#cries screams falls on the floor wails

[cherrylight]

keep forgetting its my blog i can do whatever i want </3

[peachesofteal]

you satisfy the urge to see Ghost with little babies and simultaneously make me want more of him with little babies

Light on - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader

He sleeps like the dead on and off for the almost three days.

Uninterrupted, undisturbed, face buried in a pillow, television cranked as loud as he can get away with, the noise one of the only things capable of lulling him to sleep and keeping him under when he’s not on an op or in an active engagement zone. He gets up to eat, use the bathroom or shower, climb the four floors to the roof to smoke, but otherwise, he sleeps. He eats, and sleeps, and repeats this very simple routine, as he always does when he’s here, until it’s interrupted one night, by the tap of a hesitant knock on his door.

The sound freezes his blood, every nerve ending in his body lighting up in alert, muscles priming for an offensive position. He finds the one of many guns stashed in the flat on his way to open the door, mask slipping over his face, holding the weapon tucked carefully behind his body as he looks through the peephole to find… you. The girl from the roof, the baby, Emmaline, in your arms, your eyes nervously darting down the hallway before looking back to his door expectantly. Shit.

“I’m sorry.” You rush out immediately when he opens it, peering up at him with exhausted eyes. Emma is against your chest, and one of your hands cradles her head, the other under her bum, while you bounce her up and down while also rocking back and forth. “I don’t mean to be a pain in the arse but, is there any way I can ask you to turn your TV volume down a bit?” You try to smile but it straightens into a grimace and then your eyes dart to the ground before looking back up at him. “We uh, share a wall.” You tilt your head to the left, to the unit next to his and his eyes widen. “I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to bother you, I’m not trying to be that neighbor but-“ Jesus Christ. You share a wall with him? His mind drifts to an image of you asleep in your bed, tucked up under your covers all sweet, lashes laying delicately on your cheeks.

“Of course. It’s not a bother.” The baby cries in response, a broken wail making her lower lip tremble and you pat her back soothingly until she quiets, little hiccups coming from her mouth while she rubs her face into your shirt.

“Thank you.” You’re still bouncing, still swaying, and he’s mystified, watching you stroke a gentle finger through her fine curls. She yawns sleepily against you, and the tension leaks from your body a bit, spine slumping slightly, shoulders relaxing a notch. You look down at her, checking for something he doesn’t understand, before raising your radiant, tired face back up to his. He really, really wishes he wasn’t holding a handgun behind his back right now. “They told me, when I rented… that you weren’t around much. I thought it’d be a good fit since…” you gesture with an eyebrow towards Emmaline, and he nods.

“I travel for work.” His voice sounds more raspy than normal, a byproduct of too much sleep, something you look like you’d probably kill to have. Fuck. He’s been blasting his television while you’ve been up with a screaming baby for two bleedin’ days.

“Right, well I hope we won’t be too noisy for you, when you are home.” A door slams on third floor above the two of you, the bang of it swinging shut too loud and you tense, something bleak flickering across your face before it’s chased away with a half-forced smile. “Anyway… thanks, again.”

“Of course.” He repeats it, like it’s obvious, and then just as you turn away, he remembers something: “I’m Simon.” You glance back at him, timid smile tugging at your lips, your own name falling from your mouth like you’re giving him a gift.

“Oh, and you know Emmaline already.” You lightly tease, and he nods, his own lips lifting in an almost smile behind the mask in response.

[writing-fanics]

Nothing lasts forever

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

[warning: cheating: angst: panic attack: implied death]

‘More than anything music box’

As you stood there, your heart felt as though it had stopped beating at that very moment. Your breathing started to slow down as your smile faltered and transformed into a frown. A look of profound sadness and sorrow took over your face as you gazed at the scene before you.

Your eyes were fixed on Lucifer, one of the most beautiful angels in all of Heaven, the one you had opened your heart up to and shared your deepest feelings with.

But now, you were witnessing him cheating on you with Lilith, the first woman and Adam's wife. The pain you felt was almost unbearable, as you watched the love of your life betray your trust and shatter your heart into a million pieces.

You could feel your throat closing as your breathing quickened. You felt sick to your stomach as if someone had punched you in the gut. You wanted to throw up. You wanted to scream. To cry, to disappear from existence. You couldn’t believe he’d do such a thing to you, were you not enough?

Were you not as beautiful as she is? Were you too clingy? To annoying? Why did he betray you and your trust?

He promised to always be by your side when you needed him, to always catch you when you fall. To be your shoulder to cry on. To never break your trust.

But here he was breaking that very promise and trust, leaving you feeling empty and hollow. The two of you were made for each other, and with the scene unfolding before you. Made you think otherwise.

“I love you, Lilith,” whispered Lucifer, as he stared at Lilith in awe kissing her on the lips.

Your whole world shattered as your back hit the tree, and you slid down onto the ground. Placing your hand over your mouth, muffling your wails. You couldn’t breathe and felt the world closing in on you. You were nothing to him. You sniffled quietly placing your head into your hands, and wept as you swiftly flew away.

You fell into a heap on the floor of your house, sobbing as you curled up into a ball. You saw everything and what you saw would forever be engraved into your memory, you’ll never get it out of your head. Seeing them like that, him like that with another woman. Made your stomach turn, how could he do such a thing to you?

“W- Was I not enough?” You whimpered, as you lay in the fetal position. Your face is red and puffy cheeks stained with tears, your heart aching and unbearable pain. You knew he felt what you were going through at this moment, and couldn’t care less to comfort you. Your love was bound and could feel each other's emotions when they became severe, and you knew for a fact he could feel it.

But didn’t care enough to comfort you. He was having too much fun with Lilith, doing things that he should only be doing to you his lover.

You thought he would never do such a thing to you. Never betray you and break your heart, and here he was ripping it right out of your throat. If he had noticed you would he have stopped? Would he have kept going? Taunting you, teasing you, on an act he’d never done to you. Such an act he’ll never do to you now.

You thought your relationship was good perfect even. Yes, you had the occasional fight but would always end up back in each other’s arms, holding each other lovingly. Feeling safe and secure in each other's warm embrace.

“I'm so sorry, my dear duckling," he whispered, pulling you close and showering your shoulder with gentle kisses. "Please know that I understand how you feel.”

"I forgive you, Luci," you said, enveloping him in a warm embrace and smiling through your tears as he held you. He pressed a tender kiss to your forehead and whispered comforting words in your ear, promising to make things right.

You banged your fist against the cold ground; gripping at the fabric of your clothes, as you cried. The tears didn’t seem to stop and wouldn’t anytime soon. You couldn’t breathe, the room around you started to spin. You felt dizzy and nauseous, feeling bile rising in your throat causing you to gag. You swallowed and gripped the side of your head.

You tossed it to the ground, screaming and crying in anger and frustration. “HOW COULD HE DO THIS TO ME!” You shouted, trashing everything that reminded you of him. You couldn’t stop crying, the things this man did to you. How he made you smile and laugh, how he made you fall head over heels.

You wanted to disappear and fade back into dust, your original form. To not be forced to live with this pain for all eternity, knowing that even after this you’d still love him. He’d come back and apologize slowly making up for it but…..

You stood there with the other angels, his siblings trying their best to comfort you. As you watched him be banished from Heaven, cast down with his new lover. Leaving you there alone in Heaven, with no shoulder to cry on.

You found yourself standing amidst a group of angels, feeling a sense of unease and trying hard to keep yourself composed. As you looked ahead, you noticed him standing before Lilith, his wings stretched out protectively, shielding her from any harm. The sight of him being so close to Lilith made your heart ache with a mixture of emotions.

You couldn't help but wonder if you were so unpleasant to look at that he couldn't even spare a glance in your direction. The whole situation left you feeling conflicted, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy towards Lilith, who seemed to have his undivided attention.

As you stood there looking at him, you noticed that his gaze had shifted to meet yours. It was then that you saw a hint of remorse in his eyes, and you couldn't help but feel a wave of sadness wash over you. In that moment, a single tear trickled down his cheek, and you averted your eyes, unable to bear the intensity of the situation.

As you looked away from him, he noticed the tears that had welled up in your own eyes, and the hollow, defeated expression etched on your face. It was a moment of deep emotional turmoil for both of you, and the silence that hung between you was almost suffocating.

“Nothing lasts forever,” Azrael said, as he placed his hand on your shoulder squeezing it gently in reasurrance.

You shook your head and stepped outside of the courtroom, stopping at the stairs. You reached around your neck taking off the necklace, Lucifer had given you years ago.

You stared at it for a moment, opening it. A soft melody played, tears trickled down her cheeks as whisps of yellow magic swirled, around the locket music box. A duck swam in a pond while a swan, swam up next to it nuzzling their heads into each other.

As she witnessed the heartwarming scene unfolding before her, she couldn't help but let out a choked sob. A tearful smile graced her face as she watched the duck and the swan gradually transform into Lucifer and You, respectively. The two characters held each other closely, their embrace exuding a sense of comfort and security.

Lucifer, still holding onto You, took to the skies, flying around with exuberance. His laughter filled the air, and his smile was contagious. You, too, shared in his joy, reveling in the moment with him.

As they soared through the clouds, a vivid memory of their first kiss flashed before your eyes. You remembered how you had wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, and he had held you close to him. The moment had been magical, and it was a memory that you cherished deeply.

You smiled, closing the locket as a gust of wind blew the magic away, and you along with it, returning back to your original form to dust.

A/n: idk what I just created there’s no part ii for this unless y’all beg me for it but idk still]

Taglist

@froggybich

[liketolovexx]

heyyy, can i request good old enemies to lovers with so much angst but ends with fluff with sirius??? maybe they used to be friends before and Sirius just suddenly turned cold? and the reader was giving the same energy and all they do is bicker and one time the reader just burst out about how siri is being a prick and then it ends with confession?? it's very long 😭😭im sorry

Hey guys!!! Sorry I’m going through requests VERRRRY slowly atm but please feel free to leave requests in my inbox for me to get round to <3 love u all so much

Also, I included reader seeing Regulus as a little brother figure and looking after him, because I can’t not :-( sorry if it puts u off the fic!!

(CW: LOTS of angst, child abuse from walburga, sad Sirius, sad Regulus, Sirius being cold and cruel to cope with loss, basically the reader being the black brother’s best friend, ends with fluff<3)

“I used to love you.” ~S.O.B

{you were from a pure blood family, best friends with Sirius Black. You comforted him through his mother’s cruelty, and fell in love along the way. Until Sirius ran away, leaving you to protect his little brother from harm out of the love you still held. Now, when you see him in school, you give him a reciprocated glare. But why does he hate you?}

“Sirius, come here!” Came the harsh, threatening voice of Walburga Black, she sounded angry, really angry, and you watched Sirius tense, looking up from the book you were reading together. His eyes were wide, face whiter than usual, holding much more terror than a little boy should ever have to endure. You put a hand on his shoulder, warming him in this cold house. “Hey, it’s fine. Whatever happens, you can come back up to me after. I’ll take care of you.” You told him. You may have been only children at the time, but the way Sirius nodded and his silver eyes softened and glittered with tears, you knew you had a certain way with him.

Alone in Sirius’s room, you played with your hands, shoulders stiff as you listened to the mother scream ruthlessly at her son, trying not to picture the broken, guilty, vacant expression you knew would be adorning Sirius’s tear-stained face. You couldn’t hear Sirius’s responses to Walburga’s yelling, you knew he froze up when he was scared, so he’d be mumbling in response. “I DONT CARE IF YOUR FRIEND IS UPSTAIRS. YOU ARE A DISGRACE ALREADY!” She yelled. You had to cover your ears when gut-wrenching cries and wails started to echo up the stairs. Walburga was using the crucio curse on her son. Again.

~~~

Soon, the screams ceased and Sirius rushed up the stairs and into his room where you still sat. He slammed the door desperately, and crumbled to the floor beneath it, shaking like a leaf and loud sobs starting to make his small back heave. You leaped off of his bed and knelt beside him. Hesitantly, you reached out to touch his back, but he flinched away from you with a sharp, choked gasp. That was when the first crack painfully sliced its way through your heart. To see your best friend weak and bawling on the floor of his bedroom, scared of even you, was an agonising feeling. Eventually, Sirius realised you wouldn’t hurt him, and wiggled into your lap, crying quieter now. His head found its way into your neck as he cried, and you could feel his wet tears snaking down your skin.

“Sirius, I’m here.” You whispered into his disheveled black curls. At that, you felt his body weaken in your lap. Before you knew it, he was asleep ontop of you, your arms wrapped around him. He stirred, turning slightly, slipping down your body so his head lay comfortably on your chest, and your face scrunched in both pity and guilt. A puddle of thick crimson blood stuck his hair to his pale forehead. You hated yourself for not being able to stop his mother from hurting him. Watching his body rise and fall with each peaceful breath he took as he slept, you spat on your sleeve and wiped the blood away, earning a harsh twitch and broken whimper from the raven-haired boy. He deserved nothing but peace.

With Sirius draped over your body like a snow-white blanket, hair splayed over you like he’d claimed you as his own bed, the door creaked open. You tensed, holding Sirius tighter, ready to give anything to protect him if Walburga showed in the door, but instead, a small frame appeared. Regulus. “Oh, Regulus.. did the shouting scare you?” You ask softly. The boy nods. He’s the spitting image of his big brother. “Is Siri okay?” He murmurs, rubbing his eye. You nod. “C’mere.”

Regulus tucks himself into the crook of your arm, head laying on the flesh of your shoulder. With big eyes mirroring Sirius’s, he peers up at his brother. “Heard mama shouting at him. He breaked something, I think.” Regulus explains shyly. “Mh. Your mother isn’t kind to Sirius. She isn’t kind to you either.” You say, more to yourself than him. He still nods in agreement. You stroke Sirius’s hair as he shifts in his sleep. “I’ll get you both out one day. And… and me and Sirius can get married. And you can be the best man-“ you describe your fantasy to the small boy, who has a wonderful smile creasing his little face, eagerly listening to each and every detail of the life he hoped to one day live.

~~~

You were now both in hogwarts. Over the years, Sirius had become rebellious, learning to fight back to his mother, but this always resulted in the crucio curse, which resulted in him collapsing in your arms. You were, admittedly, all he had. You and his little brother, who he’d noticed following the path of his parents. He hated the fact that regulus was so obedient to their inane beliefs. He hated it. It was only you who could calm his rushing mind.

It took only one night for everything to change. You weren’t over at his house, so he was alone, and he had a particularly bad row with his mother. After using the crucio curse on the boy until his thin limbs were tangled and trembling on the ground, his jet black curls tangled and his bitten-raw lip quaking like a child’s. While he was in this state, his mother mocked him. All he wanted was to be in the safety of your arms right now. He knew that although you came from a pure-blood family, you were not evil. You were good. You were like him, but braver. Kinder.

That night, Sirius knew he couldn’t live in this house anymore. He packed a bag full of clothes, essentials, and was unable to resist taking Regulus’s old teddy bear, an old shirt of yours and a necklace that was matching with you. He tied up his dark hair and slipped on his leather jacket. He’d grown out his hair because his parents didn’t approve of it: he wore the jacket simply because his parents didn’t like the 70s-rocker look. He’d do anything to escape those sleek black suits, hair styled tidily, silver and jewels everywhere he looked. In this house, he was nothing but a decoration, so he vowed to make his appearance undesirable to his parents. But, you always thought it suited him. While he crept silently down the corridor, boots hardly making a sound on the fancy patterned carpet, he heard a creak. His heart stopped. Fuck, he thought. Its mum. I’m never getting out. Oh, god, I’m never getting out.

“Siri?”

A small voice asked. It was Regulus. Sirius spun around where he stood to see an unruly mop of black curls matching his, framing a pale, soft face that didn’t at all suit the bitter yet elegant brutality of his family. “Reg.” was all Sirius could squeak.

“…you’re leaving aren’t you?”

“…yeah.”

“Oh.”

Regulus looked at his feet. He looked back up at his older brother.

“I’ll be by myself, Sirius.”

Sirius’s jaw clenched. He fought back the tears.

“I’m sorry, Reggie. I love you.”

Regulus’s daintily perfect face crumpled. “You can’t go, Siri, I don’t-.” He swallowed. “I don’t want to be alone. Not with them.” Sirius opened his arms. His little brother crashed into them like he’d disappear if he wasn’t fast. “I’m sorry, reg. I love you, but I can’t stay.” He murmured. Regulus was now sobbing into his shoulder. Sirius felt like the worst person on earth. He needed to get to James’s house before his mother woke up. “Regulus, I have to go.” He told him, petting the back of his head. Regulus suddenly pushed his brother back. Sirius recognised this; the anger that reg was displaying. When he was the same age, when he felt vulnerable, he disguised it with anger. He still did. “F-fine. Go. I don’t need you.” Regulus spat, his glistening silver eyes betraying him. “You’re… you’re really… really mean, Sirius, you know that?” He tried to hiss, but it turned out as a cracked whimper. Sirius felt his heart shatter in his chest. Stinging tears dripped down his cheeks.

“I love you, Regulus.”

“…”

Regulus walked to his room.

~~~

Sixth year.

Sirius had decided that he couldn’t hurt you anymore. With him leaving home, being a blood traitor, he knew he’d only cause you trouble. He couldn’t bare the thought of it. Little did he know he’d be doing just that.

When break had ended, you’d gone to greet your best friend. “Sirius! I’m sorry I didn’t see you much over the holiday, god, how’s regulus? Are you-“ your shoulders clashed together as he continued walking. much to your confusion, he walked straight past you with the icy glare of his father. “…Sirius?” You tried again, catching up with him and grabbing onto his shoulder. The physical contact from the person he loved most hurt like the touch of searing iron, and he flinched away. “Fuck off! Can’t you just.. just fucking go away?” He growled. His silver eyes were a stormy grey, he hated himself more as he watched your face fall. “What..?” You breathed, looking so heartbroken. He hated himself for making you hurt as well as his little brother.

He hated himself, he hated himself, he hated himself.

Trying to soothe the ache in his chest, he rushed past you. He left you standing in the ruins of what he had torn down.

From then on, everything changed.

~~~

Sirius Black was not your best friend anymore. He was cold and unresponsive, shooting you murderous glares whenever you saw him. He’d make offensive comments at you when he came close enough to communicate with you, and it confused you immensely. What happened to the boy who came to you for comfort? Who cried in your arms and begged you to keep him safe and warm? What happened to your boy? Your best friend? Only god knows.

You didn’t even know Sirius had run away until your parents informed you that you couldn’t go around to the Black’s house anymore. This had sparked a heated argument. “What? He ran away? He didn’t tell me!” You’d exclaimed. “Yes. To the Potter’s house, we hear. Walburga has burned his picture off of the tapestry, and-“

“Wait, what? I can’t go round anymore? What about Regulus?”

