#apologies for not having comforting words

[lnfours]

heaven | ln4

summary: loving you was easy to him, like second nature, like breathing. and it’s finally time for you to know.

warnings: nothing but heart clenching, feet kicking, and giggling into your pillow fluff. this is kind of short (i apologize 🥲) but nonetheless the lando brainrot has been back in full swing!

💌 - message from jordan: hi guys! long time no see :,) this came to me while watching the race yesterday morning, and beings im a sucker for a toothache-inducing-sweet romance, i figured this would be the perfect comeback fic. nothing too crazy with this one, but i still hope you enjoy, nonetheless <3 i’ve missed you all v much and i can’t wait to post some more of the things ive been working on while i was away! sending you all my love, always. talk soon! 🤍

masterlist | inbox

the filtered sunlight from the curtains in the hotel room casted shadows that illuminated the sleeping boy’s face next to you. his face was squished against the pillow, an arm lazily thrown across your stomach. he was always finding a way to be touching you, even when he was unconscious.

you watched as he slept peacefully next to you, tan skin a contrast against the bright white sheets. he had finally reached a break in his busy schedule, two weeks of having him all to yourself. he had even gone the extra mile and decided to take you on a little getaway, somewhere where it was just the two of you. alone. making up for the time he had spent away from you.

his curls were messy on the top of his head, you couldn’t help yourself from reaching out and brushing them from his forehead. however, you slightly started to regret it when you felt him move next to you, a soft sigh leaving his lips. not out of annoyance, but out of comfort at the feeling of having your nails scratch his scalp.

“like what you see?”

his morning voice was raspy and sleep coated and hot. you couldn’t help the smile growing on your face as he blinked his eyes open, squinting at you in the bright room as he tried to get his eyes to adjust.

you nodded, your fingers now trailing down the side of his face and resting on his cheek, your thumb tracing over one of your favorite moles that littered his skin, “always.”

he leaned into your touch, smiling sleepily at you before pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand, humming as his eyes searched yours, “missed this,”

you smiled back as he pulled you closer towards him, giggling as you nuzzled your head into his neck, his chin resting on the top of your head, “me too.”

lando pressed a soft kiss to the top of your hair as you took in the smell of his leftover cologne that clung to his skin. you two laid like that for a while, basking in the feeling of having each other close after the weeks he had been all over the world. you knew what you were signing up for when he asked you on your first date a few months back, but you were certain that each time he left, it was only harder and harder to let him go.

you adjust your body so you could look up at him, his eyes meeting yours again. you smiled, thinking back to the very first date you had ever went on. how he had asked your friends what your favorite flower was so he could bring them to dinner. how he always managed to make you feel like the only person in the room. always gentle, even after a bad day. he made you feel valuable. seen, heard, loved.

he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, smiling softly down at you, “what’s going on in that pretty little head?”

you sucked in a breath, “just thinking about you, about us,”

a hint of worry flashed through his eyes and you immediately clarified, “not in a bad way! i swear,”

he raised his eyebrow, playing with some strands of your hair slightly, “what is it then?”

you sucked in a breath, a feeling in your chest rising that you couldn’t quite describe, “i love you, lan.”

his eyes traveled back to yours immediately, the three words neither of you said before now ringing in his ears. he had known for a while now that you were the one for him. he had never felt this way about anyone before, never felt the need to settle like he does with you. with you, he pictures the white picket fence dream. the house, the kids, and hell, even the dog he had always talked about getting when the time was right.

you made him feel like he had found the missing piece to the puzzle that was his soul. and he was yours, too.

he leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours. the usual witty, jokester brit now all of sudden feeling a sense of realism. this was his future, the woman laying in front of him. the one he got to call his own. the woman he loved.

“i love you,” hearing him say it back made your heart clench in your throat, “more than anything in the world.”

you reached up, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to your lips, kissing him with as much love and passion you could shove in it. he kissed you back, sweetly and slowly. just like he always had, but this time it felt different. it felt like page turning to a new chapter of his life. the chapter he desperately wanted to share with you.

you giggled into his mouth when his hands found your hips, pulling you on top of him. the material of his shirt from the night before meeting his bare chest, legs tangled under the covers. you had pulled away to catch a breath, running your hands through his hair, nothing but love filled gazes staring right back at each other.

his own little slice of heaven.

[spearofheaven]

⋆˚࿔ TILL YOU TELL ME TO LEAVE — situationship! toji fushiguro

SUM. you went out on a date tonight. but toji’s planning to stay until you tell him to go.

CONTAINS. 18+ content, MDNI. x fem! reader. 1.3k words. infidelity (ish). reader + toji have sex while she’s on the phone. unprotected p in v. doggy. ass slapping (once). use of pet names. kinda jealous toji (he’s in denial). reader needs to stand up probably.

A/N. congratulations to the lovely pepper (@prosypepper) on 2k! 😽 thank you for hosting!

toji fushiguro was not a jealous man.

he didn’t have anything to get jealous about—you weren’t his and he wasn’t yours.

and yet all he found himself thinking about when he was pounding you from behind, your nails digging into your sheets below and your cunt gushing and squeezing around his cock like a vice was the fact that you'd dressed up for someone earlier tonight. if he tried hard enough, he could still smell the extravagant scent of the man's axe spray clinging onto your skin.

someone more put together than him, though. that he was sure of. someone that didn't come after the sun had set, leaving before he got too comfortable being around you. before he got used to feeling of your arms clinging onto him in the middle of the night, reaching out just as he's standing up.

even your sweet moans echoing through the room weren't enough to break him out of his thoughts. "so, how'd your little date go?"

you swore your heart nearly dropped to your ass, your grip on the sheets just a little bit tighter. a low sigh left your lips as you turned around to face toji. but before you had the chance to say anything,

bzzt. bzzt. bzzt.

you were planning on ignoring the incessant buzzing on your night stand. maybe text back a half assed apology and say that you were busy. but that wasn't good enough for toji.

of course it wasn't.

"come on, answer it, doll. you have better manners than this," he tutted, passing it over to you. leaving no room to object.

you gave him a glare, biting back whatever retort was on your tongue before reluctantly turning to face your phone again. toji didn't miss that you'd saved the contact under the man's name and (hinge) right next to it. you answered the call at the last ring before it went to voicemail, "hello?"

"hello?" toji mocked right in your ear, fingers rubbing on your clit. if only to get you to slip—to say his name to the man who took you out tonight. casual be damned.

"h-hey!" your date spoke up, almost like he wasn't expecting for you to actually answer the call. "sorry if i'm being a bit forward here, i just wanted to know that you got home safe. i had a lot of fun with you tonight."

"i had a lot of fun too, t-thanks for the dinner," your breath hitched when toji angled his hips, hitting your g-spot with every thrust. the way you gushed and dripped around his cock almost had him convinced you were into this.

toji supposed he got the answer to his question from earlier.

he leaned in, pressing his lips against the side of your neck. biting down hard enough to leave a mark behind, a yelp leaving your lips. you smacked the side of his arm, but he was unmoving. simply soothing the sting on your neck with his tongue.

"are you okay?" the man on the other line suddenly asked, everything else having gone quiet. listening into whatever he could.

"yeah, no, i'm good. just bumped my toe against the side of the table," you responded after a couple seconds, hoping he wouldn't see through your lie.

and the man behind you almost seemed to relish in this. "maybe you should turn the camera on, ma. show him justtt how you like being fucked," toji whispered in your other ear, his fingers drawing torturous circles around your swollen lil' clit.

you could hear your date speaking on the phone, talking about the menu of all things. you could only uh-huh so much before another moan left you again. so you spoke up, "actually, do you mind if i call you tomorrow? i'm kind of busy right now."

you didn't wait to hear his answer, hanging up within seconds.

toji tutted his tongue yet again, staring at you with faux disappointment. barely managing to keep his lips from twitching into a teasing grin, "you didn't have to be so rude, doll. he was so excited to talk to you."

"oh, shove it fushiguro."

"with pleasure, baby." he shoved his cock back inside in a single thrust, knocking out the air out of your lungs. fucking you how he'd been wanting to (and barely resisting) throughout the phone call.

"o-oh fuck!" a loud whine left your lips, his hips snapping against your ass harshly. you buried your head further into the pillow, each muffle and whine muffled.

"could your date fuck you like this, baby?" toji questioned, his hands coming to grip your hips. gripping them like he purposely wanted to indent his fingers onto your skin. leave something of his clinging onto your body. you didn't answer—you both already knew the answer.

"tell me or i'll stop," he warned, cock twitching inside of you as he slowed down. you shook your head, raising it from the pillow before mumbling, "no, no, he couldn't."

one large hand smacked against the plushness of your ass, the fat jiggling under the impact. "louder, i can't hear you." you turned around to spot that same cocky grin on his face, a glare forming on your face.

"no. i said that no, he couldn't fuck me like you do," you relented, letting out a satisfied moan when he sped up again. his balls twacked! twacked! twacked! against your wet cunt, his fingers rubbing your clit in quick circles. you clenched around him tighter like you wanted to milk him dry, his cock sliding in and out of you like a waterpark with how soaked you were.

"gonna cum, keep going, please," you babbled, feeling that pressure building in your lower tummy. your walls constricted against his cock in a rhythmic motion, his own thrusts starting to grow rushed and sloppy.

"not gonna stop, cum all over my dick." your release washed over you with a loud moan, your head falling slack. toji fucked you through your orgasm into his own, following soon after and painting your walls white.

he stayed still for a couple seconds, letting himself catch his breath before pulling out of your twitching pussy. toji leaned in, jaw slack as he sucked the mixture of fluids out of your cunt. cleaning you up with his tongue before swiping a moist rag over your folds.

you knew what was coming next. toji didn't hesitate to grab his clothes off the floor with superhuman speed, pulling them over his body like every second he spent here outside of sex was akin to torture.

"you don't have to leave." you turned to look over at him, slipping your night shirt over your head. "i won't make something big of it, i know we're just sleeping together. so don't worry about me getting my hopes up or anything."

toji couldn't give you anything other than this simple, no strings (or so he thought) attached situation, but he always knew that you deserved more than him. so, he could give you a night. he settled beside you, pulling the blankets up.

toji fushiguro was like a stray dog. enjoying the comforts of domesticity and the feeling of having a temporary home, but only staying around for whatever scraps he could receive before he went out on his way again.

but he decided to stay. he'd be staying as you let him into the comfort of your presence, even if he doesn't give much in return. all he does is worry you senseless, coming to your apartment half bloody at times and gasping for breath. he's aware.

but he'd be staying in your bed and underneath your warm blankets until you finally told him to leave, that you never wanted to see him again.

[binmeister]

Toxic

Sometimes people just aren’t meant to be together

Saja boys x Reader (Separate)

:) hi.

CW: Angst, toxic relationships / situationships, breaking up and no making up here (maybe), body dysmorphia heavily insinuated in Abs’ prompt and mentions of ED

Jinu

Sometimes self-doubt and anxiety is just too much.. too destructive to handle.

“Why are you so adamant that I don’t mean it when I say I love you?” Your voice was hoarse, fatigue kicking in after the screaming match the two of you just had. Hours of arguing finally ended after Jinu blew up saying that ‘You’re just lying to me! No one could love me, no one could love a monster like me.’ and you just felt lost. 

How many times do you need to tell him you loved him? Did he not understand your actions and words were true? You tried to be understanding, tried your best to be patient during the months of dating him. You were understanding when he finally opened up about what he is, what he did in the past. All of it. You accepted him completely and that still wasn’t enough somehow. There’d be days where he accepted your affection and then there were days where he pushed you away, guilt on his face as if he didn’t deserve to be held with such care.

“It’s just.. I..” He trailed off, his voice equally as hoarse as he couldn’t meet your gaze. Couldn’t bare to look at your eyes glossed over with tears ready to fall at any given moment. “Because you can’t. You don’t have to keep lying to me about it.”

A beat of silence fell over you two as the tears finally fell, you were hysteric as you wheezed oxygen in and he couldn’t bring himself to touch you, to comfort you. Didn’t feel he deserved to be the one to pick up the pieces he broke off of you even with the tears brimming at the corner of his eyes. It felt like minutes went by before he finally raised up a hand, about to grab hold of you and pull you to his chest so he could apologise and you guys could make up and everything would be okay again but then you spoke up and his world felt like it fell apart.

“I can’t do this anymore. I just can’t.” You had managed to speak through your sobs, aggressive hiccups as you gasped for air to try and steady yourself. “I feel like nothing I do will get through to you, I’m sorry.”

After your distressed apology you left him, barely able to walk straight and he didn’t stop you. Frozen in place as he heard the sound of his apartment door slam closed after you left. He deserved this. The heartbreak. But it hurt so bad as he realised he’d succeeded in sabotaging something that made him happy, made him feel human.

He deserved to be alone.

Abs / Abby

He just struggled to understand your body image issues.

He didn’t understand why you were so uncomfortable in your own skin, you looked fine to him. He liked the way your belly squished when he held you and he loved knowing he could show his strength by picking you up. He was strong, he didn’t care what size or shape you were because he just liked you. But sometimes this lead to arguments. 

On days you couldn’t bring yourself to even look yourself in a mirror when you brushed your teeth because you hated what you saw, wanting to tear your skin and body apart so you could rearrange it and put it back together into something that could be worthy of love. Of attention. He’d reassure you that he loves you, loves how you look and then he lets it slip that he doesn’t really understand why you hate your body so much and then you get fed up. At the positivity he’s always sharing.

