#but again i think its just me not feeling secure and with everything that's happened these past two years i just cant feel like its safe

[stylesispunk]

'The other side of the door'

Not outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: Joel is giving you the silent treatment until you come back home hurt, and he wasn't there.

w.c: idk.

warnings: angst, miscommunication, mentions of a broken arm, fluff.

a/n: this is me after having an outburst about not writing again. If this flops I will have another one and I'll take a break forever. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated 💌

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

It was 2 a.m., and you were sobbing on the cold bathroom floor like a little girl, asking for her mother to kiss the tears away. The pain on your now broken arm was unbearable, but the stillness in your heart was worse, enveloped in a shirt that belonged to your brother-in-law instead of your boyfriend because he didn’t pick up the phone after the officers called him.

Instead, Tommy picked you up, rushing to you the moment he saw you by the ambulance with a sling around your left side and a bandage on your forehead.

“Oh my god! Are you okay? Where is Joel?” He said something, touching your face for some sort of answer, but you stopped listening to him after Joel’s name was mentioned.

“I don’t know where Joel is.” You said it monotonously.

Tommy's face paled as he realized the gravity of the situation. "It's going to be alright; we'll find him," he said, though his voice trembled with uncertainty.

“He didn’t pick up the phone,” you said again. “He hasn’t talked to me in a week, Tommy.”

“My brother can be grumpy sometimes; you know him,” he said, trying to find a way to make you smile, but you felt just ashamed.

You didn’t mean to be hit by a car on the on the way home, but everything happened so fast, and your mind was everywhere but focused on the road ahead of you.

“What if I call him?” he offered.

“He turned off the phone after my call,” you said, standing up slowly with the help of the paramedic.

Tommy helped you into the backseat of his truck, making sure you were secure before he slid into the driver’s seat. The drive to your house was quiet, save for your occasional wince of pain and Tommy’s sighs of worry. He kept glancing at you through the rearview mirror, his concern evident.

Once home, Tommy guided you inside, supporting your weight gently. He settled you on the couch and handed you a glass of water. "You need to rest," he said softly. "I’m sure you both will figure this out in the morning."

You nodded weakly, too exhausted to argue. The pain in your arm was a constant reminder of the accident, but the ache in your heart was a dull, persistent throb. You clutched Joel’s shirt tighter around you, its familiar scent providing a small comfort.

“Do you want me to stay here and beat him once he arrives?” He asked jokingly, making you smile for a mere second.

“No, I don’t think that’s necessary,” you said, managing a weak smile despite the situation. “But thank you, Tommy.”

He chuckled softly, sitting down beside you. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. Joel can be stubborn, but he loves you. I’m sure he’ll come around.”

You leaned your head back, closing your eyes for a moment. The exhaustion was overwhelming, but sleep was still a distant hope.

Tommy stayed with you for a little while longer, making sure you were comfortable. He adjusted the pillows around you and tucked the blanket more securely. "You should get some sleep," he said gently. "I'll stay until you do."

You nodded, too tired to argue, but you couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness. You tried to focus on the comforting presence of Tommy, the warmth of Joel's shirt, and the hope that things would be better in the morning.

Eventually, Tommy rose from the couch. "I'm going to head out now. You can call me if you need anything, okay?"

You managed a small nod. "Thanks, Tommy. I really appreciate it."

He gave you a reassuring smile, though the worry never left his eyes. "Get some rest. We’ll figure everything out in the morning." He squeezed your shoulder gently before heading to the door.

You listened to the sound of the door closing and the silence that followed. The house felt impossibly quiet and empty. The weight of the evening pressed down on you, and tears welled up in your eyes again.

There was Joel’s shirt on the couch, and you clutched it tighter with your left arm, breathing in the faint scent of him. The memories of the accident replayed in your mind—the screeching tires, the impact, the confusion. But what hurt the most was Joel’s absence, his phone turned off, and the uncertainty of where he was or why he hadn’t answered.

You stood up, walking upstairs towards your and Joel’s bedroom, but instead of lying on the bed, you walked to the bathroom, closing the door behind you, and slid down, sitting on the floor. Tears began to flow down your cheeks.

Joel wasn't home. Now that you needed him, he was out somewhere, still avoiding you.

You sat on the cold bathroom floor, your back against the door, and let the tears flow freely. The pain in your arm was nothing compared to the ache in your heart. You felt abandoned, hurt, and utterly alone.

As the minutes passed, you lost track of time, consumed by the overwhelming sadness. The sound of your sobs echoed off the tiled walls, and you didn’t hear the faint sound of a key turning in the front door or the footsteps on the stairs.

Joel moved through the house with a growing sense of urgency, the emptiness and silence amplifying his fear. It wasn't until he stepped inside the bedroom that he heard you wiping from the bedroom.

Gently, he opened the door and saw you sitting on the cold floor, clutching to your own arm and sobbing uncontrollably. The sight broke his heart, and he immediately kneeled beside you, his presence startling you from your sorrow.

"What the hell happened?" he asked softly, ignoring your plea. He didn’t understand why you were this hurt when, in the morning, you were perfectly fine.

"Go." You whispered, ashamed of yourself for being hurt and crying.

"Now you want to talk?" you asked, standing up carefully and using the wall for support.

Joel reached out to steady you, his touch gentle but firm. "Please, just tell me what happened," he said, his voice filled with concern.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. "I was hit by a car on my way home. It happened so fast, and I was so scared. The officers called you, but you didn't answer. Tommy came instead."

Joel's face paled, his eyes widening with shock and guilt. "I had no idea. My phone died, and I was out of town.”

You could see the sincerity in his eyes, but the hurt and anger you felt couldn’t be ignored. "You haven't talked to me in a week, Joel. I needed you, and you weren't there."

Joel's shoulders slumped, and he looked down, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know. I’ve been a fool, and I’m so sorry. I let my pride get in the way, and I hurt you because of it. Please, let me make it right."

You looked at him, and the regret was evident on his face. It mirrored your own feelings, and slowly, the anger began to melt away, replaced by a longing for things to be better. "I just needed you," you repeated, your voice trembling.

Joel took a step closer, his eyes filled with tears. "I'm here now. I promise, I’ll never let you down again.”

"You didn't seem to care about me for the last week, Joel."

"Lo—"

"Don't you dare call me that now. I'm mad at you," you interrupted, your eyes flashing with anger.

Joel looked stricken, his mouth opening and closing as he searched for the right words. "I know I messed up. I know I've been distant, and I'm so sorry. But please believe me, I do care about you more than anything."

You took a step back, needing space to think and process everything. "If you care so much, why did you ignore me? Why did you shut me out over missing dinner?"

His heart broke at the sight of you, staring away from him with dried tears on your cheeks. He didn't have words left to make this better, nor a way to ask for forgiveness or soothe your heart after breaking it without real intention behind it.

He was angry at you for missing the dinner, and he wanted to get it back at you.

But this? This wasn't what he wanted.

"I can't say how sorry I am," Joel continued, his voice cracking.

"Well, don't say it then," you snapped back.

"Love—"

“No! I'm tired, and everything hurts. My arm is broken, and I feel so humiliated right now. I just want to go to sleep,” you cried out, the words pouring out in a torrent of emotion.

"Okay, let me help you,” he said, reaching out to touch your shoulder, but you stepped back from him.

"No, everything you have done for the past week makes me cry," you said, the weight of your words hanging in the air. "You make me cry," you sobbed into your hand, trying to sweep the tears away.

Lifting your gaze, you looked at Joel, who seemed to be conflicted. His brown eyes, now glassy with unshed tears, almost made you give in.

"Could you please sleep in the guest room tonight?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel's face fell, but he nodded slowly, understanding the need for space. "Okay," he said softly. "I'll be in the guest room. If you need anything, anything at all, just call me."

You nodded, too drained to respond further. Joel hesitated for a moment, then turned and left the room, the weight of his footsteps heavy on the floor. As he reached the bedroom, he turned towards you.

“Do you want to know why I was so mad at you for missing that dinner?” He asked, his voice low and filled with a mix of regret and vulnerability.

You looked at him, the exhaustion and pain making it hard to process everything, but you nodded slightly, curious despite yourself.

Joel took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours. “It wasn’t just about the dinner. It was because I had planned to ask you to marry me that night.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with emotion. You stared at him, the weight of his confession taking a moment to sink in. You felt your heart beating so fast.

“Joel,” you started, your voice trembling. “I had no idea.”

“I know,” he said softly. “And that’s on me. I should have talked to you instead of shutting you out. I’ve been a fool, and I’m so sorry for everything.”

The revelation left you feeling even more conflicted. The pain of the past week, the accident, and now this. You didn’t know how to respond, so you simply nodded, feeling the tears welling up again.

Joel took a step back, giving you space, but not without planting a gentle kiss on your forehead, just next to the bandage. “Goodnight,” he said gently, before turning and walking to the guest room.

After that, you lay down, clutching Joel's pillow tightly against your chest, the familiar scent providing a small comfort amidst the chaos of your emotions. As you closed your eyes, the weight of the day slowly began to lift.

The night dragged on, each minute feeling like an eternity. You tossed and turned in bed, unable to find comfort. The weight of Joel's confession and the emotional turmoil of the past week kept you from sleeping peacefully. The silence of the house was deafening, and the pain in your arm felt almost secondary to the ache in your heart.

Around 3 a.m., unable to bear the loneliness any longer, you decided to go to the guest room. Moving slowly and carefully, you made your way down the hallway, each step mindful of your broken arm. The pain was a constant reminder of the day’s events, but the burning desire to be near Joel overpowered it.

You opened the guest room door quietly, the creak of the hinges making you wince slightly. Joel was lying on the bed, his back turned to you. You carefully slipped into the room, trying not to disturb him too much. The guest bed was slightly too small, but you managed to settle in beside him, positioning yourself so as not to jostle your arm too much.

Joel stirred, his eyes fluttering open. He blinked, his gaze shifting to you. Confusion and surprise crossed his face as he saw you lying next to him. He sat up, pushing himself on one elbow, his brow furrowed in concern.

“What are you doing here?” he asked softly, his voice still heavy with sleep.

You shifted slightly to face him, your voice barely above a whisper. “I couldn’t sleep... I needed to be close to you.”

Joel’s eyes softened, and he reached out carefully, his hand brushing against your cheek. “Are you okay? Does your arm hurt?”

“It hurts,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “But I just needed to be near you, to feel like everything might be okay.”

Joel nodded, understanding the depth of your need. “I’m sorry for everything,” he said again, though his tone was gentler this time. “I know I’ve hurt you, and I’ll do everything I can to make it right. Please, just let me be here for you.”

You reached out and took his hand, feeling curiosity creeping up. “About the proposal,” you began. “Are you planning to ask me soon?”

Joel's eyes softened, and he looked at you with a mixture of hope and vulnerability. “I was planning to ask you that night,” he admitted, his voice low and filled with regret. “But now I don’t feel like I deserve you.”

You searched his face, seeing the sincerity in his eyes.

Joel took a deep breath, his expression serious yet tender. “Now, I want to make sure we’re in a good place before I ask you. I want it to be right, and I don’t want to rush into it just to fix things. But I can’t deny that I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

You smiled softly in the darkness, your heart swelling with emotion. “I would love for you to ask me now,” you whispered.

Joel chuckled softly, a sound that was warm and comforting in the quiet of the night. “Even with the broken arm?” he asked, his voice light with affection.

You nodded, your smile widening. “Even with the broken arm, I know we have things to work through, but I’d still say yes.”

Joel’s laughter was gentle, filled with relief and affection. “You never cease to amaze me,” he said, brushing a gentle kiss against your forehead. “Alright, then. I promise that when the time is right, I’ll ask you properly. For now, let’s focus on getting better and being here for each other.”

You nestled closer to him, feeling the comfort of his embrace. “I don’t need a fancy proposal in a fancy restaurant, Joel. I just want you,” you said softly.

Joel’s expression softened even more, his hand gently stroking your hair. “And you have me,” he said, his voice filled with sincerity. “No matter what, I’m here for you. We’ll get through this together, and when the time is right, we’ll take the next step together too.”

You let out a small, playful sigh. “Okay, if there isn’t a ring on my breakfast tomorrow, I’ll be mad,” you joked, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Joel laughed softly, the sound a comforting balm to your troubled heart. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, his tone light but warm.

He took a deep breath, his gaze steady and sincere. “So, would you like to marry me?” he asked softly, his eyes searching yours for a response.

The question hung in the air, tender and unexpected. You looked at him, your heart swelling with emotion. The warmth and love you felt in that moment made it clear that you were ready to take that next step.

With a smile that spoke of both relief and joy, you nodded. “Yes, Joel. I would love to marry you.”

Joel’s face lit up with a mixture of happiness and relief. He pulled you into a gentle embrace, his arms wrapping around you with tenderness to avoid hurting your broken arm. “I’m so glad,” he murmured into your hair. “We’ll make it work, I promise.”

You snuggled closer to him, the sense of security and love filling you with a peaceful calm. As you closed your eyes, the laughter and playful banter gave way to a hopeful, contented sleep, wrapped in the warmth of his presence and the promise of a future together.

[trollprincess]

So I have a friend from high school who is a cop. (Yes, I KNOW.) I shared a photo on Facebook of a packed highway of people attempting to evacuate from Hurricane Milton, all while the lanes going in the opposite direction were open and empty. And my Facebook post was basically me screaming, “Open the other side of the highway and reverse it so that people can GET OUT.”

His response was essentially, “Yeah, that is *really* difficult for us to do.” Not in a condescending way, because he genuinely isn’t a huge asshole. (Yes, I KNOW.)

And then I may have vented in my response, in which I tried not to imply that the police were a problem. Because to be honest, I don’t see this as a police problem. I see this as how we have fucked ourselves as a nation by making ourselves so dependent on cars.

There is that poll on this site – or multiple polls, at this point – asking how long people can tolerate being in their cars. And the thing is, Americans (and Canadians as well, I am imagining) have almost no other options. We have to be used to spending a good 12 hours in a car without breaking a sweat. Everything in this country is built around being in a car. There’s a reason when you ask us how far away a place is from somewhere else, we normally give that distance in hours and not miles.

Air travel sucks. It sucks for a multitude of reasons – cost, the hassle of dealing with security, the time suck, etc. – and in an emergency, only a select few are going to be able to use it to get away from a hurricane. And that’s one of the few disasters where air travel is an optional escape.

Train travel sucks. Amtrak is not something you’re gonna be complaining about if you’re trying to get away from whatever disaster you need to evacuate from. But next to so many other countries, Amtrak looks like we’ve been receiving other countries’s leftover railway systems from the 70s. It also doesn’t go everywhere. I live in northeastern Pennsylvania near Scranton, which prides itself on its history in the train industry. We have a museum and everything. We have multiple things named after that museum, including the Steamtown marathon which is happening tomorrow.

Can you get on a passenger train in Scranton? Nope.

(The main argument against this always seems to be that people will come here from New York City and commit crimes, which is hilarious considering if somebody wanted to come here from New York City and commit crimes it’s only a 2.5-hour drive.)

Anyway, disasters.

If the only option you’re gonna give most people to get out of areas of Florida that are being targeted by hurricanes or areas of California that suffer from wildfires or places in the Midwest that face flooding are cars, then we need a better fucking emergency management system regarding transportation in this country. You can’t just sit there and mock people for not evacuating because they can’t or won’t when getting away from Milton meant sitting on highway for hours with absolutely no gas stations whatsoever nearby having any gas at all. (It just makes me think of those photos of people stranded on the highway in their cars in blizzards where people are like, “Now imagine imagine how bad it would be if all of those cars were electric!“ Well, all of those cars in that photo in that blizzard run on gas and they’re fucking stranded, sooooooo.)

Look, we can change the transportation system in this country. we did it before and we can do it again. We used to have more train options, fewer highways. My small hometown had a fucking trolley in the 40s. Now, if you don’t have a car here, you’re stuck. You can’t even get Uber here. if a wildfire started here and surrounded the town, it would be a clusterfuck.

Regardless of how you feel about the police, if police and fire departments in this country cannot organize an evacuation on a highway in a way that will reduce the backup so that tens of thousands of people aren’t sitting in their cars when a hurricane hits, that’s a problem – not just for those people, but for the police, and the fire department, and emergency management in general.

The people in charge of emergency management are just people, just human. I’m researching the Camp Fire in 2018 right now, and you had a bunch of people calling 911 saying, “I can see a huge fire off to the east. Are we safe? Should we evacuate?” The 911 operators could only work off the information they had. They could have told people to evacuate earlier, but Cal Fire didn’t anticipate the strength of the fire. Which is understandable. Nobody could anticipate the strength of that fire. But the 911 operators were sitting in an office with no windows, and they had no idea what was going on the east. They couldn’t look out and see exactly what was happening. If they could have, they probably would have told people to leave as soon as possible much sooner than they were told to. Instead, they waited for official confirmation, and when they did start telling people to evacuate, traffic managed to back up in a small town of 25,000 people until many of them were trapped in an unimaginable hellscape.

When people need to evacuate from a disaster, and they stay instead, far too many people - including those in positions of power – just kind of wave their hands and say, “Well, we tried.” No, we didn’t. This country made not trying its watchword, and now we’re at a point where unless you own a car, which is a luxury a lot of people cannot afford in this economy, escaping from disaster is impossible. So you can get in your car or somebody else’s car and go sit on a highway and hope your gas doesn’t run out, since none of the gas stations for 100 miles have any gas to give you, or you can stay in your house and hope you don’t die.