“No. Walburga doesn’t allow guests to see her children anymore.”

“What? No, no, no, I need to see Reg. come on, Dad, he needs me!”

Long story short, your argument was to no avail. You couldn’t see Regulus. You couldn’t protect him from his parent’s wrath like you had his brother. Alike Sirius, you spent some of your nights lying awake thinking about Regulus, alone and cold in that hellish house, and most of your night thinking about Sirius, and what you did to make him despise you so.

Soon enough, You and Regulus had fixed your relationship, and many nights you’d find yourself singing the youngest Black brother to sleep. You could comfort him from within the walls of hogwarts where his mother couldn’t hurt him. Even when Sirius hated you, you cared for his brother like he was your own.

~~~

At first, you’d tried to coax Sirius into talking to you. You’d stood with tight lips while he insulted you, and listened to his hateful, meaningless rants. You noticed how his friends, James, Peter and Remus, stopped egging him on when it came to you, and started nudging him or trying to distract him, as if he’d say something he’d regret. But you’d come to think that Sirius black was remorseless.

You weren’t sure why he’d switched up on you, become so mean. You did, however, decide that you would be just as harsh right back to him. You knew you could never bring yourself to hate him. He owned your heart, whether you liked it or not. You learned to hate that you couldn’t help that.

It had soon been a year. One torturous year of finding your spells book torn to shreds, looking at dark eyes that you once knew so well only to see an unrecognisable boy. The smirk that once brought warmth to your chest now opened a bottomless pit in your stomach. With each day, you ached more and more. So did he. Sirius loathed himself indescribably. He knew that if he told you, even after the torture he’d subjected you to, you’d kiss his forehead like old times and tell him it was okay. Tell him that he was good, and he’d never be like his parents, and that you were there for him. You were an amazing person, and he was horrible. But he couldn’t drop his facade now.

You were just trying to study when a voice you’d come to find agitating and grating permeated the silence of the library. “Ooh, little blood supremacist… what you studying? Dare I say dark magic?” Rolling your eyes, you slammed the textbook shut. “shut up, Black. You came from quite the same roots.” “Maybe: but I was brave enough to get out. I was good enough to get out.” He retorted with a grimace. Looking up to meet his cold gaze, you noted that his creased white shirt was unbuttoned, his crimson and gold tie hanging loose over his shoulders, only curls pinned up carelessly with his wand. A dangerous hairstyle, for sure.

“Would you give it a break? I was the reason you didn’t go crazy in that house.”

“I did go crazy in that house.”

“Yeah, I can fucking tell.” You said with a scoff. He pulled away your notebook. “So, have you got the dark mark yet? Godric knows you’ll be ecstatic-“ “why are you such a dick, Sirius?!” You yell hoarsely, jumping to your feet. His eyebrows furrowed at your outburst. Slightly, his eyes softened at the sight of your glassy ones, brimming with unshed tears. He said nothing, lips parted. “You’re.. you’re a fucking prick. I never did anything to you.” Turning away to hide your face which had turned pink as it did when you were about to cry, You started upstairs to your dormitory.

~~~

knock, knock, knock.

Someone rapped on your dorm’s door.

Knock, knock, knock, knock. Knock, knock. Knock.

Someone was incredibly impatient. You used the palm of your hand to dry your eyes slightly and sniffled. “What? Who is it?” You croaked. A voice answered, “please can I come in?” You frowned. This time, it was a voice you knew. You recognised it, broken and weak, pained, yet honey-smooth all the same. That was your Sirius. Your heart hurt again knowing you’d never have him back, not fully. You fully believed this was another of his cruel pranks.

“Come in.” You mumbled.

As Sirius muttered your name, you felt you were transported back to your childhood. When you’d play and read together. Laugh and smile. “What do you want, Black.” When you said that, his lip twitched, face scrunching slightly. He looked as if the words physically pained him. With that expression painted on his face, he looked just like he did as a child. Except now, his hair was longer, his face more angular, more beautiful. “Don’t call me that. Please.” He begged, voice cracking with emotion. You looked up at him with a waning expression of anger. “Why not? You have been awful to me, I will call you what I choose.” You say. He whimpers pitifully.

He shuts the door behind him. You hear him mumble something. “What did you say, Black?”

“I’m in love with you.”

Your body is tense. Everything is silent. You have one question.

“Why were you so angry with me when you left?”

He hesitated, before answering as raw and truthful as he can. “Because I was stupid. I knew nothing but that I loved you. And I hated myself, and I couldn’t hurt you any further.”

“What? Hurt me? Hurt me how?”

“I burdened you all those years, with my weeping and pathetic pleas for comfort after my mother hurt me. When I could only feel safe shrouded in your warmth. I needed you. And I need you now. I’ve loved you since the moment I met you.”

Nothing felt real. You reached a hand out, and Sirius lowered himself so that his cheek rested in your palm. It was cold.

“You’re cold.” You stated blankly.

“I’m fine.” He protested.

You pulled him into your bed. Seconds later, you stretched out your arms. With a sob of relief, Sirius fell into your embrace. He cried silently into your neck for a while, reminiscent of the time you helped him as a kid, except this time you were both much bigger. You pet his hair affectionately, a tear sliding from your eye. “I missed you so much. I’m so, so in love with you. You don’t even need to love me back. I just… need this.” He said, voice muffled as he presses his face into your shoulder.

“…I never stopped loving you.” You admit, pulling him in closer.

~~~

You both spoke through the night, smiling and laughing and talking, telling secrets and jokes and all of the inbetween. He was so beautiful in the dim light of the lamp in your dorm. He was so beautiful anywhere. “You’re so beautiful.” He whispered, sounding lovesick and dazed. You laughed softly. “You don’t even know how beautiful you are. But that doesn’t matter to me.” You kiss his forehead, before pulling back and looking deep into his eyes. “You are good.” He practically melts into you.

Sirius falls asleep safe in the crook of your arm, and you fall asleep with one arm under him and the other around his waist, with the peace of mind that you can protect him always, now. Your boy. Your Siri.

You looked down at him, running your fingers through the roots of his hair. He moans lowly in satisfaction, practically purring as he presses himself against you. “Now we can get married: with Reggie as the best man, just like we dreamed. With a pretty house and a four-poster bed.” You said, a sweet, hopeful smile gracing your lips.

“Mmmh.” Sirius groaned sleepily. “As long as we can christen that bed.” He added, eyes still closed, with that stupid Sirius Black smirk on his face. You scoff, hugging him closer, before falling asleep yourself.

~~~

(Please don’t copy or share any of my writing anywhere else!!)

[konigsblog]

i think about this a little too often...

synopsis; kidnapped by a ‘photographer’ who spares you no mercy.

photographer, kidnapper-könig thots™

tw/cw; rape, non-con/dub-con, dark fiction, sexual assault and assault, kidnapping, the dove is dead. dead dove: do not eat. 🔞

photo credits; x_bruisedpeach_x on x/🐦

if someone had warned you that the sweet boy who had approached you down the street claiming to be a model photographer was in fact a violent man, who'd kidnap and beat you until you were unrecognisable and nothing but a bloodied mess on his dirty basement floor, you wouldn't believe them.

könig came across as calm and relaxed, he seemed sweet when you spoke to him, with a surprisingly quiet voice for someone of his size.

at first, he came across as threatening and intimidating as he towered over you and gazed at you creepily before finally speaking up, but after inviting you down the road for a coffee together to talk about his photography career, you had agreed eagerly to come around to his house to take some photos together and act as a model for him. you should've been alarmed from the start when a random, old pervert had asked to take pictures of you, but the thought and dream of becoming a model left you blind to any and all danger, falling for his depraved, immoral plan to kidnap a pretty little thing like you for himself.

when you stepped into his house, the atmosphere shifted suddenly and completely. könig no longer radiated a sweet, calm energy that you once knew of. instead, könig was no longer smiling sweetly, but instead a sickening grin curled the sides of his mouth with terrifyingly wide eyes staring into your soul, enough to scare you into silence. you choked on your words as könig began to inch closer before dragging you downstairs into his basement by your hair. his grip was tight, firm. he held your hair in his fist and would drag you, throwing you downstairs despite your wails and mortified screams. it's a shame that he lives in a secluded area, far from any other neighborhood or town, where nobody would hear your wails for help.

you were a vulnerable and naïve mess. he almost felt guilty and remorseful for this treatment when he threw his fist at you repetitively, seeing how you'd eventually come to take his beatings out of horror and terror, blood running down your chin from your split lip. you were too gorgeous for any other man and he worried someone would take you away for themselves. he didn't want people to recognise you from the missing person posters put up around the city, with your face plastered on all the pictures, so instead, he left your face swollen with marks, making sure that you were always bruised with a slap, punch, or spanking.

although one thing was true. not his attitude and the persona he put on, the façade of a kind-hearted boy. the truth was that he wanted to take photos of you, but not for modeling, for his own sick enjoyment, gratification, and pleasure.

the basement wasn't like any other modeling shoot you'd seen in movies or television shows. instead, there was a metal table that könig had strapped you down to, and one large camera recording the entire thing. you were stripped naked, your dignity stripped alongside your clothes. you couldn't fight it, not when you were weakened and understood what would happen if you cried too loudly and irritated him or distracted him for his work, or used your sharp nails and canines against him as weapons.

bare on his table, könig began to record despite the obvious discomfort and mortification in your wide, glossy eyes. the flashing red light left you ashamed, feeling too raw and exposed with your legs forced open and your puffy cunt for him to admire and grope. he'd pinch and clamp your sensitive clit, until you sobbed out painfully, only to be forced to take his girthy and lengthy size for hours on end until he had his fill for the day. although könig warned you not too weep too loudly, he desired the sound of your sobbing, to harden his already stiff cock.

nothing would stop könig from raping every hole you have, to use these videos and pictures for his own personal usage.

[nishikiace]

fucking dazai against a window

ftm! bottom! Dazai Osamu

Warnings: top!male!reader, dom!reader - amab anatomy, ftm!character - afab!anatomy, grinding, wall / window sex, rough sex

[masterlist]

its a rite of passage for anyone who has ever met dazai to want to push him out of a window because he's just so damn annoying.

for you though, it's more fun to push him into a window. a floor-to-ceiling highrise somewhere in the port mafia headquarters, where he's not supposed to be.

your hand is clasped over his neck and holding his head to the glass, biting meanly at his lips and inhaling every moan that rips from his throat as your hips grind between his legs. your other hand travels to his underwear, teasing the rim of the fabric and feeling his stomach shake under each feather-soft touch.

dazai squirms impatiently and wraps his legs around your hips, bucking tightly, rubbing his soaked cunt all over your slacks, gyrating his achy clit against your cold sharp zipper through his panties.

"p-please, touch me already!" he whines, glassy eyes pleading you to spread him out and stuff him full.

your hand dips sharply into his soaked underwear to pinch his clit, earning loud yelp, before you tear the fabric away to reveal his pulsing cunt to the cold air. you grind his bare pussy harder into your belt and zipper as he wails from the cold metal and sharp texture and writhes in painful pleasure.

"don't! nng, please! wait-ah! fuck me!" dazai begs with a wrecked sound.

you grin, "why should i?" gripping his thighs tighter around your waist to rut harder between his shaking legs.

"i need you inside s-so fucking bad," the zipper catches on his clit. "FUCK! p-please!"

he's about to cry, so you should probably take some mercy on him. you unbuckle and unzip with one hand, the other supporting him between the glass and your body. you grip your cock and slide it between his slick pussy lips, skipping his hole with every pass. a loud whine escapes his lips as he bucks forward to try get you to just fuck him already so you stop.

grabbing your cock, you tap the head roughly against his clit, dazai's thighs involuntarily spasming with each tap and high pitched whimpers leaving his shaking lips. just as he's opening his mouth to beg more, you grip onto his hip and push in with one rough stroke. a scream rips from dazai's marked throat, head hitting the glass and back arched into you, eyes rolling and tears finally falling as he gets filled.

"w-wait! too fast! that's too much!" he pleads in between punched out screams as you fuck into him violently, grinding his clit between your bodies. his mouth is wide open from panting and the fullness of your cock in his tight cunt, so you spit in his mouth and watch him drool more. he can't stop himself from incoherently babbling every time he feels the head of your cock bully his cervix, wailing as you speed up and fuck his fragile body into the cold glass with each mean thrust.

suddenly he chokes, screaming breaking in his throat as his back arches painfully and his pussy gushes out clear liquid all over your cock. you can feel his insides trembling and spasming as you push in.

"no more... fuck please no more!" dazai cries, hurtling towards another orgasm that tenses and shakes his weak body. he grabs onto you desperately, curling into your body as he shudders and sobs into your shoulder, convulsions wracking his frame. a few more thrusts and you bury deep inside his beaten cunt before slipping out and dropping your hold on his body.

with nothing to press him to the window, his legs give out and he lands on the floor weakly, pussy spread open to the cold air. his thighs are glistening and his abused cunt is drooling onto the parquet with creamy slick and cum, flushed chest rising and falling rapidly as he fails to return to reality. the window behind him is cracked.

"don't try to sneak in again." you say, fixing your irreparably stained trousers and walking out.

[certainlynotasimp]

Okay, first of all, how are you? Hope you’re doing well! Drink plenty of water, stay hydrated- Second off, your Sunny fics? *chef’s kiss* so mainly, what if anybody made Sunny cry and Miguel had to find out about it? And Sunny’s trying not to make it seem like a big deal in order to keep Miguel from, you know, absolutely obliterating anyone.

Come on, Baby, Cry.

((Miguel O' Hara X Female! Reader))

A/N: Oh my goodness, thank you so much for the compliment. All my readers? *Extra chef's kisses* I am very hydrated and I got so excited to write this for you and to add some angsty content lol. I hope you enjoy this and let me know if you are disappointed or if you love it.

A/N: I also wanna address two things before I post this too. 1) thank you so much to the anon who asked me to include translations for the Spanish phrases as I was honestly not thinking about doing that. I will do better to include the translations at the end of the fics. 2) There are gonna be some triggering topics explored in this one-shot so if you don't want to hear about near injuries to children or child loss, then I understand if you don't want to read it. Feel free to enjoy my other fanfics and here's the post where you can stay notified on happier Sunny and Miggy fanfics.

Warnings: Grumpy x Sunshine, Barely using (Y/N) ((Sunny is just their nickname, not their actual name.)), Female pronouns, PTSD, Mentions of Child Loss, Endangerment of a Child ((No children were actually hurt, just traumatized)), Trauma, Comforting, Fluff, Angry Miguel, and Google Translate Spanish.

The room fills with squeals and giggles as the chase between the chubby toddler and the jumping spider. Mayday swings her little self around the corridor as the young woman follows behind amused by how agile the little tyke was. 

‘Maybe she’ll make a good sidekick in the future.’ The smiling woman muses in her mind before a bloody image flashes in her mind. Shaking her head, she clears the idea out of her mind as Mayday reaches an open window. 

Her quick scream of horror as she accidentally swings herself out of the window causes the woman’s blood to run cold as she flings herself out of the window after her. “MAYDAY!”

The adrenaline coming from her heightened fear causes the whole thing to appear to be trapped in time as the spider woman falls with the screeching infant falling inches away. Tears clouded her vision as she shoots out her webbing to the pillars around them as the images of flames lick at her eyes. 

So many flames, and too many buildings at once. Screams and pleas from below as she tries to be there. They didn’t matter to her, not at that moment. The only one who mattered was him. Did he scream like that too or did he not even feel it?

Using her webbing, she quickly creates a hammock for Mayday to fall on a few feet from the ground, thankfully trapping the wailing infant so she can’t escape. Unfortunately, reality doesn’t set in time for the spider as she slams into the titanium flooring below, knocking the air out of her lungs.

Many spidermen gathered as they heard the commotion, but she could only focus her blurry vision above her as she tries to regain her sight. A familiar blur of bright pink swings up and grabs the ball of ginger hair in a muddled mess of cries. He quickly drops down to where the disoriented woman was splayed out below with the whimpering infant in his arms.

“Hey, Sunny, you alright?” Peter calls his friend. The damage didn’t look bad from the outside, but he was sure she had some nasty concussion with how she was looking at him.

Hobie crouches down beside the crumbled girl and carefully lifts her head up with one hand. “Oi, Sunshine, you there?” He mutters as he looks into her eyes. He holds up his hand and makes three fingers pop up. “How many fingers do you see, love?”

With a cough, the woman croaks out, “Three?” Her eyes begin to focus as her enhanced healing works out the stars in her vision. With the help of Hobie and Peter, she stands up with a whimper at the feeling of her shattered ribs forming back together. “Damn, I forgot that falling several feet actually hurt.” She attempts to joke despite her wheezing breath. The crowd around them laughs as Peter sighs in relief.

“Thank god, you’re alright.” Peter mourns as a glint of regret shines in his eyes. “I’m sorry for all this, Sunny. I shouldn’t have let her bring the web shooter here. She almost swings herself out of the window all the time and MJ told me that one day I won’t be there to help the next time it happens.” Mayday’s cries end as she sees her favorite play partner up and well as she shows off her gummy smile.

“Well, luckily I was here to save the day.” The disoriented spider muses as she returns the infant’s smile as the men chuckle. The crowd dissipates leaving the injured spider with her two friends.

“I’m still really sorry, P. I got distracted and didn’t see that the window was open.” She winces as she blames herself for being so neglectful.

“Don’t sweat it, kid. This little rascal will probably send me to an early grave with all the mischief she causes.” Peter jokes as he tickles his now roaming daughter, chuckling at her excited squeals.

“Good thing you don’t have a kid, Sunny.” Hobie chuckles. “You would lose them in a heartbeat.”

The bright atmosphere shatters as the woman abruptly pulls away from her friends. The men look at her confused until they saw the look in her eyes. The normal warm and inviting gaze that they all thrived under was gone, only a dark void was staring back at them. Their light now shining in hurt and sadness as memories cloud her mind. Her lip trembles in a tight line as tears begin to roll down her face. 

Hobie looks confused at the sudden shift, but Peter realizes something as he looked at his trembling friend. Her eyes burned with tears as they locked with his. She had a haunted look about her. It's a look only parents can ever understand and fear. The look Peter himself almost experienced. “Hey,(y-” Before Peter can comfort her, she activates her mask and turns invisible before running off, her muffled sobs leaving them speechless.

Hobie groans as he realizes two things. One, he just made the sweetest person in the world cry. And Two,...