It’s hard to digest when he’s being genuine because it feels fake, like he’s just being nice so he can keep you wrapped around his finger. Because he doesn’t notice when you stop eating or making drastic changes to your diet. Believes the little lies you feed him when you say you ‘just didn’t feel hungry’ or that you ‘ate earlier, go ahead!’ as he digs into the meal in front of him without questioning you. When you’re tired from the lack of nutrients he doesn’t ask if you ate, just asks if you got enough sleep as he tries to cradle you into his chest when you’re barely functioning.

He just doesn’t understand. He’s lived long enough as a demon that can change form that he forgets humans can’t do that easily, and when he was human he lived in a time period where food was scarce so only the insanely wealthy could eat themselves into their graves. So when you’re eating like a bird and looking miserable he gets small flashbacks of family and friends during his time as a human, when they struggled to eat but they were so happy to have the small available portion that he thinks you’re okay. Maybe it’s a fad.

When you break up with him, he’s confused. It felt like it was out of no where to him, threw him off guard completely. But you go on about how you need to fix yourself before you two can try again, how you couldn’t love your body and felt envious that he could do whatever he wants with his and still look amazing. He tried to explain to you the difference between yourself and him but stopped himself when he finally took in how sad you looked, the eye bags under your eyes from the restless sleep you’ve had on empty stomachs, how weak you seem like if he blew air onto you it might just make you wither away.

He doesn’t understand, so he lets you walk away from him.

Mystery

It feels like you’re only ever talking out loud to yourself.

At first his silence was comforting, the honeymoon period and rose tinted glasses made it seem like he was just a quiet and doting boyfriend. The type of partner that didn’t need to express his thoughts and feelings with words and actions were enough. But then it felt like you were never having a conversation as a pair.

You’d started to feel self conscious through your relationship, wondering if maybe you talked too much and he was just too polite to not shut you up. Maybe he tuned out your ramblings as background noise because he never gave you anything except a calm smile and a nod to acknowledge that he heard you. At first it was enough to reassure you he was aware and happy but then it made communicating hard. He wouldn’t have any opinions or say anything when it came to arranging date night, he didn’t have thoughts about what you wore, no comments about anything because he didn’t talk to you.

The only time you’ve heard his voice at this rate is when he’s barking at the other guys or when he’s forced to speak for some commercial or promotion the group had to do. And that was it. You didn’t get to hear him whisper that he loved you, he didn’t even say that he loved you with his voice. Your ‘I love you’s were always met with silence and a peck to the cheek, maybe a different form of physical affection but never in words. Not even in text or on a piece of paper.

You’d asked him a few times if he could respond to you, verbally, and he nodded but then nothing changed. He’d fall into the same routine of only nodding, shaking his head, shrugging his shoulders. Everything except respond to you with his voice that at this point you were desperate to listen to. Your only comfort was looping the groups’ songs on repeat and trying to remember his singing voice, or trying to find the small clips online where he spoke. It just wasn’t enough, couldn’t give you the comfort you wanted from him. The physical affection he showed started to mean less and less when it was just filled with silence, the only sounds were the sound of either of your breaths or the occasional squeak from you when he squeezed you too hard in a hug.

You let it go on for a few more weeks, praying that maybe you were just a little too in your head but when it continued on that he didn’t speak to you - you finally met your breaking point. You didn’t tell him to his face that you were breaking up with him, feeling like it wasn’t worth the effort because he wouldn’t respond to you anyway. You texted it to him, saying that you were done and hope he continues to thrive in his career and maybe the next person he meets will be the one he’ll have enough interest in speaking to.

You were left on read.

Romance

You don’t feel secure when the words he promised were for you were used as a template on everyone else too.

You guys were supposed to be on a date, just the two of you. But a group of fans recognised him and came screaming, begging for photos, squealing when he gently held any of their hands and how lovely he was. They completely ignored you, he completely ignored you, until the interaction was done and over with. He waved at them as the group walked away, winking and blowing a kiss to add that extra zest that he knew would make them freak out and post about online.

Yet you stood there next to him, an emptiness in your chest as he continued to keep his attention on the group before half heartedly throwing an arm around your shoulder and ushering you away. His touch should’ve felt warm and comforting but it just made your blood run colder, made you uncomfortable but you didn’t want it to show so you swallowed your pride and tried to smile at him - listening to him as he talked about whatever it was the group did today in their schedule.

Then it happened again the next time you were due to go out together, his attention was solely on the fans and normally you understand. Normally it was fine, you get it, it’s his job. But you felt a crack in your mentality as he started spouting words that he usually kept sacred for you. He directed it at a female fan, complimenting her and word for word reciting things he’s said to you. Words he promised were only for you. So why were you witnessing him casually recite it to a complete stranger? He didn’t even notice the shift in your mood as you excused yourself to go home early after that, didn’t pay attention to how upset you looked because before he could bid you a sweet good night another fan had taken up his attention and he was off in his own world again.

You tried to approach him about it one day when he was hanging out in your room, but he didn’t really reassure you in a way that made you feel like he actually cared. It felt like he was reciting some script he found online about how to deal with an insecure partner - he didn’t even look at you as he said it. He was staring at his nails, words filled with honey but he couldn’t even give you the decency to look at you while he said it. Like you were just some groupie that he had to deal with until his next break.

You told him to get out after that, he wasn’t offended in the slightest and shrugged you off as he left. A simple ‘call me when you miss me’ as he left, attempted to wink at you but was thrown off when you didn’t look at him as you slammed the door shut after he stepped out of your apartment. Whatever, he was sure you’d get over it and come crawling back to him when you felt lonely. 

But you didn’t contact him after that. A week had gone by and not a single text from you, he huffed a little annoyed - you always wanted to hear from him, wanted him to say sweet things to you, that’s what you wanted. So he started to initiate. A message here, an attempt at call. Tried to seek you out at places he knew you liked to visit and casually bump into you at one of them but it was like you were purposely avoiding him. Another week goes by and he tries again to call you, but he didn’t expect to hear the dial tone end and the automated voice bank be the only thing to answer him.

“Your call could not be connected.”

Did you block him?

Baby

The crumbs of attention stopped being enough.

Most of the time spent with Baby was side by side as he busied himself with snacks or whatever his phone entertained him with at the time, if it wasn’t his phone then it was a gaming console, if it wasn’t some kind of console then it’d be him making fun of the guys. Quality time didn’t really exist for you two and you didn’t mind it at first because it was just nice to be around him, close enough that he doesn’t feel like pushing you away in disgust and you thought it went well.

Then you realised he didn’t really give you much attention when you weren’t physically around him. His replies were sporadic, half hour to multiple hours between each one and he never continued the conversation no matter how hard you prompted him to. Simple responses and then nothing much to add to it, a little dismissive even.

It gave you whiplash because when you were around him, at first he’d be a little sweeter to you - a peck on the cheek or a hand on yours or your leg to show that he acknowledged you were there. But the touches stayed fleeting. Like he didn’t want to be caught being affectionate to you at all. It continued on like that for a while, fleeting touches and when you tried to engage in more he’d instinctively back away - not wanting the guys to see you being cutesy with him and it stung. Was he embarrassed being with you?

When the two of you were alone he was more loving, even offered up a few sweeter words to you, but those instances were extremely rare given how much he preferred the company of his fellow demons and the chaotic entertainment provided to him for free. You’ve played games with him online here and there, both in your respective rooms for this but it didn’t really feel like he was playing the game with you. Off-handed comments about how bad your teammates were and then insulting them even though you made the same mistakes, he brushed you off telling you that you’re not the problem it was the others but it just kept festering the insecurity in you.

Sometimes you’d be on a call with each other, at first you’d often fall asleep on the phone and you’d laugh about it in the morning but now it felt like he was simply waiting for you to fall asleep first so he could mute and do whatever it is he wanted to do - which was usually hop on some other game or go harass the guys now that he knew you were sleeping soundly.

There was a day you tried to talk to him about it, try to tell him that you didn’t feel like he loved you and he brushed you off. That hurt. You tried again another day and it was the same thing, he brushed you off because he didn’t understand why you needed so much attention. It made you feel greedy and it made you feel even worse about yourself, hating that you latched onto every word he said to you or how excited you got when he finally responded to your message an hour after you sent yours, how small it made you feel. Like without him you didn’t exist.

So you ended it, you pulled him aside when he invited you over to hang out with the guys and you ended it then and there. He didn’t say anything, just blankly stared at you as you complained and explained why you couldn’t do this anymore. He didn’t do anything when you bowed in apology, tears trailing down your cheeks as you excused yourself and left shortly after. He didn’t acknowledge Jinu or Romance when the two older men had approached him to ask if everything was okay, because you’d just ran out crying before anyone could say hi.

He just accepted it, humans were confusing and he couldn’t be bothered to figure out what just happened.

[p1astr81]

Oscar x reader who is rly stressed and overworked one day he comes home from a triple header and shes like doing her and hair and sobbing and he just completely comforts her and finishes her hair for her while whispering comforting words to her and being rly physical.

THIS IS LONG IK IM SORRY

cw: use of y/n and pet names (baby), not proof read

Between schooling and work, the stress had been piling on your shoulders day after day. Worst of all, your usual support person had been gone for three whole weeks.

Meant to go out with friends later in the day, you were putting your hair into a braided bun. It wasn’t working, though. Frustration built, and everything you’d been holding in broke free. Hands shaking, tears flowing down your face faster than you could process. Ugly, broken sobs rang out.

You hadn’t heard Oscar come through the door. Hadn’t known that he was home until he was hugging you as hard as he could, tucking your head into his chest and placed a kiss on the top of your head.

Letting your hair fall, you clung onto his arms. Nails dug into his skin as if to make sure he was actually there.

“You’re alright. It’s alright. I’m here.” He whispered into your ear, his hand stroking your back. “I’m here.” He repeated.

You sobbed harder. He held tighter.

More words were whispered into your ear. “What’s wrong, baby? What’s wrong? What happened?” He tried. You only shook your head. “Come on, talk to me.”

Another shake of your head. You hid your face in his arm. “I can’t. I can’t.” Was all you offered him.

“Can’t what?”

“Can’t do it! I can’t do it anymore, Oscar!” Your nails started to draw blood. He didn’t care. “Work and- and school- I-“ hiccup “and my hair. I can’t do it anymore.” Your breath shuttered “I’m so burnt out. My brain can’t function anymore Oscar I-“ a sigh. “I can’t.” A broken whisper, one that sounds like giving up.

He shook his head. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t be here, that I left you to-“

“No, don’t. Stop. Stop apologizing.”

“Okay. Okay. I’m-“ he cut himself off, the sorry dying in his throat. “What’s wrong with your hair, baby?”

“I can’t get it to look right.” You sputtered between sobs.

He pulled away slightly, but kept his hands on your shoulders. He stood behind you now. “What’s wrong with it? What do you want me to do with it?” His words were so gentle, his soft eyes looking at yours through the mirror.

Your frowned deepened, and you tried to wipe the tears away. They just kept coming anyway. “You don’t have to. I don’t wanna-“

“Y/n.” It was one word, but the way he said it communicated everything. He was there for you. Would do anything if you just asked it of him.

A choked sob as you tried to reign in the tears. “A loose braided bun.”

“Okay.” He chuckled, trying to ease you. “I can do that.” He nodded, his hands in your hair before you could say anything else.

Even though he was so concentrated on making your hair look perfect, he didn’t skip out on the reassurance.

Everything is going to be okay. He whispered and kissed your temple.

It’s just temporary. He squeezed your arm.

Take a day off if you need. Your brain more important. And to make his point, he kissed the top of your head.

See? One thing out of the way. He whispered when he was done, his arms wrapped around you. You’ll get through it. I know you will because you’re too damn stubborn to let this make you quit.

You gave a weak laugh at that, leaning your body into his, letting his body heat bring you comfort. “Thank you.” You said, looking up at him. “For… for everything, really.”

He frowned. “Anything you need. Ever. Just call me. I’ll always answer, even if it’s the dead of night for me.”

A heavy sigh passed your lips, tears pricking your eyes again at feeling so loved. You nodded, a hand threading through his hair to pull him down to meet your lips.

[vxnillabxn]

Hiii!! I hope it’s okay to ask, I’ve had this idea where MC breaks up with Zayne, thinking he deserves better. But after hearing how miserable he was, she comes back and admits she was scared and never wanted to leave. I’d love to see how he reacts and how they move forward.

