#even though by the time this con happens I might not really care | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

arachine · 2 years ago

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yes, i'm ready (to fall in love)

── ˚₊✩‧₊ genre: smut, fluff, mild angst

── ˚₊✩‧₊ synopsis: after reader is persuaded into putting herself back out there by long time friend, shoko, she successfully ends up scoring a date. unbeknownst to her, though, the gods have different plans—and one of them seems especially interested in her relationship with ex-husband, gojo satoru.

or in other words: a failed date results in a night of passion amongst former lovers.

── ˚₊✩‧₊ contents: 13.5k words, ex-husband!gojo + co-parent!gojo, slight dub-con (alcohol use), dumbification, overstimulation, vaginal penetration, unconventional form of contraception (pull-out method - don’t do this), pussy eating + one oc for the sake of plot

── ˚₊✩‧₊ note: i know this is really long and most people don’t have the attention span for it but PLEASE give it a chance! this is literally the longest piece of fiction i’ve ever written and i’m really proud of it :(

songs to listen to for best reading experience: donny hathaway - i love you more than you’ll ever know barbara mason - i’m ready partynextdoor - showing you bryson tiller - been that way

After you divorced your ex-husband, and decided to devote all of your time to being a mother, you never really considered getting back into the dating world. Not that you didn’t eventually want to settle down with someone new, but the dating world now was just so–different.

Different in the sense that meeting people organically was becoming increasingly difficult. It wasn’t like how it used to be in high school or college, and it really didn’t take that much effort then to get a man’s number by the end of your outing.

When you were in your early twenties, a brush of your hand on a man’s arm would’ve worked. An ‘accidental’ bump into someone at a grocery store or cafe might’ve ended in a quick lay. Using these tactics today, though, might earn you some weird looks–have–earned you some weird looks.

You’re on call with a friend from college when you begin recounting something embarrassing that happened to you recently. At first, the conversation started out about all of the professors you would’ve slept with (if given the chance), but then, one thing led to another, and she asked you something that made you wince:

“‘How’s your dating life been since, you know, Satoru?’”

There’s a heavy silence from your end, and she almost thinks you hung up.

“I mean, if you want to share,” she splurts, attempting to approach this gently, “I know that after the divorce, I wasn’t there for you like you needed, but I’d like to make up for that–if you’d let me.”

Shoko’s always been like that. Blunt and charismatic, but gentle and zephyr-light in the way she cares for those closest to her. It’s a trait of hers that you admire, because not so many people would care to treat your heart with such fragility.

“No, it’s okay. You can ask, you know, it’s not this secret thing,” you start, sighing before continuing, “it happened, and it was a mutual decision.”

Shoko hums on the other side, “Well, I’m still sorry. I let us go without talking for far too long…”

“Well, I accept your apology, even if it’s unwarranted. Like I said, it was mutual and…there wasn’t really an intense grieving period for me? The only thing that hurt me is that you distanced yourself. I mean, the girls did miss their aunt Shoko…” you say, trying to make her feel bad but not too bad.

“I know, I know, I’m a bad aunt,” she jests, then the tone shifts to something serious. “I think I was just scared because both of you were my best-friends. I didn’t want to ‘pick sides’, but I see now that it was a mutual decision, so I’m assuming you two are on good-terms?”

Again, you pause, “I mean, yeah. Satoru will always be my best friend. We may not be together romantically but he’s such an integral part of my life, I couldn’t do this–all of this–alone.” After you say it, you feel a weight being lifted off of your chest that you didn’t know was even there.

You think nobody would understand if you told them this. You think they’d question how a person could divorce someone who’s supposed to be their best-friend. And with the way you describe it, they’d probably think you were still in love with him. But Shoko’s different, she gets it. Which is why saying it to her came so easily.

“He is a great father,” she chimes in, “but you two rushed into it so quickly, I don’t think either of you had time to discover yourselves after college.”

Although she can’t see it, you smile. Because she gets it. Even if time did place itself in between the two of you, she was there for most of it, when things were still touch-and-go. When things were fresh, and clumsy.

“Exactly, that was our biggest gripe,” you admit, “We didn’t afford ourselves that time to grow, and I think that hindered our relationship. We weren’t husband and wife first, we were parents–and we were young, way too young.”

“You made it, though,” Shoko tries to brighten the mood, “you’re both amazing parents, and I know those beautiful girls that you created are lucky to have you.”

The intimacy of the conversation sends your emotions into overdrive. You quickly realize how much you missed her, how much you yearned to talk to her. To reconnect on this level.

A single tear cascades down your cheek, and you try not to sound like you’re crying when you say, “Ok, enough about that. You wanted to know about my shitty dating life, right?”

It happened last week, the grocery store incident. You were out picking up a few things for dinner when you spotted a cute guy standing outside of the aisle a few rows from you. He was fit beyond measure, in looks and strength, and was wandering around aimlessly in pursuit of red pepper flakes.

Coincidentally, you just happened to be in the seasoning aisle, and like the good samaritan you were, decided to personally hand-deliver it to him.

You wince as you vividly recall the embarrassing ordeal that ensued immediately after.

“Hey,” you peer from behind the aisle, with a bottle of red pepper flakes in tow. “I heard you mumbling about finding this, and you looked pretty lost, so I thought I’d pick ‘em out for you.”

The man’s brows furrow briefly before his lips up-turn into a grateful smile, “Oh, cool, thank you so much!” As quickly as the conversation started, it ends even quicker. He gives you a final nod of endearment before he’s turning around on his heels to resume his shopping.

“God, could he be any more dense? The men today really make you work for it, huh?” you mumble to yourself, pulling the bosom of your blouse down until a good amount of cleavage is on display. “Okay, alright. You got this, you got this. This always used to work, right? Yeah, men love boobs.”

Walking up to the man again, you try a different approach–a bolder approach. “Not to be a bother but I was wondering if I could-”

“Babe? Oh, there you are,” a new voice interjects. The owner of the voice emerges from around the corner and walks up to the man with a cart and a baby in tow. You’re stunned, to say the least. All you can do is stand there and blink in complete and utter dumbfoundment. As you remain in their presence, you take a moment to analyze the woman. She’s gorgeous, and toned. A real model-type broad, with feline-ish features that make so much sense paired with the man who appears to be her partner.

Oh, you think, and apparently say aloud, too. That’s when the woman turns to you, finally acknowledging your much smaller, and much quieter presence.

“Hi, can we help you?” she smiles, and it’s actually genuine. Toothy and perfect, and totally not jealous. You blink once, twice, before gathering your wits to answer her question.

“Yeah, uh, no. I actually, uhm, was helping your h-husband. He was looking for red pepper flakes,” you mutter embarrassedly, and point to the bottle in his hand. Upon further observation, you notice that she isn’t exactly wearing a ring. You find this odd, especially because his not wearing a ring is what encouraged you to pursue him. Carefully, you prod.

“If I may ask, how come neither of you are wearing rings?” The couple gives each other a look, one that makes you feel like the odd man out. A look that is universally known, and without a doubt, could easily be translated to: ‘did this chick really just ask that?’

Still, you smile as you wait for an answer. The woman takes the initiative. “Yeah, we don’t really believe in rings, isn’t that right, babe?” she says so matter-of-factly. You blink again for what seems like the thousandth time, because of all things, you did not expect that to come out of her mouth. Her husband is quick to validate her statement.

“Yeah, we think rings are unnecessary, you know? You don’t need a piece of metal to confirm your feelings,” he says walking to his partner’s side and wrapping an arm around her.

Disgustingly, the two give each other googly eyes before locking lips briefly. You can tell they’re the type to probably share this information with just about any soul who asks. Today, you just happened to be that unfortunate soul.

“Are you married?” she queries, tilting her head against her husband’s chest.

“I was, now we just…co-parent,” you purse your lips, ready for this entire interaction to be over. The woman frowns at your answer, and this time it’s not as genuine.

“Awe, well, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It was actually a mutual decision,” you quip.

“Okay,” she smiles, widening her eyes at her husband to signal a departure, “well, it was nice meeting you, and thank you for the red pepper flakes.”

The family turns away and heads to the front where check-out is. You don’t even buy the items you intended to purchase, just leave your cart in the middle of whatever aisle you abandoned it and leave the store.

“Oh, baby, you didn’t?” Shoko asks in horror. You nod your head, still forgetting she can’t see you and the way you’re sliding down against the wall.

“I did, and I shan't ever again,” a laugh erupts from your throat.

“I mean, fuck, are we getting old? ‘Don’t believe in rings,’” she mumbles, “Don’t believe in rings, my ass! Is this what the youth are doing these days? Not proposing with rings?”

Now that you think about it, you wonder how that would even work. “Yeah, right? I mean, how does that even work? ‘Will you marry me? But, actually, you should know I don’t have a ring for you, so people will have to guess that we’re together purely based on vibes and energy,’” you mock, in a not-so-great man voice.

Shoko’s laughing so hard by the end of your bit that she breaks the sound barrier, and the sound that makes on the phone sends you into your own fit of laughter. You laugh so hard it seems like a stream of pee comes out. Curse your developed incontinence after motherhood.

“God, you’re so stupid, I can’t breathe,” she says exasperatedly, and you know that on the other side she’s probably keeling over in her bed.

“Oh, please. I bet you haven’t laughed this hard in a long time, bitch.”

“I haven’t,” she cackles. This back-and-forth continues until the two of you settle down enough to continue discussing your (pee-inducing) love life.

“You tried any dating apps?”

It’s a simple and valid question, but it only makes you laugh even harder. You only stop when the other side of the line goes quiet. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. It’s what everyone’s doing these days! You’re not that old, you know.”

“Shut up,” you kid, “ it’s just that I never considered it. I mean, dating apps feel so impersonal. How serious do people even take it?”

“Sure, there’s people who use it for casual hook-ups and stuff, but a lot of people do come out of it with a relationship. Just don’t knock it ‘till you try it.”

“Oh?” you muse, curious. You wish Shoko could see your face, and the weird little dance your brows were doing. “Shoko, have you used a dating app before?”

The brunette kisses her teeth. “Can’t get anything past you.”

“Never.”

There’s a sense of hesitance but you encourage her to elaborate because ‘she became estranged from you for almost a decade and needed to pay her dues’. Sighing defeatedly, she eventually acquiesces.

“Fine, fine, maybe I’ve…been on a few dates,” she starts, “–and had a few one night stands, maybe more than a few, and maybe even dated a guy that turned into my stalker–”

“Ieiri Shoko! You naughty, naughty girl! Wait, stalker?”

“To make a long story short, I got a restraining order on that creep. Anyway,” she segues, attempting to change the subject, “We should make you a profile!”

For the rest of your phone call, Shoko guides you through all of the dating app basics. She offers her expert advice as you scroll through your camera roll for potential photos to use. You go through about a hundred before you finally settle on five that she really likes.

The one that she tells you to put first is a photo of you in a bikini. It’s a few years old but she says you look ‘radiant’ and that your ‘tits were practically spilling out of the cups’. Plus, for further consolation, she says most people on dating apps are liars.

“Everyone’s got at least one old photo on their profile, doesn’t make you a catfish,” she quips, “just means you’re a nostalgic person!”

“Right…”

The next one is a selfie. You’re smiling big in it, showing your gums, and it’s genuine. Shoko says guys like those types of photos because it shows them that you’re approachable. It also won her over because it’s fairly recent, too.

Out of all your photos, there’s only a select few that were taken within the year. You had to admit to her that you never really took photos of yourself anymore. Satoru took most of your candids. Still, she had a mission. And she wasn’t going to be satisfied until she stuck around to see your first match.

“After the selfie you should put the one of you with the girls.”

The picture she’s referring to is one Satoru also took. You remember that day fondly, and even now, the memories feel like a warm embrace.

about 8 years ago . . .

“Dad, mom, look! Hurry!” Hana, your oldest, shouts. Satoru and you are sitting on a blanket up on the sand dunes with Haruki, who’s trying her best to make a sand castle–to no avail.

“What is it, hon?” Satoru and you rush over to her, snatching toddler Haruki in the same breath. When you get to the scene, a flood of warmth washes over you upon discovering the ‘threat’.

“See, it’s baby turtles!” Hana’s squatting in the sand, watching with pure and unfettered fascination as the hatchlings crawl north to the ocean. When she looks up at you, with eyes so bright, and a smile so big that’s missing two of her front teeth, you want to cry.

“Oh, hon, that’s beautiful,” you gasp, lowering to your haunches so that you can join her. Satoru is about to follow suit before deciding at the last minute to go back to the blanket. When he returns, he snaps a picture unbeknownst to you. Eventually, though, you turn your gaze to him and he captures–what he used to think then–the ‘prettiest’ photo of you.

“You sneaking photos of me?” you squint, pointing at him. He trods closer until he’s standing above you. Then he snaps another. Your head’s tilted up, and you’ve got one eye open, and the other closed because of the sun. He always liked when you squinted like that because it made your nose do this cute little scrunch.

“Yup, ‘cause you’re my muse.”

You’re pulled out of your daydream when Shoko says your name on the other line.

“You still there?”

“Yeah, it’s just…”

“Just what?” she queries, waiting for a response.

“I wanna use it, but my ex-husband took it. It feels weird, you know? And do I want to use a photo of me with the girls?”

“Hon, who cares if Satoru took the photo? It’s still a good photo, and to answer your second question, why wouldn’t you include a picture with your girls?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’m just afraid no one will be interested. Nothing about a picture of a mom with her two daughters exactly screams ‘fuck me’.”

Shoko lets out a small chuckle but you’re being serious. “Oh, sweetie. You’re so cute. Milfs are in these days, I don’t think I’m the one getting old, I think it’s just you!”

“Ha-ha, laugh at the mom,” you feign annoyance, but give her a laugh in return.

“But seriously, please use that photo. Nobody’s going to skip you just because you’re a mom. A lot of men on there have kids of their own, just gotta tweak your settings,” Shoko reassures you.

By the end of your call, the profile is set. You thank your old friend for the previous heart-to-heart conversation, and the time she spent helping you set up your profile.

“Keep me updated, and don’t talk about mom stuff, okay? Now, I’m not saying you can’t talk about them,” she begins, “but show these guys your personality! I know she’s in the closet somewhere hiding next to our old slutty clubbing clothes.”

Then, the both of you say your goodbyes and she wishes you a good-luck on your newly established dating journey. As you lay in your bed, you give your profile a final onceover. Not too bad, you think to yourself.

You ended up using all of the photos she had originally picked out for you. Even the beach photo. To compensate for your old photos, though, Shoko made sure that your prompts were witty and full of personality.

“I’d match me, I think. No, yeah, these are funny. She did a good job.”

The following day, you open your phone to fifty notifications from the dating app. A tingle of excitement shoots through your body from the tip of your toes, to the top of your head. It takes all of your might not to squeal in the office.

“Holy fuck,” you whisper at your desk. The amount of notifications that you initially saw on your homescreen read ‘50’ but when you opened the app, it showed you an overwhelming ‘100’ with a fat plus sign next to it. “Wait, are these all the people who liked me? Shoko’s gonna flip.”

Getting up from your chair, you make a beeline to the nearest bathroom. Not that you have to use it, but so you can scroll through all the potential prospects without your boss seeing you on your phone.

Pulling open the door to the bathroom, you close it shut behind you and lock it. A few minutes pass in the time you’re able to get through about half of the people who liked you. You end up skipping a lot of them. They’re either too young, too self-absorbed, creepy, or just downright not your type.

Some stick out, though. Even trick you into thinking they’re potential matches, but then the other shoe drops–because there’s always another shoe. You’ll scroll through their profiles, and they’ll seemingly have all the perfect traits: intelligent, witty, handsome, tall–and then, boom. You see their ‘don’t want kids’ preference. Every failed match only discourages you more and more.

It’s weird, because your profile preferences are set to ‘have kids’ and you even have a photo pictured with your girls. So why are men liking your profile despite that? After a few more scrolls, you’re just about ready to head back to your desk but then–you have a hit.

Your finger hovers over the ‘x’ at the bottom of the screen, then retracts. The guy’s profile at first impression is miles better than the rest, it’s almost too good to be true. His first photo is what piqued your interest. It’s of him posing for a silly photo with his sons, and he’s got his arms draped around their shoulders.

As you scroll down his profile, you see that there’s even more of him with his children. You take this as a green flag. He wants people to know he has kids, and that he isn’t embarrassed to show them off. You admire him for it.

The last few remaining photos are an amalgamation of selfies and full-body photos. To the average, well-adjusted adult, looks wouldn’t be a deal breaker. But he definitely wasn’t too bad on the eyes, and you were not complaining about that–especially, after the odd men you had to scroll through to get here. In other words, he was gorgeous and still fit despite being older than you (him, respectively being in his early forties).

Checking the time on your phone, you realize that you’re pushing your little ‘bathroom break’. Before heading back to your desk, you decide to respond to his first photo.

You: Cute! Could never get my girls to stand so still for a photo like this now haha :)

Work goes by slower than you’d like, but finishes up just in time when you get a notification from the dating app. You’re a little more excited than you’d care to admit. Tidying up your workspace, you say your goodbyes to your colleagues and head to the elevator. Absent-mindedly, you rush to answer his message but realize it won’t go through because of the elevator’s poor service.

Kazuki: Oh, they’re moody and grown now, don’t be fooled. I can't remember the last time I saw my youngest smile.

You don’t answer his reply until you get home. Actually, you do just about everything but answer his reply: check on the girls, shower, prepare dinner, pour a glass of wine–you’re nervous, and you don’t know why. But you know you should probably answer soon before he becomes disinterested. So you get comfortable in bed with your glass of wine and pull open his chat.

You: Lol, know that all too well. Kids are little assholes, aren’t they?

The speed in which he reads your text is startling, you don’t even have enough time to close out of the chat. Then, he responds.

Kazuki: Hell yeah they are!

Kazuki: Sometimes I want to strangle my youngest. He’s at that age where he’s starting to rebel and question everything. I told him he was supposed to be the ‘easy’ one, but his knucklehead brothers are bad influences on him…Tell me, does it ever get easier?

You: Sounds a lot like my oldest. She used to cling to me like a koala but now she’s the ring leader, and I’m the enemy. My youngest still loves her mama, though (for now lol).

You: And to answer your question, I’d like to think so?

You take a second before continuing your response. Shoko told you to keep the mom talk limited, but this seems to be working for you so far, and he’s genuinely interested in what you have to say. So for once, you’re going to ignore her advice.

You: Kids go through phases. It's our job to reassure them that we’re not going anywhere. No matter how much they push us away or try to, that is :)

Kazuki’s chat bubbles pop up, then disappear. You think he’s deciding on what to say.

Kazuki: I can tell we’re gonna get along great. It’s nice opening up like this, you know? Talking to another parent. If I'm being honest, dating apps have always intimidated me…

Kazuki: People see kids as ‘baggage’, and it really bothers me. My kids aren’t baggage. They’re the best parts of me. And if someone doesn’t see that, then we have no business getting to know each other.

Kazuki: Sorry for getting all sappy. Just felt like I needed to say it.

His apology makes you frown. It feels like a breath of fresh air to hear someone talk about their kids so lovingly, because you feel the exact same way. You’re glad you downloaded the app, and you make a mental note to thank Shoko again later (after you debrief her about this).

You: Never apologize for speaking about your kids! And if we’re being absolutely transparent, that was my biggest gripe with downloading this app, too.

You: I’m so glad we matched each other. I’d like to get to know you more. And I’m hoping the feeling’s mutual?

Kazuki: It’s more than mutual.

Kazuki: Don’t want to get ahead of myself but how do you feel about dinner? There’s a cool high-scale restaurant in the city that I haven’t been to yet. Heard it’s got two Michelin stars despite opening up not too long ago.

The prospect of going on a sit-down dinner date has your stomach in knots. It’s been a hot minute since the last time you’ve done so, but you’re eager to know the man behind the screen on a more personal level. Plus, being treated to a high-scale restaurant with two Michelin stars doesn’t seem too bad either. You’re never one to turn down free dinner.

You: I’d love to, but how soon we talkin’? Gotta see if it’ll align with my schedule.

Kazuki: How’s this Friday at 8 sound? :)

The days leading up to Friday breeze by in a blur. For the majority of the week, it feels like you’re walking on cloud nine. Eventually, the conversation transitions from the dating app to exchanging phone numbers, and since then, the two of you have been texting back-and-forth everyday.

You talk about mundane things. Work, shows, movies, books you’ve recently read, what your kids are up to–but the other things? The other messages are flirty, and sexy, and filled with so much tension that it could cut a rope in half.

In between messages, the two of you have also exchanged a few photos. Nothing risqué or anything of that nature, just random photos of you throughout the day. The last one he sent was a few hours ago of him at work, captioned with: ‘Could this meeting be any longer?’.

You reply to the message with the ‘ha ha’ reaction, in consideration of not wanting to get him in trouble at work (even if he was the one who initiated the conversation). As the days go by, though, you make it a habit to update Shoko every step of the way.

Her first reaction to hearing about him was enthusiastic. That is, until you showed her screenshots from his profile. You vaguely remember her saying something that was meant as a compliment, but came out more like an insult.

“‘Oh, he’s a dad!” was her initial response, “oh, he’s a dad…and he really loves his kids. You’re meant for each other.’”

When you tried to ask her what she meant by that, she changed the subject. Every update since then has earned slightly more positive reactions, though.

Today, you ask her for more advice. Only this time, you’re on video call.

“Shokoooo,” you drawl, “our date is tomorrow! You have to help me find something to wear.” The panic in your voice is so palpable, she can almost feel your shaky hands through the screen. Flipping the camera, you hurriedly pan your phone around the closet.

“Breathe, girl, breathe,” she demonstrates first, before telling you to repeat the same motions. “Take me to that section over there–no, not that one–wait, yep, there.” You amble over to the area she’s directing you to through the phone.

“What’s that black little number right there?” She points. You prop the phone up on a shelf and scour through the section, tugging out a dress you haven’t seen in ages (which has you questioning how she even spotted it because it was pretty far back into the closet). Walking back into frame, you hold the fabric up to your body.

Shoko nods in approval, “That’s the one, babe. Try it on!”

It’d been about a decade since the last time you wore this dress. It’d also been about a decade since you were ever this small. Looking in the mirror, you run your hands over every surface inch, every crevice of the dress, in a newfound sense of appreciation for the adult weight you’ve gained since becoming a mother.

The dress was always stunning but it hugged everything perfectly even more so now. When you walk back into frame, your friend gives you a look of pure adoration. She’s so enthralled that she snaps a few screenshots for keepsaking.

“Thank god it’s Satoru’s turn to get the kids tonight,” she says, “‘cause you’re definitely getting some tonight.”

You roll your eyes, reminding her she’s on speaker phone. “Oh, please. It’s just dinner!”

“Not in that dress,” she retorts, wagging her finger in the camera. While the two of you continue to chat about the details of tonight, a knock on your bedroom door draws your attention.

“Mom, can I come in?” the voice sounds. It’s Haruki.

“Come in, hon!”

After you give the ok, you turn to Shoko and mouth to her to behave. Haruki turns the knob and enters, closing the door behind her. She sees you standing in front of the mirror before you see her, and silently utters a ‘wow’. You’re just about done putting your earrings in when you join her in the other room.

“What do you think, bun? Does your mom look hot?” you spin around, smoothing your hands down the length of the dress. You wait in anticipation for her approval, because if anyone could tell it like it is, it was always going to be a kid. Your Haruki was no exception.

“You look really pretty, Mom. I’m glad you’re going out tonight, I mean, you don’t really have friends so I think this will be good for you,” she elaborates, though you wish she would’ve stopped at the compliment.

Still, it puts a smile on your face to hear her verbalize that she’s okay with you doing something for yourself. You never quite discussed the prospect of getting back out there with your kids–and not even intentionally. It just never felt like the right time.

“You could’ve stopped at the compliment, punk!” you grab her, then wrap her in your arms, “but thank you. Love you, bun.”

“Love you more, mama.” Neither of you make the effort to pull away. Instead, you both stand there. Hugging, breathing, embracing each other’s warmth. You don’t always get hugs this good, so when you do, you savor it. Drag it out until your arms and legs get all tingly.

Or until someone interrupts. Another knock on the door. This time it’s Hana.

“Ew, what’s going on?” Hana feigns a look of disgust. You know she’s just jealous; she’ll never admit it, though. Which is why sometimes you have to force her to participate.

“Get over here,” you scrunch your nose, forcefully pulling her into your tight embrace. She tries to protest but eventually accepts defeat. You squeeze them both until they whine that they can’t breathe anymore. Then you squeeze them some more because this one’s for you.

“My special girls,” you breathe in, taking in all of their love. Soaking it all up so that tonight you have the courage to try again. To allow yourself a love of your own. When you let go, there’s a sniffle from the closet. It totally dawned on you that Shoko was still on the phone.

“They’re so big now, they don’t even know their auntie,” she fakes a sob, blowing her nose into a tissue.

“Mom, who’s on the phone?” Haruki queries with a confused expression etched onto her face. It suddenly dawns on you again that although you’ve been communicating with Shoko again, you haven’t exactly told them.

“Hey, you came in here to tell me something right, Han?” Your attempt to change the subject is poorly done, which doesn’t come as a surprise to you considering deflection has never quite been an ability you excelled at. Nonetheless, the look of suspicion they give you after is fleeting before they explain to you in unison that their father is here.

“Your father’s been waiting down there this whole time and nobody cared to tell me?” you whisper-yell, left eye twitching to emphasize your ill-preparedness. The girls only shrug their shoulders in response, like this was something you were just supposed to know.

“Well, you did force us into a hug and make us do all that Kumbaya stuff,” Hana mumbles under her breath.

“Okay, enough about all that. Are you guys all packed? Where are your bags? I don’t want your dad seeing–”

“You don’t want dad to see your date, right?” Hana raises a brow, all knowing. Sometimes she was a little too smart for her own good. You want to blame that on the private schools Satoru had them enrolled in, but really you just know she’s just a menace in her own right. She learned that from him.

“I agree with the kid,” a voice chimes in. You rush to the closet and grab your phone from the shelf. There’s a huge, shit-eating grin on Shoko’s face. Somehow she’s responsible for this. You don’t know how yet, nor do you have proof, but you know it.

“Okay, thank you, love you, bye!” Before you can hang up, Shoko blurts something.

“Tell him I said hi,” she begins, “–andnottogetahardonwhenheseesyou!”

You hang up the call and roll your eyes, chuckling to yourself because of her idiocy. When you enter the corridor, you hear a faint sound of hushed voices from downstairs. It’s only when you round the bannister at the top, when those voices become discernible and louder.

You stop at the top, and when your eyes meet his, it feels like all the air in your lungs have expelled. Suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of what you’re wearing, and the fabric, and the way it clings to your body. Neither he, nor you, look away–you should, you want to, but you don’t.

And in the time the two of you gaze upon the other, time stops for a modicum of a second. In this second, you and him are the last two souls in the world. At least, that’s how it feels anyway before he breaks eye contact.

You shift your gaze shortly after, and put on a trained smile. Those eyes of his were always so intense. You guess you forgot over the years how easy it was to lose yourself in the crystalline pools of them. Gathering your wits, you resume your movements and saunter down the imperial staircase.

“Hey, didn’t mean to keep you waiting. Sort of lost track of time, but I think the girls are all packed,” you say, your voice coming to a decrescendo upon noticing the way his eyes trail over your frame. They’re unreadable, though. Indifferent, and honestly, you’re not sure how to feel. So, you begin fidgeting uncomfortably with the rings around your finger.

Then, he smiles. It’s eerie and fake. “Not a problem, I haven’t been here too long. But, uh,” he begins ambling around the place, touching random objects around the living room, “Didn’t know you had plans. What’s the occasion? Going out for drinks with your colleagues?”

You furrow your brows, confused with his sudden interests in your plans. It wasn’t really like him to prod. “No, actually,” you rock back-and-forth on the balls of your heels, “i’m…i’m going on a date,” you finish with a pursed smile. He only nods his head in response, still walking around the place touching stuff, messing with the picture frames on the mantle. They’re all crooked now.

“How come this is the only picture you have up of me,” he asks suddenly. You know, that he knows, the answer to that. And he knows, that you know, you’ll indulge in his games anyway.

“The girls wanted them in their rooms. Why do you ask? You want me to go grab them and put ‘em all up around the house?” Again, he doesn’t say anything. Just gives you a final once over before heading back to the foyer to ask if the girls are all set to go.

“Yeah, but I can’t find my tablet, dad. Can I go look for it?” Haruki speaks up. “I thought I packed it.”

Satoru looks at the time on his watch, pinches the crease in between his brows. “Sure, kiddo. Can we make it quick, please?” He throws his hand in the air for emphasis, then points to his watch. Haruki nods, then runs up the stairs.

“Actually, you go on up too and help your sister. You guys are holding up dad,” you turn to Hana and gesture for her to head up with your head. She rolls her eyes, yelling up the stairs for her younger sister to ‘freaking hurry up’.

You and Satoru both turn to each other with wide eyes, laughing at the nerve of those children.

“They get that attitude from you, you know,” you point to him, driving your index finger into his bicep.

“You sure? Their mom’s got a pretty bad mouth on her, too. Or, have you forgotten?” He teases, bending his knees slightly to level his eyes with yours, intruding into your space. The smirk he dons is cheeky, too friendly–too inviting. You want to smack it off of him.

“Oh, shut u–” the sound of your phone chiming interrupts your banter. It’s a message from Kazuki, and you open it while Satoru stands over you. Probably close enough to read the message on his own if he wanted.

Kazuki: Hey, I hate to do this but I don’t think I can go through with tonight.

When you read the message, your heart drops into your stomach. There goes the other shoe, you think, fully embracing your pessimism. Who were you kidding, really? To think that tonight you’d go out and have a good time. Do something for yourself. It was stupidity.

Chat bubbles pop up on the screen. He has more to say.

He has more to say, and you’re fighting the urge to cry–to not shake out of sheer frustration while you’re still standing in front of Satoru. Because nothing would be worse than him seeing you can’t even land a date.

Kazuki: I recently just went through a divorce, and I know that I should have informed you about this before continuing our conversations…Especially since you’ve been so transparent with me about your own divorce and strife.

Kazuki: But if I’m being completely honest, I was scared. I genuinely wanted to see this through, at first. I wanted to forget about my ex-wife for just one night. But I realized I’ve been asking the impossible of myself…I’m still in love with her, and it’s because I’m in love with her that I won’t allow myself to lead you on any further.

Kazuki: I think we would’ve had a good time tonight. It's unfortunate we had to meet under such circumstances because you’re a really lovely woman, and I’m sorry an asshole is standing you up right now.

Kazuki: Take care. I know there’s a guy out there just waiting for his shot.

Satoru takes notice of the way your face drops as you read over the messages. Part of him wants to overstep his boundaries and take a peek at the screen. But he doesn’t. He gives you your space and takes a seat on the couch, waits for you to say something first.