Sometimes, I really wish somebody would make me the head of the department of transportation. I would demand an absurd amount of money to build a better train system, to provide better transportation options for smaller towns, to provide extensive training for rescue personnel in managing evacuations like the clusterfuck in Florida this week. I would become an absolute fucking nuisance to Congress. I would be asking for money left and right to make it so that our only options as Americans weren’t to get into cars we can barely afford these days and attempt to organize our own evacuations from the growing number of natural disasters in this country.

Y’all keep posting these polls about how long you can tolerate being in a car at the same time that tens of thousands of Floridians were sitting on highways trying to get away from Tampa so they wouldn’t die in a hurricane.

We can tolerate being in a car all goddamn day. It’s because we don’t have a fucking choice, even when it’s life or death.

[awakenedevildays]

「bathtubs and requests」 Art Donaldson x F!reader

you can read the other parts here!

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"you should move in with me" Art's voice echoes off the bathroom walls of his apartment, it's all so relaxing: the heat of the water around your bodies, his chest pressed against your back and his arms wrapped around you are so comfortable that it takes a while for you to realize what he just said.

"what?"

"you heard me" he murmurs against your neck "come live with me" an incredulous laugh leaves your mouth and you try to turn completely towards him, but his arms clench tighter around you and prevent you from moving enough to do so.

"may I ask why you are asking this now?" you move slightly to the side to see his face emerging from the hollow of your neck.

"I feel like we're ready to do it" his eyes avoid yours and focus instead on his fingers as they start caressing your shoulder "and it's also the next logical step in our relationship."

"You think so?" this time, despite Art's protests, you turn towards him: your breasts press against the boy's chest and his eyes fall down quickly before being brought back to yours by the hand under his chin. The tease is evident on your face and Art feels his ears warm up quickly to the realization of being caught in the act.

"I know so" and kisses the smile off your lips to distract you.

"My answer is not a no, but how do we know that our relationship is ready for this?" you ask him and, without realizing it, the agitation inside you rises: how did you know if you were ready for this step? and if you break up because you went too fast?

The tennis player frowns "what do you mean?" and the sight in front of you distracts you for a second: Art sits back against the back of the tub to stand more upright and listen to you better, his arms, after moving his curly damp hair out of his face, leans on the edges of the tub, his wet and smooth chest shines and his legs are open and bent to the sides to give you more space between them. If you weren't so determined to finish the topic you are having you'd kiss him to death, but you're a woman on a mission and you can't get distracted.

"I mean, some of my behaviors might irritate you or we might fight about serious things and then we wouldn't be able to run away from our problems by going back to our apartment, we'd have to deal with these situations and be mature about what bothers us and-"

"love, you're getting worked up over nothing" he says and his expression relaxes into a smile: now that he understood that your reasons are motivated only by insecurity and not by the fact that you don't want to take the next step with him, he feels it will be easier to convince you otherwise.

"You see? this is exactly what I'm talking about! if we move in together we can't belittle each other's feelings and concerns like this. It wouldn't be healthy and-"

"love," he interrupts you again, and your hands that were gesturing in the air fall on his chest, your eyes avoid his.

Out of your mouth comes a small "…yes?" that makes the man in front of you chuckle.

"we're ready" his calm tone makes its way into your chest "we're 24 years old and we've been together since we were 19, we both have a steady job and we already know everything about each other, there's nothing you can tell me that will change my mind".

"what if we fight?"

"I can't promise you we won't fight, we fight even now that we don't live together, but it seems to me that we are pretty good at making up, if we fight we will solve it as always" it's true, you never went beyond a day without talking to each other, even if you were angry.

"what if we break up?"

"It won't happen," he answers immediately, his fingers move the locks of hair behind your ears and then rest his hands on your face, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks.

His head lowers to chain your eyes together and you look up to facilitate his task "I won't let it happen", the security in his eyes makes you exhale a breath you didn't know you were holding.

Your eyes move around to look at the bathroom, "but I wouldn't be able to pay half the rent of this apartment"

"I don't care about that".

"but-"

"If you really want to pay something, we can split the bills," he answers hastily, at the moment Art doesn't care about how to split the expenses, he would pay everything if it meant he could spend the rest of his life next to you… he just needs your 'yes'.

Your face gets close to his, your lips a few inches away.

"okay" his eyes still fixed in yours

"'ok' what?" his smile gets brighter, he wants to hear you say it.

"I'll move in with you" you smile too.

"that's what I like to ear" he kisses you again.

Now he only has to ask you to marry him… but that will have to wait a little longer.

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

Hope you guys will like it as much as I liked writing it! 🩷

(in this fic he still has long hair cause I said so)

[aakeysmash]

cw: toxic relationship. sukuna x f!reader. angst. suggestive. no happy ending. unedited because i can't be bothered.

it’s been years since you last heard his name.

it happens randomly. it's cold outside, your breath forming little clouds near your mouth, making you look like a smoker. you're walking inside a cafè after a long day, trying to warm up your hands and face, when, suddenly, you hear it.

a couple just exited from the door you were about to enter in. you don’t know why you stop to look at them, but you do. they're a bit awkward, averting their gazes, and you don't think the cold is the reason why their cheeks are reddening. fingers fidgeting, mouth gaping before closing suddenly.

"i had a really nice day," murmurs the girl. one of her hands is scratching her ear, the other beside her mouth to warm it up. "wanna do it again?"

"i work tomorrow," responds the guy. a wince. a glance to her lips. a subtle half step to get closer to her.

"oh," her face falls. she retreats on herself.

“but we can still see each other,” he rushes out.

a hopeful look. another subtle half step, from her this time. "where do you work?"

"sukuna's corporations, you know, down the street?"

sukuna. your eyes widen. your breath stops. a chill runs down your spine.

the outlines of the couple and of the café blur. suddenly, you're thrown back in time. you see your face in front of you, but you look weird. younger. innocent.

you’re ten. books are all scattered around you, a big red imprint of a hand on your cheek. your mother is high, tumbling over her words and tripping over her feet, screaming at you in the library. everyone is watching, but you don’t shed a tear. you’re so used to this. security comes, just like last week, and the one before that. a boy a little older than you pushes your mother away, offers you a hand to get up from the floor. you notice him: smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, pink hair, black inked bands on his outstretched wrist, probably done by himself without any parental agreement. let’s get you out of here. i’m sukuna.

the scene changes. you’re sixteen. your left ear is bleeding, but a hand reaches out to dab a cotton piece on it. a whisper. an attempt to comfort you from behind you. you try to turn around but you seem to be unable to. it's okay, baby, you look so much hotter like this, i promise. his voice is all around you. condescending, like he always was. more mature than the last scene, almost as if he developed. he’s eighteen, of course he developed.

the scene changes again. you’re outside of a club, he’s coughing blood. he just got out of a fight, you think. you’re crouching to give him a napkin, your hand on his back to reassure him. he grins up at you, red staining his usually pearly white teeth. your breath gets caught again. did his eyes always look so void? i love you, baby, you know that, don’t you? a lie. a smile. a kiss that tastes like iron.

then, the scenes in front of your eyes blur, like a massive sped up version of your last decade.

a cat on the street, you scratching its furry chin, looking up at the man behind you. it reminds me of you when it purrs, sukuna. a bored look. your smile dropping. a fake smirk, his fake kiss on your cheek. you're so cute, i love it. another lie.

his first car, you in the passenger seat, his hand on your thigh, a song playing in the background. i feel like this is our song, baby. a laugh. a kiss. you two fucking in said car, his breath on your ear, your moans in his. never cum like this for anyone else, do you understand? a nod. i love you, sukuna. he doesn't answer.

him moving in with you, buying you flowers every monday, because you told him you love flowers. you're everything, sukuna. tongues swirling. one of his hands grabbing your left boob. i'll always care about you, baby. a bite on your neck. insincere words floating too high for you to see them.

drinking coffee on a snowy morning, him working on his computer, getting snappy when you ask what he's doing for the third time. i'll be big some day. not like you. your gasp. his indifference.

you and him on a jog, him forgetting you’re there, flirting with a girl that passes by. your hurt look. a sorry, whispered on your lips with a flower behind your ear ten minutes later. i only have eyes for you. your faith in him. his averting gaze.

a man groping your ass. his fist colliding with the man's jaw. never touch my fucking girl again. happiness on your face. his arm draped over your shoulder. him massaging your calfs when you get home. you're mine only. forever. don't forget that. his kisses. his possessive hold on your hips when you sink on his cock.

him wiping your tears. him making you cry. him making you laugh about something stupid on his phone. more tears. love letters on your kitchen counter, signed with his name. glasses rimmed with lipstick in the sink, but you don't own that color. messy sheets after you fuck like animals on his birthday. the house empty on yours. his things gone. no texts. no calls. no signs that tell you he's been living inside your house, your head, your heart for 15 years. your fingers frantically pressing his phone number on your keypad for a month straight, going to voicemail. can you come home? did i do something wrong? please, sukuna, i'll be better. i'll never complain about anything ever again. i promise. just come back to me. you're all i want... you're all i have. i'll be whoever you want. whatever you want. please.

your gaze focuses on the café in front of you again. the couple isn't there anymore, and it makes you wonder how much time you spent out here, freezing. it looks like he made it, at the end. you ignore the poster with his company's name near the street you came from.

it happens randomly.

you put your feet one after the other, entering the café.

randomly.

[kislnd]

handsy - chrismd~

synopsis: chris loses all sense of self restraint when he's drunk around y/n. notes: hey... i have returned after a very long while... with the chris fic based on this request from a while ago 🫶 getting back into the flow of writing so apologies if this isn't the best!! warnings: suggestive, alcohol word count: ~1.3k

masterlist

the pub was a haven of warmth amidst the cool autumn night, its windows fogged from the breath of numerous conversations and a slight aroma of alcohol and some sort of fried food clinging to the atmosphere.

y/n could tell chris was already a few drinks in and gradually becoming more and more competitive as he challenged each of his friends to a game of darts. "you still think you can beat me?" he teased to a more sober arthur who just rolled his eyes playfully, his voice louder than usual due to the alcohol loosening his tongue. "don't get too bigheaded, it'll be even more embarrassing when you lose." arthur grinned, standing to his feet to take chris on. y/n couldn't help but crack a smile at arthur's remarks - usually it was chris who would say things of the sort, especially when he was under the influence.

y/n watched intently as arthur went first, despite the fact he also had a couple of drinks he was still quite good - good enough that she wasn't sure if chris could actually beat him. "that might actually be a hard score to beat chris," she grinned at him from where she was sitting. "hey!" chris turned around abruptly to face her, a slight smile on his face, "you're supposed to be my number one supporter!"

"i am, i'm just realistic." y/n shrugged, "for some reason arthur is weirdly good at certain things." at this, arthur piped up, "that didn't feel like a compliment," he smiled, but remained fixed in his position, hyperfocusing on the dartboard to finish up his final few throws as best as he could.

"chris, you're up," arthur pulled his final dart out of the board, satisfied with his score. "i'll wait a second, let you feel good about your performance for a moment before i thrash you." y/n still wasn't convinced chris would be able to pull it off but she stayed quiet, anything could happen, especially if he was this dead set on winning.

the first couple of throws hadn't been too bad but in comparison to arthur's up to that point, they were slightly lower scoring. "you're going to have to really pull it out of the bag here mate," another one of the guys who was invested in the game commented. "don't worry, i know what i'm doing." chris nodded to him, y/n couldn't help but laugh - she wasn't quite sure when he turned into the grand master of darts but this mentality wasn't currently translating into skill. admittedly, she was hoping chris would win, moreso because after everything he had said, it would be a blow to his ego if he lost and painfully embarrassing.

as if by some miracle, chris' final throw was the saving grace of the entire game. arthur's mouth fell open in shock, he had been leading for most of the game and rightly so, had been expecting to come out on top. "i like to lure them into a false sense of security." chris grinned widely at arthur, who still hadn't fully processed how he had managed to bring it back to the point of victory. "yeah, i've no idea how you did that but fair play, well done." arthur shrugged, taking another sip of his beer.

chris finished gathering up the darts, went to order another pint and returned with his drink, situating himself next to y/n. "i never doubted you for a second." she giggled, shuffling a little closer to him. he smiled, resting his hand on her thigh, "whatever you say."

as the night drew on and the drinks continued to flow, y/n noticed chris' hand inching further and further up her thigh, pushing her skirt dangerously high. he was rubbing small circles on her inner thigh absent-mindedly, engulfed in the conversation at the table. every now and again, he would glance at her with clouded eyes that, despite being tired and obviously drunk, were still filled with love, maybe even something more.

y/n mentally confirmed he was in a certain mood as he inched closer to her, dragging her towards him so their sides were pressed together - one arm around her, resting gently on her lower back while the other continued to rub her thigh slowly, almost painfully. if they hadn't been in public, she was certain something more would have happened by now. chris was getting more bold, sliding his hand even further up her leg, earning a gasp from her. "chris!" she hissed, not wanting to draw attention to them, "really?"

despite being a little more than just slightly drunk, chris knew what he was doing, and y/n knew that for a fact. "what?" he smiled a dopey half smile at her, "can't i touch my beautiful girlfriend?" y/n rolled her eyes playfully, she still couldn't believe how cute he was capable of being - especially given the fact that he was generally quite mean when under the influence. she had to admit she couldn't get enough of the way it made her feel extra special, and honestly it did give her a good laugh. the way he would be super loving towards her and in the same breath call some poor victim, usually arthur, a rude name was just comical. "why don't we get this treatment?" arthur prodded chris in the side with a cheeky smile on his face. "last time i checked you weren't my girlfriend?" he snapped back lazily, head flopping onto y/n's shoulder, hand still firmly planted on her leg. "wouldn't want to be either, you're crushing the poor girl!" another one of the guys, one y/n honestly didn't recognise in the moment, added.

at this, another couple of people at the table darted their eyes towards her, noticing the way chris was near enough wrapped around her completely, bar his lower half. she felt the heat rising to her cheeks, she was never the type to do pda, but equally she wasn't entirely opposed to it - just as long as it wasn't something too crazy. "you lot as well?" chris sighed, exasperated at the attention from seemingly everyone other than y/n, "i'd like to enjoy my girlfriend in peace please," he shut his eyes slowly, clearly getting towards the tired stage of being drunk. "we can tell," arthur continued, noting chris' hand placement. y/n assumed that this was his way of getting back at chris - playfully of course - while he wasn't energised enough to argue. "i'll let you have that one, i won the darts," chris didn't bother to open his eyes to reply, he used what energy he had remaining to pull himself closer to y/n, "and i have a sexy girlfriend, so who really won?"

the table erupted into laughter - y/n couldn't tell if this was genuine shock or amusement or a blend of the two. the way chris could be so straightforward when he was drunk and come out with some of the most unexpected things was remarkable, he became almost the polar opposite of his sober self. "right, i think we'd better get home," y/n spoke lowly to chris, who hadn't moved from her seemingly very comfortable shoulder. it was getting late and everyone was visibly tired and / or intoxicated so she figured it was a good idea to slip out of the pub before the masses left.

chris only hummed in agreement, eyes still firmly shut, the few thoughts that were circling his mind were all y/n.

[joicecubes]

hey guess who’s absolutely losing it over the stan twins again (spoiler alert its me)

so i was innocently scrolling tiktok when i was introduced to this DIABOLICAL au idea: firstly, what if ford really had shot stan with his crossbow when stan first showed up at the shack? and secondly, what if ford tried to bring him back to life frankenstein-style? (full credit to tiktok user @44boora for this idea, go check their account for some gut-wrenching art) (also… full post below the cut this got long)

but like i was thinking about this, ford bringing stan back to life specifically, and how dependent the concept is on this specific time in his life. i just feel like any other time and under any other circumstance, ford would have been able to, eventually, accept stan’s death. we see it at the end of weirdmageddon, where ford is ready to accept that the stan they all know and love is gone now that his memory has been erased. he tells mabel as much, and only realizes there’s hope for him when mabel is determined enough to push back against ford’s logic. ford believes very intensely in his own perception of the world. he believes in science. theoretically, he believes death is death, and there’s nothing he can do to change that.

but then, think of ford after he’s been betrayed by bill. this ford is at his absolute lowest. he can’t trust his own perception of the world anymore. he’s seen the truth of what their relationship was and the horrors he was so close to unleashing on their universe. he is desperate to right his wrongs. he’s losing sleep, his body is abused every time he closes his eyes, and the end of the world as he knows it is iminent if he doesn’t succeed in making the portal as secure and unusable as possible without dismantling it entirely. the only person he believes he can trust after everything that’s happened is stan. so he contacts him for help, and in his time waiting for him to arrive, cannot stop thinking of the worst-case scenario: that bill could still be coming for him. so when he opens the door to stan, his high-strung, paranoid brain doesn’t see stan, and he shoots.

he shoots his own brother with a crossbow and kills him.

ford is not usually one to blatantly ignore a scientific fact. again, death is death, and there’s nothing he can do about that. and yet, in a state of such intense grief, when his entire world is already close to crumbling around him and he’s holding his dead brother in his arms, there’s nothing else he can feasibly do but deny. so he does.

he lives in denial of a lot of things. that stan’s death is final, obviously, but also his reasonings for attempting to do the impossible and revive him. ford likes to believe he operates purely on logic, so he tells himself he’s doing this because he has to. without stan, he can’t prevent bill from entering their universe. he’s still the only person ford can trust, so reviving him is another step in his ultimate goal of stopping bill and saving the world. it doesn’t matter that its never been done before, ford will do it anyway. and he believes that he can, because as much as he thinks he’s moved on from his hubris, he’s still acting off the assumption that he’s special. he’s so far ahead of everybody else, so naturally, if anybody could accomplish the impossible and bring stan back from the dead, its ford.

and so he denies that the real reason he’s trying to save stan is not a logical one. he denies that he’s running entirely on emotions. it would be foolish to try something so risky and impossible and time-consuming if he were only doing it because of his crushing guilt and decade-long yearning, so he tells himself there’s so much more to it than that. he can’t just be doing this because he loves him, right? he’s not that shallow. he’s not that desperate.

and yet, he is. because as much as ford wants to deny it, he can’t live without stan. he can’t live with the knowledge that he was responsible for stan’s death. if he didn’t succeed, his grief would surely kill him.