Lowk been needing angst and comfort 🥲

𐙚˙⋆.˚ zayne x gn!reader ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ hurt/hurt/hurt/comfort! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ sfw! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ do not translate/copy/repost! ꒰੭

﹙♡﹚did i almost make myself cry? yes. did i also love writing this? absolutely. do i approve of the reader! actions? hell no. BUT, overall, this is as much hurt as it is comfort, i hope i meet your expectations, dear anon! ♡

being with zayne was the best decision you ever made. he was emotionally responsible, he always talked things out, and he made sure you felt comfortable and loved. he made time for you, and he put aside important matters for the most crucial one in his eyes; you.

there was absolutely nothing you wanted to change about him or the lovely, strong relationship you two were building together.

again, there was nothing you wanted to change about him.

but about you?

plenty.

you didn't feel like you were enough for him. he sacrificed everything for you, he was a literal angel, and he always knew what to do to make it all feel better.

you, on the other hand, were sometimes too busy. you didn't know how to handle things, and you felt like the comfort you could offer him during his lowest moments was never enough.

you were not enough.

and you'd been repeating those same words for a month now.

how does he handle everything?

how is he able to have you as his top priority?

why does he love you so much, when you're not even half as special as him?

you can't take it anymore. you're tired, you feel drained, and you also feel guilty. zayne deserves the world. he deserves someone who's up to his level. someone who can silently manage everything perfectly. someone who has their life together, like he does.

it's not fair to be selfish and drag him along with you, not when he's been nothing but selfless all his life. he's been killing his free time, killing his social life, even killing his health —and all for you.

they say to love is to let go.

and after thinking and crying yourself to sleep on the nights he worked late shifts, you finally decided it was only fair to break up.

of course, he knew something was wrong.

he just never expected it would be this.

when you told him you'd wait at a nearby park, —one you two had never visited before— he was worried.

you didn't want to break up with him somewhere he loved. you wanted him to still go to the same coffee shop, the same restaurant, the same patisserie without connecting it to a memory this bitter.

when he arrived, he hugged you and kissed you softly.

it hurt.

it tasted so sweet, so genuine, so devoted…

you let him. it was going to be the last time, and your selfishness wanted a final reminder before you left him, for his own good.

what happened next is blurry in your mind.

you don't remember the exact words you said, but you remember his stunned silence.

you know you said it was so he could find someone better. someone who deserved him.

and you know he wasn't getting it.

he understood a lot of things.

but not this.

his eyes went unfocused, his lips pressed tightly shut.

he didn't speak.

you were grateful for that, because if you'd heard his voice, —his broken voice— you'd have apologized right there on the spot.

you held out the snowman keychain he'd made for you, your hands trembling. you wanted him to take it back.

but he didn't move.

he was frozen in time.

so, as cruel as fate is, you kept the keychain. a reminder of the only truly good thing that had happened to you, and when you least deserved it.

you walked away, trying not to cry, telling yourself you were doing what was best for him, right? for once, you were doing something in return for everything good he'd done for you.

and as your figure grew smaller, there was a soft splash on the ground.

a single drop of water.

not from the rain threatening to pour.

but from the corner of his eye.

…

one month.

it's been one month now, and you've been too busy working and hunting distractions. you've avoided the hospital even when you've felt worse than ever, both mentally and physically.

but your chest hurts badly, and more and more often you feel dizzy, exhausted, consumed.

it got so bad you had to go to the hospital, or they'd force you to take another month off to rest.

and the last thing you wanted was to stay by yourself, sulking and crying inside your messy, dark apartment.

once inside the hospital, you saw no one familiar. not even yvonne, the receptionist you'd grown closer to when you were zayne's patient before dating.

instead, another nurse stepped up to the reception desk and smiled warmly.

“good morning, dear. do you have an appointment?”

you swallow hard. you forgot to change doctors. maybe zayne did it for you.

“i… yes, i'm under dr. zayne's care.”

her smile faltered.

“oh, sweetie… didn't they inform you?”

her voice turned softer, her expression shifting to worry. your stomach dropped.

something happened to zayne, you're sure. your heart starts pounding wildly, but you keep your voice steady. you have to know.

“dr. gideon took over his patients for now—”

“what happened to dr. zayne?”

you didn't mean to sound so desperate, but it comes out fast, almost sharp.

the nurse flinched slightly, then cleared her throat.

“i'm afraid i can't disclose that information, sweetheart. but i can schedule you with—”

“thank you!”

you rush outside before she can finish. you run, vision blurry with panic and tears. you know the route to his house by heart. every shortcut, every turn.

zayne would never just leave. not unless something serious happened.

you pound on his door.

your breath is ragged, your heart feels like it might break your ribs, but you don't care.

nothing matters more than knowing if zayne is okay.

yet he doesn't answer.

and now your heart beats not from exhaustion, but from fear — because your heart belongs to him, and if something happened to him…

you can't wait anymore. you tear through your bag, looking for the spare key you couldn't bring yourself to throw away.

there it is. attached to the snowman keychain.

you unlock the door, hand shaking.

the sight inside leaves you breathless.

scattered books. blankets draped carelessly over the sofa…

and on the dining table… two mugs. one at his place, empty. another one at yours, still full. as if he kept waiting for you to come back and drink it with him.

two plates. two sets of cutlery. always two.

dusty. untouched. abandoned for…

exactly a month.

you rush upstairs, opening every door.

not in the bathroom.

not in the bedroom.

not in the kitchen.

maybe… his studio?

you approach the closed door, hand trembling. you push it open.

and there he is.

asleep at his desk. his laptop is still glowing faintly. the room is painfully neat, unlike the rest of the house.

but it's freezing inside.

you shiver, but step closer.

zayne looks… different.

his skin pale and unhealthy, dark circles under his beautiful eyes, a slight stubble on his usually clean-shaven face.

his fingers tinged purple from the cold. his brows furrowed, trapped in a nightmare.

this wasn't supposed to happen.

he was supposed to be better. to find someone up to his level.

but seeing him so broken, so not composed… you realize how badly you misjudged.

tears fall as you try to wake him. you shake him, nudge him, tug at his clothes, bury your face in his lap and sob.

“i'm sorry, zayne, i'm so… so sorry. i never wanted to leave, i…”

you bite your lip hard, almost drawing blood.

“this wasn't supposed to happen… you were supposed to be happy without me. you deserved so much better, zayne. so… much… better.”

words come out between sobs, but you cling to him like a lifeline.

and then, gently, you feel his fingers brushing your hair.

your breath catches. you look up.

he's awake. his expression unreadable, until the faintest smile curves his lips.

“you… came back.”

his voice is raw, hoarse from disuse.

you gasp, scrambling up to look at him properly.

you can't stop yourself.

you throw your arms around him, almost knocking him off the chair.

but then—

“stop.”

you freeze.

does he… not want this?

“i can sense it. you're overthinking again.”

his voice is soft, but firm.

“you did that a lot before you…” he pauses, looking away. “have i not made myself clear enough?”

you step back, but he pulls you closer.

“tell me. was i not clear?”

“zayne, i don't—”

“didn't i tell you how much i loved you? how much you meant to me?”

his voice stays calm, but his gaze… it's yours.

“please. answer me.”

your chest aches. you know the answer.

“zayne, i thought… i thought it was for the best. you're perfect. you always made time for me, even while saving lives. i have so much to work on and… it wasn't your fault. i was stupid, and—”

he hushes you gently, his fingers brushing your lips.

“i was perfect for you. everything i did, every choice, every thought… was for you. from the start of my career, and until the day i die, everything i do will always have you in mind.”

you're speechless.

he removes his hand, then stands, towering over you.

“do you know why i waited?”

you shake your head.

“you never said you didn't love me anymore,” he steps closer, caging you in. “and i knew i'd wait, even if it meant endless nightmares. even if i lost myself doing so… even if it took another lifetime.”

his hand cups your cheek, wiping your tears.

“because i only live for you. and that won't change, unless you tell me you don't love me anymore.”

your voice cracks.

“no! zayne, i love you! i did what i did because of love! i wanted only the best for you…”

“and the best for me is you, my love.”

his cold fingers warm at your skin, his voice trembles ever so slightly.

“don't you ever… ever do that again,” he stops, but adds more after a few seconds:

“every night, i woke up reaching for you,” he confesses, voice breaking for the first time. “i saw you leaving over and over in my dreams, and i couldn't stop you. i was dying without you, even if i kept breathing.”

you choke on a sob, and your lips crash into his.

it's messy, desperate —but he steadies you, slowing it down into something deep and aching, until you're both breathless.

you finally feel at peace. because it's him. and only him.

as you part, he kisses your trembling hands.

“my love… shall i remind you every day how much i need you to breathe?”

you sniffle, shaking your head.

“no. i think… it's my turn now to show you how much i need you. how selfish i truly am for wanting you in my life forever.”

“then let us be selfish, love.”

he kisses your forehead.

and everything falls right back in place.

as it used to be.

and from now on, he'll make sure it always is.

[christofairy1003]

How he'd use his mouth on you// Chris (Lipstopher) Bang

ㅤꨄ︎ explicit content. Minors dni please thank you.

ㅤꨄ︎ English isn't my first language so l apologize for any mistakes or typos <3

ㅤꨄ︎ warning: sexual content, mostly and basically oral (F receiving)

- in all the right ways. and I can just say only that and post it as it is.

- no but really. just like he does with his fingers (see previous post), he STUDIES you and what you love. And he ain’t playing when it comes to loving you right. In fact, if you know him more than 5 minutes, you’d know he doesn’t do anything if he isn’t passionate about it. Thats why he’s PERFECT (I am not biased, I promise).

-Starting from sweet words, to sweet kisses to sweet orgasms he’d rip from you over and over again with that mouth.

- we all have seen how precise his words are when he speaks about things/people he loves. That’s gonna make you fall in love every time he only parts his lips to say anything.

- could melt you with his sweet praises like an ice cream on a hot summer day in Australia.

- even unintentional ones like, “Need help with that, little one?”

- or when you come home from work/school/whatever business, and you need comfort, babe he’s gonna sweet talk you so softly you’ll be throwing chairs in the air and pulling out every single hair from your head.

- uses nicknames like: love, little one (these two confirmed), babygirl (also confirmed), baby, sweets, sweet thing, little thing, pretty thing, thing thing thing… and honestly? You’re already on your knees giving him a tutorial on how to tie your hair up. From his words only.

- of course his other side (the evil tease that does the complete opposite of making you wanna keep him in your arms and rather in some other parts of your body ;)) will call you names like “dirty/filthy/greedy little thing, princess…)

- I don’t see him using degrading names unless you tell him you have this kink (“I’ll fulfill all your fantasies” was a promise so he gonna keep it)

- but yeah, I see him as a very soft Dom, so most of the time he just praises you on how good you’re being for him, how good you’re taking him, how pretty you look when you come for him, etc…

- (Really depends on the situation and the mood between you too cuz if you start misbehaving and testing him, he ain’t gonna keep fucking around about it. He either lets you be and gives you the silent treatment, or teaching you a lesson, and that’s where degradation MIGHT take place. But only very rarely.)

- anyways, mouth. Right.

- have you seen his lips? I bet you did. Have you seen anything else besides them? I doubt it. Don’t ask the color of anything I’m busy staring at the most beautiful pair of lips ever.

- just as I said about the hands, the same goes here with his his pink, plump, slightly chapped (you’re gonna take care of it anyways), kissable lips.

- FOREHEAD KISSES. Just take your time and imagine him randomly coming up to you and places a gentle, comforting kiss on your forehead, or the top of your head if you’re busy and he doesn’t wanna interrupt you but has to have some sort of connection, even if it’s just for a second.

- and of course you wouldn’t be able to resist him and just keep doing your business after he “innocently” leaves a kiss on your forehead. But that’s just up to you what to do next.

- kisses your lips with such delicacy that you never get enough of it.

- would take him two seconds and one brush of his lips against your own to turn it into a hot makeout session that lasts as long as you two can last without breathing.

- DEFINITELY MOANS INTO YOUR MOUTH. UH.

- but if he’s all soft and cuddly? It’s over for you. Cause no matter how hot the kisses get when you two are needy, nothing compares to those chaste, gentle, mfing addictive-sweet-soft kisses.

- first he’d be a blushing mess cause the tip of his nose brushing against yours, and then he’s probably taking your hands and intertwining your fingers together before he lays you down on the bed or like gently pushes you against something. Like, a wall, a kitchen counter, a couch…

- and it’s all so pure and makes you feel so so so in loveeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. Fuck. (Him).

- so when his lips touch your own, your breath hitches cause it’s an ethereal feeling. He literally takes your breath away, and then cups your face with one hand as the other still intertwined with yours…

- or he just holds your neck and caresses your jaw with his thumb ever so slightly as if he’s trying to not hurt you with his touch.

- but yeah anyways, makes you lose your mind over the sweetest kisses ever.

- A sucker for taking your bottom lip between his teeth and dragging it oh so gently, so careful with it.

- ugh, NECK KISSES too. Such a weakness. Goes for both of you cause well, idk if there’s anyone out there who doesn’t like neck kisses but HIS? Are addictive. Nothing less than that. Will practically have you begging for him to press his majestic lips to your neck every. Time. You. Look. At. Them. No cuz, they’re so inviting wtf.

- loves tugging at your hair so he can pull your head back just slightly enough to expose your delicious neck (he’s a wolf and that’s his favorite meal ok?)

- There’s not one spot he’d leave unkissed.

- the amount of pressure he puts on your neck depends on the mood. And that’s basically his way of telling you either, “I’m horny” or “I’m too tired but never for this”.

- and if he’s horny, he’d start by using some teeth as well, nibbling and tugging at your flesh just slightly, not enough to hurt you, but enough to signal you that he WANTS you now. His tongue swipes over the area he bites on to make sure he’s not hurting you. But generally, when he’s needy, his kisses are more open mouthed, wet and full of sounds.

- he grunts and groans and moans and saying your name and how delicious and pretty you are whenever he leaves a trail of wet, yet loving kisses.