In the meantime, he studies your face. Watches intently as your eyes become glossy the more you scan the messages, watches as your bottom lip catches between your teeth to hold back from crying. He thinks he knows what just happened.

Taking a deep breath, you lock your phone and put on another trained smile, “Well, looks like I’m staying in tonight.” Satoru dislikes when you do that. When you put on a fake smile and overcompensate to make others around you feel better, even when it’s so very obvious you aren’t. He wishes that sometimes you would just be selfish–act out.

And then you continue the façade. It makes his skin itch.

“I was too tired anyway, guess I can just catch up o–”

“Will you stop,” he spits, rising from his seat on the couch to stand. It comes out harsher than he intended, but he doesn’t regret it. You look at him like he’s got two heads as he walks over to the mantle and leans against it. His back is turned towards you, and the palms of his hands hold the crest of it. He uses it as leverage to rock on the heels of his feet. You can tell there’s something he wants to say because of the way his jaw ticks.

Satoru is never one to bite his tongue, so you’re not exactly sure why he’s choosing to be so restrained. If he wasn’t going to spit it out, you were going to poke. “What’s your problem?”

He chuckles at this, rubs his chin then pushes off the mantle to stand in front of you, gets all in your space again. The movement almost sends you back but you hold your ground, tilt your chin up at him and repeat the question. Slowly, this time with more venom.

“My problem? What’s your problem?” He breathes through his nose, his eyes flickering back-and-forth between your own. “Why do you always pretend like you’re not lonely? It’s okay if you were looking forward to having fun tonight. It’s okay to be upset and be mad at the asshole who stood you up!”

With every verbal prod at you, the gap between you decreases. His feet inch closer and closer to your own and force you to retreat farther until your back hits the wall. The coldness of it causes your breath to hitch, and you try to stay calm as Satoru encroaches more into your personal space. Being on the receiving end of his passion was always suffocating, you feel exposed under the intensity of his gaze–even more so as he continues to tear into you.

“Why do you even care?!” you cut him off, eyes wide and veins pumping full of adrenaline. “It’s not your place to be so invested in my life anymore! We’re not together, you don’t have to get so hot and bothered about things going shitty for me. I’m a big girl, and I’m perfectly capable of fighting my own battles.”

By the time you finish, you’re a heaving, shaking mess. He takes this as a sign to withdraw from your space, and goes to sit back down on the couch. When you finally settle your nerves, you join him, leaving a foot of space in between you. There’s an awkward silence, one that wouldn’t have even happened if he just respected your boundaries in the first place. Now he feels like the asshole instead of the actual asshole who dumped you. Taking a hesitant breath, he decides to speak up.

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t…It wasn’t my intention to come off so strong like that,” he begins, “I just wanted to let you know that you don’t always have to pretend to be fine. It’s not fair, you shouldn’t do that to yourself.” His eyes wander over to you reluctantly, like he’s scared that if he looks too long you’ll disengage from the conversation.

“It’s okay,” your voice is small, just above a whisper. You want to face him, but you know that if you do, you'll break into a million pieces. So you keep your gaze downward, busy yourself with the stray pieces of thread on the bottom of your dress. “You’re right, you know. I think I just…I think I just tell myself to expect disappointment so that when something bad happens, I’ll know it’s not because I got my hopes up.”

Satoru turns to you, and you can see him frown through your peripheral. Still, you don’t face him because you’re not done talking. But you thank him silently for listening without interrupting.

“Even though you’re right, I don’t appreciate the way you came on so strongly. We’re not married anymore, we’re not a couple–we’re co-parents. So if there’s something I want you to know about that’s outside of the scope of our kids, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, leave it alone.”

Satoru’s face softens. For once you’re being selfish, putting your foot down. This is the side of you he likes. “Okay. I respect that,” he says, “But can I ask you something?” The smile on his face is mirthful, like he’s got something else up his sleeves this evening. Skeptical, you finally face him with a raised brow.

“What?”

“Let me take you to dinner.”

You laugh in his face, even go as far as smacking his arm because you want him to know you found the joke really funny. He doesn’t budge, and that’s when you realize he’s being serious.

“Wait, what?”

“Let’s go to dinner,” he stands up, crossing his arms across his chest. You tilt your head in disbelief. You’re just waiting for someone to tell you you’re on that old reality show punk’d.

“Funny, I just poured my heart out to you and now you’re making fun of me,” you roll your eyes, feigning annoyance.

“I’m being serious,” he reassures, “you’re already dressed up. It’d be a shame for it to go to waste.” His eyes are twinkling with hope, and once again, you find yourself falling victim to their persuasiveness.

Being under Gojo Satoru’s gaze was suffocating.

Giving in, you ask, “So what are you gonna do? Drive all the way home to get dressed?”

The question is genuine, but the bastard just grins. “I’m a little hurt,” he throws a hand over his heart, “don’t you know me by now? I’m a businessman. I keep pressed blazers and slacks on me at all times.”

He swings his keys around his index finger, hoping that the promise of a spare change of clothes being in his car is enough to convince you to say yes.

“I don’t know…” you trail.

“C’mon, let me take you out. I promise you won’t regret it.”

Somehow he was able to persuade you into going out. After he changed into his spare clothes, you ended up telling your girls that there was gonna be a change of plans, and that they’d go home with their dad tomorrow.

Of course, before leaving, you made sure to leave some money on the table for pizza, and you also made sure to drill into their heads not to open the door for anyone except the delivery guy. You knew they knew the drill already, but it didn’t feel right to leave without saying it anyway.

“Be good, listen to your sister, she’s in charge,” you pinch Haruki’s cheek. Hana smirks, nodding her head in agreement with you.

“I will mom, I know,” she huffs, crossing her arms.

“And you,” your finger wags at Hana, her smirk drops. “Don’t provoke your sister, be nice. Act like you love each other, please.”

“Fine, whatever. I guess,” she grabs the knob to the door, ready to kick the both of you out already. “So does this mean the two of you are back together, or?”

Satoru and you turn to each other before answering in unison, “No.”

“Okay, cool. Well, have fun,” she practically closes the door on the two of you, locking it after. Satoru is just as dumbfounded as you are, but then you break into a fit of laughter.

“Those kids, man.”

“Your kids!” you correct, pushing him playfully as the both of you walk down the pebbled pathway. He finds his equilibrium in time to unlock the car and open your side of the door. You pause before ducking inside.

“Oh, how gentlemanly of you,” you jest, “And they say chivalry is dead.”

“How could it be when I’m alive?” He says matter-of-factly, closing your side of the door. He taps the top of the car before sliding across the hood to the other side. Nice to see some things never changed.

When he gets inside and turns on the car, he puts his hand on the back of your seat to back out. The proximity sends a shiver down your spine, and you have to physically refrain from letting your eyes linger on his jaw, and his arms, and the face he makes when he’s trying to concentrate.

You try to dispel these less-than-friendly thoughts by looking somewhere, anywhere else but him. But you can’t, and it’s irritating.

This is the second time tonight you’ve been this close, and it’s only this time that you realize something about him is…different. Earlier, he didn’t really smell like anything, but you quickly notice his smell has changed.

There’s a sort of piney scent coming from him. It’s not strong or obnoxious enough to blind your nostrils, but it’s enough for you to just barely pick up on it. You almost think it was premeditated, that he took the liberty of spritzing some on before walking you to the car. Before you separated, he’d made it a habit to wear variations of woody scents for you. If you can recall correctly, a passing comment you made about the cologne he was wearing that day is what sparked the habit.

Surely, this couldn’t be coincidental?

“You smell nice,” you blurt, filling in the silence.

Satoru glances at you, “Thank you.” You hate that from the corner of your eye, you can see his stupid little smirk growing bigger by the minute. He already had a big ego, it didn’t need to be stroked any more.

“Don’t let it go to your head, though. You usually smell pretty rank.”

“Ohhh, is that so? Guess I gotta start wearing this more often then, huh?”

“Sure, do what you want,” you say, trying to remain indifferent even though you’re failing terribly to hide your smile. When the car approaches a red light, you finally decide to ask the big question. “So where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see,” he glances over, “Just know I’m good friends with the owner, so last minute reservations weren't a problem.”

The rest of the car ride is silent, save for the low hum of the music playing on the radio. When you arrive at the location, Satoru makes sure to walk all the way around to your side of the door again and open it. Immediately after, the two of you are greeted by a young male. He’s wearing a white button down, black slacks, and a black vest with a red tie. Judging by his appearance, you assume he’s a valet driver.

Satoru drops his keys in the driver’s hands, and escorts you towards the entrance. The boy bows and goes to park the car. Looking around, you start to wonder where exactly this place is supposed to be. The area is dark and secluded, and from where you stand outside, it doesn’t sound like there’s supposed to be a restaurant here. You don’t hear any voices, you don’t even see any security or other passerbyers.

Still, you follow behind him like a duckling, only coming to a halt when he leads you to a door taller than the both of you. He gestures for you to back up, then raises his knuckles to blow a strong, single knock. You’re taken by surprise when a set of angry eyes appear behind a slot in the door.

The pair of eyes first scan over you, then Satoru. A gruff voice is second to accompany them, “Where can I get a good drink?”

“I heard the bar down the street is nice,” Satoru answers. The hatch to the door closes, then swings open the door, and the man behind it moves aside to welcome you in.

“Follow me, please.” Once he closes the door, he begins guiding you down the dimly lit hallway. After making what seems like your hundredth turn, you eventually reach a staircase. The man gestures for you to go on ahead, and you think this is him implying where the three of you will depart.

“Thank you,” you say softly, disappearing down the stairs. Satoru isn’t too far behind, keeping a pace between you. As you near the end of the long, narrow hallway, a stream of white light brightens up your whole path. It leads you down to another door like a beacon of light, and when you reach it, you can hear voices, live music, and dishes clanking on the other side. It’s bustling with life. A huge, joyous smile plasters across your face. It’s almost child-like in appearance, like you haven’t seen something this cool in a long time.

Satoru stands beside you and winks. “What d’ya think? Any idea yet where we are?”

“I think this is fucking cool, and hm,” you take a second to mull it over, “are we at a speakeasy?”

“Smart girl. Now come on.” Stepping back, you allow him to pull open the door, and when he does, there isn’t a word to describe the atmosphere of the place you step into. All you can do is stand there in astonishment. Before long, a man walks up to you.

“Welcome, what is the name you reserved under?”

“Gojo.”

Nodding, the host instructs you to follow after him. He leads you to a private seating area, somewhere far in the back that’s secluded from the other patrons. The space is much bigger, and much more extravagant. You know you’re only sitting way back here because Satoru is who he is. And in all the years you’ve known him, his connections were just another party trick in his arsenal.

The hostess seats you, then Satoru, and tells you that a waiter will be with you shortly.

“This is nice, really nice, but is it–”

“Legal?” he finishes your sentence, “don’t worry. It’s a modern speakeasy-style restaurant. There’s nothing illegal going on here, promise.”

While you wait for your designated waiter, your focus shifts from the man in front of you to the man singing on the stage. Up until now, his voice was white noise in the background, but then he started singing a tune scarily reminiscent of your past–and your breath catches in your throat.

If I ever leave you, baby

You can say I told you so

And if I ever hurt you

You know, I hurt myself…

Turning your gaze back to Satoru, you squint your eyes mirthfully in disbelief. You wonder if this is just a funny coincidence, if this is the universe playing her tricks, but you know deep down, that coincidences and Gojo Satoru don’t belong in the same sentence.

You open your mouth to speak, but quickly close it when you see the waiter approaching from the corner of your eye. He greets the both of you with a polite smile, then sets down two glasses of water.

“Good evening, I’ll be your waiter for the night,” he says, placing a menu in front of you, “Can I get you fine folks started off with a bottle of wine?”

Satoru nods, tells him to bring the best bottle of red they have and then gestures for him to come closer so that he can whisper something in his ear. All the while, you sit back in your seat observing, clicking your nails on the table until the server pulls back and bows.

When he departs, you immediately lean in over the table, and ask, “Just how much time did you have to plan all of this?”

Satoru feigns aloofness, taking a sip of his water, “What do you mean?”

You roll your eyes, gesturing at the stage with your eyes. Then, as if suddenly coming to a realization, he goes, “Oh, that? Yeah, I had nothing to do with that. But isn’t it funny they’re playing our old song?”

Now he’s smirking, with his elbow leaning back on the chair, and a gaze so piercing, you’re certain you’ll crumble into nothing unless you look away. So you do, avert your gaze back to the stage and sway calmly.

Is that any way for a man to carry on

Do you think I want my loved one gone

Said I love you

More than you’ll ever know

“So funny,” you counter.

Eventually, the server comes back with a bottle. “1982 Chateau Latife Rothschild,” he holds it out to present, “Is this alright?”

Despite the years spent with Satoru, and the many elitist events you often attended with him, your knowledge on wine had never surpassed anything but surface level. You knew the difference between good wine and cheap wine was the taste, but your taste buds had grown accustomed to store-bought, so if anything, store-bought tasted like heaven to you. Anyway, though, you nod your head and urge him to pour a glass.

“Thank you,” you smile, before gently swirling the glass and bringing it up to your nose to smell (something you only know to do after being the odd man out at so many company banquets). Satoru waits for you to sip your glass before he sips his. The way you melt into your seat is a silent assurance that you’re pleased.

“This is great, you’re amazing,” you tell the server, who seems pleased by your compliment.

“Glad to be of service, miss. Are you ready to order?”

Dinner goes by smoothly. In fact, it goes by so smoothly, you and Satoru finish the entire bottle of wine. Now you sit at the table, bellies full, faces flushed and sore from laughing, and now you find yourself telling him about the grocery store incident. If you had half a mind (a sober one), you’d shut up right this second to save yourself from the embarrassment. But you don’t. And Satoru’s very persuasive when you’re tipsy.

“Keep going,” he leans in, hand nestled under his chin. He’s completely invested in the story. Actually, as soon as he heard the words ‘store’ and ‘cute guy’, he just had to know more. And you begging him to change the subject didn’t help, not when the sadist in him loved to see you so embarrassed.

“Fine,” you hiccup, “It was so - so bad, Toru.” He doesn’t miss the way you slip and call him by the nickname you’d always reserved for him. It makes his heart race, and god, does he miss the way it sounds spilling from your lips. But he ignores the feeling, and refocuses on your story instead. Which, by the way, was proving to be a task in itself because his eyes couldn’t stop drifting back down to your lips. So soft, so–

“And then she said ‘we don’t believe in rings,’” you whisper, fist coming down on the table. The sound it makes nearly sobers you up, and you realize just how loud you’re being despite your table being secluded from others. Giggling like a kid, you continue, “I mean, how fucking insane is that?!”

“Something as bizarre as that could only ever happen to you,” he replies, laughing along with you, “those people were crazy.”

“The craziest,” you agree, throwing your head back in another fit of laughter. Gradually, the two of you begin to settle down, and once again, you find your attention being drawn back to the man on the stage. Only this time, he’s making an announcement.

“Good evening ladies and gentleman. Tonight I’ve got a special request,” he says, looking out into the audience. Looking at you. “This one’s for a very special lady who, from what I’ve been told, is a great mother that needs to start doing things for herself.”

The singer steps out of the spotlight and hands the note to a server. Your server. Then he begins to sing, and your heart drops into the pit of your stomach. It was your wedding song.

[...] I don’t even know how to love you

Just the way you want me to

But I’m ready (ready) to learn (to learn)

Yes, I’m ready (ready) to learn (to learn)

“Now this one? This one was me,” Satoru leans forward, and you swiftly turn your head to face him. He smiles as he watches your face go through ten different emotions before ultimately softening. It warms your heart to see how incredibly planned this evening was, despite the amount of time he was given to work with. Even so, it kind of scares you–because then that meant this was a grand gesture–that this was his way of saying something. And you weren’t too sure if you wanted to hear it. Your gaze drops to your lap, and Satoru frowns.

To fall in love

To fall in love with you…

“Look at me,” he says softly, but you don’t. “Hey, look at me.” He reaches over the table to take your chin in between his fingers. The touch alone feels electric. Sends liquid hot lightning down the column of your spine. Reluctantly, you meet his gaze, and like always, it’s suffocating. They’re so wide with hope, and so, so gentle in the way they hold you. The longer you gaze upon them, the more you convince yourself it’ll be okay if you surrender to them.

“It’s been years since we’ve divorced,” his voice is shaky, almost strained, like he’s actively thinking how to choose his words carefully, “and when we sat down that night, I thought it was what I wanted, too, you know? And for a while, it was,” he reaches a hand across the table to rest atop your own, “but you gotta know…you gotta know–you’re it for me. There’s no one else on this Earth that I want to start over with. You’ve always been the beginning and end of my story, and I’ll be damned if I let another man start one with you.”

Your heart is beating faster than you can even process what he’s saying. The only thing you’re focused on is not passing out in the middle of this damn restaurant. But then he’s squeezing your hand, and your focus is drawn back to those piercing, pale blues that even put crystals to shame.

“So what do you say?” he says, so softly, so tender. “Can we try again?”

Waiting for your reply, he squeezes your hand again. It’s like your soul is wandering the line between death and the living, and his touch is the tether that brings you back. In the background, the tune of the song sung at your wedding gives you a push of courage.

I don’t even know how to kiss your lips (kiss your lips)

At a moment like this

But I’m going to learn how to do

All the things you want me to

Yes, I’m ready

(Are you ready?) Yes, I’m ready

To fall in love

To fall in love right now

“Yes.”

The walk back to the car is hurried. Aided by both, years and years of built up tension, and the liquid courage currently bubbling in your systems.

The race back to his apartment is even faster. You thank the gods silently that it’s within close proximity to where you just were.

Once you get there, make your way past the doorman and concierge (who both give the two of you a knowing look), go up the elevator, and finally get into his loft–it’s over. Years of restraint, years of pretending, wanting–yearning, come crashing down.

There’s barely any time to close the door before he’s pushing you against it. His lips trail down the column of your neck, then come up to kiss your jaw, until eventually, they find your lips. And when they do, it’s instantaneous–that familiar feeling, the feeling that feels almost like falling.

Once again, for what felt like centuries, you feel again the rush of helplessness. The push and pull of the tide. It brings you down, down, down to the bottom of the ocean floor, and it’s unmerciful.

Kissing Satoru is like being shocked with ten thousand volts of energy. Like all this time you’ve spent not kissing him, has been costing you your life, and he’s the only one who can deliver you salvation. It’s all teeth and tongue for a minute. Messy, and sticky, and nasty. A true testament to the desperation brewing in the pits of both your stomachs.

The sensation of it all has your knees going slack, and that’s when he says–

“Jump.”

Obeying, you do just that. Jump right into his arms, and wrap your legs around his torso like you’ve done so many times before. The way you feel now is the way you used to feel before then, too. Like you were made to fit like this. To be held in his arms like you were molded from the same clay.

Carefully, he adjusts his grip on your body. Keeps his palms planted on the bottoms of your ass, and begins the trek to his room. He struggles a bit getting there because you haven’t stopped kissing since entering the apartment, but he figures it out after a stumble or two (which resulted in a bitten lip and you apologizing profusely through giggles).

“The turbulence up here is crazy, don’t blame me, blame the pilot,” you jest, kissing down his neck to make up for it.

“I’ll make sure to let him know,” he jokes back. As soon as he gets to the bed, he sets you down at the edge of the bed. You try to bring him down to your height but he stops you, wags his finger in your face playfully before using it to push you back into the bed. His fingers start to play with the fabric of your dress, and then his face takes on an indifferent expression. The same one from earlier that night when he first saw you walking down the stairs.

“Can’t believe you were gonna wear this for him…” he trails, lifting the fabric up slowly, eyeing you while doing so, “as if this dress doesn’t mean something.”

Of course, when Shoko chose it, its significance did make you falter–but in your defense, not once did you ever anticipate for him to see you in it. And you especially didn’t expect for him to remember it, the last time you wore it was almost a decade ago.

“I didn’t…” you start, a smile creeping on your lips, “think you remembered?”

“‘Course I did, how could I not?” He says more sharply than intended, taking offense. He takes offense because he spent the better half of the night showing you he remembered. The little things and everything else in between. Couldn’t you see that?

“It was our 4th anniversary. Bought you this dress and fucked you in it that same night. Funny how the second time I’m seeing you in this dress, the circumstances are the same except only this time we’re divorced,” he says, crawling over your body. “Guess I gotta show you just how much I remember.”

With that, he slips a hand under your dress, pulls your panties to the side and runs a finger down your slit. Oh-so-willingly, do you spread your legs for him. It’s almost subconscious, the way your body responds to him. And he revels in it. Lets his fingers work you, feel you, bring you to ecstasy. Then he heightens your pleasure tenfold when he kisses his way down your body, and takes a seat before you on his knees.

Unceremoniously, he pulls your body to the edge of the bed. Takes his time slipping your panties down the length of your legs, then kisses the insides of your thighs, before finally stopping at your mound.

Slowly, he lowers himself to your cunt, kisses your clit softly. Once, twice, three times. The pace in which he’s moving is killing you, to say the least. But you know he’s savoring the moment, making up for all the years he spent not kneeling like this between your legs. So you let him; let him caress you all over before he comes seeking the honey-sweet salvation dripping from your core.

The second his tongue makes contact with your heat, you find yourself clamping a heavy hand over your mouth. “Fuck, Toruuuu,” you drawl, back arching off the bed. Pleased with his abilities, he smiles smugly, using this as an opportunity to push himself even deeper. Up and down, he licks at your slit, uses his fingers in tandem with his tongue to prod at that spongy spot he knows you love.

“Tastes,” a harsh suck, “so good,” another, “better than I remember.”

You know he’s talking, but his words fall on deaf ears. You’re so caught up in your own high, you don’t even take notice of the obscene sloshing sounds coming from your pussy, or the moans you’re making. All you can do is lay there and take it as he takes, and takes, and takes from you.

Soon, you find your orgasm cutting through you like a knife, and you come with a strangled cry that has you biting back tears. Satoru talks you through the whole thing. He lays his head down on your thigh and continues working you with his fingers until you start to shake from the overstimulation.

For a few, you lay and stare at the ceiling. You think you can see the Milky Way–and all the constellations that make it up. It feels like your soul is floating beyond your physical body, and you don’t come back down to Earth until a sharp, stinging sensation brings you back. Did he just?

“Did you just bite me?” you lift your head, peering down to see the evidence. In all its glory, there it was; a red ring smack-dab in the inside of your thigh with teeth imprints. Looking at Satoru, he grins.

“Had to get you back from earlier,” he says, sitting back on his knees. You attempt to kick him with your foot, but he grabs hold of it. Pretending to be wounded, he gasps, “Is this how you treat the man who just gave you a soul-shattering orgasm?”

You roll your eyes, but to your dismay, it only encourages him to continue.

“Fuck, Toru,” he mimics, “oh my god, Toru. You fuck me so goo–”

“Alright, enough!” you manage to kick him this time, laughing as you bring up your hands to cover your face. “Keep carrying on like that and I won’t let you fuck me…” You’re serious in your bite, but he’s smirking. Like he knows you’re full of bullshit.

“Yeah right. You and I both know I make you feel too good.”

Feeling bested, you scoff, though, there’s no real weight behind it. While he begins to remove his shirt, you sit up and replace his hands. He relinquishes control and allows you to unbutton it until the item falls haphazardly to the floor.

He’s so beautiful, you think. Still so chiseled, so perfect after all these years since you’ve last seen him like this. At his most vulnerable. The only difference now is that there are more freckles littered across his skin. Back then, he’d say they were signs of aging, and he’d hate them.

But he’s older now. More mature. So much so that he even winks at you when you trace your fingertips over them.

“They suit you,” you whisper.

“Yeah?”

You nod your head, “mhm.”

Continuing your ministrations, you begin removing his belt. He holds your gaze the entire time it takes for you to unzip his pants and pull them down–and he doesn’t once shy away when you discover the wet spot on the front of his briefs. Slowly, delicately, you remove the soiled item and let it fall down to the floor with the rest of his clothes.

Still looking at him, you take hold of his length and fist him once, twice, experimentally. A dribble of pre oozes from his slit and you bring it to your mouth. All the air in his lungs expel into the air when you lick it off with your tongue, and god, he thinks he could come from that alone.

God, he’s missed you. Missed your touch, your lips–the way you hold him with your eyes like he’s something worth being gentle with. Nothing could ever compare to you, not even his own hand.

As soon as you’re about to take him in your mouth, he stops you. Pushes you back down onto the bed and slots himself between your legs. “No more playing, I’m tired of playing,” he breathes, lowering himself down until half of his weight is on top of you.

Guiding his cock to your entrance, he pushes past your folds with little resistance. The feeling of your cunt squeezing him in has his arms wobbling like jelly, but he musters enough strength somehow to stay up. You, on the other hand, are close to tears.

The more he eases himself in, the more you feel like you’re being stretched open (despite him previously prepping you). If you were being truthful, this wasn’t a complete shock to you. You’ve known that he’s always been big, but something about tonight feels different. Or maybe it’s just been too long since you’ve had something more than just your own fingers.

Even so, you try your best to ignore the burn of the stretch. You throw your arms around his neck and invite him deeper into you, hooking your legs around him so tightly that it renders his limbs useless. For a minute, all you can feel is the weight of him inside of you, and his chest against yours as they rise and fall asynchronously.

“Toru,” your voice is just barely above a whisper, but enough to make the hairs on the nape of his neck stand. “Make love to me.”

Heeding your request, he begins moving. Painfully slow, he unsheathes himself from you until only the head of his cock is inside, then pushes himself all the way back in with force. Again, and again, he repeats this motion. Pulls out, pushes in. Pulls out, pushes in, until he decides to increase his pace and set a steady rhythm.

Every thrust into you is meticulously calculated. Sharp, and forceful, and not once does he disrupt the rhythm. He listens carefully to the sounds you make. Even listens to the way your breath hitches when he hits a spot right. Everything he’s doing is perfect–and it’s to no surprise. Deep down, you know that Satoru knows your body like the back of his hand. He’d know it if you were all old and wrinkly. He’d know it if his soul reincarnated. Hell, he’d know it blind.

“Missed this,” he grunts, burying his head into the interstice of your neck, “missed you,” a kiss to your neck, “missed us.”

The veracity of his words render you speechless. He’s already professed his feelings for you tonight, but it feels even more real now that you’re beneath him. To be loved by Gojo Satoru was a feeling many couldn’t say they had the consolation of knowing. Only a few in his circle could hold that position–but only one person in this world could truly ever know his love to its fullest extent. You.

Satoru continues his mindless rambling, “I love you,” a thrust, “it’s always been you,” another, “was always going to be you.” Leaning back on his heels, he pushes your dress all the way up to reveal your breasts. Now it’s him who sits back and admires this time. As if he were reacquainting himself, he traces the planes and pastures of your chest with an eager hand. He runs it up and over each mound, squeezing and kneading the flesh experimentally.

Then, he dips down and kisses the space between them. Sucks and licks until the skin bruises, and he has evidence to prove tonight actually happened. Eventually, he withdraws from your chest and returns his focus on easing his cock in and out of your cunt.

“So beautiful,” he says, but it’s more to himself than anything. You’re so lost in your own pleasure, he doesn’t even think you can hear him. “Want you to cum on my cock, know you can do it, baby. Know you can,” he grunts, taking your hand and intertwining it with his own. Letting his head fall into your neck, he begins to quicken his pace. Fucks into you with everything he’s got and willing to give.

“Toru,” you finally manage to say, “‘m so close, keep going. Do it - do it inside.”

Do it inside. Do it inside. Do it inside. The thought is tempting, too tempting. It makes his dick twitch inside of you, and he swears if you say it again, he’ll actually do it. But he knows better than to listen to anything you say out of delirium.

“Trust me, sweet girl,” he cradles your face, to which you lean into, “I want to - I want to so fucking badly. But we both know you’d regret it later.”

Whining, your lips form into a pout, and the sight is so cute, he can’t help but to kiss it off of you. Compared to your kiss earlier, this one is much sweeter. Slower. More relaxed. He kisses you with the intent of making you dizzier than you already are, and it’s scary. Even so, you don’t pull away. You allow him to drink you up. Like your lips are the only source of water around, and he’s been quenched for days.

Finally, with a few more thrusts, you reach your climax. The pressure building in the pit of your belly pops like a balloon, and everything goes white. “Toru!” you shriek, arching off the bed and trembling in his grasp.

Using your arch as leverage, he keeps his hands underneath your back and continues to ram into you without abandon. You’re a babbling, wet mess at this point, and your cunt squeezing around him only encourages him more.

“Fuckfuckfuck, ‘m gonna - ‘m gonna,” he curses, balls beginning to tighten. Quickly, he unsheathes himself and fists himself the rest of the way. With an impassioned moan, he climaxes–spurting thick, white, ropes of seed all over your abdomen. Then, falls onto your limp body with a grunt, chest heaving rapidly, and slick with perspiration.

By this time, you’ve settled down enough to form a proper sentence. “That was…”

Satoru huffs, catching his breath. “Yeah.”

Still spent, he continues to lay atop you. And you, having nowhere else to go, let him. The two of you lay comfortably in silence like this for a long time. Just you tracing shapes into his back, and him purring into your neck. Both of you know you should be getting up, but neither of you make an effort to do so. In this moment, time is transcendent. There is no rush to move when time stands still for you.

Soon, that silence is broken.

“I love you,” you say, and there’s no elaboration. Not even a recant. In fact, you say it so nonchalantly, he’s not even sure it was real. You say it like you’ve never been more certain in your life, like it’s the easiest thing you’ve ever had to do.

“Really?” he queries, almost pathetically like the mere idea of you loving him is something unattainable. You look at him like he’s got two heads.

“Yeah, you’re my best friend. I’ve always loved you,” you admit, pausing your ministrations on his back, “I just had to relearn how to love you.” He smiles at this, hums into your neck to keep from crying.

“I’m glad we found our way back to each other,” he mumbles into your neck, “so where do we go from here?”

“From here we take it slow. We’ll learn together what it means to be individuals, and then from there we’ll see where it goes,” you say matter-of-factly, “no more repeating past mistakes.”

“Agreed,” he nods, “what will we tell the girls?”

That’s when your eyes widen and you sit up, forcefully pushing Satoru off of you.

“What did I say, what’s wrong?” he queries, sitting up on the bed. He watches you rummage around the room maniacally, head on a swivel as you run out of the room and return with a purse. You pull your phone out to see a slew of missed calls and messages.

“We forgot to call the girls!” You yell, showing him your phone screen of missed calls. Gojo jumps up to join you, one leg already sliding into his pants.

“Shit!”

Noticing the state of your appearance, you pinch the skin between your brows. “Satoru, I can’t wear this! You got cum all over it,” you groan, pointing to all the splotches of white. He tells you to wait a second before disappearing into his closet, then he comes back with a fist of clothes and throws it at you.

“I can’t wear this either, they’ll wonder why I’m wearing your clothes!”