[pshaven]

LITTLE BIT OF AFFECTION 박성훈 ᥫ᭡

pairing sunghoon x fem!reader

synopsis as your manager, sunghoon has to ensure all your needs are met and that you’re performing at your absolute best. but when your ex turns out to be the director of your newest project, you’re not doing your best. it’s his job to guarantee that this never happens again. (ib the manhwa, muse on fame!)

cw smut (mdni), coworkers(??) to lovers, vulnerability, beomgyu hits on reader, heeseung as reader’s ex, jealous!sunghoon, service top!sunghoon, BIG DICK SUNGHOON, sunghoon tells reader to boss him around (spoiler, she doesn’t), no protection (pls don’t do this), creampie, dirty talk, reassurance, cunnilingus, pnv, sunghoon pussy drunk, feelings are not being discussed, (small) aftercare, lmk if there’s anything i missed!!

wc 5.7k+

Sunghoon has one job– making sure that you are doing your job.

At your beck and call, he’s always there for you since you started to blow up in the acting industry. He was assigned to you by your agency, and you don’t have any complaints about him. You’ve heard stories of actors and actresses wanting to constantly change their managers and assistants, but Sunghoon has yet to give you a reason to doubt his skills.

He ensures that you’re on time for everything, which is step one of getting in the good books of movie producers and directors. You’ve only grown more with him by your side, and you feel like if he isn’t there for you, you would’ve gone into bollywood.

And you definitely would not be here, right now, on the red carpet with him standing securely behind you as paparazzi take photos of you. Your eyes squint slightly at the bright flashes, never really getting used to the swarm of camera clicks being shoved in your face even after years of experience.

Sunghoon notices your discomfort, and he speeds up his walk to catch up to your side as he brings his arm in front of your face to shield you from the paparazzi. “That’s enough. Thank you guys for your time,” He says, ever so stoic and cold as he bows stiffly before linking your arm with his, leading you inside the awards venue.

Staying with Sunghoon for so long has its perks. He easily picks up your facial or body expressions, knowing when you’re uncomfortable or satisfied with something. You don’t have to voice a single thing with him, if you really didn’t want to. He already knows everything. He knows what you need, what you want.

You like to think that people are jealous of you. Not because of your skills, your talent, or popularity in the acting industry, but of your Sunghoon. You think you got extremely lucky with him. He’s just your manager, but he’s much more than that.

He likes to cook for you, especially after that one night where you randomly said you enjoyed home cooked meals rather than eating out. He drives you everywhere and would drop whatever he’s doing in a millisecond just to take you to the mall. That being said, he’s also your stylist almost. He has shockingly good taste, knows what material or color you like or dislike. You always go with his picks rather than your actual stylist.

So of course, tonight, you’re wearing what he picked out for you. Which undoubtedly, leads to many other actors and actresses staring and it only makes you more confident about yourself, and the man by your side.

You’re aware of the ongoing rumors, albeit not aired to the public, so it’s only being spread to other actors in the industry. The rumors of you and your manager dating. How absurd, how unprofessional! Sunghoon is here for you and your work, only. It’s his job to make sure his actress is doing well and getting everything she wants, no?

This is why you think people are jealous of your Sunghoon. You like to pretend like you’re parading your beloved manager around other actors and actresses since he’s just so amazing– the manager that everyone can only wish for, and you have him in the palm of your hand.

“Ahem… excuse me?”

You turn your head around, looking past Sunghoon’s broad figure. Beomgyu stands there, shifting his weight from foot to foot nervously as he plays with the rings that adorn his fingers. You silently gasp– Beomgyu is incredibly well known, way more than you are (in your humble opinion).

“Yes? Hello,” You smile politely as Sunghoon steps to the side a bit, looking anywhere but at you and Beomgyu conversing. Not that it makes any difference, he’s going to be listening closely anyway. He doesn’t need to look at your body language to know when you want to get away.

“Sorry to bother. Just wanted to introduce myself, I loved you in ‘I Found You’. I’m Beomgyu,” he introduces himself, extending his hand out to you.

Your smile widens at the compliment as you shake hands with him, “Thanks so much! It was my first romance movie, so it was a bit difficult but I’m glad you enjoyed watching it. I love all your works as well… you didn’t even need to introduce yourself to me.” You laugh a little.

Beomgyu chuckles as well. “Ah, well just in case. Don’t wanna seem like an asshole if I don’t. Plus my movies aren’t really to everyone's taste, I stick to a very specific genre…” he trails off as he begins to ponder in thought, “...but I would be willing to try out a romance movie with you.”

You’re caught off guard, your eyes widening subtly and you’re unsure on how to reply. No doubt he’s attractive, but you’re still in your early years and still rising in the charts. Going on dates is forbidden in your contract for now.

But you have your trusty manager, Sunghoon, who clears his throat before leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Let’s go?” He whispers so closely, you can feel his lips barely touching the shell of your ear. A shiver runs down your spine before you nod softly, taking his arm that he offers to you.

“It was nice to meet you. We have to be going to our seats now,” Sunghoon speaks for you so that you don’t have to directly answer Beomgyu's innuendo. He leads you down the aisle of seats, leaving Beomgyu alone at the top.

“Good morning, Y/n,” Sunghoon greets you as you come out of your bedroom, hair still a mess and eyes barely adjusting to the bright sun. “You have a new project.” He points to the folder on your kitchen island, and you groggily make your way to pick it up.

You flip through it, barely paying attention to much other than the title since all the script words looked jumbled up. You place it back down on the countertop as you sit down across from where Sunghoon stands.

“Interested?” He asks you, placing a plate in front of you that has a (too) healthy looking avocado toast and two strips of bacon. You frown at the plate, but you don’t complain as you take the fork to take a bite of the bacon. Sunghoon chuckles at this before turning around and placing another plate next to your sad avocado toast. You happily grin at the new plate of waffles and strawberries, thanking him profusely.

You take a bite of the waffle before answering him. “Sure, I guess,” You shrug your shoulders, too busy with your delicious breakfast to even take note of the plot, directors, producers, the, you know, important stuff.

“Alright, then eat up. I will be back later, I need to take care of some things. Call me if you need anything, alright?” He grabs his coat and keys, but slows down when he sees you look up at him from your meal.

“Where are you going?”

“To the office. I got called in earlier, but wanted to stop by to make you breakfast before I went,” He informs you with a shrug before giving you a (tiny) reassuring smile, wishing you a goodbye. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

A few weeks have passed, which means that it’s time for you to start production of your new project. You’ve read the script and everything, and it was… very interesting. You’re not the main lead or anything, but you play the second leading role. You’ve never been a fan of love triangles or anything of that sort, but after a good read-through and analysis, the writer seems to make this one more interesting.

So you’re intrigued, flipping through the script once more as Sunghoon drives you to the filming location. He looks over at you for a second, “Already memorized some lines, huh?” He’s half joking– you’ve got some weird knack for memorizing lines and improvising, and it’s one of the reasons why you’re such a sought out actress nowadays. Improvisation makes it more natural and interesting, and you get consumed into your roles very easily which makes it easy for you to improvise on the spot.

You huff out a laugh, closing the folder and setting it aside. “Only like, five.”

Sunghoon pulls up to the filming location– a pretty, wide and open lake. You walk up to the set, Sunghoon following closely behind but you suddenly stop in your tracks. He nearly collides into you if it weren’t for his eyes catching your sudden halt.

“Is everything alright?” He asks, concerns beginning to raise as he follows where your eyes are trained on. He has a bit of trouble trying to follow what you’re looking at, but your eyes begin to squint and your nose also scrunch up slightly. Your signs of discomfort.

He places a comforting hand on the small of your back, and most of the time it does the trick.

But this time, it didn't.

“Y/n? Look at me,” Sunghoon says, voice still even and stern but he’s worried as overthinking thoughts begin to flood into his brain.

Your brows furrow and the corner of your lips curve into a slight frown. You’re still not paying attention to Sunghoon, and he’s not having any of it. He needs to know why you’re like this, and he won’t just wait for you.

He grabs your chin, turning your head away from whatever you were looking at. “You okay?” He asks softly now, after seeing your eyes glossy, like you’re about to cry. Never in his years of being your manager has he seen you like this. You look vulnerable, with your wide and wet eyes looking up at him with your brows knitted together.

He wants to eat you up.

“Director…” You mumble out as your jaw clenches. Now he understands– you’re not sad. You’re angry. And for some reason, you’re angry at the director.

He turns his attention to the director that’s grabbing a cup of coffee from (presumably) his secretary’s hand. For the first time, Sunghoon doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know why you’re so upset and angry at the director. As your manager, he always does background checks on whoever you’re working with. He always makes sure you’re working with well-respected actors, producers, and directors. Did he miss something? Impossible.

One look at you makes him want to take you back home.

But as your manager, it’s his job to ensure that you do yours. And in this case, it is to act.

His eyes harden as he squeezes your shoulder softly. “What’s wrong with the director?”

He’s your manager. You need to tell him the truth if you want him to help you.

“My ex.”

It’s like Sunghoon just got slapped across the face. Of course! He feels like a fucking idiot. It’s his job to know your relationships, even before you got into acting. He needs to know for situations like this, but it’s too late now. You’ve already signed a contract to act in this movie, and there’s no backing out.

He breathes out a hefty sigh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” Sunghoon apologizes, but you shake your head before looking back up at him. And like that, your eyes are dry and your face is stoic. This is what he likes about you. You’re professional– you won’t let ex’s affect your acting, even if it’s just for a moment of weakness.

“It’s okay. You didn’t know,” You mumble. You take a deep breath before walking closer to the set, catching the attention of staff, and the director.

“Y/n?” Heeseung gets up from his director’s seat, going up to you with a perfect, pearly white smile. You feel sick inside as he engulfs you in a warm hug that you sometimes miss whenever you’re alone in your bed at night.

“Hi… Heeseung,” You greet, keeping the hug short and sweet as you pull away and step back, your backside meeting Sunghoon’s chest in solidarity.

“It’s really nice to see you again, after all these years,” He begins the small talk, and you bite your bottom lip to refrain from any peak of weakness showing through. “I’m glad our wish is coming true, now. You remember? You, starring in one of my movies, that I’ll direct.”

You feel Sunghoon stiffening up at Heeseung’s words.

That silly promise. That stupid, insignificant promise that you and Heeseung made when the two of you were still dating. When the two of you were still trying to find the path to become a part of the movie industry. What a waste of time.

Five years ago, you wouldn’t believe that you and Heeseung broke up. There was one point in time where it was just you and him, no one else. You had no one to depend on, he had no one to depend on. The two of you just found one another, and it was comfortable.

Unfortunately, you didn’t see a future with him. Therefore, a lot of crying and begging of please, take me back! Give me another chance! were being said that night.

Sunghoon clears his throat to capture the attention of the both of you. “I think Y/n needs to go get her hair and makeup done, now,” He speaks in his usual monotone voice, except this time there’s no ‘pleased to meet you’, or ‘nice talking to you’ this time.

He leads you away from Heeseung, into your trailer where the stylists begin to work on you.

“Does he make you uncomfortable?” Sunghoon asks as the hair stylist begins to work on your hair, your makeup already done. He knows he doesn’t really have to ask this question, but he wants your verbal answer this time.

“No.”

A white lie, both you and Sunghoon know it, but neither of you acknowledge your fib.

He nods, getting up from his seat on the spare chair beside you. “Do you want me to grab you anything? Coffee, snacks…? I think there’s a bakery nearby or something. I can see if they have your favorite, strawberry croissant?”

What your answer would usually be a yes please!, you shake your head as you purse your lips into a thin line.

“No. Please stay.”

And so he does. He stays with you throughout the entire shoot, not keeping his eye off you. Even during breaks and scene cuts, he’s by your side in a second before Heeseung can even get a word in with you. The day ends slower than you would wish for, but the producer yells that’s a wrap!, and you’re booking it into your designated trailer.

You pack up quickly with the help of Sunghoon before the two of you make your way into his car. But of course, you’re not exactly the luckiest person in the world today it seems like.

“Y/n! Hey, can I talk to you for a second?” Heeseung calls for you, lightly jogging up to catch up to you and Sunghoon.

Sunghoon gives you a look that asks if you want him to make a lame excuse that you have to go and can’t spare any time for Heeseung, but you give your manager a slight smile and a reassuring nod.

You can’t avoid Heeseung forever, especially since you know this project will take at least three months to finish. You should at least get the closure you didn’t get five years ago.

“Hi, Y/n. You’re hard to catch up with,” Heeseung chuckles lightly, rubbing the nape of his neck, a nervous habit of his that you know all too well.

You smile at him, returning a small laugh. “Ah, sorry. Just wanted to go home and take a nice shower, but what’s up?”

“I just wanted to say, um…” Heeseung struggles with his words, biting the inside of his cheek, “I hope we can work well together. Once again, I’m really happy that you're on this project with me. I requested you personally…”

Your smile drops, but you’re quick to pick it back up, but it’s a weak smile. “Thank you, Heeseung. It’s really nice to see you again, after all these years.” You’re quick to dismiss his heartful words.

“Y/n, I’ve, uhm– I really miss you.”

“Y/n. It’s getting late. Are you ready to go?” Once again, Sunghoon is your savior.

You turn your head to Sunghoon by your side, and you nod. “See you on Tuesday, Heeseung,” You bid him farewell, plainfully ignoring his words as you climb into the passenger seat of the car.

Sunghoon shuts the door behind you, turning his attention to Heeseung. He walks up to the latter, and Heeseung subconsciously takes a small step back.

“You shouldn’t say things like that. You’re both here on a project. A job. Keep it professional, for Y/n’s sake, yeah?” Sunghoon icily says, not waiting for Heeseung’s response before he leaves to get into the driver's seat of the car.

He pulls out of the parking lot quickly, and you turn your head to your manager. “What did you say to him? And don’t lie that you didn’t say anything. I saw your mouth moving!”

Sunghoon merely shrugs his shoulders, keeping an arm on the steering wheel and his other on the console. “I told him to keep things professional. I heard what he said.”

You frown, looking away from him and out the window.

“Your acting was not really up to its standard today, Y/n,” Sunghoon tells you informingly, and your frown deepens. You know. You were aware, but to hear him say it makes it hurt your ego even more.

“He’s affecting your acting, isn’t he?” He speaks again, taking your silence as an agreement to his previous statement.

You scoff quietly, but it doesn’t miss Sunghoon’s sharp ears. “You’re asking me, but you’re saying it like it’s a fact,” you mumble, shifting closer to the car door.

Sunghoon frowns at this, a sigh leaving his lips. He doesn’t say anything in return, and the rest of the car ride back to your home is silent.

He pulls up into your driveway, quickly getting out and opening the door to your side. You thank him quietly, hopping out and making your way to your front door. Sunghoon silently follows you inside, locking the door behind him like it’s routine (it is).

“Y/n.”

You stop in your tracks, your shoulders sagging in defeat but you still have a bit of pride within you, not wanting to turn around to meet eyes with your manager.

“It is my job to ensure that you do your job well. And I failed today.”

He says it so matter of factly, it almost makes you want to snort that he takes this manager position so seriously. Perhaps he doesn’t know how much he’s really done to help you in your acting career.

You spin on your heel, turning to look at him. He takes a few steps towards you, and you stay put in the middle of your hallway.

Sunghoon continues. “I failed, and I’m sorry. I will make sure that this doesn’t happen again.”

You raise an eyebrow curiously, tilting your head to the side, “Oh? And how exactly are you going to do that?”

“Taking your mind off that ex of yours.”

He brings you into a kiss, a soft and quick one to see your reaction.

Maybe it’s the loneliness of the past years since you signed into your contract with the agency, or the vulnerability after seeing Heeseung for the first time in five years, but you feel desperate to feel Sunghoon’s lips on yours again.

So you do so, bringing his face down and perhaps it’s the delusions in your head, but Sunghoon feels just as much, if not more, desperate than you as he deepens the kiss more, bringing his hands up to your waist and pulling you in closer.

This is probably the most emotion you’ve seen from him in the three years you’ve worked with him. He’s grabbing at the fabric of your flimsy shirt, trying to pull you impossibly closer to him. He slips his tongue into your mouth, causing you to moan softly as you entangle your fingers with his hair.

He groans back as he pushes you down the hall, into your bedroom. He’s been in your place plenty of times to know your layout like the back of his hand. He breaks the kiss for the two of you to catch your breath, but he barely gives you a chance to do so as he attacks your neck with his lips.

He’s nibbling at your skin, careful to not leave marks since it would only cause rumors to spread around and make it difficult for your makeup artists to cover up. But it’s easier said than done, as his teeth grazes against your collarbone while he slips the sleeves of your shirt down.

You bite your lip in anticipation, waiting and wanting him to just bite and mark you as his, but it never comes. He goes back to your lips, gently laying you down on your bed and helping you take off your shirt.