Miguel is gonna kill him.

~~~~~~~

The warm glow of the portal illuminates the surveillance room as the blue spider steps out covered in a musty yellow goo. Lyla smirks as she observes the little chucks slipping onto the ground as Miguel attempts to dust off the slime from his large shoulders.

“Was your mission successful, boss?” The assistant snarks as she sends out a little robot to follow the annoyed Spiderman. The little bug-like contraption eagerly swallows up the disgusting mess Miguel left as he walks up to the platform. “The anomaly was captured and disposed of. Next time, warn me if William Baker is made of anything except sand.” He grumbles as the sound of the little robot annoyed him even more. 

“I’ll make a note of that.” The AI giggles as she downloads the mission info from Miguel’s gizmo. “Also ‘Miss Sunshine’ is here and she doesn’t seem too happy.” She says before fading out.

Miguel’s eyes widen upon hearing that his sunny partner was upset. She was never upset. Never. With concern eating away at him, Miguel shoots out a web and swings himself to the platform above. He lands softly as he sees the scene in front of him.

His sunshine sat in his usual seat in front of the monitor. Her costume was dirty with a chest compression brace wrapped around her ribs as her choked sobs wheeze out of her. Her mask was off as her head rested against the ice pack in her hand, her back leaned forward as her attention was focused on the image before her.

He already knew what was on the screen.

He knew that file name by heart just like how he knows Gabriella’s.

File SW-0001425

World 16457-0

Spider-Woman- (Y/N) (L/N)

Age of infection- 23

Occupation- Intern Medical Research Assistant in the Genetics Department of { REDACTED } working under Dr. {REDACTED}

Sacrifice: Ben (L/N), age 4, Son of (Y/N) (L/N), 1 year into being Spiderwoman

Cause of death: Blunt Force trauma and Smoke inhalation caused by a multi-location attack caused by { REDACTED}

Status of Universe: DESTROYED

On the screen, the laughing face of a younger Sunny shines as a chubby cheek of a baby boy with dark curls smooshes into hers. The faint sound of a child mimicking the smooch of a kiss can be heard as the overexaggerated gasp of the woman causes the toddler to squeal. “That was such a sweet kiss, Benny. Can mommy have another one?” The sweet voice soured the air as the sobbing woman mournfully watches her baby boy.

The baby she failed.

Miguel approaches behind her and slowly takes the mouse from her weak grasp. The broken woman sighs as she realizes her miggy is here with her now, but doesn’t turn to look at him as he pauses the video. Her baby’s matching eyes stare right back at her before Miguel turns the chair around to face him as his mask disintegrates. His eyes glow red under the light of the monitors as he searched her sore eyes. Her face was red with a noticeable bruise along the left side of her face. Tears and snot crusted over her soft features as her lips remained turned into a trembling whisper. Her pupil shone in self-loathing and searching for his comfort. He could tell that this episode isn’t just one of her low days, something happened.

Something happened and he wasn’t here to stop it.

Miguel closes his eyes as his hand caresses her cheek. The warmth of her flushing face nuzzling into his palm allowed him to ground his rage as he focuses his gaze back onto his beloved.

“Mi luz, ¿qué pasó?” He seethes as he looks deep into her eyes. 

She shakes her head as she tries to avoid looking into his concerned ruby gaze. The glass bridge was already cracked as she internally debated with sobbing everything that happened into his warm embrace or to protect her friend from the wrath she knows Miguel will unleash if he knows what was said. The warmth of his other palm cupping her cheek, guiding her to a wandering eye to look at his frowning face nearly broke her.

“It was nothing, Miggy…”She whispered as her voice trembled again. She tried to control her eyes from unknowingly confessing while she tries to bite the wobbling pout. “It was an accident…”

“What.” Miguel runs his thumb under her abused mouth as a piece of her disheveled hair was swept back. “Happened?” His demand is punctuated as he holds her in his stare. His eyes burned with barely contained fury and protectiveness as he studied her reactions. “Odio verte como la suya, mi amor.” He admits with a sigh.

Leaning forward, Miguel places a firm kiss on her forehead as his beloved’s breath shudders at his touch. The gentle heat under his touch left her trembling as the glass began to crack. “Let me ease your pain…” He whispers as he trails his kisses down to her eyelids. “These eyes are meant to be filled with happiness, not sorrow…” The cracks deepen as he gently kisses her nose. “I can’t undo what has happened…” The corners of her lips were caressed by his as his nose brushed against her cheeks causing her eyes to meet his mirrors. Her sorrow and helplessness are reflected in his ruby eyes as he kneels on the ground between her legs. A silent plea breaks the resolve she built as he mutters into her ear.

“Please, mi sol, at least let me feel your pain too…It's me and you against the universe remember…Por favor no me dejes solo ... No quiero perderte de nuevo.” He begs as the tension shatters. 

With her arms snaking around his shoulders, the little spider confesses all that happened hours prior into his ear. Each detail, each scar, burned into his mind as she clung to his neck and hair. His inferno of rage almost imploded until he looked back into her eyes again. The relief of letting go of all of her troubles made her face look years younger as she looked at him with her big vulnerable eyes. 

Hobie will have to wait. His love needed him now.

In a silent nod, Miguel wrapped her weak legs around his waist before he stood up. Feeling her snuggling into his throat, he carries her toward her room down the hallway while the annoying robot follows them to clean up the mess. As he enters the room, he releases some of his anger by smashing the bug with his foot. 

“What was that, Miggy?” She croaks as she weakly tries to look over his shoulder.

“Just a bug,” He sighs as he approaches her dresser and grabs his spare set of clothes from his drawer. “You want your clothes or mine?”

“Yours…” She shyly admits as he feels the heat returning to the cheek on his neck. 

“Muy bien, niña bonita. Lo que quieras.” He whispers as he grabs another set of clothes that he knows will swallow her. With that, he carries them into her personal bathroom and spent the night slowly bringing back his sunshine.

~~~~~~~~

A deep scream rings out through the Lobby as they see a flash of blue fury tackles the residential metal head into the ground. Peter hurries to save his colleague along with a few other Spidermen as Mayday laughs at the anarchist getting thrashed by the clawed man spewing Hispanic curses at him.

~~~~~~~~~

Translations:

Mi luz, ¿qué pasó? - My light, what happened?

mi sol - my sun

Por favor no me dejes solo ... No quiero perderte de nuevo. -Please don't leave me alone...I don't want to lose you again

~~~~~~~

taglist:

@ameliadraws 

@tojisrightnut

@whyareyoubored

@silly-lovestruck-em

@luvil1y

@chims-kookies

@himesuedi

@22carolina08

@chaoticevilbakugo

@boredwithlifeatthispoint

@hoshhoshh

@isaidoop

@pheroineux

@rosiepetalss

@aniya7

[apute11as]

Hurt - Alexia and Jenni x child!reader

Summary: A trip to the park before a match leads to disaster and an emotional revelation.

Warnings:⚠️swearing, injury, hospitals, shouting

Based on this request🤍

Words: 2765

P.s. Any feedback or requests is always welcome in the comments or ask box! Both are very helpful in terms of writing more fics :)

~~~~~~~

It was a beautiful sunny day in Barcelona, you were at your favourite park with Tia Alba, Mama and Mateo’s other Mommy. You’d met up with them before the match where you’d watch Irene and Mami.

You knew Mama was now 6 months pregnant which meant that she couldn’t play football anymore. It also meant that she was less mobile and couldn’t move as quickly. There was an incident a couple of weeks ago with some pushy fans that wanted Mama’s autograph when the two of you were walking back from school. You shouted at the people like you knew Mami would if she was there, protecting your Mama and baby sibling. An older woman came to the rescue, ushering the invasive fans away and walking with the two of you for a bit.

Alexia hadn’t planned on mentioning the incident to Jenni but when you came out with an unprecedented “mean people shoved mama”, causing Jenni to flip out. After that, Alexia felt that she had to tell the story to diffuse her wife’s growing anger but in actual fact she made it worse. Jenni has become hesitant for Alexia to leave the house alone, knowing all too well how invasive the fans are of player’s private lives and more so, personal spaces.

However, she was fairly confident today that Alexia would be fine, being with her sister and Irene’s wife. Although, she would find that Alexia wasn’t the one she had to be worrying about today.

——

As the three women watched you and Mateo playing on the climbing frame, Alexia started to feel some discomfort. Nothing out of the ordinary, just a sign that she’d likely be needing to pee pretty soon.

“I’m going to go and see if I can find a bathroom, baby is making me uncomfortable” stated the blonde, attempting to hoist herself upwards which was hard due to the considerable bump she was now sporting.

“Are you okay Ale?” asked Lucia, alba was too preoccupied staring at a woman she found attractive.

“Yeah yeah fine thank you, just baby making me need to pee 24/7” chuckled Alexia.

“There’s an ice cream shop around the corner, I’ll come with you if that’s okay and we can get the kids an ice cream?” Questioned Lucia

“Yeah sure,sounds good! Albs can you watch the kids whilst we’re gone?” Alexia asked her younger sister.

“What? Oh yeah watch the kids of course” she replied, as if she’d been paying any sort of attention.

With that, the pair left in search of the ice cream shop, leaving a distracted Alba to watch over you and Mateo.

“Hola guapa” said the older brunette that Alba had been making eyes at

“Hola” replied Alba with a smile and the two began a conversation, distracting Alba further so that she failed to notice you planning to jump off the top of the tower to show off to Mateo.

——

“Look Mateo I’m the queen of the castle and you’re the dirty rascal!”

“Are you coming down now” groaned the boy

“Yes I’m gonna jump from the top!” You beamed

“That’s really high y/n what if you fall?”

“I won’t I’m a big girl!” You insisted

Then with little more warning, you lept off the high ledge of the climbing frame, falling to the floor and crumpling into a heap with a snap.

“AGHHHH” you screamed in pain.

Alba was oblivious to it all, putting the screaming down to being just children playing.

A couple of other mothers rushed in yours and Mateo’s direction on instinct after hearing the scream, being able to tell the difference between playful and pained. You lay on the floor, clutching your arm as the mother’s reached you.

“Are you ok sweetheart?” One asked

“Where’s your mommy?” Another said

“Mama gone!” You cried out

“Are you okay y/n?” Asked Mateo “shall I go get your Tia Alba?”

“want Mamaaaa!” You wailed

Mateo had ran off to tug at Alba’s skirt now and pointed in your direction to which Alba apologised to the woman and followed the little boy.

“Oh bebé are you okay?” asked alba cradling your face

“Are you her mother?” Spat a woman who looked to be in her late 30s.

“No I’m her Tia” Alba spat back “what happened?”

“She jumped and fell off the climbing frame which you would’ve noticed if you were paying any sort of attention!” shouted the woman.

“EXCUSE ME?” yelled Alba

“Tia Alba I want Mamaaaa” you cried

“Okay bebé, she’ll be on her way soon!” She assured you, turning her back to the mother she’d just argued with.

——

Alexia and Lucia had just returned from the shop, holding two ice creams. However, alexia quickly thrust the one she was holding into Lucia’s hand upon seeing Alba hunched over your small body. She ran as fast as she could to reach you.

“WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED ALBA?” She demanded, dropping to her knees at a pace that would’ve had Jenni scolding her for her carelessness.

“She jumped and fell” said Mateo from beside you.

“Oh Bebita come here” she said cradling you into her chest.

“Alba was talking to the pretty lady over there” said Mateo, telling on the brunette.

“Oh for fucks sake Alba really?” Alexia scolded furiously. “What hurts mi amor?” Alexia turned to you.

“My arm Mama” you whimpered, cried muffled by Alexia’s body.

——

After another trip to the ice cream shop bathroom to clean you up and a lot of arguing between Alexia and Alba, the group finally made it to the game, albeit a little later than intended.

You found your seats without much fuss, in the family and friends section of course. Mama sits beside you, you stand on your seat anytime anything interesting happens. Mama tries to join your standing up when the goals go in, but is reminded of her condition when the baby harshly kicks her in the ribs.

“Ouch!” She yelped

“Okay Mama?” You asked, brow furrowed in concern.

“I’m okay mi alma, bebé is just celebrating in there too” she assured you, rubbing her bump.

——

The game ended a comfortable 3-0 win over Sevilla, with your Mami scoring two of those goals. Your arm was hurting still but you didn’t want to tell Mama because she might start shouting at Tia Alba again. Mami and the team had just started to come out of the changing rooms to thank the fans and sign some stuff, when Mapi spotted you. She bounded over to where you were sat, dragging ingrid along with her.

“Hola mi chica how are you?” She shouted over the railings as Ingrid greeted Alexia, enquiring about the baby.

“You won Mapi!!” You cheered

“Si we did, your Mami scored two goals!” she reminded you

“Hold on bebita I’ll lift you over the railings and you can go see Mapi and Ingrid okay?” Questioned Alexia.

“No Ale you shouldn’t with the baby” insisted Mapi. Alba was at the bathroom and Lucia and Mateo had already excused themselves to go and greet Irene.

“I’m pregnant not frail, I can lift my daughter over a barrier” huffed Alexia, hoisting you to meet Ingrid’a waiting arms.

“OUCH” you yelped

“What hurts Elskling?” Ingrid questioned, concern flooding her face

“My arm” you sobbed

“She fell off the playground today and hurt her arm, because Tia Alba was too busy flirting with a married woman to pay attention” ranted Alexia, causing Mapi to burst out laughing at Alba’s discrepancies, earning her a slap of warning from Ingrid.

“Oh dear bebé is your arm alright?” Asked Ingrid

“It’s ok I guess let’s go I want to see Mami!” You urged

“Are you coming too Alexia?” Asked Mapi with a furrowed brow

“Si it might take me a minute to get down though” she laughed

“You go ahead with y/n Maps, I’ll help Alexia down and we’ll follow you” assured the Norwegian.

Mapi took you off Ingrid, carefully and started a fast walk over to the team. Upon reaching them, you were greeted with smiley faces of all the girls. You spotted Mama signing a fan’s jersey and waited patiently for her to be done.

Shortly after, she noticed you stood behind her, wearing a Barça jersey with her name on it.

“Oh mi amor there you are!” She exclaimed, tuning to face you.

“Mami! I loved your goals!” You beamed

“Did you, well there was one for you and one for Mama!!” She smiles back, reaching to pick you up. As she did, you felt a shooting ache spread through your arm.

“OW MAMI STOP!” You yelled, gaining the attention of some if the girls nearby.

“What bebita what hurts?” She asked, alarmed at your sudden pain.

“My arm, it feels floppy!” You burst into tears.

“Oh bebé come here!” she urged, carefully picking you up on the other side, avoiding the arm you cradled.

Just as you’d gotten into her arms, Alexia and Ingrid caught up with you. Upon noticing your tearful expression, she picked up her pace to meet you and Jenni.

“She’s hurt her arm Ale, I don’t know what happened I just picked her up and she started crying!” Jenni stammered

“It wasn’t you, she fell at the park earlier and landed on her arm, she’s complained about it a few times now, maybe we should go get it checked out” alexia offered

“Oh no bebita” she fawned over you “Yeah we should probably go to the hospital I mean it can’t hurt surely?” Jenni agreed.

——

The three of you made a swift exit out of the building, Jenni grabbed her bags whilst you and Alexia wandered to Jenni’s car. Jenni and Alexia told the girls what had happened and where they were going, which everyone seemed to understand.

You helped Mama into the car by rushing ahead to open her door, like you’d watched Mami do countless times. Mama thanked you by kissing your head with a smile and calling you a gentlewoman. Mami returned with her bags shortly after and the three of you made your way to the hospital.

Alexia was stressing throughout the whole car journey and was making some rather vulgar comments about Alba for leaving you alone and allowing this to happen. Jenni placed a steadying hand on her thigh, reminding her that you were fine and safe in the car with them (and that your little ears were likely picking up the string of words flowing from her mouth).

When you got to the hospital, you were trembling. The building was big and everyone was walking around in white outfits. You could feel that your Mama was stressed too with the way she was gripping your hand tightly and muttering through her teeth at your Mami for taking too long parking the car.

Upon entering, you were directed to the accident and emergency unit and were told to wait in the child’s waiting room. You got some funny stares from people, likely because you and Mama were dressed in matching “Jenni hermoso” Barcelona jerseys and Mami was wearing her Barça tracksuit.

“Erm hi could me and my brother maybe have a picture with you two?” Asked a timid girl that looked to be around 7 or 8.

“Of course!” Smiled Jenni taking the phone and positioning it to snap a selfie of the four of them, whilst you played with the blocks on the floor.

“Thank you so much!!” Grinned the girl.

“No problem” replied Jenni

“y/n putellas-hermoso” voiced a nurse from a nearby room, signalling that it was your turn to go in.

The nurse was pretty, she had long ginger hair and hazel coloured eyes that reminded you of Mama. She smiled at you, constantly asking if what she was doing was okay as she poked and prodded your arm. You yelped in pain couple of times, which lead her to the decision that you needed an X-ray.

You walked hand in hand with Mama and Mami to the next waiting room outside the X-ray. Mama clutched her belly in discomfort which caused Mami to worry more than she already was. You decided that you really didn’t like hospitals.

“¿Estás bien amor?” questioned Jenni

“Si just baby kicking around in there” she half smiled, half winced.

“And you bebita are you okay?” Asked Jenni looking down at you.

“I’m scared of the x-Ray machine are you coming with me?”

“Yes of course bebé!”

Around 20 minutes passed, you were playing candy crush on Alexia’s phone, Jenni was looking through a home magazine and Alexia was biting her nails anxiously.

“Stop stressing Alé it’s bad for for the baby” urged Jenni

“Wow thanks Jenni, all my stresses are gone from you saying that!” She snapped, rolling her eyes.

“Y/n Putellas-Hermoso?”

The three of you stood up to follow the new nurse, this nurse was different. She was an older lady and she had raggedy teeth and a mean glare. You didn’t like her she was scary.

Still you followed her, clutching onto Mama’s sleeve as you did. You reached the door to the X-ray area, it looked like a dungeon, your stomach felt bubbly and your hands felt warm.

“Now, it says on my records that you’re pregnant Mrs Putellas?” the scary nurse demanded.

“Erm yes?” Alexia replied, confused.

“Well radiation exposure from x-rays can be damaging to a foetus’ development so we have to ask you to stay out here” she gestured to a set of chairs. “However y/n is under 5, we need someone to oversee her x-Ray so you’ll have to accompany her” she signalled to Jenni.

“Yes okay that’s fine” assured Jenni

“Okay I’ll just get the details from the doctor and the we can begin, I’ll be just a minute” and with that she left.

“Mama why can’t you go with me too?” You huffed in annoyance.

“Because it is bad for the baby for me to go in there pequeña” explained Alexia.

“But I’m your baby too and it’s bad for me if you stay outside!” You demanded

“Hey it’ll be okay Mami is going in with you!” Alexia assured, making concerned eye contact with Jenni.

“You promised you wouldn’t love baby more than me and you already do!” you pouted, crossing your arms.

“Oh no bebita that’s not-“ she was cut off before she could finish.

“All ready?” Asked the nurse

“Si she is” spoke Jenni

——

The X-ray showed that you had in fact, broken your arm. Mama looked stressed when you came out of the X-ray. Mami filled her in on what the doctor had said about your arm. Mama fussed over you, apologising for it happening and trying to reassure you that she loved you so much. You however, chose to ignore her and took to fiddling with the makeshift cast you’d been given.

A pained expression overtook Alexia, her eyes were tearful (the hormones making her more emotional). She looked at Jenni with a pleading expression, to which Jenni sighed and spoke to you.

“Bebita, I promise you me and Mama don’t love the baby more than you, we love you both so much! Mama only couldn’t go in the X-ray room because the special machine in there could hurt her and the baby. We don’t want Mama or baby to be hurt do we?” Jenni rambled, crouching down to your level.

You thought about it for a second. You didn’t like the idea of the new baby taking your Mama and Mami away but you didn’t want it to be hurt and you certainly didn’t want your Mama to be hurt.

“I understand Mami” you said looking at your feet. “Sorry for shouting Mama and sorry for making baby hurt” you frowned.

“It’s alright bebé but you didn’t make baby hurt what do you mean?”

“Mami says ‘stress is bad for baby’ and you stress because of me.” you sulked

“I was stressed yes but I am always going to stress y/n and baby is just fine, come here baby’s kicking” she beckoned you over, placing your small, cast-free hand on her swollen stomach.

You felt a small poke from under her skin, your mouth was agape. Jenni and Alexia shared a smile at your reaction to the kicking.

“It’s a baby brother!” You declared

“What do you mean?” Asked Jenni

“I think it’s a baby brother!” You repeated

“Well we’ll see pretty soon pequeña” laughed Jenni.

——

And sure enough, when baby was born, he was indeed a baby brother.