Satoru runs to you and pull the dress off of your body, “We’ll wash it!” he screams, disappearing again out of the room, and to where you imagine, the laundry room. When he returns, he’s out of breath and panting. It’s only then do you realize how insane he looks with half his shirt buttoned, and his pants twisted around his hips. A giggle escapes your lips.

“What are you laughing at? Chop chop,” he claps, ushering you into his bathroom.

Yeah, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss this idiot.

comments + reblogs very appreciated !!!

#art by: @yamada_souko (twt)#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader smut #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x y/n #satoru gojo x y/n #jjk smut

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dreamerimpossible · 4 months ago

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Slasher Reaction When You're Not Interested In Sex

Warnings: +18 content, manipulation, obsession, unhealthy relationships, dark content, there is a hint of non-con in Art the Clown and Alex DeLarge (are you surprised?), angst, mentions of infidelity in some.

Characters: Michael Myers, Chucky, Billy Loomis, Stu Macher, Patrick Bateman, Hannibal Lecter, Vincent Sinclair, Jason Voorhees, Leatherface, Art The Clown, Jason Dean, Alex DeLarge, Kurt Kunkle, Brahms.

Michael Myers

Does he really care about that stuff? I feel like you'd have to actively provoke him to get him interested in having sex with you. If you don't bring out that side of him, he won't care. Seriously, he doesn't care. It's quite likely that he won't even care whether or not you want to have sex. He'd rather have you have a bad side that you can't control, something that makes you more like him than anyone else. He'll enjoy that badness and chaos. Sex takes a backseat.

Chucky (Human Version)

I honestly don't think it would work. However, if he really wants to keep you for himself, you'll have to agree to let him have sex with other people. In that case, I think it would work. He'll try to convince you anyway, but he won't force you if you say no. But you'll probably fight, because he'll think it's personal and that you have something against him, and then you'll have an argument that escalates and you'll end your relationship in the worst way. After that they'll get back together and then break up again. And so on. Although, if we're being honest, that scenario is going to happen either way (Chucky is toxic).

Billy Loomis

Okay, he will. But he'll be very manipulative; he'll push you all the time about it, and it'll be much worse if you know he's Ghostface since he might threaten you, and his manipulations will be much worse than if he was pretending to be a good boyfriend. I think you'd eventually agree, but he'll get used to you giving it to him, and it'll be much worse when you say no. I think he wouldn't force you physically, but he'll pretty much use psychological manipulation to get you to do what he wants from you, which is still forcing.

Stu Macher

If you're just another low-level conquest, he'll cheat on you or leave you for someone else. If you're someone special, he'll stick with you even though he gets frustrated. He could be very loyal if you push his weaknesses correctly without Billy finding out. He will insist that you have sex with him in a silly way, acting innocent and playful, but you will be able to see his disappointed and upset face when you say no. However, if you play your cards right, I think he might continue with you without cheating on you; but you have to manipulate him, which will make your relationship even more toxic, but at this point…who cares?

Patrick Bateman

Tough scenario for you. If he thinks you are a person worthy of him, but you just happen not to want to have sex as often as he does, he will overlook that little flaw of yours. However, that doesn't mean it will be good. He wants you to admire him, to be the center of his life, to moan his name loud enough for everyone to hear. If he doesn't feel that way in the sexual realm as well, he will end up cheating on you with other people, but he will keep you by his side selfishly.

Hannibal Lecter

He doesn't care. Just give him control over you in all the other areas of your life. Give him the pleasure of watching you break down to the point of questioning your own morals and life choices. Make him play with your mind and show him your reactions. Tell him everything that happens to you so he can see if he can use it in some way. Give him a challenge and keep him entertained with your conversations. Provide him with a context that leaves him in euphoria and maximum exaltation. If you can do that…who needs sex?

Vincent Sinclair

He will be slightly disappointed, but he will respect you. He will not treat you differently or anything like that. He will not cheat on you or betray you in any way either. He will be very frustrated if Bo finds out and starts bothering him, but it is nothing he cannot handle. Other than that, I don't see any other problems. He cares more about your loyalty and that you follow the orders imposed on you. That's all.

Jason Voorhees

The best scenario for him. It will be much better if you do not want to have sex ever. He likes not having to fight those instincts that disturb him greatly. It's not even going to be brought up; just tell him you're not interested, and the subject will be forgotten as if it never even existed. This doesn't change your relationship at all. In fact, I think it will be better, because for Jason you won't be an unwanted temptation for him, so he won't have two opposing thoughts about you to deal with.

Leatherface

It's okay; he'll understand. He won't force you or anything like that. He won't treat you differently either. I don't think he cares about those things, if I'm honest. He's more focused on his family and loyalty. And that includes you too. He asks that you get along with his family and be okay with what they do. That you don't have a problem, basically.

Art the Clown

He doesn't care in the conventional way. But if he finds out that the subject is sensitive for you, he will use it against you. So it's best not to let it show or say anything to him, because this man is a fucking madman who enjoys other people's pain (you know that). If you don't say it, the subject will go unnoticed for a long time. If Art ever feels sexual desire towards you and wants to have sex with you, he will simply take you and use you. Seriously, he won't ask questions. He sees you as his toy.

Jason Dean

For him not to care, you would have to be crazy like him. In that case, he will overlook it, because he will believe that something as crude as sex does not have to hinder a love as perfect as yours. I think that at first he will feel personally offended by your refusal; he will try to explain to you that he feels rejected. If you explain it sincerely, he will understand and will not insist further. But he will use it against you in arguments to get you to give him more attention and spend more time with him, claiming that he does a lot of things for you.

Alex DeLarge

Uh… no. He wouldn't take you seriously if you didn't want to have sex as much as he does. He likes sex quite a bit; he's not going to give that up. I think he might keep you around if you like ultraviolence and enjoy it as much as he does. I don't think he'll leave behind a person to help him and follow his orders. But you two can't be a couple; it just wouldn't work. He'll actively try to provoke you into falling for it. In your case, it would be much more fun if you gave it to him consensually, because that would mean he has complete control over you and can make you do things he wants of your own free will. However, if he doesn't want you around him because he's not interested in you in any way other than sexually… then things get darker. We already know his tendencies.

Kurt Kunkle

If he doesn't feel rejected, he doesn't care. If he feels rejected, the relationship will be more toxic. He is manipulative and obsessive. He wants you to admire and love him; if he feels that you dislike him sexually, he will not force you, but he will be excessively controlling, and you will argue a lot. He uses it to victimize himself. There will come a point where he becomes a nuisance to you. On the other hand, if he does not feel rejected, that is fine; he will be toxic in other aspects of the relationship.

Brahms

He will take it personally, no matter what you tell him. He will manipulate you, and it will be emotionally draining for you. You will probably agree on several occasions to get him to shut up, or you will end up manipulating him with sex to obey you. He will obey you every time if you offer him sex. He would like to resist, but he is too hungry for contact and needs to feel the sensation.

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meanbossart · 18 days ago

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ASK COMPILATION: Pregnancy back-seater, WOTC-brand poppers and humanoid feet.

It's been a while since I last took a good dive into my inbox!

Thank you so much to everyone who takes the time to message in, whether it be questions, prompts, or words of support and encouragement! I unfortunately cannot get to everybody, but I do my best while trying not to be spammy with the reply posts 😅

I actually have plans to do just that and an ANCIENT short comic idea that I still really like, so you can look forward to having your wish granted eventually ;)

Though, to be clear, Orin is older than DU drow, so she might not look that much younger. I do want to have a little more fun with hers and Sarevok's design however (also to just draw more young DU drow overall).

There are pros and cons to either, but I think he probably enjoys having a penis more. Not only is he already used to that anatomy, but it likely suits their very versatile dynamic most. If we're talking gender alone, I think Astarion would be truly indifferent 🤷

Oh he would be insufferable. Attentive and loving to a fault. If the partner in question happened to enjoy luxuriating and doing nothing all day, it would work out wonderfully - but if they have any desire for independence and self-sufficiency while pregnant, that might pose a problem. He also might have some trouble empathizing with the shittier parts of carrying - being so enamored with the idea that he can't fathom the downsides being so bad that some tender love and care can't fix them.

DU drow would be similarly whimsied during birth and definitely be very involved.

Somewhat surprisingly, however, I don't think anything could ever convince him to put the baby's life above his partner's. If at any point that was a decision that had to be made, he would, without hesitation.

He must have 2 or 3 long suffering pairs that look pretty similar. Very much the kind of guy to wear clothes until they completely fall apart.

LOL, THANK YOU. Were it not for the occasional glass of wine, the guy would probably be some sort of murderous straight-edge weirdo 😂EXTREMELY self-righteous about it, of course.

Except for poppers. I don't know what poppers look like in Faerun, but whatever that would be - he had a drawer full of them.

So, on one hand, you are completely right. It does suit him very well.

On the other hand, I am DYING to know why you think so, because that's the first I'm ever thinking about it myself and have no answer beyond "he looks like a foot man".

He definitely "fell in" by "accident" 😏

I will NOT accept this sort of slander, he would only do that if he really disliked them.

I don't know about the ears but he can def' make the girls hop.

I'm sure there's a lot of little things you could isolate that we have in common, that tends to be the case for most people (in that we can easily relate to fictional characters in general) - but we are largely opposites. I guess we both like animals, though even in that we part when it comes to our attitude towards house pets and the likes - I'm taking my cat to the orthopedist tomorrow. Somehow that doesn't sound like something he would do.

I guess that depends on what your definition of fem dressing is! I have put him in lingerie before and the guy DOES sport low-cut shirts and tight, tight pants all the time. I don't think dresses would really suit his figure, but he wouldn't be opposed to something frilly in the bedroom if it gave Astarion a laugh.

In every day life, I just don't think he would enjoy the flowyness and pomp one might associate with more (fantasy genre) feminine dress. He's a practical guy! Hence why his wardrobe looks like a lesbian's.

It is only humanoid feet, sorry anon, LOL.

Either dead or on that Vampire Ascendant grind, no in-between.

Probably large felines! But he keeps that to himself to avoid the Drizzt jokes.

I have had a couple of friends that remind me of Astarion, I think we could have been fine-weather buddies when I was in my early twenties and then inevitably stop talking to each other and not really miss one another very much 😂 same thing if I existed in the universe of BG3 - no matter what, I just wouldn't be wanting to get involved with whatever they're doing.

I could never be friends with DU drow but we would get along at the pub. I'm fairly confident they would both find me horrifically boring, be nice to my face, and make fun of me behind my back.

#ask #ask compilation #du drow and astarion #du drow lore

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viperify · 21 days ago

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oneshots | ᴀꜱꜱᴀꜱꜱɪɴ!ᴛᴏᴍ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

⚔︎ You Promised.

Short Summary: he is ruthless when he kills, doesn’t show an ounce of mercy. Cold and quick with it—if you are lucky. Because for most captured Order members, he likes to drag it out. Not because they are the only remaining resistance against his father. He’s stopped caring about that a long time ago. No. They took something from him. The only person he has ever truly cared about. You.

Warnings: 18+ only! angst, mentions of death, violence, murder. Tom is Voldemort’s son. dub con if you squint? brief rough sex, praise, unprotected piv, creampie

A/N: I think I bent the meaning of assassin a tiny bit. Anyway, this is my participation for week three of @acourtofchaos’ Festival of AUs!

wordcount: 3,1k

You were aware going out to hunt that one rare potion ingredient that night was a mistake. Yes, it was only available during full moon and then only for two to three hours—but you knew for a fact that you wouldn’t be the only one looking for it. And running into Snatchers really wasn’t something you wanted to risk.

But when Harry himself came asking whether you could look for them that night, you knew how urgent it was. The Order was so close to running out of healing potions, and if you denied—

You sighed and agreed.

Later that night, you and three others made your way to the Forbidden Forest, the only place nearby where you could find the rare flowers you were looking for. Not too deep into the forest, you find what you were looking for—blooming in bright purple, surrounded by fireflies.

The forest was eerily quiet at that time, except for the crunch of branches each time you took a step and the occasional screeches of birds nearby. Though, when you heard the distinctive sound of apparition somewhere not too far away, you stilled, froze. You tried to convince the others to leave, as you’d surely have enough for the month to come—yet nobody wanted to listen, there were more—just a few more—just a little further into the forest—

Until you were surrounded by the very people you warned them about before you left.

Outnumbered by at least five.

There was nothing you could do—your wand was taken faster than you could react. And without a wand—you were helpless.

—

Hours later, and you all find yourselves lined up in a basement—knees scraping against the cold, rough ground beneath you. Hands tied behind your back, scratchy cotton material secured over your head, blocking your vision.

This is it. You are going to die today.

Back when rumours spread that most killings are done by one single person, you didn’t believe them. Surely no human could muster up the strength to kill day in, day out.

Right?

Except—

No.

Tom wouldn’t.

Couldn’t have—

However, the longer you are left waiting, the more time you have to think about it all—you haven’t seen him since you left Hogwarts, since the war started. It’s been more than a year, and a lot has happened since. A lot has changed. He might have changed.

Then, your thoughts slip to just Tom.

How people, including yourself, would be afraid to even look at him—Voldemort’s son.

How he’d always be top of the class—except for that one time you were.

And the next time too.

How it would turn into a rivalry, a bitter fight over who would score higher on the next exam.

How most of your nights were spent in the library from that point on.

Tom would be there too. Never leave before you did.

How he would steal glances at you from the other side of the library.

How glances would turn into stares, stares that you noticed, that made your cheeks grow hot, that made you question whether you actually hated him as much as you told yourself you did.

And how that hatred turned into something completely different when you outscored him on a Defence Against the Dark Arts paper. His subject. The one nobody had ever even come close to him. When you smirked at him as soon as you realised, and he had this unreadable expression etched on his face.

How, as soon as that class ended and everyone had left, he pushed you against the cold stone wall of the corridor. Accused you of cheating. Accused you of Merlin knows what.

“I hate you,” he whispered, and then, just a second later—his lips crashed on yours. And it was even better than what you had imagined all these nights in the library—how your lips moved in sync with his, how eager he was to feel more of you, hands slipping under your blouse, leaving goosebumps in their wake. How you leaned into his touch as though this wasn’t the son of the most feared wizard of Great Britain, probably the entire world.

Fuck, you wanted this more than anything else.

And when you broke apart—both of you gasping for air—he would breathe a soft “Merlin, I hate you so much.”

“I hate you too.” You replied, a grin tugging at the corner of your lips.

And you’d kiss again.

How from that point on, you’d study together. You were just trying to help each other—that’s what you told anyone asking. Tom would always tell you how nobody could know.

Students started giving you strange looks. Because how could you possibly spend time with someone who seemed to care about no one and nothing except himself and his studies?

They didn’t know. It was better that way, you told yourself.

How, in free periods, he’d always come to find you. Push you into the nearest classroom, lock the door behind you. Lips on yours before you could even complain. Ripping your blouse open because he was too damn impatient to unbutton it—and you’d scold him for it every single time—and he would just do it again next time.

“There is a simple spell to repair it. There is no spell to spend more time making you feel good, sweetheart.”

And with his lips trailing kisses down your neck, sucking marks into your skin, right at the spot he knew would have your knees grow weak—any rational thought left your brain in an instant.

He’d kiss down the valley between your breasts, fingers slowly making their way underneath the lace of your panties, preparing you for him.

He treated you like you were made of glass—which even surprised you sometimes. The quiet, nerdy boy who’d have witty answers to all questions. Who’d only have to look in the direction of students nearby to silence them, make them leave.

Tom was always careful with you.

Except if you outscored him on an exam. Then, he wasn’t as careful.

You didn’t mind that, though.

It all had to stay a secret, he liked to remind you of it. That nobody could know, not even your best friend, who would pester you with questions if you came back past curfew from one of your “study sessions”. You couldn’t tell her. Nobody. Not even your parents, who didn’t know anything about the wizarding world. You wondered if it was because of that. Judging by the way the corner of his mouth twitched whenever you mentioned your muggle parents, you had your answer.

Your love was forbidden—but so, so delicious.

—

You hear the door to the basement creak open, and what you guess to be five Death Eaters approach you with heavy footsteps.

You don’t know if you are lucky or unlucky when they pass you, instead start on the other side of the line.

Make you witness the death of some of your closest friends.

Their blood-curdling screams and unheard pleas as they are left bleeding to death on the cold, wet stone floor.

Because—whoever does the killings—and you are pretty certain it is only one of them—doesn’t use their wand, but a knife.

Too many killing curses are known to have long-term effects, after all.

But with each victim more—you feel as though they do it with pleasure.

And Merlin, you weren’t ready to die that way.

You don’t have much time left to think about it before a firm hand tugs at the material over your head, tilting your head backwards.

“Last one.” An unfamiliar voice remarks somewhere to the left of you, and not even a second later, you feel the cold, unyielding metal of a knife press against your throat.

You don’t want to give whoever it is the satisfaction of any reaction—but when the sharp blade scrapes against your skin, drawing the first drops of blood—you can’t help the soft, pained whimper escaping your lips.

As if stunned, the hand holding the knife stills, and they let go of your head.

Instead, the material covering your face is cut, and you blink a few times as your eyes adjust to the different lighting—and when they focus, your heart skips a beat.

You are met with a pair of dark brown eyes you would recognize under thousands of others—his.

Tom’s.

“Fucking hell.” He mutters under his breath and doesn’t waste another second thinking. He draws his wand and turns around. Spells fly in all directions, and you duck—the room lighting up in green, red, buzzing with electricity.

Then—silence.

For just a moment.

He takes your hand in his, and the next second you apparate away, finding yourself in a small, cozy place hidden somewhere in the woods. The wound on your skin burns, but he doesn’t let you touch it.

“Let me do this.” He insists, and with just two or three spells muttered, it stops bleeding and the pain fades.

You study him for a moment. It’s really him.

“Tom.” You whisper. Silent, careful.

He finally looks at you. Not like he did back at Hogwarts. He looks different now. Sharper features, older, more mature, with a scar right above his left eyebrow. You want to ask what happened, want to trace it with your finger, want to kiss it.

Kiss him.

His eyes are cloudy now, and he’s lost the spark he used to have whenever it was just you two. And—he has become what he promised you he wouldn’t.

Just like his father.

Maybe they were right, after all.

His grip on your shoulder tightens, and you wince softly as the rough wood bites into your back.

“You told me you wouldn’t take any unnecessary risks. That you would be careful.” He raises his voice, and it almost breaks. “Merlin, you fucking promised me.”

He sounds more disappointed than angry when he says it.

He’s right. You did promise him. Right before the war, you promised each other two things. One, you’d be careful, wouldn’t take any risky tasks, would do anything to stay alive. Two, he would come back for you. Would find you after the war. Although he was aware that the chance of both of you surviving was rather slim.

You shake your head softly.

“It was always supposed to be like this, Tom. Us. Enemies. We fight for two very different things.”

He scoffs softly at that.

“You think I still care about any of this? He’s ill. He’s dying. Barely gets up nowadays.” Tom takes a step back, and you swallow. “He has been using me for— this for months. And if you think—“ his hands clench into fists as the muscles in his fingers twitch at the mere thought, and he pauses briefly. “If you think I get any better treatment than others when they don’t act according to his instructions, you are mistaken.”

You sob.

“You killed them. All of them.”

He takes your face into his hands.

“They took you from me. They let you get these ingredients when they knew how dangerous it was. You almost died at my hands. Because of them. You left me for them. I offered you a safe house, far away from here. Yet, they convinced you to stay. If you believe even for a second that I would shy away from killing them— think again.”

Tears are streaming down your face by the time he is done.

“I chose this, Tom. Nobody forced me.” You hiccup. “This was my choice, and my choice alone.”

One of his hands slips to your neck. They are cold. Not warm like they used to be when they roamed over your bare skin. You miss the warmth.

He pulls you closer again, eyes narrowing at your words.

“And fuck— a part of me wants to hurt you for this. Punish you. But I— I can’t.”

His gaze drops for a second, and his voice softens.

“I missed you. I thought of you every day, wondered whether you were doing alright. Wondered whether you were thinking of me too.”

You exhale a shaky breath, trying to find the right words. Of course you did too.

“Tom, I—“

The corner of his mouth twitches.

“You have moved on, haven’t you? Found someone else.”

Your heart aches at his words.

“No!” You gasp, shaking your head. “I didn’t. I wouldn’t—“

Then, without letting you finish your sentence, he pulls you closer to kiss you. Soft at first—giving you space to draw back—but when you don’t, he holds you close, kisses you like it’s the first time all over again.

When you separate, there is this all-too-familiar fire behind his eyes—the one he used to have. And as much as you wanted to—

“We have a lot to talk about.” You try, but he merely shakes his head.

“That can wait. Let us have this.”

Before you get to object, his lips are on yours once more, and he guides you towards the bed in the centre of the room without once breaking the kiss.

Shirt torn open, button of your pants clinking as it drops to the floor.

Old habits.

“I hate you,” you murmur against his lips, and his mouth lifts into a smirk. “I hate you so much.”

It all happens quickly after that. Moments later, you are on the bed and he’s on top of you, trailing kisses down your neck—just like he used to do.

Then, you feel him pressing against you—already hard, tip swollen and leaking. You gasp when he swipes through your folds and instinctively squirm at the contact—but Tom is quick to reposition you, pinning your hands above your head with ease.

“No. You don’t get to run from me anymore. You’ll stay right here and take it. Take it like the good girl I know you are.”

He doesn’t wait much longer. He’s been waiting too long for this, and now that he’s finally got you back—he is going to utilize every single second he would get to spend with you before he’d have to leave again.

He pushes inside with one singular thrust. Doesn’t give you time to adjust.

And God—it’s been a while. You forgot how big he is—the burn of the stretch so overwhelming that your nails dig into his back and your breath catches in your throat.

He doesn’t feel you tensing beneath him. Doesn’t spot the strained look on your face. Instead, he has already set a rhythm. Hips slamming against yours so harshly, the headboard hits the wall with each thrust.

You don’t want him to stop. You really don’t. But when he shifts his angle to reach even deeper—a strained whimper slips from your lips, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

The moment Tom hears the soft sound spilling over your lips, he lifts his head and stills inside of you.

“Am I hurting you?” he asks, concern visible in his eyes as they search yours. “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have— I will stop.”

You hold onto his arm when he begins to pull away, shaking your head no.

“No. Please don’t. Please don’t stop.” You plead as his eyes scan your face. “Just don’t— I haven’t— you know.”

Tom gives you a tight nod, taking it slower with you after that. Carefully giving you inch after inch, kissing along your jaw. Praising you for how well you are doing for him.

“Forgot how amazing you feel wrapped around me like this,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as his hips stay flush against yours for a second—before he continues his slow and steady thrusts.

His hand slips between the both of you when he feels your walls flutter around him, rubbing your clit in tight circles—just how he knows you like it.

“Tom— Tom, please—“ you moan against his lips, and he rests your legs on his shoulders, allowing him deeper, brushing against that one sweet spot that has you see stars with every single thrust of his hips.

“Come for me, pretty girl. Let it all out.” He tells you, and that’s all it takes to push you over the edge. You whimper-moan as the knot in your lower abdomen snaps, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your walls pulse, clamping down tight, drawing a low groan from him.

He helps you through it, prolongs your pleasure for as long as possible—then, gently, shifts your legs to either side of him, allowing him to lean in close once more. And when he’s close, cock twitching inside of you—

“Where— where can I—“ he rasps, hot breath against your neck, and your legs lock around his waist, keeping him pressed against you.

“Inside. Inside, please.”

“Fuck— so long— been waiting so long for this— “ he drawls, and with one more rough thrust, he spills inside of you—deep, painting your walls white with his release.

His body rests on top of yours after, catching his breath. None of you talk, not until he rolls off to lie beside you, and he takes your hand in his.

You look at him when you feel the muscles in his fingers spasm.

“Cruciatus Curse? Have treated many people with the same symptoms.” You say softly, thumb easing along his index finger.

“I told you. It doesn’t matter to him.” He retorts, voice calm as though it were the most normal thing in the world.

“Oh, Tom. I am so sorry.” You whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. You rest your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath you—eyelids slowly fluttering closed as his fingers brush through your hair.

It’s not long until he wakes you, though.

“I am being called,” he tells you, sitting up after placing your head on the pillow next to you, and your gaze drops to the mark on his arm. “Means they found the bodies.”

You too sit up, taking his wrist in your hand as you look up at him. “Please don’t go. I don’t want them to hurt you because of me.”

“If I don’t, they’ll be here within the next five minutes. Neither you nor I would want that. You will stay here.”

Your hand grips his tighter.

“You’ll be back?”

He gives you a nod. “Yes.”

“Promise?”

He smiles softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I promise.”

thank you for reading! feel free to reblog and leave feedback <3 — masterlist. | oneshots.

#ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᴍᴀʀ’ꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ✎ᝰ.ᐟ #festivalofaus #I don’t like this and it bothers me.#tom riddle #tom riddle smut #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle fanfic #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle fic #slytherin #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys smut #harry potter #harry potter fandom #viperify #dividers by strangergraphics #dividers by saradika

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skeletonh0e · 3 months ago

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Darling, just start the Chase

Description: You unfortunately go into heat, dealing with that alone is unpleasant but your pheromones trigger each of their own respective heats. Four of the most deadly men in the multi verse are desperate to compete for the right of mate, can you escape or will the boys kill each other trying to get to you? A/N: Extremely self indulgent that's been rumbling around in my brain for a bit, had to write it out. There will be multiple parts, rest assured. Fem Reader with AFAB anatomy, x Killer Sans, Horror Sans, Nightmare Sans & Dust Sans. Everything is consensual (though not safe or sane), but it's a heat fic with the typical elements of dub con/cnc, lost of control, possessive behavior, etc. Reader is a monster, species is vague, kinda went the route of them having an implied romance with all four Sanses going on already but it kind of left all up to interpretation regarding the exact history with each Sans. I did my best to spell check and beta read but it's probably still messy, sworry

MINORS DNI

You're up early, really early. The sun hadn't even properly risen yet, your body felt flush and the moment you went to simply sit up, your nearly groaned as something extremely sensitive coursed through your sex. It didn't quite click yet, you've woke up horny before but as you got onto your feet properly you feel the sheer dampness in between your legs.

Then you remembered the time of month and the year.

Fuck.

This was not the ideal time for this, far from it, your heat cycle was never a pleasant time. You always rode it out alone for better or worse, the thing about it was that once you really got going on it you just couldn't stop. And it tended to go on for a week at best, only cutting short if you managed to get yourself properly knocked up within a few days. Having a kid was one thing but going deep into a craze of non stop week sounded nice at first but it'd leave you tired after the fact as well as throw all current ones out the window.

That couldn't happen you had plans, that's not even mentioning you promised to meet with Nightmares Crew, fuck, those stupid toxic assholes

You nearly whine, flashes of their faces coursing through you and images of being pinned underneath him. Fuck, your insides clench and your can't help but wonder how fucking ruined your underwear is. Your pussy is so fucking ready for this, that instictinual part to be claimed, fucked, breed good and proper. You cringe a bit, it's hard to tell how much that idea naturally appeals to you and how much of it is hormones going crazy. It's probably just both when you get down to it.

No, you cannot see any of them like this. That's not even mentioning how they might react to this news, you could trust Nightmare and Axe to be mature, maybe Dust, but Killer? You're already dreading the thought.

You'll make up some excuse, for now...? You gotta take care of this, wasn't there some medicine that helped with the severity of these? You should get on looking into that. Quickly, your force your feet to your closet, picking out....whatever. It was a pretty boring set of clothes, but it gave you some much needed layers to your sensitive body. More skin covered the better.

The moment you have your bedroom though, there's someone in the hallway. Someone you just decided you were going to try to avoid right now,

"Dust...." you breathe out in clear surprise.

He's leaning against the wall, face completely covered though from his posture it didn't seem like he was looking at anything in particular, he doesn't respond at first but slowly turns to look at you, "good mornin' sleeping beauty"

"I think I'm the one that should be saying that to you....you've been up longer," not that you minded too much, though him visiting was one thing him doing so while you were asleep? That was new, "Do you...uh, need something?"

"boss ordered me and the others to escort you today somethin' happened and he wants look outs on all our resources" he's not telling you everything.

You frown trying to put the pieces together....something was concerning enough for Nightmare to send all his goons to look after you? You'll need to get onto that but, "Where are the others?" you ask, trying once again to ignore your clit throbbing at the idea of the other two here

"on their way here soon I imagine I got here early," he stops leaning on the nearby wall, taking a step closer to you, "seems like a good thing I did"

There was something....strange in how he was looking at you, a brief flash of his multi colored eyes and you felt like prey under the gaze of a far large more dangerous animal, it triggers your instincts to run away but you resist. "Guessin' there's no point in telling ole' Mare that I'm fine for today?"

"cut the shit," his tone was unusually blunt, "I can smell that"

You frown again, about to ask him to elaborate but he motions to your hips, taking another step closer and you take a step back.

"don't think boss knows, would have come to get you himself otherwise, but i'm glad for it I get you all to myself," he presses forward and you're slowly being backed up before you know it.

Your mind is racing, arousal surging through you as you're both scared as hell yet impossibly aroused by the scene unfolding before you. He's already figured out you're in heat? You wanted to hope you had been at least a little subtle but your back is pushed against the wall and loud thuds ring out against both sides of your head. His hands tightly planted on both sides of you as you're face to face with him.

You can even make out a decent chunk of his face from his hood, that's saying something.

"Back off," you hiss out, but he doesn't even falter.

"do you actually want me to?"

You don't respond back instantly, your expression clearly mirroring the flurry of conflicted emotions. You know you want this, need this, but you also know once this starts it's not going to stop. That's not even accounting for other factors like how you liked Dust but you've never gone as far as to sleep with him or even any of them before.

Your lack of immediate response was confirmation enough, as his hands are then placed on your shoulders, an alarming amount of force added just to keep you pinned and in place. Another factor that was added to this already intense situation getting tenser but his forcefulness turned you on even more. You can call it you being a freak or pure instinct but it's there

"you like making us work for it? you like knowing your struggling gets us off?" his voice is nearly a growl, the sound rendering your mind blank enough you don't think about what the implications of 'us' means here, "i'm not much better honestly keeping you here, holding you down, not lettin' you escape, it does something for me"

You're starting to question where all this aggression is coming from, not that Dust was ever gentle in the sense but less violent than Axe or Killer. However his hips grind against your own and you can feel how fucking hard he is through both of your clothes. Heat shoots through your core, further empathized as you manage to fully smell him.

He's in heat too.

You're still tightly pinned underneath him, Dust goes to lean down to bite your jugular, it wasn't extremely painful but it was firm, definitely felt, definitely leaving a mark and the mewl you make in response to it is nearly embarrassing as his hands go to grope at your body, hurtedly burying themselves underneath the several layers of clothes.

