#but it’s hard enough fighting these things without being told how good they are

[hug-me-hard-so-i-dont-forget-you]

As soon as Buddie becomes canon I want to see ALL the domestic moments between them:

Eddie jolts awake from a nightmare (about Shannon or his time in combat) and Buck just rolls over and holds him tight, foreheads pressed together, whispering calming words until he falls asleep.

I don't think they'd have pet names. Other than when they're teasing each other. But I do think someone (probably Buck) would try one out.

"Thanks babe." "Ew— what? No. Stop that." And that was the end of that. Yet (and Eddie would never admit this) he doesn't seem to mind certain terms of endearment during sexy times.

They still have their ✨kitchen moments✨, they're just cuter now. They talk about their problems while doing the dishes together, if one of them is doing something like chopping vegetables or stirring a pot the other most likely has their arms wrapped around them from behind with their chin on their shoulder, one of the cabinet doors is now broken due to being shoved into it while making out one too many times.

Buck LOVES when Eddie speaks Spanish. Whether it's first thing in the morning in a groggy voice or shouted at him during a fight. And Eddie has learned to use it to his advantage, getting Buck to do things by buttering him up in Spanish. Though he could literally just be reciting the Pledge of Allegiance and Buck would never know.

So they start to do little daily Spanish lessons. Starting with words or phrases of the day on the way to work (think similar to when May and Eddie would discuss the word of the day). But Buck has a hard time rolling his R's and it just makes Eddie laugh and stare at him fondly. One time he was so amused that he pulled a Fez from That 70s show: ("You know how Fez sometimes rolls his R's? Well that's what he did in my mouth!") and smirks, saying "Do it more like that." and Buck is stunned silent for a full minute. Eddie gets out of the car, opens Buck's door and had to unbuckle his seatbelt before Buck realizes where he is.

Whenever one of them is fuming from a fight with their parents the other pushes them down into a chair or the couch and stands behind them to rub their shoulders

One day Buck accidentally grabs the wrong 118 shirt and ends up wearing 'DIAZ' on his back all day and once he realizes he starts to strut around with a proud grin. Since then, he starts to purposely wear Eddie's clothes to tease him, knowing full well that it gets Eddie all hot and bothered.

Buck also gets more handsy at home since they're not allowed to show PDA at work. Sometimes he literally waits until the second they've stepped foot off the 118 property to grab Eddie's ass.

When Buck starts spiraling, going on and on about how he's not good enough and that's why everyone leaves him, Eddie will just subtly place a hand on his thigh or lower back. And it usually immediately calms him down.

If Buck can't sleep Eddie will wake up in the middle of the night and find him baking in the kitchen. He just sits at the table watching him, asking quietly, "Do you wanna talk about it?" Sometimes he does and other times Buck just shakes his head. So, while in comfortable silence, Eddie measures out the ingredients and hands them over when needed.

Eddie is embarrassed about just how many times he's tried to reach for something on a high shelf, tippy-toes and all, only to have Buck either lift him up so he can get it OR grab the item and hold it captive until Eddie gives him a kiss.

Very dramatic declarations of love or betrayal:

"I can't believe this." "Buck..." "I thought you loved me." "I do." "I once saw a long life together in the future. Now I'm not so sure..." "Okay, I'm sorry I watched the new episode without you!" "...I'm gonna need a minute."

"Buck, have I ever told you how goddamn perfect you are?" "Maybe. Might as well say it again. ☺️" "I'm serious. You can do nothing wrong and anyone who says otherwise can fight me." "Okay calm down. Do you fall in love with everyone who gives you an orgasm and then cooks for you afterward?" "...yes."

[galahadenough]

Okay, I was going to be all tumblr-whispering in the tags, but no. I want to say this.

Because it’s so frustrating.

I’ve tried (very gently, mind you, because I know how hard society can get on a person when this word gets used as a label) telling my therapist I have a reading addiction. And I just got told what you’re always told about reading.

It’s good for you! Good for you for reading so much!

And I’ve never wanted to stand my ground and push back, to make a passionate case for it, because I love reading. I adore it and always have. But also because it’s a crutch that I sorely need, which I think all addictions probably are at the root of them, and I’m lucky enough to be labeled an avid reader instead of an addict.

And, no, I’ve never to my knowledge had an addiction to, like, drugs or alcohol, so I apologize in advance if it feels like I’m making light of addictions. But I’ve seen people describing addictions and it resonated so well with some of my experiences.

I don’t just pick up a book when I have time. I am sometimes absolutely desperate to read. It feels like homesickness. It’s an ache. And sometimes it’s because I’m in a good story but sometimes it’s not even something I’m enjoying. It’s just a way to not exist for a while.

When it’s at its worst I’ll feel physically ill from reading too much and not be able to stop.

Fanfiction probably makes it so much worse because it’s a bottomless well that flows from one fic to another that there’s no concise beginning or end.

It’s this same thing. It’s self isolating, from others and even from myself. I can cease to exist. And like self-isolating it can be hard to see or is even praised.

im going to come out and say it: isolating is a self-destructive behavior. it might not be as obvious and immediately self-destructive as say, impulsive spending, drug use or risky behaviors, but it gradually decays relationships and can deepen your mental health issues. often, our impulse is to retreat from others and responsibilities for “self care” or to��“work on ourselves” and obviously sometimes we need mental health breaks, but there’s a line you cross from “taking a break” to full on neglecting your relationships with others and your social needs that can be incredibly damaging to yourself and others over time

[glacierbash]

I like making iverelle a total loser. I like going “yeah without her echo she kinda sucks at everything.” I like making her self esteem and ego issues correct. I love making everything she’s insecure about true. Holding this elf up by her scruff and going “I think you’re lame and that’s why I love you.”

[eph3merall]

dealer!chris n innocent!bff!reader who eventually have sex ...

☆ . . . chris is so so sweet <3 gently coaxes you into believing that it's okay. that it wont ruin your guys' friendship at all, even though he knows once he hits he'll want to come right back. he'll be damned if he lets his best friend go fuck some other guy.

☆ . . . chris ends up taking your virginity when hes high. you were slightly tipsy from a few drinks, crawling all over his lap and giggling like some puppy. he couldn't exactly help the hard-on he got, y'know? hes a man. you couldnt blame him.

☆ . . . the two of you were just talking, truthfully. after chris had finally managed to get you to loosen up a little you were so smiley and squirmy, accidentally rubbing against his cock without even realizing. tipsy giggles left your lips every second he said something, his mind feeling all fuzzy and not quite there.

☆ . . . the topic of sex came up. chris isnt sure how, or why. "you've never been fucked?" "no..? s'that a problem?." "no, no.. jus', you're missin' out." chris is chuckling and staring at you like he wants to devour you, and you completely miss it. "m'parents always told me to wait until marriage" and he nearly starts cooing at you with how adorable you sound, tugging you closer as his hands cup your cheeks.

☆ . . . fast forward and he's lazily grinding up against you with his hands planted firmly on your hips to help you roll them against his clothed dick. "ohh, i know.. feels good? huh?" the prettiest little whines are sounding from your lips that have been bitten raw, eyes glancing down to where you repeatedly hump against your best friend. "chris..." his name sounds so good in that whiny tone, said in a low mewl as you grasp at his shoulders.

☆ . . . you dont know fully why you feel like this, all hot and eager for chris to continue helping you rut against him. then again, it isn't all sunshines and rainbows for him either. chris is fighting back the urge to bust in his pants, holding you close and letting your body move slowly on its own.

☆ . . . soon enough, he's breathing heavy as his cock strains against his jeans. staring at your nervous face as you tug your panties down and he has to stop himself from grabbing you and sitting you down on his dick until his tip hits your cervix. he knows it'll hurt. and chris just happens to be so kind to his best friend, he's letting you sit down in his lap with both of your legs thrown across his.

☆ . . . your head leans back, his chin resting on top of your head as he sinks his middle finger into your cunt. "fuck, oh.. look at you. s'cute, baby" "chris.." you just sound so pathetic to him, as he hushed you gently. his other hand is wrapped around your stomach, holding you close and keeping your thrashing to a minimum.

☆ . . . your gasp turns into a moan when chris eases another finger in, the squelching sound of your own cunt echoing in your ears—making heat spread up your neck to your face. it just feels so... weird. your hips twitched gently and yoh didn't miss the chuckle that sounded from your best friends mouth, his free hand sliding up gently to squeeze at your tits.

☆ . . . when you start shifting around more and your hand grabs at chris' wrist to try and slow the sensations down, he knows you're close. a soft hush comes from him as he continues with his ministrations, ignoring the way you whine and cry about how you feel weird. "jus' let it happen. s'not a bad thing, baby.. c'mon, cum for me. theere you go" the wave of pleasure that washes over you is almost heavenly, your body tensing then going slack a few seconds after, lips parted in heavy gasps of air.

☆ . . . you think you would be done honestly, until chris is tapping the side of your hip with two of his fingers. "up, c'mon. gotta help me now" and when you shakily lift yourself up from his lap, you hear the sound of a belt buckle and fabric being slid off skin. chris' hands are looping around your stomach gently to pull you back—ordering you gently to close your eyes. "trust me, i got you. you trust me, right?"

☆ . . . of course you trust chris.. which is why your eyes fall shut—letting the brunette pull you back and sink you down slowly onto his dick. except your eyes fly open the second his tip is nudging into your entrance, a shaky gasp falling from you as your hands grip at his wrists. "chris.. that—that hurts, y'know." except he ignores you, clicking his tongue in his mouth and slowly sinking you down further. maybe he should've stretched you out a little more, but god, he was so hard to the point it hurt.

☆ . . . once chris is fully sheathed inside you, he lets you adjust for as long as you need. he knows he's big, and he knows you've never had sex. you were gulping in big gasps of air like you were dying, even though it was fine... chris' hands rub comfortingly up and down your sides, rolling his eyes at how dramatic you were. "s'kay kid.. stop doin' that," "no, i feel full..."

☆ . . . when chris was finally able to move without you throwing a fit over how much it hurt or something, he's thrusting up gently and cursing under his breath. you've turned around just so you could hide your head in his shoulder if needed, and you do—burying your head into the crook of his neck and letting his hair tickle your skin.

☆ . . . chris isn't sure how long it's been but when you squeeze around him he knows you're cumming without you having to say it, and he almost busts his own load right then and there. biting down on his lower lip, he urges you off him when he's sure your orgasm had washed over you—shoving your shoulders down to get you on your knees between his legs.

☆ . . . chris knows you aren't on birth control or anything, so he opts for a quick lesson teaching you how to bob your head up and down his length until he cums over your pretty lil' face. surprisingly, for someone who's never sucked dick before, you were damn good at it. fitting whatever you could in your mouth and then wrapping your hands around whatever else was left, just like chris had told you.

☆ . . . he isn't the best at aftercare. you guys took a shower and he seemed so awkward, because normally the girl he just banged would be out the door in a few minutes. but you're his best friend, so he just pats the bed and you two watch a movie or something. cuddling always felt too intimate for him, never been one to initiate it or entertain it.

☆ . . . you don't complain much. sure, it would've been nice. well, it would've been really nice, but you were a little too scared to ask chris to hold you like you guys were dating. were you two dating now? probably not. you've never really seen chris with the same girl for more than three days straight, and he's told you a bunch how he hates labels. huh. so why is that pit of longing still stuck in your chest?

—

ur girl wrote this with a vicious nosebleed. i lowk need to write for matt more so some stuff for him is comin soon hopefully !!! after i finish all the reqs i got tho

@conspiracy-ash @sturniolosfavkayleigh @lvrsturniolo @st7rnioioss @meatballlover10 @ashlishes @ferdzom @55sturn @chriseatingmeoutin4k @unknvhx

©eph3merall 2024

[wilwheaton]

Hey man, I could use a few talking points to help convince a friend that Musk is horrible. I'm reading 'Think Again' by Adam Grant (good read btws) and he says to help convince people to come to your viewpoint that it can be good to have 2 or 3 strong points instead of 10 mixed points. The counter argument I get from people about Musk being good is that he did spacex and tesla, and without him we'd be decades behind. Maybe, but I don't have good ammo. Please help as I get too angry tobe critical

Well, listen, the fascism, the transphobia, the chaos, and the unwavering support for autocrats all over the planet really ought to be enough to outweigh anything else, if you ask me. It sounds like you know some people who got excited about the companies he threw money at, and they are having a tough time updating their feelings due to current events. Or maybe they share his values and don't want to admit that.

But I'll try to offer some simple facts.

He did not do engineering with Tesla or SpaceX or even PayPal. He is a fraud. He walked into these existing businesses, where people had done actual work and engineering, threw some of his Apartheid money at them, and took credit for their work. He claims, over and over again, to be a founder of these companies, and that's just straight up a lie that is easily disproved.

He literally did nothing except throw money at people and take credit for their work. Look at every Tesla up to the (chokes back laughter) Cybertruck. Those Teslas look like cars, because they were designed by engineers. Look at the Cybertruck. When you stop laughing at what a joke it is, know this: that's what happens when Elon Musk is in charge. It's like a ten year-old with some crayons drew it on a menu at Denny's.

All of the things his weird fans claim he made possible, are things that would have happened, and were in the process of happening, without him. He literally did nothing to advance the technologies or engineering. In fact, SpaceX whistleblowers have told reporters how they had to keep Musk occupied with bullshit, so they could do the real work without him fucking it up all the time with his incompetence.

But even if he were telling the truth, even if the myth were fact, it would not outweigh the damage, the pain, the chaos, and the suffering he has inflicted on millions and millions of people, all over the world with his lies, his spread of misinformation, and his incitement of angry incels.

Also, don't forget, when Ukraine was trying to defend itself, he turned off Starlink access when they could have decisively ended Russia's aggression. A lot of people have suffered and died as a direct consequence of that action, which he took to support his buddy and fellow autocrat, Vladimir Putin.

That's more information than I think your friends will be willing to hear. Studies indicate that people who are heavily invested in the myth of a person will fight hard to hold onto the myth, and reject truth and facts, because it's so jarring to them. Musk has built a cult of personality, and maybe your friends are stuck to it.

I'd gently encourage your friends to consider one key fact: he has lied about his entire origin story, he has lied about his contributions to Tesla and SpaceX. He lies about everything, except when he posts on Twitter like a 12 year-old edgelord, because that's who he is, emotionally.