“Fuck–” Sunghoon hisses, admiring your bare chest since you had decided to discard a bra for today. “So pretty…” He mumbles, sounding dazed out. He attaches his lips to your pert nipples, his tongue circling around the bud that makes you squirm.

“S-sung..” You whimper out, your hand still entangled in the locks of his hair. He merely acknowledges you, a hum coming out from his chest as he moves on to your other nipple. You’re extremely squirmish, mostly because it’s been too long since you’ve gotten laid, but also Sunghoon’s tongue seems to read your body like a kid’s alphabet book.

“Shit,” He groans, now tugging at your pants desperately, his fingers fumbling clumsily with your button and zipper. “Need you naked for me, all for me.”

You bite your inner cheek to suppress your moan at his words, helping him out with taking your pants off. He impatiently throws your panties onto the floor beside the bed, marking his place between your thighs by kissing down your tummy.

If his intentions were to drive you crazy, it’s working.

“Heeseung ever eaten you out?” He asks suddenly, his low-lidded eyes looking up at you like some predator and you’re his prey for tonight. You bite your lip, slowly nodding.

Sunghoon gives you a curt nod in return. “I guarantee you, I’m much better.”

Maybe it’s the jealousy talking and he’s just letting his mouth run without thinking, but he doesn’t have time to overthink when he dives into your cunt and gets a taste of you. He immediately releases a moan, his hot breath on your pussy making you buck your hips up for more.

He has a job to do, and that is to make sure you don’t ever think of Heeseung again. Heeseung should be the least of your worries when you have to focus on your acting! So he makes it a personal mission, switching between swirling his tongue on your clit and prodding at your entrance.

The teasing drives you wild, wanting him to either pay attention to just your clit or your clenching hole. And like he’s reading your mind, he inserts a finger.

“Ah~! H-hoon, wan’ more!” You moan out, your hips beginning to gyrate for more friction from his singular finger. He grants you your wish, slipping another finger into your entrance and you breath out a relieved sigh.

Your taste could have him between your thighs forever, with you practically humping his face with need. Next time, he’s sure to have you sitting on his face, and he’ll drown happily in your juices.

“Fuckkk…” He moans out, his own hips starting to dry hump your sheets to let his neglected cock get some attention. To see his desperation makes you needier, your arousal spilling from your already sloppy cunt.

He notices you clenching around his fingers, and he takes the time to pull away from making out with your pussy. “You turned on? Seeing me like this? Reduced to putty by your hands?” He’s taunting you, you know but it only makes you moan louder.

You nod repeatedly, his fingers speeding up at your answer. “You taste so good, want you to cum on my tongue… can you do that for me? Hm?” He practically whines, going back to devouring your pussy without waiting for an answer.

He was going to make you cum on his mouth, either way. He feels like a starved man, slurping up your juices and arousal that leak out. Your thighs are a mess, a mix of your slick and his own saliva. He pulls his fingers out and his tongue pokes out, a glob of spit landing right on your clit.

You jolt a bit, and Sunghoon is quick to plant his hands on your waist and thigh to keep you from squirming away. “No, no, don’t move away now, baby. Let me taste what you have to give me.”

His thumb rubs at your swollen clit, but your empty hole clenches around nothing with need. Your hips work itself on his fingers, chasing for more and he watches you with awe. “Looks like you’re the one reduced to putty instead of me, now. You’re ‘bout to cum?” He hums, watching your wet cunt shine from your wetness.

You hiccup as his thumb speeds up and his tongue inserts itself into your entrance. You cry out a moan, hands frantically pulling at his hair as you feel the knot in your stomach tighten. He’s moaning into you from your taste, his own hands having your thighs in a death grip to keep you from squirming away.

“S-sungho–” You begin to stutter, the pleasure beginning to overwhelm your body and take over your thoughts. He already knows, as if he’s known your body for centuries. He nods repeatedly as a signal to allow you to cum while tongue fucking you, the motion only sending you into overdrive.

“Fuck! Oh my goddd~ cu-cumming!” You squeal, and he only presses his face further into your pussy as if his life mission was to soak his face in your essence (it just might be). He retracts when he feels you gently pushing him away, the overstimulation too much for you to handle.

“Shit,” He curses, his tongue peeking out to lick at the corners of his lips, “Could eat you all day and night. Need you sitting on my face next time,” He mumbles, staring at your twitching cunt. You breathe heavily, recollecting your thoughts as you begin to slowly sit up, leaning on your elbows.

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow at you, giving you a weird expression. “What? Is something wrong?” You ask, suddenly insecure as you instinctively shrink down a bit onto the bed.

“You think we’re done?”

Your eyes widen a bit, chest still heaving up and down as you catch your breath. “O-oh, I can, uhm… use my mouth on you?”

His thick brows furrow together. “No.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, looking away for a second out of embarrassment. You thought he liked it, did he not? Before you can even begin to overthink, you hear his belt clanking onto the ground, the zipper unzipping reaching your ears. You snap your head back at his lower half, seeing his hard cock out.

He’s softly stroking himself, his hand holding at the base that only makes his tip look even more angry and red. You gape at the sight, unconsciously scooting up against the headboard.

“Why do you keep running from me today?” Sunghoon tsks, frowning a bit as he grabs your lower calves, pulling you down towards him. You yelp quietly, his strength easily spreading your legs apart.

“Is this okay?” He asks, his tip teasing at your clit and spreading your wetness all over. You nod frantically, your hands grabbing at the sheets in anticipation. He’s definitely bigger than Heeseung, and he was already big in your eyes.

Sunghoon groans as he inserts himself inside your warm entrance, his eyes shutting as his lips part. “God, you feel so fucking—“ He hisses as he continues to go deeper, his eyes opening to watch your expression fall apart just from his cock splitting you into half.

“F-fuck, so deep…” You moan out like you’re complaining, but your legs wrap around his lower waist despite your words. You throw your head back into the pillow, feeling overwhelmed from him filling you up as your eyes screw shut.

He buries himself in you, balls deep as he hides his face into your neck. He chuckles breathlessly, the sensation against your neck making you all the more sensitive and ticklish. “S’cute. You want me that bad?” He’s referring to your legs wrapped needily around his waist, trapping him deep in you.

You nod desperately, his body weight on top of you making it impossible to move your hips against him. He smiles down at you, but his smile isn’t one of tenderness— it’s mischievous, how the corner of his lips curve slightly more upwards.

”You’re the boss of me. Tell me what to do,” He whispers into the nape of your neck, lips pressing wet kisses down your shoulder. You whine, now shaking your head as your mouth parts to speak, but nothing comes out.

Sunghoon’s smirk is now more obvious, enjoying the sight of you going dumb just by cockwarming him. “What? What’s wrong? You’re a smart girl, no? You know what you want. So say it.”

You lick your dry lips, taking a moment to think what he wants to hear. “Want.. want you to make me forget. Make me yours…” You trail off, beginning to get shy but Sunghoon proves you otherwise when a low growl rumbles in his chest.

He grabs your legs from behind him, pushing your thighs down to your chest. You gasp in surprise, his strength making you dizzy as he forces your legs down while his hips begin to thrust into you.

“Finally,” He groans out, hips easily picking up pace, “took you long enough. I was really debating on flipping you over and just make you take it… but this is much better,” he rambles, eyes focusing on where you’re taking him, his cock shining with your juices each time he pulls out.

“Sh-shut up… fast-er!” You cry out, voice breaking when his thrusts become harder, the force of his hips hitting your ass making you moan louder.

“Telling me to shut up now? You’re beginning to act real bossy…” He mutters underneath his breath but does as you ask, lifting his body weight off of you to thrust faster.

Your eyes begin to roll back, your grip on the sheets releasing and immediately flying to his back, your pretty manicured nails digging crescents into his shoulders. He’s panting above you, hair sticking to his forehead as he watches you only get louder.

He lets a whimper escape his lips from your nails scratching at his back, leaning down close to you again. He nudges at your lips, but you’re too lost to comprehend that he wants a kiss as your mouth is left open from moaning and gasping.

Both of your bodies rock back and forth on your bed, the sheets barely hanging from the edge as he presses his lips to yours, muffling your desperate whines. You can’t keep up with his desperate kisses, letting him take control of your entire body and mind.

“You’re close,” He points out, noticing the way your pussy pulsates around his thick cock, each drag of him inside of you pushing you closer to the edge. You nod, your nails scratching up into the nape of his neck as you pull him down for another kiss.

It’s nasty and messy, and it only makes you whine desperately into his mouth as you cum on his cock. You throw your head back, but Sunghoon chases your lips like he’s chasing his own orgasm, his pounding only making you overly sensitive.

You feel him pull out all the way, planning to cum elsewhere but your whines of protest stops him. “Wh—no, no! Inside, please..” you bite the inside of your cheek, and he can never say no when you look absolutely delirious for his cock and cum inside you, chest heaving up and down with fucked out eyes.

He curses underneath his breath, quickly inserting himself back inside you. “Shit.. you’re so hot,” he mumbles, brows knitting together as he picks up his speed again to reach his orgasm. He buries his face back into your neck, his moans so close to your ear that it makes your cunt squeeze around him, arousal still pooling in your lower half.

You scratch at his scalp, his moans becoming louder as he approaches his climax, your cunt gushing around him and the wet squelches letting his hot cum coat your insides. You feel so disgustingly satisfied, moaning along with him as he pants into your shoulder.

The two of you stay like that in silence, catching your breaths, but Sunghoon is quick to recover as he lifts himself off of you. Your eyes are droopy, mind clouding with sleep, sleep, sleep. He smiles softly at you, watching you eventually fall into slumber.

He gets dressed, making his way into your bathroom and grabbing a towel to lay down between your legs so that his cum doesn’t make a mess of your sheets (like he doesn’t need to wash it later for you anyway). He cleans you up slowly, carefully maneuvering your limbs to not wake you up.

He puts your blanket over your naked body and he brushes the hair out of your face, his touch lingers for a second before leaving and getting into his car. He sighs when he gets into the driver's seat, closing his eyes as he mentally reprimands himself.

It’s his job to keep you in check. He’s getting paid to ensure that you act well and to not get distracted when working. But now, it seems like he’s the one getting distracted.

[yanyandam]

hii! its me again. I’ve had this idea in my head for a while after I red you post about Bonten guys with a pregnant partner and was wondering if you could write a scenario about it. What if they became parents young, like in their 20s? was thinking about dadRindou, and uncleRan that always spoils his niece to get Rindou mad. its just makes me laugh idk why. or Kakucho, he would be such a cutie! a loving and bellissimo dad 😫.

anyway, could u write about that please? ill give u some cookies.. ♡

Thanks for the cookies, ts gave me inspo to post twice in a day lmao! Here, since they are young I consider that we're at the genesis of Bonten, end of KMG! Hope you like it

BONTEN AS YOUNG FATHERS: HOW DO THEY HANDLE IT?

It probably, if not obviously, wasn’t voluntary for Manjiro. He wasn’t the type to plan a family, even worse with his mental state. He stays, at least for a while, but not in the way a normal father would. He’s conflicted and deep down terrified. When you told him you were pregnant, he didn’t react at first. He just sat there, cigarette balanced between his fingers, eyes dark and unreadable. The silence stretched long enough that you thought he hadn’t heard you. Then, he let out a slow exhale. "I see."

That was it. No anger, no questions. Just that flat response, as if you’d just told him it might rain tomorrow. But you saw it: he was trying to process a feeling he wasn’t ready for. He stayed, at first. Not because he thought he’d be a good father, but because he couldn’t just leave you to handle it alone. He made sure you had everything, money, security, a place to live where no one could touch you. But as the months passed, his visits became more infrequent. When the baby was born, he held them exactly once. His hands cradled the tiny, fragile body, and for a brief moment, something flickered in his expression. Something like dread.

He never got angry. Never acted resentful. But he also never truly let himself get close. He knew he was unstable, violent, cursed. He refused to let that darkness stain the child’s life.Sanzu had ordered you to stay away, you and that child, you who made Mikey almost weak.

Kakucho stepped in instead for some time. He visited often, brought gifts, asked about school. He wasn’t overly affectionate, but he was present, out of pity perhaps. He disappeared too, after some time. Mikey watched from afar. Always making sure you were safe. Always making sure his child had everything they needed. But he never let himself be called “father.” Eventually, he disappeared completely soon after Bonten’s biggering. Not because he didn’t care, but because he believed it was the only way to protect the child from himself.

Before starting, just so you know: hell no. It wasn’t voluntary for Sanzu. He stays (kinda) but the kid isn’t his priority. At first, he laughs it off. He doesn’t see himself as the “dad” type.  "You serious? Shit, that’s funny." It wasn’t that he hated kids. He just didn’t think of himself as the fathering type. His whole world revolved around the King, killing for him, cleaning up his messes, staying utterly, mindlessly loyal. So the idea of being responsible for a baby? It felt ridiculous. He didn’t leave, but he wasn’t really “there” either. The most he did was throw money at the situation, expensive strollers, private hospitals, a nanny that cost more than most people’s salaries. He wasn’t heartless, but he had no idea how to be soft. Because no one had ever been soft to him before.

But sometimes, he’d linger in doorways, watching the kid with a strange, unreadable look. He never played with them, never spoke much, but if you were struggling, he’d suddenly drop an obscene amount of cash on anything you needed.

Wasn’t voluntary for Kakucho either but he does take full responsibility. He stays, and he’s a good devoted father. Unlike the others, he steps up immediately. He wasn’t planning on having a child, but now that it’s happening, he refuses to be absent. The others in the gang tease him about it, but deep down, there’s respect. They see how serious he is, how he never complains about it. Some of them start calling him "papa" as a joke, but when they see how much effort he puts in, they stop laughing. Even as the gang grows darker, bloodier, crueler, he stays. He keeps his child and their mother away from it all, doing his best to shield them. But the guilt never leaves. The fear that one day, someone will use his family against him eats at him constantly.

One night, when the baby was sleeping on his chest, Kakucho let out a rare, quiet sigh and whispered: "Maybe… maybe you won’t turn out like me." (Bonus: I feel like Ran would take the uncle role)

Apparently it wasn’t voluntary for Kokonoi, but when you saw him unimpressed you started to have doubts. He stays, in his own way. His first reaction? Annoyance. Not because he doesn’t want the kid, but because it’s an inconvenience to his ambitions. At first, he keeps his distance, throwing money at the problem. He makes sure the mother and child want for nothing: best doctors, best schools, best life. But is he there? Not really. Still, he keeps watch. He might not act like a loving father, but if anyone even thinks about messing with his kid, they disappear. No questions asked. He never lets his child fully in, but he’ll die before he lets anyone hurt them.

When the baby was born, he didn’t rush to hold them. Instead, he stood at the edge of the hospital room, arms crossed, analyzing the situation. And then, when you finally placed the newborn in his arms, something cracked in his cold exterior. It wasn’t love at first sight. But it was responsibility. A realization that this was his blood, his legacy. As the child grew, he was a strict but protective father. Private tutors. No public schools. Everything was carefully managed. He rarely showed affection, but if anyone insulted his child, they disappeared.

Wasn’t voluntary for Mochi either, but saying he never wanted a family would be a lie. Does he stay? Absolutely. He feels like the child keeps him sane.

Oh. froze when you told him. "Wait, wait—I'm gonna be a dad?" His face went pale. He rubbed his forehead. "Oh shit. Ohhh shit." It wasn’t that he didn’t want the baby. It was that he didn’t trust himself. But unlike the others, he didn't try to distance himself. He was there for every step. The ultrasounds, the cravings, the panic attacks at 3 AM. He wasn’t the strongest or the smartest, but he cared. When the baby was born, he was the first one crying. Holding that tiny, fragile body against his chest, he whispered, "I’m gonna do my best. I swear." He spoiled the kid rotten. He was the type of dad to buy them candy before dinner, to let them stay up past bedtime, to sneak them out for fun little adventures. Kakucho (aka everyone’s favorite uncle atp) took a liking to the kid. "If they grow up weak, it’s on you," Kokonoi muttered once, watching the kid cling to their father’s arm. But he still bought them presents. Still watched out for them.

Oh oh. Ran. Not voluntary either, but he didn’t think it was a big deal. I still believe in the Girl Dad! Ran legacy, no really can YOU imagine this guy with a son? This was different for him. He'd raised his brother. He already knew how to be responsible for someone else. So when you told him? He didn’t panic. Didn’t hesitate. He just exhaled, rolled his shoulders, and smirked. "Alright, then. Guess I’m a dad now." (nonchalant ahh) And when the baby was born, a little girl, he was wrapped around her tiny, chubby fingers instantly.  She was his princess. Everything she wanted, she got. The best clothes, the best toys, the best of everything. He made sure no one ever looked at her the wrong way. His club’s security knew her name, his men knew to respect her like royalty. But he wasn’t just a spoiling father.

He was strict, protective, and intensely involved. He taught her how to stand tall, how to own a room. How to glare at men like she was the fucking queen of the world. And his younger brother? He was her only and favorite uncle, and wouldn't trade him for anything. They argued, fought, teased each other but Rindou would die for his niece. And one night, when the little girl was asleep on his chest, Ran whispered, "No one’s ever gonna touch you. You’ll never have to go through what I did. I promise."

Voluntary or not, Rindou loves his child. He stays, even when Bonten grows. He lowkey feels trapped, yet devoted. He wasn’t ready to be a father, but when the baby is born, something softens in him.