How can he be in heat? How? There ain't no way you two both happened to have perfectly synched cycles unless you were truly unfortunately unlucky, did...did you do this to him? Fuck, does it even matter? His smell is making you further messy and needy and your smell is fueling his growing aggression, it's so fucking tantalizing

"Dust," you grasp out, his hips continuing to rut against yours desperate for some frition.

Fuck, what would the others say? They were coming soon weren't they? Is this how it's going to be? The other two walking in on each other dry dumping like horny teenagers trying to hide from their respective parents?

He certainly doesn't seem to care, if you probably asked he'd probably like the idea of fucking you right in front of them. Once again it's hard to tell where these are natural desires you're both having or just getting pushed on by the pheromone filled heat.

"god fucking damn," clearly getting frustrated with all the clothes in-between you two, his hands curl into tight balls clutching your attire clearly about to rip the fabric off you, "inside. i need inside you now."

Was this happening? He was going to rip off your clothes then mate you here probably in front of his other coworkers once they arrive? And how bad was it that at this rate you'd happily let him? Even if resisting would have encouraged him more.

"Dus-" you were going to rasp out his name again, parts of your shirt already torn and the chill of the room hits you, but the scene is quickly stopped as in a blur of red and black, Dust was kicked off you.

Literally. Kicked. And flung across the room.

"You fucking slut," Killer arrived, clearly less than amused by the sight before you. His annoyance at Dust, not you, "You know damn well boss has a soft spot for this bitch, if he finds out you were trying to put your dick in her, he'd be pissed as all hell, especially if I let you."

Dust didn't respond as he got back onto his feet, glaring daggers at the other. Killer already dawning his knife as if expecting a fight already. "And if I'm getting his trouble it's because I put my dick in her, capiche?"

"fuck off" was the only reply that Dust barked back with,

Killer actually looked disappointed, "C'mon your comebacks are usually better than that, don't tell me that-" he froze, smelling something and that's when he turned to look at you. Something...changing in his expression, one that made your stomach twist.

Okay, clearly you and Dust weren't the only one being affected by your heat. Is this going to be the case with Axe too? Nightmare even? That odd mix of both fear and arousal shot through you again, unfortunately Dust and Killer took note of this.

"Oh ho, maybe I was wrong, does Boss know she's all like this?" he took a step forward, you were worried you were about to be pinned for a second time but Dust immediately stands in his way, the two glare at each other but you take the opportunity to shuffle to the other side of the room to gain some much needed distance.

Your pussy was going crazy with want, there were now two other monsters both in heat here and the desperation of your state was starting to show. Mentally you were cursing yourself, at this rate you're starting to think you might as well give up on your plans for the week, the universe was clearly conspiring against you in the best worst way possible.

"I see what's going on here, you were trying to keep her all to yourself? If Boss sent us all to take care of her, we should share shouldn't we?" Killer hummed, though honestly it didn't seem like he actually believed Nightmare sent them out for this reason alone. But it's clear that he wasn't willing to back down and let Dust have you either.

Your eyes scanned the area, you knew your own home like the back of your hand though you weren't aware of how familiar the boys were with your universe in particular. How far could you actually get?

The hooded skeleton let out a huff, "you won't share, I won't share, Axe ain't gonna fucking share either, you know that."

"he's right on that part," the gruff voice startled you as you turned around to see Axe looming off in the shadows, he's....salivating....okay the heat is affecting him too. Fuck, you have not one not two but three lust filled unhinged skeletons in your house, your thighs desperately clenched together.

God dammit....

"H-hey guys, don't I get a say in this?" your voice comes out a bit strained, "I don't want to be with any of you."

That's a lie, it's a bold face lie, the boys can all smell how it's a lie. But you don't want to just give in to it, not yet at least.

"you wouldn't be smellin' that good if that was really the case," Axe informed, his gaze inherently predatory as the others also stalked forward.

"I think she just wants us to chase her? Don't you? She loves being a tease after all," Killer laughed, "Or maybe she wants to see which one of us can successfully hunt her down."

"you both seem to be forgetting that I got here first," Dust added on.

"This isn't dibs, you don't win the game by being first," Killer chuckled, "It's a matter of who gets to her and who keeps her, she's already planning to run away. And when she runs from you she'll run right into my arms."

What is even happening? God, things are escalating, how long can you outrun any of them? They all have shortcuts, maybe Axe uses them far less than the other two but they still have them and how far can you get from three dangerous killers. You feel like easy prey in a growing impossible situation. Maybe you should just summon Nightmare to have him call off his lackies, but that's assuming he wouldn't be affected by his heat.

But honestly even if he wasn't there's no guarantee he might insert himself as a player in this game, despite what he claims he could be just as immature and petty as his underlings.

"You all couldn't even manage to catch me if you tried," you hissed out, playing along for now. If you actually did manage to escape them, then good, you could continue the rest of this week out mostly according to plan. If not well....it took everything in your will power to stop your legs from trembling.

Worst ways to spend a week you guessed.

"so it is a challenge then," Axe hummed, an sinister sounding chuckle erupting from him, "you might wanna be careful with those words, unlike these two i actually have experience tracking down prey and with that scent you won't get far"

"You underestimate me," Killer cooed, Dust pointedly saying nothing. "Let's be a little fair to her, hows about a five...maybe ten minute head start?"

Neither of them interjected, guessed that was agreed upon. Only ten minutes? How much ground could you cover in that time? Does it matter when it doesn't even seem like they're willing to negotiate on that?

"Clock starts now rabbit," Killer informed, pointing to his non-existent watch.

You took a deep breath, this was definitely happening. "Catch me if you can, boys." was the only response you could properly huff out, before immediately turning to book it out the back door. Not before hearing Killer smugly shout out,

"Nine minutes left!"

Silence lingered in the room among the three Sans as they allowed you to at least gain some ground, Dust being the one to break it with a realization.

"boss isn't gonna be happy about this," the one thing Killer was right about.

"What? You gonna snitch?" Killer asked, his tone making it clear that he was against the very idea of this getting back to their boss in any form. "If he finds out, worst case scenario we're all punished for it....best case scenario he joins in on our game."

"you mean he'll cheat," Axe informed tactfully, "already don't trust you on that front,"

"What?" Killer huffed, clearly offended, "I would never!"

"you would," Dust snarled, "so here's the deal, any of us start playing unfairly then we call boss, got it?"

Killer and Axe shared a look, no one wanted Nightmare involved. They were all under his thumb in some form or another and his "soft spot" for you was fairly well known at this point, he'd just steal you away before any of them could come close.

Silently they just both nodded.

"how much time does she have left?" Axe asked, eyes scanning to the door you left open in your haste.

Killer's smirk widened, "Five minutes."

#💀 bad boys bad boys what chu you gonna do when they come for you? (bad sans gang)#killer sans x reader #dust sans x reader #nightmare sans x reader #horrortale sans x reader #horror sans x reader #sans x reader #smut drabble #smut one shot #not a lot of nightmare but he's coming rest assured

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ktkat99 · 1 year ago

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Update to this prompt I posted a little while ago. Scroll to the bottom for a link to the story.

Tim gets injured while not wearing his suit one night.

Bernard, who has never met Tim before, finds him and takes him home. He ends up losing his memory and Bernard decides to let him move in while he heals, unaware that he's really Red Robin.

Bruce and the rest of the family can't find Tim anywhere.

Days turn into weeks.

Weeks turn to months.

All without a trace.

Tim and Bernard are getting used to living together, and both the pros and cons of being roommates.

Tim will sometimes have nightmares or flashbacks, but he’s also started to heal.

His family ends up torn, with Jason, Dick, and Steph convinced he’s alive, while Bruce, Cass and Damian have all resigned themselves to believing that he died.

One night, Tim and Bernard take a nighttime walk to a convenience store and witness a robbery.

Tim stops the guy on instinct and has a flashback of fighting with Nightwing. He assumes he was a criminal and runs off before the clerk can thank him.

Something the clerk mentions to Officer Dick Greyson when he arrives to arrest the thief. The clerk hands over the surveillance footage, which ends up being proof that Tim survived.

Dick is overjoyed, but Steph and Jason point out that he isn't being held hostage. He's free and yet never contacted them.

Was he in hiding?

From them?

Or for his own protection from someone?

Or maybe the civilian he was with had done something to him?

Whatever the reason, they decide against telling the rest of the family until they can figure out what's going on.

They begin following Tim, keeping their distances.

Tim, meanwhile, after ‘remembering’ being a criminal, can't stop obsessing over his scars, and who he might have hurt to receive them. He keeps thinking about the convenience store clerk and Bernard, wracked with guilt about all the things he may have done.

Bernard stays by him the whole time, doing his best to calm him down.

Tim doesn't tell him what's on his mind out of fear of being kicked out, and Bernard assumes the event was too stressful for him and doesn't push him to talk.

Eventually, the two of them fall asleep together, and Tim promises to make up for his past crimes by protecting Bernard. Things gradually go back to normal with Bernard going to work and Tim, who has no valid id, staying home and taking care of the apartment.

Nightwing, Red Hood, and Spoiler take turns watching Tim and Bernard.

They still haven't told their family, but know they can't just follow Tim forever.

Before they can decide on their next move, though, Cass bumps into him while grocery shopping. She freezes and he doesn't recognize her, but Dick, Jason, and Steph have to come clean.

Cass is pissed, Bruce wants to bring Tim home immediately, and Damian points out that he might not even want to come home, and that they should leave him be.

They decide that, before they make their decision, they need to talk to Tim. Maybe he really did just decide to quit.

Tim, meanwhile, has been using his free time while Bernard is at work to help people who need it. He becomes somewhat of a neighborhood vigilante, believing that he needs to make up for his past crimes.

Most of the injuries he incurs are minor and easy to hide from Bernard, but one day he takes a knife to the arm.

Bernard freaks out and tries to give him stitches in their kitchen, but then has to convince Tim to let him take him to a hospital.

Tim, not wanting to be arrested for crimes he doesn't remember committing, therefore leaving Bernard alone, argues that he's fine.

It doesn't hurt that bad.

He'll heal.

Bernard gets frustrated and shows off his own scars, which he had worked hard to always keep hidden. He explains what happened to him, and how his family disowned him as a result of ending up in the cult, and that he promises he won't put Tim in a situation where he could be in danger.

He asks to know why Tim is so adamant against going to the hospital and Tim reluctantly admits what he's pieced together from his flashbacks.

Bernard is shocked to find out that he might have been sharing his apartment with a criminal, but reasons that that must be why Tim knows how to fight.

Deciding to focus on the problem at hand, Bernard convinces Tim to at least let him take him to Leslie’s place, as she doesn't ask questions.

Leslie proceeds to ask questions, prompting Bernard to be the one to answer them for Tim.

Leslie comes to the conclusion that Bernard is answering so that Tim doesn't say the wrong thing, and only grows more concerned when she tries to subtly give him openings to slip her a message or some sort of sign that he needs help and he doesn't.

She decides that, since he's acting like he's never met her, she'll play along.

Once Bernard and Tim leave, she calls Bruce and tells him what happened.

Bruce decides it's time to step in because something is clearly wrong with Tim.

Tim and Bernard head back home and have a long talk about everything Tim's been hiding and what he's been up to.

Bernard wonders if Tim might be wrong about his assumption that he was a criminal, but Tim remembers stalking Batman, fighting with Nightwing, Robin trying to kill him and a few other things.

Tim was a criminal, and he's certain of it.

At a loss of what else to do, Bernard convinces Tim to get takeout for dinner, since neither have eaten yet.

Tim agrees and they walk down to Tim's favorite place.

On the way there, Batman and Nightwing show up and order them into the Batmobile.

Tim manages to fight off Nightwing as Batman is driving and Nightwing isn't expecting Tim to fight him and escapes with Bernard.

Their suspicions all appear to be confirmed; the Batfam believe Tim is being controlled by Bernard, while Bernard and Tim believe he's a wanted criminal.

Tim decides he needs to leave, since he's obviously being hunted, but Bernard refuses to let him.

Not alone, at least.

Tim wants Bernard to stay safe, which means away from him, but Bernard is just as worried about Tim's safety. They argue, but ultimately both find an abandoned building to hide in together.

They decide to take turns sleeping and Tim falls asleep wondering what sort of crime he committed to warrant the Bats searching for him. He ends up dreaming of the night he found his father's body and wakes up believing that he killed him.

Bernard has nodded off at this point and Tim needs to clear his head so he heads up to the roof to process what he dreamed about.

The bats decide that, for their safety and his, Tim will need to be taken by force and they can figure out what's wrong with him once they have him back home.

They track them to the abandoned building and break in, but only find Bernard.

Bernard ends up getting captured quickly and taken to the batcave for questioning.

Tim, who witnessed the abduction but hadn't been quick enough in getting down from the roof to do anything, decides it's time to go on the offensive against the bats.

He has had enough flashbacks to piece together that Batman is Bruce.

He's tired.

Angry.

Frustrated.

He's been living for months without knowledge of who he used to be and having to deal with random flashbacks and trying to piece together what his life before looked like.

The bats taking Bernard is his last straw.

He decides to start by breaking into the manor and looking for Bernard there.

Bernard, meanwhile, is desperately trying to convince Bruce and the others that he has no idea where Tim is, that he didn't do anything to Tim, and that Tim has amnesia.

They don't believe him until Tim shows up and goes all-out trying to attack them and escape with Bernard, but Bernard is the one who manages to calm him down and convince him to listen to his family.

It takes a while, and a lot of proof, but Tim finally regains his memory.

He and Bernard officially start dating and move back in together.

They like to joke that Bernard had the craziest introduction to the family, despite being a civilian.

584 notes · View notes

urmum-lovesme · 5 months ago

Text

Angel Baby - Rafe Cameron x Kook!reader P11

pairing: Best Friend!Rafe Cameron x Kook!Best-Friend!reader

summary: Rafe and Reader have known each other since kindergarten, always side by side, the king and princess of Figure 8. So why now does he start feeling different towards her, when all she's ever been is his best friend?

a/n: My babies I'm sorry for the last chpt but it gets a little better (not really I'm a liar). Y/n is struggling in this and I love Sarah she's my queen. I hate y/n's mother, no further debate. Topper and Kelce blessing the situation with their dumbasses but most importantly what we've all been waiting for, will Rafe and Y/n finally talk it out even though they're stuck in a sticky situation.....? Read and find out BAHAHAHA.

p.s: I made a reference to a TikTok meme that's so big rn and a movie that's one of my favourites all in the same scene, see if you can spot them ;)

warnings: hospitals, mentions of sa and non-con, bad mother daughter relationship, being held in custody, emotional turmoil, tense conversations, crying, mentions of violence, alcohol, panic attacks, soft!Rafe (about damned time)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rafe sat at the cold metal table, his hands were cuffed, the sharp clink of the chains echoing in his ears everytime he shuffled his hands. He could still feel the adrenaline coursing through him, though it had long since faded to exhaustion. The night had gone from confusion to chaos, and now, sitting here, he couldn’t fully grasp how it had gotten this far. He tried to keep his composure, but every time his mind wandered, it drifted back to Y/N- how she looked… covered in bruises. His stomach twisted at the thought. How could anyone do that to her? And then Cooper- he’d done what had to be done, right? He’d stopped him, even if that meant the boy was left barely breathing.

He didn’t regret that for a second.

The door opened with a creak, and Shoupe walked in, his heavy boots making soft thuds as he approached. He wasn’t a stranger to Rafe, or to the rest of the group for that matter, he knew them all too well, and he had a stern look on his face as he took a seat across from the boy.

“Rafe,” Shoupe started, his voice calm, “you’ve been here for a while now. You want to tell me what happened?”

Rafe looked at the sheriff, his chest tightening. He didn’t know how to explain himself- not without sounding like a guy trying to justify his own uncontrolled anger.

“I was just protecting her.

Rafe’s voice was low, his eyes meeting the sheriff’s. Shoupe sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, “I know you were trying to protect her, but you’ve got to understand, the way you went about it…” He trailed off, shaking his head slightly.

“You beat the hell out of him. That’s not self-defense.”

Rafe clenched his fists, his eyes narrowing. “What was I supposed to do, huh?”

I should have killed him that's what

Shoupe studied him for a long moment, his gaze softening just slightly. “I know you did what you thought was right, Rafe. But you have to understand, beating a guy into the ground like that? The law doesn’t care about intentions. It cares about actions. And right now, your actions don’t look too good. Cooper’s in the hospital. He’s unconscious.”

Rafe felt his chest tighten at the thought, if he died he was done for- so he hoped the boy survived, for his own sake of course. Rafe’s voice broke slightly,

“He was hurting her… and I had to do something.”

“You did something alright.”

Shoupe said, sitting back in his chair, rubbing his temples. “Now the question is, what’s gonna happen because of it. What’s your story, son? You’re lucky that Y/n is okay but you might be facing some serious charges.”

Rafe wanted to lash out, to argue, but the words got stuck in his throat. He could still see Y/N in his mind, trembling, crying, covered in blood. He couldn’t think straight.

“Did you talk to her? Did she tell you what happened?” Shoupe’s voice broke through Rafe’s thoughts.

“You know, if she doesn’t back up your story, it could get a lot worse for you.”

“She’ll back me up.”

Will she?

Rafe said firmly, though there was doubt creeping into his mind. What if she didn’t? What if she was too scared to speak? He couldn’t even imagine what she was going through right now, after everything.

Shoupe’s gaze softened. “I hope so, Rafe. I hope so.” He paused, then looked at him seriously. “If you want to have any shot at getting through this without more problems, you need to get your story straight. Don’t try to make excuses, be honest with me.”

Rafe nodded, feeling like he was in way over his head. But he didn’t care about anything else right now. He just wanted Y/N safe, he would face whatever consequences came his way as long as she was okay.

“I’ll tell you everything,” Rafe finally said, his voice quiet but resolute. “I’ll tell you the truth, I’ll uh- tell you what happened.”

Shoupe stood up slowly, giving him one last look. “Good. We’ll see what we can do from here. But right now, you’re staying here. Just… think it over.”

Shoupe left the room, leaving Rafe alone with his thoughts. He leaned back against the cold metal chair, his mind racing. He could only hope that Y/N would understand, that she wouldn’t be too scared to tell the truth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sterile smell of the hospital room was almost suffocating. It clung to the walls, to the sheets, and to Y/N. She could barely focus on anything- her mind was swirling in a haze of confusion and fear. She should be relieved that she was away from Cooper, but all she felt was numbness, like her body had turned off in self-preservation. Her fingers trembled as she clutched the thin hospital blanket wrapped around her. She couldn’t stop shaking, despite the warmth of the room. The whole process of the rape kit had been a blur- cold, clinical, invasive- but the worst part was the silence that followed; the silence that consumed her now, sitting in the hospital bed, as she tried to process everything that had happened.

Sarah was sitting quietly beside her, offering her some semblance of comfort, but Y/N couldn’t bring herself to talk. She wasn’t even sure what to say. What was she supposed to feel? The guilt that gnawed at her stomach, the shame that twisted in her chest, and the confusion about what was happening with Rafe- she couldn’t sort through it. Sarah tried her best to fill the silence, her voice gentle and soft. She spoke about random things, about the date she'd been on with John B, about how JJ had almost burnt the chateau down trying to make an omelet, her tone casual and light; but Y/N barely registered it as she nodded absently, staring at the covers of the bed. Then, the conversation slowed, Sarah’s voice quieted, and Y/N could feel her friend’s gaze on her, like she was waiting for something. Finally she spoke again, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant,

“Y/N, I… I called your parents.”

...

She froze. Her breath caught in her throat, and her head jerked toward Sarah as the shock hit her,

“What?” she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of confusion and rising anger.

“Why the fuck would you do that?”

Sarah flinched at her sudden outburst, but she didn’t pull back. She looked at Y/N, her expression a mixture of concern and understanding.

“They deserve to know, Y/N… you’re their only child. They need to know what happened.”

Y/N couldn’t comprehend it. Her parents were miles away, on a business trip, and the last thing she wanted was them to find out about this. She felt a sickening knot form in her stomach, her chest tightening even more. “No, Sarah. No.” Her voice broke, thick with a mix of fear and rage.

“Why couldn’t you just leave it? I don’t want them to know. I can’t have them knowing what happened-”

Her voice cracked as she trailed off, her eyes returning to the bedspread, her hands gripping the fabric of the hospital gown as though it could hold her together. Sarah didn’t press her further, but all Y/N felt was shame.

Deep, overwhelming shame.

Shame that she wasn’t able to protect herself, shame that someone had hurt her so violently, and now, even worse, that her parents would have to find out. They’d been away, living their busy lives, not knowing the horror their daughter had endured. Y/N’s vision blurred as her tears began to fall, quietly, silently. She wasn’t even aware of them at first until the cold wetness hit her cheeks. The shame was unbearable, her shoulders shook slightly as her body began to tremble again, the pain of it all seeping through every inch of her.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, the words escaping before she could stop them, “I’m so sorry I yelled at you.”

“Y/N,” Sarah’s voice was soft, trying to soothe her, trying to offer any kind of comfort. She gently placed a hand on Y/N’s arm, her touch warm.

“It’s okay you don’t need to apologise. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

But Y/N couldn’t believe that. How could she not have done something wrong? Her mind screamed at her, telling her that she should have fought harder, should have screamed louder, should have somehow stopped what had happened. She didn’t want her parents to know, but a part of her knew that she had to face it. They deserved to know. But the fear- the fear of their disappointment, their anger at tainting the family name- was too much to bear.

“I’m scared Sarah.”

Y/N whispered, barely audible. Sarah’s fingers gently squeezed her arm in reassurance. “We’ll get through this, okay? One step at a time, I promise.”

But even as Sarah said those words, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that she was alone. Alone in this hospital bed, with everything she had endured, with everything that was about to happen. She sat quietly in the hospital room, the weight of the hours passing pressing heavily on her chest. Nurses would come in and out of the room, asking her how she felt, talking to Sarah, checking her vitals, but her thoughts were scattered, her mind in a haze. Sarah sat next to her, quietly trying to comfort her, but Y/N couldn’t fully engage with her because her thoughts kept drifting back to memories of the night- of what she could’ve, what she should’ve done differently.

Get me out of here

She was snapped out of her thoughts when she heard the door open. Her heart dropped, as she looked up to see her parents standing in the doorway. Y/N’s mother, her perfectly done hair trench coat buttoned up to the top, looked as if she were about to burst into the room with the composure of someone who had rehearsed the scene in her mind. Y/N’s father followed behind her, his stern expression softening when his eyes landed on his daughter.

“Y/n”

Her mother said, her voice strained and much too formal. Y/n didn’t miss the way her mother took in the state of her, her eyes scanning the room quickly before locking onto her daughter. There was concern there, but also something else, something distant. Y/N felt her anger welling up, a bubbling knot in her throat. Sarah stood up, giving her space but staying lingering by the doorway, close enough to offer support. The silence between them was thick, her father stepped forward, placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, offering a silent comfort but she shivered at the feeling on his hand on her skin. His voice was gentle as he spoke,

“My sweet girl.” Her father leant down, softly placing a kiss on her forehead, his voice low and reassuring.

“Whatever you need, we’ll help you through this.”

Her mother, though less expressive, sat beside her on the bed. She reached out, placing her hand on Y/N’s wrist in an attempt at comfort. It was a gesture that felt stiff, like she didn’t quite know how to be vulnerable with her own daughter.

“I’m so sorry this... happened.” her mother said, her voice wavering slightly.

“We’ll make sure you’re taken care of, I spoke to the nurse about moving you to a more… secluded room.”

As much as Y/N wanted to accept their comfort, the weight of what had happened was still clouding her mind. However her misery was forced down by a bitter feeling of hatred, of anger, of irritation that she was now stuck with this burden leering over her. She took a shaky breath, then spoke with quiet determination, her voice thick with emotion, her words falling into the silence of the room

“I want to press charges.”

Her father’s expression softened, and he nodded in agreement, “Of course Y/N, whatever you want.” His hand smoothed over her hair delicately as he looked down at the girl, a small smile on her face, Y/N felt a flicker of relief at his words. But then her mother spoke, her tone skeptical and weary as she pulled her hand away from the girl and stood up, straightening her coat,

“Is that really the best idea, Y/N?”

Her voice lacked the softness her father’s had, and Y/N’s heart sank as she looked at her mother.

“W-what do you mean?”

Y/N asked, confused. Her mother’s gaze was distant, avoiding her eyes. Her mother spoke, her tone a bit too controlled, too measured,

“It’s just… you pressing charges will cause all this public attention. The media will make a circus of it. Do you really want the whole island knowing about this.”

Her mother’s words hit Y/N like a slap. She blinked, staring at her mother, unable to process the implications of what she was saying. “What… what do you mean?” Y/N repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You want me to just… let him get away with it?”

Her mother sighed, a long, heavy sound. “I just think it would be better if we kept this quiet. The less people know, the better. No one needs to know about this. We can handle it… privately.”

“Marie-”

Who are you?

Her father spoke out looking at his wife with a displeased expression across his face. Y/N’s heart started to pound in her chest. She shook her head in disbelief, she had never expected this reaction from her mother,

“Are you serious? You want to cover this up?”

The words felt like acid in her mouth. Her mother’s eyes hardened, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“I’m not saying it didn’t happen don't put false words into my mouth Y/N, I’m just saying… we need to think about the bigger picture here. Our family’s reputation, your future… This could ruin everything.”

Y/N felt as if the room was spinning. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her mother was more concerned about the family’s image than about her daughter’s pain and suffering. The hurt and anger surged up in her chest, threatening to overtake her.

“Are you kidding me?” Y/N muttered, tears welling up again. “You’re more worried about how this will look than about what happened to me?”

Her mother stiffened but didn’t respond right away, her gaze flicking to her father, as if searching for some sort of support but his eyes were already looking at his wife, narrowed slightly. Y/N could feel the distance between them widening, her own mother now a stranger in her eyes. Then, through the rising tension, Y/N spoke, quieter now, her voice small,

“Do you even like me?”

Her words hung in the air, fragile, desperate for an answer. Her mother paused, the words seemingly caught in her throat. After a long silence, she hesitated before speaking.

“Of course I love you,” she replied, but her voice lacked the certainty Y/N had hoped for.

“But do you like me?” Y/N pressed, her voice trembling with the weight of her emotions.

Her mother exhaled sharply, clearly unsure of how to respond. “I… I want what’s best for you, Y/N.”

No you don't

The room fell silent once more. Y/N felt a sting in her chest, her heart aching as the reality of her mother’s words sunk in. She didn’t have the strength to argue, her father, sensing the tension, stepped in.

“We’ll talk about this later. Right now, let’s focus on getting better, yes?”

Y/N didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Her body felt heavy, like every ounce of energy had been drained from her. Her anger was still there, but it was buried beneath the overwhelming sadness that had taken root.

She turned her gaze away from her mother as the woman walked out the room, looking at the window instead, as if trying to escape the four walls of the room she found herself stuck in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rafe’s palm rested against the cool brick wall, his fingers clenching the phone tightly, his heart pounding against his ribs. He didn’t know what to expect next, but there was one thing he couldn’t let go of, one person he needed to reach.

I need to talk to her

His eyes darted to the clock on the wall. It'd been hours since he'd been taken in to the precinct and he had no clue if she was okay, if they'd cleaned her up, helped calm her down. The last thing he remembered was her panicked eyes before he got into the police car, Shoupe roughly shutting the doors behind him. Yet most importantly, he didn't even know if she wanted to speak to him, would she refuse to take the call, what if he couldn't hear her voice from the other side of the phone.

“C’mon”

He muttered under his breath as he dialled Sarah’s number, his voice shaking with frustration. The sound of the dial tone rang in his ear, followed by the faint click of the line connecting. After a few moments, Sarah’s voice answered,

“Rafe?” Her tone was laced with concern, “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

He swallowed hard, “They’re arresting me Sarah. I don’t know how long I’ll be here-” His words rushed out, "-just give the phone to Y/N, I need to talk to her.”

There was a slight pause before Sarah responded, her voice soft and understanding. “Yeah, yeah okay...”

He heard the rustling of the phone being handed off, then a soft, shaky breath. The sound of Y/N’s voice was all he needed to hear. It cut through the haze, grounding him.

“Rafe?”

Thank God

“Yeah, it’s me,” he replied, his tone soothing, though he could feel the knot in his chest. “I’m at the station, they’re holding me but I’ll be out soon.”

Y/N paused before responding, her voice firm despite the tremor in it. “Are you alright? Are your knuckles okay? I remember they were bleeding.”

Always so observant

Rafe felt his chest tighten at the question. He’d forgotten about the pain in his hand, but hearing her bring it up made his heart stutter, reminding him of times when she would patch him up after things escalated at the boneyard.

“I’m fine, they’re not bad just bruised up, nothing I can’t handle.”

She wasn’t convinced but let out a small hum of acknowledgement. The question was burning in her but she hesitated, unsure if she should say it, her voice was tense as she spoke out,

“Has... has he pressed charges?”

The question hung in the air, and Rafe swallowed hard, his thoughts racing. “No, he hasn’t pressed charges yet. But I’ll make sure we do what’s right for you, okay? I’m just… I’ll be okay, don't worry about me alright- are you okay?”

Y/N paused, the questions weighing heavily on her.

I don't know...

“I'm fine, Rafe. I’m just… trying to figure out what to do. I’m worried about you, I don’t want you to stay there.”

Rafe’s heart ached. “I’m not going anywhere. Just stay strong for me, yeah? I’ll be out of here soon.” He knew the girl was lying, no one would be okay after experiencing what she did, but deep down he knew she was saying so not to worry him further.

“Y/n” He sighed, hand thumping against the wall in front of him, unsure if he should ask her this now, but he needed to know.

“Are you going to press charges against Cooper?”

Y/N’s silence spoke volumes. Rafe knew she was processing everything, trying to figure out what was right. He waited for her to respond, his heart pounding in his chest, he didn’t want to push her but the time on the phone call was running out. Finally, she spoke softly.

“I don’t know, Rafe. I… I don’t know what’s best.”

Rafe clenched his jaw, frustrated with how helpless he felt. “Whatever you decide, I’ll… -I’ll stand by you, no matter what you choose.”

Y/N took a shaky breath, her tone still steady but full of worry. “Just be careful, Rafe, don’t do anything stupid please.”

“I’ll be careful,” he promised, a soft chuckle escaping him at her concern. “But you’re my priority, yeah? You need to focus on yourself right now. I’ll handle this.”

“I just… I don’t want you to get hurt,” she replied, her voice soft.

I care about you

“I know, I- I won’t. I promise.”

They shared a quiet moment over the phone, both of them trying to find comfort in each other’s words, even though the situation was anything but comforting. As the conversation started to wind down and the phone was passed back to Sarah, Rafe’s voice became more urgent. “Hey, Sarah?” he said, his tone firm but still laced with the stress of the situation.

“This was my one call, so you need to call dad and tell him to come down and get me the hell out of here, I don’t care how, just- I need to get out okay?”