- and they ARE loving, do not think he’s only beasty when he needs you. He makes sure you feel his love through his actions since he hates getting flustered in front of you.

- he’s just a little hungry wolf who loves your neck, and collar bones.

- which brings us to this…

- hickeys.

- you cannot convince me he doesn’t LOVEEE having you all covered up in red. Again, not beasty, just enough and consensual.

- loves loves loves when you moan his name as he makes another hickey on your neck. You can tell just how much he’s willing to sell his soul just to have you all covered up in his art by his grin.

- would be so proud of himself at the end, if there is an end to this cause you always let him mark you all over again and he’d gladly skip his genshin hours just to love you right with his mouth.

- also hickeys on your breasts. Makes him hard so much faster when you let him do that, while he’s massaging the other one and then does the same in the same spot. (He can’t stand asymmetrical/uneven things such as marks only on one of your breasts and not ruin the other as well :))

- he’s also addicted to the feeling of your fingers in his hair, tugging and pulling whenever he does his business with different body parts of yours <3

- going lower from your breasts, his lips NEVER leave your skin. Like, that man is addicted and he’s not letting go.

- so just imagine what happens when you’re finally pregnant with his baby, how softly he’d kiss all over your rounded belly. Gosh. Heavy sigh. I need that.

- no matter your size, your skin condition, your whatever insecurities you have with your body, he’s here to make you feel perfect. And he’s gonna work his mouth until you admit it yourself.

- whispers praises about how pretty and perfect your skin feels under his lips, and would basically kiss all your insecurities away.

- and he might be one to kiss your ankles when he’s folding you in half and takes you like he claims you over and over again, but that’s controversial. Hehe.

- anyways, moving lower to the best part.

- absolutely and definitely obsessed with inner thighs. Look at him.

- he’d be drunk on the soft flesh of your inner thighs like he’d never be on soju or any other motivation drink.

- HES A SUCKER FOR HICKEYS THERE TOO.

- like you can tug at his hair all you want but you’re already a writhing mess once he’s got his teeth around small parts of your flesh and he sucks on it like he’d go mad if he doesn’t mark you even more.

- “so pretty and mine, yeah?”

- “all mine to mark, all mine to love.”

- fuck off cause if he says he’s not possessive he’s LYING.

- slowly making his way all the way up to your heat, teasingly as always.

- “can i?” Is what he’s gonna ask before fucking your brains out with his mouth.

- gets rid of your panties in the speed of light cause the man is HUNGRY. He wants his meal and you can’t let him skip any meals right? Gotta take care of him.

- now listen to me when I say he does the next thing like his life depends on it. Like his own pleasure and pride depend on it. And it does, in some way.

- loves how you squirm and get all shy but he keeps your thighs open before he dives in.

- starting off with little licks around your already extremely sensitive clit. You’re tugging at his hair or smtg, idk, going insane probably cause baby, he’s a pro.

- (cmon, he didn’t record himself gulping that bloody protein drink in one shot + the sound for innocent purposes. Nobody gives a fuck about the PROTEIN DRINK CHRIS. And he knows it damn well.)

- ok! So, we have him teasing you, and when that part is over, you see stars. The moon, mars, Jupiter, they’re all in front of your eyes that are rolling back wonderfully now that you pull even harder at his hair (careful with that tho)

- safe to say it turns him on even more when you do that, as long as you don’t leave him bald after this round…

- he moans against your folds. His tongue hot and wet and dragging up your sticky folds like it’s his mission and someone told him he can’t do it right. So he gives his all.

- “that’s right, baby. Feels good, yeah?”

- HIS VOICE IS MUFFLED CAUSE HES BUSY EATING.

- slurping and collecting all that wetness you make for him, only for him. He’s drinks you like that protein drink hahahaha no. Even better than that.

- EYE CONTACT all the way. Doesn’t break it even for a second. Remember? He needs to study you, and even after a while together when you know each other well, he’d still keep staring into your soul while taking it out of you.

- stops when you look away, same thing when he fingers you. Cause, eh, just a little sucker for that connection when he’s breaking you. Thats just his way to say he loves you, through the eyes.

- he savors every inch of you and flicks his tongue in all the right places that make your tones get even higher (what would you expect from a musician after all?)

- in moments like this, you thank the heavens for making him a people’s pleaser. And he’s not gonna do anything other than that. He’s here to please every cell of your body and release very oxytocin molecule in your brain until your thighs are closing around his head and you beg him to stop :)

- that’s just his pride. His smile afterwards says it all.

- his smile, and the way he’s catching his breath cause he just ate you out like you’re his favorite breakfast, lunch, dinner and dessert altogether.

- would let your legs shake and watch him lick his lips after finishing his delicious 3 star Michelin meal

- “fuck, baby… I’d do that all day if you let me.”

- “fuck, you did so well for me, my sweet girl.”

- “look at you dripping and shaking for me. you came so hard, didn’t you?” While caressing your face in a comforting way. “Yeah, you did. Such a good fucking girl. Fuck… all mine.”

- anyways, as I’ve said in the beginning. He uses his mouth only in the right ways. Whether it’s to wreck you with his words, his pretty accent, or with his tongue, teeth and lips. Either way, he manages to wreck you.

[noirscript]

His Silent Vows

pt. 2

Pairing: Yandere Husband x Reader

Warning/s: TW: Yandere | Marital Rape | Forced Domesticity | Psychological Abuse | Dubious Consent | Gaslighting | Possessive Behavior | Surveillance | Isolation | Captivity | Coercive Control | Grooming Dynamics | Trauma Bonding | Power Imbalance | Manipulative Affection | Dark Themes

Notes: Apologies for not tagging both fics featuring Coen. Will refrain from posting anything mid-day so I can tag them properly moving forward. 😔 I'll schedule them 8 PM (GMT+8). :) Thank you!

The days blur, not because they’re fast, but because they repeat with near-mechanical precision.

Coen wakes early, showers in silence, then returns with your coffee already prepared the way you like it—two sugars, no cream, in the porcelain mug from your old kitchen, as if dragging familiar pieces of your old life into this twisted domestic revival.

He kisses your forehead every morning like he didn’t hold you down against the mattress the night before, whispering promises into your skin while taking you like a man possessed. He sets out fresh clothes folded at the foot of the bed. Never tight. Never restrictive. Flowing, soft, breathable.

Because he doesn’t need chains to keep you here.

He needs you to look comfortable.

“Eat, love,” he murmurs behind you as you stare at the breakfast he prepared—eggs, fruit, toast, perfectly plated. “You need to take care of yourself. You’ve been through a lot.”

You’ve been through a lot.

As if he wasn’t the one who orchestrated the fall of your freedom.

As if he wasn’t the reason your body still aches in places love was never meant to bruise.

Still, you eat.

Because he watches.

Always.

⋅ ─ ✧ ─ ⋅

The windows don’t open. The door locks from the outside. He says it’s for security. That he “can’t risk losing you again.” The walls don’t have cameras, but you’ve stopped trusting what’s visible. His staff—those loyal men in quiet black—don’t speak to you, but they always seem to know where you are.

Once, you tried the side entrance during his call.

It was locked.

The next morning, a subtle change—your shoes were moved. He never mentioned it. Just kissed your hand at breakfast and said, “You're such a good girl for staying close.”

You never said a word.

But that night, he made love to you slower. Almost reverently. As if rewarding loyalty you never offered.

⋅ ─ ✧ ─ ⋅

The house has a library. Coen insists you read. He brings you books you used to love—titles from your shared shelf back in the city. You thumb through the pages, half reading, half calculating.

Maps. Floorplans. Patterns.

There are no clocks. You guess the time by the light—gray mornings, golden afternoons, the sharp navy of night pressing against windowpanes you can’t open. You’ve counted five security rotations so far. Three men. Two women. They trade shifts at dusk and dawn.

Coen thinks you’re adjusting. That you’ve surrendered.

You let him think that.

Because you’ve learned that quiet is armor. That the more you comply, the more freedom he gives in return. Controlled freedom. But freedom nonetheless.

Like how he lets you roam the halls now. One level. Two wings. No access to the cellar. Never to the garage.

But you saw it once.

From the reflection in the mirror, when he left the door cracked just a little too long. A glimpse of a car, black and clean. Keys hanging from a board.

It burned itself into your memory.

⋅ ─ ✧ ─ ⋅

He brings you flowers on the fourth day. Not store-bought. Picked. Arranged.

He holds them out like a peace offering from a war you weren’t allowed to win.

“You’ve been so good to me,” he says, eyes soft like they used to be, the illusion stretching like paper over a blade. “I knew you just needed a little…reminding.”

Your hands tremble as you take the bouquet.

He doesn’t notice.

Or maybe he does—and just likes the way it looks on you.

“I’ve missed this version of us,” he continues, brushing a lock of hair from your face. “You’re soft again. Sweet. It suits you.”

You press your lips together, forcing a smile.

Because sweet wives don’t plot escapes.

Sweet wives don’t memorize security lapses.

Sweet wives don’t watch the keys when his hand grazes the kitchen counter.

⋅ ─ ✧ ─ ⋅

But you do.

Because somewhere under the bruises, under the silk and false comfort, you remember that love never felt like this.

You may wear the role well.

But you're not broken.

Not yet.

And somewhere in this fortress, this gilded prison wrapped in roses and delusion, there’s a door.

All you have to do…

…is time it right.

[rqbossman]

Hello! Apologies if this is a weird one, and I really hope that it doesn't feel overly intrusive.

Anyway, if I'm remembering correctly, you said today on the RQ anniversary stream that you use any pronouns, "feel free to change it up," at the start of the tabletop segment. Later on, someone did !alex in chat, though, and it said "(he/him)." Anyway, this isn't an issue or anything, but I wanted to ask for clarification, ig.

I've known some people who say "any pronouns," meaning they're alright with any, but usually default to one set, and I've met some who say "any pronouns," meaning they like to be called a wider variety and encourage people to mix them around. I think both are completely respectable, but if you're willing to say, do you have a preference between the two?

It's not my intention to stick a new label on you, or to force you to put one on yourself, let alone publicly, but I'm new to the streaming side of RQ, so just wanted to see if I had missed any context which you're comfortable with people knowing.

Apologies for the rough phrasing of this question, I hope it gets across what I mean to ask respectfully. I guess, like, would you consider yourself "he/him, but flexible," or more "any pronouns," or "all pronouns," or a whole different thing? And if it varies by context or moment, that's fine as well, but I get the feeling that you're aware of that. It's hard to categorize, but I feel like most people explain this stuff best in their own words, so while I want to give examples, like, I'm well aware that those aren't the only options and that identity is weird and often fluid.

Being concise isn't a strong suit of mine; in any case, thank you for all that you do. Ik I don't know you as a person, but from what I've seen, I do admire the changes you've created and fostered in the world, as well as your directed and written work. Would've loved to create a question about one of those, but honestly, I got anxious in the phrasing, so I'll leave it at asking about pronouns. Thanks again.

Congratulations and happy ten years!

Thanks for the kind words! Happy to clarify. I default to he/him but I mostly don't really care what people call me. I say "any" so people don't have to worry about misgendering me, not because I am desperate to be re-categorised or anything.

[cherrys-muses]

i am just gonna do this here and add a ‘see more’ button since it will more than likely get too long 😔

FIRST OF ALL i wanna start with @geminiwritten — the absolute, most sweetest person with a beautiful soul i’ve ever spoken to on this site. one of the accounts i ALSO check to see if she’s posted anything new to divulge in. i’m someone who isn’t very good at reading super long stories, i won’t lie, but i can EASILY get lost in her writing and feel like i am IN the story with no problem or confusion — everything is so thoroughly thought out. 100%, no fail. she deserves MORE HYPE !!!!!!!!!!! it’s crazy how she’s posting these writings for FREE. i have also read fics of people that i don’t necessarily read for on here off of her page, and was blown away honestly. you can tell bee is excited about writing by the way she shares things, or even updates about anything new she’s working on — it’s admirable. bee is genuinely such a warm and kind person. i’m so happy i stayed up til six in the morning lost in her works and im so happy that i can say we are mutuals (not in a weird way 💔) i could sit and write more but 💔

@rebelfell !!!!!! someone who i’ve admired always, even from my last account, i would always be excited to look at anything new she would post! she absolutely deserves all the hype she gets, plus more. i was honestly so flabbergasted when she followed me back.

@28bohemianmoons is another mutual who blows me away with their talent! i haven’t ever personally spoken with her, or anything, but i can tell she’s very genuine and kind! ❤️

@glassbxttless !!! ugh, she’s so wonderful with her writing as well — of course — even doing us a favor by writing characters who barely get the love they deserve!!!! everyone say ‘thank you cece’.

@urmum-lovesme — when i tell you she is another writer that’s on here who easily sucks you into their writing with absolutely no problem, it’s insane. i need to catch up on her story, i haven’t yet! but i need to get on that.

@eiightysixbaby !!! another kind soul who is (obviously) very wonderful at writing!!!

@punk-in-docs — when i tell you …. i screamed the VERY first time she had followed me on my other account when i was very deep and in my joseph quinn phase (still am, that man is never going away). she’s a very, very talented writer as well.

@keeryhours — sage will 100% EAT at anything she posts, NO DOUBT!!! and she’s also so very kind ❤️ definitely deserves more love!