Even when he’s deep in the underworld, he makes sure his child never sees it. He won’t let them become like him. He didn’t take it well at first. He was young, arrogant, still living fast and reckless. "This wasn’t supposed to happen," he muttered, rubbing his face. "You know what kind of life I have." He didn’t want this. Yeah. At first, he felt trapped. Like this wasn’t how his life was supposed to go. "This is a mistake," he muttered when you told him. "I’m not meant to be a dad." 

But his older brother didn’t let him run. "You don’t get to fuck up a kid’s life just because you’re scared."

And so, he stayed. At first, he was distant. He did the bare minimum, money, security, checking in once in a while. But then, the kid smiled at him. Called him "Dad" for the first time. And suddenly, he couldn’t breathe. From then on, he was involved. Rough around the edges, still emotionally distant, but he tried. His older brother was his biggest support. Kept him grounded. Helped him become a father instead of just some guy who had a kid.And one night, when the child was asleep, he sat on the couch, staring at them for a long time before murmuring: "…Guess you got stuck with me, huh?" He wasn’t perfect. But he never left.

[petersteeleslut]

id share my power with you forever

-kai anderson x female reader

CW: Smut 18+, slapping, choking, toxic relationship, rough, p n v, abuse? body marking, jealousy. kai being kai. mentions of murder, gun. exhibition. . !!Loving kai!!

Summary: Kai had been getting closer to his members but you noticed one girl in particular. She always touched kai and flaunted herself in front of him for you to see until you finally had enough as he wasn’t stopping it. He shows you just how much he really loves you♥️(other woman is h/n)

“It’s time for a revolution, a revolution i want you all to be a part of. i’ll give you purpose” Kai said as he walked around the room, looking at all of us sitting down. He’d talked to you about the type of people he wanted, the power he wanted and such yet it surprised you every time he talked. “Real power is having people loyal enough to you that, if you ask them to, they will kill themselves. they will override their natural survival instinct in service for your needs and will.” He turns to a girl sitting infront and looks down at her, seeing her admiration as easy target. “I’ll give you.. give you all something to be a part of. someone to serve for the best”

It was all for a cause right? you shouldn’t be jealous, he’s just doing his job. You remembered when you were that girl, the innocent girl he longed for that opened his cold heart. But he loved you you just need to be secure in that, and you were until she did everything possible to have him. She wasn’t even threatened or cared to do it infront of you and it drove you crazy.

“Hey h/n I need to talk to you, meet me in my room when you’re done with that will you?” being the leaders girlfriend came the perk of the members listening to you as well, you were going to put an end to her one way or another. Finally she walks in, but of course wearing the shortest shorts known to man kind and skimpiest shirt. “Lock the door please and sit down” You pulled out a chair for her as you stayed standing up. “So I see what you keep doing, wearing these clothes infront of MY boyfriend. What are you looking to get?”

“What do you think? I obviously want him, i could easily take him for you” She said and looked up at you with teasing eyes and a laugh.

“Oh? you really think so?” Your hand goes up to her neck choking and pushing it back. “Id love to see you actually try, because all you’ve done is dress like a whore and it’s done nothing” Reaching into your back pocket you pull out a gun Kai had given you for protection and put it right up to her head. “But try it, try it and i’ll fucking kill you. After all I am Kai’s girlfriend, I know a thing or two” Suddenly you hear the door open, turning around you see Kai shirtless with his beautiful blue hair half up in a bun.

“What the fuck is happening here?” He questioned as he walked closer and sees who’s in the chair.

“Just telling this stupid whore she should stop trying to take you from me… or i’ll kill her” You whisper into her ear and feel kai’s hand around your waist making a smile appear on your lips.

“Pfft, her attempts have be pathetic but i’ll tell you something” He turns its body to you while you still have the gun pointed to her head “You can kill her, or I can show you how much I ONLY love you” His head leans down and in to kiss you.

“Get the fuck out of here, try again and i’ll kill you for real” You look at her and point to the door but kai has other plans.

“No no let her stay, let her see how much i love you. Make her watch what she’ll never have” He gave you a smirk before locking the door with a key this time. “And you sit the fuck down, don’t talk” Letting you go he leaned down to her face level. “All you ever were was a easy target to serve me, if you thought anything else than you really are a stupid whore” he practically spit his words at her.

You put your gun down on your drawer and got down on your knees infront of kai, his fingers ran through your hair as he looked down at you. “What a pretty girl you are” You really were the prettiest girl he had ever seen, always especially pretty when you looked up at him on your knees ready to serve him. Reaching your hands up you undo his jeans and bring them down, seeing his hard cock in his underwear you bit your lip and slowly jerked him off as he pulled them down. Holding his cock in your hands you slid it on your lips before kissing his tip and taking him into your mouth fully. “Fuck, you’d never be able to take this cock like her”.

You looked over at her as he ran his hands to the back of your head and fucked your mouth, the groans coming out of his mouth was the cherry on top, It felt like electricity through your body. Once he was close he pulled out of your mouth and pulled you up by the back of your head, he placed a kiss on your lips before turning you around and slapping your ass. Slowly he pulled your pants off along with your panties, you took your shirt off and threw it to the side. “Look at these fucking ass and tits, you think you can compete with my pretty little slut?” Her face ran red when he showed you off. “I asked you a question bitch” He walked over to her and slapped her across the face before she answered.

“No- no i can’t compete with her”

“That’s fucking right” he says before laying you down on the bed, kissing down your body and licking a stripe up your pussy. “This cunt is all I need” He lays a kiss on your clit and spits on your already wet pussy, suddenly he flips you on all fours and holds onto your hips as he pulls you onto his cock.

“Fuck, kai you feel so good” you moan out while he pounds your pussy from the back, reaching down he lifts your upper body towards him holding you up by your neck. He lays kisses on your neck still thrusting into you. You turn your head around leading into a passionate kiss between you two, his groans going into your lips making you throb around his cock.

“Show her how good you ride me” He whispers into your ear as he lays down. You straddle him in reverse cowgirl so you can look at her face while you do so, kai leads his cock to your entrance as you slide down. “Tell her how good this divine cock feels in you, show her it’s all yours”

Holding in your moans you look at her while still going up and down on him. “His divine fucking cock feels so good in my pussy, and it’s all fucking mine” Kai held onto your ass and gave you a slap showing how proud he was. His cock hit the perfect spot in you every time you went down.

“Don’t hold back your moans, show that bitch the pleasure i’ll never give her” And just like that you let go, moans coming out of your mouth and filling the room along with the sounds of your ass hitting his hips with each move you made. “Yeah just like that, so fucking hot for me” His hands holding onto your hips so hard you felt the bruises forming.

“Divine ruler I need to cum, im so close please” He lifted you off his cock and put you on your back

“Not just yet, you’re cumming with me” Sliding his cock back into your wet cunt. Your orgasm building up again with his hand cupping your breast as he leaned down kissing and sucking on your breasts leaving hickeys and marks all over you. Your head rolled back in pleasure feeling his hands all over your and his cock thrusting deep into you.

“God I love you and your cock my divine ruler” You moaned out before his hand reached your chin pulling your head to look at him.

“Yeah baby? look at me while I fuck you and this perfect wet little cunt” His hands squeezed your cheeks causing your mouth to open as he spit down your throat. You swallowed immediately looking into his eyes with a slutty smile on your face. “I fucking love you ” Your legs shook around him as your orgasm came close to you again, you felt his thrusts get harder as he groaned into your ear. “I’m gonna cum inside this cunt while that stupid bitch watches, you ready to cum with me my little lamb?”

“Fuck yes, give my cunt your seed my God” He held your hands at your side as he let out his final thrust pushing you over the edge screaming his name while you came all over his cock, milking his cum into your desperate pussy. It was all unreal, he gave you unreal pleasure. You leaned up and pulled him into a kiss while he was still inside of you he pulled you up to sit.

“Let’s go finish her off” He whispered into your ear as you stood up with him and walked towards her with his cum dripping down your pussy.

“Oh look at how flustered you look, you dumb bitch you’ll never have him, I hope you were able to learn that. I don’t want to have to lose a bullet on you.” You laughed and held kai’s hand.

“I wouldnt even pitty fuck you, keep that shit up and i’ll kill you myself” He pulls her hair back as she screeches in pain from his force. “What you just saw, that’s how I fuck the woman I love”

“Get out of my face and go do something useful with yourself” Right as she stood up you pulled her down on her knees, humiliating her once again. “Actually, thank him for letting you watch. He was being nice don’t you think?”

“yes, yes thank you divine ruler for letting me see how- how much you only love her” She stuttered out making a laugh come out of both of you.

“What a pathetic bitch. All you do here is obey me and y/n and that’s it, don’t walk around like a slut trying to get me to pitty fuck you. Seriously get out now.” She walks out leaving you and kai alone, picking you up with your legs around him he kisses you.

“You’re the only one I want, i’d share my power with you forever”.

You look at him with confusion, you he loved having power and even deep inside you “knew” you were only a special follower to him. “I thought today had shown you i want us to be two, in this together. I want you to be the divine queen to these people, alongside me”

“Of course i will kai, you won’t regret this. I know how much trust you’re putting in me and i’ll never get out of my place, you’re still the divine ruler, i don’t mind ruling these people beside you but never above you” You lean in and leave kisses down his neck, all of what you thought before was wrong. He was genuine, you were different to him and opened a different side of him.

“You know it was hot to see you take charge of someone in the group, And you were right. Being with me has taught you a few things, i bet you even got a rush out of putting her in her place.”. You felt your heartbeat get faster as these words came out of his mouth, slowly he laid you down and laid beside you as you thought about everything. Kai changed you, made you realize the deepest parts of yourself and being entirely true to who you really are and desire.

“I did, I feel like i’ve been chasing a high like that. The only other time i feel it is when you take control and ruin me while loving me” You turned your body over and cupped his face with your hand, you were never a religious person but seeing him made you question that maybe God was real and took form in him. “But i have been craving something more…”

“Tell me” His hands wrapped around your waist to pull you closer to him leaving your head on his chest. Before you answered you lifted your hand up to his rising and falling chest, his heartbeat not only gave him life but it did to you too.

“I’d kill for you and i know you’d kill for me. I’ve been in the group while you kill people with other members, I always see how your face changes as if something takes over you and you feel truly alive. I want that with you, I want that high with you.” His eyes almost lit up with your response, as if he has been waiting for this very moment.

“I knew you were fucking perfect for me” A almost sadistic smile spread on his face as he picked you up and placed you in his lap, immediately your lips crash together like they had many times before except this time there was a hunger for more and you knew you’d get that certain high soon enough. Everything felt as if it went into place, you knew how kai truly felt abiut you, you knew you weren’t just another member and you knew you had changed him somehow. Kai was still kai, but with love, love for you and only you forever.

part 2?

thank you all for reading, this was kinda quick and i’m thinking about writing a different version of this where they actually kill the other girl, or just a part two to this. not sure if you’ll like that so if you’re interested pls comment it lolll. all likes and reposts are so appreciated and make my day. i’m trying to grow my account and such but i’ve just started writing and i’m not sure what to do to grow it but thank you for your support ♥️- rain

[novascharms]

teach please me — tutor!reader x soccer player!rafe

reader's life is meticulously planned, from high school to becoming president of the country—she knows exactly where she's headed and every step to get there. but her airtight plan hits a snag when the principal ropes her into tutoring rafe cameron, the school’s star soccer player, who’s failing algebra and at risk of being benched next season. the team needs him on the field, and reader needs the principal’s glowing recommendation to secure her spot at her dream school. balancing her ambitious goals with rafe’s chaotic charm might just throw her perfectly crafted plan off track.

word count — 2.0 chapter index — prev. chap. -  next chap. masterlist

seventeen sunday, february 23rd

"n-no, i d-don't know how it h-happened," you stammer between sobs, tears streaming down your cheeks like a relentless downpour, the streaks hot and unyielding against your skin. for the past ten minutes, they'd fallen nonstop, blurring your vision as you sat cross-legged on your bed, your laptop perched on your thighs. hazel’s face filled the screen, her soft, concerned expression a stark contrast to your crumbling composure.

"we’ll email him—no, we’ll go to him. we’ll talk to him and figure this out. it has to be a misunderstanding," hazel insists, her voice firm but laced with care. she always has that resolve, that unwavering determination that usually lifts your spirits. but this time, no amount of her optimism seems to reach you.

you stare at the screen, at the damning grade glaring back at you from your latest ap physics test on thermodynamics. it feels like the numbers are mocking you, each digit searing itself into your brain. you knew you’d been shaky on the topic, fumbling over concepts and equations in class, but you hadn’t expected this. it’s the worst grade you’ve ever received, and the voice in your head—the cruel, unrelenting one—begins its assault. failure. waste of space. people go to war, and you can’t even handle a high school physics test? really?

the thought slices through you, and more tears spill over, unstoppable, as you bury your face in your trembling hands. "i did all the extra credit—everything. and this is still the best i can do," you choke out, your voice muffled but desperate, the words breaking into gasps. the tissue box sits beside you, but it might as well be miles away. what was the point? it wasn’t like you’d stop crying anytime soon.

hazel leans closer to her camera, her brows furrowed as if sheer willpower could cross the digital divide and pull you out of this pit. "okay, but there’s still the end-of-year finals. we’re gonna make sure you ace those, okay? you’ll pick this up, i know you can."

"i’d have to get more than a 95 to bring me back up," you whimper, your voice trembling like a fragile thread threatening to snap. "and physics… it’s not my strongest class. i don’t think i can do it." your throat tightens painfully, your breath catching as another sob shakes through you. your eyes sting, raw from the endless stream of tears, and the hopelessness pressing down on you feels as though it might consume you whole.

your door swings open without warning, the creak of the hinges snapping you out of your spiral for a brief moment. your head shoots up to see rafe stepping inside. his movements halt mid-step as his eyes take in the scene before him—your tear-streaked face, red-rimmed eyes, and trembling frame hunched over your laptop. concern floods his expression instantly.

"hey, hey," he says softly, crossing the room with quick strides. "what happened?"

his voice, warm and familiar, triggers something deep inside you, and the dam bursts all over again. your bottom lip quivers uncontrollably, and before you can stop it, you're sobbing like a heartbroken child. "i’m a failure," you manage to choke out, the words garbled through the hitching of your breath and the sting of fresh tears.

"rafe, can you please tell her she is not a failure," hazel’s voice cuts sharply through the speaker of your laptop. she sounds insistent but exasperated, her words carrying the weight of someone who’s been trying to convince you otherwise for far too long.

rafe is by your side in an instant, dropping to the bed next to you, his hands already reaching for you. "you are not a failure," he says firmly, his hazel eyes locking onto yours, a mixture of worry and tenderness in their depths. "come here. what happened?" his arms wrap around you, pulling you tightly against his chest. you can’t bring yourself to explain; you don’t want to explain. all you want is to stay right here, buried in his embrace, hidden from the shame eating you alive.

"she—"

"don’t tell him!" you cut hazel off abruptly, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. the thought of hearing her recount it aloud makes your stomach churn. once the words leave this safe little bubble, the weight of their reality would only crush you further.

rafe presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, the gesture so tender it momentarily dulls the ache in your chest. "you don’t have to tell me," he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. "is there anything i can do to make it better? anything you need?" his hand glides along your back in slow, comforting strokes, and you melt into him, pressing your face deeper into his chest like you could disappear entirely.

"a gun," you mutter through your tears.

"y/n!" hazel’s scolding voice carries through the laptop, though you can hear the faint amusement laced in her tone. even so, you were at least ninety-nine percent serious.

rafe’s soft laugh rumbles in his chest as he presses another kiss into your hair. "did you get a bad grade?" he guesses quietly, and the simple question, said so gently, sends a fresh wave of tears spilling from your eyes. you nod against him, unable to meet his gaze as the shame washes over you again.

"i’m a failure," you whisper again, the words shaking as they leave your lips. the sobs rack your body, and rafe carefully pulls you back, gently lifting your chin so you’re face-to-face. his eyes search yours, unwavering.

"look at me," he says softly but firmly. you sniffle, hesitant, but you do. his hands cup your damp cheeks, his thumbs brushing away your tears as he leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. "you are not a failure," he whispers, his voice steady, grounding.

you shake your head weakly, denying his words, but he doesn’t let you. "no," he says again, more resolute this time. "you are not a failure. one bad grade doesn’t define you—you hear me? it doesn’t even come close to defining you." his words are calm but unyielding, and they break through the haze of despair, just barely.

"you’re the smartest girl in every room," he continues, his voice a quiet, steady rhythm that grounds you as you try to catch your breath. "you work harder than anyone i know, and you’re carrying so much on your shoulders—more than anyone should. it’s okay to stumble. it’s okay not to be perfect all the time. a bad grade doesn’t erase everything you’ve accomplished. it doesn’t make you less worthy or capable. i’m proud of you. you know that, right?"

you nod slowly, his words a balm to the ache in your chest. he wipes away the last of your tears with the pads of his thumbs, his gaze never leaving yours. "you’re going to crush those finals, okay? you’ve got this. no one is more capable than you." he pulls you back into his arms, this time tucking your head into the crook of his neck, his warmth cocooning you like a safe harbor.

his lips brush against your ear as he whispers, "in a couple of years, no one’s going to care about a physics class because they’ll all be too busy calling you madam president."

the words catch you off guard, pulling a soft, broken laugh from your lips. the corners of your mouth twitch into a faint smile, the first one of the day, and though it’s small, it feels like a victory.

"y/n, i’m gonna let you go, okay? i’ll see you tomorrow at school," hazel says softly, her voice cutting through the haze of your emotions. you shift slightly, easing out of rafe’s arms as you glance at the screen. if she hadn’t figured out your secret before, she definitely knew now. but as her smile brightens and she offers a playful thumbs-up, you realize you’re okay with it. more than okay. her approval is written all over her face, warm and reassuring.