Finally, and this is for you, specifically: if your friends insist on supporting a fascist, a racist, a misogynist, or a bigot, because they think rockets are cool, maybe it's time to look for new friends.

I hope this helps.

And fuck Elon Musk.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Sanemi finding out you pretended to be a boy in order to get trained properly and him falling head over heels for you after

Pairing: Sanemi x fem!reader

Word Count: 4,2k

Synopsis: If there's one thing you always hated, it was being underestimated. Because you're nothing but a petite girl in the eyes of every other demon slayer you stumbled upon with even the sound hashira going easy on you. They left you no choice but to pretend that you're a boy in order to finally get the training you deserve. Little did you know it will be the wind hashira himself who uncovers your dirty secret...

Warnings: it's Sanemi so language, the bonus scene is for those of you who are in desperate need of some spice (no direct smut), last part not proofread because this needs to be published and I'm tired lol

Thank you sooo much for that super cool request, @xxx-oneofthegirls-xxx, I hope you like what I came up with (also, you made me listen to one of the girls nonstop while writing this hehe)

You stare at your foreign reflection in the mirror, cheeks still burning. This looks ridiculous and you know it, your plan so plain and stupid that you regret your decision more and more with each passing second.

But you have to do this.

“Don’t overwork yourself, (y/n). You’ll rest here while the others run a few extra miles.”

“But Tengen-sama, I-“

“Here, let’s get you something to eat!”, Suma cried out.

“You’re overworking that poor woman, Tengen-sama”, Mako commented dryly.

“I already told her to take a break!”

Because without pretending that you’re a boy, they’ll never take you seriously. Not when you’re a petite girl, not when everyone treats you like porcelain because of your small frame and gender. You came her because you’re ready to fight, because being a demon slayer is your true destiny. You want to get trained hard, you urge to surpass yourself each and every day.

You stare at your eyes filled with determination in the mirror. Therefore, you need to make sure they see nothing but a normal boy in you. 

It’s hard to breathe properly with countless bandages tied around your chest in order to hide your feminine curves to their eyes. Carefully, you tie a ribbon around the ends of your hair and pull them up. Good, now your hair is about shoulder-length. A plain hairband that is convincing enough as a sweat band turns your usual longer hair into a temporary short cut.

Is this enough? Will the mist hashira actually believe you?

Confidently, you change into the uniform you stole from a boy nearby earlier and grab your katana. There is no other way than finding out.

“Where’s that little girl? Didn’t Tengen-sama allow her to continue?”

“Huh, you mean the little wallflower? I bet she gave up when she saw what hashira training really means. She wasn’t even strong enough to hold a sword.”

Your heart drops to the floor while your eyes automatically look down in panic and distress. Everyone underestimates you over the sheer fact that you’re a girl. But why? Why would you give up? Why is everyone thinking you aren’t strong enough when women like Shinobu Kocho show them how it’s done? You didn’t train since you were 4 to get reduced to your gender and height.

No, you’ll show them soon enough how good you really are and that you’re no one to be messed with.

“Look at him!”

“Who is that guy?”

“He fights as good as Tanjiro!”

“I’ve never seen him around. Do you know him?”

And you did. Training after training, hashira after hashira. Somehow, you surpassed them all. Despite your small frame, your disadvantage towards the boys with their ability to move freely in the scorching hot sun, you made it.

“It seems like you’re decent handling your sword. I have no use for you here anymore”, Obanai proclaims dryly.

You…you did it? You’ve been here for 3 days, spent the first day tied to a wall while getting smacked by some useless comrades. But you really convinced him, the serpent hashira, the man a lot of the others were so afraid of.

Your heart jumps up and down in excitement. You convinced him.

“Thank you”, you mumble in reply with deepened voice.

“Let’s see how you’ll keep up with Shinazugawa. Now get lost.”

Shinazugawa? You’ve heard that name before. Is this…the wind hashira? Your eyes widen as you sprint down the forest in the merciless sun. If Iguro Obanai is considered rough, Sanemi Shinazugawa has to be a menace. You heard from countless slayers that went back home as soon as they arrived at his estate, some beaten up so badly that they needed treatment.

For days.

You swallow hard. If this man finds out that you’re not who you pretend to be, you’ll be dead. But you have no other choice. After everything you’ve been through, you won’t give up because of the wind hashira’s bad reputation.

“How’s training going?”, Sanemi mumbles while staring into the distance.

“All of them are trash. There’s only one that is decent, though”, Obanai replies dryly.

“Don’t tell me it’s that Kamado brat-“

“No, I’ve never seen that boy before. No one seems to know who he is. He’s pretty small for his age and acts even weirder than the others but I can’t deny that he’s skilled. Even Kanroji…praised him”, Obanai presses out.

He’ll definitely never forget you for taking up the space of a full hand-written site in her note to him.

“You all went too easy on him, then. I’ll mop the floor with his ass when he gets to me.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Your breath gets stuck in your throat. There it is, the estate of the wind hashira. Only him and the stone hashira are left. Only these two until you’re able to drop your false identity and use your newest skills in a real fight. When you’re done here, you’ll finally be able to protect your village properly. No demon will ever hurt your friends and family again.

You just have to get through a few more days of training. A few more days with the wind hashira…

-two days later-

“Get lost, brats”, Sanemi barks out in sheer frustration.

Are these losers really supposed to be useful in a fight against Kibutsuji? They aren’t even good enough to hold their wooden sword correctly, let alone find the right stance to fight. God, this is such a waste of time, so fucking annoying that he smashes his own wooden sword into the ground roughly.

“Fucking useless rabble”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

When his blurry sight catches yours, he’s even more infuriated. He really thought the other pillars were too gentle with you. You, with your thin and small frame, with your innocent eyes that almost make you look like a girl. And while you look like the biggest loser of this whole corps, you manage to fight better than all the others.

“Enough of this bullshit, we’re using real swords now”, Sanemi barked at you while already grabbing his sharp katana.

“Fine.”

You didn’t storm towards him, didn’t act out of confidence or rage. You stayed so calm that Sanemi didn’t know how to act for the split of a second.

The split of a second. This minor moment was enough for you to lift your blade and scratch his cheek ever so slightly.

“Did he…Just hit the wind hashira?”

“This can’t be true. A strange guy like him, hitting one of the most powerful demon slayers?”

“You…You have some fucking nerve, little brat! I’ll make you pay for this!”

Oh, how often he tormented you. Made you stand up in the middle of the night for a fight, forced you to stand up against all your comrades. He pushed you over your limit over and over, made you suffer in a way he never did before.

But you still stand your ground. Still, you grab your wooden sword and follow the others inside at dawn as if nothing happened.

And it simply drives him insane.

“You, little brat!”

“Yes, Shinazugawa-sama?”

Your guts turn in an instant. In contrast to the other hashira training, this feels like a trip to hell and back. It almost seems as if the wind hashira made it his mission to let you suffer more than anyone else. What have you done to deserve his anger? Did you act out of line, aloof? It has to be the fact that you injured his cheek during your fight…

“Never mind. Get out of my sight.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. Instantly, you turn on your heels and make your way to dinner. Maybe you’ll finally have to chance to wash yourself tonight. With all those unexpected training sessions and the wind hashira torturing you until far past midnight, you didn’t even find the time to take a bath. Urgh, you can’t wait to finally take those bandages off and to wash your itchy scalp. All that sweating without the relief of a jump in the cool lake nearby is definitely hard to endure.

But tonight. Tonight you’ll finally get the chance to escape the merciless gaze of Sanemi Shinazugawa.

He doesn’t know what keeps him up tonight. Is it the full moon that lights his room, his still enraged heart? It’s still hard to believe that you’re acting up like this, that you manage to hit him. Out of all the jerks he trained, why does it have to be the smallest and therefore weakest one?

Maybe all he needs is letting his anger out on you. Sanemi storms into the dormitory wearing nothing but a casual yukata. He might hunt you around the lake for a few rounds or lets you practice your sword bows until you turn blue-

But his eyes don’t get greeted by your hair sticking out underneath you’re blanket.

“Where the hell are you, brat?”, he hisses to himself.

“This feels like heaven”, you moan to yourself while you dip your head into the cool water.

You never cared about getting covered in mud or dried blood sticking to your skin. But oh, the feeling of cleaning yourself up again after a rough day is just unmatched. Gently, your fingers brush through your wet hair, free yourself from all the dirt of those last days.

When will you be able to return? After that, only the stone hashira is left. How did you manage to land all the way over here? Hiding behind the identity of a boy no one know in order to get treated equally. Your efforts were definitely worth it. With those countless new techniques you’ve learned, you’ll finally be able to stand up against the demons that haunt down your village on a regular basis. Finally, you’ve got the education you deserved.

“You have to be fucking kidding me.”

All color drains from your face in an instant. You don’t have to look past his knees to know who stays right in front of you. Why didn’t you hear him coming? How did he manage to show up in front of you without you noticing?

“S-Shinazuwaga-sama”, you breathe out.

It doesn’t matter how he found you. With your hair open and your upper body barely covered by the water, he already saw through your well-hidden secret. Or better said, your lie.

“You’re so dead.”

You can’t escape. In the matter of seconds, he is with you in the water and grabs your wrists roughly.

“You lied into our faces this whole time?”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

“I had to-“

“You’re nothing but a little girl!”

“You left me-“

“What else do you have to hide? Are you even a demon slayer? I’m totally in the mood to kill you right on the spot-“

“YOU LEFT ME NO CHOICE”, you finally blurt out.

“No choice? Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

“Tengen-sama treated me like porcelain because I’m a woman, but I didn’t want that! I wanted to train like the boys do, I wanted to suffer like everyone else! How am I supposed to become a decent swordswoman when everyone goes easy on me because of my gender!?”

“You…You lied to us.”

“I did.”

“You aren’t a guy.”

“I’m not.”

Thick silence hangs between both of you, only interrupted by sharp and heavy breaths. What now? Will he send you away in dishonor or even worse, exclude you from the corps completely? You’ve worked so hard to even get accepted, poured your heart and soul into those past days. All of this, vanishing in thin air?

“Please don’t send me away”, you finally press out.

“Are you dumb? Ain’t no way I’m letting you stay-“

“I can’t return home in dishonor. I did all of this to be able to protect my family and village. If I return home like this…”

You can’t finish your sentence, your throat suddenly feeling so tight that you even fail to breathe.

“Get out of my sight.”

“But I-“

“I said get out of my sight!”, he screams on top of his lungs.

You flinch backwards and almost trip into the water. Talking doesn’t do much. If you’re not leaving the next few seconds, he might drown you.

With a heavy heart you leave the water, carefully hiding behind a tree until you’re fully dressed again.

“What’s your real name?”, he shouts towards you harshly.

“My name is (y/n)”, you mutter, not daring to look into his cold eyes.

And then you stumble back. Back into the dormitory you know so well by now. Back into what might be the last night at the demon slayer corps for you.

“Remember that skilled guy you told me about?”, Sanemi mumbles while staring at the ground.

“Yeah. What about him?”

“It’s not him. She’s a fucking girl that pretended to be a guy.”

It still feels like a feverish dream. Why did nobody realize sooner? Not even himself…God, he’s such an idiot for not throwing you out instantly. You lied straight into his face, you lied to the whole demon slayer corps all this time. You deserve to leave, you deserve all that hatred and disgust.

“That’s actually quite impressive. How did you find out?”, Obanai comments dryly.

“I caught her bathing. Said she didn’t want to get differently because she’s a girl.”

Just the thought of seeing you there lit by nothing but moonlight, your long hair draped like a veil around you and your female curves he didn’t even know existed…

“That are some unexpected news. Do the others know?”

“I won’t tell ‘em. I’ll kick her out the corps when I return.”

“Why kicking her out? No matter if boy or girl, you can’t deny she’s the most promising one until now. Why not keeping her?”

“Keeping her?”, Sanemi repeats in sheer disbelief.

“Ain’t no way I’ll ever speak to a filthy little liar like her again.”

“Her plan worked, though. And I hate to admit it, but she did pretty good.”

Sanemi’s furious eyes dart towards Obanai in nothing but frustration. You fooled every single hashira until now. You hold so much potential that eventually…Would you survive as his tsugoko?

“I’ll leave”, he finally speaks out before turning his back on Obanai and storming away.

What the hell is he supposed to do?

How utterly dumb you feel sitting on that porch with your wet hair still open in the cool breeze far past midnight. You have no idea where he went, if he’s out to inform the head of the corpse about your behavior or even worse, your own family. Is it too early to pack your few belongings, to leave before he comes back? You definitely can’t stand another round of getting yelled at by the wind hashira.

“What are you doing here outside, brat?”

Fuck. He steps out of the darkness like an unpromising shadow with his face as hard as stone.

“I can’t sleep anyway”, you murmur.

“I’m so fucking mad at you for shitting me like this. Pretending you’re a guy while you’re just a girl.”

“I’m not just a girl”, you clarify sharply.

“Shut the fuck up. You’re a lying little brat but-“

He takes a deep breath in while sitting down next to you.

“But you’ve got what it takes. I’ve been looking for a decent tsugoko for quite some time now and-“

You can’t believe your ears. This man can’t possibly be the wind hashira you know by now, the man who looked like he’ll drown you any minute just a few hours ago. He can’t suggest to take you in as his tsugoko, right? There’s absolutely no way this man wants to train you on a regular basis-

“And maybe you’re that decent fit.”

Oh.

“Me, as your tsugoko”, you repeat his words in order to make them sound real.

“I’ll still kick your ass for lying into my face like that, though”, he adds aggressively.

Never in your life would you ever dreamed of being the apprentice of a hashira. You always worked hard, always made sure to develop your skills with everything you do, but being considered a tsugoko? Of the wind hashira, who never takes in a student? Who seems so rough and cruel but allowed you to handle your katana even better?

“I’d love that”, you finally breathe out.

“I’m beyond thankful you’re e-“

“Shut up immediately. A yes is enough. You’ll stay here with me, then.”

“Y-yes, Shinazugawa-sama!”

“No go to sleep, I can’t beat your ass when you’re tired”, he mumbles before getting up and leaving while your feelings are still over the place.