There was a slight pause on the other end of the line before Sarah responded standing from the chair near Y/n's bed and walking over to the window of the room, her voice lower now, not wanting to alert the girl,

“Yeah, I’ll call him,” she said, her tone resigned, “don’t worry, he’ll get you out.”

Rafe exhaled a shaky breath, relief and frustration mixing in his chest. “Thanks.”

“Just… hang in there.”

He let out a small sigh before speaking again, softer this time. “Tell Y/N I’ll be out soon, I don’t want her worrying about me, she doesn’t need that shit.”

“ 'course,” Sarah said, her voice softening at the mention of the girl. Sarah paused, and when she spoke again, her tone softened slightly,

“You know Dad will come through.”

He took a moment, her words sinking in. For the first time, he let himself lean into the comfort of her confidence, even if just a little. But it didn’t erase the gnawing feeling in his stomach.

“Yeah.. this whole thing… it’s just so fucked up.” He tried to keep his voice steady, but it faltered slightly.

“I know, Rafe,” she said, her voice softening with a touch of concern, “but you did the right thing- well maybe not entirely but you kept her safe.”

Rafe sighed again, hand rubbing over his face as more out of frustration than anything else. The phone beeped indicating his time was coming to an end, he muttered out,

“Yeah, well, I don’t think anyone sees it that way,”

“I’ll take care of it. Just don't do anything stupid, dad’s coming.”

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, his gaze fixed on the floor. “I’m waiting.”

The phone call ended with a quiet click, and Rafe leaned back against the wall, his mind racing. He didn’t know what was going to happen next, but no matter the cost, he’d make sure that that nobody ever placed their hands on his girl again.

Get me the fuck out of here

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The adults were deep in conversation, their voices rising and falling in heated debate over the next steps. Marie and Ward seemed to be clashing again, Andrew attempting to mediate, while Rose sat quietly, interjecting with the occasional remark. The legal jargon and logistics were swirling around Y/N like a cloud, but she wasn’t listening anymore.

She had moved from the couch to the window, the noise behind her fading into a dull hum as she stared out at the darkened sky, palm trees dancing in the growing wind. The faint reflection of the room in the glass showed her parents gesturing animatedly, but she couldn’t focus. Her arms wrapped around her body instinctively, trying to hold herself together. It had been a week since she’d been discharged from the hospital, Ward had gotten Rafe out of jail, although at a high price, and it was clear that Cooper’s family was anything but pleased at the Sheriff's actions. Now, both families were collected at Tannyhill, debating what they were going to do with the situation at hand.

“Hey.”

The low voice startled her, and she turned to see Rafe standing a step away, his expression soft. “You okay?” he asked gently, his hand reaching out to touch her arm.

She flinched. It wasn’t dramatic, just a slight jerk of her body, but it was enough for him to notice. His brows furrowed, and he quickly pulled his hand back, letting it drop to his side.

“Sorry,” he murmured, taking a step closer but keeping his distance.

“No, I’m-” Y/N cleared her throat, trying to steady her voice. “I’m fine. Really.”

But Rafe could see through her words. He glanced over his shoulder to ensure the others were still distracted before returning his focus to her.

“You don’t have to be fine Y/n...”

Y/N shook her head, her gaze dropping to the floor. “I just-” She hesitated, her voice cracking slightly. “I just want to make sure Cooper gets what he deserves, I want him in jail. I want him...”

I want him dead

Rafe studied her for a long moment. “You’re right,” he said finally. “He does deserve that but this,” He looked faintly to the room, to the chaos of discussions and decisions swirling around them. “this is a lot, Y/N, for anyone.” He hesitated, running a hand through his hair.

“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”

Does he think I'm weak?

Her jaw tightened, and she looked up at him her eye's narrowing slightly, “I can handle it.”

He didn’t argue. Instead, he nodded slowly, his voice calm. “Okay, just… don't push yourself too far, too fast. Whatever happens, I’m here alright?”

She blinked at him, her irritation at him faltering, “Thanks,” she whispered.

“Always.”

They stood there for a moment in silence, the tension in her body softening under the weight of his steady presence. Behind them, the voices of their families carried on, oblivious to the quiet moment by the window. Their relationship was rather bizarre. Of course both of them knew there was a distance between them, the event’s of Y/n’s party had not gone forgotten, however the girl was less hostile towards the brunette, her gaze often staying on him a second too long so he’d catch her eye. But she wasn’t ready for things to go back to normal between them, just because he’d… intervened on the night of halloween did not mean she’d forgiven him, not fully anyways; his words would sometimes linger in the back of her mind and after what had happened she couldn't help but think they were true.

The room was tense, the air thick with unspoken anxieties, Y/N sat on the couch, her legs curled under her, as Sarah perched beside her, offering silent support. Across the room, Ward paced restlessly, his powerful presence dominating the space. Rafe stood against the wall, his bruised knuckles wrapped in gauze, a storm of emotions brewing just beneath the surface. Rose, sat with her hands clasped in her lap, her serene demeanour masking the tension she felt, Marie mirroring her expression. However Andrew, Y/N’s father, exchanged worried glances at the young girl on the couch, as though silently debating how far they should push his daughter on such a delicate subject.

“This isn’t just about what happens next,” Ward said, breaking the silence. “We need to think about the bigger picture. Rafe’s already been charged with assault, and if this goes to trial, it won’t just be about him. It’s going to pull Y/N into the spotlight too.”

Y/N straightened slightly her voice soft, “Because of what Cooper- did…?”

Ward hesitated before nodding. “Yes. That’s going to come out, whether you’re ready for it or not,” his eyes looked at the girl as he spoke out, yet she had to avert her gaze, looking away, feeling oppressed by the man's cold stare.

“She’s not the one who did anything wrong,”

Rafe snapped, his voice sharp as he noticed his father's gaze at the girl, “Why does it matter if it comes out?”

“It shouldn’t matter,” Sarah interjected, her voice rising slightly as she fiddled with the blanket placed between her and Y/n, “but you know how people are, they’ll twist it into something it’s not.”

Andrew leaned forward, addressing Ward directly. “So what are you saying? That Rafe shouldn’t fight this? That he should plead guilty?”

“Of course not,” Ward said with a scoff, halting his pacing.

God forbid someone stains the Cameron name

“But we need to be strategic. If Y/N presses charges, it could complicate Rafe’s case. They’ll try to paint him as an angry kid looking for a fight.”

“That’s not what happened,” Y/N said, her voice wavering as she looked at Ward shaking her head with a small frown, “he was protecting me.”

Rafe’s heart clenched at the girl’s words, his eyes finding hers amongst the uneasiness of the room. Ward sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know. We know. But the court doesn’t always care about the truth. They care about what they can prove and how it looks to a jury.”

“Why are you all acting like I was in the fucking wrong”

Rafe said angrily, stepping forward as he gestured around to the parents at the table. Rose spoke for the first time, her voice gentle.

“Rafe, no one is questioning why you did what you did. But the law can be difficult.”

“So, what are you suggesting?” Y/N asked, looking directly at Ward. “That I shouldn’t press charges because it might hurt Rafe’s case?”

“No,” Ward said firmly. “I’m saying we need to think carefully about how we handle this. Your testimony could help Rafe, but it could also backfire if they twist it the wrong way.”

Andrew nodded. “He’s right. If we’re going to fight this, we need to be ready for anything Cooper’s lawyers throw at us, and considering their family deals with law I suspect they've already started planning.”

Marie, who had been quiet until now, glanced at her daughter, her lips pressing into a thin line. She rose from where she sat walking over to her daughter placing her hand on the girl's shoulder as she asked,

“Y/N, maybe… maybe we should handle this quietly hmm? I know it’s not what you want to hear, but think about how much worse it could get if it goes public.”

Seriously?

Rafe's brows pulled down into a frown at the older woman's words, Y/N stared at her mother in disbelief. “Are you saying I should just let this go?”

Marie sighed, tightening her grip slightly. “I’m saying… it might be better to keep this private. No one needs to know.”

“No one needs to know?” Y/N repeated, her voice rising. “He- He assaulted me. He-"

Don't say it-

"Either way if no one does anything, he’s just going to do it again, if not to me then to someone else.”

Rafe moved closer, his voice low and full of conviction. “She’s right he deserves worse.”

Ward looked at Rafe sharply. “Justice isn’t always that simple. You know that well enou-"

"Okay!"

Sarah leaned forward, her hands resting on Y/N’s knee. “Can we just stop acting like this is a chess game? Y/N deserves to make her decision without feeling guilty about how it affects Rafe’s case.”

Rose nodded in agreement. “Sarah’s right. We can support both of them. We just need to make sure we’re all on the same page.”

Y/N turned to Rafe, her voice soft but steady. “Have you thought about what’s next for you- I mean, with Cooper pressing charges...”

Rafe hesitated, glancing at his father. “Yeah. I talked to the lawyer this morning. They’re saying it depends on what Cooper’s camp does. If they push for jail time…” He trailed off, jaw tightening.

Ward finished for him. “They’re pushing for jail time. Cooper’s family has money, connections from New York. They’re not going to let this go easily.”

Y/N’s hands balled into fists on her lap as she looked down at them, Andrew's worried gaze darted to his daughter as his wife's voice spoke up,

“Y/N, you don’t understand how this works. If you press charges, they’re going to drag you through the mud to defend Cooper and they’ll use Rafe’s case to make you both look bad.”

Is she always this much of a bitch-

Andrew reached for his daughter’s hand, his voice calm but firm. “Sweetheart, if you’re sure you want to press charges, we’ll stand by you. But you need to be ready for what’s coming.”

Y/N met her father’s steady gaze, a small frown on her face. “I am ready.”

Ward looked at Rafe, his arms crossed as he leaned back against the table, “And you need to be prepared too. Cooper’s lawyers are going to argue that you acted out of rage, not defense. I’ll talk to the Thorton's about it, see if they can help in court.”

Marie leaned forward, her voice softer now. “Y/N, are you sure you want to go through with this? It’s not just about Cooper. It’s about everything that comes after…”

Y/N’s hands trembled, but her voice didn’t waver. “I’m sure, I’m not going to let him win.”

The room fell silent, the weight of the decision settling over them.

Ward nodded, his voice firm. “Then we fight for both of you. No hesitation.”

Y/N looked at Rafe, and he looked back, their mutual understanding unspoken but clear. They were in this together whether they liked it or not, no matter how messy it got.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The house was quiet again after the tension of the family meeting. The echoes of Ward’s commanding voice and Marie’s sharp tones seemed to linger in the air the voice’s heard from the nearby office, but now it was just Rafe and Y/N sitting on the couch. The dim light of the living room lamp cast long shadows across their faces, and the weight of everything unsaid hung heavily between them. Rafe leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together tightly. He’d been quiet ever since their parents left, staring at the floor like it held answers to questions he couldn’t answer. Y/N sat next to him, her knees tucked under her, fingers nervously picking at a loose thread on the blanket she held in her lap. Finally, she broke the silence.

“Are you okay?” her voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

What?

Rafe scoffed lightly, shaking his head. “You’re the one asking if I’m okay?” He glanced at her, his blue eyes tired but sincere.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Probably

“I mean… yeah,” she said, hesitating. “But… I don’t know. You’ve got so much going on with… everything.”

“So do you,” he countered quickly, leaning back and crossing his arms. “You shouldn’t be worrying about me right now.” He stopped, exhaling sharply, trying to control the frustration he felt, not at her, but at everything else. Y/N looked to him, her voice firmer this time.

“Rafe I mean it, are you okay?”

He let the question hang in the air for a moment before answering. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’m so pissed. I’m pissed at Cooper, at the cops, at my dad for acting like he can buy his way out of this.” His hand hit softly against the edge of the couch as he spoke, he glanced at her again, his jaw tight. “I’m pissed at myself for not finding you sooner, for-” His voice faltered, and he looked away, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

Get your shit together

“Rafe,” she said softly, hand moving slightly closer to his which now rested against the cushion of the couch between them. “It’s not your fault, c’mon don’t do this to yourself.” She shook her head slightly as the words passed her lips.

“You don’t know that,” he muttered, not looking at her.

“I do,” she said firmly. “You didn’t do anything wrong, you- you were protecting me.”

You saved my life what if he-

“And now Cooper’s trying to fucking flip this, like I’m the bad guy?”

He sighed, leaning forward again as he pointed his fingers into his chest angrily before he rubbed a hand over his face.

“And you pressing charges against him- it’s the right thing to do, but… it’s going to cause so many problems. They’re going to try to twist everything around and make it look like it wasn’t what it was; they’re gonna talk about you but you don't deserve that shit.”

Her eye’s flickered over the boy, noticing his leg moving restlessly, jaw clenched. “I don’t care what they try to do,” she said, her voice shaking with conviction. “We’re not going to let him get away with it.”

Rafe turned to look at her, his gaze searching hers. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

“...no” she admitted. “I don’t think I ever will be, but if I don’t… who else is going to stand up to him?” She looked down at her lap, her voice quieter now.

“I’m scared, but I’m more scared of him doing this to someone else. I can’t live with that… knowing I could’ve prevented it.”

He looked at her, taking in the bruises wrapped around her neck, now a deep purple. He looked down to her hand, wrist tainted in the same coloring, a mocking reminder of what had happened. His hand moved forward slightly, fingers resting inches away from hers.

“You’re braver than I am, you know?”

No I'm not

She shook her head, a small, sad smile on her lips. They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of everything they were facing pressing down on them. Finally, Y/N looked up at him,

“We’re going to figure this out, right?”

“Yeah we will, no matter what.”

Rafe nodded, though his expression was still somber. As they sat together in the dimly lit room, the sound of the wind rattling the windows outside, Y/N realized something: for the first time in days, she didn’t feel completely alone. The silence stretched between her and Rafe, heavy but not uncomfortable- just the weight of everything they’d been through present upon both their shoulders.

Rafe shifted slightly, his hand still resting near hers, he had the undeniable urge to take her hand in his but he couldn’t bring himself to do so, he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. He already was overcome with relief every time she spoke to him, thanking whatever higher power that she would look at him rather than shut him out.

I don't deserved it.

His jaw tightened, like he was working up the courage to say something, but nothing came. Y/N glanced at him, noticing the way his gaze lingered on the floor, the corners of his mouth downturned. The memory of their last real conversation- the one before Cooper, before everything else that had happened- suddenly pushed its way into her mind. The words she’d said, the way his voice had cut through her like glass, it all replayed vividly. Those two months that she had spent away from him were agony, and she wished it had never come to that. She blinked rapidly, her vision blurring, before she finally broke the silence.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Rafe looked up sharply, his brows drawing together in confusion as he noticed the tears collecting on her lower lashes.

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” she said again, louder this time, though her voice still cracked. Tears welled up in her eyes as she forced herself to meet his gaze.

“For what I said to you that night for—” Her breath hitched as she fought to keep her composure. “For calling you a junkie I shouldn’t have… that wasn’t fair.”

Rafe’s face softened instantly, the lines of tension around his mouth easing. He opened his mouth to respond, but Y/N kept going.

“-and for slapping you,” she added, a tear slipping down her cheek. “I shouldn’t have, I never should’ve done that it was disgus-”

“Stop,” Rafe interrupted gently, shaking his head. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do,” she insisted. “I was angry, I was so, so angry and I took it out on you but I shouldn’t have said that. I just… I didn’t know how else to handle it. Seeing you in his room…”

She trailed off, biting her lip to stop it from trembling, her hand coming up to wipe the tear off her skin. Rafe’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “You weren’t wrong,” he said quietly, his voice rough.

“I shouldn’t have been there. I shouldn’t have been doing that. And I… I shouldn’t have called you what I did.” He exhaled shakily, as he turned his body to face her properly now, “That was so fucked up Y/n, and I hate that I said it I don’t even know where the words came from I- you didn’t deserve that.”

Y/N blinked at him, her tears spilling freely now. She said softly,

“You meant it though-”

“-no, no I didn’t.”

Rafe said quickly, his voice firm. He frantically pushed his hair out of his face shaking his head at her,

“I didn’t. I was angry and so fucking stupid, and I wanted to hurt you because… because you were right. If you think that’s what I think of you I- I would be a fucking fool to think that of you…”

Her breath hitched at his honesty, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

“I’m sorry”

He said again, his voice breaking. His eyes were glossy now too, his usual bravado stripped away.

“For everything. For that night, it was…- it was your fucking birthday and I just- I’m so sorry and-”

Rafe shifted beside her, his jaw tight, his hands fidgeting in his lap. Y/N watched him for a moment, her heart constricting at the tension in his features.

“What I said about your brother I-”

The memory made her chest ache, she looked away shaking her head slowly the air was thick with the debris of unspoken emotions. She didn’t know why, but suddenly she was back in her brother’s room, Rafe’s words from that night slicing through her mind. He exhaled slowly, his shoulders dropping slightly.

“Y/N…please look at me…”

Please, please-

Her voice was trembling as it rose from her throat, “Seeing you in his room- doing coke- it just…” She broke off, shaking her head as tears slipped down her cheeks. “I couldn’t handle it and…”

She couldn’t find her voice to finish the sentence, her hand rising to her face once again to wipe the salt water off her cheeks. Rafe was silent for a moment, his throat tightening.

“You had every right to be mad,” he said finally, his voice rough. “I shouldn’t have been in there- I shouldn’t have been doing that. I- I shouldn’t have said what I said to you.”

Y/N lifted her head, her tear-streaked face meeting his regretful gaze. “You told me to get over it,” she said softly, her voice shaking.

“...that I should just forget about him.”

Guilt flashed across his face. “I know,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know I said that, and I didn’t mean it. I just…I was hurt because you were with-... It doesn’t matter but I wanted to hurt you too and I know it was a petty thing to do...” He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration with himself evident.

“I was being selfish.”

Tears streamed down Y/N’s face now, but she didn’t bother to wipe them away. “It felt like everything you’d ever said to me about him was a lie. After he died, Rafe you were the only one I would go to, it felt like.. It felt like you didn’t mean any of it like- like none of it was true” She trailed off, shaking her head as she struggled to put her feelings into words as she pursed her lips together.

“That room is all I have left of him. And you just… how could you do that to me Rafe?”

“I know, I know- ”

Rafe said again, his voice breaking. “I was an asshole, and I hate that I said that to you, I hate that I hurt you I-” He stopped letting out a breath, he could feel the lump growing in his throat as he spoke,

“I’ve never regretted anything more in my life than what I did. Those two months we were apart, not a day went by where I didn’t feel guilty about what I said… I- I’ve never been so miserable-”

A soft sniffle cut through the air, and Y/N’s eyes flicked up from the floor to meet his. Her breath caught in her throat. Rafe’s eyes were bloodshot, glistening with tears that slipped freely down his flushed cheeks. His chest rising and falling with uneven breaths, and his hand gripped the back of the couch like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. His other hand came up, roughly swiping at his tears, but more fell, relentless.

“I was so- fuck. I was so alone and I lo- I care about you so much I’m so sorry-”

His voice shattered, and he dropped his head forward, the palms of his hands came up roughly to rub his eyes as the sobs broke free, raw and unfiltered. His entire body shook with the weight of it, like he couldn’t hold it in anymore. Y/N stared at him, her heart twisting painfully in her chest. She’d never seen him like this- so vulnerable.

What are you doing man up fucking man up

It made something inside her crack.

Slowly, she shifted forward, inching closer to him. Her hands trembled at her sides, the feeling of fear, terror of someone touching her, of touching someone, it still clung to her, making her hesitate, but the sight of him crumbling in front of her pulled her forward.

It's okay, it's just Rafe he'd never do anything to you

Her hand reached out, hovering in the air, uncertain, before she gently placed it on his arm. The contact was featherlight, almost unsure, but it was enough. Rafe’s head lifted slightly, his tear-filled eyes locking onto hers in surprise.

She gave him a small, fragile smile- barely there, but it was something, and that was all he needed.

Rafe blinked, and without thinking, she moved closer, her arms slowly wrapping around him. Her heart pounded in her chest, loud and anxious, but she didn’t let go. She pressed herself into him, holding him tightly, and for a moment, Rafe froze. Then, carefully, his arms came around her. He pulled her in, holding her like she was the only thing keeping him afloat. His chin rested on the top of her head, and he let out a broken breath, his body still trembling.

“I’ll never- ever- do that to you again,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice shaking. “I’m so sorry- I’m so fucking sorry.”

I love you

Tears welled in Y/N’s eyes, spilling over as she held him tighter. “It’s okay,” she whispered back, her voice barely audible. Rafe’s arms tightened around her, but his hold was careful- gentle in a way that made Y/N’s chest ache. His hand moved slowly, fingers smoothing over her hair with a tenderness that made her eyes sting.

“I’ve missed you so much”

He breathed out, his voice hoarse and uneven, barely holding together. Y/N’s grip on him faltered for a second, her heart thudding in her chest. For the first time since halloween, someone’s touch didn’t feel threatening. It didn’t feel wrong. She let out a shaky breath, her body slowly starting to relax into him.

“I’ve missed you too”

She whispered, the words fragile but honest. Rafe let out a soft, broken sound- half sigh, half sob- and tucked her closer, like he still couldn’t believe she was in his arms, he never thought it would happen again. His hand continued its slow, calming path through her hair, grounding both of them.

“I swear I’ll- I’ll never hurt you like that again.”

I love you so fucking much

He murmured, his voice cracking. Y/N closed her eyes, pressing her face into his shoulder as she let out a quiet hum. Neither of them moved to let go, they stayed locked in that quiet, fragile moment, holding onto each other as if letting go would shatter them both.

"Y/n I lo-"

A knock at the door startled both of them.

Y/N’s head snapped up as she instinctively moved away from Rafe, body tense again. Her fingers twisted in the hem of her hoodie, and her eyes darted toward the door like it might burst open on its own. Rafe noticed immediately.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and steady as he reached for her hand. “You’re safe yeah, It’s probably just Sarah or Wheezie.”

She nodded but didn’t look entirely convinced, her nerves still on edge. He squeezed her hand once before letting go and heading for the door, eyes flickering back to the girl who remained on the couch. When he opened it, a familiar voice filled the quiet space.

“Did someone order a party?”

It was Kelce, grinning like he owned the place, holding a cake box in one hand and a grocery bag in the other. Topper stood behind him, awkwardly clutching a bouquet of slightly wilted flowers, clearly unsure what to do with them.

“Jesus,” Rafe muttered, his voice slightly hoarse as he wiped his face quickly off any tears left on his cheeks, “What are you guys doing here?”

Kelce pushed past him into the house, offering the cake out like a peace offering. “We figured you two could use a little cheering up, s’been a rough week. Cake makes everything better, right?”

Y/N appeared in the doorway of the living room after hearing the boys’ voices, her nervousness giving way to curiosity. She looked at the bouquet in Topper’s hand, then up at him, a small flicker of a smile tugging at her lips.

“Flowers?”

Topper shrugged, looking sheepish. “I panicked. They were next to the bakery.”

“Nice touch,” Rafe said dryly, shutting the door behind them. Kelce held up the box like it was a prized trophy.

“Chocolate cake aaannnnnd, because we’re such thoughtful friends, beer for me and Topper- ” He pulled something from the grocery bag, holding it out to Rafe. “-some bandages for your beat-up knuckles.”

Rafe stared at the box of bandages and rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. “You guys are idiots.”

“You’re welcome,” Kelce said, completely unfazed.

Y/N stepped forward hesitantly, her arms crossed protectively over her chest. “You didn’t have to do this.” Her eye’s flickered over everything they’d started taking out on the kitchen table.

Are those hello kitty band-aids?

“Of course we did,” Topper said, setting the flowers on the counter. “You’ve both had a tough week so consider this… a friendship intervention?”

Kelce set the cake on the table and began rummaging through drawers, searching for plates. “We’re not saying cake and beer will solve all your problems, but hey, it’s a start.”

Y/N let herself lean against one of the stools by the island, a real, albeit small, smile forming on her lips as she watched the two boys bicker over who got the bigger slice of cake. Rafe leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed, observing the scene. His eyes flicked to Y/N, who caught him watching and gave him a shy smile.

“Feeling better?” he asked softly, just for her to hear.

She nodded. “A little.”

“Good,” he said, his voice carrying a warmth that matched the moment. “Because apparently they’re not leaving until we ‘eat that damn cake’.”

Y/N laughed—a light, genuine sound that made both Topper and Kelce look up in surprise. “Hey, if you’re laughing,” Kelce declared, pointing his fork at her, “then we’re doing our job right.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of easy conversation, a brief reprieve from the storm they all knew was still brewing. For a little while, it was just friends and cake, and Y/n found herself forgetting about the events of the past couple of weeks.

Topper managed to pull up a movie on the TV, one they had all watched together countless times when they were kids. The flickering title screen of an old animated film illuminated the room, and the familiar opening music filled the space. Y/N looked at the screen for a second, her lips curving slightly at the sight of something so familiar and comforting;

“I forgot about this movie,” she said softly.

“Yeah, we used to watch it all the time at my place, right?” Kelce chimed in, sitting down with his slice of cake. Y/N let out a soft giggle, a hint of nostalgia in her voice.

“You’d always eat all the Twizzlers before the movie and end up falling asleep halfway through.”

“Hey, I was a growing boy!” Kelce protested, but there was no real heat behind his words.

“Yeah, well, it was more like a sugar coma,”

Rafe teased from the other side of the room, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. Topper leaned back on the couch with a sigh, his eyes focused on the screen but his mind clearly drifting.

“I remember watching this with you guys, like, what? Ten years ago? I don’t think we really appreciated how good we had it back then.”

Y/N’s smile faltered for just a moment, the weight of everything that had happened creeping back into her thoughts. She shook her head slightly, trying to push the darkness aside. “Yeah, things were so easy…” she said, her voice quiet. Rafe glanced at her from across the room, his expression softening.

Don't do that

“It wasn’t all easy,” he said quietly, his eyes on the TV but his mind on the past, “Remember the time we got stuck in Topper’s treehouse after you dared me to climb it without the ladder and I broke my arm?”

Y/N laughed despite herself, the sound light and genuine. “I never made you climb it. You insisted on it, and then-” She paused for effect. “-you screamed like a girl when you fell.”

“That’s because it fucking hurt, Y/N,” Rafe shot back, rolling his eyes but clearly amused. “And I was eight, so sue me.”

“Yeah, yeah, we all know Rafe was a pussy from an early age,” Topper chimed in with a grin. “But I gotta admit, that was pretty funny.”

Y/N snickered, shaking her head as she leaned back into the couch. “You guys were a mess, honestly. All I did was watch.”

“Liar,” Rafe said, raising an eyebrow at her. “You used to egg us on.”

“Okay, maybe a little,” she said, her eyes softening as she glanced at him.

“Good times.” Topper added, shaking his head.

Y/N smiled faintly. “Good times,” she agreed, her voice wistful.

The room settled into a comfortable silence as the movie continued to play, and as the night wore on, the group grew more relaxed. The movie had long since become background noise, with everyone scattered around the room. Topper and Kelce were sprawled out on the other couch, barely paying attention to the screen as they were more focused on the conversation that was slowly developing between Rafe and Y/N.

Y/N’s feet were comfortably resting next to Rafe’s lap, her body slumped into the couch as exhaustion from the past few days started to settle in. It had been an emotional rollercoaster, but right now, in this peaceful moment, she felt safe. Rafe absentmindedly rested his hand on her foot, his touch comforting and steady. Kelce, catching sight of their proximity, exchanged a knowing look with Topper. They were both silent for a beat, as if contemplating whether to ask the question hanging in the air. Finally, Topper broke the silence with a raised eyebrow.

“So…” He gave a small grin. “We didn’t want to ask before, but are you two, good now? I mean, last time we checked, it was a bit…”

Rafe and Y/N exchanged glances. She couldn’t help but smile, a warmth blossoming in her chest at the question. Rafe returned her gaze, his expression softening as he squeezed her foot gently, a silent reassurance.

“We’re good,” Rafe said, his voice steady, though there was a hint of relief in it as he glanced down at Y/N, giving her a quiet smile. Y/N nodded slowly, her lips curving upward humming back in agreement. Kelce raised an eyebrow but didn’t press any further, exchanging a knowing glance with Topper.

“Well, good,” Kelce said, his tone light but with an edge of relief. “About time, right?”

Smug assholes

Topper smiled. “We were both waiting for that.”

The weight of the past few days hadn’t disappeared, but in this moment, surrounded by the people who cared about her and Rafe, it felt a little bit lighter. However the comfort couldn’t stay forever, the atmosphere shifted once again, this time taking a more serious turn. Topper and Kelce were leaning forward on the couch now, their attention focused on Rafe and Y/N, ready to face the reality of what was happening.

“So… Cooper’s pressing charges against you?”

Party's over

Kelce asked, his tone trying to sound casual but not fully hiding the tension in his voice. Rafe’s eyes flicked briefly to Y/N before he answered.

“Yeah. He’s pressing charges,” Rafe muttered, his jaw clenching slightly as if the words left a bitter taste in his mouth. “But we’re gonna handle it.”

Y/N looked over at him, her gaze heavy with both concern and support. “And um… I’m going to press charges against him,” she said quietly, “you know, for what he did...”

The room grew heavy with the weight of her words, Topper and Kelce exchanged an uncertain glance, the truth of the situation sinking in as they processed her decision.

“You sure about that?” Topper asked, his voice quieter than usual, a note of concern underlining his words. Y/N nodded slowly.

“Yeah. I have to, I can’t let him get away with it.”

Topper nodded at her in support, “I’ll see if I can get my pop’s in the court for the hearing… I doubt the Millers will know about him being family.”

Rafe looked at him, his lips pursed as he turned to the girl, sending her a small reassuring smile. “We’ve got your back, always,” his voice was steady despite the turmoil around them.

For a moment, Y/N felt herself ease slightly, the weight of her upcoming choices lessened by boys’ presence, their unspoken promise to stand with her. However, when a new question arose in her mind she hesitated for a moment, her fingers nervously tapping on the armrest as she swallowed hard, trying to find her voice.

“Do people… do people know?”

Please say no

Her voice cracked just slightly, the raw vulnerability in her words making everyone in the room pause. Topper and Kelce looked at each other, uncertainty flickering between them. Neither knew how to answer immediately, neither of them wanted to add to her problems, but Y/N could see it in their eyes, and she knew she was bound to hear something she didn't want to. She sat up a little, her heart pounding, and looked at them, almost pleading with her eyes.

“Please,” she said, “tell me the truth.”

Topper sighed, looking down before he looked back up at her. “Yeah. People know… There’s been talk. There was a video… of you, uh, crying.” He winced, as if just saying it was enough to make him uncomfortable. “We don’t know how much it’s been spread, but…” He trailed off, not wanting to say more, but the reality was clear.

Y/N’s hand immediately came up to her face, biting the nail of her thumb to try to block out the sting of embarrassment. She felt her chest tighten, the overwhelming shame flooding in once again.

She hadn’t been prepared for this.

“It’s… it’s not just you crying…”

-what?