@pretty-little-mind33 one of the first aaron taylor johnson accounts i had become friends with — and will never ever regret it. sky is such a lovely person and genuinely so kind and talented!

@fear-is-truth. there is NOT enough things i can say about jackie. i remember following her about a year ago and i remember when she hadn’t branched out yet with different fandoms and how she would apologize for her english (which she never had too at all!!!!), but looking at her account now and seeing how far she’s come, i’m so so proud of her and how much she’s evolved. she’s always been someone who is crazy talented yet just couldn’t see it herself. again, so so proud of jackie and will lover her forever and have such a special place for her in my heart. ❤️

@thecreelhouse …. syl …. oh my word . there’s so much you could say about them, but two words; talented and genuine. you can also tell how much she puts into her writings and i hate that she can’t tell how talented she is. it’s insane that i can consider her as a friend ❤️.

@starkeyvhs — kez!!! such a lovely soul who is so so talented 🩷 i remember her review on a writing i had posted (and now deleted) and how much i had smiled during the whole thing and how it will forever stick with me. i still need to catch up on some stuff she’s posted me in, but she is such a talented, sweet girl!!!

@strangerstilinski ❤️❤️❤️❤️ another person who i screamed about following me a while back ago. she’s someone who can make you feel so comfortable and as if you’ve have spoken before. i absolutely love her forever.

@marchsfreakshow — duckie, i absolutely love you. such a kind hearted, genuine friend and a talented writer. there’s things i definitely still have to catch up on, BUT im going to soon!!! ❤️ everyone deserves a duckie.

@littlexdeaths!!! i haven’t really spoken to her in a while, but i will never forget the times i have an how she was always so kind and genuine towards me or others.

@taintandviolent ….. lizzie, lizzie. lizzie. when i had first started out and started slowly writing/reading for evan peters, she was the first account id found and would ALWAYS and never fail to come back too, to see if there was ANYTHING new that she had posted (and i still do). she is so so so kind and it’s INSANE i can call her a friend. love her so much.

@scarstarved — wey doesn’t write, BUT her gif sets are so genuinely beautiful, not to mention how beautiful and kind she is as well! i couldn’t leave her out at all. ❤️

hi. go say something nice to your favourite writer(s). let them know they’re loved and seen and appreciated, and that their place in this world is not dependent on whether or not they’ve written anything recently. write that comment on that fic you’ve re-read for the fifth time just now. invade that ask box and give them some flowers in thanks. imagine a world in which they don’t write anymore, and be aware of the power that lies in kindness and genuine, random appreciation.

[ifwdominicfike]

you and dilf!chris get into a heated argument and the only way for you to forgive him is if he obeys you

���─ .✦. ──

“c’mon mama y’know i didn’t mean it” chris says as he reaches for your hand, you ignore him and swat him away. you roll your eyes and walk towards the living room as if he’s not even there.

“don’t be like that sweetheart, m’sorry you know that.”

he’s right behind you, and as soon as you hear those words you turn around to face him. a confused look plastered on his face, he really doesn’t know what he did? is he serious right now?

“no i don’t, because i have yet to hear a genuine fucking apology from you chris. are you that dense that you don’t know what you did?” you scoff, “w-well no..? i mean if you would tell me then we could fix this.” an arrogant tone twinge in his voice.

“you embarrassed me in front of your stupid friends, flaunting about our sex life and telling everyone our business, i don’t want them knowing what we do in the comfort of our own home.” you blurt out, not caring anymore. “really? ok look m’sorry okay? i sh-“ you cut off his “apology” to say something, “well i don’t forgive you, you owe me something more.”

he looks confused again, “what- what do you mean more?” he asks, “im in control tonight, since you wanna tell everyone how you’re the one in control.” you grab him by his shirt to pull him closer, “got it?” his eyes widen at the sudden change in behavior but none the less he cooperates.

“okay — yeah s’all you tonight baby, m’all yours.” he swallows the lump in his throat before being dragged by his wrist to the bedroom.

once you get there you sit on the edge of the bed, his disheveled figure standing above you waiting for you to speak again. “y’wanna make it up to me?” he nods yes, “get on your knees then.” he immediately drops down, looking up at you with the most gentle look ever.

“well come on baby, you know what to do.” your hand is tangled in his hair while you tug towards your soaked pussy, he scrambles to slide down your mini skirt and panties — hurrying his actions before you deny him anything.

before you know it his mouth closes around the throbbing bud between your folds and he sucks gently, your grip tightens around his curls, “f-fuck baby — such a good boy.. makin’ me feel s’good yeah?” he hums in agreement, his eyes flicker up to yours.

“aww sweetheart look at you, eyes all blown out and cock straining against your jeans you’re so cute. too bad you’re not gonna come anytime soon yeah?”

he quickly comes up to protest against you, so close to begging you for a release in any way but before he can get a word out your shoving him back into your wet folds.

his hands curl around your thighs and holds them apart, keeping you nice and open for him to make you feel every bit of his mouth working at you.

“y’look so pretty like that baby, maybe i should have you like this all the time — on your knees devouring me while you make a pathetic attempt at humping my leg, try that one more time and see what happens.”

he whines at your harsh words and mumbles a small “okay” you smile at how obedient he was being, you had never seen this side to him before and you were hoping to see again soon.

you tug at his messy hair while you cum, “oh my- fuck! oh y’so good chris, so perfect for me baby..” the bottom half of his face is dripping while he tries to catch his breath.

before you know it you had him underneath you begging to cum while he thrusts up inside you to chase that release you had made him hold off on. “plea- please ma, m’so sorry — i didn’t mean it please” the sound of skin slapping and heavy breathing filled the room, you grip his jaw to make him look at you.

“come on, i need something better than that” you grin and slap your hips down onto him, making him hit that spot inside that pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

“please ma’ i’ll be g-good! it won’t ever happen again i pr- shit i promise. just please let me cum —“ he’s basically on the verge of tears, you take a second to take it all in — him underneath you, begging, whining and crying for your permission to come.

it makes your head spin to see him like this, all needy for you. you decided to let him have it, “go ahead baby, cum for me.” he groans while thrusting up one more time before releasing all inside of you, you collapse onto his chest as you came right after him.

you both sit in comfortable silence while trying to catch your breath, its interrupted by you saying, “oh we are SO doing that again, you’re so fucking pretty when y’get like that” chris rolls his eyes before wrapping his arms around you, “well i mean you were pretty hot getting all aggressive and mad at me soo..”

- avery’s note ˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡-

is this considered a blurb still? again ily to @mattsstarlet for helping me with this!! ik the request didn’t say dilf!chris im so sorry but i hope you still enjoy this !! <3

taglist - @http-bellaa @chrissv4mp @jetaimevous @flouvela @chrislova @sophand4n4 @mattsfavoritestar @mattslolita @y3sterdaysproblem @strnilolover @cayleeuhithinknott @cherrynflowergarden @thinkshespretty @slut4chris888 @marrykisskilled @chaossturns @emely9274 @sturn777 @sturns-mermaid @st7rnioioss @whore4mattsturniolo @courta13 @pip4444chris @amyiasturnl @tezzzzzzzz @mattsstarlet @matts-wife @lilolebambi @raysmayhem-72 @chrepsi @chriscantwhisper @oopsiedaisydeer @iloveduckssm

[formulafanfics13]

Lando needing to take out his frustrations from a race that ended badly and so he does in bed. Which reader has agreed to and doesn’t mind. But maybe Lando gets too rough and she uses their safe word but he doesn’t realise because he’s so far gone. And then after many(or few) attempts he finally hears it(maybe she starts crying idk) and then Lando immediately feels bad and tries everything to make up for it ❤️

Brutal Love, Gentle Hands - LN4 🔥

masterlist

Summary After a disastrous race, Lando takes his frustration out in bed — too hard, too fast, too disconnected. You’ve always trusted him with your body, always had a safeword system in place for nights like this, when he needed to burn it all out. But tonight, he doesn’t hear you. Not until you scream red. And when he finally does — when it hits him what he’s done — everything inside him breaks. The story unfolds in the aftermath: apologies, shaking hands, grief wrapped in tenderness. He holds you in the bath. He doesn’t touch you again until you ask. Because you were never just a body to him. You were his home. And he forgot — for one devastating moment — but he never will again.

Warnings dark themes, rough sex, emotional distress, ignored safeword (momentary), panic response, aftercare, sobbing, protective partner, guilt, kink dynamic with safety system, intense emotions, bath scene, domestic softness after trauma, resolution through communication, consensual kink but temporary breach of boundaries, reference to couples therapy, hurt/comfort, no glamorisation of boundary-crossing.

You could always tell when it was a bad race. Not from the way he spoke, because Lando didn’t say much when he was like this. Not from his jaw, even though it was clenched so tight you could trace the shape of his molars through his skin. Not from the slamming of the door or the sound of his helmet hitting the floor or the shower running too long.

You knew it the second he touched you. Because it was different. Rougher. Faster. Less present, more desperate. Like he was chasing something that he couldn’t get from a car and was going to claw it from your body instead.

He kissed you hard in the hotel suite, the scent of race sweat and champagne and engine oil still clinging to his neck. His hands tugged at your waist. His voice, low and flat, was the only warning you got. "Clothes. Off. Now."

You didn’t protest. You never did on days like this. You’d agreed a long time ago that if he needed you to take it, if it helped burn through the frustration, if he needed to fuck the rage out of his system, you would take it. Because he would stop if it got too much. Because you had the safeword. Because you trusted him.

But tonight? Tonight, you should have known.

He didn’t kiss your mouth again after the first time. Didn’t undress you with the kind of reverence he usually did. He yanked your top over your head like it was in the way. Shoved your shorts down your thighs while dragging you to the bed like a possession.

“Fucking bullshit race,” he spat under his breath. “Could’ve had a podium. Fucking strategy fucked me. Always fucking me. At least you’ll take it properly.”

You gasped when he flipped you onto your stomach. Cried out when he forced your legs apart with a knee and buried his hand in your hair to pull your face back. You weren’t wet yet, not really, but he didn’t notice. Or maybe he didn’t care.

He shoved into you anyway. No prep. No warning. Just brute force and blind frustration.

“Good fucking girl,” he growled, setting a brutal rhythm that made your body jolt with every thrust. “You’re the only one who listens. The only thing I can fucking control.”

You whimpered. Fists clenched in the sheets. Tears pricking already. You wanted to be good. You wanted to take it. But it hurt. Too much.

The pace was relentless. His grip on your hair was vice-tight. You tried to speak, tried to say the word, but it came out garbled. Swallowed by the sound of skin slapping skin, by the raggedness of his breathing, by the litany of curses under his breath.

He wasn’t here. Not really. His body was, but his mind was still on the track. Still in the car. Still stuck behind a team radio screaming strategy calls too late.

You opened your mouth again. Tried to say it. Louder this time. “Red.”

No response. Your breath caught. You squirmed, he only growled louder and slammed into you harder.

“Fuck, stay still. Stop fighting me.”

You sobbed. “Red, Lando. Red-please.”

Finally. Finally his rhythm stuttered. You felt his hands freeze. Heard his breath catch, caught the split-second of clarity.

“What-?”

“Red,” you gasped, voice cracking, shaking now under him. “Red. Please- stop- I can’t- it hurts-”

And just like that, it broke. He pulled out immediately. Crawled off you with shaking hands, his own breathing suddenly ragged, terrified. “Fuck. Fuck. Babe- no. No, no, no-”

You curled onto your side, legs drawn in, trembling. A hiccup of a sob escaped you. Lando’s heart fucking shattered. “I didn’t hear you. I didn’t-” his voice cracked. “I didn’t know. Fuck. I didn’t mean- I thought- you always- fuck, I’m sorry.” He wrapped himself around you, completely abandoning his own nakedness. Arms tight, hands frantic as he tried to gather you against his chest without hurting you further. “Shhh, baby, I’ve got you. I’m here. I’m here. You’re okay now. You’re okay.”

You were still crying, too stunned to form words. Lando pressed kisses to your shoulder, your temple, your knuckles. Anything he could reach.

“You used your safeword. And I didn’t hear you. That’s on me. That’s not okay. I’m so fucking sorry.”

You nodded into his chest. Barely. But it was enough.

He shifted so he could look at you. His hands were shaking. “I’ll never do that again. Never. You’re more important than anything else. I don’t care about the race. I don’t care about the podium. I care about you. You’re mine but only if you want to be. You say stop, I stop. You say red, I stop. No excuses.”

He looked broken. More than after the race. More than after any crash. You reached up with a trembling hand and touched his cheek. “I know,” you whispered. “I know you didn’t mean to. You just didn’t hear me.”

“But that’s not an excuse. I should have- I should’ve seen- fuck. I hurt you.”

You shook your head. “You stopped. That’s what matters. You heard me. In the end.”

And he lost it. Head in your neck. Arms tight around you. You both cried, softly now. Together. He didn’t try anything else that night. Didn’t ask. Just cleaned you up, drew a bath, sat behind you and held you while you soaked in silence. He washed your hair. Rubbed your shoulders. Let you curl into him in bed with your face pressed against his chest and his arms cocooning you like a shield.

In the morning, he made you breakfast. Booked a session with the couples’ kink therapist you both used sometimes. Ordered you flowers. Called his trainer and cancelled media duties.

And he didn’t fuck you again until you asked for it. Because you were never just his outlet. You were everything. Even when he forgot, for a moment. He never would again.