You, the tsugoko of Sanemi Shinazugawa?

-a few months later-

“Gimme your best shot now, brat!”, he barks at you.

Sweat runs down your forehead like a waterfall, your heavy panting tasting like blood. Just one more hit, one more strike and you’ll get him.

“Thunder breathing, fourth form-“

“Too slow”, he comments next to your ear.

Within the split of a second, you find yourself just inches away from the dirty ground with Sanemi’s arms keeping you from falling.

“Still not fast enough. Do it again.”

Mindlessly, he still drops you into the dirt with his sword casually draped over his shoulder.

You lift yourself off the ground with trembling limbs. There you are again, deep within your trip to hell and back. What you expected when agreeing on being the tsugoko of Sanemi Shinazugawa?

You grab the handle of your sword even tighter and storm towards just like you did hundreds of times before with the smallest of smiles creeping up your features.

Well, exactly that.

-steaming hot bonus: meeting in the lake at night-

You allow the cool water to caress your countless wounds gently. How good it feels to finally bathe every single day instead of once every few days. When the truth came out and everyone started to realize that you aren’t a boy, you regained a part of your freedom along with the merciless training of the wind hashira. Each and every day, he tortured you and others with his cruel training methods before you slide into the lake before the sun sets and go straight back to sleep.

Not today, though. It has to be almost midnight by now, the stars in the sky glimmering so magnificent that you can’t look away. Sanemi allowed you to visit your family and friends today. As you have learned, demon attacks have subsided since the sister of Tanjiro Kamado mastered the sun. And even though that means your loved ones will be safe, you can’t deny the slight turn of your guts. This means a war is around the corner, that Muzan Kibutsuji himself might come for all of you.

But this is nothing you should think about now. Not when you just returned and desperately longed for a bath. You dip your head into the cold water, moan to yourself as the water surrounds you fully-

“What the hell are you doing here, brat?”

Sanemi.

Out of instinct you cry out while burying everything except for your head inside the dark water. You’re butt-naked. How long has he been here already? And…has he seen you? Suddenly your whole body feels hot against the cool water around, cheeks turning dark red.

“Calm down, idiot-“

“How long have you been here already!?”

“What? I’m always taking a bath around this time. You’re the one who shouldn’t be here”, he clarifies dryly.

There he stands. Droplets of water run down his bare chest and almost make him shimmer in the moonlight. His wet hair stick to his face so delicately that you can’t force yourself to look away. He looks…hot.

Hot?

“I-uh…I just returned from…home”, you stutter.

“Hope your family is fine”, he mumbles along with slicking his hair back.

Within these past months, you’ve caught a glimpse of Sanemi you’ve never witnessed before. This man isn’t as cruel as everybody makes him look, his words aren’t always meant as harsh as they sound. Sanemi has a very tender side. Especially when his eyes soften for the blink of a moment, you couldn’t help but feel lost.

“They are. Apparently, the incidents with demons involved lessened when I departed”, you press out.

God, you’re acting ridiculous and you know it. Sanemi is your teacher, your training partner. Even though you’re living under the same roof (he even gave you an own room), there aren’t any romantical feelings between both of you.

“Good to hear. I’ll let you rest a little tomorrow morning. You have to be dead tired.”

“I’m fine”, you lie in an instant.

Truth is, you’re so drained out that the water is the only thing that’s able to keep your knees for failing you at the moment. Not only from your journey, but all those countless harsh training sessions, dueling yourself over and over with Sanemi and the others. But you’d never admit it, would never say it out loud.

“You’re probably the baddest liar out there. Your cheeks are red as hell, (y/n)”, Sanemi comments dryly.

You don’t dare to move when he stretches out his hand. Enough to gently caress your cheek, enough to cause an explosion in your stomach.

Did Sanemi just touch you? Tenderly?

“I…N-no…I…”

You can’t find the words. In fact, you are too distracted to care about something like words. Slowly but surely, he draws closer with his perfectly formed chest exposed to your hungry eyes.

“(y/n), I…There’s actually something I wanted…Well…Fuck!”

Is that really Sanemi Shinazugawa, stumbling over his own words? And why is it him who’s blushing at the moment?

These past few months made it really easy for you to actually respect the wind hashira. Not only his frightful skills when handling the sword, but just him. Him, when he’s brushing the fur of the cat that visits his estate from time to time. Him, when he tucks you into your blanket when assuming you’re already asleep. Him, when checking on you in his own unique way.

How ridiculous to even think about him like that, to even allow your heart to jump up and down in joy. But you can’t help yourself. Despite the way you despised him when the two of you first met, you really started to love this man with all your heart.

“(y/n), you’re a pretty decent women”, he begins again while drawing closer.

“Well, I…Thank you?”

A decent woman? Is that what he thinks about you?

“I still can’t believe you lied to me about being a girl, though”, he barks at you.

Oh.

You hate the way your heart drops. Were you really dumb enough so think he might have something to say, that he might tell you he has feelings for you as well? How ridiculous, how absolutely dumb.

“I think I should get going. It’s been a long day”, you mumble.

It’s probably the best to get away from here as soon as possible. But just when you start moving towards the shore, his hand grabs your arm tightly and twirls you around.

Right against his bare chest.

“Don’t you dare leaving now, brat”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

“I…there’s something I wanna tell you…”

“Why are you acting like a child?”, you finally spit at him yourself.

Oh, you’re having enough of all those ups and downs. Especially today, when you’re totally drained out already. You really don’t have the nerve for him to pick on you again, not when his last statement lies like a heavy stone in your stomach-

“Acting like a child?”, he challenges you.

Just before his lips crash into yours.

Longingly, Sanemi wraps his strong arms around you, devours you against his body while all you’re able to do is holding onto his broad shoulders for dear life.

This…is really happening, right? This is really Sanemi, pressing his lips against yours over and over again while your naked skin brushes against his?

“You’re fucking driving me insane, brat”, he mumbles against your lips before grabbing you even tighter.

“Since the moment I realized you aren’t a boy.”

He grabs you by your waist firmly, your naked skin rubbing against his sixpack almost making you lose everything that’s left of your self-control.

“I can’t get you out of my head.”

Your hands wander around his biceps, feel the deep valleys of his muscular back. God, this feels so good – almost too good to be true. But even if this is nothing but a dream, you’ll enjoy every minor movement, every sweet moment until you open your eyes again.

But when you do, you don’t find yourself in the comforting darkness of your room. No, his eyes glimmer like molten iron when staring down at you in the moonlight, his hot breath brushing against your wet face so seductive that you threaten to lose your balance.

“Still saying I’m acting like a child, brat?”

[mulloey]

hunted • yunho

it’s all a game, he says. you’re desperate to play.

yunho x fem!reader

words: 4.7k

warnings: extremely dark kinks, heavy consensual non consent (cnc), dubcon at some points though you have a safeword, internet hookups (don’t), unprotected sex (don’t), the word ‘rape’ is used, hard dom!yunho, fear play, glove kink, choking, impact play, knife play, under-negotiated kink, size kink, painful sex, sir kink, you’re referred to within the scene as a victim and a sex slave, explicit threats of bodily harm and death in the context of cnc, mind break possibly, aftercare, crying etc

you’ve been appropriately warned of the content ahead. click out if you are uncomfortable. this is not safe to do irl. hate is blocked.

-

You don’t know where else to turn.

It’s been on your mind for a while— this fantasy. This game. You don’t know why, or how, and you’d never, ever admit it, but it plagues your thoughts, day after day, haunting your dreams night after night without respite. You’re too ashamed to even say it.

You never told any of your previous partners; you’d hint, maybe, suggesting weaker, milder things to nudge them the right direction, but they always shied away, got scared about three miles south of what you actually wanted, and ran screaming. You know it’s wrong. If anything, the fact that they ran away should have been a green flag. But it wasn’t. Not to you.

You make the account around 3am. Your username is nondescript, profile photo grainy and blurred, showing just enough to attract someone who might be able to do this for you. You write the post with trembling hands; the words come easier to you than you’ll ever admit.

I want to be forced. I want to be raped. I want to be punished for resisting. I imagine a stranger, maybe one I’d only seen in passing. He can’t get enough of me. He needs me. He’ll have me. He follows me wherever I’m going, lying in wait. It doesn’t matter how much I resist. I’m going to be his. He. Will. Have. Me.

As expected, your phone is blown up by the time you check it. Hundreds of old, gross, sleazy men desperate to get a taste of your — shudder — young pussy, as one called it. You hadn’t given a specific age, just that you’re in your 20s, but they all seem content to run with the idea of you being on the lower end, rather than the higher. Perverts.

You scroll through the messages. each one confirming the rational part of your brain that says this is a stupid, dangerous idea and you should forget you ever even had it.

It’s the one at the bottom that stops you. Sent not long after you’d gone to sleep, but they’d liked the post almost instantly. The profile picture is like yours — grainy, blurred, but suggesting a toned, young-ish, large body — and he too is in his 20s, if he’s telling the truth. His message is short and respectful— a breath of fresh air.

youknowme: Nice post. Do you really want that, or do you just like imagining it?

You bite your lip. You don’t know why, but this person feels… different. Exciting. You want to know more.

rosedepths: i really want it. can you give it to me?

youknowme: I could. Would you take it all?

You chuckle— you know what he means, but you figure you’ll have some fun. See if he’s expecting a sweet, scared little doe who’ll be quick to submit; or if he’s expecting a fight. If he’s expecting you.

rosedepths: nope.

The typing button appears and disappears a few times. You assume he doesn’t like your response, and he’s not as exciting a match as you’d hoped, until his next message comes through.

youknowme: Yes, you will.

Oh, fuck. You feel yourself leaking as you read it over and over. You’re desperate to know more.

rosedepths: have you done this before? raping a stranger?

youknowme: I hope you’re talking about CNC, Rose. If you are, then yes. I have.

rosedepths: you any good at it?

youknowme: I’ve subdued much feistier things than you. I can give you what you’re asking for. Do you want it?

The need in your stomach is so profound you think you could keel over. You’ve never found it easier to type something out.

rosedepths: yes.

You talk until you sleep, and you’re optimistic about this guy. He’s careful and meticulous with your kinks and limits, guiding you through the details while still retaining the mystery and allure you’re craving. Despite your protests, he insists on a safeword, but assures you that that’s ‘the only thing in the world that will stop him.’

As you become more familiar with this site, designed solely for this purpose it seems, you see this man is… popular. To say the least. He even has what looks like a review section from other women he’s fucked and oh, there’s pictures. Not of him— but of the deep bruises and stinging cuts he’s left behind. You click through the reviews, pupils dilating the longer you stare the screen down.

He fucked me so good.

He put me in my place.

He’s brutal.

No one’s ever made me cry like that. Or cum.

When he proposes a meeting, you don’t think twice.

By the time next Friday rolls around, the knot in your stomach is a constant; it follows you around, heavy and aching as it trails behind every step. You know it’s just nerves, excitement, the thrill of knowing you’re about to do something very, very wrong. But some part of you does wonder if it’s doubt— are you being stupid? Is this a bad idea? Well, yes. You are and it is. But is it… too bad? You don’t know. As the clock ticks slowly towards your ‘appointment’, you feel more and more anxious to find out.

You clock out at 5, hurrying down the stairs of your office building to dash home. You’d prepared your bag already, shaved this morning and placed your fanciest, laciest set of lingerie under your work clothes. You take a second to freshen up, touch up your makeup and dump your work bag on your bed before you’re hurrying out the door again.

The hotel he’d booked is downtown, shiny and new and well beyond your price range. You wonder for a moment what this man does for work. Your knowledge of him is very, very limited— by design, of course. This whole game, this whole exercise hinges on him being a total stranger. But still, you can’t help but be curious. The one clue you have is the name the room was booked under— Yunho. You must have said it to yourself a thousand times; trying it out, the sound, the feeling. It tastes tantalising on your tongue and you’re bubbling with need by the time you make it to your room.

You hesitate when you reach the door. He’d told you he’d arrive later, at an undetermined time, but you can’t help but wonder. Is he in there, lying in wait? Will you open the door to find him sat on the bed, or hidden behind a corner, or, your heart races at the thought, right there on the other side? You breathe, in, out, in, out. You can do this. There’s nothing you could find on the other side of the door that you wouldn’t beg for another day.

You’re almost disappointed when you walk into the room to find it totally empty. You check the bathroom, the corners, the cupboards, half hoping to find him looming there, waiting to strike. But you don’t. You sigh, sitting down on the bed and sliding off your shoes. You’re not really sure what to do now. You suppose you could touch yourself, you doubt he’d blame you for being excited, but over the past few days, without realising you’ve found yourself almost saving yourself for him; each time your hands had wandered down there, you’d stopped yourself. He’ll take care of it.

Sighing, you decide to turn on the TV, flicking lazily through the channels until you find something that entertains you until he arrives.

With every unexplained noise, every creaking of a neighbour’s door, you look up eagerly, hoping to see Yunho looming in the doorway. But you don’t. Hours go by, your hope fading more and more, until you accept that he’s just not coming tonight. Tomorrow, maybe. You hope.

By the time you’re ready to sleep, you’ve passed several hours in front of the mindless reality show you ended up settling on. Trying to ignore the crushing disappointment that Yunho hasn’t shown up today, and the fear that he never will, you turn the TV off and settle into the sheets.

He’ll come tomorrow. He has to.

Eyes adjusting to the darkness, you make yourself comfortable in the cool, fresh sheets. The only sounds in the quiet room are your slow, steady breaths and the low hum of the air-conditioning. As your eyes begin to droop, you feel yourself relaxing into the memory foam, wondering and hoping he’ll be there when you wake up…

Click.

There’s a hand on your mouth. The lights are on.

Your eyes snap open and your body jolts, adrenaline flowing instantly. The hand is large, covering your mouth and nose and you can’t breathe.

As you adjust to the light you get a good look at him, and you’re so shocked that for a moment you forget you’re supposed to struggle. Yunho is gorgeous. Fading blue hair, dark enough to seem black from a distance; features gentle, eyes dangerous and all blending perfectly together. He’s wearing a white shirt and pinstripe waistcoat that struggles against a broad, toned chest that seems to be trying to escape and his large hands are covered by a pair of thick, leather gloves.