"okay, i love you," you whisper, giving her a small wave. hazel shoots you one last encouraging grin before disconnecting the call, leaving the screen dark.

"she’s the one who told you not to get close to me, huh?" rafe’s voice is calm, but there’s a quiet weight behind it that makes you freeze mid-step. you turn back to him slowly, your eyes meeting his, and press your lips together before giving a hesitant nod. "how’d you know?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

his lips press into a thin line as he exhales, his gaze briefly dropping before finding yours again. "just the way she looked at me just then… like i was a ticking time bomb," he murmurs, shrugging lightly. "she doesn’t trust me. it’s written all over her face. i just… pieced it together." the casualness in his tone doesn’t quite mask the hurt flickering in his eyes.

your heart aches at the sight of him, so open and vulnerable in a way few ever get to see. you offer him a soft, apologetic smile, one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. "she means well, but don’t worry," you whisper, stepping closer and brushing a tender kiss to the tip of his nose. the way his eyes soften at the gesture makes your chest tighten.

"i think i’ve let myself be a little too influenced by what other people tell me about you," you admit, your fingers curling gently into the fabric of his shirt. "or how they see you. but that’s on me." you pause, drawing in a steadying breath before continuing, "i know you. i know your heart, your intentions. hazel trusts me—she always has. and she’ll trust me on this too. don’t worry."

his gaze locks onto yours, brimming with that quiet, unshakable hope that always makes your pulse quicken. you can feel the gratitude in the way he looks at you, in the slight curve of his lips as his expression softens. leaning in, his lips brush against yours, feather-light and reverent, a kiss that feels like a promise. "i wasn’t worried," he murmurs, his voice so soft it’s almost drowned out by the thrum of your heartbeat.

the corners of his lips tug upward, playful yet soft. "wanna watch the summer i turned pretty?" he asks casually, but the way his gaze lingers tells you it’s more than just an offer—it’s his way of saying i’m here. your heart squeezes, and you think you finally understand what people mean when they say that to be loved is to be truly known.

"i’m supposed to tutor you," you whisper, your voice still uneven from crying, though quieter now.

he shrugs like it’s nothing, already tugging your laptop closer and pulling up the prime video app. "you’ll tutor me tomorrow," he says easily, his tone light and coaxing. with practiced ease, he shifts the two of you around on the bed, adjusting until you’re both nestled together. the blanket rustles as he pulls it over your legs and tucks it around your waist, a cocoon of warmth. "besides, we left off at that episode where jeremiah and belly kissed, and i refuse to keep living in a world where conrad has to suffer like that without seeing what happens next."

you can’t help it—the giggle bubbles out of you before you can stop it. you settle your head against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath your cheek. "he deserves better," you murmur, your voice soft and drowsy as the episode starts playing on the screen.

as the story unfolds, the room fills with the familiar glow of the laptop and the low hum of dialogue. rafe’s hand trails absentmindedly along your arm, his fingers tracing gentle patterns that ease away the rest of the tension clinging to you. by the time the credits roll, your eyelids are heavy, and exhaustion begins to claim you.

you barely register the feel of the blanket being drawn up higher, tucking snugly around your shoulders. the press of a gentle kiss to your forehead lingers for a moment. his scent, the warmth of his presence, and the rhythmic beat of his heart lull you further into the haze of sleep until the world fades away entirely.

chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap.

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[overstimulate-me]

i wake up wearing a paper hospital gown and strapped down to a medical bed with my feet in stirrups. i’m disoriented, so it isn’t until i try to thrash around and get free that i notice there’s an IV in my arm and a catheter between my legs. alerted by my movement, a nurse comes over to check on me.

“i’m glad you’re awake, how are you feeling?” he says.

“i’m fine, what am i doing here?”

“you don’t remember? that’s not good. i’m going to take care of you, then i’ll get the doctor for you. he’ll be able to answer more of your questions.”

the nurse takes the catheter out, and i feel a relief from a pain i hadn’t fully processed. as soon as it’s out, though, he pushes another one in—one that’s a size up.

“hey, what are you doing?” i ask indignantly.

he smiles regretfully at me. “i know it hurts, but i promise it’s for the best.” after finishing with the catheter, he swaps out the bag attached to the IV drip, and i feel myself start to get drowsy again.

the next time i wake up, the nurse is already beside me. “hey, welcome back,” he says with a light smile. i’m groggy and confused, so he keeps going. “it sounds like the doctor is really busy for now, but he’ll come see you when he gets the time.”

he heads between my legs, pushing them just a little further apart than they were before to get better access. he pulls out the catheter, but again replaces it with something larger. “this one is a plug,” he explains, “which we use because it has some additional functionality. but of course, that has its drawbacks, so let me know if you ever need to relieve yourself.”

he leaves the room, and i’m left just to sit there bored and think about the pain between my legs. slowly, the memories from the night before start to come back to me. i was out dancing with my friends, and i remember clocking a man who was staring at me the whole time. it wasn’t until much later, when i’d had a few drinks in me, that he approached me and handed me a cup.

that man, come to think of it, looked a lot like the nurse. and isn't it strange, that no one else has come in to check on me? even if the doctor is busy, hospitals usually have multiple nurses.

as i start to panic, i feel the plug in my urethra start to... oh my god it's expanding. that's the "additional functionality" he was talking about. the beeping from the heart rate monitor speeds up, and i try to get myself out of the bed, but the restraints are secure. the man pretending to be a nurse must hear the commotion, as he enters the room immediately afterwards.

"now now," he says with a sadistic smile, "there's no need for all that."

"what are you going to do with me?" i demand.

"well first, i'm going to give you a sedative." he starts to fitz with the IV bag again. "not enough to knock you out this time, i want you to feel everything that's happening. but i really do need this struggling to stop."

"you're sick," i spit.

his demeanor remains frustratingly calm. "i'm sure you think so. but remember this point, because it's only going to get worse."

i want to curse at him, but i also need to know: "what do you mean? what are you going to do?"

he leans in close and almost whispers his answer. "i'm going to fuck you in a hole you've never been fucked in before." my eyes go wide and i pull back as much as i can within the restraints, which isn't much. he pushes a button and grins as i feel the plug expand again. "i'm going to fuck your pee-hole."

i try to resume my thrashing, but my limbs are heavy—the sedative is starting to kick in. "you're a freak! what's wrong with you?"

"a lot of things. but since the guise is up, i suppose we don't need this anymore," he says, then cuts the hospital gown off me. "and now that i don't have to pretend, i get to play with you as much as i want until the big finale." he flicks the plug and i scream.

when i'm eventually able to form words again, it's a babble of "no no no no please don't!"

"please don't?" he asks with mock surprise. "you want me to hurry up and fuck your urethra now? but baby you're not stretched out enough, i'd rip you open. well, if that's what you want—"

"NO i don't want that!"

"so you want me to keep playing with you then?" he flicks the plug again, and i scream again. "that's not an answer."

"yes, i want you to keep playing with me! please don't fuck me there yet," i sob.

"okay baby, whatever you want."

[coff33notforme]

Healing!Re2 Leon

A/n: So so sorry I haven't posted anything in so long, I genuinely lost my love for writing for I think its been officially been a year since I last wrote something for fun. Don't fact check me on that, but I'm back! I'm trying to let myself just have fun with writing and not take myself so seriously so please be patient with me! Expect a lot of Resident Evil content from me! And don't be afraid to request! I'll be sure to update my request chart!

Summary: Takes place between re2 and re4! Basically just what happened to him after Raccoon city.

Notes: Headcannons, fluff mostly, themes of depression, alcoholism, body issues, gender neutral reader as usual!

Nothing could've prepared you for the look on his face when he arrived home. Opening your door for him at 11:00 at night, his face silhouetted by the gentle light of your porch lamp. His pale eyes seemed to be looking through you, his face tight with the unconscious clenching of his jaw, his adams apple bobbing faintly. The hum of your porch light filling your head.

Well, that was before you were cupping his face, you couldn't even remember the movement forward, all you could take in was the impact of his embrace. His arms wrapped tightly around you, and if it wasn't for the fact it was twenty degrees out, you'd say he was shaking.

Safe to say he'd move in with you after everything that happened, he needed that sense of security, that familiarity that he'd swear was almost entirely lost on him. He was wordlessly welcomed back into your life.

Though it wasn't all the same, he'd hope it would be, God he really wished. It was weird, having him back around, he was quiet, not in an awkward kind of way, he just didn't feel the need to make his presence known. This isn't to say he doesn't engage in conversation with you, he'll just need more of an obvious cue that you'd like to spark a conversation with him.

Leon won't exactly know what to do with himself, he tried giving himself a week to adjust, then back to the drawing board, that's what he told you. You assured him there was no pressure to jump right back into employment, he'd been through something truly life changing, I mean, it took you two whole months to just get over your dog running away in highshcool.

He'd brush it off of course, he wasn't devastated, at least, not in the way you described, it wouldn't even be anything hard, just something simple. Like retail.

That lasted about two weeks, the first week itself just being job searching, but once he got into the flow and rhythm of stacking supplies in the back of some chain line grocery store, he'd have to quit. That kind of meaningless repetitive work only fed into his existential crisis that had been put on the back burner for far too long.

He'd call you crying during his shift, you'd have to pick him up, parking somewhere close so you could calm him down, he'd spill everything out to you. Rambling on and on about not wanting to spend the prime of his life stacking cans and rearranging produce.

Well at least that's how far he got before embarrassment came crawling up his back, digging its nails into his throat until it felt so tight he couldn't speak.

The drive home would be quiet, not the comfortable kind.

He'd spend a lot of time at home, long enough to where you not its not a phase, and that he's not not getting out of bed without an intervention of some kind.

He admits after weeks of obvious reluctance that he's not ready to work again, he just needs time. You assure him that its completely fine, though you're not entirely sure how much that statement holds true you don't mind picking up some extra shifts if it means comfortably supporting you both.

But that isn't to say he doesn't contribute at all, he's the one preparing all the meals every week. He's the one taking trips to the store, jotting down meal ideas on the pen pad you'd gotten him after the silent acceptance that he'd taken to doing all the cooking.

This goes for chores too, though he wouldn't take to that immediately, he's not used to viewing the house as more then somewhere he eats and sleeps, its only after a comment from you about the disarray of the living room would spark him into action.

After that you haven't seen a speck of dust grace your living room floors since. It's the least he could do since you're funding his identity crisis, well that's what he thinks.

Leon struggles with healthy attachment, he's still not used to the idea that he won't wake up and you'll be gone. Though this doesn't mean he's completely distant.

He does little things to show how much he cares. Like waking up early to prepare your breakfast with a warm cup of coffee, or how he always asks you first what you'd like for dinner.

Though he won't admit it, most days are a struggle. Not every day, but those are the ones where he gets to spend some quality time with you, or he washes it off with a can of beer or two.

He'd hate himself to admit it to you, but he's developed a bit of a drinking problem with all that time at home.

Though once you notice the amount of cans piling up in the recycling he'd guiltily admit that he's been using it to cope, though he doesn't say exactly with what.

You'd encourage him to take up therapy, though he'd hastily deny, you offered him to at least think about it, though the very idea of opening up to a stranger about his problems seemed absolutely absurd.

After a bit of time though, especially when you express your concern with his drinking, he yields. 

Of course with the excessive eating of comfort foods and now only occasional drinking, he’d developed a bit of a dad bod. He didn’t seem to notice at first, but one morning it seems to hit him all at once when he inspects himself in the mirror.

He’ll fiddle and prod at the soft pudge dripping from his sides, like the melted wax of a candle. His doughy thighs pressed together. He’s not really sure how to react, all he feels is this sort of disconnection from himself, like the person in the mirror isn’t really him. 

He’ll avoid it for months, but the changes are clear to you whether he knows or not. But it doesn’t fail to hit you that he hasn’t walked around without a shirt in weeks, not just a shirt, but the kind that completely engulfs his figure, until he’s practically swimming in material. 

You’ll have to intervene at some point, he’ll feel the weight of guilt pressing down onto his shoulders until he humbly admits, yeah, he doesn’t like the way his body looks anymore. You’ll need to have a conversation with him, assure him that it’s okay to gain weight, you don’t love him less just because he’s a little more soft around the middle. 

He’ll need you to gently coax him into being more comfortable with showing his body around you. Gently holding his hips when he's making his coffee in the morning, leaning into him when he hugs you, telling him when you think he looks nice. Just little things that really do boost his confidence. 

After months of unwavering support from you, he’ll notice the lack of disdain he feels when glancing at his reflection on passing surfaces. He'll be comfortable enough to let his belly breathe from time to time when walking around the house, maybe even offering to shower with you when given the chance. 

Of course, progress isn’t linear, he’ll have his days where he wishes more than anything the fat clinging to his frame would melt, like snow dripping from a rooftop against the breath of the morning sun. 

But at least now he feels comfortable admitting to you he isn’t always happy being in his own skin, and he knows you won’t try to correct his thoughts, rather then simply reassure him. He’s far from perfect, but more then anything you’re just glad he’s here.

©️ coff33notforme 2025 please don’t feed into any ai chatbot, or repost my content.Please reblog is you enjoyed! It means a lot!

[readychilledwine]

Pieces of You pt 3

Summary - After losing Feyre to childbirth, Rhysand finds himself leaning on one of her friends much more than he'd ever expected.

Warnings - self doubt, slight manipulation, discussion of moving forward after the death of a spouse, hurt people hurting people, HOFAS spoilers *slightly* (a lot of us had this theory to begin with and I just played with it to fit this)

A/n - It can only be uphill from here, right?.. Special thank you to @honeybeefae and @thehighladywrites for helping me think through how quickly I should let reader and Rhys move on, and for convincing me that I should continue writing this. (Ps friends - sorry I can't tag you. I evidently hit the max tag amount with my taglists.)

✨️ Pieces of You Masterlist ✨️

The 3 month milestone had changed your and Morwenna's lives forever. Rhys had finally convinced you to move into one of his homes. He was insistently whispering to you over and over that the small cabin wasn't going to work anymore, that Cassian and Azriel barely fit inside it, that once his Little Mor and sweet Nyx began to move you four would need more space.

It had been also heartbreaking, entering the home Feyre had crafted, each room so individually thought of for who it was intended to belong to. Above all else, though, it had been lonely.

It wasn't your home. It wasn't the finely crafted wooden arches your mate had assembled by hand. It wasn't the rooms you had spent hours picking colors for. It wasn't cozy. That lack of security and warmth was why you were once again up at 3am. Despite the babies now sleeping for longer chunks of time, you never did. Regardless of if it was a night Rhysand spent at your side or one he spent tucked into the room he had shared with Feyre.

You leaned your head back against the exterior of the home, looking up at the glittering sky, and it finally happened.

3 months of mourning in silence. 3 months of screaming into your pillow. 3 months of stress, of anger, of overflowing love, 3 months of feeling like a shell of the female you were, of feeling as though your body was no longer yours, it crashed into you like a tidal wave. And it swept and destroyed everything in its path.

Rhysand shot awake in bed, feeling something was off. His chest ached, begging him to get up, to move, to search. He pulled on pants, glancing at Nyx and Morwenna sleeping peacefully, but you, once again, had not come to the room. He waited for the wraith to appear, feeling her just moments after he called. “Is it y/n,” Nuala nodded to the question, moving to admire the sleeping babes. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong. She is mourning. That is her right.”

Rhys sighed, moving to your room without hesitation. He had hoped getting you out of that house would help. He had hoped the luxury he could offer you would have helped. He knocked on the door, listening for the broken come in that followed. “Why haven't you come to bed?” You were taken back by the question, taken back by him holding that perfectly tanned hand out. “Come to bed. Let me hold you until those sorrows melt away for the night.”

He knew you didn't feel it. That soft string that had made him scream, made him question all he knew about love and life. Part of him hoped you never did. Part of him hoped he would never have to explain to his family how it had taken him a miniscule 3 month period to fall in love with you and for a Mother given mating bond to snap. Part of him hoped he would never have to experience losing you, to add you to his list of things he would bury too deeply to properly mourn.

“I was unsure if I was wanted there.” That hand reached for yours, clasping it. He was so warm. Always so warm. You could bask in his warmth like he was the sun if given the chance. You shook the feeling mentally, though. “It is-”

“Our room,” he finished softly. “It is our room. Where our children are sleeping. Come to bed.”

Morning came much too soon for Rhysand. It had come much too soon for you as well. You took both of the babes, laughing as they spoke to each other in a language only they knew. They had begun taking more interest in each other, in toys, in the world. They were making life the greatest adventure, even if a lingering pain came from both of you seeing them smile so brightly.

It happened at the worst possible time. You were holding Nyx, forearm under his little tummy and letting “fly” as he worked so very hard to stretch his growing wings. Rhysand was watching you from the doorway, Morwenna on his hip as she looked up at him. Her thoughts were jumbled baby speak, all so happy. Nyx's were elated and fast. When you looked to the doorway, your wide smile fell as that string finished itself and settled deep into your chest.

Rhysand had never watched someone's mental walls fall as quickly as yours did. The silence in the room almost made the giggles of the two unknowing parties fade to background noise. “I was shocked too, darling. It's okay.”

Rhysand had dinner without you that night. He flew to the House of Wind with Nyx to eat with the Inner Circle. He wanted to give you time. He remembered the moment Azriel and Nesta came home, questioning their bonds after exploring those damned caves with the Quinlan girl and learning how the Cauldron had been corrupted. He knew you needed to process. He had too after all.