Kelce continued, choosing his words carefully. “It’s after Rafe broke down the door, when he found you… your nose’s bleeding, and your dress is uh- well it’s ripped. Someone caught it on their phone.”

Y/N froze, her stomach churning. She felt like the world was crumbling around her. The image they painted in her mind of that moment made her stomach twist in shame. She couldn’t help the feeling of being completely exposed, the thought of others seeing her in such a vulnerable state made her feel sick. The image she’d worked so hard to create, of the perfect ‘Kook Princess’ was no longer valid, and she knew that everyone knew that. Her breath caught in her throat, and she fought the urge to cry, the weight of the situation heavier than she’d imagined. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the reality of it all, her voice barely escaped, merely a whisper,

“I didn’t want anyone to see that…”

Topper gave a small, understanding nod, his voice softer now. “Listen,” he started gently, “I know it’s a lot to deal with, and I’m sorry, but…” He paused, searching for the right words.

“Most people, they’re on your side, Y/N, they’re behind you.”

Y/N’s gaze lifted from her hands, her eyes still clouded with shame, but there was a flicker of something else in her expression now. “You really think so?” she asked quietly, barely above a whisper. Kelce, noticing the shift in her demeanor, leaned forward, his expression softening,

“Look- Kooks, Pogues, they’re all behind you, Y/N. People care. Last week at the country club, apparently Matty overheard someone talking shit about it and uh- you remember Elijah?”

“The guy who crushed his dad’s yacht?” Rafe asked, his eyebrows drawing down in curiosity.

“Yeah yeah, you remember?” He looked over to the girl who sent him a small nod in return.

“So Elijah called this guy out in front of everyone there, gave him a lecture, said he was a ‘shit talker with no future’, I really wish I was there. And then- imagine this- management escorted the guy out and revoked his family's membership.”

Her brows raised as the boy finished talking, taken aback by the story, taken aback by the fact that people were so involved in what had happened, and not in the way she was expecting. “Yeah,” Kelce confirmed, his voice firm but kind as he noticed the girl's surprise,

“People see what happened to you, and they’re with you, not with him.”

For a moment, Y/N stayed silent, processing their words. She had been so worried about the fallout, the judgment, the rumors. But hearing that people were on her side, eased the tight knot in her chest, just a little. She looked at Rafe, her words a little shaky.

“I just… I feel like everyone’s seeing me as something I’m not.”

“You’re not defined by that video, or by anyone else’s opinions. We’ll make sure of that.” Rafe’s voice spoke out, low and soothing.

I'll make sure of it

Y/N took a deep breath, wiping her face with the back of her hand, the sting of her earlier tears still there but the fire of resolve slowly taking its place. “Thanks,” she said softly to the guys, her voice quiet.

“It helps… hearing that.”

Topper and Kelce exchanged another glance. They could see how much this was hurting her, and while they couldn’t fight this battle for her, they had her back, she was like their sister.

Topper cleared his throat, his voice low but firm. “We’re with you, Y/N. No matter what.”

Kelce shook his head in agreement, then smirked. “Yeah, and if anyone’s got a problem with you, they can catch these hands… or Topper’s.”

“Yeah cause you cry like a bitch when you bruise your knuckles”

“Man shut the fuck up”

Y/n rolled her eyes amused at their banter, but she had a nagging question at the back of her mind, from the moment they told her about the video. She cleared her throat as she spoke,

“Whose video was it?”

Topper and Kelce stopped shoving each other pausing in hesitance, neither of them seemed to have an answer. “I don’t know,” Topper admitted, scratching the back of his head. “It’s just kind of circulating, you know? People saw it and… well, it got around.”

“Have you guys… do you have it?” she asked, a growing sense of urgency in her tone as she picked at the skin on her thumb. Topper’s face turned serious, and he shifted uncomfortably.

“Look, Y/N, maybe it’s best if you don’t see it. Honestly…” He trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence. Kelce nodded in agreement, glancing down at his phone, his discomfort palpable.

“Yeah, it’s… it’s pretty bad. We didn’t want you to have to relive that.”

“Please,” she said, her voice stronger now, her eyes pleading.

“Y/n-” Rafe spoke out his hand pushing his hair out of the way. He knew the girl was desperate to see what everyone else had but something gnawed at him, a feeling of unease which made him cautious about the girl seeing the footage.

Don't do this to yourself

“Send it to me, I deserve to see it. It’s not fair that everyone else has seen it but I haven't.”

Topper and Kelce exchanged glances, both of them hesitating for a moment longer looking over to the boy sitting next to Y/n in uncertainty but he simply let out a sigh, his head nodding ever so slightly, so they reluctantly agreed. Kelce fingers worked upon the screen of his phone, and in seconds her pocket was vibrating. She pulled her phone out of her pocket with sweaty palms, her fingers were shaky as she clicked on the message the video opened.

Her heart sank as the footage played before her eyes.

There she was- barely clothed, a version of herself she barely recognized. Her face was blotched with dried blood, streaked across her hairline and crusted beneath her nose. Her cheeks were stained with tears,, body visibly trembling; the video on the screen was muted, but she didn’t need sound to know she was sobbing because her chest heaved in shallow, rapid breaths, her lips quivering. Her dress- once something soft and beautiful- hung in tatters. The delicate ribbons that once tied it together were shredded, barely clinging to her shoulders by fraying threads. The fabric was torn and wrinkled, offering little coverage, leaving her exposed in a way that made her stomach turn. She stared at the screen, frozen, unable to tear her eyes away.

Oh my God-

And suddenly, it wasn’t just a video. It was real again.

The cold floor under her skin, the crushing weight on her chest, the way her limbs felt so heavy, so useless. The panic, the fear, the suffocating helplessness, It all slammed into her at once, like a tidal wave she hadn’t been bracing for.

Her breath hitched painfully in her throat.

Until now, it hadn’t felt real. In the days after the party, her mind had blurred it out, like a fog rolling in to protect her from the truth. She hadn’t let herself think about it—not fully. Whenever the memories clawed their way to the surface, her brain shut them down, drowning them in static. Now, the reality of what Cooper had actually done to her hit her with full force. Without thinking, she got up suddenly, her hand trembling as she gripped the phone. Rafe’s voice was full of concern as he jumped to his feet, trying to keep up with her.

“Woah, woah, slow down, what’s going on?”

“This is-,” Y/N said quickly, her voice quivering. “-this is evidence we can use in court.”

Rafe looked at the girl, not taking his eyes off her slightly jittery frame as he processed what she was saying. The urgency in her voice made it clear that she was ready to expose herself for a chance to take control of the situation but he wasn't sure this was a good idea. Topper stood up from his seat, clearly concerned by the girls reaction, of course he was happy that people’s crude invasion of her privacy was going to at least help in some way, however from the way she gripped the phone in her quivering hold, her eyes flickering down to it’s lit up screen repeatedly he could tell she was on edge. His brows drew down slightly as he opened his mouth to speak out but the girl swiftly turned away from the boys and made her way toward the stairs. Rafe, sensing the urgency in her movements, followed closely behind her.

Shit

“Hey wait! Where are you going?”

He asked as he jogged up to her, his voice a mix of concern and confusion, as his legs moved quickly to keep by her side. Y/N didn’t stop to look back as she continued up the stairs, the video replaying in her hand. Her eyes were glued to the screen, her fingers tightening around her phone. She didn’t answer immediately, her mind focused on one thing,

“We need to show Ward,” she said, her voice almost distant, “We need to show him, so he can send it to the lawyers. It’s… it’s evidence.”

Her steps were steady at first, but as she ascended the staircase, her breathing began to quicken. The video on her phone flickered in her hands, and the reality of what was being shown to her- of what had happened- slowly started to grow heavier. She hadn’t realised it before, but the anxiety was creeping up on her, a tidal wave of panic hitting her chest with every step. Rafe noticed immediately. Her breathing was irregular, quick and shallow, like she was struggling to catch her breath. He’d seen this before- seen her tense up like this, and he knew what was coming.

Shit-

“Hey, hey, slow down,”

Rafe said, his voice firm but gentle. Y/N didn’t hear him at first, her focus still fixated on the screen, her hand holding it as her eyes watched the repeating video as if it might change the painful reality flashing before her eyes. But Rafe, sensing her distress, stepped in front of her, his hand gently took the phone from hers, switching it off and slipping it into his back pocket,

“Y/N, hey, look at me, how about you come sit with me, hmm?”

She shook her head, her hands still trembling, but Rafe didn’t let go, he held his hand out for her to take, his voice unwavering.

I can't, I can't-

“Look at me. Slow down, okay?”

Her breathing was erratic now, chest rising and falling with rapid, uneven gasps. She barely noticed the way her hand was clutching her chest

“Rafe…” Y/N whispered, her hand now twisting the material of her hoodie in her grasp, her breath shallow and quick.

“I… I can’t breathe.”

She leaned against the railing, trying to steady herself, her heart pounding in her chest. Rafe’s eyes softened as he took a step closer her,

“It’s okay, Its okay here-”

He took her hand softly, the panic starting to make her dizzy. She nodded slowly, and Rafe guided her to sit down on the stairs. She lowered herself carefully, her legs feeling weak, and Rafe followed her, sitting a step below her so they were facing each other, still holding her hand to try and ground her.

“Breathe with me,” he reassured her, his voice low and steady. Y/N’s eyes locked onto his, and took a breath in. But it wasn’t enough. Her chest felt tight. Her jaw tightened as she shook her head at him, chest rising and falling as exasperating breaths past her lips.

I can't do this- fuck

“No? That's okay”

He watched the girl as she squeezed her eyes shut, the hand that wasn’t holding onto his was gripping the railing of the banister, his heart clenched as he searched his mind for a way to help her. When he first started going to the therapist Y/n had recommended to him to help with his addiction, Rafe had told him about his lack of control over his emotions, over his actions. He thought it was pointless, because how was a random man he didn't know meant to help him with his problems, when he didn't even understand what he was going through. The therapist had taught him about calming strategies, about the importance of grounding yourself and momentarily, the boy doubted the man’s techniques, he thought they were stupid, but now as he sat here in front of the hyperventilating girl in front of him, he couldn't help but think he needed to send the man a thank you note.

“Just want you to focus on me okay? Can you do that for me Y/n?”

The boy squeezed her hand gently trying to get her attention as he saw the tear roll down her cheek, the girl’s mind clearly spiraling as she struggled to catch her breath. Her eyes fluttered open as she looked at Rafe infront of her, her head moving up and down in a frantic gesture.

“I want you to tell me three things you can hear,” he instructed gently, observing as she nodded, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to center herself as her brows drew down into a small frown of focus.

“I can hear the TV downstairs, my uh- my heartbeat and, and I c-can hear your voice.”

Her words were breathless and her eyes were closed but Rafe smiled at her anyways, “Good job,” he encouraged.

“Now, tell me three things you can feel.”

She took a another shaky breath the grip on her hoodie loosened slightly, as her eyes squeezed together,

“The stairs,” she murmured. “my chest… my heart and… your hand…it’s warm- in mine.”

Rafe nodded, squeezing her hand gently. “Doing so good my sweet girl. Can you do one more for me?”

She could still feel the pressure in her chest, but her breathing had calmed, her lightheadedness retreating, she nodded her head slightly in a ‘yes’.

“What do you see right in front of you?”

Rafe’s voice rang out in her ears and her eyes fluttered open, squinting slightly to adjust to the light before opening fully. She looked around, trying to focus on the details, but her eyes landed on what was right in front of her. She spoke softly, her voice shaking slightly.

“You”

Rafe’s lips curled into a faint, comforting smile, “What about me?”

Y/N didn’t hesitate this time, her voice steady, “Your eyes.”

“You’ve always had a thing for my eyes, huh?” He chuckled softly, his smile widening as he leaned in a little closer. She nodded, the faintest blush rising on her cheeks.

“Always”

Rafe’s smile softened, his hand still holding hers, a gesture that felt oddly comforting in the midst of everything. He leaned back against the stairs, still close but giving her space to breathe.

“Take your time, don’t push yourself so much Princess.”

Her brows drew down slightly as the nickname passed his lips.

Please don't call me that

She let out a shaky breath, her shoulders still tense. She turned her head, resting it back against the railing, and closed her eyes for a moment, still trying to regain her composure. Rafe, watching her closely, stayed quiet for a while, giving her space to process. He knew she was battling a whirlwind of emotions. Fear. Anger. The pressure of what lay ahead. Finally, she opened her eyes again, her gaze soft but still heavy with the weight of everything.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to freak out- I uh, I didn’t realize… it just hit me.”

“You don’t need to apologize.”

Rafe said, shaking his head. Her eyes met his, and for a moment, there was a quiet understanding between them. No words needed to be said, they had been through too much together to be embarrassed of each other's fragility. She sighed deeply, looking down before speaking again.

“I just feel like I’m drowning in all of this. It’s not just the case, it’s everything else. The video… and the fact that everyone’s seen it… I didn’t think it would be like this.”

Rafe, who had been leaning forward, put a hand on her knee slowly not wanting to startle her, his touch gentle. “You’re not drowning, okay? You’ve got people here who are fighting with you... I’m fighting with you.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes brimming with a mix of gratitude and exhaustion. She took another deep breath, hand running over her face to try and regain her composure, this time more steady than before, and stood up slowly, offering a hand to Rafe as she did. He took it, standing up in front of her.

For a moment, they just stood there in silence.

Then, like a thread finally snapping loose, Y/N leaned forward, her body moving on instinct. Her forehead gently pressed against his shoulder, the fabric of his t-shirt soft but solid beneath her skin. She didn’t say anything- didn’t need to. Her body sagged slightly, the tension in her muscles slowly starting to uncoil as if letting herself go as she breathed in the comforting scent of the boy. Rafe stilled for only a moment, surprised by how vulnerable she allowed herself to be. Then, without thinking, his hand lifted and rested softly on the back of her head, his touch was light, careful. Protective.

“You’re okay,” he murmured, voice low and steady near her ear. His thumb brushed lightly against her hair.

“I’ve got you, yeah? You’re safe.”

A soft hum left her lips, barely audible, but it was enough for him. Her shoulders dropped slightly, the last of her rigid posture melting away as she leaned into him more, hand coming up to rest on his chest. The storm inside her, though still rumbling, quieted just a little in his hold. Rafe didn’t move, not wanting to destroy the perfect tranquility formed between them.

He just stayed there, holding her like he had all the time in the world, his hand cradling her head and his chest rising and falling in sync with hers.

I love you

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

taglist: @evermorx89 @bellaed1t @user381953 @lovemanheim @loves0phelia @yourcrackleflame @kundaquarius @matthewswifeyy @pillowprincess4him @lilithblackkk @sunny1616 @slut-4-gojo @louxmcl @stelleduarte @p0gue420

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vinamari · 6 months ago

Text

LANKY: 10:49 P.M — Touya Todoroki

A/N: I 100% THINK HE’S JUST LANKY & LEAN, also please let me know if you guys would like this to be like mini series of different scenarios that you guys would like to request or any form of elaboration on certain parts of the text or plot in general!! I would like to include that the reader has a water quirk which can be manipulated into ice or for healing.

Warning(s): fluff/angst ☁️ , Suggestive?, Post-War and after recovery (few years later), “friends”

SYNOPSIS: Staying the night over at the Todoroki estate for Touya, where you notice just how lanky & lean he is and maybe more.

Glancing at the clock it was currently 10:49 P.M and Touya was taking a while to come out the shower . He’d been in the bathroom for almost twenty minutes now. Letting out a sigh you call out to him from the bedroom, “Touya! Did you drown?!”

The sound of water stopping was heard as he emerged into the living room, rubbing his wet hair with a towel before putting on a pair of black sweatpants and a white t-shirt. He looked like a wet cat. Looking at him, you question him, “Did Natsuo give you a swirly, what happened?”, you tried not to snicker as he deadpanned at what you had just said, “Maybe looking like I came out the oven wasn’t my worst option”, he responded back unamused.

Shaking his head at your dumb comment and going into the kitchen to make himself some Soba. His eyes were still purple from beneath, but he wasn’t crying blood anymore, thankfully. Looking at him as he sauntered around the kitchen, you notice how his frame wasn’t particularly buff to say the least however he was both lanky and lean. Not saying that he didn’t look attractive, he was most definitely attractive and the way he looks now and for however long you’ve known him is just again..very attractive.

“At least wash the dishes”, seeing as he left the kitchen.

“I did, but you were too busy looking at me to notice”, seeing how your gaze had been on his overall being the entire time. Giving him a blank look, “You wish”. You went back to scrolling through instagram. “I understand”, he replied. “I’m simply to hard to ignore”, pushing his snow liked hair back as he expressed his very charismatic-self. ‘Charismatic my ass’, rolling your eyes at his actions.

After a few minutes of silence you decided to ask about his day and how his rehabilitation classes went, which was more than he usually gave you, even though he normally answered you with lots of questions that you answered. “So, what do you think of that guy, Fuyumi told me about?”, you inquired. Touya didn’t have much of an interest in what you and his sister talked about, but you both talked a lot so he was more or less obligated to listen to you two talk. And when he listened well enough then he would respond back.

“Not your type, he’s to bland and doesn’t have any humor”, Touya mumbled as he sorted through a series of movies to watch. It was true though, he didn’t think the guy was interesting enough to keep you hooked, so he just wasn’t worth your time. Plus he had never really liked that guy anyways. “What was your first impression of him, anyway?”, he questioned you as he bore his eyes into the tv. “You don’t usually care to be interested in anyone”.

Snorting, thinking back to the first impression you had gotten from the guy, “Total nut job..honestly he might be your soulmate” you said trying not to laugh as you glanced at him from the side. “I’m going to end up in Tartarus if you keep it up”, watching as a tic formed on the side of his head. “And I won’t even put up with the pain of it…”, you continued teasing him with your words knowing full well that he was a little shit.

Looking at the tv after Touya had finally picked a movie to watch you decide to lay down next to him. You eyes were feeling heavy after the first 30 minutes of the movie, you honestly just wanted to wrap your arms around Touya’s waist and simply knock out. But he wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of physical contact despite being severely touched starved, so wrapping your arms around him sounded like a bad idea. Closing your eyes you let out a yawn, head swaying slightly side to side before it ends up on to Touya’s marred purplish shoulder.

He released a heavy sigh as he carefully adjusted you in order to continue watching the movie. Suddenly he felt an arm wrap around his torso, trying to pull him closer. “What a weirdo”, he snickered, his white tufts tickling his neck. It was so easy to just hold him and not let him go, his arms and hand were perfectly grabable, his body which was despite being burnt was awfully nice to lean on. His body radiated such comforting heat as the result of his quirk.

You were most likely going to be in deep sleep for a while and the movie had been completely disregarded as you were practically preventing him from being able to watch. At points like this he let you do whatever you wanted, however he just hadn’t expected you to be intertwining your legs with his and hugging him as you slept.

Everything felt hot, especially with you tugging on his shirt so much that your hands were touching his bare torso. He didn’t understand why you had looked at him as if he had been so perfect, especially not when his body is burnt from the use of his quirk. His skin was rugged, nothing soft but rather rough to touch…but here you were sliding your arms beneath his shirt trying to pull him close as inhumanely as possible.

You liked how lanky he was, it made him seem smaller despite his height. To you everything looked good about him, his arms, his body, his personality. Him.

It was more than him being lanky or lean. It was just him.

The clock now read 12:00 A.M.

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noemilivv · 1 year ago

Note

Can I please request a Lucifer, Vox and Adam x GN! Reader where Lucifer, Vox, Adam becomes a nervous wreck trying to propose to Reader and even at there wedding day as they get themselves ready to step out of there dressing room and do there bows and all :3

what the flip this actually had me getting giddy reading this OFC I WILL WRITE THIS FOR YOU !!

a/n: i’m just doing proposal and wedding hcs so i hope that’s okay!! but they will contain bits of them getting all nervous so dw :)

a/n #2: THIS WAS ACTUALLY SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE TYSM FOR REQUESTING THIS!!!

Warnings: Swearing, potential S1 spoilers(?), mentions of sex (no smut)

Adam Proposal + Wedding Headcanons

Adam didn’t understand why he was so nervous to propose, he’s ADAM, he’s the fucking man, he’s the OG DICK. Who could say no to him?

Uh.. actually… you could, technically. And he is — believe it or not — sorta scared out of his fucking mind for that outcome, considering he spent all his time with you, he wasn’t sure what his life would turn to if it didn’t go smoothly, but bitch is a risk taker, so ya boi fuckin’ went for it

Adam, with little-no ideas, went super basic, it was the only way he really knew how, he took you out to a fancy restaurant with fancy ass clothes, as a ‘business meeting’

After waiting over and over for the right moment, he realized he was almost out of time, so he popped down onto one knee

“Look, I don’t really understand this whole… proposal bullshit.” Adam started, fidgeting with the ring box in his hand nervously — whilst trying to maintain his cool,

“But I’m gonna do it, cause I’m the fucking man!” He said as he began to regain his confidence, “So, babe, would you make me the happiest man in Heaven and become the fucking one?” He said, pushing out the ring box, with a nervous but genuine toothy grin.

You said yes! Pffft, he called it! He called it.. heh..

He’s actually a lot more invested in wedding planning then you might think!

Just the reception though, the ceremony is ‘boring as fuck’

He will get slightly emotional during the ceremony, not tears or anything, but for one of the first (and realistically last) times, he has a gentle but proud smile on his face as you walk down the isle and you two do your vows.

THEN, that completely changed at the reception, bro goes batshit crazy. He definitely planned to have some bomb ass music and he is either chugging a shot or dancing his fucking heart out to the music.

Whenever talking to people at the reception, he will sit there and shove his wedding band in their fucking face as if they didn’t just watch you get married.

And then you guys go to your honeymoon basically immediately, and once you two get your ass into your hotel, you’re fucking.

That aside though, Lute was Adam’s best man, no questions asked. 😛

Lucifer Proposal + Wedding

Headcanons

Lucifer hasn’t had to do this since Lilith, which has its pros and cons.

He’s a little more experienced than the other two, due to the fact that he’s obviously proposed before.

He’s less nervous because of this, but that doesn’t mean he just doesn’t care, cause he really wants this to be special for you, he just doesn’t want you to regret it — whatever your response may be.

He bought a ring for you way before he actually proposed, and he always kept it with him, because he never knew when the right moment would strike

And it came when he least expected it…

It was around 3am, and there was hardly anyone out on the streets, surprisingly, you two were taking a nightly stroll, and you had laughed at something he said, and you just looked so beautiful in the Hellish night sky, he knew, right then and there, you were the one.

You continued to stroll down the street in the bloody red, before realizing Lucifer’s absence from your side, you turn around to see the blonde angel on one knee, with a soft smile and tears pricking in his eyes.

“Y’know, I wasn’t too sure about love after what happened with Lilith..” He started, letting out a small sigh to contain himself before continuing, “And, somehow, someway, you came into my life at the best possible time.” He said, taking a pause, trying to regulate his emotions.

“You found me at my worst, and turned me into my best, and my God, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me.” Lucifer said, combing over some of his blonde locks to the side, as tears continued to well up in his eyes.

“Sweetie, you make me so happy, and you love me, silliness and flaws and all, so my love, would you please do me the honor and allow me to be your husband?”

Yes, he got you duck themed wedding rings. Because why would he not?

He’s very insistent on helping with the wedding planning, you’ve done so much for him, so he wants you to be able to sit back and relax and just be able to enjoy the wedding.

And then he crashes and burns, as he realizes, he doesn’t fucking know how to plan a wedding… So you guys split it half-and-half.

He really wants a winter wedding. On Valentine’s Day. With Valentines colors. Please let him have it. He’s so baby, he really wants it.

During the ceremony, he definitely cries. Not too hard core though, a couple tears and sniffles with a proud, dopey smile across his face.

The reception is a more lowkey version of Adam’s, there’s music and shit, but it’s not like a madhouse in contrast lmao.

Luci does make a point to talk to almost every guest, especially if their your family, cause he wants to get to know them.

Also, if there are kids at your wedding, especially if their your relatives, he loves them. He will let them climb all over him, he’ll fly them around a bit, he’ll play with them. I love the idea of Luci playing with kids.

You guys don’t have a honeymoon, though, he’d rather stay at home and make ducks.

Oh yeah, next topic to tackle is… how does he tell you he wants kids…? And when…?

Vox Proposal + Wedding

Headcanons

As much as Vox may say, it’s for business, it’s not. He loves you so much.

Vox wants a lowkey proposal, not a lot of people around, just done and out of the way.

He does it while at a VoxTech event, so the two of you are already dressed up incase some paparazzi come and sneak pictures.

Once he has a bit of spare time, he pulls you out into a private hallway or a balcony, and does his thing. And yes, he glitches

Halfway through your conversation with Velvette, you feel a jerk on your arm and as your being dragged off Velvette gives you two big thumbs up with a toothy grin, while mouthing ‘Goodluck!’ like bitch, the fuck? Good luck for what??

You’re pulled out into the hallway, and shoved into the outside balcony area, you turn after you get your focus back, which is immediately taken away after you see Vox on one knee.

“Dear, zzh— we’ve been through a lot together, ssz— and szzz!- Honestly, it’s not like I even care, szzzz- but, maybe, you’d consider, szz- marrying me?” Vox makes an attempt to proudly hold the ring box to you as he just embarrassed himself, he gives a nervous, toothy, talk show host grin.

Yeah.. Just for business. mhm.

A lot of people are invited to your wedding, it’s fucking Vox, he knows people.

Neither of you plan the wedding, per say, Vox just gets an employee to do all the tedious stuff for you guys and you two give your input when needed.

During the ceremony, Vox doesn’t get emotional, there’s people here who has business deals with, therefore, the show must go on!

But during the reception, when you both have your first dance as spouses, the world for him… goes quiet.

THAT’S when he gets slightly emotional, he leans into your touch and cannot stop whispering to you about how much he fucking loves you.

The reception is a bit more formal, you both go around and talk to guests as Vox does his little host shit, and makes a few business deals.

You guys have a honeymoon, and it’s expensive as FUCK, that was a little surprise for you, he takes you out to the biggest places in all of Hell, only the best for his newly-wedded spouse~

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bananayuyu · 6 months ago

Text

all tied up {part 2}

Pairing: Yunho x f reader

Genre: angst, eventual smut

Word count: 11.9k

Summary: You never thought you'd have such an awful rivalry with a coworker. How is he so mean, so petty, so under your skin...?

Warnings: smut, MDNI, mentions of reader wanting to die and past traumas, dub con/non con, reader is physically bound against her will, mean yunho, nipple play, fingering, unprotected penetration, after care of sorts

A/n: I hope you all enjoy the depravity! (and again please read the warnings and don't read this if you aren't in the right headspace <3)

Read part 1 here

Read it on ao3

That toe box. That stupid fucking toe box…

"YUNHO, LET ME GO!!" you scream, punching a hand into his side and making him sag ever so slightly.

"Fucking hell, give me a second," he replies, finally slinging you back over his shoulder to your feet.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!" you scream, shoving him as hard as you can, and he rocks back onto his other foot, destabilized only for a second.

"Calm down, Jesus Christ," he snaps, and you move to dart around him, towards the front door you were just dragged through. He's too quick though and grabs you by the arm, your shoulder crashing into the wall as he awkwardly halts your movements. "Y/n, seriously, calm the fuck down." His tone is harsh, low and demanding, and the turn of events has so shocked you, you feel like you might puke.

"You just kidnapped me, and you're telling me to calm down??" you spit, your shoulder stinging from the impact of the wall.

"I saved you from that horrible weather, actually. Not safe for a girl like you to be out there right now," he replies, a chilling smirk on his lips.

"Oh fuck off, you fucking creep," you mutter, desperately trying to free your arm from his grasp.

"Listen I know it's a bit extreme, but you kept ignoring me, and I want to talk. So I did what I had to do, to make that happen," he replies, his voice uncomfortably smooth.

"Yunji is right, you're a fucking sociopath," you respond, eyeing him sharply.

"Yunji?" he asks, his eyebrows cocked.

"Yunji, my best friend, my roommate, who will be very concerned if I don't return home soon. So you'd better fucking let me go, if you don't want the police called," you say, words fiery and sharp as they exit your mouth.

"Why don't you text her and let her know you got caught in the storm, and a kind neighbor let you into their place for protection," he smiles, shaking his head at you like you're dumb.

"Fuck you, fuck offf," you mutter as you knee him hard in the side, managing to pull your arm free for a moment and stumbling towards his front door once again. But again somehow he's faster than you, despite the wind being slightly knocked out of him, and he puts himself between you and the door with a loud slam, your body smashing into his, hard. His right hand moves behind him to slide closed the deadbolt, his broad frame guarding the door, creating a barrier you certainly won't be able to break through.

"You're making this very difficult, y/n," he scolds, shaking his head again.

"ME?? I'M MAKING THIS DIFFICULT??" you scream, falling to the floor in desperation, your mind running out of ideas. The only one that's left is his backdoor, which you know is likely to be locked; but you realize it's truly your last hope, your only remaining option. With a sharp inhale you steady yourself, launching down a hallway you see that leads in that general direction, turning the corner abruptly when you hit a wall, seeing another hallway branching off with more doors leading to other rooms. You continue down this hallway too, even though it's running towards the side of the house, because you really don't have another choice and have no idea where any of these doors might lead you. You're running hard, as hard as you can, bumping into walls and nearly stumbling over a slight blip in the old hardwood floor, catching yourself in time to keep running. You round another corner into what looks like a den, and then you spot it, sliding glass doors that lead to his backyard. You're almost there, your legs only propelled by your adrenaline, and you know he's hot on your trail, his hard footsteps echoing ominously behind you. Sliding the door will open will be awkward, you know that, but you have to try-

You're grabbed again, this time tackled to the ground, a hand coming around your ankle and holding it tight as you flail your other leg, making contact with some part of Yunho's body. Your huge winter coat is making it hard to move around on the floor, your body limited by the layers of clothing and the crumpled position you're currently pinned in.

"Yunho, please, just fucking let me go," you beg, your throat hoarse from your screaming earlier, your lungs lacking capacity from your running. "I promise, I'll talk to you tomorrow, I promise, just please, let me go, please, please." You sound so pathetic, so scared, because you are. You've never felt like this, scared for your life and unsure you'll make it through the rest of the day alive.

"Don't make promises you can't fucking keep," Yunho grumbles, moving on top of you to pin you even tighter, both of your legs awkwardly bent under his and your upper body held down by his arms. His face is only inches from yours now, closer than it's ever been, and you squeeze your eyes shut, not wanting to see what you know is a horrifying look in his eyes.

"No I'm serious, I will talk to you, I promise, I-"

"No you won't. I know you fucking won't," he spits, adjusting his grip on your arms as if he's trying to remind you how trapped you are. "You'd make your mind up, hadn't you? You'd decided you'd much rather we both lose our jobs than you having to speak to me again. You were gonna give up. You weren't going to talk to me tomorrow, or the next day, or ever. If I let you go now, that wouldn't fucking change. Don't lie to me, y/n. I'm not stupid."