Fuck. You’d beg for this man any other day, happily and eagerly. But you can’t do that now. You have to fight. You thrash against him, legs flailing but his body holds you down, pinning you in place and oh, he’s large, too. He could incapacitate you now and be done with it, but it seems he wants to play.

“Well, aren’t you sweet.”

His voice is low and rough and addictive, dripping with want and danger. He stares you down, eyes narrowed, blank, burning.

“Gonna be a good girl for me?”

The pressure of his hand has eased enough for you to breathe and you lie still for a moment, gauging your next move. You nod, slowly. I’ll be good.

He smiles, not really believing you, and then his hands are off you. For one second, they’re off of you and you take your chance— you jump up and bolt out of the bed, dashing in the direction of the door. You hear him curse, but you know he’d chosen this room, large enough to practically count as a suite, specifically to give you more room to run. And run you do; you’re still half-asleep — you’re not quite sure if you did fall asleep, in the end, or if he got to you just as you were drifting off — but the adrenaline pumping through your veins is enough to carry your feet towards the exit.

You hear him on your tail but he’s not running— no, his steps are leisurely, like he knows he’s going to catch you and is merely amused by your idea that it would end any other way.

He lets you get to the door and pull it halfway open, just enough to think you’ll make it out into the hall, before it slams shut in your face, only just missing your fingers where they’d lingered in the doorway. Then there’s strong arms on your body, slamming you with full force, your body colliding painfully with the heavy wood. You struggle pitifully in his hold and as the lock clicks shut above you, you hear the barely restrained anger in his voice.

“And where the fuck are you going, bitch?” He growls. He grabs your hair and tugs your head backwards, sending a painful sting through your scalp then slams your head back against the door. “You tryna get away, pretty girl?”

You grunt, pushing back against him as hard as you can, but with his firm grip on you all you manage to do is push your ass back against his crotch. He groans, the grip on your hair tightening. “Fucking tease,” he mutters. “Bet you’re wet already.”

He spins you around, holding you by the neck against the door, his body caging you in as his other hand roams across your breasts, squeezing them just short of painfully. You struggle fruitlessly but you’re completely trapped and you know it.

You feel his knee nudging at your closed legs, clenched together to keep him away from your heat as if it’s not aching for him already. “Open,” he says.

“Never.”

“Fine.” His leg draws back and lands a kick between your knees and you yelp, legs forced apart; he shoves his thigh into the gap, holding your legs open and your pussy exposed as his hand runs up your bare thigh and slips beneath the silk slip you curse yourself for wearing to bed. Could you have made this any easier for him?

His fingers tease the edge of your cotton panties, pulling it back and slapping the elastic against your skin and all you can do is stay in place, held under his weight as he toys with you. But you’re not done and this isn’t over. You’re just biding your time. You just need an opportunity; a moment of carelessness for you to slip away.

He runs a finger softly across your covered pussy, and the smug expression on his face tells you exactly what he finds there.

“For someone who doesn’t want this,” he says, “you’re awfully fucking wet.”

“Fuck you,” you spit.

He’s quick to react; a heavy slap lands on your face, turning your head forcefully to the side and leaving a lingering ache.

“Wet and mouthy,” he says. “I wonder how quickly you’ll break.”

Your stomach twists but you give nothing away; you’re enjoying the back and forth, the game, too much to give up yet, no matter how desperately you want him to just fuck you alrady.

“I’ll never fucking break,” you snap.

“Oh, you’ll break.” He leans in closer, enough for you to feel his breath on your face as he speaks. “They always do.”

You can hear your heart beating wildly, pounding against your ribs and your breath stutters. “And if I don’t?”

“If you don’t…” He lets the words hang in the air, gaze flickering across your shivering form. His mouth curls into a thin smile. “I’ll just have to hurt you real, real bad.”

You swallow thickly, tension caught in your throat. You wish that didn’t sound so enticing.

“Now,” he says. “Open your mouth.”

You force yourself to laugh, amused despite your terror by the notion that you’d just give in and obey. You purse your lips, sealing your mouth shut— directly defiant. His eyes flash and his hand tightens around your throat, cutting off your airflow as he presses down on the sides of your neck. You manage to hold out for a few seconds until you feel your eyes bulge and you gasp, mouth opening in a desperate bid for air. He loosens his grip, grabbing your chin and pushing his thumb in just far enough to hold your mouth open for him to spit into it. The saliva lands on your tongue and he pushes your mouth closed, pressing his hand over your mouth and nose again. “Swallow.”

Knowing he won’t let you breathe until you do, you swallow the spit; it feels disgusting and degrading sliding down your throat but the humiliation burns with pleasure and you’re desperate for more.

“Good girl,” he smiles. “Not that hard to listen, is it?”

You scowl, squirming under his hold. Yes, it is that hard. You manage to wring your arms free enough to grab at his arm, trying to pull his hand off of your face. In the panic one of your nails digs into his forearm and he growls, pulling you forward just to slam you backwards again. Your ears are ringing and his hand is pressed even tighter across your mouth and nose.

“Disobedient little bitch,” he hisses, “you want me to fuck you up?”

Yes, fuck, please, your mind says. But you keep that on the inside, and instead of begging or submitting or doing any of the things your body is screaming and pleading for you to do, you bite down. You bite down hard.

The taste of blood is a small victory as he shouts, snatching his hand away from you but this time he doesn’t give you the chance to get away; you make it a few steps before he grabs your wrists, clutching them easily in his injured hand, forcing them behind you back and twisting them painfully to hold you in place so he can backhand you again— and again, and again. You scream in pain, but if he notices, he doesn’t care. His expression is livid, eyes black and burning with rage. “Fucking. Little. Bitch.” Each word is punctuated by a hard slap, knocking the wind out of you over and over.

“Someone needs to put you in your fucking place,” he growls. “Dumb little sex slave.”

The word hits you somewhere deep, stomach twisting into knots as wetness pools. Slave. Fuck.

“I’m not your fucking sex slave,” you bite back and he laughs.

“You don’t know what the fuck you are. Stop squirming.” He twists your arms a little further, teetering on the edge of too far. You whine, straining against him and he cooes. “Hurts, baby?”

“Yes it fucking hurts,” you snap.

He snorts, amused. His eyes darken again as he leans in closer. “Any more attitude and I’ll fucking break them.”

You can’t help the gasp that escapes you, fear pushing through your veins again. His grip on your arms is iron and you know he could snap them with ease. But would he really? You say nothing, staring up at him with wide, pleading eyes. He grins.

“Don’t think I won’t,” he laughs. “I’ll break every bone in your body if it’ll keep you pliant.”

“I’ll do it one by one,” he continues. His grip on your wrists tightens again but he doesn’t twist any further; still toeing the line. “Nice and slow so you feel it all,” he smiles, and you know he’s imagining it as he speaks. You wish you could say you weren’t. “Let you hear the crack of each bone snapping in half until you’re completely destroyed. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You shake your head, voice quivering. “No.”

“Good.”

You scowl, squirming again to show your displeasure. “Let me go, Yunho.”

He hadn’t told you what to call him, but you decide to take a gamble that he doesn’t want you using his name and you’re right— he grabs your neck, pressing down hard enough to make you dizzy. “Call me that again,” he hisses, “and I’ll slit your fucking throat. Got it?”

You catch the whimper before it leaves your throat but you can’t stop your pussy from leaking even more than it already was. You didn’t know you could be so terrified or so horny. But you’re not giving up yet.

“You call me sir,” he says, “is that clear?”

You smile thinly. “Yes, sir,” you say, so sweet and polite that he sees right through it. He raises an eyebrow, waiting for your next move and it comes in the form of a wad of spit, landing like a bullet between his eyes.

Then you’re on the bed. You’re landing on the bed, shoved down and he’s crawling over you, holding you down with his weight and— there’s a knife on your throat.

Your eyes widen, all your blood rushing to your head at once. A knife… he’d never mentioned a knife. On your profile you’d said you were open to knife play, but he was so meticulous when he went through all the kinks he was planning that you thought… Well, you didn’t think he’d have a knife.

“Oh, that got your attention, didn’t it?” He grins. There’s a fire, a dangerous gleam in his eyes that hadn’t been there before and you feel it in the deepest parts of your body. You feel something else, too, and it burns just as brightly as your arousal. As he presses the knife down just enough to sting, you realise you are genuinely, truly afraid of Yunho. And yet…

Yunho sees it too; “fucking gushing,” he spits. “You’re more sick than I am. Don’t act like a victim now.”

You whine, squirming slightly and he hums thoughtfully.

“Or do,” he decides. “Actually, I’m sort of hoping you don’t do what I tell you. I’d love to watch the light leave your eyes when you finally stop struggling.”

Your breath hitches, caught in your throat. You don’t… you don’t know how you feel about this. You knew he’d be intense; the reviews had painted a clear picture of just how much he feeds off of fear. But there’s a wild, uncontrolled look in his eyes as he threatens your life so casually, so smoothly, that makes you wonder…

No. You know it’s fake. It’s all fake. You know it’s just a game and you know he’d stop if you said the safe word he gave you. But the knife at your neck is real. The darkness in his eyes is real. The fear is real. And he sees it in your eyes, his lips twitching into a small smile as though he can tell the exact moment you accept it. “Good girl,” he purrs. “Are you ready to listen?”

You say nothing, glowering up at him. He smiles, tilting his head.

“Open your mouth.”

Fuck no. This isn’t over. You meet his eyes with your mouth firmly, resoundingly shut. You purse your lips for good measure, determined to disobey.

His hand collides with your face again; the back of it, this time, and the feeling of his knuckles against your cheek makes you cry out before you can stop yourself. He seizes the opportunity of your parted lips and plunges two gloved fingers into your mouth. You choke, spluttering and he tuts, looking disappointed. Even with fingers in your throat, you feel like a naughty, scolded child beneath his firm gaze.

“See,” he says, his voice low, “I could make this so much worse for you. It’s in your best interest to do what I tell you.”

His fingers push in deeper and you feel the bile rising; you thrash and panic in his hold and he snorts, finally easing up. As you gasp for breath, he pulls his fingers away, a string of drool following him from your mouth and coating his fingers. He wipes them down on his pressed pants, looking disgusted. “Fucking mutt,” he spits. “Let’s put you to good use.”

Before you can register what’s happening, his dick is pushing into your mouth and fuck he’s massive. You can hardly hold him in your throat and your vision blurs with tears even before he starts to move— when he does, he wastes no time starting slow; he goes straight to fucking your mouth with hard, deep thrusts and you feel your tears and saliva cascading down onto your chest. You must look disgusting, but you’ve never heard anyone sound as feral as he does.

Just as you’re getting used to the feeling, he pulls out. His cock slaps against your face before he flips you over, bending you painfully over the edge of the bed. He doesn’t waste time prepping you — not that he needs to with the way you’re dripping — before forcing himself into your tight hole. You scream, feeling yourself being torn apart and he laughs, pushing your head into the mattress. “Fucking bitch,” he growls. His low voice is barely heard above the slapping of his skin on yours and the lewd squelching of your sopping pussy. You burn with humiliation but you can hardly think of anything but the pain of being stretched open and the force of his thrusts. You sob into the sheets but he doesn’t care, only getting rougher each time you cry out.

“Take it,” he barks, “you’ve been waiting for this dick your entire fucking life. So fucking take it.”

“S-sir,” you gasp. You thrash as much as you can under his iron grip, dizzy with pain and pleasure.

He snarls, hand landing hard on your ass. “Drop the act, bitch,” he growls. “I know you fucking love this. Clench.”

Still sobbing, you do your best to obey, clenching your pussy around his dick and it sends a jolt of electricity through your body. He groans, movement stuttering slightly under the new pressure on his dick.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “Such a pretty little victim. With a tight fucking hole.”

You feel his orgasm approaching; all the pent-up energy and frustration of fighting and subduing you pulsing through his dick as it pounds against your walls. His grip tightens on your waist, other arm coming to wrap around your neck, holding you in a chokehold as he finally releases inside you.

He grunts and moans through his orgasm and you feel the warmth of his cum filling you up before he finally collapses on top of you, pulling out quickly.

“Good girl,” he breathes. “It’s over, baby.”

The dam breaks. Your low, desperate sobs give way to full blown weeping, your whole body shivering with each cry. A million emotions, previously drowned out by pain and fear and pleasure, are suddenly at the surface, pushing against your skin and desperate to break through. You couldn’t name or number them if you tried but you don’t have to, because Yunho is there— his hands are on your skin, voice in your ear as he soothes you with whispered words you can’t comprehend.

“I’ve got you,” you finally make out. He says it again and again, over and over. It forms a familiar rhythm you can follow and cling to as you come back down to earth.

I’ve got you.

I’ve got you.

I’ve got you.

He’s there when the fog clears, cradling your aching body in his arms. His smile is soft and fond but there’s a concern in his eyes as he looks you up and down. “How do you feel?” He asks.

You open your mouth but no words come; you make a soft, content-sounding noise, the best you can do for now, and he chuckles. “I’ll take that as ‘you’re fine’, then.”

He shifts slightly, adjusting you to hold you closer to his chest. You follow his heartbeat as it thuds lowly in his chest. You hadn’t expected this, really; he’d said aftercare was a non-negotiable for him, so you knew he wasn’t going to just fuck you and dip, but the care and tenderness with which he cradles and soothes you is almost as electric as the brutality of before. It’s as funny as it was, you suppose, inevitable— this man has violated you in every way, and yet you’ve never felt more safe than you do in his arms. Two separate faces; opposing but inseparable.

A while later, he asks if he can give you a bath and you nod. You’re strangely embarrassed as he lowers you into the hot water, quietly soothing you when you hiss as it touches the wounds on your ass and thighs; maybe it’s the tenderness of his care or the knowledge that every mark on your body was put there by him, but you feel oddly exposed.

Still, he’s careful as he holds you still, letting your aching joints soak as he cleanses you of the remnants of what he just did to you. When he lifts you out, wrapping you in a soft towel and carrying you back to bed, you feel like you’re floating on a cloud.

Your voice returns soon enough, and quickly something pushes through to the front of your mind. Still slightly in the haze of subspace as the last drops of adrenaline dissipate, it seems like a reasonable, if not pertinent question.