[ang3lmoans]

In moments like this, Angel couldn't tell if Garam was teasing him. When you're comfortable, you can position me any way you want, too. I'm pretty flexible. How could someone who looked so sweetly innocent in his eyes utter such lewd words? He bit his bottom lip, captivated as he watched Garam sit up, clearly feeling him bottom out inside. Angel observed closely, noting the way Garam struggled to accommodate his size. He had expected this reaction and intended to be gentle—at least initially. Watching Garam watch as his length buried inside of him was so sexy he twitched inside the man. He gritted this teeth to keep from using the other as he always imagined. "Don’t apologize. Not for this," Angel murmured softly, gradually pulling out to his tip before easing back in slowly. He repeated this rhythm, his gaze fixed on Garam. Sharp exhales and soft moans escaped Angel’s lips. “F-Fuck, baby," he groaned, his voice rough and strained. His eyes slipped closed, the other squeezed so tightly around him it felt like his dick might snap off. Angel’s hands slipped to the smaller’s waist using his thumb to caress his skin. This was all surreal, not just having Garam under him. Hearing about his online persona. The possibility of being in his videos, him being the only one Garam had ever offered this to. All of this swirled through his head. He had trouble with people touching him. But Garam was different. It was Garam. His Garam. And now he was truly his.

so badly garam wanted to do exactly what angel was requesting of him, he wanted to do whatever he could to please the man but he was still consumed with so much fear because of where they were. he didn't care if people in suites surrounding theirs heard them, they could easily say it was the television and hope nobody questioned what they were watching that produced such erotic harmonies. what he feared the most was angel's family coincidentally being within earshot and hearing the two of them together in their intimate moment. he didn't want angel to have to answer those questions he was worried about receiving if his family found out they were anything but friends, he didn't want to make things uncomfortable for anybody. it was a difficult decision to make, but garam still nodded his head knowing he wouldn't let himself go loose completely but he'd still make sure angel knew just how much he was enjoying himself in the other's hands. each second that passed with angel's fingers teasing his hole was absolutely agonizing. he claimed to be a patient man, though others close to him would disagree, each second that angel wasn't inside of him wore away at his resolve. he squirmed, muscles tensing as he prepared himself for an entrance but nothing came yet. until it did. without warning, he gasped loudly. garam quickly pulled himself up to rest on his elbows so he could watch as each inch slowly disappeared inside of him, fighting the urge to wince and close his eyes tight until there was nothing left but flesh upon flesh. he let out a breath that he didn't realize he was holding in, though it came out more like a groan from the tinge of pain he felt from being stretched so wide. even if angel prepared him, his fingers clearly weren't a match the width he held under his belt. "sorry," he whimpered as collapsed back down to the mattress, as if he needed a reason to apologize for being tight. fingers gripped onto the blanket below him as he tried to relax the rest of his body but it was a difficult feat to manage as it had been so long since such he'd taken such girth. his eyes began to sting, small pools collecting at the outer corners. "go slow... please," he begged, knowing he'd need a moment for his body to acclimate. "when you're comfortable, you can position me any way you want, too. i'm pretty flexible." something garam wouldn't have had to announce if angel had watched any one of the videos on his onlyfans account.

[nullicaput]

skinner and the rat. X

Pairing: Han Su-Gang x Reader

Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Obsession, Teacher-Student Relationship, Power Imbalance, Reverse Power Imbalance, Age Difference, Dark, Su-gang being deranged as hell

Summary: Familiar faces and familiar violence—you thought after almost ten years, the kid you left would never remember you, but you were wrong.

Word count: 2116

previous chapter.

"Teacher [Name], a first-year is looking for you," someone said from the door. "Teacher?" 

A tap on your shoulder successfully snapped you out of your focus. Your eyes, which have been staring intently at the papers you were grading one by one, flew onto the person who disturbed you, and when they did, you saw your colleague with a high hairline smiling down at you expectantly.

"Yes?"

"A student's looking for you." 

You tilted your head—it took you a good minute to understand what he just said. 

"Oh," you finally acknowledged. "Where?" 

He raised a hand in the direction where this supposed student was standing, and upon looking, you saw the kid you temporarily saved from Su-Gang. Putting your pen down, you muttered a quick thanks to your coworker and made your way to Jin-Hyung.

"Good afternoon, miss." He bowed, handing you a folded cloth. "This was yours." 

"Sorry?" 

You eyed the cloth—it was your handkerchief.

"I washed it, so it's clean."

You took it with tender hands, your heart swelling at the sight of fading bruises littering his neck. 

"Thank you." 

Honestly, you forgot about you lending him that after all the havoc Su-Gang has done in a span of what you could estimate as ten minutes.

"Uhm, can I talk to you?" he asked—no, pleaded. 

"Regarding what?" You put the handkerchief in your pocket. "I don't remember holding a subject of first-years', child."

He pursed his lip and averted his eyes.

"Let's talk somewhere more silent," you offered, feeling the stares coming from behind. 

While leading him to the tutoring room, you maintained more than a respectable distance from him and kept your hands behind your back. The two of you entered, silence and discomfort mixing with each other the moment the door was closed. 

In all honesty, you would prefer to have this conversation outside, but you knew that although physical boundaries were an important factor to student-teacher interaction, confidentiality was, too. Whatever it was he wished to talk about it you must remain unknown to others, unless he was the one to disclose it. 

You stood at the opposite side of the room, and leaned onto one of the shelves, while you let him be seated near the entrance of the room.

"What's it, then?" you said, breaking the ice. "Don't worry. This room's soundproofed. People can see us through the door lite, but no one can hear."

He nodded, and opened his mouth. He closed it, and he opened it again. 

"I'm sorry that you got involved with my problem," he said, his voice breaking.

"Problem?" You massaged your temples. "You mean the bullying you were going through?" 

If you were to be technical, it should be you apologizing to him. Your involvement with this could cause him either safety or far more danger, but the latter seemed a lot more plausible. Still, as a teacher, you could not tell him details about your personal life.

When you saw him stiffen, you added, "What I did was something a teacher ideally should do in that situation."

Those words caused his eyes to widen, as though what you told him was a divine revelation. 

Poor kid must have undoubtedly been suffering so much despite the academic year barely being quarterway. 

"You shouldn't apologize for the faults you didn't do." You crossed your arms in front of your chest. "I don't think anyone would want to be hurt and mistreated by their peers."

You were far away from him, and during your talk with him, you have never touched him. You did not put your hand on your shoulder, nor did you offer him any physical comforts. Even then, he has never felt any safer than this moment. It was as if your presence were enough as it is for him to feel understood—to be heard by anyone without them trying to invalidate what he was experiencing and making it seem that he was in the wrong for being wounded by his upperclassman's sadistic ways to satisfy his lack of entertainment.

"What if he misplace his anger on you?" 

What if? He already did. He already does. 

"Who knows?" you said. 

Of course, it was not enough to make his fear die down. In fact, it only made it worse to see you be so dismissive about this. 

"Jin-Hyung, you should go home early," you shifted the topic—or ended it. "It's rainy season, and the clouds are really dark today."

You came back to your fellow teachers waiting for you like kittens waiting for treats. 

"What did the two of you talked about?" the first-year Language teacher pried. "You're teaching second years, no?"

A teacher breaking the code of ethics and wanting to gossip about students' concerns. 

How hilarious. 

Disgusting. 

"He asked me not to tell anyone."

Without saying anything more, you sat back and returned to your work.

A minute or so passed, and Mathematics teacher came back from wherever he went. 

"Oh, you're still checking essays." 

"Yes. A lot of the ones I've checked were well written. I still don't know about the others."

Feeling stressed at the number of grammatical errors from the paper you were reading, you subconsciously dug your upper left canine into the flesh of your lower lip. To make it worse, your checking pen has ran out of ink, an you did not have anything to replace it.

"Here," your male coworker said, lending you a blue pen.

"Thanks."

Concentrated on your task, you did not notice the particular way he looked at you. In an outsider's eyes, it could be described as him being interested in you instead of the topic of students' essay quality. 

"I've heard that you're good in English." 

"I can say that I'm able to communicate my thoughts properly." 

"Did you graduate from a good school?" 

"Not at all," you said, taking note of the fact that he could not read the room. "Just decent." 

"Self-taught?" 

"Yes."

Irritation was growing inside of you, and you were one question away from telling him off.

He really should be thankful of his good pen that you were being slightly more patient than him that you usually would with people who could not take a hint.

"Your left hand."

Is this bastard daft or what? 

"Oh, the scars?" 

"Where are they from?"

Oh, wrong move. 

"From a fork." 

"From a—I'm sorry."

With that, the blabbermouth has stopped at last. 

"It's fine. I don't even remember the kid who did this to me."

For a good hour, you were left in your solitude while you checked essays after essays. Some were unreadable, handwriting and content-wise, but thankfully, there are some that were remarkable.

You yawned, feeling the weight of your head becoming denser and denser.

"Teacher [Name], we're leaving," the English teacher said using the language. "Why don't you just take these papers home?"

You stretched your arms and tilted your head to loosen the knots that were building up along your neck. 

"I live a little far from the school." You grunted softly. "It's better for me to go home a little later than carry these all with me." 

Whichever of the two options you choose, you could not possibly go bother Kwon-Jung with such a trivial matter.

"Well, it's already quarter to six."

The faculty closes at seven, and the school closes at eight.

"I'll keep that in mind." 

You bid them goodbye, and soon, the only ones that remained inside the room were you and the vice-principal inside his office. 

You glanced at your phone and read the time. Debating whether to rest or power through your sleepiness, you decided to do the former. You set an alarm and put the right side of your head over its corresponding arm. You placed your left hand on your phone, so you could quickly stop it from ringing.

"Just fifteen minutes."

"Su-Gang, where are you going?"

After cutting all his classes that followed yours, Su-Gang left the rooftop without bringing his bag with him. To his so-called friends' surprise, he took the direction that would lead him to the principal's office and, eventually, the whole faculty's room. 

"Mind your damned business, you little shit." He pulled his vape out of his pocket and dumped it into the nearest bin. "Fucking cocksucker." 

Su-Gang was still not in the best mood after finding out that his crew lied to him last Friday. 

To think that they thought they would be spared for hiding the truth from him and trying to cover it up—brainless idiots. 

And to think that if he had not drive that car, he would never learn that you were holding hands with a man—a man he had no way of recognizing—and those bitches would be there with him, mooching off of his parents' money, internally laughing at his ignorance. 

He stepped foot inside the teachers' lounge without any thought in mind. Simultaneously, the vice-principal emerged from his cave, briefcase in hand and ready to leave. 

"Su-Gang," the old man squeaked. "What are you, er, what are you doing here?" 

"Are you ordering me to tell you what I'm here for?" 

"No!" he hastily replied. "Not at all!" 

Not risking to be the target, he got out of the room, not even noticing that there was still someone inside aside from him and the devil spawn. 

Su-Gang wandered inside the teachers' lounge, his eyes raking over the tables filled with clutter and picture frames of family members he could not care less about knowing. 

"Teacher [Name]?" 

He made himself comfortable beside you, sitting on the swivel chair of whoever was placed at your left. 

"Hey." 

When you did not answer him, he poked your forehead. 

You were indeed asleep. 

You were napping defenselessly at a place you knew he resided. 

He did not know whether to admire you for that or ridicule you. 

"A bitch like you shouldn't be getting on my nerves," he huffed. "But here we are." 

You have lived a life that had nothing to do with him, while all he had done after you left was for you. 

Rather, to have you.

He enhanced his physique so if he were to grab you and carry you, no one could pry his hands off of you the way those leech-like maids held him back after he stabbed you with a fork. He studied driving so if he were to abduct you, the both of you could easily get away from the public's eyes before they even notice you were gone. He did the things he had done for the sake of having you, and yet, you have lived your life that way. 

It was apparent that you were happy with the way your life had turned out after you left him. It was apparent, seen from the way you laughed. Your laughter with that guy was wider and happier than any of the ones you gave him nine years ago. That smile you had seemed so genuine, and he knew that the times you grinned at him were fake and full of fear. 

Normally, he would be elated at the idea of someone being terrified of him, but you—what he have for you—were nowhere near normal.

If you asked him to have you be hired as a teacher here, he would even give you double the salary of the principal. If you asked him to quit his vices, he would stop even with the risk of relapsing. If you asked him to take his studies seriously again, just like he used to do in his childhood, he would. If you asked him to push those kids who latched at him everyday from a height, he would do it in a heartbeat. 

With a price, of course. With the price being you, obviously. Nothing in this day and age is free. 

You changed, and so did he.

Not too much change on his end, though. After all, if you were the payment, he would never hesitate to do it. 

"Miss," he mumbled. 

He moved closer with the swivel chair and rested his temple against the cubicle divider, watching your evidently tired eyes flicker as you slept peacefully. He took your left hand and put it close to his mouth. He planted soft kissed onto your scars, admiring the way they persistently marked you even when the years have went by.

Similar to those scars, you could never get rid of him. 

"Miss."

He could kill you right here and right now without any difficulty, and no one would even rat him out.

"You made the wrong choice of continuing to teach here." 

And he does not forgive mistakes, no matter how small.

next chapter.

tag section.