Your snarky reply gets lost in your throat, because the way he's read you so easily is utterly disturbing.

"What, are you shocked that I'm right? You're not that hard to read, doll," he continues, chuckling deeply. But I am, to everyone else, you think. You've always been able to hide your intentions easily. Your side is starting to throb, his elbow digging into your ribs, and his words have lit another fire in you, one that comes from the visceral fear that's consuming you.

You snap your head up and bite hard on his shoulder, the only part of him other than his face that you can reach. You're more forceful than even you expect, immediately tasting blood, and it makes you bite even harder, Yunho letting out a sudden cry of pain.

"Fuck, you fucking bi-"

You cut him off with a knee to the groin, the pain from your bite having loosened his nerve enough for you to do so. It weakens him even more, and you're able to move your hips out from under him, painfully wrenching yourself free from his grasp and doing anything you can to inflict pain on his perfect body. You can feel it now that he's on top of you, the curves and lines and hints of lean muscle, and it pisses you off all over again. You're clawing at him, scratching and biting and kicking every which way. His breath is knocked out of him so you both are just breathing heavily, his body grunting with every painful blow, your own voice erupting in a growl when you finally free yourself from him and manage to miraculously make it to your feet.

You're running back the way you came now, back towards the front door which you know how to unlock, a cramp forming sharp in your side from the exertion. You hear his footsteps behind you again, and you know it's a last-ditch effort, but you try with all your might to run as fast as you possibly can. Suddenly you feel your left arm tugged back, your body jolting awkwardly as he makes contact with you, but he's only able to get a good hold on the sleeve of your coat, which now is painfully snaking down your arm and falling off your shoulder. You wrench your arm free from it, spinning to free your other arm too, feeling unburdened now without your coat and able to sprint fast again. As you round the corner you see the front door, the dark stained wood ominous, a warning against entering. Or leaving, you suppose. The whole house is dark, little light coming in from the windows because of the now raging storm, and for the first moment since you've entered Yunho's house you notice a bright flash that must be lightning, followed by a loud rumble of thunder. You know it should be louder, it sounded mere moments after the flash meaning the strike was somewhere nearby, but the snow is just that thick right now, even the deafening sound got lost in it. You wonder if you'll even be able to open the door against the winds and what must be harsh rain, and tears start coming fast down your cheeks as your fears reach new heights. Even if you make it out of here you've got the elements to deal with, and suddenly storming out that door doesn't sound so good. For a brief moment it's almost like you're begging for it, begging for him to grab you again so you don't have to face the reality outside.

Even if it'd only been a passing thought, Yunho answers your sadistic prayer, finally making contact with you again when you're only five feet from the door, his hand crushing as it grips down on your upper arm. You shriek, your shoulder screaming so severely in pain you're worried he's dislocated it. You both awkwardly crash towards the ground again, Yunho coming to his knees as he tries to prevent the fall, your legs sweeping out from under you as you lose your balance. You're still fighting fiercely, and you feel ridiculous for wishing for this now. You'd give anything to be in that fierce, terrifying storm right now, instead of being dragged by your arm and your hair down his hallway, making dents in the walls with your feet as you struggle against his firm grip.

"You're making this really fucking difficult, y/n," he growls, breathing hard from carrying the weight of an entire human down his short hallway. "I don't think you realize how true that is." You're still screaming in pain, tears streaming down your face in waves now as the follicles of your hair are nearly ripped out. "We could have done this another way, but you just had to fucking fight me, as always. I should have known you'd pull some shit like this," he spits, his voice low. You have no idea where you're going, your vision clouded with your tears. Eventually you year a door knob turned, Yunho yanking you hard and turning you around, your legs catching painfully underneath you.

"Ah!" you scream in pain, using your free hand to wipe the tears and snot from your face and finally try to get a good look around you.

"Shut up, this is your fault," he responds, his tone cold in that way that it so often is. It feels so weird to be with him outside of work, the feeling hitting you suddenly as you're finally able to get a glimpse of him; turning your head you see a desk, a dresser, a closet door...

You can only see a glimpse of his bed when you turn to the side, but it's enough to confirm you're in his bedroom. It adds to the fear in you, that you're both in the place he feels most comfortable, that he's confident enough to show you his place of rest. Is he going to kill you? You really wouldn't have pegged him as the type, even if he was an asshole at work; your jokes with Yunji about him being sociopathic were hyperbole, at the time, at least.

"Are you going to kill me?" you ask, finding a strength within yourself that surprises you.

"No," he grunts, his body pinning you down as he reaches under his bed, the position twisting his torso and making his breathing uneven.

"Then what the hell are you doing?" you ask, trying to even out your breathing yourself. Your lungs feel exhausted from screaming, but at least now he isn't dragging you by your hair, so your scalp is getting a break from the severe pain. He doesn't answer you, shoving his arm further under, and then in a flash you see what he's pulled out, in moments feeling it against the skin of your left wrist.

The black rope is even and soft, clearly made for use in the bedroom. It would make you laugh, cause you to poke fun at him, normally, but in this instance your blood runs cold as you feel him forcefully anchor the wrist in place, tying it to something behind you in a way that makes it totally immovable. You struggle against him as he reaches for your other arm, but with the way he has you pinned there's only one outcome to this, and soon your other wrist is being tied down too, right next to your first one. You're well and truly trapped now, not able to move your arms at all, and with them tied behind your back it's hard to move the rest of your upper body.

With another grunt Yunho finishes securing his knots, your arms tied to one of his bed posts, your legs awkwardly folded under you. You look so pathetic and vulnerable in this state, and it makes him feel things he knows he shouldn’t, something that makes his pants feel tighter than they should. Your whole face is a mess from crying, your hair disheveled and tangly; he's never seen you in such a state, so messed up and powerless and ragged.

"Well, here we are," he says, standing up and walking back to the entrance of his room, putting several feet between you as he stares you down, arms crossed.

"What do you want?" you snap, frustrated and disgusted that you can't wipe the small trail of snot that's currently leaving your nose.

"I just want to talk, y/n. I'm not planning on killing you, I'm not that kind of person. I can't believe you'd even ask that," he responds, looking at you sternly.

"YOU FUCKING TIED ME UP, WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO THINK?!!" you scream, your body lurching forward with the force of your words. The binding on your wrists squeezes painfully when you do so, and your face scrunches up in agony for a moment, as you set yourself back in place in a slightly more comfortable position.

"May I remind you again, this is all your own fault. You wouldn't talk to me, and like I said, I'm not giving up on this job easily. So tell me, why do you hate me so much?" he asks you, narrowing his eyes and crossing one foot in front of the other in a casual, confident stance.

"Cause you're an asshole??" you say, narrowing your eyes back at him, cocking your head to the side.

"And you're not?" he asks, smirking.

"You know I'm not," you growl, eyebrows furrowed together deeply. "You fucking know I'm not, I'm a fucking angel, actually, and everyone in that damn office loves me, and I never start shit with anyone. You know damn well that you started this, you did, you like messing with me and seeing me suffer, it must be entertaining to you cause your life is so fucking stuffy and perfect and boring. I mean those fucking suits you wear, to our simple little government-funded office. Where do you get off dressing like that??"

"I could ask you the same thing," he quips, raising his eyebrows momentarily. You eye him sharply, the question in your gaze obvious. "Your clothes, y/n, I can't believe Mr. Kangsoo lets you wear skirts that short in the office. Or tight shirts with no bra."

"He's probably never even thought about it, because he's never sexualized me like a fucking creep," you respond, face flushed from the idea that Yunho was looking at you like that for all of these months. It's mortifying, horrifying, and makes you feel suddenly so sick in your body, like you wish you could jump out of it. But you also can't deny that you've looked at him that way too, that the suits do it for you in a way that's almost embarrassing.

"I'm not a creep, I've just never had a boss who allows that," he says, sighing. "I can't deny that it's distracting." The words shutter through you, adding to the sick feeling growing in your low gut. It makes tears form in your eyes again too, from how humiliated you feel by his admission, that every day in the office when he was tormenting you, he was also gawking over your body in this way.

"You're so fucking gross," you mutter, looking at the ground in front of you, adjusting yourself again as your legs begin to ache from the position you're sitting in.

"What else do you think of me?" he prompts, loving to watch you squirm around in clear discomfort on the floor.

"I'm- this is so fucking disturbing Yunho, you're- I'm gonna-" you stop yourself from saying 'report this to the police,' because that visceral fear that he might kill you is still there. Even if he isn't planning on doing it, you don't want to say or do anything that might motivate him to, so you let the words die on your tongue, awkwardly huffing out the breath you'd just taken. Your gaze jumps around, but finds his face again fast, your mind working hard to try to understand what the hell is happening. Does he really just want to talk? Everything he's done seems too severe to be justified by just that, but you've found him hard to read since you met him. As you gaze at his face you see a smile on his lips, a smile that's revealed a small dimple on his left cheek and almost looks sweet. "Why the hell are you smiling?" you snap, your look severe and threatening.

"I'm just glad we're finally talking," he sighs, crossing his feet in the opposite direction. You just fix with him with a look of disgust, not wanting to speak anymore if that's truly what's bringing him joy in this moment. He knows saying that will shut you up for a bit, but he's okay with that, having things of his own that he needs to get off his chest. Now that the two of you are finally alone, away from the office, he can say the things that he's wondered for months.

"Y/n, can I ask you a question?" he starts, but he doesn't wait for an answer before barreling on. "Did you get into our field because you yourself deal with mental health issues, or have some big trauma from your past? I only ask, because, well, everyone at my last office fit that description, and I'm pretty sure everyone at our's does too, even Jongho. Everyone had to go to therapy as a kid, or in college cause of severe anxiety, and that's what led them to wanting to work in this field. Am I right, that that's true for you too?"

Your eyes remain fixed on him but you don't move your head for a second, not nodding or shaking it in an answer. The glassiness that forms in your eyes, though, is impossible to cover up, and Yunho can see from the tears starting to form that he's entirely, absolutely correct.

"You're very neurotic, do you know that?" he continues, and his question almost sounds genuine. "I mean, me hiding your favorite mug has you angry enough to slam the dishwasher closed? That mug isn't even yours, it's a part of the set that Dr. Acharya got the office two years ago as a Christmas present, meaning it belongs to everyone at the office. At least, that's what you told me my first day. Sure, everyone has their favorite mugs, but no one is as obsessively possessive about it as you are. The littlest things set you off, stuff that shouldn't even affect you. What does it matter that I hid the mug? Who the fuck cares what mug you use? You dropped Jongho's favorite mug two months ago and it smashed everywhere, and he didn't freak out about it. He just started using a different one. Did you even know that was his favorite one? No, because he didn't insist on using it every day. Do you realize how ridiculous all of your little routines and patterns are? It's like if everything doesn't go exactly how you want it to, you'll die."

"No, that's you," you sob, his words pulling emotions out of you that you can't even describe. He's the rich spoiled boy, he's the one who's never been told no in his life. He's the one who can't take disturbance to his needs, not you, not you, not me...

Your gut roils at his insult, and you realize in an instant that he's absolutely right, and that probably everyone at the office has thought that about you for years, but tolerated it anyway. Tears flow down your cheeks fast, and god you wish you could somehow wriggle your arms free, and punch that pretty face of his to make him shut up.

"That's not me, actually. I do just fine dealing with whatever comes up at the office each day. I can even handle our arguments just fine, and don’t walk around with a scowl on my face all day. You know everyone is fucking scared to talk to you when you do that, right?"

"Shut up, shut up!!" you scream, the pain in your head growing the more you think about all your failings, all the ways you've fucked up in the last six months. That awful feeling of shame you were so scared to face earlier is hitting you now, and just like you thought, the pain is so bad that you don't think you're going to come out the other side of it alive.

"Don't tell me to shut up just cause I'm right, y/n. Fucking listen and take accountability for once," he snaps, his face more like anger now that you're yelling at him again, instead of just talking. "I don't think you understand how easy it's been for me to read you, since the moment I started at that job. Am I wrong for liking it when something I do pisses you off? Maybe, I can't help that it's fun. I could see this whole conflict unfolding from the first day you turned cold with me, and I knew that there wasn't a fucking thing I could do to stop that. So I thought I'd just let it happen, and try my best to enjoy the ride. I can't change the fact that you're so caught up in your own head that you ca-"

"AAHHHHHHHH!!!!" you scream, just to drown out the noise, just to make the pain in your head stop. The scream is guttural, loud and painful as it exits your throat, but you keep screaming until your lungs are empty because the relief it's providing you is at least something. When you run out of air you take another ragged breath in and then you scream again, this time the sound harsher, your throat struggling to handle it. Tears are forming and streaming down your face faster than they ever have, and your body jerks against the ropes on your wrists, as you try to muster all your strength and somehow finally break free. Unable to do so, you scream again, eyes closed as you heave from the pain, your skin no doubt damaged from rope burn.

"Y/n, y/n, calm down," you hear, Yunho's voice soft and close to you. A hand comes to brush the tears from your cheek, but you jerk away violently, your wrists snagging painfully on the rope at a different angle this time.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" you cry, but it comes out softer than intended because your throat is already so worn, and you cough hard on your next inhale.

"Y/n, seriously, take a deep breath, stop," Yunho says, backing up slightly and not touching you again, but still sitting himself close enough to you that you can feel his presence, feel the warmth radiating off his body. The shock of it makes you realize just how cold you are, only a thin long sleeve shirt on now that your coat has been discarded somewhere in the hall.

"SHUT UP, GET THE FUCK AWAY!!" you cry again, wincing hard from the pain in our throat, your breaths ragged as you try to recover from the pain and ready yourself to scream again.

"Y/n..." he warns, but you just scream again, so entirely afraid of the feelings inside that you can't think to do anything else. "I SAID, STOP!" he finally yells, and the force of it is so strong that it nearly knocks you back, all the breath in your lungs leaving immediately.

You stare at him wide eyed, seeing now that he's crouched down on the floor, about five feet from you. The fear is evident in your gaze, and so is the fact that you're holding your breath and you have absolutely no idea.

"You should breathe, you know," he says, his voice suddenly back to the neutral tone of earlier. You snap back into your body for a moment, shakily taking in the breath your lungs were crying for, and you notice you're shaking, aches and pains searing through almost every part of you. "You don't know what's good for you, do you?" he continues, coming to sit cross legged in front of you, his arms resting on his legs and his hands clasped together. You wriggle in front of him, wincing as you try to move your aching leg to a more comfortable position. You struggle to find it, getting stuck in a spot that's even worse, and you sigh in frustration. "Just sit cross-legged, it'll be more comfortable," he sighs, moving forward towards you, with his hands outstretched. You lurch away from his touch again, and he sits back down, sighing harder. "I was going to help you change your sitting position, cause I know it's hard to do with your arms bound," he says, and you don't have time to wonder why he knows that. You stare back with a hardened gaze, eyes piercing daggers into him. "Will you let me help you?" he asks, and it's the first time all conversation that his tone has changed in that way; it's softer, warmer, and for a moment makes your chest flutter. You don't answer him again, you just stare and stare and try to make sense of his words, but somehow he can tell you won't fight him now, and he moves forward to help you, holding your body up just enough so you can swing your legs under you in this different way.

Once you're sitting you do feel relief, your knees thanking you now that they aren't bearing the majority of your weight, your ankles thankful that they're resting at a much more natural angle.

"You need to stop fighting me, and fighting those ropes, or you're just gonna keep hurting yourself," he says, voice calm.

"I didn't fucking agree to this!" you snap, your changing feelings giving you whiplash. "You've tied me up against my will, Yunho, or did you somehow forget? This isn't some cute little scene I agreed to, you forced this on me!" you yell, trying hard to be forceful without hurting your throat again.

"And it's going to be good for you in the long run, if you'd just relax and stop fighting me. Have you considered that maybe I know what's best?" He quirks a brow, eyeing you now from only two feet away, that heat still radiating off of him. Noticing it again you begin to shiver, your body shaking involuntarily. Your muscles feel tight and painful from the restriction, and the cold isn't helping one bit.

"How the fuck is tying me up against my will good for me?" you spit, leaning forward every so slightly now that you can.

"I know you don't want to lose that job," he says, eyeing you intensely, his gaze boring into you. "I know that job means everything to you. And I know that if I didn't intervene, you would have lost it. You were too scared to come talk to me. You were never going to admit to your part in our arguments, to your fault. You clearly have too much pride to admit any wrongdoing, almost ever."

It really is sick how right he is about everything, and you begin to wonder if he somehow can read minds.

"Listen, I will let you go later, you have my word. I'm not gonna kill you. But I'm pretty sure this is the only way I could ever get you to apologize to me, and without doing that, we would never be able to resolve this." His eyes still haven't left yours, and this close you can see the details of his iris, the stubble on his cheeks and chin, and the small birth mark on the side of his jaw. It makes you sick, he makes you sick, every little perfect thing about him.

"Look, I'll start. I'm sorry for hiding your mug, I'm sorry for leaving you little notes, which were really just jokes but I know you took them offensively, I'm sorry for being hard on you in the admin meetings. I'm sorry for pissing you off and finding it funny. None of that was cool."

"That wasn't a very good apology," you retort, rolling your eyes.

"Still better than no apology at all," he replies, and you can't help but roll them again. "Did you hear what I said earlier, when you were screaming?" he asks, and you shake your head. "I was saying, I think you were so caught up in your head and convinced that I was out to get you, that you didn't realize in all those little notes I was trying to let you know that I like you."

"You have a funny way of showing it," you say, huffing in anger.

"Was it not obvious?" he asks.

"Was what not obvious?"

"That I like you."

"You insulted me in every single one!"

"I called you pretty in every single one."

"Yeah, in an insulting, 'you're pretty and stupid and don't know shit' kind of way."

"I never meant it like that. That was your interpr-"

"Sure." You roll your eyes hard again, sighing in exasperation.

"Don't interrupt me," he retorts, eyes hard.

"I'll do what I fucking want," you reply, exhausted by the conversation now, losing control of yourself.

"I think you're forgetting how vulnerable you are right now," he responds, scooting forward enough so that he can reach behind you and tug on the ropes, both checking that they're still secured and reminding you just how trapped you are.

I don't care anymore, you think, dropping your head, and it almost feels like your body has given in now. It's not that the fight is gone, but something about the change in position has your body relaxed, now that no part of you is actively getting hurt by your sitting position.

"What was that?" Yunho asks, his voice soft.

"Huh?" you snap your head up, eye him with confusion.

"Did you just say you don't care anymore?" Your eyes go slightly wide, realizing you'd said that aloud and not just in your head to yourself. You nod in response, eyes stuck on him, on the black hair that's fallen in his face, on the way his hand frantically pushes it away. "What do you mean?"

"I don't care, hurt me, do whatever, I don't care," you say, body relaxing in defeat.

"No, no we're not doing that," he says, and you squint at him in frustration. "You always just give up when things are hard, or when you think you'll fail. It's fucking pathetic."

Tears are back in your eyes, and you look at the floor in front of you, the small expanse of wood separating the two of you.

"I know, I FUCKING KNOW I'M PATHETIC, IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT ME TO SAY?!" you scream, frustration boiling up again.

"Yes, it is," he says with a satisfied smile.

"You want me to just tear myself down in front of you, is that it??"

"Finally you're understanding," he sighs, looking you over with what almost could be pride.

"Fuck you," you mutter, trying to bring yourself down from yet another surge in adrenaline.

"Fucking apologize. Tell me what you did wrong. I'm tired of waiting," he snaps, and the words feel like they lance through you. It makes you notice your body again, notice the way you're shaking hard from the cold.

"I'm fucking freezing Yunho," you say, tone begging him to take mercy on you.

"I know, I can see you shivering. Apologize to me and I'll get you a blanket," he spits.

"No," you whine, your body pleading with you, desperately wanting relief from the cold.

"Your nipples are so hard I can see them through your shirt." He's smirking, staring unabashedly at your chest, and it makes you scream again, writhing around with that unbridled anger, making your body hurt again.

"Y/n, y/n, fucking hell," Yunho lurches forward to grab onto you, physically forcing you to stop moving, stop hurting yourself even more. His arms are wrapped around you, your head pulled into his chest, and you can smell him now, the faint musk coming from under his arms, the slight sour edge making your head feel funny.

"You lied to boss," you rasp out, voice muffled against his chest.

"What?" he asks, settling down to now hold you in place.

"You said you weren't attracted to me. In the meeting." He just grunts in response, so ambiguously that you can't tell if he's agreeing or not. "Is that not what you meant by, 'I like you'?

"It is," he replies, sighing.

"Then why did you lie?" you ask, surprised he would do that in front of your boss, even given the nature of the question.

"Cause you did first," he responds, matter of factly.

"I didn't lie," you mutter, holding your eyes closed, your head still feeling funny as you try to shake free whatever feelings are enveloping you.

"You either lied to him, or to yourself," he says, finally pulling back, seeming to trust that you won't flail around again. But the slightest muscle twitch of your arm has his grip back on you in seconds, and you just sit there staring up at him, his hands gripping your arms tight to keep you from pulling on the ropes. "Which was it?"

"Stop," you whisper, harshly, your spit spraying in his face. He wipes it away with the back of his hand, eyeing you harshly, something clicking into place behind his eyes.

"You're really gonna make me fucking do this, aren't you," he grumbles, almost like it's just to himself. He shakes his head, sighing sharply, and you eye him with worry. He looks half disappointed, but half amused, and once he picks his hand up and flicks your already-hard nipple, the look becomes pure amusement just from your reaction.

"Ahh," you involuntarily moan, mortified at the sounds that just left your lips.

"You're sensitive," he chuckles, pinching the other harshly, making your whole body jolt in reaction.

"Yunho, stop, please, please," you beg, the pathetic, pleading look in your eye making his whole body react.

"If you'd just do what I ask, you could avoid these things," he chuckles, roughly pinching both of them now. Your back arches, and you fight to keep your breathing steady and not make any more embarrassing noises. But the pain and pleasure he's causing you is making it hard, and small gasps and whines leave your throat. "I think some part of you wanted this, though," he chuckles.

When he pulls back he's eyeing your arms, and the look of resolve and certainty in his eyes has you panicking, your brain struggling to make sense of it in any way.

"Please Yunho, please no," you whine again.

"Doll, you've left me no choice," he responds, sighing deeply as if he's thinking hard, not bothering to look you in the eye. Suddenly he's down to the side of you, and you feel his hands working fast behind you, the ropes pushed and pulled in various directions, making the sore skin of your wrists ache with every change of pressure. You're out of words now, utterly confused and helpless, and you lack the ability to fight him anymore, your body succumbing to exhaustion and not wanting to be bruised any further.

Suddenly you feel one of your wrists is free, the muscles in your shoulder relieved at finally being able to move, your body shuttering as it tries to work out the knots that have formed. You're partially free now, you realize for a moment, but just as fast you feel a final tug that loosens your other wrist from the bedpost, and then Yunho is yanking your wrists around to tie them in front of you instead. In a flash he's lifted you up, setting you down on the side of his bed, on your side. You're facing him, where he's now sat on the floor, as he grabs your legs and bends them up towards your arms, beginning to secure all of your limbs together in multiple knots. You lay in an almost catatonic state, staring at the wall of his room, the closet door partially cracked. You can see some of the suits and a few other random jackets you don't think you've ever seen before. You're so zoned out on the wall, so out of your body and out of your mind, that you don't even notice your pants and panties being pulled down to your thighs. It isn't until you feel the skin to skin contact, Yunho's hand gripping your thigh where it meets your hips, that you notice.

"What the fuck!" you squeal, head snapping back to him again, and the look on his face is cocky and self-satisfied, like he's proud of the reaction he's just pulled out of you.

"Yunho, please, no no no, please," you start babbling, repeating the words over and over until they feel almost meaningless. You can tell exactly where his hands are headed, where this whole thing is headed, but you don't have the physical strength in you to fight anymore. Or, more accurately, fighting with your body seems like the worst thing you can do right now, something that will only hurt you more and probably rile him up, too. He can see the gears turning in your head, and he's pressing, waiting for you to break, because it didn't take him long today to realize that he has a better read on you than you've ever had on yourself. You continue to babble your displeasure as he moves his hand up higher, higher, just brushing past your core and making you wince, but he doesn't reply to your words with words of his own, because he knows now that there's no point. He moves his hand up to your ass slowly, a trail of your wetness following his fingers, and even he's shocked by how much was there between your legs. He's sure you have no idea, that you're totally oblivious to the way your body has reacted to his words, his actions, to being bound and unable to move.

He's sure that for months now you had no idea that so much of the frustration you felt while being around him was the frustration of being teased, your body wanting certain touches that he was never giving you. He was certain you weren't taking care of it enough yourself, because he saw your thighs clench all the time when you stared at him, and sometimes he could even swear he smelled the arousal pooling in your panties, your short skirts leaving too little of a barrier.

Now, finally he was touching you, and it didn't surprise him that that soft wet part between your legs had reacted so quickly. It also wasn't a shock that your brain still hadn't caught up, that you still didn't see what was so obvious to him. He knew it would take more than a gentle brush of your clit for you to finally realize it, so moving his hand back down towards your center, he quickly found your entrance, firmly brushing the pad of his middle finger up your slit until he rubbed right over your sensitive bud again.

"Fuck! Okay, fuck, stop it, I'll apologize," you cry, the soft pad of his finger sending sparks through you as soon as it made contact with your clit. The feeling made your body shake again, but suddenly a warmth was filling your lower gut and you couldn't be more shocked by the feeling, and by how inviting, even comforting, it felt. It was another moment where you were ricocheted back into your body, into the present moment, and the strange nature of everything that was happening was too much to make sense of. All you knew is you needed your confusion to stop, because now more than any other feeling it was your inner conflict that scared you, the fact that you had earlier wished for him to grab you, the fact that now your body seemed so content to just stay in these ropes forever, as long as your position was comfortable enough.

All you could think to do now was to give him what he wanted, and what that was exactly you couldn't remember, other than that he wanted you to say something.

"I'm-I'm sorry, okay, I'm really sorry, I don't know how everything got as fucked up as- as it got, oh god, I'm sorry- I- I promise you I mean it," you babble, eyes closed as you try to control your breathing enough to speak.

"What are you sorry for?" he asks you, his face close enough that you feel his hot breath, his voice gentle but steady.

"I'm- I- I don't know, I- I-" You're distracted by his hand, but the way it's steadily making small circles over your clit and sending more of that heat into you, your mind less and less able to focus on your attempt at an apology.

"You don't know?" he asks, and it's patronizing, you both know it, but it doesn't even hurt you now. You just nod, sniffling as you whisper 'I'm sorry,' your eyes getting wet and heavy with how overwhelmed you feel. "You can't think straight now, can you?" he asks you, his finger working you steadily, his nose picking up on that scent he's become so familiar with. You shake your head, your breathing picking up gently from the pleasure enveloping you like a warm blanket. "Good, you think too much anyway," he chuckles, watching your face intently, his pride surging at the way he's picking you apart so perfectly.

"I think I know why you're sorry," he says, making you whine in response, nervous for what he's about to say. "I'm gonna guess, I think I'm right," he smiles, but you don't even see it with your eyes glued shut. He's happy though, seeing you like that, because he knows that finally you're in your body completely, and you're accepting what he's known you need. "You're sorry cause you know you fucked up, don't you? You know you took things too personally, you overreacted, you couldn't let my jokes or my pranks just be that, you had to make it more. And once you reacted that way once, you felt entitled to react that way every time, didn't you? You're sorry that you didn't stop that snowball in its tracks, before it became this huge thing, right?"

You groan in response to him, pissed as can be, but you can't tell him he's wrong because you're physically incapable now of lying. Something in the way he's making you feel, the way he's touching you, has melted a layer of your mental shield away, and you see now every word he's said is reflected inside you. The thoughts had been there for months, but you'd managed to avoid them almost completely, the occasional blip causing guilt and worry to cloud you for a day or two. But this was the first time you saw it truly for all that it was, how deep the guilt cut into you, how you spoke about him so nastily to other people because you really wanted to say those things to yourself.

"You'd never be able to forgive yourself if you admitted those things, huh?" he continues, making your breath hitch. "You don't want to admit them because you're scared you'll never feel the same about yourself ever again, right? Cause you're this perfect little angel, and you've been that for so many years, the perfect baby of the office, the perfect student in school, I'm sure, and admitting to yourself that you can be cruel, that would ruin the entire image you've created for yourself, wouldn't it?" Tears are streaming down your face now as you involuntarily nod, your whole body somehow enveloped in the warmth his touch is providing, despite how cold it is. Now that you're in your body, really truly in your body, you can notice the little things about your environment; you even notice the wind howling outside, not the loudest you could imagine, but enough that you know the storm is still blustering on. You try to blink open your eyes to look at him, but everything is blurred with your tears, and you vigorously shake your head back and forth, trying in vain to clear your vision. As if he can read your mind, Yunho's free hand comes up to wipe them away, and for some reason now it doesn't feel so bad, his hand touching your face gently, even if it still feels so new and strange. Once he's wiped away the tears you can get a good look at him, your faces only a few inches apart now.

"Am I right?" he asks, genuine, you know it's genuine, and you can't fucking believe it looking at him. He feels like one massive contradiction right now, and all you can do is whisper 'yeah' in response. Your answer clearly pleases him, and you suddenly feel his hand's movement slow, falter, and then he's moving his fingers down towards your entrance, pressing into you gently, only one finger at first.

"Yunho," you groan while shutting your eyes again, the feel of it so foreign, because if you were honest with yourself you hadn't had someone touch you in this way in years, and you weren't really one to put things inside of yourself if it was just you taking care of your needs.

"I know you need this," he responds, gently starting to pump in and out, the muscles of your cunt getting used to the feelings of pressure and release that they'd missed for so long.

"You have to forgive yourself," he starts up again, as he gradually starts upping his pace, working slowly and methodically. "You have to let yourself go of being that perfect angel. It's not realistic. You're a human, you're going to fuck up sometimes. And sometimes you have such a big crush on your handsome coworker that, well, you start acting out. And even you don't realize what you're doing, cause you're so caught up in your own head." You groan and roll your eyes when he calls himself handsome, and you still don't think you fully believe the rest of what he's said, but the first part, the part about forgiving yourself and freeing yourself of that perfect image, is calling to a part of you. "You're very sensitive, and I know you don't want to be, but you are. You can't ignore that, or it's gonna catch up with you time and time again."

He adds another finger, curling them up inside you in a perfect way, and you almost stop listening to what he's saying because at this point the pleasure is taking over your senses completely. He adds his thumb to your clit now, the feelings increasing exponentially, your clit feeling hot and fiery under his touch. It all still feels so foreign, so new, and something within you, particularly within the place he's touching you, still feels the need to hold back, to worry, to be tense. He can feel it too, and he guessed himself that you hadn't been touched in a while, from everything he'd observed about you. He figured you were someone who might have written off relationships and sex entirely, someone too focused on what their duty to the world was, to maintaining the image of good morals, that you weren't partaking in those things people consider selfish, or self-indulgent. He even wondered for a bit if you'd never been touched, but that seemed unlikely from some of the random comments he'd overheard in your conversations with Tally.