~~~~

Thank you for reading! My other works are found here ✨

[bowieandqueen11]

Strawberry and Black Tea / Sanji Imagine

Request: for the fluffy sanji request-- maybe sanji and the reader end up sleeping in each other's rooms one night because its hard for them to sleep apart. reader gives sanji a good night kiss and he just falls into a lovesick puddle on the floor.

Something short and sweet because this idea is so so lovely, thank you anon!! :)

Warning: mentions of child abuse!

(I do not own One Piece or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes @suuho.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

It was the Iron Mask that had left Sanji with such a distaste for the dark.

Even now, lying tossing and turning in his bunk on the Going Merry, the dark starlight that creeped through the lone porthole seemed to do nothing but shroud his eyes in a long-suppressed misery. It reminded him far too much of home. Of his father. Of nights spent trembling in dank corners: nothing but the touch of flimsy cobwebs against his outreached hands, and the ratchet of his own voice cawing off the empty stone chamber to ease the frightened child.

Until his paranoid eyes couldn’t tell of the receding monstrous shadow shrivelling up the tower was the receding form of his father, or the unyielding loosening of shrill’s death fingers rasping uneasily across the stone wall by his cage, finally come to fulfil her promise to take him away.

She grew closer and closer, until her liripipe seemed to crow through the bars as she leant down through the shadows to kiss his forehead.

He started scrambling back desperately along the dirty dust, still too young and inexperienced with the true hardships of his life to try and face them head on. Instead he buried his head into his crossed arms, tried his hardest to calm his panting breath, closed his eyes and squeezed. It was the only way, he thought in that tumultuous moment, it was the only at he would be able to hold onto his sanity. To pretend it was you. To pretend it was you. To believe it was you.

A rat scurried out of a hole between cracked shackles, sniffing the air as it noticed Sanji cowering in the corner: the same boy who had showed the rodent such kindness only e weeks before, feeding it leftover scraps of his mother’s favourite crumble, trying his best to clear the dish before his father realised it was missing. The poor thing ran over to Sanji’s shoe, it’s tiny claws pinching into the forgotten prince’s skin as it raised its little body up closer to him. But to that child - oh, that poor child - it was like bony fingernails biting into his bone and extruding coarse chills straight to the bone.

She had come. The wrong person had come. So he did what any young child would do. He started screaming.

He screamed your name. He screamed for his ma, until the screams died, choked by the wails sticking in his throat. Then he whimpered, clawing at the metal screwed against his cheeks until his fingernails were left stunted, jagged, bloodied.

He thought about how alone he was, but realised quickly that wasn’t what made him so sad. He thought about you: how you would react, how heartbroken you would be when his father announced to the world that the young Prince has perished in a terrible accident. He imagined your tear streaked face as you would watch the faux funeral procession parade in a cheerful solemnity down past the main market and into the sea, stealing away into the alleyway and seeing how alone you were.

Most of all, he felt guilty. Guilty that this was all his fault. That he had proved his brothers right. He was weak. He had destroyed his mother. He had ruined you. He was weak. And so he crumpled into a ball, falling onto his side and allowing the sweet embrace of the shadows to lap over him.

His cries had quickly fallen into pitiful whimpers. Then quiet sobs, jolting his body forward in convulsions that had left him gasping for breath every few minutes or so, only broken by the almost angelic sound of the iron wrought door being shoved unsteadily open, and the pained whisper from the top of the stairs. ’Sanji? Sanji! Where the- ow- are you?!’

'Y/-Y/n?' He clambered to his knees, and shoved his arms desperately through the bars, as if he could levitate you down towards him. 'I'm here! I'm here - please! Y/n!' His little fists began to bang on the bars as he scraped up to lean on his knees. 'Help me - get me out, please! She's going to kill me!'

It took you less than thirty seconds to scale down the remaining steps, nearly flying chin first down into the dirt. You didn't care though: not when Sanji's fingernails sliced desperately into your skin and burrowed into the meat of your arm, tugging your forehead against the cool metal of his own. You did your best to cup his face between the clunky mask, pressing your fingers down to his neck and pulling him even closer to you. 'It's alright - it's alright. I'm here. I'm going to get you out of here, Sanj. We're going to run, we're going to get away.'

He refused to let you go, even as you bit your lower lip in concentration and wiggled into your pocket to pull out a stash of bobby pins you had pilfered from Vinsmoke Reiju when you had slipped into the castle. Poor Sanji nearly flies backwards onto his behind when you finally manage to click the locked gate open, yet the realisation hardly seems to dawn on him; he's leapt on you in a second flat, knees knocking the wind out of your stomach as he tumbles his torso against your awaiting hug.

'You came', he heaved out between sobs, shoving his grimacing face into the throbbing pulse point on your neck, 'you came back for me... why would you come back for me.'

The absolute dejection in the final warble of his desperate plea made you bite down on your tongue so harshly, you had to shove it against the roof of your mouth for a moment to stop yourself from spluttering on blood. 'Because, Sanj... because you're my best friend. And I love you. And we made a promise, didn't we? We're going to go find the All Blue, but we're only going to do it together. Not one without the other, right?'

He head bobs quickly, desperately. Shaking fingers latch tighter into your back, and although he wants nothing more than to grab onto your fingers and fly to freedom up that winding staircase, he slides his legs to the side and comes to sit awkwardly on your lap like a frail bird. The soft tip of his nose tickles the shell of your ear as he whispers: 'like black tea and strawberry?'

You snort, but nod your head against the side of his curls, tightening your grip around the shaking expanse of his spine. 'Yes chef, like black tea and strawberry. Even though that sounds absolutely disgusting.' His laugh- god, his laugh was so warming, even if the sound cracks, hoarse and low as his face balls up. What was less welcome, though, were the few pearly tears that slipped past the cracks slats covering his eyes and began to trace down an old bruised hollow that lay sharp and gaunt on his neck.

'I'm sorry- I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm sorry-', he starts to panic again, one eye blinking open as he stares into the inky depths of the umbral shade gathering over your heads. 'This is my fault. It's my fault we have to leave.'

'No.' You grab onto his shirt, nearly making him wince, but both of you refuse to unlatch from the other. 'No. This is not your fault. This will never be your fault, and I don't want you to think that for a second.'

The authoritativeness behind your shaking words was almost enough to make him believe you.

He nods slowly, but you can tell he's doing it just to placate you. 'I love you too, by the way', he sniffles, finally leaning back enough so he could wipe what he deemed as an unsightly amount of snot away from his nose. More than you know. More than he could even put into words. More than his young, frightful heart could even yet understand. He's too bashful to look you in the eye, instead skimming his eyes quickly over the torn threads of his kneecap, but finally allowing himself a respite of calm in the knowledge that the love he had been so desperately begging for hadn't abandoned him.

Before the adrenaline could rush out of his body, he leant forward with his head still bowed, and kissed your cheek as best he could in the darkness.

You hadn't left him. You hadn't: you never would. The revelation seems to shift the world around him, coaxing him into believing the sweet twilight sleeting across his eyes was sunlight instead; even though he still felt like his life was spent as a coin flipping through the air, so unsure of where it will land - of where it belongs - of the choices it will wrought, it felt a little easier afterwards, knowing he would eventually land. That it was your hand that would catch him.

He still hated the dark. And he still loved you more than life itself. Which is why you weren't surprised to find yourself running around your room at nearly one in the morning, trying your best to discreetly gather your bed sheets and sneak off towards the boy's cabin.

Before you could even finish gathering your pillow into your arms, the melodic rapt of Sanji's knuckles had rung out through the door. It took you less than thirty seconds to slide across the planks and fling it open, but it took the poor chef a lot longer to catch his breath and try to look more put together; he was doing his best to look suave by the way he was leaning his elbow against the doorframe, but the wind swept hair gave away the fact that he had come running over the side of the ship to get to you. The soft pant of his breath, the ruddy cheeks, the slight spasm of his abdominal muscles through his half-unbuttoned dress shirt, the scratch of his teeth against his inner lip line: you knew his tell-tale sings, his idiosyncrasies far too well. The man was flustered beyond belief, even if he did his best to cock his head and beam down at you.

What really gave it away - what really, really gave it away, though, was the fact that he literally had to clasp his hands together in front of his chest and wring them to stop them launching forward and grabbing onto you with the cloying, overwhelming power of eight octopus tentacles.

You almost have to shove your hand against your mouth to stifle your laugh at the way he flicked his head back to move the hair away from his eye: to anyone else, it would have seemed like an innocent tick. But he knew, and more importantly you knew too, that it was just so his glistening eyes could wander across your face, as if the lines and marks of your face mapped out the most beautiful treasure in all the seas.

'Well, my strawberry, I hope I didn't wake you from your beauty sleep. Not that you need it! But I, I was hoping, if you were to grace me with such luck, that I may come in-'

Before he can even finish, you've grabbed the knot of his tie and have hauled him across the door line like a fisherman reeling in his hook. Sanji goes flying, landing safely in your open arms, and flopping his back down pleasantly into your hammock. Sanji's eyes widen as he comes sliding down the material towards you, headfirst, stopped only when his chest does the job for him. His arms thump clumsily around your back, using his fall as an excuse to pull you as physically close to him as he can. He huddles up against you, his hand spreading across your shoulder blade and guiding your ear down to rest comfortably just above his right pec. You flush, pretending you don't feel the firm ripple of his tense muscle: don't hear the pounding shudder of his tell-tale heart.

'I'll take that as a yes, ma chérie.'

Distracted by the way your arm falls around his stomach, idly reaching up to curl back the stray edges of his fringe behind the corner of his eye again, his legs inch closer... and closer... and closer... until his left one has plunked down above your own. You have to bury your head into his neck to stop yourself from laughing at how incarnadine his face spreads, warm pink waves radiating off his cheeks as you lift up your knees and slide your free leg in between the heavy weight of his thighs. Bless his heart, it must have taken some exertion to hold it the way he did, making sure not to place his full weight on you, but just enough that the contact was physically there.

'You know', Sanji starts, once he has calmed his heart from beating so rapidly he feared it may have flopped out through his throat, 'Zeff used to give me a kiss goodnight.'

You lift your head to stare at him incredulously. 'No he didn't. I was there for only... uh...', you lift the arm hanging over the soft skin of his bellybutton to ostentatiously count on your fingers, waving them in front of his face. 'Hm, look at that - fifteen years!?'

He leans his head down until his chin is tucked into his neck, and does his best to try and hide the way his lips are warbling into a grin; he tries to play it off as him finding your antics amusing, as he strokes his fingers tenderly over the warm cotton on your shoulder, but inside he's just so beyond giddy to know that you remembered. To know that you had been together so long. To know that after all this time, after all the two of you had been through, he would gladly dredge through the unspeakable caliginosity again, if it meant he could always arrive at this moment. If it meant, no matter what his life threw at him, he could spend every moment of it by your side.

Even if the shadows are juddering up the walls of the girl's cabin too: even if your stroking fingers can't mask the memories of death's sharp knuckles stretching out across the walls. Even if he were to land, right now, in the waves: if he were to capsize and drown, he would be happy. He would be happy, because it was your hand instead. Your hand.

Too timid still, too apprehensive to admit that which had been a heavy weight holding down the flight of his sweet heart, he hides his love behind canorous tease.

'Yeah, well, Zeff did it when he could be arsed. Which I’m pretty sure was never.'

You snort, and he delights at the sound that he had drawn out. His vice like grip on your side tightens, but you decide better than to tease him for the way he begins squirming himself against you. He finally settles properly on his side, the bridge of his nose so dangerously close to yours that you can feel the shallow warmth of his breath brush over your bottom lip.

'Well-', he starts, trying to distract himself from your proximity. He was failing horribly, of course, because his eyes kept falling down to stare blankly at the seam of your lips. 'This does sure beat sleeping on the dungeon floor, even if we do have to put up with Luffy's snoring.'

'Hm, the dungeon wasn't too bad. Cosy', you say teasingly, letting your finger dance down the shell of his ear, pointing the tip against the jut of his chin and lifting his gaze with a smirk.

'How'd you figure that, sweetheart?' The feel of your finger against his skin, no matter how miniscule the touch, was enough to make the fibres of his body burn with such a want that it almost scared him.

'Because... it was the first place you ever kissed me.'

Sanji starts, eyes widening as he feels his limbs turn to stone.

He can't hide in the shadows anymore. Now, he has to come into the light. Has to let himself be free.

'Yeah, well strawberry', he wets his bottom lip with a dart of his tongue, and folds himself further down the hammock so his knees are drawn warmly up against your own. The shaking of his torso is only overshadowed by the widening of his eyes, so full of deep wonder the dams might have burst and drowned you if he hadn't spent so years cautiously restraining himself. You draw a finger down the pulse point of his neck, and he feels that resolve weaken.

He feels like that frightened boy again, but he knows it has to be now. He knows he's been lucky to have had the luxury of borrowed time, but the bell has tolled: the bill has come due, and now he must admit the truth of his life - of his soul - of his heart, for he doesn't know when it will become too late.

He wanted to kiss you. God, he had wanted to kiss you so badly for fifteen years it hurt. Now, now he was going to create his own light: he was going to thrive, in spite of it all. He was going to allow that child to live. The cage was open. He was free. His choices were decided by nobody now but by his own ruling, his own compassion, and he had wasted far too many years training himself to be sceptical, precise, composed.

'... If you may be so kind as to permit it... I think this beautiful ship might end up being the second.' He leans his torso forward, and after a bashful burn flickers over his cheeks, he squeezes his eyes shut and plants a wet kiss against your cheek, just like he had done all those years before.

He suddenly becomes hyperaware of it all: of the closeness of your thigh against his own: slick, naked, vulnerable below your pyjama shorts. Your warm breath, inching closer and closer to his trembling mouth as he juts his head back to look warily at you, so afraid he's messed everything up.

But then you surprise him; you rush forward, overwhelming and crushing in the way your lips pliantly slide over his own, licking against the inside of his bottom lip as it drops open, breathlessly.

He had been waiting for this - over and over since the two of you were children. This thought - the idea that he would finally get here was the only thing that had kept him grounded. Kept him sane. And so he kissed you back: heartily, heavily, with a slipping mouth awaiting your tongue, and clawing fingers coming up to rapt into your cheeks as if you were something fleeting: as if he were still spinning in mid-air, waiting for the shadows to snuff the light out again.

When you finally find the strength, the resilience to pull away, neither of you seem to be able to muster the courage to just finally admit the truth you had both always known. Sanji, instead, looks youthfully shy as he tries to hide his wanting - god, so longing gaze behind his fringe once more, although his tongue can't help but prod against his bottom lip as if in disbelief.

'Like strawberry and black tea, right?', he finally asks against the side of your mouth, nudging his nose against your own and smiling fondly.

'Like strawberry and black tea.'

[rainylana]

“Yes, big!”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: uncle wayne catches eddie and reader in the act.

warnings: language, brief smut, wayne interrupts said smut, reader hits her head, this is very fast paced but it’s funny af so enjoy<3 happy new year!

a/n: my requests are open now! this was requested by @random183893

“Just what exactly are you doing?” Eddie gave you a pointed look from the couch, legs sprawled and hair let down freely.

“Princess Diana said this is what she had to do when she was a kid,” You held out your arms to balance yourself, two books atop of your head to keep your posture as you walked around the coffee table.

“Last time I checked you weren’t princess Diana.” He stared at you like you were an alien from outer space, just waiting for one of the books to fall. “What’s that even supposed to do?”

“I’m not entirely sure.” You admitted with a creased brow, keeping your chin pointed. “I think maybe it has something to do with posture? Don’t you think I look sophisticated, though?” You smiled goofily, barely sending him a glance so you wouldn’t mess up.

“Sophisticated isn’t what’s coming to mind, babe, but you’re definitely a sight.” He scoffed behind a ringed hand.

You pursed your lips, reaching up to grab the books as you stopped your pacing. “Why must you tease me for everything I do?”

“Because I’m such a good boyfriend that’s why.” He pouted with you, grabbing your hands and yanking you onto his lap.

You giggled and smacked his chest playfully, letting his hands shamefully grip your backside as you kissed him. “Bad boy.” You bit his lip, your hair falling over his face.

“Bad boy, huh?” He smirked up at you, squeezing the flesh of your skin. “If I’m so bad why are you so damn crazy about me?”

You relaxed your body against his thighs, your cunt displayed through your thin shorts as you softly rolled your hips. “Because I’m crazy, too.”

You both made out like animals in heat, rolling hips and arching your back into him until he laid you flush on your back against the couch cushions. You smiled seductively up at him, only in your t shirt, panties and shorts gone. You put your foot on his chest and playfully pushed him, and he smacked your ankle away as he undid his belt, tossing his shirt off to the floor.

You throbbed watching him roll a condom onto his length in hand, practically foaming at the mouth when he came down to kiss you.