He took his seat trying to ignore the one that sat empty next to him. Everynight a plate was still sitting there. Even when you came, that chair sat empty, plate untouched. It was a screaming sign that the Inner Circle had not moved in. That they may never move on.

“It just makes the two mates theory make more sense,” Cassian and Amren were deep in a debate again. “If the Daglan, asteri, whatever the fuck we want to call them, did something to the Cauldron to ensure the mating bonds were taken over by it's creation for breeding purposes, then the existence of a Mother Blessed Bond must also be there.”

Amren sighed, “So which do you two have then?” Nesta stiffened at the question. “A Mother Blessed Bond is meant to be true love. It's who we are technically meant to find as a soul mate. A Cauldron made Bond is evidently strictly for breeding. Which do you two share?”

The table hushed. It was a valid question and point. “To continue,” Amren took a drink from her glass before setting it down with a gentle click. “If we come out and tell other courts about this, how many other fae will begin to question their bonds? Kallias and Vivienne? Tamlin and Briar? Helion and Saraya? Lucien and Elain? How do we even begin to prove which bond is which? Does it mean they love that mate less? Rhysand would not have loved Feyre less regardless of the bond type. He will never remarry. Never move on.”

Azriel flicked his eyes to Rhysand. He knew about the bond Rhysand shared with you. He had given Rhysand his blessing to move on and pursue. He had asked his brother to find happiness again. He watched the words land on Rhysand's features, watched his eyes dull.

“If Rhysand did find a new mate,” Azriel spoke softly. “We would all support him moving forward with the bond.”

Nesta scoffed from next to Cassian. “Imagine being that poor female. Living in the shoes of Feyre Cursebreaker. No one could compare.”

But you did, didn't you? Rhysand's grip on his thigh tightened before relaxing. You were just as special, as kind, as loving. You were beautiful. Gods knew you were absolutely beautiful. You were selfless.

“I wouldn't want to try to sit in her place. I would reject the bond,” Mor sipped her wine, leaned back with one arm across her stomach.

Cassian and Azriel both looked to where Rhysand was dead silent. “I need to take Nyx home. He's getting hungry. I'll be right back.”

When Rhysand came back to the House of Wind without his son, he had no intentions of coming back to you that night. So, he never did.

3 awkward weeks passed between you and Rhysand. 3 absolutely strange weeks of either heated kisses and touches or nothing. Not even a good morning. You sighed as you laid Morwenna and Nyx down in the nursery before taking the few strides to Rhysand's office.

He was avoiding you, and it hurt. It hurt knowing your mate, this beautiful unasked for second chance was avoiding you. He was hunched over his desk, reading over some papers and signing a few. “Are we going to talk about why you are avoiding me?”

“I am not avoiding you. I am busy.”

“Yes, busy avoiding me.” You sat across from him, feeling so cold and informal. It was as if you were nothing more than his employee. “Our children are asleep. We should talk about this while we can. I deserve to know if I did something wrong.”

He didn't even look up at you as he replied. “You didn't do anything wrong. As I said, I am busy.” This wasn't the voice of the male who coaxed you to sleep. The one who whispered his dreams to you. “You can go.”

The dismissal made the bond go taunt, and when he felt the first wave of your confusion and hurt, he locked it down more. “Rhys-”

“I think we should sleep in separate rooms again. Our relationship has crossed some lines.”

You blinked at him. Stunned and almost dead silent. “I don't understand where this is coming from?”

“It's the truth. I am your High Lord. You are my subject.” It killed him to say it. His own heart was screaming to stop, but that first brick wall now stood, waiting for the other 3 sides. “We cannot continue blurring that line.”

“You're my mate,” your broken whisper almost made him stop, but he dug in.

“Something we will need to discuss at a later date and time. Surely there will be away for us to reject the bond without causing a downfall and hurting your ability to nanny Nyx.” A second wall stood in place of you and his heart. He knew it was a low blow, and he watched your brows knit and mouth slightly open.

“Rhysand.”

“High Lord,” he corrected.

“Why are you doing this?”

“The bedroom you were in previously is fine.”

“Why are you acting like this?”

“I am establishing a boundary, y/n.” He watched as you began to cry, holding in his own tears as he did. “Our relationship needs to remain appropriate.”

"Do you not want me? We are blessed with this second chance, and you are just turning your back on it. Please, is it me? I know I am not the beauty she was, I know I am not as special as she was. But I'd fight to make you happy, for our children-”

"Nyx isn't yours. Stop acting like he is.”

He watched as you crumbled inside of yourself, that last wall forming around his heart by destroying yours. He didn't mean a single word, but how else was he supposed to save you? All the Mother had ever done to Rhysand was take and take.

You recovered from the blow quickly, nodding as you aggressively wiped the tears from your face. "You have the weekend to find someone else to do what I am. Wen and I are leaving.”

"You can't just take her from me.”

"Yes I can," he knew what was coming, that new bond screaming for him to stop this all. "You aren't her father. Stop acting like it.”

You wanted to slam the door as you walked away before his act fell, before he gripped his chest and warded the room to sob. Little Mor had quickly become his everything. That dark hair, that button nose, those deep blue eyes. She looked like his sister, but you didn't know that when you threatened to take her away. Hadn't known why all three winged males so quickly became attached to her.

And now he was losing her. He was losing you. He was losing everything.

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[mythalism]

That post you reblogged made me realize that Rook being uncurious and only thinking in straight lines got them recruited because Varric doesn't want someone who could be easily swayed to Solas's side. If the Inquisitor was a romanced Lavellan, I can see Varric viewing his boss as someone who isn't thinking straight when it comes to Solas, and it's probably why even Lavellan herself seeks out Rook's opinion on whether or not to reconcile with Solas, because Rook is expected to be incapable falling for Solas's "charm", which could literally just be Solas telling the truth, but anyway. Realizing this does make the game worse for me, 'cause it feels like a minority's plight being brushed aside in favor of a centrist's need to defend the status quo. Sorry for rambling. Thanks for reblogging that post. :)

i think this is a really interesting watsonian way of looking at this but i agree its ultimately a flop. playing up rook's supposed lack of bias and value as an outside perspective when it came to solas could have been really interesting too if it wasnt being done in a way that was ultimately designed to rob the situation of nuance rather than add it. imagine if alongside harding's rose-colored view of the inquisitor and their relationship to solas you had another companion (or even ghost varric. or advisor!merrill because she should have been there) warning you to be wary of anything they say about him, that they're biased in his favor and untrustworthy.

with a lavellan you could have bellara or davrin warning you of how they grew up hearing the story of how the inquisitor betrayed their people when they fell for the dread wolf's tricks. how the tale of a romanced, vallaslin-less lavellan is now whispered around dalish campfires to elven children as a lesson of exactly what will happen if they ignore the keeper's wisdom and allow the dread wolf to catch their scent. another betrayer who trusted fen'harel and lost their blood writing. who got their clan killed. who lost everything. toss in a couple bad-faith interpretations of the inquisition's greatest PR nightmares and its a perfect mirror of how solas's story was misconstrued in the same way. of course, none of it is the truth. it wasn't really their fault. they didnt know! wait. where have i heard that before...

and then rook goes to meet them - all of these disparate views of who they are fresh in their minds. are they the kind, admirable, worthy, holy savior that harding idolizes? are they a tragic, pathetic fool chasing after a doomed love? are they a fen'harel sympathizing turncoat elf who's about to manipulate you into dooming the world (again)? are they just a person doing their best? (are they just like you?) well. rook is the perfect person to make that judgement! right? because they're so perfectly unbiased and completely objective, because being completely unbiased and objective as a person is possible, right? and because being unbiased and objective IS the goal and is always superior to being swayed by passion or emotion, right? except. now the inquisitor is in front of you and... its kind of hard to tell. they seem like anyone else you've talked to. they seem a little sad and lonely. they are pretty level-headed about the whole thing. more than you expected. an inquisitor with high approval with solas would speak about him positively, maybe a little love-sick, but they dont seem completely bamboozled. one who hated solas would speak of him with disdain, but... how can you be sure they arent just lying? they worked with him for a year. they let him stick around in their inner circle! they could be trying to fool you into a false sense of security!

maybe you have to accept or deny their help, or accept or deny a plan they present. it seems pretty sound, but how can you know? is it all a ploy to betray you and save him? can they be trusted? if you reject them; harding and the other companions that view them positively are furious. how could you have just denied one of the greatest allies to your cause? but if you choose to trust them, the companions who distrust the inquisitor are just as angry. how could you have put the entire fate of the world at jeopardy like this!? your sympathy is going to get everyone killed! they're manipulating you just like he does! how could you trust someone so clearly under solas's thumb!?

no, listen, its ok, rook tells them. they're different, because rook is not biased. thats why varric chose them, remember!? rook has an outsider's perspective, and thats what we needed, remember!? the attachment to solas that the inquisitor had, no matter the strength of it (loathing vs love) was a weakness! dont you see!? rook's outsider, unbiased, objective perspective on the situation was better! only through this perspective could they make the CORRECT choice!

except... you dont know solas. you dont know anything real about him. you dont know what is meaningful to him, his weaknesses, his desires. you dont know him as a person, only as an abstract god-like figure. you dont understand how his brain works. you dont know that he hates tea and can beat anyone in chess. you didnt take the time to understand him. just like you didnt take the time to understand the inquisitor. and now, without the inquisitor's aid you lose valuable information, allies, resources. your final battle gets significantly harder. you are locked out of specific endings. maybe your companions die.

all because you fell into the same trap as solas. you refused to trust. you refused to take the time to understand your opponent. you wrote them off as villainous, untrustworthy, betrayer. you gave myth the weight of history. you tried to do it all on your own. you couldn't acknowledge the bias inherent within yourself. you thought you were the only one who could make the right decision for the world. rather prideful, isnt it?

[just-a-creep-babe]

What Makes You Tick - Chapter 2

(Ticci Toby x Reader)

On god idk WHY I struggled sm writing this, hopefully the next few chapters will come a bit easier ;~; Anywho lmk what you think like usual!!

Commissions are open!

Check out my ko-fi if you'd like to support me!

Masterlist: x

Prologue Chapter 1

Divider by @plum98

You’re lightheaded.

You think you might faint. The nausea twisting in your gut is threatening to empty the contents of your stomach. And there’s a pounding in your head like something’s trying to claw its way into your brain.

This can’t be happening. This isn’t real. It can’t be real.

As you’re processing—or, at least, trying to process everything—he jerks his shoulder again and cracks his neck. And it gives you an idea.

You knocked him out once—you could do it again. Maybe you could buy yourself more time to call for help, or wait for the cops to come, or at least secure him with something better than your flimsy shirt.

And so, with a deep breath to steel your nerves, you inch closer. Your fingers grip the edges of your phone so tightly you’re almost surprised it doesn’t break.

You hate approaching him. Just going near him has your pulse spiking and your hands getting sweaty. You try to control your breathing—in and out, in and out. He can't hurt you, you remind yourself. He's tied up and prone on the floor—you have the advantage.

It's what you repeat to yourself over and over again as he just sits there and watches you through his goggles. But even as you try to convince yourself you can do this, you can't help the uneasy feeling that he has more control than he's letting on.

You look down at him, and he looks up at you. His deep brown hair falls over the metallic rims of his goggles. Something about him looks soft and almost... disarmingly innocent.

You swallow thickly, your saliva going down like tar. You can't fall for it.

You or him, you think, if you don't do this now, who knows what he'd do to you if he had the chance?

Your muscles tense, ready to strike.

In all honesty, you should've expected him to fight back. Even despite his compromised position, of course he wouldn't just sit there and take it. But you're so overwhelmed and utterly out of your element that you don't even think to expect a retaliation—not until it's already too late.

Pain burns up your body as he kicks out your legs from beneath you. You stumble with a yelp. In one horribly fast motion, as you’re trying to regain your balance, he rushes up and grabs you from behind in a headlock.

The taste and texture of soft cotton have you choking back a scream. He's gagging you with the shirt you used to tie him up with. You try to jerk out of his hold, but any slight movement has him tightening his arm around your neck.

You can't breathe.

Panic seizes your body, freezing you into compliance against him. His voice is low and quiet against your ear, and even though he doesn't threaten you, you still feel that thrum of danger pounding in your ribcage as he speaks.

"Shh," he croons, the sound reverberating against your backside, "easy, angel, easy~"

His tone is deceptively gentle.

You struggle against him, but he's so much stronger than you could've expected. Your pathetic attempts don’t even deter him in the slightest from tying the gag in a knot behind your head.

When you hear ripping, you flinch, expecting a burst of pain—from what, exactly, you aren’t even sure—but it never comes. Instead, you realize he's tearing your shirt. And then your sight is cut off as he blindfolds you with the excess fabric.

Fight—you have to fight him off.

Everything inside your body is screaming at you to do something. You can't just let him do whatever he wants to you.

You try to yank yourself free, but he flexes his arms and cuts off your airway again. Something like a half-sob, half-choke escapes you as you gasp for air. The gag clings to your throat, and you have to bite down—hard—on the now-wet fabric to prevent it from suffocating you.

"Shh, it's ok, it's alright—sh-shh~"

The hard edges of his mask dig into your hair as he holds you firmly to his chest. You're so close you can smell him—something like smoke and blood and pine trees, and all you can think about is how you need to get away from him.

"You're going to follow me—nice—n-nice and quietly, alright, angel? And I won't—I won't hurt you if you don't give me—if you don't give me a reason to."

His threat has the hairs at your nape standing stiff.

When he starts dragging you away, you don't have much of a choice but to follow.

Blind and mute, you haphazardly stumble in the direction he guides you in. When it’s too cumbersome to walk with you trapped between his arms, he clicks his tongue and loosens the chokehold.

In the ever so brief millisecond he’s shifting his hold on you, you try to make a break for it. But you don’t even get the taste of freedom before he’s grabbing you again, and this time, he ends up pinning both of your wrists behind your back. His grip is painfully tight, like a warning for you to not try that again.

He jerks behind you, with what you assume to be his neck cracking, and then he’s pushing and pulling you this way and that to bring you god-knows-where.

Every time you try to yank yourself free, his grip tightens. His fingers dig so hard into your skin that you know his imprint will leave bruises. And even though he’s guiding you through your own house, it’s impossible to keep track of where he’s taking you. You’re too overwhelmed, your thoughts too frantic to properly focus on your remaining senses.

You hear him open a door, and then he’s tugging you outside. The humid summer air clings to your skin as you’re dragged against your will through your own neighborhood. The only indicator of your whereabouts is the ground beneath your feet, which shifts from hard pavement to soft grass as you’re led away from your apartment block.

You whine against the makeshift gag, trying to chew it off or push it away from your tongue. But it’s useless. Amid your panicked struggle, you scramble for some kind of plan, some kind of opportunity to get out of this, but you can’t think straight. It takes so much energy to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other without falling that you can’t think about anything else.

You don’t expect it when he suddenly jerks you to the side and forces you to an abrupt stop. It has you choking on another gasp in surprise, like insult to injury. When you catch your breath, you realize you don’t know how far he’s taken you. For all you know, you could’ve walked for miles as much as you could’ve walked just a few hundred steps.

You try to speak, try to beg through the gag, but all that comes out is a muffled whimper. You twist in his hold, and his grip tightens until it feels like he’s going to snap the very bones of your wrists.

“Don’t move,” he warns, his voice low over your ear.

You freeze. His warning has a shiver trickling down your spine. He’s so, so close to you. He’s pressing against your backside, and if you shift just the slightest bit, you can feel the hardness of his axes pressing against you.

You swallow back a whimper.

Sirens.

You hear them in the distance.

A surge of desperately hopeful energy jolts through you. They’re here—the police—looking for you. You’re so relieved you nearly cry. But before you can react, as if sensing your shift in temperament, his grip tightens even harder.

“If you try to escape, I’ll bury a—a blade in both your knees and drag you back if I—if I have to.”

His threat, low and quiet and filled with promising intent, has you going as rigid as before.

You hold your breath as you wait—calculating the odds of the police seeing you, calculating how far you could get if you made a break for it, calculating every single odd stacked against you if you dared an escape.

Louder and louder, the blaring sirens approach. There’s more than one car, you realize, more than one chance of getting noticed. But you also know that he's probably hiding out of their immediate line of sight, and if you just stand there like he wants you to, they’ll probably never see you.

Still, his threat hangs in the air. Your body warms with impatience, but you just can't bring yourself to move. With every second ticking by, your chance at freedom is slipping through the very cracks of your fingers. You try to stay calm, try not to panic, but whether you like it or not, you're racing against time.

You haven't seen his face, you think, if you somehow got the cops' attention, would he risk getting caught? Surely, it wouldn't be worth it. Surely, if it came down to it—if it came down to either you or him confronting the cops—he'd release you and run away.

But would he hurt you before escaping? How much damage could he do in a short amount of time? The idea has the taste of acid rising up your throat again. What does he have to gain out of this? What does he even want from you??

The blaring sirens grow too close, too loud for you to ignore. They must be right down the street. The man behind you is deathly still, which confirms your theory. You take in another deep breath. Now's your chance.

With as much strength as you can gather, you kick him and jerk your elbow into him at the same time. You don't know where your hit lands, but you feel the full force of the impact as you hit your mark. It's enough to hurt him—or, at the very least, stun him—and it has him loosening his grasp just enough for you to break free from him.

You run.

Stumbling blindly, you use all of your energy to focus on pushing forward and moving as far away from him as possible. Fingernails claw at the fabric over your eyes, but the knot is too tight to undo. You gasp with exertion, and another flash of panic rushes through you when you can't breathe in through the gag.