@nickibunny23 @ghostedhymn @ashayein @yinyangcchii @ashayein @ruruyiin @mirwors @crazyhead333 @d4ily-s-nsh1ne @san-axa0 @4ria790 @nijru @iiwsmr @littlebignoona @hisokaupbitch3525

author's note.

Again, I apologize for the mistakes, especially when it comes to the teacher stuff. I'm not a teacher, and the program I'm studying is not Education.

Thank you for the support!

[pinkbowsxo]

Corrupted Innocence - Part 10

Choi Su-bong x F!Reader

Masterlist

summary: he’s been good to you all week but after a coffee date things went downward again, he’s also noticing weird changes about the way he feels for you

warnings: swearing, mention of alcohol, drugs and smoking, mentions of sex

a/n: it’s been way to long omg so i’m feeding you guys with a longer chapter

also i’m grieving after season 3 so😪

A few days later and you were happy. You weren't happy about the fight but it made you realize that he really cared about you.

You think he did but maybe you just want to believe that...

You also haven't had any more fights and Thanos hasn't given you the cold shoulder anymore. You're starting to believe that everything between you is back to normal.

Yet you still wanted that coffee with him. He acted so weird about it last time, but you thought maybe this is a right moment again. He's been fine after all...

You’re sitting in class, staring at your phone, debating whether or not to text him. You decide to do it: “Hey, do you want to get coffee when I’m done with school today?” You hit send before second guessing yourself again.

A moment later, your phone vibrates in your hand. You open the message and see his response: "Sure thing." It's short and simple, but not cold. You take that as a good sign.

Later that day, he meets you at the coffee shop. Without the tension of the last time, he seems almost... normal.

"What are you having?" he asks, already walking to the counter. "I'll get a black coffee."

“I’ll have a caramel latte,” you say softly, watching him order. His shoulders are relaxed, no tense jaw or deep frown like last time. He pays for both coffees without arguing when you try to pull out your wallet. “Keep your money,” he mumbles, handing you your coffee.

You picked out a table as you sit down by the window. He sits across from you, absently stirring his black coffee. There’s a comfortable silence between the two of you, nothing like the awkward tension from before. You take a sip of your latte, feeling strangely content to be here with him. Suddenly…

He surprises you by reaching across the table and taking your free hand in his. His thumb rubs circles over your palm, sending a warm shiver down your spine. His gaze meets yours over the rim of his coffee cup as he takes a sip.

You feel your heart skip a beat at his sudden touch. No words are exchanged, but the gesture speaks volumes. It’s an apology without saying sorry, a reconciliation without admitting guilt. His hand is warm and familiar, and fits perfectly in yours. Maybe he really is different…

It wasn't long before the moment was ruined as a few of his friends entered the store and saw him sitting there as they passed by.

His friends slap him on the back and pull chairs over without asking, interrupting the intimate moment between the two of you. They start laughing loudly and joking around, completely ignoring your presence. One of them sees you and raises an eyebrow in question. "Who’s this?" he asks Thanos out loud.

Thanos looks at his friends and then back at you, his expression cold and dismissive. He leans back in his chair. “No one important,” he says bluntly, not even looking at you as he turns his attention back to his friends.

You felt your heart drop into your throat. His friends asked if he wanted to smoke some weed outside with him. He stands up abruptly and grabs his jacket without even looking at you. “Yeah, let’s go,” he tells his friends, already heading for the door. You sit there, stunned, your coffee growing cold as you watch him leave, his laughter echoing behind him. His handprint remains in your palm.

You sit alone at the table for a few minutes, your thoughts racing through your head. One moment he’s holding your hand, almost tenderly, and the next he’s ignoring you and leaving with his friends. It feels like a cruel joke. A tear rolled down your cheek as you started to pack your things to leave.

Just as you gather your things, you hear the door to the café open again. You quickly wipe away a tear and try to compose yourself. Suddenly, a hand lands on your shoulder. "Wait," says a familiar voice behind you. It's him. His friends are nowhere to be seen.

He watches you quickly wipe your cheek. “Were you crying?” He realizes he may have hurt you earlier with his answer. He watches you pack your things, ready to leave. “Where are you going?” he asks. "I'm going home."

“Home?” he repeats, frowning. He steps in front of you, blocking your path. “Because of what I said?” He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “Look, I didn’t mean to… hurt you or anything.”

You were silent. “So you’re leaving because I wanted to hang out with my friends for a bit?” he asks, his tone slightly irritated. He doesn’t understand why you’re so upset. He watches as you remain silent and continue to pack your things without looking at him.

He reaches out and grabs your arm to keep you from leaving. “Hey, come on,” he says, running his thumb over your skin. “Don’t be like that. It was just a stupid comment. I didn’t mean anything by it.” His eyes search yours, seeking understanding, forgiveness, or something.

“Fuck off, Su-bong.” You let go of his arm and then you walked out of the store. He stands there, frozen for a moment, as you storm out. He watches you go, a mix of shock and confusion on his face. “What the fuck?” he mutters to himself, running a hand through his hair again. He hesitates for a moment before deciding to follow you.

He catches up to you outside the café and grabs your wrist tightly. “Stop walking away from me,” he says through gritted teeth, turning you around. His eyes are dark with frustration and something else—perhaps wounded pride? You try to pull away, but he clings tighter.

“You always do this,” he mumbles, avoiding your gaze. “Getting mad over nothing.” He tightens his grip on your wrist. “Are you having mood swings or something?” he asks rudely, but then he realizes he may have overstepped a line. He watches your reaction.

"No! YOU always do this, act so nice to me and then you're an asshole again!" you said. "And you always overreact," he shot back, his face inches from yours. "I said one thing about wanting to hang out with friends and now you storm off like a fucking brat." His jaw clenches as he holds your wrist.

“I just wanted to have one coffee with you…” Something in his chest tightens at your silent confession. His grip on your wrist suddenly feels too tight, so he lets go. “And I wanted to have one fucking coffee with you,” he runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “But I have a life outside of whatever this is.”

“I’m just going home,” you said. “God, stop being such a dramatic bitch,” he says, though there’s no real anger behind his words anymore. Instead, there’s just… exhaustion. “Just stop running away when we’re fucking arguing. For once in your life, just yell at me.”

You did the opposite. As soon as he called you a bitch, tears started streaming down your cheeks and you walked away. “Fuck…” he curses, watching your silhouette get smaller and smaller in the distance. He runs his hand over his face and suddenly realizes that he completely messed up.

How is he going to fix this?

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Later that night you were busy cooking and doing homework, but your mind was somewhere else. Eventually, after everything was done, you just sat there watching some lame romantic comedy, reminding you of the love you would never have.

You suddenly heard a knock on the door and as you stood up to open it, you saw that it was him. He was standing there, his hands in his pockets, looking tired and... apologetic? His gaze met yours for a moment before he looked down at the ground. "Can I come in?" he asked.

You said nothing, but opened the door wider for him to come in. He steps inside, closing the door softly behind him. The room is warm and cozy, filled with the smell of the food you cooked earlier. His eyes briefly wander around the living room before they go to the TV, where a romantic comedy is playing. He swallows hard, feeling like an even bigger asshole now.

“So?” you ask him. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “So,” he begins, finally meeting your gaze. “I was a dick today.” He pauses, waiting for a response from you, but when you stay silent, he continues. “I shouldn’t have called you that��”

You just crossed your arms. He sees your protective stance and the coldness in your eyes. He knows he made a big mistake. "I'm sorry, okay?" he says. "I got frustrated and I took it out on you. That was really stupid of me."

“Every time you say sorry and then do it again…” you said. “I know,” he interrupts, stepping closer despite the coldness in your eyes. “And I’m fucking sorry for that too.” He reaches for your arm, but stops halfway and lets his hand fall back to his side. “I-” You couldn't finish your sentence.

“I'm trying... I really am.” He pauses, then adds, “Please don't shut me out.” He's very good at creating guilt and manipulating.

He sees the doubt in your eyes and knows he has to say something that will make you listen. “I’ll do better,” he promises in a low, sincere voice. “I’ll really try to be a decent person. But I need you to give me a chance, okay?” You let him hold your hand.

He squeezes your hand gently, feeling relief flood through him. His thumb rubs circles over your palm, trying to communicate without words how sorry he really is. He steps closer, closing the distance between you until he's standing right in front of you.

He kisses you gently at first, almost apologetically. But as soon as his lips touch yours, something snaps inside him and he pulls you into a deeper, more intense kiss. His arms wrap around your waist and lift you up, so that your legs automatically close around his hips.

This is why he had you, he needed you to stay happy with him, so he could keep using you as his plaything. Even as he kisses you passionately, a part of his brain is calculating how long you’ll stay. He knows exactly how to manipulate you, how to make you believe he’s changed. His hands slide down your back, pulling you closer. “See?” he whispers against your lips.

You smile at him before kissing him again as he takes you to your bedroom. He pushes you onto the bed and covers your body with his. He knows your spot - where to touch, where to kiss. He hears your soft moans as his hands slide under your shirt. He's an expert at it. He can make you fall for him all over again with just his touch.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

This weekend he was hanging out with Nam-gyu at the club. Normally the four of you would do something this weekend, but you had to study for exams and so did Se-mi, so today it was just him and Nam-gyu. They were hanging out together in the VIP lounge, doing drugs, smoking and drinking.

He throws his head back and laughs loudly as Nam-gyu tells a wild story. The music is loud, but he can still hear his friend’s words. Thanos takes another drag on his cigarette and feels the high of the drugs starting to work. He feels invincible. Thanos told him he would be right back, because he wanted a drink from the bar.

Thanos stands up from the plush couch, his movements fluid and confident. He navigates the crowded club, his tall frame standing out. At the bar, he orders a whiskey on the rocks, leaning against the bar as he waits for his drink. He spots a pretty girl in the club as he waits for his drink before walking over to her.

He glances at her, watching her laugh with her friends. She’s attractive—long dark hair, big eyes. He walks over to her group and flashes a charming smile. “Hey,” he says loudly over the music. “You’re hot,” he says, leaning in so she can hear him. He sees her blush slightly, her friends giggling nearby. “Can I buy you a drink?” He knows how it works. Flirt, buy her a drink, maybe ask for a number. Easy.

The girl smiles at him, clearly flattered. "Sure," she says, leaning closer to him. He orders her a drink and they begin to chat casually. Thanos keeps up his charming facade, making her laugh and blush more than once. After a few minutes of chatting, Thanos hands her the drink and slips his number into her pocket. "Call me," he says with a wink before turning to leave. He's proud of himself, thinking he's managed to seduce another girl.

He heads back to the VIP lounge. Nam-gyu is still sitting there doing drugs. Nam-gyu looks up as Thanos returns with a knowing smirk on his face. "Got lucky, didn’t you?" he asks, nodding toward the bar Thanos had been at. He takes another drag of his joint and hands it to Thanos. “Just her number, need distraction.”

Nam-gyu chuckles and takes another drag before handing the joint back to Thanos. “Distraction or not, I still consider it a win,” he says with a laugh. He leans back on the couch and stretches out comfortably. “So what’s up? Why do you need a distraction anyway?”

“Fuck it,” he mumbles, taking the joint. “Just horny and bored,” he confesses, taking a long drag. He leans back against the couch cushions, his eyes slightly glazed over from the drugs. “That chick was cute, but...”

“Damn,” Nam-gyu laughs, watching Thanos finish his drink and stand back up. “You’re like a rabbit,” he jokes, shaking his head. “Go get some pussy then,” he waves him off, watching his tall frame disappear into the club. He scans the club again, his eyes settling on potential suitors. A girl catches his eye, she’s dancing provocatively with her friends, short dress, long legs. He looks her over for a moment before deciding she’s perfect for a quick date. He zeroes in on his target. He confidently walks up to her, leans in, and whispers something in her ear, causing her to giggle and turn around.

"Hey, pretty," he says, his voice low and seductive. He places a hand on her hip and squeezes it gently. "I'm Thanos. What's your name, baby?" He grins at her, already imagining what's going to happen later tonight. She smiles up at him, clearly interested. She says her name, her voice slightly slurred from the drinks she's had. She leans closer to him, her hand resting on his chest. "You're hot," she adds. He grins wider, enjoying the attention. "You're not so bad yourself," he replies, his hand moving to the small of her back and pulling her a little closer. "Do you want to get out of here? Somewhere quieter?" He leans closer, his lips almost brushing her ear as he speaks.

"Mmhmm," she moans softly, already aroused by his touch and deep voice. "Where?" she asks, nuzzling her face lightly into his neck. She's clearly tipsy and ready for anything. "Your place?" she suggests, biting her lip. "Or a hotel?" He chuckles, appreciating her directness. "My place is fine," he decides quickly. He texts Nam-gyu that he's leaving, then turns his attention back to the girl. "Let's go then," he takes her hand and quickly leads her out of the club.

Outside, he quickly hails a cab and helps her inside first. The ride to his apartment is relatively quiet, with her occasionally leaning against him and teasingly touching his thigh. Once there, he pays the driver and leads her to the door of his penthouse. "Home sweet home," He unlocks the door and lets her in first, turning on a few lamps to illuminate the spacious apartment. "Make yourself comfortable," he says, tossing his keys on the counter. He turns to her and grins again as he casually begins to unbutton his shirt. She looks at him hungrily and already begins to undress. "I'm comfortable enough," she says with a playful grin, letting her dress fall over her body and onto the floor. She steps out of it, now wearing nothing but a bra and panties.