“Oh, god.” You groveled your voice deeply when he pushed his cock into your cunt, grabbing onto his shoulder as he groaned with sensation.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him as close as he could be, lips attached hotly and wet, hips interlocked and bodies moving back and forth like a boat out at sea. The brush of his hips sent spiky sensations to your clit and you cried out, his nose above you flaring heavy breaths of lust.

“I’m gonna cum.” He panted, shaking through his words as you nodded quickly.

“Me too.” You tilted your head up. “Me too, me too, me too-”

“What the fuck!”

Both your eyes shot open and bulged, and your face had turned to the brightest shade of red when Wayne stood at the door, face shade matching your own. You screamed, rolling out from under Eddie as he hurriedly tried to tuck himself back into his jeans.

“Shit!” Eddie screeched, falling to the couch when you rolled away onto the floor, smacking the back of your head against the coffee table.

Wayne was traumatized, covering his eyes as he quickly ran out the door, dropping his hat to the floor.

“Fuck, babe, you good?” Eddie heaved, struggling to get up.

“Oh, my god.” You practically wailed, trying to reach your clothes that seemed a mile away. Your head was spinning now, but you hadn’t even realized you’d cracked it.

“Jesus, y/n, here get up,” He tried helping you, gulping as he looked toward the door. Fuck. “You hit your head, honey, are you okay?”

Your eyes almost welled up with tears in embarrassment, crawling over to your clothes as you stood on wobbly legs. “Oh, my, god, Eddie! Oh, my-”

“Calm down, calm down.” Eddie winced at the shrillness of your voice, watching to make sure you didn’t fall again. “It’s nothing the old man hasn’t seen before.”

Your eyes split into daggers. “What the hell does that mean?”

His jaw dropped. “I mean- he changed my diapers! He’s seen my ass once or twice. No big.”

“Yes, big!” You threw your hands up in the air, starting to wildly pace. “Big, big, big!”

Eddie bit his lip and went to the window, smirking at the absence of his uncle’s truck. “He left, babe, we’re good.”

He turned and was met with silence, and no sight of his girlfriend. “Y/n?” He huffed, stepping over his uncles hat as he followed you to the bedroom. He stopped in the door way, furrowing a brow at the sight of you rummaging through clothes. “Y/n, what are you doing?”

“Packing my bags!” You marched around the room gathering your things at a mad mans pace. “I’m moving to another country!”

He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “Now, why do you want to do that?”

“Because I’m humiliated!” You shrieked, blowing a curl away from your face as you shoved clothes in a suitcase. “Why aren’t you?” You stared at him perplexed. “Your uncle just caught us having sex!”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, it’s not like he didn’t know we were doing it, y/n!” He pushed himself off the wall. “Wayne gave me the talk way back during middle school. It’s not a big deal, kiddo. Sex isn’t a sin, you know?” Eddie had hoped he’d gotten to you, but your face contorted and you burst into tears, his face dropped in concern.

“Oh, hey, come on,” He quickly gathered you close. “It’s okay, y/n, I promise.”

“I’m so embarrassed!” You cried. “How will I ever face him again?”

It took him a lot to not laugh, but his lips were etched into a big smile. He was so damn in love with you. “Was probably our own damn fault for going at it on the couch. He’ll definitely not sit there ever again.” He smirked, making you cry into his chest.

“Shh, hey- I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” He chuckled, kissing your head. “I sure hope you don’t have a concussion, you big cry baby.”

“I wish it had killed me!”

“You are so damn dramatic.”

[hashbrowpn]

──★ ˙WHAT ARE YOU? ̟ !?

YOU WEREN'T AWARE that mermaids, sirens, all those, truly existed. After all, you spent nearly all your years at sea, so it was only right you could assume so ... but he certainly proved you wrong.

NOTES: dont mind me just walking by .. *accidentally drops my bag full of pirate!reader x merman!muichiro*

You stand with your heart beating fast, you can hear it in your ears. Waves crash over the deck, wracking the ship. Rain pelts down like stones, accompanied by lightning that lights the gray  and stormy night up like an explosion. 

You reach into your pocket for a bar of chocolate to compose yourself.

You see something in the corner of your eye.

Whipping your head around, you lean over at the railings, and you catch sight of it again.

It was no fish, you were sure. Because no fish had eyes so... 

...human.

 It gazes up at you with suspicion, and dives off.

"Hey!" inclining yourself further, you desperately search for this divine creature.

You nearly fall over the ledge, but someone catches your wrist.

"Careful," Shinobu warned, her voice both a whisper and a yell over the noise. You stopped to look at her, her crisp white shirt, adorned with intricate lace at the cuffs, frayed brown trousers and heavy black boots. She gives you a thin smile that didn't reach her eyes. You nod, swallowing, and mutter a "Thank you,"

You slip out of her grasp and your eyes rove over the raging sea, but your train of thought is broken with a shout.

"Guys! there's a leak!" Mitsuri cries as she scrambles to look for something to patch up the giant hole in the wooden floors. 

You swear under your breath as you try to desperately wrack your brains for something to help, glancing over at the three little girls and Aoi whimpering in the corner as Shinobu consoles them, heart wrenching.

Kanao comes to help as her hands fumble clumsily at the makeshift she had crafted to patch it up, but water still seeped through. As your chest tightens with anxiety, there came an ear-splitting crack. The three little girls screamed. Overhead, the lightning still roars, and below, the waves still crash. 

You turn to Mitsuri in panic. "Did you hear that?"

Mitsuri looked at you slowly, green eyes as big as saucers, but before she could even open her mouth to speak, the floorboards beneath you gives away, and you fall into the icy embrace of the sea.

The sea breeze is cold, and it leaves a taste of salt in your mouth. The sand tickles your feet as you kick your way around it. 

You look around. Ah, you're dreaming.

The ocean's surface shimmers like a canvas painted with the liquid gold of the sun. It's so tranquil, so peaceful. You let out a relieved sigh.

The sea washes a few shells at the shore. As you take one, it's beauty so enchanting, you pocket it and trudge through the sand and into the peaceful waters.

But it isn't as expected.

The water is cold, too cold for your liking. But as you try to get out, you find the seaweeds beneath you had found their way up your feet and shackled your ankles.

The sky turns gray again.

The seaweeds drag you back, and you cry out for help, screaming until your throat gives out, until the water in up to your neck—

"Hey."

"Aah!" you wake up cold but sweating, shaking, covered in sea weed, sand, and God knows what. "Eugh!" you wail after eyeing an odd looking thing stuck to your finger, and shaking it off violently, before your eyes settled on...

what in the world?

"What the-?" you shuffle backwards, realizing you were on shore. The sunkissed sand sticks to you as you back away. 

It gazed at you. Hypnotizing eyes, eyes the color of the sea on a beautiful afternoon. And oh, hair like a black canvas fading into the same color as his wonderous eyes. Your eyes drifed to his body... a tail instead of two human legs. He was leaning on his arm, his other half in the water.

You stammer, "What... What are you? are you what i think you are...?"

He squints his eyes in annoyance, and merely plops back into the sea. 

"Hey! Hey wait!" you scurry to reach for him— and grab his wrist. You struggle to hold on, but he struggles to escape.

"Let go of me," he hisses, pulling harder. "You can talk," you say, flabbergasted.

"Are you underestimating me, human?" he seethes, then lets his head dip underwater and dives. You yelp, refusing to let go of him, even if that meant getting dragged into the sea.

It wasn't exactly a refreshing experience. 

Being drenched in sweat and being in ice cold water. You were sure to catch a cold after this, well, if there even was an after this.

You're losing air, but as soon as you plan to let go, he brings you back to shore again, pushing you into the sand. "Go." he says, irritation obvious as he shakes your hand off. "If you bug me one more time, i'm drowning you."

You're simply awestruck, at loss of words. He's beautiful.

You lean forward to touch his face, but he turns away forcibly. "What do you think you're doing?" he grouses. "I should have never saved you. I knew humans were stupid."

You try to speak. You can't speak.

It didn't quite matter where you were right now. You were focused on him.

He shakes his head and turns to leave, but you shout, "Wait!"

You undid the button of your pocket, and was ever so relieved when you took the chocolate bar in your hand. "U-uh, do you eat-?"

He eyed it just like how he eyed you when you were on the ship. "What's that?"

Before you could even answer, he snatched it from you and began chewing at the wrapper. "No wait, you have to..." you gestured to him to peel it off.

He took a bite into the chocolate and looked simply taken aback. "What is this?"

"Uhm... chocolate."

In a few seconds, he had already eaten the whole thing. "Do you have more?" he leaned in and began to search your trousers, palming at the pockets. "No, wait," you swatted his hand away. He looked at you, offended.

"I'll give you another if..." you swallowed, head spinning. Clearly, you weren't thinking straight. "If you tell me what you are, and who you are."

He raised a brow. "What I am?... Who I am?..." 

"Yes."

"...I don't quite remember."

You just look at him with several questions. But another more important one pops up. You swear under your breath. "Oh no, the ship, the others!"

You stand up, and you immediately almost fall over from dizziness. "Where even am I?" 

"I've forgotten too." 

You shake your head at him, annoyed. "Whatever. Now I'm stuck in God knows where with some Ariel asking me for my only food."

Massaging your temples, you sit down at the shore where the water washes away at your leather boots, and you reach into the cuffs of your sleeves, stained with dirt and sand, for a small piece of chocolate. You peel off the wrapper and bite on it, staring off distantly.

"Hey!" The merman calls, looking ever so photogenic in the water. He swims over to you, but before he could, you eat the last small piece of chocolate. His brows furrow as he looks at you as if it were the end of the world when you popped the last piece in your mouth. "How greedy," he muses. "I have to take it from you forcefully, then."

He leans over and takes your chin, and presses his lips against yours. 

It breaks your train of thought, and you yelp and try to pull him away, tangling your fingers in his wet locks, but he pushes you closer to him. 

Finally, he pulls away from you, licking his lips discreetly. He savours the chocolate he stole from you, and his brows lift a little as if having a realization. "I remember my name now," he says, gaze drifting off. "Tokito Muichiro. You've asked me that, yes?" 

[zuffer-weird-girl]

Stickers

Overhaul was a man that made countless lifes a living hell. For being the type of man he is and a yakuza, it was always a piece of cake for him to make even the toughest man around Japan fall on the floor on their knees and literally cry and beg for their life's.

But... he never thought that he could ruin someone's life by... snatching a fork out of his their hand when he was about to poke the outlet or when he took Kaito's out of Pops arms once because the poor elder had to go to the bathroom. And surely he never thought he could make someone cry this hard by just... throwing away a band aid the kid was using for the whole day.

It wasn't even because Kaito got hurt, he just found it cool the drawings on the band air and proclaimed he was wearing it forever... well, until he decided to take off after Kaito had taken a bath.

"What was I suppose to do? Frame it?" Kai asked in sarcasm as you sighed while the kid wailed on the floor about his missing band-aid.

"Kaito baby-" you tried to approach your son but the kid cried harder and scurried over to a corner of the room to just curl up and sob. "Oh God..."

"We can just leave him until he is-" he winced when you elbowed his arm as he glared at you.

For being his wife, you could do things that not even Pops would ever have the courage or patience to with Chisaki Kai. Despite his attitude and personality, Kai deeply cared and loved you and his son on his own way... but Kaito was sure testing his patience those last months.

"There there..." You cooed while going near your son and patting his back until the boy's loud sobs turned into soft hiccups as he crawled on your lap before you stood up with him on your arms "its okay, you can always get a new one."

"But that one was cool..." the little boy whimpered as he sniffed, a trail of snot failing onto your shoulder as your husband grimaced at it and quickly grabbed something to wipe it... even if it had gotten to your shirt already.

"It's was just a band-aid." He muttered, hoping his son had at least a bit of reason in him.

Spoilers, he didn't. Because he is a 3 years old.

"IT WASN'T!" The boy suddenly screamed making you and Kai wince before the kid returned to his sobs as you could only glare at your husband.

Kai only groaned before leaving the room, leaving you with jaw open at his audacity.

After only a few minutes of you trying to calm Kaito down, and a bit annoyed at your husband's intensity towards his own son, you saw the man himself entering the room with a very annoyed expression but holding a notebook you had never saw it in your life.

You arched a eyebrow at him until he just waved at you and made Kaito look up at him, tilting his chubby chin up from where he was hiding in your shoulder.

"There, take this and stop crying over a band-aid." Kai simply took a whole page of the notebook out and mentioned for his son to take it... your eyes widened at it along with your son's.

It was a whole page of untouched and preserved stickers... stickers for a little boy practically.

Kaito's eyes seemed to shine as he awed at it as you slowly put him down. The kid's wobbly lips turned into a big smile and dashed to hug his father's legs as Kai flinched at it but soon pat his son's head before the little boy ran out of the room.

"Where did you even get this? And so quick too?" You muttered in astonishment but soon noticed the tip of his ears turning a faint color of pink.

"... it was.. an old notebook of mine. I liked to keep those and not use them, that one it's probably the only one I had with actual stickers for kids to use." He muttered in embarrassment as you almost cried at how fucking cute this new information of your husband was.

"You're so adorable." You whimpered as your husband growled at you before he winced at the sudden hug and kisses you were giving him now "And such a cute father as well."

"Stop this woman." He growled while looking at everywhere except for you as you kissed his jaw, then cheeks and finally the place where he longed for, his lips.

The kiss was some sorta of innocent, but it brought how much you two bond actually was strong and deep, giving him a warm feeling he could never describe it while in you brought happiness all over your mind... and a bit of warmth down.

"Could never imagine you were this type of kid to keep your stickers." You snickered after you broke the kiss, your hands carrying his scalp and arms wrapped around his neck as he scoffed, yet with his arms wrapped around your waist. "Although I got to ask something Kai..."

He only arched an eyebrow at you, a silent way to tell you to carry on.

"Was it a REALLY good idea to give him a full page of stickers?" You asked a bit in hesitation and soon you saw those usually monotonous golden eyes widening in terror at his own mistake.

"Shit shit SHIT-" He started to freak out as both of you darted out of the room to chase your kid that had a full page PF stickers ready to be glued basically... EVERWHERE.

.

.

.

You sighed in relief at finding Kaito was only sticking the stickers on Pops as Kai's eye twitched a bit.

The elder looked up at both of you, an arm full of childish stickers on and even one of a car was glued to his right cheek but thankfully far away from his beard.

"The boy wanted to play and I couldn't just say no to those (Y/e) eyes of his." The old man merely chuckled as Kaito mumbled to give him his left hand to stick another one.

"Mama papa it looks like tattoos!" The boy exclaimed while lifting the older man arm up.

You giggled while Kai could only deadpan. The elder suddenly widening his eyes and smiling much like the grinch would until he whispered something onto Kaito's ears.

The kid nodded and soon grabbed the page that was remaining some stickers and went towards Kai, ready to give him one.

"No. Don't you dare." Kai growled but the kid soon started to laugh and run after his father.

You looked at the elder and the man only chuckled.

"You can't give Kai a break, can't you?" You muttered with a shake of your head but still giggling no less.

"No my dear, accept this as a karma for what he did to me when he was younger." The elder cackled.

At the end of the day, Kai had to begrudily let his son glue at least one sticker on him or else he would be throwing a fit of sobs once again.

[animasolaoriginal]

I n f a t u a t e d ♦️TEN

CHAPTER ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE

Accidents happen, and it only takes one to make her question everything, throwing her into a deep well of doubts and misery - and he's not necessarily making it any easier for her. Or is he?

ruthless nightclub owner ❌ innocent young woman with a crush

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Age gap. Size difference. Dubcon elements. Dom/sub dynamic. Praise kink. Free use/power play. Vaginal sex. Squirting. Humiliation. Angst. (For more tags, check it on AO3!) // WORDS: 6k

A/N: A little content warning/spoiler: I put squirting in the tags above, but there might also be other bodily fluids present in this chapter. But it's up to you how you want to interpret the following "accident". Just a heads-up.

NINE 🟥 TEN 🟥 ELEVEN

She feels full. Not only stuffed, plugged up, filled, but really full. Stirring in bed, she finds herself held by strong arms, his big body folded around hers, her rear pressed into his groin. Trying to slip from his grip, the urge to relieve herself only grows.

It's her little strained whine of effort that seems to wake him, and she's almost off the bed when he grabs her around the waist and pulls her back. Another wail falls from her lips.

“No, please...”

“Where're you going?” he mumbles, pressing her to his chest, the strength in his arms fear-provoking.

“I gotta p–”

The rest of her plea is muffled as he puts his hand over her mouth. She struggles in his hold, even more so when his other hand slips between her legs and unfastens the harness, before his fingers grip the base of the dildo and pull it out.

The sense of relief is only short-lived. She is still fixated on trying to control her bladder when he pushes her leg up and his cock against her now unoccupied cunt. Struggling, whining, she fights him, hands clawing at him, but he completely ignores her and proceeds to press into her.

She wails into his hand when he rolls his hips against her, hard and fast, no mercy, as he forces himself deeper into her tight warmth, and it's even worse when he shifts positions and rolls onto his back, pulling her with him.

Her legs fall open over his strong thighs, a pliant body molding to his as she can't do anything but lie on top of him, back pressed into his chest, one large hand holding her jaw, muffling her cries of protest, the other large and heavy on her stomach, pushing hard, while he starts to really pound up into her.

She feels her control slipping, his rapid rhythm, the constant in and out, hectic up and down, walls clinging to his shaft, it all adds to the growing vertigo inside her head. In this angle, he seems to hit spots she's had no idea were this sensitive, and the more he hammers into her, the more she struggles to fight the sensations.

His grunts are loud in her ear, his body working beneath her, muscles flexing and shifting, his hands unrelenting as they hold her down. Hot tears fall from her lashes, her head is spinning, body convulsing. She's clenching hard around him, her stomach tight and tense, that feeling of fullness so unbearable it hurts.

And suddenly, it's all gone. She comes hard, head thrashing against him, back arching, hips bucking up, thighs trembling, and it's all a rush of relief as everything falls off her. Her scream is muffled by his hand, the other pressing hard into her stomach as she spasms, completely losing control.

Something wet and warm forces its way out of her, it's a strange feeling, an uncontrollable twitch, and the even stranger splatter of something on the wooden floor barely registers in her hazy head. He keeps rutting into her, holding her, groaning into her ear. She's limp on top of him, sinking into herself. That horrible pressure is gone.

She barely notices how he accelerates his pace, frantically pushing up into her before he stills with a growl and comes deep inside of her. His warmth only adds to her own.

It's when he pulls out and loosens his grip on her, that she slowly regains her composure, trying to make sense of what happened. He sits her up, shifts her off him before he leans towards the bedside table, rummaging through the drawer.

And it's when he throws her a package of wet wipes that she truly realizes what happened. While he rolls onto his side, facing away from her, content enough to fall back asleep, she sits on the wet sheets and stares at the mess she's made.