“Yunho,” you say. He makes a ‘hm?’ noise, squeezing your thigh in recognition. “Would you really have broken my bones?”

He laughs, and you feel his body shaking slightly. It feels… warm. Familiar. “No,” he says. “That’s just part of the game. My favourite part, actually.”

“What part?”

“Making you wonder if it’s really a game.”

Through the aching pain of your pussy, you feel a slight twinge, making you clench unconsciously. Oh.

“You had a safeword,” he says. “So I knew I could push you. But I didn’t do anything I wasn’t sure would make your little pussy throb.”

You can’t help but blush at his words, mewling slightly as you snuggle further into his hold. You could stay like this, wrapped in his strong arms and held securely against his chest, for a long, long time. You wonder if he could, too.

“Yunho,” you say softly.

“Will you stay?”

You glance at him nervously, afraid of his answer. He smiles, holding you closer. “As long as you need,” he says.

-

thank you for reading! comments/feedback/reblogs are appreciated! requests are open! love🖤🖤🖤

taglist open!

[bearforcecaptions]

The spell worked, sort of, but not how I wanted. I did have the body of my dreams – I was Garrett now, but I didn’t realize the catch was that I wouldn’t be able to control what I’m doing unless I’m totally alone. And Garrett, or, me, I guess – I’m nearly never alone! The frat house pretty much always has someone in it, and I’m super popular, too. I thought being Garrett would be fun and easy, but stuck like this, it’s torture!

I figured out the ritual from this old book I found at that occult shop downtown, thinking it would be a quick way out of my boring life and into something… well, something way more interesting. Garrett had it all, or so I thought. Girls loved him, he was in the best shape, and everyone wanted to be his friend. But nobody told me about this weird restriction, or maybe I just didn’t read that part carefully enough. I guess the idea was I’d “experience” Garrett’s life, but it’s like watching a movie, except I’m the star and I can only move on my own terms when no one else is around.

And god, my roommate, he’s actually so stupid. When I can’t control my actions, we bro out all the time, but he’s so vapid. I guess I’m not much better, but it’s actually infuriating. You’d think we could have a conversation that’s not about girls, parties, sports, or video games. But no, every time he starts talking, it’s like Garrett’s body just falls right into the rhythm of it, responding automatically. I tried fighting it at first, but it’s like this autopilot takes over, and I’m just... stuck.

I’ve been scouring the room whenever I get a chance to control things, like right now, looking for any sign or clue on how to undo this. There has to be something I missed. I rummaged through his messy closet, which is packed with clothes, gym stuff, and random junk, none of it useful. The guy keeps his stuff in total chaos, and I feel weirdly exposed, like I’m actually pawing through my own things.

Shit, no, is that the door jangling? I thought I would have a couple of hours to try and figure out how to fix this. Who the hell knows when I’ll get another chan-

Fuuck, bro. Why’s my roomie home early? Thought he went to his ‘rents for the weekend. I was just about to jerk one out too. Ah well, maybe he’ll be down for some Call of Duty or something. I could use a beer.

“Yo, dude, what’s up? You back already?” I say, grinning like an idiot as I lean against the door frame, flexing a bit without even realizing it. Dude probably thinks I’m just chillin’, but nah, I’m feelin' like a boss.

He laughs, dropping his bag by the door and shrugging. “Yeah, man, got bored at home. Figured I’d head back early. Parents were driving me nuts.”

“Oh, for sure, dude,” I nod, grabbing a can of beer from the mini-fridge by my bed. “Parents, am I right? They just don’t get it, bro.” I crack it open, chugging half of it in one go, feeling the cool rush. Damn, that’s good.

He slaps my shoulder, laughing. “Dude, I swear, it’s like every time I go back, it’s the same speech about responsibility and blah blah blah. Like, whatever, right?”

“Oh, totally, man,” I laugh, shrugging it off. “Why they gotta be like that, y’know? We’re just out here living, they don’t get it.” I toss him a beer, feeling that chill vibe kickin’ in, like nothing in the world matters but just hanging with my bro. This is what it’s all about – no worries, no drama, just cold beers and good times.

“Bro, I’m feelin’ a COD sesh,” I say, grabbing the controller off the couch. “You down?”

He grins. “Hell yeah, let’s wreck some noobs.”

We crash down on the couch, controllers in hand, beers in easy reach, and it’s like all the worries in the world just melt away. I’m trash-talkin’, throwin’ down taunts, and we’re both laughing so hard my sides hurt. I don’t even remember the last time I felt this alive.

“You’re so bad, dude,” I laugh, jabbing him in the ribs as I get another kill. “How are you still this bad?”

“Shut up, bro!” he shoves me back, laughing too, and I’m grinning like an idiot.

Fuck, life is good, I think, as I take a gulp of my beer. I got my bros, I got my beer, and I got my games. What more does a dude need? Life’s good.

[hanniebaeee]

All I want for Christmas

Chris Bang x fem!reader

Warnings: some tears and making out

Genre: almost exes to lovers, angst, fluff

Summary: You and Chris are on the verge of a break up, but then, it's Christmas. And there's some magic in the air.

a/n: Merry Christmas everyone 💕 Love you all, and I can't thank you guys enough for all the love and support. Lots of love and wishes for the New year from me✨

The freezing December air bit at your cheeks as you stepped onto the rooftop of your apartment building. One of your neighbors, Jimin, handed you a cup of mulled wine, and you accepted with a smile. Your fingers wrapped tightly around the mug tightly, your eyes taking in the sight around you. 

The party was in full swing - warm fairy lights strung across the rooftop, some of older women decorating gingerbread men. A beautiful Christmas tree gleamed in the center, but none of it reached you.

Your eyes darted around the crowd, searching for just one face. 

Chris.

Your chest ached at the thought of him. It had been weeks since you last spoke. Since that disastrous fight. You'd both said things you didn't mean. It was just a poor way of shielding your own hearts from being hurt.

You loved him. God, you loved him. But sometimes love wasn’t enough. Or maybe…it was just too much.

You sighed and sipped your drink, leaning against the railing, letting the city lights blur your thoughts. And then, you felt it before you saw him. That quiet pull.

There he was.

Chris stood at the far end of the rooftop, near the makeshift stage, surrounded by kids. 

He looked good. Too good. In that beautiful grey coat and pants, and that crisp white shirt that you loved so much on him. But his eyes - they were rimmed with dark circles, hollow in a way that absolutely shattered your heart.

You turned away, your breath hitching. How was it possible to miss him this much, when he's standing right there in front of you?

“Alright, alright, gather ‘round!” someone announced, pulling your attention to the stage.

The kids had taken seats on the front row, giggling with excitement. And then, Chris stepped forward to the mic, with a guitar in hand. And his eyes met yours, and your heart stopped.

“Settle down, settle down,” he told the kids, with a gentle smile on his face, his voice a little rough around the edges.

And then his eyes met yours once again, as he started to sing. 

Silent night, holy night…

The world faded. His voice was like warm honey, dripping with emotion, so achingly tender, like he was pouring every ounce of himself into the song. You stood frozen, his voice wrapping around your chest, squeezing tight until tears pricked your eyes.

Towards the end of the song, you couldn’t take it anymore. Blinking rapidly, you slipped away, setting your mug down on a nearby table and heading for the stairwell.

You didn’t make it far.

Sinking onto the cold steps, you buried your head in your hands, shoulders trembling as sobs wracked your body.

“Y/N.”

The voice was breathless, and you looked up to see him standing there, his chest rising and falling like he’d run after you. His cheeks were flushed from the cold, and his eyes, wide, desperate.

“Chris, I…”

He didn’t let you finish. He sat on the step near you, his hands cupping your face as he leaned in close, his forehead brushing yours.

“I can’t do this,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I can’t be without you. I know I screwed up, I know things are messy, but…please. Don’t let this be the end. I need you, baby.”

You swallowed hard, tears slipping down your cheeks. “Chris, it’s not that simple. We keep hurting each other.”

“I’ll fix it,” he said, his thumbs brushing away your tears. “Whatever it takes. I’ll fix it, because I love you more than anything. Please, just…don’t give up on us. Don't give up on me…”

The vulnerability in his voice shattered the last of your resolve. You surged forward, your lips crashing into his in a kiss, so desperate but sweet. 

He groaned against your mouth, his hands sliding down to your waist, pulling you into his lap as you straddled him on the narrow staircase.

The stairwell was quiet except for the sound of your ragged breathing and the faint hum of music drifting down from the rooftop. Chris’s hands roamed your back, pulling you as close as he could. Your lips moved together in a rhythm that was both frantic and tender, years of love and pent-up longing pouring into every kiss.

“God, I missed you,” Chris whispered against your mouth, his soft wet lips so warm. His thumbs brushed along your jawline. “Missed this. Missed you.”  

“I missed you too,” you admitted, your hands threading into his soft curls. “So much.”  

His lips found yours again, hungrier this time, and you melted into him, your fingers gripping the soft fabric of his shirt. He shifted slightly, leaning back against the wall and pulling you further into his lap. And the heat radiating from his body was enough to make your head spin.  

“Chris…” you murmured, breaking the kiss just enough to look at him. His eyes held a tenderness that made your chest tighten.

“I love you, baby,” he said and tears welled in your eyes again, but this time, they weren’t from sadness.

You pressed your lips to his and he hummed softly, his hands sliding down to your hips, and sliding under the hem of your sweater. His touch was warm, sending shivers down your spine.

His lips slipped down your neck, and you tilted your head to give him better access, your fingers tangling in his hair.

“Chris, anyone can just walk by,” you managed to say, your voice tinged with both amusement and desire. 

“And?” he teased, smiling as he nipped lightly at your collarbone.  

You let out a laugh that quickly turned into a sigh as his hands slid higher under your sweater, his thumbs brushing the sides of your ribs. His kisses grew rougher, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you squirm. 

“Okay,” you said breathlessly. “But if Mrs. Park from 3B catches us, I’m blaming you.”

Chris chuckled, his grin boyish and utterly irresistible.

“Fair. But I think she’d just tell us to get married already.” he said, and you stilled, searching his eyes. There was no teasing in his gaze now, just pure love.  

“Too soon?” he asked softly.

“No,” you whispered, leaning into his touch. “Not at all.”

With a radiant smile, he kissed you again, slow and deep.

“Come back to me,” he whispered against your lips. “Move back in with me. Let’s fix this. Together.” 

Your heart swelled, and you nodded, tears spilling over. 

“Okay, Channie. Let’s try again.”

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere

Dividers: @strangergraphics

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

When You're Ready

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Warnings: being a single mom, the hard side of being a parent, overstimulation?

Summary: Being a single mother hasn’t always been easy, and life catches up to you whether you want it to or not. You have so much on your plate that you’re not even thinking about being in a relationship. Spencer likes you and he makes it clear that he’ll wait for you no matter how long it takes.

Square Filled: huddle for warmth for @anyfandomgoesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

Today could not be any worse than it is right now. You didn’t have time to brush your hair, you barely got your teeth brushed, your clothes are wrinkly because you forgot to iron them last night, the heater is broken in your house so all your daughter does is complain that it’s too cold, and you’re trying to get both her and yourself ready for the day.

“Mama, I’m hungry!” she whines.

“Food is coming, baby,” you say.

As you try not to cry, you plate more breakfast for her and set it on her tray. She immediately digs into the pancakes like she’s never been fed before. The TV is blaring in the living room as it plays yet another episode of Spongebob, her favorite TV show. Right now, that little sponge is giving you a massive headache. The coffee machine beeps for the tenth time, and you have an overwhelming urge to chuck it out the window. The machine has been broken for quite some time now but will make a cup of coffee every once in a while.

Today is not one of those days.

Suddenly, the doorbell rings and you just about stop and cry right there. What now? Who could this possibly be while you’re already running late for work? You leave Casey in the kitchen and walk to the front door. On the way, you almost slip on one of her toys, and you kick it harder than you should have. You open the front door and see your housekeeper standing there. You barely have enough to pay her since you had to downgrade a bunch of stuff since the divorce, but she stayed and accepted the new salary.

You’re honestly not sure what you would do without her.

“Oh, Shelly, it’s you.”

“Rough morning?” Tears well in your eyes at her question because you’re forced to think how this morning has been in a sea of bad ones. “Oh, Y/N, don’t worry about a thing. I’m here now.”

“Thanks,” you whisper and close the door behind her. You turn down the TV so that you don’t have to shout at Shelly. “Um, Casey has a field trip today. I looked at the weather and it’s going to be cold so make sure she packs a jacket. She’ll fight it but make sure she has one, okay?”

“Y/N, how long have I been looking after this little girl? I’ll be okay. Don’t you have work?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Here, let me.”

She fixes your hair until it looks presentable, and you give her a warm smile.

“Thank you. The coffee machine is broken. I’ll pick one up on the way home.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get a new one. I have a few other things to pick up at the store.”

“Okay. Bye, Casey! Mommy is off to work. I love you!”

“I love you!” she sings back.

Despite how hard it’s being a single mom, she always brings a smile to your face. Not only is it hard being a single mom, but you work in the FBI where your job is demanding and requires a lot out of you. It’s why you needed to hire Shelly. Before, she was here because your ex-husband paid to have her clean the house. You both had jobs and weren't home enough to keep up with it. Now with Casey, she’s a blessing in disguise.

Hotch makes it look so easy. Since Haley was killed, he’s been doing a good job at raising his son and being the Unit Chief. He has Beth and Haley’s sister, but it’s just him most of the time. You have no one but Shelly, and she only comes three times a week. Casey’s father fled the second you told him you were pregnant so you had to do this entire thing by yourself. All Casey knows is the team because you have them over ever so often.

She’s more familiar with Hotch since he brings Jack over for playdates because they are around the same age. Though, she loves Spencer more than anyone on the team. You’re only friends with him but he’s expressed interest in you. He’s made it clear that you’re on his mind, but you can’t be dating right now. There’s no time for boyfriends or flings or whatever Spencer would be. Your life is too complicated. Add in a toddler and a lawsuit for child support, and it’s too much for someone else to handle.

You told him this much, and he seems okay with being your friend. You still catch him watching you and blushing when you give him a compliment, but he’s been respectful of your boundaries.

You walk into work and notice everyone inside the briefing room. You practically throw your shit down on your desk and run to the briefing room.