"Mmm... that's quite the view," he growls appreciatively, watching her every move with raw desire in his eyes. He unbuttons his shirt all the way and lets it fall to the floor. "Come here..." He reaches out a hand to her, eager to pull her closer. She eagerly takes his hand and steps into his arms. He wraps it around her waist and pulls her tightly against his bare chest. He leans forward to kiss her deeply, his hands already sliding to her buttocks and squeezing them firmly. She moans into the kiss and rubs her hips lightly against him.

He effortlessly lifts her up and wraps her legs around his waist as he carries her to the couch. He wastes no more time and quickly removes her bra and panties before grabbing a condom and thrusting into her without warning. She cries out and wraps her arms tightly around his neck as he begins to thrust into her hard and fast. He fucks her on the couch, his hands gripping her thighs tightly as he spreads them wide open for deeper penetration. His lips curl back in a growl of intense pleasure mixed with aggression - typical Thanos behavior during sex! She screams loudly each time he thrusts deep inside her.

He doesn’t know why, but as he fucked her, you flashed through his mind. As Thanos continues his relentless pace, an image of you suddenly flashes through his mind—your face, your body, your voice echoing in his head. It’s a brief distraction, but it only fuels his desire, causing him to thrust into her even harder. It’s probably a combination of the alcohol, the drugs, and the intense physical pleasure that’s causing his mind to wander. He’s not thinking clearly, his body taking over completely. As he nears his climax, he buries his face in the girl’s neck and whispers your name instead of hers.

The girl looks confused and slightly irritated and pushes against his chest. "What did you just say?" she asks, clearly wondering who that it is that just slipped from his lips. Thanos freezes, realizing he's made a mistake. He quickly covers it up, growling "Nothing" and kissing her hard to shut her up, but his mind wanders. Why did he say your name? It doesn't make sense.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Sunday night you were supposed to go over to see him before you had exams tomorrow. As the evening sun begins to set, Thanos is home, a glass of whiskey in his hand. His mind is still hazy from the activities of the night before, and your name keeps echoing in the back of his mind for reasons he can’t understand. As he ponders his strange behavior, the doorbell rings. He knows it’s you before he even opens the door, a primal instinct alerting him to your presence. He takes a deep breath and tries to gather his thoughts before answering, revealing his muscular body with a stern expression.

You show up with a big smile on your face and in cute clothes, the complete opposite of what those sluts in the club he keeps picking would wear. Your smile is infectious, and your outfit is cute and innocent. He steps aside without a word and lets you into his apartment. As you walk past him, he catches a whiff of your sweet perfume, nothing compared to the strong, artificial scents those club girls wear. He watches as you put down your bag and bounce lightly on the balls of your feet, full of energy. “Less stress?” he asks. You beam at him, “Yeah, all my notes are sorted. No stress!” You unroll your scarf, revealing a soft, light pink sweater that slightly accentuates your curves. Thanos swallows.

He walks into the kitchen and hands you a can of coke. “Here, did you miss your caffeine fix today?” he asks, leaning casually against the counter. His eyes follow you as you take a seat at the kitchen island. “Have you eaten?” he adds, opening the fridge. “Actually, I did.”

“Good.” He nods and closes the fridge. He pours himself a glass of whiskey and leans on the counter across from you. “So, no stress, no hunger. What brought you by?” he asks, his gaze lingering on your lips as you take a sip of his Coke. “Maybe I just wanted to see you.” Thanos raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing at his lips. “Maybe I should just charge you for my company,” he teases, taking a sip of his whiskey. He sets the glass down and leans closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Or maybe I should just-“

"Should I just kick you out, because you know what those cute little sweaters do to me?" He reaches out and gently tugs at the collar of your sweater.

You smile at him. It’s disarming. He lets go of your sweater, his hand lingering for a moment before he pulls away. “You’re too pretty for your own good,” he says. He then walks around the kitchen island and wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you up. He lifts you effortlessly and sets you down on the cool counter. Your legs automatically spread around his hips. He grins. “No bra?” he mumbles, his thumbs brushing the front of your sweater, searching for the answer himself.

"No.” He wraps your arms behind your back. He grabs your wrists with one large hand and holds your arms behind you. Your chest pushes forward slightly, making your breasts more prominent. He growls softly, "Damn baby, are you walking around like that?" he mumbles, spreading your legs wider with his hips. "Just for you." His eyes darken at your words. "Don't test me," he whispers, holding your wrists with one hand and sliding the other over your bare thigh. "What a fucking tease." His lips find your neck and plant hot kisses on your skin.

You chuckle against his skin. Maybe he doesn’t know it, maybe he doesn’t want to admit it, or maybe he just doesn’t know what it feels like, but he has a thing for you, something that goes beyond just fucking you, which was the whole reason he wanted you in the first place.

[cayleeuhithinknott]

��� — get well soon . . . sub!chris

in which . . . chris has a bad mental health night and shows up at your door for comfort.

warnings . . . emotional vulnerability , anxiety , mental health struggles , comfort-heavy , use of good boy and mama , crying

𝑺𝑾𝑬𝑬𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑬𝑹 𝙒𝙍𝙄𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙈𝘼𝙍𝘼𝙏𝙃𝙊𝙉 𝙁𝙄𝘾 #14 (FINAL)

chris doesn’t text first.

doesn’t call. doesn’t warn you.

he just shows up at your door at 11:47pm, hoodie pulled over his head, shoulders hunched like he’s physically holding himself together with the last bit of energy he has left.

you’re already halfway to the door the second you hear the knock. something in you knows.

when you open it, there he is. barely looking at you, hands stuffed deep in his pockets, eyes glassy and unfocused.

“baby,” you breathe, voice low, already stepping aside to let him in.

he doesn’t speak. just moves toward you in that slow, broken way, like gravity’s got him by the throat.

the second you shut the door behind him, he’s curling into you.arms wrapping around your waist, face burying itself into the crook of your neck, hoodie soft against your skin but his breathing even softer.

you don’t ask what’s wrong.

you already know this routine.

instead, you press your hands to his back, fingers spreading wide like you’re physically trying to shield him from whatever storm’s still chasing him.

“deep breaths for me, baby,” you whisper, “in through your nose…slow…that’s it.”

he tries. you feel the tremble in his ribs as he sucks in a shallow breath. holds it for a second. then lets it out, shaky and uneven but still progress.

“good boy,” you murmur, kissing his temple.

he makes a small, broken noise at that. like the words cracked something in him he didn’t want to admit was there.

you tighten your arms around him. rock him gently side to side like muscle memory.

“been one of those days again?” you ask softly, letting your chin rest on top of his head.

he nods into your chest.

“bad thoughts?”

another nod.

“okay. you don’t have to talk about it yet.”

you lead him to the couch without letting go of him, sitting down and tugging him into your lap like he weighs nothing. his long legs tangle with yours immediately, arms still locked around you like he’s scared you’ll disappear.

he’s quiet for a long time.

just stays there, pressed against you, letting you rub soothing circles into his back and play with the ends of his hair.

you feel him tense when he tries to pull in a deeper breath, like even breathing feels too hard right now.

“you’re okay,” you whisper, voice low and steady. “you’re not alone. you’re safe.”

he lets out a shuddery sigh.

“…don’t wanna ruin your night,” he says eventually, voice so small it barely sounds like him.

you pull back just enough to tilt his chin up, forcing him to look at you. “hey. listen to me. you’re never ruining anything. you’re allowed to have bad days. you’re allowed to need me.”

he swallows hard, blinking up at you with those glassy blue eyes.

“but i wanna be strong for you,” he croaks. “don’t wanna…be like this.”

you soften instantly. press your forehead to his.

“then let me be strong for both of us tonight, yeah?” you whisper. “just for a little while. let me take care of you.”

that’s what breaks him.

he lets out this tiny, wounded noise and just sinks. fully melts into you like he’s surrendering, shoulders finally sagging, hands fisting in your hoodie like he’s holding on for dear life.

you keep stroking his back. letting him cry if he needs to. letting him breathe if that’s all he can do.

you kiss the top of his head. “you’re doing so good for me, baby. you’re trying so hard. i’m so proud of you.”

he sniffles against your chest. “m’sorry.”

“stop apologizing,” you tease gently, scratching your nails through his hair. “my sweet boy doesn’t need to be sorry for having feelings.”

he lets out the smallest laugh. barely there, but it’s enough.

“there’s my boy,” you smile.

you talk to him about nothing for a while. little things. what you made for dinner, something dumb you saw on tiktok, how you tripped over your own feet earlier in the kitchen.

slowly, he starts answering. giving you soft little comments. making sleepy jokes under his breath like he’s trying to pretend he wasn’t falling apart twenty minutes ago.

“you’re mean,” he mumbles when you tease him about how clingy he’s being.

“you love it,” you grin, tapping his nose.

he blushes a little but doesn’t argue.

eventually, you manage to pull him up and into your bedroom.

he whines the whole way there, dragging his feet dramatically just to be annoying.

“mama,” he pouts. “wanna stay on the couch with you.”

“we’ll be way more comfy in bed,” you say, tugging him along. “and you’re taking your jeans off before i cuddle you. house rules.”

he grumbles but obeys, kicking them off and tossing them across the room before flopping into your bed with a huff.

you join him a second later, pulling him right back into your arms.

he’s asleep in less than five minutes—curled into your chest, legs tangled with yours, fingers still curled in the hem of your hoodie like he’s scared you’ll vanish if he lets go.

you run your fingers through his hair one last time and press a soft kiss to his forehead.

you’ll always take care of him.

and you mean it. every word. every time. forever and always—your boy.

author’s note . . . that’s a wrap!! this marathon is gonna double as my 1 year being on this app because i cannot bring myself to do anything else 😵‍💫 but i hope everyone enjoyed this!! :)

🏷️ : @sturniolo04 @admeliora94 @alexturnersgooch @snuffbut @strnilolover @frattboychris @marrykisskilled @mqttittude @purpledragon222 @aubsloveschris @paisleyy22 @emely9274 @oliviasthatgirl @conspiracy-ash @matthewsroses @pasteldreams @matts-wife @courta13 @sugarraez @adorechris @elenayzxsturn @mattybsgroupie @oopsiedaisydeer @bluestriips @grace-sturnz @sturnboos @owenstar @ribbonlovergirl @tweetybaird @tezzzzzzzz @vanteguccir @bernardmatthews @weirdothatwrites @thighs4evan @lm-a-mirrorball @iluvchr1s @sturnslux3 @cutseylady @iconiccolo @beardedbernard @kenah-sturniolo @edwardscoldhands

© cayleeuhithinknott

[spidercatweb]

Back To Sleep ★ Spencer Reid x reader

Warnings: afab!reader, r is not referred to w/ any pronouns so gn!reader, r has a period, description of kind of gross things relating to periods, mention of nausea (nothing happens), established relationship, spencer being a sweetie pie :) this is fluff!! <3

Description: you wake up in pain and discomfort from your period.

Word Count: 447

A/n: r is literally meeeee rn im dying over here i need spencer reid in here right neowww. apologies for the gross descriptions but this is what happens to me often.

You wake up with a sharp inhale. You’re drenched in sweat, and the stabbing pain in your abdomen is nearly nauseating. What a wonderful way to wake up.

Slowly sitting up in bed, you look over to Spencer. He’s still fast asleep, face smushed into his pillow. He’s astonishingly cute. Almost cute enough for you to not notice the sensation of what feels like litres of blood gushing out of you as you sit up. Almost. You wince as you stand up and walk carefully to the bathroom.

There is no way that you’re not taking a shower right now. You feel sticky, overheated and overall gross. Not that you think periods themselves are gross, they’re natural, of course. It's just the once a month feeling of dread and the aforementioned sticky, overheated unpleasantness of it all that you could do without.

You shut the bathroom door and peel off your unnecessarily damp clothes. After using the toilet, you rush into the shower as fast as possible. Getting blood on the floor is annoying and you don’t want another thing to deal with right now.

***

One incredibly refreshing shower later, you emerge from the bathroom, wrapped in your towel. The first thing you do is snatch some underwear from your dresser and race back in. After that’s dealt with, you come back out in search of some fresh pajamas. Slipping on a light pair of shorts and one of Spencer’s t-shirts, you find comfort in how much the shirt smells like him.

Feeling much cleaner, you slide back into bed. Spencer stirs at the sudden dip in the mattress as you lay down next to him. He turns to you, eyes still half-lidded.

“You okay?”

“Mhm.” Reaching for your heating pad, you nod.

Spencer eyes your damp hair, “Did you shower?”

Inching closer to him and slinking an arm around his waist, you respond. “Yeah, I woke up feeling really gross. I’m going to go back to sleep though.” You tilt your head into his chest, yawning.

“Oh, okay.” He wraps an arm around you, resting his hand on your lower back. “Anything I can get you? Water? Tea? Midol?”

“You can stay here and cuddle with me, how about that?” You look up at him with a sleepy grin.

He mirrors your smile. “Sounds perfect.”

Searching for a position that dulls your cramps, you slot a leg in between Spencer’s. He happily adjusts for your comfort.

Feeling that he’s about to say more, you interrupt the silence. “I will have some tea later, and lots of water, I promise.”

He giggles and presses a kiss onto the top of your head. “I’ll hold you to that.”

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