Even in the semi-darkness of the room, she can see the stains, feel the wetness all around her, the puddle on the floor shimmering in the glow of the distant street lamps. To say she's mortified would be an understatement.

Gripping the wet wipes, she starts crying soundlessly, adding to the tears on her burning face, her body shaking. She somehow manages to get off the bed, almost slips in the warm liquid on the floor, makes it to the bathroom. As soon as she realizes she can skip the toilet, she heads straight to the shower, her sobs gaining in volume.

Her legs give way as soon as she turns on the water, and she sinks to her knees, and not even the already existing ache can distract her from the horror she feels. Hugging herself, she wails, bathing in self-pity and shame, so occupied with herself, she doesn't notice the footsteps approaching.

Suddenly he's there, picking her up, pulling her into a standing position as he presses her against his hard body, holding her. Despite the embarrassment burning through her, she wraps her arms around his midriff and embraces him tightly, burying her face in his warm chest. He rubs her back and sighs deeply.

“S'normal,” she hears him mutter as he leans his chin on top of her head. “Don't be ashamed...”

She shivers, swallowing hard, unable to fully stop the sobs slipping from between her quivering lips. He just holds her tighter, lets them both soak in the water raining down on them. While she's still stuck in her own head, he grabs the shower head and proceeds to clean first her, then himself. She's barely able to move, frozen in her own humiliation, that she lets him take over fully.

He dries her off, then walks her to the toilet and makes her sit down. “Take your time,” he says, leaning down to press his lips to her forehead. She chews on the inside of her cheek as she watches him leave the bathroom.

Burying her hot face in her trembling hands, she succumbs to the urges of her body, trying not to think too hard about anything anymore.

She returns to the bedroom on shaking legs, wringing her hands. Her gaze falls to the floor, a cold shiver runs down her spine. He's cleaned up the mess, stripped the bed, the large pile of sheets lying on the edge of it next to where he's sitting, scrolling through his phone. He looks up when she walks a little closer, his face a stern mask, and she stiffens, bites her lip, feels her heart sinking.

But then he stands up, puts his phone down, and without another word or look or anything, scoops her up into his arms and carries her out of the bedroom. She's too stunned to react or protest even, she just watches him, focusing on him instead of the burning shame in her guts. He takes her to the guest bedroom, puts her down and proceeds to climb into the bed, then holds his hand out to her, watching her intently.

She follows, grabs his hand and lies down beside him. He turns her, wraps his arms around her body and pulls her against him, her rear pressed to his groin. She slowly relaxes in his embrace, closes her eyes, forces the thought carousel down. Eventually she is too exhausted to think and falls asleep again.

When she wakes up the next morning, she is alone. No warm body, no strong arms, no reassuring embrace. It's almost cold.

And it gets only worse as she realizes where she is. Guest bedroom. And the humiliation of last night comes back in full force. She can't even hide the sobs when they spill from her quivering lips. Pulling the covers over her head, she buries herself in the bed, hoping to sink into oblivion, hoping to forget what happened.

There are noises on the other side of the door, footsteps, muffled voices, shuffling of furniture. For a moment, she is distracted. What's going on?

Her eyes wander through the room. It's smaller than his bedroom, there's only one big window and the view is different, the layout is another as well, the two doors are on her left, both of them open, showing the rooms beyond. Bathroom, closet. The design is similar. Minimalist, dark, masculine.

Suddenly there's a click and then the door opens. Her heart beats faster. It's him, tall, dark, masculine. She only meets his eyes for a second before she looks away again and burrows back into her cocoon of sheets and covers, letting out an embarrassed little whine while her stomach clenches. The door clicks shut, his footsteps round the bed before it dips down slightly and his big, warm hand is on her back, fingers digging into the fabric.

“Get up,” he says in that neutral, demanding tone, and she shivers. Something inside her doesn't want to make him wait, something else wants to completely ignore him. She expects him to rip the covers away, expose her, force her to show herself and face the new day of whatever he has planned for her next, but he doesn't do anything. Just sits there, hand heavy on her hip.

She hears him exhaling loudly. A moment later, the bed dips again when he gets up and walks away, the clack of his shoes louder when he enters the bathroom. Biting her lip, she lowers the blanket enough to peek through a gap, and she gasps when she meets his gaze. He holds out a bathrobe in one hand, while beckoning her closer with the other. His face is a stoic mask, but his eyes seem warmer than before.

She inhales deeply, fights the warring emotions inside of her, before she slowly crawls out of her cocoon and climbs off the bed, trying to ignore that she's naked, that she's so much smaller than him when she approaches him with her head lowered. He wraps the robe around her shoulders, and she looks up hesitantly, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

His hands are on her face, holding it up, thumbs brushing over her warm skin. “Good girl,” he says quietly, the corner of his lips twitching slightly. She blushes immediately, those strange shudders crashing through her instantly, her heart almost beating out of her chest. The throbbing is back. He looks at her for a moment, then lowers his hands and straightens up, tilting his head towards the bathroom. “Go on,” he tells her, and she nods, hugging the robe around her tiny frame and follows the hint.

The bathroom is smaller as well, though it has the same amenities, shower, bathtub, vanity, toilet, he even put some toiletries on the counter, and clothes that look all too familiar. It's her skirt and the top she'd been wearing on the night that he took her away. She's relieved to see her pale pink panties as well. Though there is something in the back of her mind that wonders why he makes her wear these things, and not the fancy underwear or dresses he bought her.

Inhaling deeply, she focuses on her morning routine, trying to forget about last night or the worries that come with thinking about her possibly lowest moment yet. As she brushes her teeth, she stares at her reflection, into her own eyes that seem so different, almost blank, defeated, reddened. She can't look at herself for long as the voices grow louder, the doubts taking over.

You're disgusting, they whisper, and she sees herself frowning in the mirror. Look at yourself! Messy hair, vacant expression, lips swollen and raw. Why would a man like him want someone like you? You're nothing! Just a body for him to use and not even that you can do properly! Making such a mess... absolutely disgusting! He'll probably bring you right back to where he picked you up, gets rid of you again, to find someone better.

That revelation makes her stare at herself, her shoulders shaking as she tries to suppress tears. Would he do that? Why wouldn't he? He's had his fun with her, the whole weekend long, now he's probably done with her after what happened. Why would he keep her anyway? She's just a stupid little girl, now more than ever, no matter what her ID says.

Silent tears stream down her cheeks as she stares blankly ahead, the act of tooth brushing just an automatic thing she does while she spirals deeper and deeper into her own doubts and worries. Once she's done, she washes her face, but new tears come almost instantly, so she doesn't bother anymore. She dresses with her head spinning, and when she notices he didn't even leave her another butt plug to wear like he's done the first morning she woke up here, the concern only grows.

He doesn't care anymore. He wants her gone.

Sniffling pathetically, she leans on the counter and tries to ease her breathing. He shouldn't see her like this, she should leave him with at least a little bit of dignity. Although she has no idea where to find anything like that in the mess that is her brain. She takes a deep, shuddering breath, wipes at her eyes, and swallows the dark thoughts.

When she exits the bathroom, he's sitting at the small table in the corner, long legs stretched out and crossed, his phone in his hand. He looks up when she approaches him timidly, wringing her hands, biting her lip. “Sit,” he tells her, and she does, glad about the command.

Her eyes wander over the table: there's a bowl of cereal, a pitcher of milk, a basket of fresh croissants that smell heavenly, a little tray with various jams in small glass jars, two plates and cutlery, a large glass of orange juice on her side of the table and a cup of coffee in front of him. Her mouth is watering at the sight, but her stomach tenses up even more. She doesn't deserve this.

“Help yourself,” he says before he turns his attention back to his phone while taking a sip of his coffee. She just sits in the chair opposite him, trying to control her breathing and her pounding heart, new tears burning under her lashes. “What's the matter?” His voice cuts through her nagging thoughts, and it takes her a moment to look at him. There's a deep crease between his eyebrows, and she's not sure if it's anger or concern.

“N-nothing,” she croaks, hastily grabbing a croissant and starting to nibble on it. It tastes so good, but she can't enjoy it thoroughly. The doubts are still there. The worries, the humiliation, the fear of this being the last time they sit together like this. It all burns inside her as she stares at the plate in front of her, unsteady breaths making her shoulders shake.

She hears him sighing loudly, and then he suddenly stands up, taking a long stride towards her, towers over her until she looks up in disturbed confusion. His eyes are darker, impatience plastered all over his face. She ducks under his imposing posture, not even sure what she's expecting. She doesn't expect him to take the croissant from her shaking hand. She doesn't expect him bending down to scoop her up in his arms. She doesn't expect her heart to beat so fast in her chest, and the warmth pooling inside her stomach, and the throbbing between her legs.

He carries her back to his chair and sits down with her perched on his lap, holding her tightly pressed to his chest, before he leans over the table and grabs the croissant, gently holding it up to her lips as he watches her closely. For a moment she feels even worse than before. Treated like a goddamn child who can't even eat on her own. But then she opens her mouth and takes a bite, holding his gaze, sinking into his eyes, grasping at the comfort the gesture gives her.

A small smile crosses his features, and she blushes deeply, taking another bite, chewing, letting him feed her until the pastry is gone. He wipes his thumb over her mouth to get rid of the crumbs and flakes, then raises the same thumb to his lips and licks it clean. The heat inside her intensifies at the sight. His eyes bore into hers as his fingers trace down her neck, and she winces slightly when he presses against the marks he's left there.

Another thought crashes through her. Those will fade, like the pain, and then he will be gone from her life. Just like that.

Swallowing hard, she looks away, forcing her gaze through the window, out onto the city waking up around them. It's a gloomy day, gray and foggy, and she can't see far. The other buildings are dark shapes, barely there. Of course the weather mirrors her mood perfectly. A sigh escapes her.

Suddenly his hand closes around her throat, and she gasps, looking back at him. “You have to stop worrying so much,” he says darkly, and it sounds more like a command than a general life advice. She bites her lip, trying to read his stoic expression. “Whatever is going on in that pretty head of yours, stop it,” he continues, squeezing her neck lightly. She blinks at him. “Can you do that?”

She feels her eyes watering under his scrutinizing gaze. His words confuse her. She doesn't know what to make of them. Parting her lips, she whispers: “I don't know...”

His gaze darkens, the grip of his hand tightens, she lets out an overwhelmed sob. Then his lips are on hers, his mouth capturing any other sound that climbs up her throat. He kisses her hard, demanding, thumb and forefinger guiding her jaw, tongue gliding against hers. And she melts into the touch, eyes fluttering shut, a familiar feeling of blissful nothingness inside her head.

She's panting when he leans back, he looks about the same as before, unfazed, eyes dark, jaw clenched, but the little flick of his tongue as he licks his lips makes her feel even warmer. He cups her face, rubs his thumb over her bottom lip, watches her closely. After a moment of just looking at each other, he leans back a little, tracing his index finger along her temple.

“Head empty now?” he says, tapping his fingertip against her skin.

She nods, he raises an eyebrow, her stomach tenses. “Yes, sir,” she replies quietly, and feels instantly validated when he gives her a small smile, his big hand patting the side of her head.

But he doesn't call her a good girl. And he breaks the moment when he suddenly turns his head away, looking towards the door. A second later, he lifts her off his lap, putting her down on her own chair again.

“I'll be right back,” he tells her, leaning over the table to grab his phone, before he puts another croissant on her plate. “Eat.”

She nods, her breath quickening as she watches him leave the room, the lock clicking behind him. Without him, the head-empty-feeling is gone almost immediately. To cover up her emerging sobs, she grabs the croissant and shoves it into her mouth, angrily biting it to keep those nagging thoughts down.

When he returns, she is back to square one, an intimidated girl, stuck in her own head, eyes reddened, chest tight. And this time, he doesn't seem to care. He puts her sneakers in front of her and waits for her to put them on, towering over her, eyes dark, him in his expensive suit, her in her cheap little club outfit. Her hands are shaking as she ties the shoelaces into a loop.

What does she need shoes for? she wonders, though deep down she knows the answer. The voices have been right. He's taking her back.

And indeed he does. Grabbing her hand, he pulls her out of the bedroom, and she forces herself to only focus on him as he walks her to the front door, trying to ignore the noises from the other rooms, the people working around them, the smell of cleaning supplies. She feels something hot burning in her stomach, not the good kind. Her humiliation flares up again, but she can't dwell on it as he pulls her out of the apartment onto a large hallway. Towards one of two elevators.

She realizes she (still) can't remember how she got here in the first place, so she's trying to memorize any details on their way down. There are only two buttons in the elevator. Up and down. Large mirrors all around, soft lighting that doesn't distract from the fact how much taller he is than her, how tiny she feels standing beside him, his big hand still holding hers. His fancy dark suit in stark contrast to her silly skirt and top. So childish. Just a kid standing next to a fucking grown-up.

Did he finally realize that? That she's too young to satisfy his needs properly? Too inexperienced? Too much hassle after all? Is that why he's taking her back?

She stares at the ground, at her old sneakers, fraying at the edges, dirty and worn, tiny next to his large shiny shoes, elegant, expensive. She bites her lip, her shoulders sagging. The elevator ride seems endless when you're caught in your own head. Those nagging voices just won't stop.

A sudden ding makes her flinch, and she looks up at him with a frown when he squeezes her hand. It's only a second, but the way he looks at her makes her knees shake. For a moment she focuses back on him, ignoring the doubts within her racing mind. He pulls her out of the elevator into a large parking garage. Two rows of very expensive looking cars line the sides, most are sleek and black, some bigger, and some look like they came straight from the racing track. She's completely stunned by the sight.

He takes her to the far back towards a black car (she sucks at naming them so she doesn't even try), lets go of her hand as he opens the passenger door and waves her into it. She sinks into the soft leather seat, looking around in awe, before she freezes when he leans over her and fastens her seat belt for her. Blushing deeply, she stares at him, holding her breath when he straightens up again and closes the door with a loud thud.

Her heart races. The way he treats her stands in a stark contrast to what she fears he's going to do. Leave her, bring her back. But then why does he care so much? Opening the door for her, buckling her in? Watching her whenever he has the chance with those dark eyes and the familiar intensity in them (hunger even?). She's confused, to put it mildly.

He slips behind the wheel, puts his own seat belt on and starts the car. The engine roars in the underground space, and she watches in growing admiration how he maneuvers the vehicle out of the parking spot towards a large gate that slides up when he approaches it. It's up a winding ramp, and then they're in the middle of the big city traffic.

She has no idea where they are. The buildings are tall, too tall to look at fully from her lowered position, the streets look clean, fancy shops with fancy signs line one side, men and women in business clothes walk up and down the sidewalk, other fancy cars fill the stuffed roads. She decides to focus on him, staring at his long fingers curling around the steering wheel, while his other hand rests on the gear shift between their seats.

She feels like she's never had time to actually fully admire him, between all the things he did to her and made her do (it's all a blur at this point, distant memories in light of what's to come, presumably), so she lets her eyes wander over his hands, the veins and tendons twitching under his tight skin, how he sits behind the wheel, all big and confident, eyes on the road ahead, expression hard and stoic, jaw clenched.

Handsome. Too handsome to be real.

They drive for quite a while, and when he finally pulls into a parking spot, she's stuck in her head again, thinking back to having his hands all over her, both dreading and enjoying his demanding touches, while simultaneously lamenting the fact that he won't do that to her ever again (and she isn't sure if it's regret or fear that makes her think that, but it surely isn't relief, strangely enough). She's sunken into the seat, hands clasped on her lap, tight and cramped, heart beating faster as she stares blankly ahead.

Her door opens, and she flinches when he leans over her to unbuckle her seat belt, the scent she's grown accustomed to filling her nostrils when he brushes past her. Another thing she's going to miss. Before she can wonder why she should even miss being treated like a toy, being used like a mindless body, he grabs her hand and pulls her out of the car, demanding but gentle, keeps holding her hand when he closes the door.

Looking up at him and then around, she realizes they're here. Her apartment building looks downright shabby compared to where they started their trip. His car looks completely out of place between all the old, rusty vehicles lining the street. As does he, the tall man in his expensive suit holding onto the unassuming girl's hand. Her heart beats faster. He actually took her back to her place. To bring her back, let her go. She bites her lip, and the worries almost overpower that one nagging thought in the back of her mind.

How does he know where she lives?

She looks back at him, frowning slightly, but he ignores her and pulls her towards the steps leading up to the front door. He walks with confidence, seems to know exactly where to go, through the narrow hallway, past the mailboxes on the wall, up the stairs, floor after floor until she's suddenly standing right in front of her apartment door.

She doesn't even question it when he pulls a key out of his pocket and unlocks it, pushes it open with a squeak, and guides her inside. Her steps are uncertain, the familiarity of this shitty little place she called home almost drowning her in emotions. As she stands in the small hallway that seems to shrink even more with him standing behind her, filling out the space in a way that's almost frightening, she doesn't know what to do, what to think.

Why are they here? Why is he here? He could have said goodbye down in the hall, send her on her merry way. But he came with her. And she's alone with him in the cramped space that is her apartment. She's been alone with him the entire weekend, but this feels strange. He doesn't fit. The door frames seem too narrow and too low, the interior too childish, too colorful, too cluttered.

She wants to ask him why he's here, turns around, but he gently shoves her into the living room which is basically an open kitchen with a couch and a small table. Everything is small here, except him. She watches him walk to the kitchen counter before he leans against it, crossing his arms over his chest, tall and intimidating, his eyes fixed on hers.

“Pack up,” he then says, and she stares at him in confusion.

“What?” she murmurs, her mind spinning into ten million directions at once, not understanding anything anymore.

“I want you to pack up some things you think you may need,” he says, slowly, as if he can see how hard thinking is for her at the moment.

“Need? For what?” she stammers, furrowing her eyebrows.

He works his jaw, just looking at her. “I told you I'm taking you with me,” he then replies, his eyes boring into hers. “And I meant it. You're staying with me.”

Her mouth falls open, his words barely making any sense, but they cause the heat inside her stomach to flare up. Before she can form any coherent sentence, ask any of the many questions tumbling around inside her head, he pushes off the counter and walks towards her. With his long legs he's there in no time, grabbing her face, tilting it up to make her look at him. She stares at him blankly.

“You are mine,” he whispers, leaning down to press his forehead to hers, his gaze burning itself into her mind, erasing any words she may have wanted to utter. “Mine to use, mine to control, mine to have...”

She shivers, caught in a strange limbo between feeling aroused and completely terrified. Her body is tense but her legs are trembling. His breath fans over her quivering lips.

“And I'm giving you the option to grab whatever you want to take with you,” he continues quietly, darkly, leaving no room for complaints or questions. “I've already terminated your lease. Your stuff will be put in storage once we're done here.”