“So sorry I’m late. Traffic,” you white-lie.

“It’s okay. We’re just going over updates on our cases and finishing files,” Hotch says.

The B Team must be out right now, and you sag your shoulders in relief. You need a chill day right now more than anything. After a rundown of the open cases, you take yours back to your desk to get started on them. Spencer does the same but he approaches your desk from the front.

You barely look up at him. “Oh, hey, Spencer.”

“Rough morning?” You scoff but don’t say anything. You don’t want to hurt his feelings. “How is Casey doing?”

“She’s good. She has a field trip today at the aquarium.”

Spencer is about to say a fact when he sees the look on your face. Maybe he shouldn’t be himself right now.

“That should be fun.” Again, you don’t respond. All you want to do is focus on your work and not on the headache you have. Instead of going back to his desk, he sits next to yours. “You know, if you ever need someone to watch Casey, I’m more than happy to do it. Even for an entire weekend. It’ll give you time to yourself.” You stop typing and look at him. “Only if it’s okay with you, of course. Or maybe I can come over and hang with her while you get some sleep or something.”

“What are you doing?”

“What? I’m just trying to help.”

It’s the way he said it that makes your back crack under the pressure. You know he doesn’t deserve this but you’re saying it anyway because he’s here.

“You’re not her father, Spencer!”

“I know, but--”

“Look, that’s nice of you to offer but I have been raising her by myself since she was born. Even before she was born. I didn’t need help then and I don’t need it now. If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

You gather your finished files and walk away from your desk. Tears threaten to spill but you won’t let it. Not now.

“Okay,” Spencer says, his voice small.

Yep, you hate yourself now. Truth be told, he kind of scares you. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted in a man, and that scares you. He’s safe and predictable and dependable, everything you never had, not even with Casey’s father. He messed you up so badly that you learned you can’t depend on anyone for anything.

Not even Spencer.

After putting your files away, you slip into the bathroom and just cry. All this stress shouldn’t be good for you. The bathroom door opens and you immediately wipe the tears away. JJ frowns when she sees the tears, and you splash some water on your face to get the redness to go away.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. What’s up?”

“I was just wondering if you could come over to my place at two instead of four. Will is having his boys come at two, and I figured my girls could be there at the same time to get coordinated with them.”

“What?”

“Please don’t tell me you forgot about my wedding. It’s next weekend. You’re my maid of honor.”

Shit. You completely forgot about that. You’ve been so focused on not breaking down that her wedding has completely slipped your mind.

“No, I didn't forget.” You wince at the lie. “Okay, it slipped my mind, but I will be there. Two, not four.” You’re about to leave when you remember Shelly telling you she is going out of town next weekend. You don’t have money for a babysitter. “Would it be okay if I brought Casey? Shelly is going to be out of town.”

“Yes, the more the merrier. I love Casey, and I know Henry does, too.”

“Thank you, JJ,” you sigh.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m just stressed is all. I don’t think I slept more than a few hours each night, my hair needs a cut, I need an everything shower, and I don’t have time to do any of it.”

“Yeah, motherhood can be tough.”

“Tell me about it. Not to mention, I think I might have hurt Spencer’s feelings. I yelled at him. He’s just trying to help.”

“He’s a big boy. He’ll get over it. What did he say?”

“He offered to look after Casey for a weekend.”

“It might be good to take him up on the offer.”

You shrug. “I gotta get back to work.” You leave the bathroom and notice Spencer at his own desk. “Spencer?” He looks up and smiles when he sees you, making you feel even worse than you do. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you or said those things.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay. You were just trying to help.”

“The offer still stands if and when you want to use it. Think about it.”

The rest of the week is pretty chill since the B Team is still out, giving you and Spencer more time to strengthen your relationship. He shows up to work with an extra coffee, a breakfast sandwich, and a smile just for you. He wants to make sure you eat because that’s the only thing he can do right now to help you.

On the day of the wedding, you know he is going to be right there in the audience. He agreed to look after Casey while you stand next to JJ, so you’re getting her dressed in her pretty pink sparkle dress.

“So, while Mommy is up with Aunt JJ, you’re going to be seated next to Spencer in the audience. Right there in the front.”

“I like Spencer,” she grins.

You smooth down your hair and smile. “Me, too.”

“Are you gonna marry him?”

“No,” you laugh.

“I bet he’d make a great dad.”

You choose not to say anything to that and lead her down the aisle where Spencer is seated. The wedding is located in JJ’s own backyard, but it’s perfect. It’s everything she’s ever wanted and more. Casey has a strict bedtime but the wedding goes past that, so naturally, she gets cranky by the time the reception happens. She’s hungry and restless, two things a toddler should never be at the same time.

“Just another hour and I promise, we can go home. I promised JJ we’d be here.”

“I’m hungry, Mama, and I’m bored.”

“Hey, what’s going on here?”

You look up and see Spencer approaching you two.

“Sorry, she skipped her nap today, and it’s past her bedtime. She’s just bored.”

“May I?” You nod. “Hey, Casey? Would you like to dance? Just one, and then maybe we can get some cake.”

“Okay,” she grins.

Spencer takes her to the dancefloor while you stay seated at one of the tables. He whispers something to her and she eagerly steps onto his shoes. He dances around in circles with her on his shoes, and she giggles happily. It doesn’t matter how much of a shitty week you’ve been having. She’s smiling and laughing and that means you’re doing a pretty damn good job. Spencer picks her up and holds her close so he can dance properly, and she leans her head on his chest.

Would it be so bad to let him in? Maybe not, but you’re clearly not in the headspace for it. Is he willing to wait? You don’t want to keep him from other relationships even though it doesn’t look like he’s rushing to be in one.

After two songs are over, Spencer lets her down. He whispers something to her and she runs off in search of either Henry, Jack, or both. He walks over to you and holds out his hand.

“Care to dance?”

“Yes,” you smile.

You grab his hand and he brings you to the dancefloor. The next song is a slow one, so he pulls you in close to him. One hand in yours and the other low on your back. Has he always smelled this good?

“Thank you for what you did. She likes you a lot.”

“I like her a lot.” He dips his head lower so that his forehead barely touches the top of your head. “I like her mother, too.” Your heart thumps but in a good way. It’s like everyone else around you disappears until it’s only you and Spencer. “I’ll wait however long you need me to.”

You look up at him with tears. “What?”

“If time and space is what you need, I’ll give it to you. Just know that I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

“You might be waiting a while,” you whisper.

“I’m a patient man.”

You rest your head on Spencer’s chest and let the music guide you. He runs his hand up and down your back, creating a safe and warm aura about him.

“You make me feel safe,” you whisper.

Whether he hears it or not, he doesn’t respond. He just continues to dance with you long after the song has ended.

x

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[inkskinned]

she's three years younger than i am, and i put on cascada as a throwback, cackling - before your time! i've been borrowing my brother's car, and it's older than dirt, so the trunk is like, maybe permanently locked. when the sun comes through the window to frame her cheekbones, i feel like i'm 16 again. i shake when i'm kissing her, worried i won't get it right.

in 2003, my state made gay marriage legal. where she grew up, it wasn't legal until 11 years later - 10 years ago. if legal protections for gay marriage were a person, that person would be entering 5th grade. online, a white gay man calls the fight for legal marriage boring, which isn't kind of him but it is a common enough opinion.

it has only been 9 years since gay marriage was nationally official. it is already boring to have gay people in your tv. it is already boring to mention being gay - "why make it your entire personality?" i know siblings that have a larger age gap than the amount of time it's been legally protected. i recently saw a grown man record himself crying about how evil gay people are. he was begging us, red in the face - just do better.

i am absolutely ruined any time my girlfriend talks about being 27 (i know!! a child!), but we actually attended undergrad at the same time since i had taken off time to work between high school and college. while walking through the city, we drop our hands, try not to look too often at each other. the other day i went to an open mic in a basement. the headlining comedian said being lesbian isn't interesting, but i am a lesbian, if you care. as a joke, she had any lesbian raise their hand if present. i raised mine, weirdly embarrassed at being the single hand in a sea of other faces. she had everyone give me a round of applause. i felt something between pride and also throwing up.

sometimes one thing is also another thing. i keep thinking about my uncle. he died in the hospital without his husband of 35 years - they were not legally wed, so his husband could not enter. this sounds like it should be from 1950. it happened in 2007. harassment and abuse and financial hardship still follow any person who is trying to get married while disabled. marriage equality isn't really equal yet.

and i don't know that i can ever put a name to what i'm experiencing. sometimes it just feels... so odd to watch the balance. people are fundamentally uninterested in your identity, but also - like, there's a whole fucking bastion of rabid men and women who want to kill you. your friends roll their eyes you're gay we get it and that is funny but like. when you asked your father do you still love me? he just said go to your room. you haven't told your grandmother. disney is on their 390th "first" gay representation, but also cancelled owl house and censored the fuck out of gravity falls. you actively got bullied for being gay, but your advisor told you to find a different gimmick for your college essay - everyone says they're gay these days.

once while you were having a hard day you cried about the fact that the reason our story is so fucking boring to so many people is that it is so similar. that it is rare for one of us to just, like, have a good experience across the board. that our stories often have very parallel bends - the dehumanization, the trauma, the trouble with trusting again. these become rote instead of disgusting. how bad could it be if it is happening to so many people?

i kiss my girlfriend when nobody is looking. i like her jawline and how her hands splay when she's making a joke. there is nothing new about this story, sappho. i love her like opening up the sun. like folding peace between the layers of my life, a buttercream of euphoria, freckles and laughter and wonder.

my dad knows about her. i've been out to him since i was 18 - roughly four years before the supreme court would protect us. the other day he flipped down the sun visor while driving me to the eye doctor. "you need to accept that your body was made for a husband. you want to be a mother because you were made for men, not women." he wants me to date my old high school boyfriend. i gagged about it, and he shook his head. he said - "don't be so dramatic. you can get used to anything."

the other day a straight friend of mine snorted down her nose about it, accidentally echoing him - she said there are bigger problems in this world than planning a wedding.

[meazalykov]

not forgotten

barcelona femeni x reader

summary: you're back, but not for a good reason

warnings: angst, injury

barcelona was supposed to be your dream. 

when you signed for the club, it felt like your whole life had built up to that moment. everything seemed perfect at first. you were playing, scoring goals, and building your legacy. you signed the contract back in 2018, transferring from manchester city. 

you don’t know what went wrong during then.. because everything good changed in 2021.

the left knee injury came out of nowhere. one wrong turn, one awkward landing in that game against chelsea, and suddenly, your world crumbled. you had torn your left acl, and in a flash, the career you had worked so hard for was put on hold. 

the surgery, the rehab, the endless hours spent trying to get your body to cooperate..it was the hardest thing you’d ever done. even harder than the physical recovery was the emotional toll. when you were finally cleared to play again, barcelona didn’t seem to trust you anymore. 

you sat on the bench, game after game, the empty pit in your stomach growing deeper each time your name wasn’t called. at first, you told yourself it was temporary and that they were easing you back in. 

weeks turned to months, and you were still a benchwarmer.. the minutes never came. 

you tried to stay positive, to convince yourself that the coach had a plan, that your moment would come. as the team celebrated goals without you, as the crowd chanted other names, a dark voice in the back of your mind began to whisper: 

they don’t believe in you anymore.

it was like a knife to the heart. barcelona wasn’t just a club to you..it was a symbol of everything you had ever wanted since leaving your childhood club in manchester. to feel discarded, like you were no longer good enough to wear that blue jersey, was unbearable. you kept showing up to training, pushing yourself harder than anyone else, trying to prove that you deserved to be there. 

no matter how much effort you gave, it seemed like they had already made up their minds about you. 

you began to dread match days, not because you didn’t love the game, but because it hurt too much to sit on the bench, knowing you were capable of more but not being given the chance. you’d put on a brave face, cheering for your teammates and pretending like it didn’t bother you. inside, you were drowning. people started to question why you were still here if you weren’t given time.

at night, in the quiet darkness of your apartment bathroom, the facade would crack. you’d stare at the ceiling, wondering where it had all gone wrong. did they think you were fragile? did they think you’d never be the same? the worst part was, you started to believe it too. 

the doubt crept into your mind like poison, and no matter how hard you tried to fight it, it lingered. you began to question if you would ever get back to the player you once were..or if that version of you was gone forever. 

you felt invisible, forgotten… and for a player who had once been at the center of it all, that was the hardest thing to bear.

when the chicago red stars approached you with a loan offer, needing a striker due to the absence of mallory– an american star suffering her own injury, you didn’t hesitate. the chance to play in the nwsl for a full season felt like your lifeline. it wasn’t just about proving to barcelona that you still had what it took…it was about proving it to yourself. 

you needed to know that you could still be the player you once were.

chicago felt like a breath of fresh air. the league was different, more physical and honestly more competitive. by the fifth week of the nwsl season, you were a starter, and it felt like everything was finally clicking again. 

the goals came naturally, your touch on the ball felt sharp, and you ran without fear. it was as if the 2021 injury had never happened. for the first time in years, you felt like yourself.. you just needed to get out of spain. 

you started thinking that maybe, just maybe, the nwsl was where you belonged.

then, with only a few weeks left in the regular season before the playoffs, disaster struck again. it was a routine play against seattle, nothing unusual..until it wasn’t. one moment you were sprinting down the wing, the next you were on the ground, clutching your right knee. 

the pain was instant, sharp, and all too familiar. you knew before the medics even reached you what had happened. another torn acl, this time in your right leg.

tears blurred your vision as you were stretchered off the field. all the progress you’d made, all the confidence you’d rebuilt, gone in an instant. and to make it worse, your loan agreement was clear: any season-ending injury meant you had to return to barcelona before your loan is expired. 

the thought made your stomach turn. you hadn’t spoken to most of your home-club teammates since leaving on loan, and you were convinced they resented you for leaving. 

after all, it was widely known that you had requested the loan yourself and quickly took chicagos deal like it was a prize.

back in spain just a week later, the familiar sights of barcelona felt foreign to you. the medical building, where you’d spent countless hours during your first recovery, loomed like a prison. you did not want to be back so soon. you felt like an outsider, unwelcome in the place you once called home. 

when you walked inside, you kept your head down, hoping to get through the day without running into anyone.

however, you saw her..alexia. your old captain, the person who had once been your biggest supporter. she was standing near the reception desk, and when she saw you, her face lit up. you froze, unsure of what to do. 

you expected anger or at least indifference, but instead, she smiled and walked over to you.