You tear at the fabric, nails nearly splintering from the effort, but the knot loosens and comes undone.

You’re about to gasp in relief when you're suddenly pushed to the ground. You yelp, turning onto your back, and though can't see him, you can feel your attacker above you. You don’t hesitate to kick in his direction, and even over the blaring sirens, you hear him cursing.

You pray the police see you, especially as he grabs one of your ankles and uses it as leverage against you. You’re about to twist your body and nail him with another kick from your free leg, but he catches that one too. And then the air is pushed from your lungs as the full weight of him pins you down, securing your legs so that you can't keep fighting him off.

You start using your hands instead.

He blocks your first hit, but on the second one, your fingers make contact with something hard—his mouthguard. With a burst of strength, you wrap your hands around it and rip it off of him—anything for some kind of distraction.

It works. With another curse, he releases your hand. You don't waste a second trying to tear your blindfold off again. But it's too tight—you don't have a chance, not while he's on top of you like this and your time is so, so very limited. The sirens are at their loudest; if you keep waiting, they'll drive away without noticing you.

You try to shove him off, but as soon as you make contact with the fabric of his hoody, both of his hands lock around your wrists in a death grip. You yelp at the flash of pain snipping your circulation, which is immediately overtaken by another pang of agony as he roughly snaps your arms above your head and traps you in place.

You realize, as you hear the police cars whipping down the street, that you only have one last chance at calling attention to yourself. And it suddenly clicks that your mouth is free, and both of his hands are busying themselves with yours, so he has no way of shutting you up.

Scream.

As soon as the idea comes to mind, you take in a breath. But in the brief millisecond it takes you to do so, it's like he realizes what you're planning to do. And just as you're about to scream like your life depends on it—because it probably does—something presses against your lips.

The pressure is soft and warm, with rough, chapped patches. The smell of blood and... something else, something unfamiliar fills your senses.

It, admittedly, takes you a moment to realize he's kissing you. He's kissing you to stop you from screaming. The realization stuns you.

You're too shocked to react. All you can do, it seems, is lie there and let him kiss you.

At the back of your mind, something begs for you to fight back. Push him, bite him, thrash beneath him—anything. A thousand different ways of freeing yourself come to mind, and yet, none surface.

Even as you hear the sirens rushing past, even as they begin to grow quieter and quieter in the growing distance, you just can't bring yourself to fight back.

His lips—your kidnapper's lips—never once part from yours. But despite the body heat, there's no warmth in the contact. It's just cold, calculated—heartless.

When silence falls over the streets, only then does he move. His mouth twitches into a relieved, self-satisfied smile against you. And that vile nausea twists at the pit of your stomach yet again.

You don't try to scream, even after he pulls away.

You hear him readjust what you could assume to be his mouthguard back over his face. And then your blindfold is ripped off.

The light is blinding. You have to blink the muddiness and confusion away. And then, as your sight returns, you find a pair of deep orange goggles staring down at you. Light from the sunset bathes him in a hazy glow like a halo of light, and from the perspective you have beneath him, he almost looks like an angel.

Your stomach lurches again, and you nearly puke.

Looking down at you, the man tilts his head, but doesn't say anything as he crams the makeshift blindfold into your mouth. It's tightened behind your head, tighter than he'd previously knotted it, and your pathetic attempts at stopping him are once again useless.

When he takes something out of his pocket, you can't help but flinch. His threat rings in your head, and you wonder if this is it, if this is the last thing you'll ever see; this masked stranger slitting your throat on a warm summer evening.

You'll die not even knowing why he wanted to kill you.

Relief, brief and fleeting as it may be, warms your chest when all he pulls out is a disposable flip phone.

He presses a button and, his sight never once leaving you, holds the device to his ear.

"...Yeah, I'm gonna need a pickup."

[cosmicsully]

OBSESSED WITH YOU

aged up!Neteyamx aged up!human(f)!reader

Summary: In which…. Neteyam crosses paths with a human, but what is that sudden obsession with her, where did that need to protect her come from?

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: fluff, Y/N’s personal space is quite literally violated by Neteyam, Y/N is the first Human Neteyam has ever seen, Neteyam barely speaks/understands English, kissing, slight make out, lowkey unrealistic storyline lmao

My Masterlist <3.

What are you called? = fyape syaw fko ngar Stay calm = mawey beautiful: (of people) = sevin take it off = kämunge tsal I want to see = Oe new ne kame hurry up = win säpi nefä so soft = nìftxan 'ango

I hope you enjoy! If you do, feel free to reblog, I might consider writing more parts to this :) <3

I can still remember how it happened. The day that I met Neteyam still lingers in my mind, the young Na´vi boy consuming my attention at all times.

About a week ago, I can still feel the soft breeze of air flushing against my legs, I remember smelling the green plants that had just been drowned in the heavy rain the previous night. The loving light of the warm sun embraces my figure as I walk across a muddy path, trying not to step on any kind of animal. I was outside although I was not allowed to leave the lab. Secretly slipping out of the back door, the mask that is pumping oxygen into my lungs well secured on my face, as I made it my new goal to explore Pandora further.

It is a memory I cherish. The adrenaline that runs through my veins as I took one step after the other, putting as much space as possible between me and the lab.

With the feeling of well-secured safety and no one having caught me fleeing from my home, I slowed my steps, taking in my beautiful surroundings. All kinds of exotic colorful plants surround my form, my eyes darting to one and then another, trying to see everything all at once. My ragged breathing slowed down as I sprinted across the mud, my feet now slightly covered in it.

I can’t help but feel joy consume me whole.

The beauty of Pandora yet again swallowed me, pulling me in. I let my feet work on their own, deciding on taking a small walk to find new interesting and unexplored corners. My fingertips glide against a pulsating bluish plant, as it vibrates against my hand in return, letting myself smile at the uncommon feeling.

This world is so alive.

It is beautiful, I hope its owners treat it well, with respect and cherish it just as I do. Although from the stories I have been told, Na’vi are very spiritual species who inhabit these forests. And now that I think of it, I have never truly seen a real Na’vi.

Dreamwalkers don’t count.

Not letting my mind linger on the thought of facing a real Na’vi, I continued my exploration, It felt like mere minutes, but because it was slowly becoming darker around me it must have been at least a few hours. The only sound that reaches my ears is my breathing from behind the thin glass that is covering my entire face, and the nature that I’m currently moving in. Deciding that I have seen enough for today and that Norm is most likely worrying about my well-being, I take a turn and walk to the path I have been walking all along and slowly but surely make my way back to the lab.

Just as I took a few steps, I heard a quiet huff and leaves moving behind a tree a few feet away from me.

Midway through me turning my head, a blue figure emerges from the bushes. There he stands. A tall male Na’vi. His stripes-covered skin glows underneath the small amount of light that is still falling on Pandora.

He is beautiful.

So beautiful the nature around me is no longer on my mind. All my focus and attention is now drawn to him as I see his fist tightening around a weapon that is firm in his right hand.

With quick movements, he is pointing an arrow at me.

“Wait- Wait- Wait-“ I start as his face wears an angry expression, his frown-covered face facing my direction. I can see his ears perk up at the words that left my mouth. The foreign language fills his head as he decides on killing or spearing me.

“fyape syaw fko ngar?” he hisses, flashing his fangs at me. His white teeth sparkle in the sun as he takes a big step closer to me. His sudden movement made me trip over, my backside making contact with the now slightly dried ground. Him now towering over me even more, his height is scary.

“I- I’m sorry I don’t understand you, please talk slower,” I say, trying to speak slowly, he probably doesn’t understand my words. He tilts his head in confusion, his eyes widening as he takes in my form. Here I am, halfway sitting up in the slightly muddy forest of Pandora. My eyes are fixated on the Na’vi that is towering above me.

“fyape. syaw. fko. ngar?” he repeats, now trying to talk as slow as I did. His pronunciation is now much clearer, his eyes squinting close as if he can see the wheels whirring behind my eyes. This situation throws me back multiple years, remembering the Na’vi lessons we were put through at the mere age of ten. He must have said something about me. Asking about my age? No that would not add up to the situation I’m currently in. Maybe he asked what my name is. That makes way more sense, him emerging from the forest, probably taking me in as a threat.

Slowly, I raise my hands on either side of my head a little, to show that I have no weapons on me, and don’t mean any harm to anyone. At my gesture his ears stand up, their previous position flattened against his head long gone. While doing so, his curiosity must have grown, he lowers his weapon, no meaning to harm me for now. The unknown Na’vi male lowers himself into a crouching position, as he fixates his bow on his back and secures the arrow back in its holder. With me still staying put on the ground, he starts to crawl over my much smaller form to take in my face.

His expression is still confused, but the curiosity must be getting a hold of him. He slowly makes his way above me, his face getting closer to mine, I can feel his warm breath hitting my cheek, his sparkly yellow eyes boring into my own. Pupils now grown bigger and bigger with each second that passes.

“What are you doing?” I whisper, my questioning tone must have shown him that I asked a question. He shakes his head in a way to tell me that he has no idea what I just said, but he doesn’t leave his current position, instead, he’s only inching closer to my body. His face slowly moved to the left side of my face, flattened nose touching my cheek and slowly moving down to my neck. His way of moving and actions remind me of an animal, I can feel him take a deep breath through his nose when it hits my pulse point. It’s like he’s taking in my scent, trying to burn it into his brain to never lose the smell of me.

His actions makes a shudder run down my spine, a shaky breath leaving my mouth only now realizing that I have been holding my lungs oxygen-free for the past minute, them now aching and burning for more.

He breathes me in again, this time with eyes closed, my scent filling his nostrils. My breathing stays unsteady, his presence making my heart quicken in my chest, he seems to notice that, his eyes now fixated on my chest, watching it rise and fall again. When my eyes caught his never leaving my chest, a frown forms on my face, my mouth gaping at him and my arms moving to cover my chest. Slightly uncomfortable under his stare that is on one of my most intimate parts.

He quickly shakes his head and uses one of his three-fingered hands -that is at least twice as big as mine- to move them away, his now gained free access to my chest making him move his head closer, the side of his face making contact with me, his ear hovering above my heart. My heartbeat echoes in his head, its beating pumping hot blood through my veins. Although he does not seem to have the intention to hurt me in any way, my heart doesn’t slow its fast beats. His heavy head makes contact with my chest, I can feel him resting his head completely.

He stays put for a few seconds, the sound of soft breaths leaving his nose hit my ears. My heart still hammers in my chest, continuing to reveal my unsure feelings about the moment and this stranger who is quite literally breaking the definition of personal space. He stirrers up removing his ear from my chest, now much softer yellow eyes meeting mine.

“Mawey.” he whispers. His soothing voice makes it seem like a sweet gesture, the way he talks, the way his eyes move from me to my chest, no, to my heart, its like he wants to tell me to relax. The next thing that catches his attention is the oxygen mask that covers my slightly blushing face. With one of his fingers he taps against the glass, the tap rather harsh as it shoots through the glass and right to my ears echoing softly.

"Neteyam." he speaks up, the pronunciation lingering in my mind. As he speaks, he points the finger that just tapped my mask to his chest, gesturing to himself, it seems to be his way of introducing himself to me.

"Y/N." I say telling him my name. His ears perk up as my voice hits him.

"Y/N…" he tries to pronounce my name just like I did, but fails miserably. I can´t help myself but let a giggle slip past my lips at his terrible attempt at pronouncing my name, squinting my eyes closed in the process. He doesn´t exactly laugh at my reaction, but what seems to be a small smile makes its way across Neteyams face. I like the way my name sounds when he speaks.

"Sevin." he whispers pointing at me again. His hand glides downwards to my own and he takes a look at it, his eyes fixated on my little finger. He slowly but surely wraps two of his fingers around it, completely engulfing my pinky with his. His hand is huge compared to mine. If he wanted to, he could cover my entire hand with his and nothing of my hand would be visible.

"Sevin?" I ask, questioning his last words, why did I barely pay attention when we were told simple words that are commonly used by Na´vi?

"Beautiful?" he now repeats, his accent thick as he tries to translate his words.

"You mean me?" I ask a little unsure, it is not unknown in the lab that Na´vi and humans don´t usually interact with one another, let alone find any interest in each other. He points his finger against my chest again, still trying to get me to understand that he thinks I´m pretty.

I can´t help but blush at his actions, not quite used to being complimented by someone.

"You´re beautiful too" I answer, already aware of the fact that he probably doesn´t understand what I just told him. So I point my finger at his chest just like he did to me and say

"Sevin."

His eyes fall to my pointer finger that is currently resting against his chest, his hands now following his eyes, a blue hand yet again engulfing my own. I feel a certain warmth spread through my chest.

Am I supposed to feel like this?

Probably not.

No, definitely not.

Then why does his presence feel so good? Why do I feel this special security with him? When his warm eyes meet mine?

His attention is now back on my face, the way he is now directly in front of me, allows me to take a closer look at his facial features. His yellow, big, cat-like eyes are pulsating with warmth and softness, his slightly flattened nose wrinkling when he senses new smell. He seems to be studying me just as I do him.

"kämunge tsal" he whispers, now again tapping against my oxygen mask.

Although I could not exactly translate his spoken words in my head, it must have been something about my mask. I shake my head hastily, if his intentions are about me taking it off he can forget it.

"Oe new ne kame" he urges me on, his eyes filled with curiosity and desperate pleading.

"Off," he says quickly his demanding tone fitting to his accent, his hand already finding the bottom of the mask and lifting it off of my face. His sudden actions make me gasp and quickly breathe in, to catch another wave of oxygen.

The mask is now all the way off, Neteyam places it on one of his muscular tights, but his vibrant eyes are darting across every moving muscle on my face. He studies me carefully as if he is afraid of breaking me with a grip that might be too firm for my body.

His left-hand moves to the right side of my head, the warm palm of his softly meeting me. His palm swallows half of my skull, it’s like a puzzle fitting, his piece connecting with mine. A few seconds later I have a sort of ticklish feeling against my upper thigh, his strong tail curling twice around it. The movement makes me blush, I feel my cheeks and half of my neck warming. It’s like Neteyam is trying to be as close as possible, though I can not really tell why.

His face inches closer to mine, he’s so close again that I can feel his breath on my lips, his eyes dare to look at them for a quick moment but just as he meets them he averts his gaze again. I can’t help it but copy his movement, my eyes darting down to his lips.

I can feel the atmosphere between us get turned upside down within one quick glance at his lips, a sort of tension building up.

What I’m doing here is insane.

I should be home by now.

Just as I can feel him getting even closer, the need for oxygen is growing and growing, my lungs aching for relief. My eyes shoot down to his leg hastily grabbing the mask that my body so desperately seeks. The moment it hits my face I take a deep breath, my heart beating at a quickening speed. Neteyam groans in response his hand falling from my head, instead both of his hands land on either side of my waist. As I try to steady my breathing, he pulls my smaller form into his lap.

"win säpi nefä" he lowly whines, making my eyebrows raise in confusion at his whining. He waits a few seconds for my chest to raise at a normal speed again, his eyes boring through mine as if he is asking for permission, although I can not quite tell for what.

"Enough" he orders now quite needy ripping the mask off my face, but before I can respond in annoyance, warm lips are pressed against my very own. My eyes widen at his sudden actions, I can`t hold back the quiet unexpected sigh that sounds like a soft moan leaving my lips.

Neteyam responds eagerly, his tongue now parting my lips ready to claim my mouth, the taste of me lingering on his tastebuds, he pulls me closer by my hips, the close proximity making him groan. The kiss quickly becomes feverish and passionate as his desire for more keeps growing. His hand moves to the back of my head keeping me in place to continue his almost assault on my lips. His rough palms skim down my waist to hook around my hips, pulling me flush against his chest.

It is something I have never felt before, the adrenaline coursing through my veins making my head dizzy. Or maybe it was the lack of oxygen that was making me feel lightheaded.

I can´t help but try to pull away from him, his much stronger grip on me only tightening in response, in order to gain focus again I let my fingers tangle into his braids, softly tugging his lips away from mine. Neteyam growls in protest, chasing my lips with his but I lean back and reach down to put the mask that dangles down my body back on my face. As I keep filling my lungs with air, I look up through the thing glass with heavy-lidded eyes, my chest still heaving and my heart thrumming in my chest.

Neteyam pants softly, just as breathless as I am.

Behind Neteyam I can see his tail swaying with excitement from side to side, his own heavy eyes now focused on a part of my neck. He quickly connects his lips with my neck, softly coating it with open-mouth kisses. With his other hand, he gently tugs on my hair to expose my neck to his mouth. Not caring about the noises that could slip out of my mouth, I let a soft moan leave my lips at the feeling. That seems to urge him on further, his lips traveling from my neck, to my collarbone and lastly to my pulse point. It is the place he breathed me in earlier, he growls at the memory, lips quickly working at sucking on my delicate skin.

I close my eyes at the feeling of his soft but rough lips as they work against my sensitive skin, my mouth slightly agape at the pleasure that is shooting through every inch of my body.

"nìftxan 'ango" the Na´vi male moans against my neck, at the sound of a twig breaking somewhere in the distance, Neteyam quickly breaks away from my sensitive skin. His tail tightened around my thigh in a protective manner.

"Come" he hushes at me, now raising to his feet and full height, With one swift movement he claims my wrist in his hand sneaking around it in a soft grip. He pulls me up in no time as if I weigh nothing to him. I can feel myself hovering over the ground for a split second before he lets go of my wrist now fully placing me back on the ground I was laying on only minutes ago.