Something cold fights its way through the heat inside her. He did what? “You... you did what?” she whispers, staring at him.

“I also resigned you from your job at the fast food place,” he adds, and somehow that doesn't even bother her. She hated flipping burgers and being covered in grease all the time anyway. But that he just decided this for her? Without asking first?

“You –” she starts, her voice tiny, barely able to squeeze through her tight throat.

“I take what I want, baby, and what I want is you. You don't need a shitty place like this or work your pretty butt off so you can afford this shitty place. You won't have to worry about anything anymore, do you understand?”

She stares at him, still completely overwhelmed by what he just told her. It's just too much. He basically cut her out of her old life, burned all the bridges, erased her sorry excuse for a life in a span of seconds. All of it to have her for himself? So she can exist only for him? The thought is as horrifying as it is tempting. Suddenly she craves that head-empty-feeling, not having to worry about money, about rent, about having enough to feed herself.

He'd do that for her. All of it. And in exchange, she only has to let him do whatever he wants to her. Use her. Wherever, whenever he feels like it. And somehow she finds comfort in that, as strange and disturbing as it sounds.

She's been worrying about no longer being attractive to him after what happened last night, worried about not being enough, too small and too inexperienced and too freaking innocent to meet his expectations, but then he just goes and takes away the last things that made her somewhat independent, binding her to himself. Fully turning her into his little plaything.

A tear slips from her lashes, and he leans back and wipes at her cheek, watching her closely. “I want you to submit to me,” he whispers, almost softly, almost as if he's actually asking. “Put away your worries, focus on me. Be my good little girl. Do what I tell you. I promise you, you will feel better. It'll all be easier.”

She blinks another tear away, staring up at him, feeling so small and insignificant, while also growing at least an inch as she listens to him. It's a contradicting feeling, complicated, unreal. The option to give herself to him, let him steer her through life, is something she can't completely deny liking. It will indeed be easier to have someone take care of everything, take care of her. Her life hasn't been easy thus far, so after all that hassle of trying to be her own human being, his proposition sounds almost too good to be true.

She'd do anything for that head-empty-feeling right about now. Thinking about this too hard, makes her head hurt and her heart ache and her stomach tense. All those thoughts inside her head drive her crazy, the doubts, the complaints, the questions. Does he really mean it? What if he grows tired of her? Then she'll have nothing. Will he just throw her away at one point? He barely knows her, she barely knows him. It's been an intense weekend, but has it been enough?

Suddenly she's back at the club, meeting his eyes through the crowd. The thumping bass under her feet as she approaches him, the muffled music in her ears when he pushes her against the wall in the back, her own heartbeat drumming inside her skull when he kisses her, holds her, tells her to take her with him... She wanted a hook-up, be one of the girls that crowd around him every night. She woke up to a weekend full of unexpected challenges and experiences, of humiliation, of pain and pleasure, of praise and warmth, of needs and wants she never knew she had, of itches she never knew needed to be scratched.

It's insane to want this, to be just a body for him, a set of holes for him to fill however he likes. To be degraded like that. But is it really insane to want to be in his strong arms, to feel his hands on her, his mouth, his lips, his tongue, his cock inside her? He told her she isn't allowed to have wants anymore, that she's his to use, but this is what she wants. Him. His attention. His warmth and strength and the comfort of being with him, those sweet moments afterwards.

Inhaling deeply, she bites her lip, swallows hard, her eyes wandering over his hard face. Handsome, stoic, surprisingly patient as he waits for her reply. He doesn't have to give her time to think about it, he said he takes what he wants, he's never asking her to do anything, he orders her to do it. There's no room for complaints. And there's a certain freedom in it, in just following his commands, doing what he tells her to do. It is easier.

And yet he gave her the chance to consider it (well, the illusion of a chance if she ignores the state of her apartment and her job for now), he wants her to submit, asked her to submit. And it's that little space for hesitation that makes her doubt everything. She feels as if she can't make that decision. Can't make any decisions anymore.

“T-tell me,” she then whispers, barely audible.

He frowns. “Tell you what?”

“Tell me to submit. Please. Order me to submit,” she clarifies, biting her lip.

His eyebrows shoot up before they furrow back down, his gaze darkening. His hands leave her face to rest heavy on her shoulders as he seems to straighten up in front of her, looking down at her. “Kneel,” he says, his low voice causing goosebumps to ripple over her skin.

She falls to her knees instantly, hands folded on her lap, chin tilted up to look at him. Focusing on him and only him.

“You will submit to me,” he says. It's not a question. “You will do whatever I say. Do you understand?” His hand is on her chin, thumb rubbing over her bottom lip.

“Yes, sir,” she replies, two words that just spill from her, so easily, a reflex almost, just like how her lips part when he presses his thumb between them. She watches him, her heart racing, her stomach tensing up, that throbbing between her legs back in full force. And he watches her, pushes his thumb deeper into her mouth, and she sucks on it, instinctively, her tongue flicking around it in an almost meditative fashion.

“Good girl,” he says, and she knows, deep down, she will do absolutely anything to keep hearing those words. To stay on his good side. Nothing else matters. Just him. And the itch that needs to be scratched. The very selfish itch to be called a good girl.

NINE 🟥 TEN 🟥 ELEVEN

End notes: This marks the end of Season 1 of Infatuated! Now she is fully his, with no place of her own, no life to return to, all his. What will happen next? Find out very soon!

It's been quite the journey for these two, and for me, and for you, maybe. It was certainly fun to let loose completely and write out all my dirtiest, darkest ideas, and trust me, there are more. My dirty mind is a bottomless pit... (TL;DR: Season 2 is in production, baby!)

So, I want to thank you for joining me on this ride, and I hope you'll continue to follow my work and this story. Until then: Thank you once more, I really appreciate all the support, especially with a story this dark, full of all these controversial themes. It's not something I expected.

Thank you for reading!

TAG LIST: @qmsvpx @cyan1decandy @bimbos-are-angels @voiceactivated @reader-1290

AO3 / / / MASTERLIST

CHAPTER / / / ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE◾ SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾TEN ELEVEN TWELVE

[babydollmarauders]

FIGHT — JACK HUGHES

part of the el!hughes au

summary: y/n (lovie) and jack get into their biggest fight yet

warnings: fighting, mention of bad parents (lovie’s)

my head slumps on the back of the couch as Eleanor’s cries pierce my eardrums.

“El, baby, c’mon.” i groan out.

my recently turned one year old is sprawled out on the apartment floor, throwing a fit over something of which i have no idea.

i tried to pick her up, but she just kept pushing my hands away, screaming ‘mama! no! mama, no! no, mama!’

it’s been two weeks of this, and i have a sneaking suspicion that her constant sour mood has been all because of the particular absence of her favorite person. Jack.

it’s been two weeks of early wake-ups and late nights. two weeks of El having meltdowns if i mess up even one thing, like giving her cheetos in a bowl instead of her snack cup, or suggesting Moana instead of watching Lilo & Stitch for the billionth time, or reading her the wrong book at bed time. it’s been two weeks of sleep regression, no naps, and her throwing her food every chance she gets. two weeks of her screaming if i try and leave the room, but screaming if i try and pick her up as well. two weeks of bags under my eyes, messy buns because my hair is horribly greasy, and surviving purely on coffee.

i’m tired. my feet hurt because every time i sit, El screams at me. my head hurts from her screaming. and now my stomach cramps because i, of course, both started my period, and have not had a moment to eat all day. i’ve broken down in tears nearly every night once i finally get El to sleep, because i don’t know how much more of this i can take.

tears well up in my eyes at this very moment, and it takes everything in me to hold back my own screams. not necessarily directed at my daughter, but just in frustration. i can’t think clearly. it’s nearing midnight and i’ve tried everything to get her to sleep, but she just keeps fighting it.

i know she’s tired, just like i am. she’s been up since five in the morning, which means so have i.

“i give up.” i cry out, burying my face in my hands, weeping into them in frustration and exhaustion. “i get it, El. you want your father. i know. please, i know.”

El’s cries pause and i peek through my fingers to see her watching me with a tilted head, before she bursts back into tears.

i steel my spine, wiping my own tears, and strengthening myself. i rise from the couch, scooping my daughter up, despite her smacks to my chest and pulls on my now-falling-out bun, and shuffle towards her bedroom.

going for the last ditch effort, i grab the hidden pacifier in her top dresser drawer, and pop it into her mouth before turning on the white noise machine in the corner and placing her in her crib.

i gaze down at her, watching as she yawns, tears still slipping from her eyes. her eyelids flutter closed before she pries them back open and stares back at me.

“Eleanor Elizabeth Hughes, you have to sleep.” i scold in a whisper.

retreating from the room, closing the door and listening for her wails; i nearly cry in relief when nothing comes. nothing but silence and the sound of the white noise.

my feet pad across the wooden floors as i walk to the kitchen, keeping an ear out for El’s possible whines. too drained to make myself anything sustainable, i settle for a yogurt cup and a cheese stick. bringing my snacks with me into Jack and i’s bedroom, i settle under the blankets.

i have no energy to put into paying attention to a show or movie, and not nearly enough to read a book; so i sit in silence, staring at the wall as i eat.

placing the now empty yogurt cup on my nightstand, i pick at the cheese stick, lost in thought.

i’m struggling.

i feel like a single parent half the time.

i’m not sure how actual single parents do it. the ones who have to work and take care of their children. because parenting in and of itself is a full time job.

i know it’s not fair of me to think so little of myself, but i can’t help feeling like a horrible mother. she never wants me anymore; only ever yearning for Jack.

and i get it. i yearn for him too when he’s gone.

but can’t she be happy with me?

i miss the sound of the front door shutting; too deep in my own head. too far gone in my own thoughts.

but i do hear the not-so-hushed whispers of my husband and his brother as they venture farther into the apartment.

i hear the ‘goodnight.’ from Luke before his bedroom door shuts. i hear the nursery door opening, the white noise from the room getting louder. and then a few minutes later, i hear the nursery door click shut and the sound of my husbands footsteps getting closer down the hall before our bedroom door opens.

my cheese stick is long gone, and my fingers now settle for playing with each other. my nails picking at the others as i still sit in a catatonic state of exhaustion; staring at the wall in front of me.

Jack lets out a breath of surprise when he notices i’m awake in the dim lighting of the bedside lamp.

“hey, lovie.” he leans down, his fists pressing down on the mattress top, and lays a swift kiss on my cheek before rising back up to his full height.

i glance over as he throws Eleanor’s pacifier onto his nightstand.

“i thought we agreed no more pacifiers when she turned one? she hasn’t had one in the past month.” he huffs, stripping his shirt off and throwing it towards the hamper in the corner of the bedroom, narrowly missing by an inch. he eyes the shirt for a millisecond before shrugging and repeating the process with his pants, this time making it in the hamper.

“yeah, well, you weren’t here to attend to her screams and i was.” i retort.

“so you resorted to the paci?” he questions, pulling a pair of flannel pajama pants out of his dresser drawer.

“stop mom-shaming me.” i snap, scooting down and flopping onto my side, my back facing Jack.

“lovie.” he sighs. the bed dips as he sits behind me. “that’s not what i was doing.”

“yes. you were.” i accuse. “you’re saying i’m a bad mom for giving my daughter what she needed in order to fall asleep.”

i turn in the bed to look up at him and he parts his lips to speak, but i keep going.

“but you weren’t here, Jack. you didn’t hear her cries, or have to try every trick in the book to calm her down. you weren’t awake with her for nineteen hours with no nap only to still have her fight bed time. so, yes, i resorted to the pacifier. and ya know what? it worked.”

“i get that you’re in a bad mood, but why are you taking it out on me? i wasn’t even here for you to get angry at me.” he remarks.

“i’m not.” i deny, closing my eyes and hoping he’ll take it as a sign to just let me sleep.

“you are.” he grunts. “and it makes me feel like i’m the bad guy for doing my job.”

“well, i wouldn't have to do this all alone if it weren't for your fucking job.” i know as soon as i say it that my words were uncalled for. but, before i can take them back, Jack stands from the bed, making my eyes fly open to look at him.

“do i not help when i’m home? i’m so sorry that me providing for our family is so hard for you.” he sneers. his sarcasm is not appreciated, and i sit up in the bed in anger. “i’m so sorry that you have to be a mother, while i’m gone making money so that you don’t have to work.”

i shuffle onto my knees on the bed, glaring daggers at my husband.

“when have i ever complained about being a mother? and when have i ever said that i don’t want to work? i never asked to stay at home! but it’s what i do, because not both of us can work without putting El in daycare. which you said you didn’t want to do.”

my finger juts at my chest before poking his. my words harsh in delivery, but quiet in attempt to not disturb the sleeping baby down the hall.

“i never once complained about being a mother. i love her.” i continue.

“are you implying that i don’t love her?” Jack fumes.

“i never said that!” i cry. “you’re putting words into my mouth!”

“i’m just trying to provide for us!” our attempted quiet is long forgotten now, and i can only hope that the white noise in El’s room is enough to mask our argument.

“you think i don’t know that?” i exclaim, he opens his mouth but i don’t let him get a word in. “i’m just saying that you don’t understand how exhausting it is being a single parent half the fucking hockey season! you leave and play games and go out to fucking bars to celebrate wins and i stay here and take care of our daughter, who for the past two weeks, only wanted you!”

Jack throws his hands up in the air, huffing in anger.

“well, i can’t help that! i get that it’s hard, but you’d think you’d be a bit more grateful. it’s part of my job to leave, y/n!”

of everything he’s said, it’s those words that cut me the deepest. and what hurts the most, as small as it may seem, is that within all of our fights, big or small, throughout our entire six years together, never once has he called me by my name while we fought.

it’s always ‘lovie’.

but suddenly, i’m ‘y/n’.

i lower myself onto my butt on the mattress. tears are streaming down my cheeks and i try to wipe them away before Jack can see them.

“now you’re gonna cry?” he lowers himself onto the bed and i push myself off of it in order to gain distance, now standing a couple feet away.

“i quit.” my voice is quiet and surrendered, my words sheltered. i watch as his face drops, lips parting in shock.

“what?” he mumbles, his eyes softening.

i shake my head, letting my tears flow freely now as i round the bed and i head toward the cracked open door.

“where are you going?” he questions, his tone still holding a dash of anger.

“to sleep in Luke’s room.” i reply. he calls after me but his words fall on deaf ears.

i need space.

i don’t bother knocking on Luke’s door, opening it to find him just now sitting down in bed, his hair wet and leftover steam drifting from his en-suite bathroom.

his head snaps over to the door as i close it, and at the sight of my tears, he pats the bed beside him.

a sob racks my chest as i crawl into bed with the boy i look at as a brother. he pulls me into his side, no words spoken between us as he rubs a hand over my hair, letting me cry into his chest and soak his plain white t-shirt.

a muffled cry escapes my lips and he squeezes me tighter, pressing a kiss to my scalp. nothing needs to be said, no words needed to be shared, just quiet shushes and his hand rubbing up and down my back, the other still holding my head tight to his chest in grounding.

i’m not sure how long passes before i cry myself to sleep, Jack’s words echoing on a loop inside my head.

‘you’d think you’d be a bit more grateful.’

***

i’m unsure what time it is when i awake, but Luke is gone from the bed, and the sun peeks through the bedroom window.

i know Luke and Jack have the day off, so if Luke is already up, then i must have slept in later than i usually do.

despite the apparent long sleep, i don’t feel as well rested as i should. my eyes flutter shut for a few moments, but at the sound of the familiar squeal of excitement from my daughter, drifting in through the crack in the door, my eyes fly back open.

i kick my legs free from the tangle of blankets and throw them over the side of the bed, peeling my tired body up off the mattress. i rub my eyes as i walk over to Luke’s bathroom, ignoring the mess amongst the counter and looking in the mirror.

my eyes are still red and puffy from crying, and i turn on the faucet, cupping my hands under the cold running water and splashing it on my face before drying it with the hand towel that’s thrown haphazardly on the counter.

exiting the bathroom and bedroom, i’m immediately met with the sight of El’s smiling face bounding down the hall. her chubby little legs wobble as she runs.

“mama! dada!” she squeals, motioning behind her. a grin overtakes my lips at her excitement.

“yeah? is dada home?” i ask with a laugh as she runs smack into my legs, reaching up with grabby hands.

my heart melts in my chest. for the first time in two weeks, she wants me.

“mama! dada!” she repeats as i hoist her up, lifting her above my head and rejoicing in her giggles.

my eyes are all too soon drawn to my husband at the end of the hall. he stands leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, a faint smile on his lips while my own falls at the sight of him.

our fight replays in my mind; flashes of his red face and his defensive stance. echoes of his harsh tone and his cruel words.

Jack approaches us, leaning down to press a kiss to my lips, but i shift my face, his lips landing on my cheek instead. pulling back, his face falls, hurt shining in his eyes. it hurts me to see him upset, but i can’t bring myself to feel too bad, as i, too, am hurting.

i maneuver around him, padding down the hallway with El in my arms, making my way to the open layout of the living room and kitchen.

Luke is sat on the couch, eyes on his phone while Lilo & Stitch plays on the tv, and i flop down beside him. El crawls into his lap, pushing his phone out of the way and pushing her smiling face into his line of sight. i watch his eyes light up, sliding his phone into his pocket and tickling her sides.

a laugh escapes my lips as he lifts El upside down in front of his face, making her giggle contagiously. but once again, my lips fall back straight as Jack enters the room again.

the day continues like this, living amicably with Jack, but not happily. as the day goes on, the more i reflect on our fight the night prior, and the worse i feel. i was in the wrong. i knew that last night and i know it now.

i know leaving El is hard for him, just as taking care of her without him is hard for me. but my guilt doesn’t erase his words.

i know he didn’t mean it, just as he knows that i didn’t mean mine, but it still hurts. he cut deep. he accused me of being ungrateful, the very same thing he knows my parents called me when i told them i was moving out.

‘you’re so ungrateful. we offered you to keep living with us even after your graduation, and you’d rather move out with your unstable little boyfriend than live with the people who raised you. well, don’t come crawling back to us, we don’t take ungrateful children.’

a lump grows in my throat as i compare the fights. it’s nine at night and Jack is in El’s room, putting her to sleep, Luke long having retired to his own bedroom, leaving me alone on the couch. my knees are pulled up to my chest, my arms hugging them tight, as tears stream down my cheeks.

a small part of me tells me i should apologize. i know if i do, he will too. he already seems to want to move past it.

but the larger part of me says to wait. to let him apologize to me. to make him acknowledge that we fought. instead of brushing past it like it never happened.