“y/n,” she said, her tone warm. 

“it’s so good to see you.”

you blinked, caught off guard. 

“you don’t have to say that,” you mumbled. “i know everyone’s probably mad at me for leaving.”

alexia frowned, shaking her head. 

“why would we be mad? we’ve missed you.”

you stared at her, struggling to believe her words. 

“missed me? alexia, i left. i asked to leave. how could anyone miss me after that?”

“y/n,” she said softly, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“you’re part of this team. we knew your circumstances.. we’ve all been following your games in chicago, rooting for you.. especially aitana. no one’s mad at you. if anything, we just hated seeing you feel like you couldn’t come to us.”

ale’s words hit you harder than you expected. you had spent so long convincing yourself that you were unwanted here that you hadn’t even considered the possibility that it wasn’t true. 

over the next few months, as you navigated surgery and the early stages of rehab, your teammates began to show up for you in small but meaningful ways. mapi sent you care packages filled with your favorite snacks that helped her with some of her own injuries. ingrid invited you over to watch movies, saying it was good for your mental health. even patri, who you always thought was a bit intimidating, dropped by unannounced with chinese takeout and a pep talk that made you laugh despite yourself.

suddenly.. the invitation to a team bar night. you were surprised to even be invited, and when you hesitated, aitana rolled her eyes and said, “you’re part of the team, so of course you’re invited. we care about you so stop overthinking it.”

you had fun with your teammates that night. they teased you about your time in chicago, praised your performances, and implied that you were missed while gone. 

it was the first time in a long time that you truly believed it.

a year later, as you finished your rehab and returned to full training, barcelona was a different place. jona had been replaced by a new coach, one who seemed genuinely interested in your potential. one afternoon, he called you into his office for a meeting.

“y/n,” he began, leaning back in his chair. “i’ve been watching your progress, and i’m impressed. with mariona gone, we need a striker with your skill set. i know things haven’t been easy for you here in the past, but i want you to know that if you stay, i can promise you’ll get the playing time you deserve.”

you hesitated. your contract was up next summer, and part of you still wanted to leave, to find a new start somewhere else. there was something in his tone that made you consider his words carefully.

“i’ll stay,” you said finally. “but only until my contract ends. if things don’t change, i’m leaving as a free agent.”

“fair enough,” he replied with a nod. 

“but i have a feeling you won’t want to leave.”

he was right. the next season was nothing short of a dream. you became a starter again, and your performances were better than ever. 

by the end of the season, and with the champions league win thanks to a brace from you, you had the highest goal count across europe’s top five leagues. the fans chanted your name, and your teammates reminded you often that you only belong here. 

chicago had been the fresh reset you needed, but barcelona was where you belonged. 

this time, you were ready to claim your place for good.

masterlist

[natalievoncatte]

Lena tipped back the last of her scotch and savored it, letting the smooth, piquant insistence of it roll across her tongue and sting between her teeth. She’d poured herself three fingers of a thirty year old single malt from the Macallan and had tasted it every drop, letting it stay a while. Indeed she’d indulged so slowly that she was barely buzzed.

A distant memory struck her. The sting of heavy smoke in her mouth, acrid and unpleasant but as rich and complex in flavor as her single malts. The effect was ruined by her idiotic decision to breath it in rather than allow a brief visitation in her mouth before being set free into the night air. She had been thirteen and Lex had given her a puff on a cigar he’d stolen from their father’s humidor while he and Lillian were away.

“This is a Dominican,” he’d told her. “I’ll give you a Cuban when you have enough experience to appreciate it.”

She turned the glass in her hand before setting it in the sink. She thought of Lex almost every day- not the raving, incoherent loon who’d tied her to the chair or the bitter shell of a man he was when she fired five bullets into his chest, but the boy he was, about to go off to college, full of adolescent bravado that matched his genius. She thought of the man he might have been if he hadn’t let his base jealousy consume him, if he’d had enough empathy to follow a better path. Her path.

It was a hard one to walk, but-

There was a tap at her balcony door and she nearly jumped out of her skin, wheeling.

It was Kara.

Lena motioned for her to open the door and she did, stepping inside.

“Can you ever use the inside door like a normal person?”

Kara shrugged. “I went for a fly to clear my head and I ended up here.”

Lena sighed. “I was just heading to bed, darling. It’s late. Too late to watch cartoons on my couch.”

“Will you fly with me?”

Lena quirked a brow. “You know it’s not any fun for me. I really do hate flying.”

“I know but, I was just… would you?”

Lena looked at her. Kara looked back, her eyes soft, expression hopeful and fearful, inviting. It made Lena fight the urges that dogged her. She felt a need to stride across the distance between them and tuck away a few wind-tossed locks of Kara’s hair, cup a warm hand to her cool cheek, soothe the pain that always seemed to hide in her eyes, like the reflection of something dark in the gloss of a family photo.

“Okay.”

She got her jacket first to protect herself against the night chill, then wondered how to do this. She was used to Kara flying her, but it was usually after being caught from a fall or scooped from danger and whisked to safety. Casually flying hadn’t really been their thing.

She settled on looping her arms about Kara’s neck.

She hesitated. “Lena, are you sure? Your heart is beating pretty fast.”

“You won’t drop me?”

“Never.”

Lena nodded and Kara swept her arms under Lena, one arm under her knees, the other curled around her waist. Of course it was effortless- for Kara, raising a cement mixer over her head was effortless. She stepped up to the railing of the balcony and paused when Lena tensed.

Lena closed her eyes as Kara stepped into empty air. She realized that she didn’t know how Kryptonians fly; she suspected Kara didn’t know either. It just happened.

Lena kept her eyes shut. Kara flew, holding her gently but firmly. If not for the wind buffeting her, Lena wouldn’t have known she was hundreds of feet in the air.

Finally she felt the soft impact of Kara’s boots on the ground and opened her eyes as Kara lowered her to her feet.

“Where are we?”

Lena looked around. They were in a baseball diamond, probably for little league games, in a small park.

“The suburbs. No one bothers me at night if I stop here. It’s a good place to think.”

Kara walked over to the bleachers and sat down. She looked so forlorn, so terribly sad, and Lena quickly sat beside her.

Kara didn’t speak. She saw the slight tremor of Lena’s restrained shiver, and without a word unclasped her cape and swept it around Lena.

“Thanks,” said Lena. “This makes a good blanket.”

Kara smiled. “That is a blanket. Kal… Clark’s birth parents, my aunt and uncle, sent it with him to Earth. Martha made it part of his first suit. The one she made.”

Lena stared at her for a moment. She rarely spoke of her cousin, and when she did, it had an odd, detached tone to it. A kind of resentment. She sounded fond now, and familiar. Lena knew who he was, of course; once she knew who Kara was, deducing who her cousin was turned out to be a simple thing. Yet Kara had never dropped his name so casually in conversation. It was intimate. Familiar.

“Speaking of Clark,” said Kara. “He sent me a message today. He’s staying on Argo with Lois and their child. He’s not coming home.”

Kara caught herself, eyes wide. Lena waited, holding a tense breath.

“Kara, what is it?”

“I can’t remember when I started thinking of Earth as home,” said Kara. “Just like I can’t remember when I started thinking in English instead of translating my thoughts.”

Lena poked an arm out of the cape to rest a hand on Kara’s shoulder.

“You’re thinking about joining them.”

Kara looked down. “I almost did before, but I was needed here. I don’t feel needed so much anymore. There’s so many more heroes now- Bruce has a whole team he’s built, and there’s Diana now and of course Barry and Oliver and… they can handle a lot of it. I don’t even put the suit on every day anymore.”

Lena felt a terrible, frigid chill. Colder than the night, colder than death. She looked at Kara, really looked at her, lit by lamplight, a golden beauty in the dark. She was so hauntingly, achingly beautiful. Lena could still remember the feeling when she saw Kara for the first time in her office, how her face must have betrayed her. My God, who is this?

“Are you thinking about going?”

“Maybe. I’m not sure. I don’t know what to do. My people need every Kryptonian to come home and rebuild our culture and way of life. I have a sacred duty.”

Lena met her gaze levelly, feeling undone by it. Kara’s eyes were soft, full of an aching, unasked question.

“You keep talking about being needed, about duty,” Lena said. “The whole time I’ve known you it’s been about oaths and obligations and responsibilities. What do you want, Kara? What is your heart’s desire? Whatever it is, if you ask me, you deserve it. Whatever debt you think you owe the universe, you’ve paid it back in full with interest and gratuities.”

Kara looked away. “I know what I want, but I’m scared to ask for it.”

“I’ve never known you to be scared of anything.”

“I’m scared of being hurt. I’m scared of hurting someone else. What if I’m wrong? I’ve always been wrong about this one thing. I don’t want to lose you by asking the wrong question.”

Me? Lena thought. Why would…

Lena’s heart raced anew. The shock felt like she’d spilled cold water from her heart, racing down her limbs. She felt as heavy as stone and as light as a feather, and the flutter in her belly made her regret the scotch.

“I don’t want to go,” Kara sighed. “This is my home now. Krypton… Krypton is gone and it probably should be. I hope Clark can show the survivors a better way. There were a lot of things my people did wrong.”

“Kara, you can’t go. Okay? You can’t. You are needed here. I need you.”

Kara turned abruptly, eyes wide.

“Why did you wait so long?” Lena whispered.

“After everything I did, I… I was as afraid. I hurt you so much, caused you so much pain. Why would you…”

“Because you get so excited when you land on Park Place,” said Lena. “Because you sing to yourself when no one is looking. Because you’re bored to tears watching documentaries with me but you do it anyway. Because you always flex your muscles when you pop a cork from a bottle. Because you save me and cherish me and treat me like a queen, and you always have. Yes, Kara, you hurt me, but no one is perfect. I’m just as guilty.”

“What do you want, Lena? What’s your hearts desire?”

“I think you already know that and you’re just too scared to admit it.”

Kara swallowed, hard.

“Stay with me. Choose me,” said Lena.

“Can I kiss you?”

“I seriously thought you’d never ask,” said Lena.

Kara tilted in close. Sitting on the old faded wood of the bleachers with a blanket around her, she felt so young. She hadn’t been this giddy about a kiss since middle school. No; she’s never been this giddy ever, not a day in her life. Kara’s lips touched hers and despite the chasteness of it, she let out a soft moan.

Kara took it as an invitation and the kiss deepened, and she slipped under the blanket so they were both wrapped in it and her arms found Lena’s waist. When she tucked her head under Kara’s chin and pressed into her arms, she felt so safe, so sheltered. It was perfect, like finally finding home, and they were still there when the sun found them and Kara carried her into the morning sky.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Are your requests open? If not feel free to ignore this. If so you can also still ignore this but I wanted to ask, could you write how the batboys/batfam would react to a vigilante reader who left Gotham but came back a year or so later?

I don't know if you listen to Noah Kahan but maybe something along the lines of the song “Your Gonna Go Far”? It's just a good song that makes me think of them for some reason IDK 😂

Damian’s was a little angsty but eh. I held this ask off for long enough.

Dick would tease that the reason you came back was because you missed him too much, when in actuality it was more or less the opposite, he missed his fighting crime alongside his vigilante buddy.

‘Fuck off.’ You’d scoff and go to playfully push him, only for him to take it a step further and willingly fall from the rooftop you were hanging out on, and you immediately stood up. ‘Dick?’ You’d call as you peered over the ledge for him. ‘This isn’t funny!’ You shouted in attempt to hide the fact that you were incredibly fearful of the state you’d find him in.

However Dick reappears doing a handstand with a shit eating grin on his face as he used his hands to move towards you, much to your chagrin.

‘I’ll leave again.’ You threatened, crossing your arms over your chest.

‘No you won’t.’ Dick grunts as he got to his feet, still smiling as he got stepped close to you. ‘If you were hellbent on leaving Gotham forever then you wouldn’t have dared tempt the idea of coming back.’

As much as you hated to admit it but he was right, you wouldn’t leave again and even if you did originally want out of Gotham, there was too much work that had to be done here then anywhere else. You were more pretty much done with the whole leaving thing as that didn’t necessarily work out, considering just how fast you abandoned your original plan just to came back to Gotham.

‘I hate it when you’re right.’ You murmured under your breath as Dick chuckles, happy to have you back home, back to him and picking up where you both left off as though nothing had ever happened.

‘So that being all the time, right?’ He asks as he slings an arm over your shoulder, pulling you into his side as you made a face. ‘You’d fucking like for that was the case don’t you.’ You scoffed as you looked at him, one to see him looking back at you with a soft look in his eyes, which was something new even for you seeing as yours and Dick’s relationship consisted of witty back and forth and making lightheartedly fun out of each other.

‘Only if you stay long enough to admit it.’ He says without an ounce of his usual teasing as a silence befell you both as you stared at one another, wondering where life was going to take you now you were back in Gotham.

Jason

‘I was rooting for you to stay away.’ He said upon seeing you kick one of Penguin’s goons in the head.

You shrugged. ‘Hate to disappoint but the grass wasn’t greener on the other side.’ You told him, kicking the goon’s switchblade over the rooftop and into the streets below when noticing his hand itching towards it.

‘It must’ve been at least somewhat greener considering how long you stayed there before coming home.’ Jason sassed, joining in by kicking the goon in the ribs for good measure and you groaned. ‘Don’t tell me you’re still pissed at me for leaving are you?’

Jason scoffs. ‘Noooo, why would I be possibly mad at the fact that you had done it. You managed to escape Gotham and instead of staying out of Gotham and building yourself a future where coming back wasn’t an option, you came back?! Why?! What made you think that was a smart idea?!’ He exclaims and you dropped low to perform a sweeping kick to his feet -taking advantage of his irritation- knocking him flat on his back, grabbing the lapels of his brown jacket.

‘For you DUMBASS! I came back to Gotham for you! I wasn’t about to let you rot in this shit hole without at least knowing someone gave a shit about you! Is that such a fucking hard concept to grasp?!’ You yelled at him but just before you let go of his jacket, Jason was quick to catch your wrists in one of his hands and managed to pin you to the floor as he hovered over you. ‘I don’t believe I ever once asked you to do anything for me, other than staying out of Gotham once you found an outing for yourself.’ He said in a low voice.