Jack strides into the living room, child free, and it’s the first time we’ve really been alone together all day.

i avoid his gaze, rather wiping my tears and averting my eyes to the television, which still plays the credits of The Little Mermaid from our before bedtime movie.

he sighs, taking a seat on the opposite side of the couch. his hand reaches out to graze my leg and i flinch at the soft touch. the larger part of me wins and i rise from the couch, stalking off to our bedroom and away from him.

i quickly change into my pajamas, hoping to be out of the bedroom before he comes in, but i’m not so lucky.

he enters the room as i’m pulling my t-shirt over my head. my t-shirt. not his. he notices this change quickly and shakes his head.

he stands silently, his back leaning against the now closed door as i pull on sweatpants, watching my every move.

i move to the en-suite bathroom when i’m done. making quick work of washing my face and brushing my teeth. when i finally finish with my nightly routine, i head back out to the still blocked bedroom door.

Jack eyes me up and down, and a quick wetting of his lips tells me he’s horny, but i laugh inside at the thought.

does me angry and upset, turn him on? does he really think he has any chance of getting lucky tonight when he hasn’t even apologized?

“can you move?” i huff, crossing my arms.

“where are you going now?” he questions, shaking his head.

“Luke’s room. again.”

“you know we have a bed, right? the one you were in last night before you left me alone in here.” his words twist my heart, but i stand my ground.

“oh, you mean the same bed i was sitting in when you implied that i’m ungrateful and selfish?” i mock, tilting my head.

“lovie.” his tone is defensive enough to let me know that he doesn’t plan on apologizing tonight, so rather than waiting and hoping for Jack to move, i push him aside lightly with my shoulder and slip through the door.

i knock lightly on Luke’s door and it doesn’t take long for him to open it, letting me slip through into the room.

“you guys are still fighting?” Luke asks, shutting the door and walking over to sit on his bed.

“i promise, this is the last time i’ll sleep in your room. if we’re still fighting tomorrow night, i’ll sleep on the couch.” i assure him, crawling up the bed and laying on my side, facing him.

“i don’t have a problem with you sleeping in here, lovie.” he sighs, laying down on his side so that we lay face to face. “i’ve just never seen you guys fight like this, ya know? you guys are usually so in love, it just scares me to see you fight. i want the best for both of you.”

my eyes soften and i raise my hand, running it softly through Luke’s unruly curls.

“Lukey, i’m still madly in love with your brother. one fight isn’t gonna change that.” i tell him. “he said some things that hurt me. i said things that i’m sure hurt him too. but we’ll get through this. we love each other.”

i speak with assurance, but at this point, i’m not sure if i’m reassuring Luke, or myself.

“you should go to sleep, bubs. you have practice in the morning.” i press a kiss to Luke’s forehead before he turns his bedside lamp off and flops down on his side, his back now facing me.

i follow suit, my back facing Luke as i close my eyes and let myself drift to sleep.

***

i’m woken up by little hands smacking my cheeks, immediately followed by the sound of my husbands whispers.

“oh no, El, we don’t smack mommy. we’re gentle.” he tells her softly, and soon after, i feel her open mouth press against my cheek; her version of a kiss.

my eyes flutter open and i’m met by the smiling face of my daughter. she’s held hovering above me by Jack, who seems worried for my reaction.

“hi, baby!” i coo, a smile stretching over my lips as i take her from him. “good morning, beautiful!”

“mama!” she cheers, followed by a steady stream of babbling.

“she woke up a couple hours ago. she was looking for you.” Jack tells me. “i just changed her diaper, and she already ate breakfast, but i noticed she’s been chewing on everything this morning, so i threw a couple of her teething toys in the freezer and she’ll probably want a popsicle soon to sooth her gums.”

i look up at him and nod, acknowledging that i heard him, before i sit up and lay El down on the bed, tickling her tummy and listening to her joyous giggles fill the room.

“Luke and i are off to practice, we’re running late.” he runs his hand over El’s hair, leaning down and kissing her forehead before turning to look at me again. “Luke said he wants to take El to the park after we get back. he said for me to ask you if you can have her dressed and her diaper bag ready for when he and i get back.”

“yeah, i can do that.” i reply and he nods, pushing off the bed and laying a kiss on my own forehead before he leaves the room.

i heave out a sigh, looking down at El, who’s already looking up at me.

“you wanna go take a shower with mommy?” i baby talk, pasting a smile back on my face. she smiles right back, grabbing at my shirt. “yeah, you do. you love showers, don’t you? my little water baby.”

*

El is all dressed and ready to go when Jack and Luke arrive home, while i stick the last snack into her diaper bag.

“hey, lovie.” Luke chimes, throwing an arm around my shoulder and squeezing my head into his chest. “she ready?”

“mhm! she should be good to go.” i confirm as i push out of his hold, stuffing the bag into his arms instead. “you have the stroller, right?”

“yeah, i’m taking Jack’s car and it’s already in the trunk.” he confirms, slinging the diaper bag over his shoulder and scooping his niece up from where she was already staring up at him by his legs.

“alright, say bye-bye to mommy and daddy!” Luke sings out, waving to us. El copies him, waving her entire arm about in order to wave goodbye, and with that, they’re out the door; leaving Jack and i in silence.

i busy myself by picking up the toys strewn about the living room floor, while Jack unloads the dishwasher. but tension lingers in the air.

maybe i should just apologize.

i hate this feeling.

i hate not being cuddled up with him right now.

we usually spend any El free hours curled up in our bed. napping, watching a movie, talking, or just taking part in general bedroom activities.

but instead, we’re across the room from each other, doing daily household chores and trying hard to avoid the screaming silence between us.

i drop a barbie into the toy box and stand up straight, looking towards my husband, who’s already staring at me with gentle eyes.

“i’m sorry.” i sigh, squeezing my eyes shut, holding my hands to my face. “i hate fighting.”

his hurried footsteps click against the wooden floors, stopping when he gets in front of me. his hands come up to mine, delicately pulling them away from my face before his arms encircle my waist.

“i hate it too.” he whispers, and i know his words hold a double meaning. he hates fighting and he hates leaving.

“i shouldn’t have said the things that i did. i shouldn’t have taken my bad mood out on you.” i let my head bob forward, my forehead laying against his chest. “i was tired, and i was angry at the situation, but not at you. never at you. you’re providing for our family, and i’m so glad that you get to do that by doing something you love.”

he kisses the top of my head, his lips lingering on my scalp.

“i’m sorry too.” he mumbles against me.

“i’m sorry for making it seem like i was mom-shaming you, i should’ve chosen my words more carefully. i’m sorry for making you feel bad. i’m sorry for accusing you of saying i don’t love her, i know that’s not what you were saying. and most of all, i’m sorry for implying that you were ungrateful. you’re not. i know you’re not. i should’ve never implied that you were.

“you’re an amazing mom, lovie. the best i could’ve ever hoped for El. i should’ve been more understanding about how hard it is for you to take care of her alone while i’m gone.”

i peer up at him, my chin still resting on his chest, and give him a pointed look.

“and i’m sorry for not calling you ‘lovie’.” he huffs out through a laugh. the corners of my mouth quirk up and i pull his head down to push our lips together.

my whole body melts even further into his, finally at peace for the first time in over two weeks.

[shhhsecretsideblog]

The airplane shakes as we descend onto the air strip. One of your hands is gripping the armrest and the other digging into my hands in a death grip. Your head was leant back into the chair, your chest rising and falling every second and your stomach constantly looked hard as a rock.

The plane bounces and rumbles when rubber meets road. The plane shakes as it rolls over the strip and slows to a stop. The rough landing making you yelp and hiss.

The plane ride is over. Now we just need to get off of it.

I wait for the other passengers to gather their things before I move to get a hold of a steward.

"Can I please get a wheelchair, my wife is feeling nauseous; I don't want her walking," I ask the stewards as the plane clears out of the rest of the guests.

They leave me to take care of you. I lift you up, but you resist and maintain your grip on the armrest.

"No more moving- it hurts. Burning, so much burning," you struggled to keep a whisper.

I pick you up anyway. Your legs quiver, your face twists as the full weight of our baby sits on your fully stretched opening. The seam of your jeans is soaked through and bowed out into the shape of the head. It's not moving through your jeans, but your composure won't last. Your breathe sharply as I sit you in the chair.

"Oooh, God, I need them out," you whimper.

"Soon, babe, soon."

I drape our carry-on bags on my shoulders and push you through the aisle and the terminal. The hospital isn't far from the airport, maybe an extra thirty or forty minutes is doable as long as we keep your shorts on.

The end of the gate reaches my view and I smile earnestly for the first time in hours.

"We're off the plane babe! Now we just-"

As soon as we exit the terminal, your voice rises to a scream you'd been holding back for hours.

"Get these pants off of me! I need to push!"

Part I Part II Part III

The wait for the entire plane to disembark was nothing short of torturous, hundreds of people packing their stuff and filing slowly out of one door. The guy in our row gave us a stern and annoyed glare as he strutted down the aisle.

I was grateful you’d gotten a wheelchair - there was no way in hell I’d have been able to walk anywhere with a baby stuck crowning between my legs. But as I sat in the well-worn leather of the wheelchair as you pushed me off the plane and out the gate, I felt just as trapped as I’d done in the aeroplane seat. My legs were as wide as I could get them in the wheelchair, my feet trembling on the foot rests, my arms gripping the handles either side. My body tried to push again and again and felt the resistance of my clothing, keeping any progress from being made. While the plane was landing that was a good thing but now, back on solid ground, I couldn’t take it any more.

As the last to leave the plane the long corridors were empty as you wheeled me towards arrivals. The baby was stretching me, the burning ring of fire consuming every part of my being, and alone in the corridor I released the hours of agony in the form of a guttural wail.

“Stop!!! Get-me-out-get-me-out!!!” I cried as my feet tried to find the floor.

The second you halted the wheels I shifted towards the end of the seat and almost threw myself out the chair and onto all fours in the middle of the corridor. I groaned and mooed, deep and primal, and then growled “Shorts-off-now!!!!! Need-to-pushhhh mnghhhhh can’t-hold-it-baby-coming!”

I tried to claw at my denim shorts but I needed both hands on the floor to balance. I heard you swear under your breath before kneeling beside me and trying to pull the maternity shorts across my large bump and over my hips.

“Lean on me babe, I need you more upright if I’m gonna pull these down.” You instructed.

I pushed myself up on to my knees and gripped each of your shoulders in a vice-like squeeze. I couldn’t speak, barely able to breathe, the only thought was the primal instinct to birth this baby. Right here. Right now.

I wailed again in your ear as the shorts slipped past my thighs and I immediately started pushing. Clinging on to you for dear life, I roared and grunted the baby’s bulging head further and further out. Your hands between my trembling thighs ready to catch our baby.

[okkotsuus]

MARTYRDOM (satoru g.) !

features: satoru gojo

contents: MAJOR SPOILERS (236 to 261). death. major character death. heavy angst. grief. crying. blood. bile mentioned. self-inflicted wound (knuckles). set in sukuna raid. hurt no comfort. some fluff if you go blind. i'm sorry. 1.8k words

notes: i'm actually gonna commit i hate gege so much. @saexy because ur my fav and u have to suffer with me! <333

the december air has always found a way to work it's chill deep into your bones. it makes your teeth chatter and a trill run up your spine. but there was an unusual heat burning in your sinuses.

sitting in the observation deck, huddled around a projection of the battlefield with the few people who understood what was actually happening in the world. your eyes burn, having been too devoted to whatever image was displayed to take a second to breathe. lungs stuttering and beginning to claw up your throat for single shred of air.

but you don't move.

no.

you cannot move.

there's a faint ringing in your ears, pounding louder and louder until a scream rips through the deafening silence. you don't even recognize it as your own, nor do you feel your kneecaps colliding harshly with the stone floor.

there he is. satoru gojo. the man you have loved for as long as you can remember. unmoving.

oh.

wait...

he just moved.

false alarm. it was just the top half of his body falling from the world-cutting slash that sukuna had just used to kill the strongest sorcerer of the modern age.

hot tears run down your face as your body moves instinctively to try to shatter the screen, held back by the clammy hands of kusakabe. your chest heaves in a gasping breath, only drawn in to fuel the wails erupting from your throat.

out of the corner of your eye, you can see yuta wincing, eyes drawn away from the scene of you crumbling. no one speaks, seemingly just as shocked as you. yet no one else cried.

it feels as if you are the only one left out of an unknown message, a warning that foretold of the events playing out in front of you.

because why would they tell you?

weak, pathetic, non-sorcerer you. you who can only see cursed spirits when in high stress because of an unfortunate accident with a sorcerer as a child. you who has no cursed technique, no ability to even harness your own cursed energy in basic imbuing. you who was possibly the weakest, the only one crying for the strongest.

teeth scrape against your tongue as the metallic taste of iron begins to fill your senses, going limp in kusakabe's hands. he lets go. your ears ring, the sounds of their hushed, urgent whispers escaping you.

you see yuta leave out of the corner of your eye, it doesn't register. you watch, numb, as kashimo and hakari charge into battle. the electric reincarnation is killed like fodder the second sukuna takes flesh.

for a long while, your sight is blurry, phasing in and out of reality in moments, recalling everything you loved about satoru gojo.

"satoru, who do you always wear your sunglasses when your not at work?" your voice asks, much softer and higher, a memory of youth. the two of you are maybe nineteen years old: young and stupid.

the white-haired man's blue gaze peeks over the rim of black lenses, confusion evident. then he remembers that you aren't like him, you don't know what it's like to constantly see filth crawling the streets. sweet y/n who doesn't even know that there's a flyhead buzzing around the room like a gnat.

you're untainted by this world, not ruined by jujutsu. you know it exists, only because of him and a run-in with a sorcerer when you were eight. but you don't know what it's like, and you never will: which is the greatest blessing satoru could ever wish you to have.

"i just like how they look, i am a natural beauty after all." he hums, eyes rolling as a grin parts his pink lips. because if he could help it, you wouldn't ever have to know what the world was truly like.

a clamor disrupts your thought, hearing shoko rushing out of the room. your eyes widen, stumbling shakily to your feet, catching your balance against the wall. maki mumbles something to try to get you to say, but you don't hear her.

chasing after the sound of peach-heels clicking against tiled floor, you catch a glimpse of white hair under a bloodied sheet. then a stainless steel door is slammed shut.

"shoko, please, let me see him..." you plea, hand fumbling with the knob, only to find the exam room locked. tears burn hot behind your eyes, sweaty palms pressing against the cold metal: fogging it up. your heart stops as you realize the possibility that gojo planned for his death.

deep down in your heart, you knew he wouldn't let himself rest, even when his life had long-departed his corpse. it makes you desperately knock against the door, mind remembering the pseudo geto that had trapped satoru in the prison realm.

"shoko, you can't do this to him, you can't just use him like this. you of all people should know what this means..!" your voice is shaky, panic rising in your veins as you remember the night staoru shared his broken heart with you.

"what kind of question is that? you can be both." your voice is older now, aged twenty-seven. white hair is strewn over your thighs, deft fingers carding through snowy tresses. satoru hums, eyes closing.

he reaches up, finger flicking teasingly against your forehead. "no one but you thinks that, angel. to the world, i am either 'the strongest' or 'satoru gojo.' that is simply how it works for me." his tone was even, nonchalant even. as if this was a reality he had co,e to terms with through a long life of turmoil.

a pout curls your lips downwards, looking into pools of serene blue as satoru stares right back up at you. a sigh puffs from your lips, hunching over to press a kiss against his forehead, pushing strands of ivory out of your way.

"to me, you'll always be my 'toru..."

memories fade away like dust in the wind when the clatter of metal jars you back into reality. it'ls likely shoko setting her instruments against her steel tray, likely preparing to operate on the corpse of the man you have never been able to love as much as you wished.

"shoko, please. please let him be human before being 'satoru gojo' or 'the strongest,' let him rest." the words fall from your lips like a prayer, desperation dripping in your tone. sinking to your knees, back pressed against the door, head in your hands. "you know i can't do that, y/n..."

the world moves to fast to allow grief to process. and fate was a cruel mistress. she had a penchant for kicking the weak while they were already down. which was why yuta okkotsu was being rushed behind the door you were restricted from entering: a large laceration running diagonally along his stomach.

the same wound that killed satoru, simply shallower.

but the difference was that yuta was conscious and alive.

he met your eyes for a moment, a weak smile on his face. and that same steel door was slammed against you once again. but you heard what the boy had said before it clicked shut and locked.

and the words shattered you further, if at all possible.

"i'm sorry, y/n, i'll try to bring him back to you in one piece."

it was so quiet, so faint, so soft that you just barely heard him. but it sent a wave of heat through your body, fists pounding against the steel with a reckless abandon, no matter the blood smearing over it, nor the pain pulsing from your knuckles.

deep down, you knew what was about to happen.

a part of you knew the second they retrieved gojo's body. you weren't enough of a fool to think it was simply for a proper burial. but the foolish part of your heart wanted to believe it so desperately.

you didn't need to speak, heavy sobs coming out of you, throat rubbed raw from screaming far too much in far too little time. they were going to stuff a child: yuta into your sweet satoru's body. like some sort of marionette puppet. just so the man could die for them twice.

"why did you start teaching, satoru?" again, younger, stupider, twenty five and beginning to thrive. he looks up from the small stack of papers in his hand, legs kicked up on his desk: the least teacher-like way to sit.

for once, he's serious, blue eyes looking straight through you, as if you weren't even there. it sent a chill up your spine, frozen in place. the man hums, eyes closing in thought and you can finally breathe.

finally he speaks, voice certain and doubtless. "i am going to teach the next generation of jujutsu, so that they will never have to bear the burden of being the strongest alone. and one day, they will succeed me. no one should be allowed to take youth away from young people."

you recognize the familiar look in his eyes, one that trancended this plane: that went beyond his own mortality. satoru gojo had never once been afraid of death, as if the concept entirely was foreign to him.

he doesn't react when he burns his hand on the stove, just running it under cold water and returning to what he was doing. he doesn't see a crash and think how it easily could've been him. he doesn't feel his throat begin to close up when death is narrowly avoided.

it was as if satoru gojo had known he would die a martyr since the moment he was born.

and there was a possibility he did.

footsteps without the click of a heel sound behind the door, sending bitter bile up your throat that burns against the rawness from your wails. tears well up instinctively, as if to blur your vision to prevent you from seeing what you knew was inevitably coming.

the lock clicks open, and you nearly die.

there stands satoru gojo, the same as before he left this morning.

but everything is wrong.

the way he stands. the rhythm he draws breath. the order his eyes scan over your face. the pattern he steps in. the way his hands feel when grasping yours.

"i'm sorry, miss y/n, but the fate of the world rests on this."

it was all wrong.

you couldn't even bare to look satoru- no. yuta in the eyes, knowing you'd have to see yourself in those crystalline irises, and you'd have to see the state that the world's treatment of your one and only left you in.

okkotsuus 24