‘You didn’t need to.’ You told him, easily envisioning the look of frustration Jason must have on his face under the red helmet. ‘That’s was all my own doing and I don’t regret any of it.’ You grunted. ‘Not even a little. I couldn’t afford to build a future out there because there was no future for me to build when I knew I had a better chance of doing that here with you than anywhere else.’

Jason sighed, ‘you’re insufferable.’ He huffed before letting you of your wrists and standing up to his feet as he holds a hand out to you to take.

‘And you’re still a dickhead.’ You retorted smiling as you eagerly grabbed his hand, allowing him to pull you up to your feet before bringing you into his arms, holding you tightly where you melted into his body warmth.

‘Your dickhead you mean.’ He murmurs against your head.

‘yeah, my dickhead.’ You smile, knowing that evening was going to be okay from here on out.

Damian

‘I thought you skipped town.’ Damian said as he sheathed his sword.

‘You don’t sound surprised to see me.’ You replied, putting away your twin batons on your back.

Damian shrugs before looking over at you. ‘Why should I be surprised, I did say on the day you left that you’d come back home sooner or later.’ He reminds you as you both over looked the city you both once swore to protect. ‘No one leaves Gotham for long, this city has a way of pulling people back in whether they liked it or not.’

You clenched your fists at your side out of frustration because you knew that he was right, he was always right and you hated it because when you had gotten out of Gotham, it didn’t feel as though you were needed as much to protect the streets. It made you realised that being born and raised in Gotham and learning go hone the skills required to survive had became a vital part of you, a part of you that you couldn’t escape no matter has far away you go from the vile city and make a name for yourself elsewhere.

It ended up not working out and soon you found yourself going back to the place you swore you’d never go back to.

‘You didn’t miss me? Not once?’ You asked all of a sudden.

‘No. You were barely on my mind as I was busy clearing the streets you left behind.’ Damian said but even you could tell that he was lying to himself somewhat.

‘Are you sure I didn’t come to mind? Not even when you’re standing in the locations we regularly rendezvous for missions?’ You asked again.

Damian remains silent this time. Of course he missed you, there wasn’t a day that went by where he didn’t resent you for leaving Gotham, for leaving him behind when you both swore to keep Gotham safe together. Admittedly he hated you for a brief time after you left, he tried to burn every memory he had of you to prove that his hatred and resentment towards you was true, and not as an act of heartbreak and abandonment.

However Damian found himself unable to keep that facade up after three month anniversary of your departure, where found himself on the very rooftop he was now, and ironically it was the very same rooftop where you told him you were leaving Gotham indefinitely; looking up to the stars and wishing for your health and well-being whether you were.

‘No.’ Damian snipped, leaving you in a very similar to the way you had left him long ago, alone and conflicted with emotions.

[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Lashing Out And Regretting It

Requested: heyya! love how you write the boys characters you got them so well just like how they are on the show. if its okay and if its a good idea, may i request an imagine with the boys and homelander and their reaction after they and reader got into an argument, getting to the point where they told reader some hurtful things and told reader to leave because they dont need reader or reader is nothing to them/is useless. they just say this because they’re angry but reader takes their word to heart and did just as they said. now they cant find reader or finding it hard to locate reader. could be platonic or familial. thank you! - anon

A/N: Screaming I love this!!! I live for the angst!!! I'm so sorry I've been so slow with requests my loves! I hope you can understand! Feedback is always appreciated! 💜💜💜

Requests are open! 🔮

Butcher embarrassed you in front of everyone. Yelling and screaming, calling you useless, all because Samer got away. You were a little too occupied with Kimiko and Frenchie to realize, opting to save your friend than chase after him. Both Kimiko and Frenchie were eager to come to your aid, but he shut them down. He got in your face and he humiliated you, said the team was better off without you. You left without a word, ignoring your friends who begged you to stay. You left your phone behind, knowing they'd call and text, apologizing for him. You were good at your job, the best even. You and Butcher have worked together a long time. This was your first mistake in a long time and he couldn't let it go. You were done. You packed a bag and disappeared. When they realized they couldn't reach you, they split up, looking at your apartment and usual hang outs. No one had seen you. Suddenly Butcher can feel his heart in his stomach. Regret spread through his chest. Everyone was pissed at him, but no one was angrier at him. He never should have done what he did. Now you were gone. Who knows when you'd show up again?

Hughie regrets it immediately. He said what he said because he was angry, and stupid, and awful. You left the night of the Tek Knight party. You were a Supe, a powerful one, but for whatever reasons, your abilities weren't what they used to be. You argued with him, saying he shouldn't go in alone. It came out before he realized, before he could take it back. Right now, he was more powerful than you were. What right did you have telling him what to do when you couldn't do your single job? The look on your face, the horror and hurt, it made him sick to his stomach. He tried to apologize, to explain, but you were done. You threw your hands up, wishing Hughie and the rest a safe mission, but you were done. M.M. assured him it was better to go through with it than run after you, so he did, but the whole time he's thinking about you. He doesn't find you at the office or apartment. You disappeared. They tried to track you, find you, but they hit wall after wall. You'd show up again, they all told him, you just needed time. He'd never felt so guilty in his life.

Annie didn't think you were trying hard enough. It didn't seem like you cared anymore. Not about the team, or taking down Homelander. You seemed like you were just going through the motions. She meant to just talk with you, but things escalated pretty quickly. As soon as she said the words, she knew she was in the wrong. You were becoming a liability to everyone involved. If you were done, burned out, then just say that. Leave. But if you wanted to be a part of this team, if you really cared, you'd stop being so useless. Truth was, you were tired. You were tired of everything. There was no name calling or fighting back. You didn't have it in you. You got up and you walked out, pushing past Butcher and the rest who were just walking in. Annie goes to follow you, but you just pick up your pace. She calls and texts, but you never answer. Everyone says to give you your space, but she can't let it go. She shows up at your place which is completely empty. It fills her with so much shame. She apologizes profusely, asking you to come back, but she never gets a response.

M.M. is reactive and angry and he knows what he's done is wrong immediately after. He's been in charge of this team and so far all you've been is negative. You've lost your faith in the team. He understands, he gets it, but for the sake of everyone involved, he needs you to look on the bright side. If there isn't one, he needs you to make one. He ends up blowing up at you while you're waiting for Hughie as Webweaver. You tell him, Annie, and Kimiko that you have a bad feeling about this, a terrible feeling, but it was too late to do anything. Hughie was already inside. He knows now is not the time nor place, but he loses it. If you can't have faith in the mission, in your teammates, then you shouldn't be here at all. Your attitude problems only hurt morality and it was worse than useless, it was dangerous. Annie and Kimiko try to de-escalate the situation, but you've made up your mind: you're done. You leave without a second thought, wishing them a safe mission. Because they're all occupied, no one can really do anything about it. After his panic attack, Marvin sees just how right you were, but when he calls it goes right to voicemail. When it seems like you disappeared, he does everything he can to track you down. You don't want to be found, though.

Frenchie fights with you after Samer gets away. It was the three of you that were in charge of him and you let him get away. You didn't have any fight left in you. It was your fault. He must've been working on the cuffs for weeks. You trusted him and you let Kimiko get hurt. You know that's the reason he's so upset: because he had to cut off her leg to save her. She could have died. You know what she means to him. And yet, he goes a little overboard. Everyone thinks so, yelling at him to stop when he's gone too far. You were useless. You let Samer get away, you let Kimiko get hurt, you failed at every single job you were given. He can see the look of hurt on your face and finally stops, the room left in a heavy silence. You grab your coat and you leave. There was no use in fighting with him, he was right. Annie and Hughie called after you, pleading with you to stay, but you waved them off, storming out. When they don't hear from you, they all start to worry. You sent a single text to Frenchie before turning off your phone. Tell Kimiko I'm sorry. Feeling guilty, he goes to your place. You're not there though, and neither are your immediate belongings: wallet, keys, phone, some clothes. He has to do something to fix this, to make things okay.

Kimiko is really hurt you turned yourself in alongside Frenchie. The guilt was eating you alive, all the things you've ever done. It was horrible. It was unforgivable. When you come back alongside Butcher, who insists you and Frenchie can replicate the virus, you can't stand to look at her. She wants to talk with you, to ask you why, and eventually, when you get a little alone time, she does. Of course she would understand, your upbringings were cruel, brutal, and it lead you down this road, but you couldn't move on. You couldn't forgive yourself. Kimiko was pissed. Did you really think it was that easy? Did you really think you were the only one eaten alive by guilt and shame and self-hatred? She was signing at you furiously, as close to yelling as she could get. You were so smart, so intelligent, and yet you were wasting your talents wanting to rot away in prison! If you were going to throw your talents away and hurt the team and hurt her and become a useless nobody, then what was stopping you? Certainly not her, not any of your friends. You don't have it in you to fight back. You don't have anything left in you, not anymore. She tries to get your attention when you leave, but you don't look back. When none of them hear from you, Kimiko begs The Boys to do everything they can to find you. Please, she has to make things right.

Bonus! Homelander cuts people out of life left and right. Still, you never thought he would turn on you. And yet, when you don't know who the snitch is, when you're not closer to pinpointing the culprit, he loses it. His eyes even heat up, though he catches himself, calming himself down. Firecracker interrupts his yelling, foolishly, but in the end it saves you from hearing anymore about how pathetic, useless, stupid you are. That you don't deserve to be a part of The Seven, you don't deserve to be a Supe at all. He goes off with her, believing it was Webweaver all along. You don't know how much time you have, but you know, in order to avoid his wrath, you have to leave right away. Get some space between you so that he can cool off, if he ever does. You took it as a pretty clear way of saying that you were out, you lost his trust. You weren't a friend anymore, you weren't anything anymore. Firecracker had saved the day. Again. When he comes back, covered in blood and no closer to finding the narc than he was before, he goes looking for you. He searches the entire city, but you've disappeared completely. Vanished.

[daisymbin]

Can I request #15 from the second chance list with Vernon? Except, it’s the reader saying it to him?

of course!!!

full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // hansol's m.list

second chance prompt #15: "you deserved someone better than me."

"you deserved someone better than me."

the words lingered in hansol’s mind, repeating like a broken record. it had been two weeks since you said them, two weeks since you disappeared without giving him the chance to respond. two weeks of unanswered calls and ignored texts.

and now, there you were, sitting at a dimly lit bar, nursing a drink. hansol had spotted you from across the room, his heart sinking when he noticed the man leaning too close, his hand brushing against your arm as you tried to pull away.

hansol didn’t think—he just moved.

in seconds, he was beside you, sliding his arm around your waist and pulling you against him. the warmth of his body made you freeze.

“she’s got a boyfriend,” hansol said, his voice steady, almost threatening. “so why don’t you back off?”

the man’s eyes darted between the two of you before he held up his hands in mock surrender. “relax, man. didn’t know she was taken.”

as soon as the man walked away, you shoved hansol’s arm off of you, spinning around to face him. “what the hell are you doing here?”

“you think i’m just going to let him bother you like that?” hansol snapped, his eyes searching yours. “what was i supposed to do? stand back and watch?”

“i didn’t ask for your help,” you shot back, stepping away from him.

the hurt in his eyes was immediate, but he didn’t let you pull too far. his hand shot out, gripping your wrist firmly but not harshly. “don’t,” he said quietly. “don’t walk away from me. not again.”

you froze at his words, your heart pounding in your chest. “sol, please...”

“no,” he interrupted, his voice cracking slightly. “i’m not letting this go. you ghosted me. you didn’t even give me a chance to talk, to understand why you left.”

you tugged at your wrist, but his grip remained firm. “i told you why. i’m not good enough for you. you deserve someone—”

“stop,” he cut you off, his tone sharper now. “stop saying that. do you have any idea how much it hurt to hear you say that and then just leave?”

your throat tightened, guilt washing over you. “hansol, i was trying to make it easier for you. i didn’t want you to—”

“to what?” he demanded. “to fight for you? to tell you how wrong you were?”

his words stunned you into silence.

“you think you’re not enough, but you never gave me the chance to tell you how much you mean to me,” hansol continued, his grip on your wrist loosening slightly. “you didn’t even let me fight for us.”

your vision blurred as tears welled up in your eyes. “i didn’t want you to waste your time on me.”

“waste my time?” hansol repeated, his voice softer now but filled with disbelief. “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. do you know how hard it’s been these past two weeks? not knowing if you’re okay, not knowing if you...”

he trailed off, his free hand running through his hair in frustration. “you didn’t even give me a choice. you just decided i deserved better and left.”

your shoulders sagged, and you finally let the tears fall. “i thought i was doing the right thing,” you whispered.

“you weren’t,” hansol said, his tone firm but not unkind. “the right thing would’ve been staying. the right thing would’ve been letting me love you, flaws and all, because that’s what you do when you care about someone.”

you looked up at him, your heart breaking at the sight of his pained expression. “i’m sorry,” you said, your voice trembling. “i thought... i thought i was protecting you.”

“protecting me from what?” he asked, stepping closer. his free hand cupped your cheek, wiping away a tear with his thumb. “from being happy? from being with the person i love?”

your breath hitched at his words, and for the first time, you let yourself really look at him—at the hurt, the longing, and the love that still lingered in his eyes.

“i thought you’d be better off without me,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“well, you thought wrong,” hansol replied, his tone softening as his thumb brushed against your skin. “because these past two weeks? they’ve been hell. and if that’s what life without you is like, then i don’t want it.”

you closed your eyes, tears spilling down your cheeks as his words sank in. “i’m sorry,” you repeated, your voice breaking.

“then come back to me,” hansol said, his forehead resting against yours. “don’t run anymore. just... let me love you.”

his words were your undoing. with a shaky breath, you nodded, your hands reaching up to clutch at his shirt.

“okay,” you whispered, your voice trembling but full of resolve.

“okay?” hansol repeated, his lips curving into a small, hopeful smile.

you nodded again, and before you could second-guess yourself, he pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you like they never wanted to let go.

“don’t ever do that again,” he murmured against your hair. “don’t leave me like that.”

“i won’t,” you promised, your voice muffled against his chest.