"You know, you can't come if you're so tense down there," he says, and again it's kind of patronizing, but you don't really care. "You have to let go."

"I- I've never come from, inside, st- stimulation," you stutter, looking at him directly, hoping to convey that despite your state you're being completely sincere.

"Really?"

"I- I can't," you say, shaking your head, thinking of all of your sexual exploits, the list of which can fit on one hand.

"I'm gonna try," he chuckles, his focus zeroing in on your body's reactions to his movements. "I really do need you to relax those muscles for me, relax your hips too. They're too tense, do you even feel that?" he asks, tapping the side of your thigh where the muscle is taught. You shake your head, frowning and burying your face into the duvet cover you're laying on. "No, don't shy away from me. Don't go back into your head. I know that's why you haven't come in the past, cause you were too in your head. You can't do that. Come on, just focus on my touch, think about how it feels, nothing else."

You try with all you have to follow his instructions, keeping your eyes on his face as you watch him furrow his brow in concentration, the muscles in his jaw flexing for a moment when he changes the angle of his hand ever so slightly. The new spot he was hitting inside felt so perfect, so shockingly deep, and finally your body started to cave into the feelings, your breathy moans coming out as you lost yourself in it, not thinking anymore about where you were or why you were there.

"You know you're not perfect, deep down you know that, and you need to accept that. You're not a robot, you're like all the rest of us, fucked up in so many ways, wanting selfishly for life to always go your way, wanting everyone to like you, praise you, cherish you. And that's okay, it doesn't make you some horrible person. You're neurotic, sensitive, intense, so what? You'll never not be those things, and that's okay. Just fucking let yourself be a human, so you don't get so fucking hung up on every little thing wrong with me." He punctuates the last word, reminding you why you're here. His hand is working you perfectly, and mixed with all that he's saying it's all encompassing, the overwhelming intensity you're feeling. Suddenly you feel something building deep within you, a coil about to snap, and you feel your legs begin to shake before it's even washing over you. The most intense orgasm of your life erupts within you, snaking out from your core down to your feet and back up again, surging to your head and making everything go gray and fuzzy, your mind blinded with a pleasure you've never known. You hear distant, warbled words coming from Yunho's mouth still, but you can't make them out as your orgasm builds in waves, lasting longer than you expect and completely knocking the wind from your lungs. As you come down you’re breathing ragged, so ragged, and you don't even realize that you've clamped down so hard on Yunho's hand that he can't move it anymore. You stare up at him, pupils blown and your face flushed, and in a moment he leans down to place a soft peck on your cheek, taking you by surprise.

"Why are you kissing me?" you ask, eyeing him with confusion and contempt, the action seeming absurd in the current circumstances.

"I'm proud of you. You finally gave into me, you're finally doing what I wanted you to," he replies. It's fucked, you know the sentiment is creepy and strange and so genuinely absurd, but you can't help feeling flattered by it. A small smile sneaks onto your lips, and Yunho sees how you're feeling too. "God you're a sucker for praise," he laughs, slowly removing his hand now that you've relaxed enough. "All you want to hear is that you're good, you're perfect. Can't bear anything else, can you?" You shake your head, as he stands up from where he's been sitting, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants, pulling his cock out swiftly, eyeing you up and down. Your face is one of shock, mostly at seeing the size of him; you're not sure where this is headed exactly, but you just hope he'll be gentle with you, whatever he does.

"What, you thought I wasn't going to do this?" he asks, starting to move onto the bed beside you.

"No, it's just..." you sigh, shaking your head, not even sure what to fucking say, still in the haze of your orgasm.

"Oh, you didn't think I'd be this big," he laughs.

"You're so fucking full of yourself," you mutter, rolling your eyes. "Just make it quick, please," you say, almost under your breath, regretting it the moment it's left your lips.

"I'll take as much time as I fucking want with you," he responds, lining himself up with your still soaking entrance, rubbing the head around to gather up some of your wetness. He's fucking into you sideways, his body over yours as you remain on your side, bound and unable to move at all. He enters you slowly, feeling the stretch himself, seeing your eyebrows furrow in what must be pain.

"How long has it been?" he asks, leaning over you as he finally bottoms out, staying put as he lets your body adjust to the size of him. You look confused, so he clarifies, "since you've been fucked?"

You groan, the majority of your brainpower taken up in dealing with the strange mix of pain and pleasure happening between your legs. You don't have it in you to fight with him now, and you don't really want to; you're almost enjoying it now, just letting him talk and belittle and say whatever he pleases.

Once he feels your body relax just that little bit he needs, he moves his hips back, gently pushing himself back in again, but quickly setting a pace that feels good for him. He's holding one arm around your back and anchoring that hand on the back of your neck; the other arm is bent at the elbow, supporting him and holding onto your bound legs and arms, anchoring him to you. The thrusts feel intense, sharp, and biting at first, but soon all you can feel is the way he's repeatedly hitting your cervix, his cock so deep inside you that you feel like you might explode. You can't help the pathetic mewls you're making, eyes closed as you hear his steady grunts and heavy breathing so close to your ear.

"I know you've rejected tons of men, if it's been as long as I think," he says, and you feel his breath brushing across your cheek and neck, making you shiver. "Not just men, I should say. You're so fucking oblivious to everything. Do you even realize that Tally has a huge crush on you? I'm sure she'd love to fuck your brains out," he chuckles, making you groan in annoyance again, not believing him for a second. "I'm sorry, I know, forgive me. I can't help myself, I just love telling you all the things I know you don't realize." His pace hasn't let up, if anything it's increased, and his grip on you is tightening, his torso now flush with yours and his face only inches from your own. "Fuck, I'm not gonna last much longer, shit you're tight," he sighs, a groan rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest. He knows his pace will leave you sore tomorrow, but it feels too good for him to stop, and it seems just the right thing to finally get your mind off all of the superfluous, stressful stuff you usually obsessively think about. It's not just that either; he can feel your body slowly coming undone again, and though it's built differently than the last time, the tell tale signs are there in the way your hips start moving against him, your breathing changing just like it did before. You come hard again, the feeling erupting from even higher inside your core this time, and it feels even more intense the second time around, your whole body shaking intensely this time.

"See, your body needed this," he whispers in your ear, his hard thrusts continuing through your aftershocks, soon becoming painful and hard to bear. Your face has turned sour as he chases his own climax, and even as bad as it feels, part of you is so content to just sit here and take it. The feeling of having no other option, of being held here and used for another's pleasure, it makes some of your internal confusion go away. You liked this part at least; maybe everything that came before was not to your liking, but this part definitely was.

He finishes with a final hard thrust, groaning out a 'fuck', before pressing his hips flush with yours and keeping them there. You feel his warm cum filling you, his warm body wrapping around you, and finally you do truly feel warm, from the inside out. This was a feeling you could get used to, your head fuzzy and soft and lacking the usual worries you have, your body relaxed, spent, and warm.

It isn't long that you're in that position, Yunho pulling out of you quickly, walking over to his bathroom to grab a towel and start wiping you and his comforter clean of the mess he'd made. The absence of him left you feeling cold again, your body stiffening up faster than you thought it would, and your shivers returning as soon as he took the damp towel to your most sensitive area. Eyes closed you're still holding onto the remnants of that blissful feeling, especially the way your brain feels so wonderfully empty. You're surprised when you feel Yunho messing with your ropes, assuming he'd just leave you there for a little while, or maybe for a long while, it was hard to say. But quickly he's undone the entirety of the knots, and he tosses the rope onto the floor, manually moving your limbs to help your body stretch out and begin returning blood flow to the places that lost it.

It hurts when he does this, though it feels good too, but you whine and complain the whole time, even as he assures you it's best and it's needed. He then slowly takes off your clothes entirely, leaving you naked and exposed, and the cold is almost overbearing now, making your body ache all the way into your bones.

"It's fucking cold, you asshole," you groan, tucking yourself back up into that fetal position you were just in for so long, despite the fact that the ropes are gone now.

"Just give me a minute, I know," he sighs, somewhere behind you, over in the direction of his bathroom. You hear what must be the bathtub faucet turn on, the strong current of water sounding clearly through the quiet house. Then he's coming over to you, wrapping you up in his arms and carrying you that way, setting you gently into his huge tub before it's even finished filling. The hot water feels like it's sizzling your skin upon first contact, but soon your body relaxes in the warmth, especially your back once the water reaches all the way up to your neck. His tub is nice; there are spots designed specifically to rest your arms on, the slope of the side a comfortable angle for relaxing down onto.

"Give me your arms," he says, and you look up at him begrudgingly, holding your arms out of the water like it's the hardest thing in the world.

"Little brat," he mutters, taking the first into his hands and slowly applying some lotion to your rope burns, wrapping it loosely in a thin bandage. He does the same to the other, setting them both on the sides of the tub, out of the water. "Keep them there, I'm going to get some ice. We need to ice those burns so they don't bruise too badly," he says, and you just stare through him, not nodding or saying anything. He doesn't need that kind of confirmation though, he knows you'll follow his commands. He returns a few minutes later, two ice packs and more bandages in hand, and somehow balanced between it all, your phone.

"It looks like you have some missed calls," he says, showing you your phone screen. You see three missed calls from Yunji, and a slew of texts, and your heart jumps back up in speed momentarily, even in your relaxed and numb state.

"I gotta call her now," you say, your words rushed, reaching out your bandaged wrist to grab at your phone. Yunho holds it just out of reach though, and then sets it down on the counter by the sink, turning back to you with a knowing look.

"I need to ice your wrists first. Then we'll call her," he says.

"Yunho, seriously, she's gonna call the fucking police, I know her," you respond, eyeing him sharply with disapproval.

"And you, seriously, need to wait a moment," he snaps, and you really don't like this control now, because it's affecting someone else, not just you.

"I fucking hate you," you mutter, pushing yourself up despite your weak and painful muscles, moving yourself out of his bathtub without a care in the world for all of the water you're spilling everywhere.

"Okay, okay, fine," he concedes, holding onto your shoulders while your one foot is still in the tub, not letting you move any further. "I'm putting it on speaker on the side of the tub, so that I can ice your wrists." Your faces are inches apart, the look in his eye is intense, almost like he's compelling you to agree with him.

"Fine," you sigh, sitting yourself back down, your body basking in being back in the water. Then, as he said, he's set your phone on the side of the tub, somehow guessing your passcode and opening it with ease, calling Yunji immediately. As the call begins to ring he sets to work on your wrists again, gently wrapping the ice packs around the smaller bandages already on your sensitive skin.

"Girl, oh my god, where are you??" Yunji answers, her panic obvious.

"I'm- I'm at Yunho's, I'm fine though, I swear-" you start, knowing she'll be horrified by just his name alone.

"Oh my god what???" she cuts you off, gasping. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Yes I'm okay, Yun, I promise. I just- I ran into him on my way back from the store, and well, I got sort of, tied up, talking with him, and then the storm came so- so now I'm stuck here." Yunho's face breaks into a smirk, knowing just how literal two of the words you just said are.

"Oh god, you poor thing, are you sure you're okay? That man is insane," she sighs. Yunho eyes you, a playful look on his face, almost like he's trying to avoid laughing.

"Seriously, I'm okay, I promise. It was actually really good, I guess, talking about things. We were more, uh, honest I guess? I- I don't know, there's a lot to process. It was weird. But I'm okay, I- I swear," you sigh, wishing you weren't stuttering so much over your words.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asks again.

"I know I sound like a mess, I'm sorry. The storm is kind of freaking me out," you reply.

"It's okay hun, don't apologize. I can't believe you're stuck there with him. God, I don't think you'll be able to come home tonight. Is there somewhere you can sleep there?" Yunho nods at her question, eyeing you as he does.

"Uh, yeah, he has a guest room here. He said I could stay in there. At least it's separate, my own space," you answer her.

"God, I'm so sorry you're there. I shouldn't have let you go to the store, I should have stopped you..." she trials off, and you can bet her hand is slapped over her face in frustration.

"No, don't apologize Yun, I think it was good that this happened. I mean, I don't know, at least something has changed between me and him. And you had no idea that the storm would return so quickly like it did. It was my own stupidity, if anything, I just-" you cut yourself off, shaking your head side to side against the hard porcelain of the tub. "Thank you for checking up on me, I'm sorry I missed your calls. I was just talking with him, I got distracted. I hate that I worried you so much." It feels a little weird lying to her, but above all you want her to know you appreciate how much she looks out for you.

"It's okay, I'm just glad you're safe and okay. And hopefully tomorrow it'll clear up enough that you can come back here where you belong."

Her last word brings tears to your eyes, thinking of your perfect little apartment and just how much of a home you two have made of it.

"I love you so much," you sigh, looking over at your phone, wishing you were seeing her face instead.

"I love you too, I wish you were here," she replies.

"I know, me too," you say.

"We can keep talking if you want."

"I- I should probably go, I'm starving so I guess I need to go ask Yunho about dinner. But I'll call later, if that's okay? I'm sure I'll be bored as shit," you chuckle, and she does too, the tension finally breaking.

"Sounds good, call me whenever. I hope he has something decent for you to eat. I doubt he can cook or anything, if he's such a spoiled rich boy." You both laugh in sync, Yunho rolling his eyes as he places the final bandage on your second wrist, securing the ice packs in place.

"Okay, talk to you soon," you say, smirking up at him.

"Bye bye," she replies, hanging up the call.

"You two are so mean," he sighs, shaking his head and walking out of the room, and you relax into the silence of the room, your wrists starting to feel the cold of the ice packs, the relief palpable. Your body is wrecked, you can feel it intensely, but the warm bath relaxing your muscles and ice on your wrists is making it bearable, your body already on the path towards healing. Yunho returns about ten minutes later, when you've almost nodded off, and takes a small washcloth into the warm water, using it to wipe the snot and tears that have stained your cheeks. Then he's feeding you a warm cup of tea, holding it as your arms lay unusable at your sides; he does the same with the small bowl of stew he's heated for you, the tastes rich and fresh in a way that make it obvious it's homemade. The attentiveness doesn't feel overly sweet, but the calm that's settled in the air between you isn't something you've experienced with him at all, the entire time you've known one another. You're both silent, comfortable, and the warm stew is just so delicious, the meat tender and soft and perfectly seasoned. Your senses are overwhelmed in solace, your breaths deep and stable. Your nerves have returned to you, so you're no longer numb. But instead of the high strung alertness that usually accompanies you, your body is present but calm.

When you finally finish the stew and tea, thirty minutes have passed in total silence, Yunho taking his time with feeding you, letting your body relax in the hot water. He places the empty bowl and mug on the counter, moving back to start unwrapping the ice packs, and then beckoning you to stand, bringing a huge fluffy towel to wrap around your shoulders. The towel dwarfs you, keeping the cold away, and you gently step out of the tub, following Yunho wherever he leads you.

"Can you walk?" he asks, and you nod your head, following him over towards the counter. He pulls out a brush from one of the drawers, gently taking it to the knots that had formed in your hair, the ends damp from the tub. After he finishes he leads you out of his room, down the hall two doors down, and you enter to another room with a large bed, a TV on the opposite wall, the whole room immaculately decorated. He leads you to the bed, placing your phone on the bedside table and grabbing a charger out of the drawer. He also grabs the remote inside, placing it next to your phone, and a bottle of water, holding it out to you.

"I'll be in my room, if you need anything else," he says, standing up to make his way out.

"I'm sorry I kept ignoring your texts, and calls," you say, your voice quiet, the words escaping you without much thought.

He just eyes you for a minute, turning to face you, his face unreadably neutral. "I'm not," he finally says, smiling, that cocky grin back on his perfect face. You roll your eyes at him, settling into the bed, pulling the comforter up and over you.

He makes to leave the room again, but stops himself at the door, turning back to face you one final time

"We're going back to the office Monday, right?" he asks.

You don't respond, you don't say a word. But he doesn't need you to. He knows the answer, just like he knows you, with a certainty maybe he shouldn't have.

taglist: @lalalasexyguyshehehehe @hoe4rkpop @rienzz @bloomyroses

thank you sm for reading my loves <3333

#ateez x reader #ateez smut #yunho smut #yunho x reader #ateez yunho #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #dark fic

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heartsforseo · 1 year ago

Text

Skincare with the strawhats

A/n: I'm somewhere on episode 500 in One Piece. And looking back at my valorant post... I really did Franky, Jimbei, Chopper, and Brook wrong. But uh... I'll try to do better :D!! Btw this excludes Chopper cuz...how?

⭑Luffy, I'd say wouldn't understand much about it. I mean, he probably knows and have heard a bit from Nami and Robin but that's that.

⭑When you first explained it to him, he was half-listening, so he was a bit shocked when you sprayed some water on his face.

⭑Would think of it as a fun game and splash some water onto you too (your clothes sadly got wet :[)

⭑When you start adding some cream onto his face he found it funny and started making weird faces.

⭑Over some time, he'd actually start liking it and would start expecting one every week (and maybe even every day)

⭑And even if you guys were to do skincare every day, he'd either fall asleep or cause some ruckus. No in-between.

"Hey, Y/n!! Can we do the skinmare thing again??"

"It's skincare, Luffy, and yes."

⭑Overall, 6/10. He's not the worst, but there is definitely better.

⭑It's either Nami who will bring it up or you.

⭑She's the best to do skincare with since she got everything. Like everything

⭑Would prolly make you pay when you use one of her stuff (w/h or w/o permission)

⭑Would actually give you a piece of advice on what or what not to do though.

⭑While doing skincare, Nami will tell you gossip about the crew or from the last island.

⭑If you get on her good side, she might give you one of her equipment.

⭑Would secretly charge you money for all the wrongdoings you did though. And an extra 10,000 berries because you asked her to do skin care.

"Alright Y/n. This session would be 96,000 berries."

⭑Overall, 9/10. Definitely one of the best. con= -1 because she charges after skincare. Pro= You guys will now have skincare every week.

"No."

⭑You have to convince Zoro numerous times (and maybe even guilt trip him) just so he'd say yes.

⭑He'd be embarrassed at first and try to stay quiet (he doesn't want the lovesick cook to see him with a headband on and foam on his face)

⭑He's blushing so hard from embarrassment so be nice to him. It's also a good opportunity to tease him.

⭑Although too much teasing would opt to make him leave. Unless you ask Sanji instead or tell the crew what was happening to Zoro, that would make him stay back and listen.

⭑While doing skincare, he'd let you take the lead (considering he doesn't even know anything about it) and would only let out some grumbles and whines.

⭑After skincare, he'd look himself in the mirror and touch his face, noticing how smooth it was.

⭑He'd then look after the skincare and would ask you about it for more. He won't say it again though, so you better have good ears because he'll be all muttering.

⭑Overall. 7/10, he's very quiet and wouldn't do much unless you say so.

⭑Sanji would beg for it every. single. day

⭑And you finally had enough and said yes.

⭑Now before entering the bathroom, you can already smell the rosy perfume outside.

⭑WOULD have everything and anything. Maybe even more than Nami's skincare collection.

⭑He'd know what type of face skin you have AND the type you use. So it was no surprise when your essentials were already out.

⭑He'd beg give you assistance 24/7 while doing skincare

⭑He'd also ask you if you're feeling uncomfortable, having fun, and would ramble on about some new recipes he's learned.

"I hope you had fun today Y/n. I'm looking forward to the next."

⭑Overall, 10/10. He knows what you need and what you like. He also think of your situation/feelings, and that itself makes it 10/10 already.

⭑Ussopp would fly over the moon when you asked him.

⭑He'd gladly accept it and tell you he had a lot of experience in skin care (which isn't technically a lie since he knew some of it from Kaya)

⭑But of course, he'd still be scared and shaking. What if you didn't like it? What if you don't wanna do skin care with him again?

⭑He'd be rather stiff at first. Scared to disappoint you.

⭑But minutes later he'd start to cool down and come back to his normal self.

⭑Now every time you both will have skincare time. He'd have a bunch of stories saved up only for you.

"Oh Y/n! I have another story for you later."

⭑Overall, 9/10. He's really fun to be with and is def one of the best to do skincare with.

⭑You'd have to ask Robin to join you

⭑She never really thought of doing skincare together unless you bring it up.

⭑And you really know when to pick out the dates since she was so stressed at first T~T)>

⭑Being around a chaotic and childish crew could really stack up stress.

⭑But a simple skincare could really help it get out.

⭑Robin really much appreciated what you did. Especially when you massage her face and shoulders.

⭑It isn't only one-sided. She'd help you out by giving some advice and ideas when she sees you frowning at your own face. Even giving out some compliments.

"This has really helped out my day, Y/n. Thank you very much."

⭑Overall, 9/10. Really nice to hang out with, and would crack a dark joke once in a while.

⭑Franky would definitely say yes and strike a pose.

⭑He'd know a lot of this from Mozu and Kiwi and would sometimes buy them the products that they wanted.

⭑And since he's basically the crew's shipwright, he had definitely tried to recreate the product the stores have.

⭑But wait. It felt itchy when you tried it? Don't worry, he made a new one already. One that you'll definitely find lovely.

⭑You don't like how he designed it? Don't worry, he made an even bigger one with a design you'll like.

⭑Brook is jumping in joy and is asking to see your panties.

⭑Until he realizes he's a skeleton.

"Yohohoho! I'm really exci--oh..."

⭑Overall, 7/10. He's good for emotional support...I guess?

⭑Lastly, our good man Jimbei.

⭑(I only saw Jimbei a few times due to Impel down and Marineford so uh...)

⭑I'd say that skincare never really crossed his mind. I mean he IS a fishman after all.

⭑But once you told him about it and how it can help you relax, he decided to take up the offer.

⭑He's probably embarrassed and just standing dumbfounded. What was he gonna do?

⭑But dw since you helped him </33

⭑AND OMG HE TIED UP HIS HAIR INTO A FULL BUN?!?!?!?!? AHHHHHH (I'm fangirling DD:...i'M SORRY JIMBEI WS SO COOL)

⭑But back to the story. I'd say he really enjoyed that. AND OF COURSE HUGS!!! HUGS ARE VERY MUCH NEEDED!!!

"Thank you for this, Y/n. I very much appreciated it."

⭑Overall, 7/10. He's pretty much quiet and doesn't know what to do. But the silence is really comforting.

A/n: AND OH MY I FINISHED IT!!! I STARTED ON THIS AT 2 PM AND NOW ITS 5 PM HUHU!! ENYWAYSSSS I HOPE YLL ENJOYED IT, LOVE YALL MWA

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fivelila · 6 months ago

Text

Did Five love Lila before the subway?

Well, this is a question only he knows the answer to, but today I found myself reflecting on a few scenes, and I want to share my thoughts and observations with you...

Season 2

At first, Five pretty much ignored Lila, seeing her merely as Diego's girlfriend from the mental hospital. Later, he sensed she might be lying about who she really was. In the scene where she saves him from the Swede, his expression clearly shows he’s surprised. I think that’s the moment she genuinely caught his attention—for the first time. Of course, his caution won out, and he kept an even closer eye on her. Still, I believe this was a pivotal moment.

During their first fight, Five was clearly the superior one and could have won easily. However, his triumphant gaze at her held something else: he was enjoying it. I think he found her challenging and intriguing, which drew him in.

Five bluntly tells Diego the truth about Lila, even though he sees how hurt Diego is. He throws it in his face, emphasizing that he himself is the reason they got together (more on this in Season 3).

The second fight is far more intense, with Lila determined to kill him. At this point, Five likely believed she was just another tool of the Handler and saw her as a threat he’d eliminate if necessary.

When he learns the truth about her parents, his reaction shows genuine shock. He realizes she has personal, valid reasons for targeting him. This revelation shifts his perspective; from this point, I believe he no longer truly wants to harm her.

Season 3

When Five discovers Lila has returned, she’s the only one he wants to partner with. Yes, he values her skills, but was that the only reason? I think he also wanted her company.

The bathroom scene is a chapter of its own. He must have known she was still angry with him. In this fight, it feels like Five is more focused on defending himself than actually attacking her. When Lila calls it off, he stops immediately and engages with her about the situation. This scene feels like a way to clear the air between them. And honestly, barging into someone’s bathroom isn’t exactly normal behavior—he was really asking for it. And that stance of his while talking to her? Well…

Later, when they argue, Five tells her Diego probably truly loves her. This moment stands out. Was he doing it for Diego? I don’t think so. He likely suspected "her son" might be part of her revenge plan, but why bring up Diego’s feelings? In Season 2, he didn’t seem interested in matchmaking for Diego. Could it have been for himself? To stop Lila from leaving later? Perhaps he knew the only reason she might stay was Diego.

Five understands that, because of her parents, Diego, and his own age issue, he didn’t stand a chance with her at that time. If she left, he might never see her again (I doubt he guessed she was pregnant). Reconciling her with Diego was likely the only way to keep her around. Or perhaps reflecting his own (burgeoning / unacknowledged) feelings?

At the Commission, when Lila leaves the bunker, Five glances at her in a way that suggests he doesn’t want the world to end—partly because that would mean losing her, too.

Later on, it's just small moments, but still iconic, like their dance and the apparent shift towards a truce between them.

Season 4

After six years, we don’t know much about how often Five and Lila saw each other. But given their somewhat normal lives, it likely happened a few times. Even though the first episode of the season makes it seem like most of the characters haven't seen each other in years, presenting some information in the style of family members interacting for the first time in years (well, it wasn't happily done).

The banter between Lila and Five persists, but there’s also trust. Once again, it’s just the two of them teaming up for a new mission. It’s clear by now that he genuinely cares about her and wants to protect her.

When Five talks to Diego about burying something deep and pouring concrete over it, it feels personal. What could he be referring to more than his soft spot for Diego’s wife? He also talks about Lila not giving up what she has - as if he had thought about it before.

He also agrees to her crazy idea. As in Season 3, he likely saw it as an opportunity to spend more time with her while solving mysteries.

And the subway? We all know. Only a blind person wouldn’t see that Five had fallen completely in love with her during those years. Despite the insane situation, he looked happier than ever. His smiles were genuine... and so were his glances at Lila.

So... When did he fall in love with Lila?

I think, It likely built up over time, like a snowball rolling downhill, starting from the very beginning. But the subway gave him the chance to fully embrace those feelings, and their greenhouse gave him the courage to act on them.

What do you think?

#fivelila #fivela #five x lila #lila x five #the umbrella academy #tua #reflection #my thoughts #essay #I missed some long text to think about #love #steps to falling in love

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buggyboba · 7 months ago

Text

✦ October 24th | sex pollen

AN 𓏧

↳ ○ | AN| Hi, hello, we are going to pretend that this isn't three days late. I was FIGHTING for my life with this one, I'm not going to lie. We got there though, I'm not 100% happy with this, but that might be me being real nit picky. The Master is a real ass in this one, it feels a little non-con, since a few things happen, I'll throw it in the TW too, but it's not really, just kinda vibes briefly. I'm only going to do one more, (well two because treat won for trick or treat, so I will be doing a Dhawan!Master x Reader one and a Kate Stewart x Reader one for Halloween, to finish it out. Once again I will keep the rest of the ones I didn't do for Kinktober and maybe release them slowly. This was a big big challenge for me, the whole kinktober thing, and that's on me for thinking a week or so before October that I could certainly do 31 fanfictions, even if they were supposed to be short little smutty drabbles. I have quickly learned, I can't just write short little things...I won't apologize for that though, because that's the roleplayer in me...I was absolutely one of those long-ass novel writing role players. I LIKE WORDS IDK WHAT TO TELL YOU LET ME HAVE MY PROSE AND STUFF! Anyway I once again tried to keep it rather gender-neutral, but it's implied female anatomy, but if you squint maybe not? I tried, I SWEAR I will do Master x male reader sometime. SMUT MDNI

SUMMARY𓏧

↳ ○ how was he supposed to know the flowers on this planet were in bloom this time of year. How was he supposed to know how they would effect your human body? (Spoilers he knew.)

PAIRING𓏧

↳ ○ Simm!Master x Reader

TW𓏧

↳ ○ mentions of hypnosis, sex pollen, so consensual, but at what cost? sort of vibes. unprotected p in v sex, semi-clothed sex, the master is a right asshole, cumshot. petnames.

WORD COUNT𓏧

↳ ○ 3100

A03 lINK𓏧

↳ ○ x

MASTERLIST LINK𓏧

↳ ○ x

★𓏧 𓏧 𓏧★ 𓏧 𓏧 𓏧★

You were suspicious when he brought you to this planet; he called it Hevides, said it was a nice little flora planet, perfect this time of year. You shoved your hands in your jacket pockets, looking around as he exited the tardis, which aptly was pretending to be a tree. That wasn’t going to cause problems later, you were sure. He explained that there were a few rare plants on Hevides that he wanted to get his hands on; he wouldn’t tell you what for, but you assumed it was for a nefarious plan; it always was. You followed after him; it was a beautiful planet, you would give it that, but you also had a deep, nagging fear that a man-eating plant or something was going to get you, and that would be a terrible fate, just this giant piranha plant from Wish looking thing eating you. You were careful where you stepped; thick vines were littering the forest floor, which definitely didn’t help your imagined scenario of being eaten by a plant while there.

“Are you sure it’s safe?” you finally asked, but his annoyed scoff told you it was the wrong question to ask.

“Ye’ of such little faith,” he muttered as he walked past you.

“I mean, do I have to remind you of the fish people?” You started.

“Fish peop—you mean the sea devils? Come now, pet, that’s xenophobic.” He teased you. You stammered and tried to back petal, to which he chuckled and kept walking. “They weren’t fish; they were more like turtles if anything,” he shook his head.

“No, I didn’t mean it in a—I didn’t know they were called that." You stammered out, “And wait, wait, you don’t get to call me that; you are the most—” He cut you off and shook his head.

“Just because I think everyone is beneath me? Because they are, and you silly little apes are no exception, little backward things you are,” he tilted his head watching you. “Now don’t pout, pet; I picked you, didn’t I? As my companion,” he smirked his tone, teasing on the word companion. He disliked the word, but it was the best word to describe you and your relationship.

"Yeah, moving on; we don’t have time for all that right now; you told me the sea devils were safe, and then they tried to kill us.” You pointed out.

“Miscommunication, and perhaps some old hard feelings.” He waved it off and clapped, making a victorious sound as he spotted what he was looking for. It was a large purple and orange flower; it looked similar to a sunflower if you had to compare it to something; the middle was covered in thick red pollen. He motioned you over, and you shifted, walking a bit closer. You hadn’t noticed how careful he had been stepping around it. When you got close enough, he flicked the back of the flower, making the pollen fly into the air around you. You coughed and sputtered, trying to cover your mouth so more of the bitter pollen didn’t get into your mouth. You looked at him with a look of disbelief as you doubled over coughing harder.

“Don’t fight it; just breathe normally," he instructed as he observed you. “I just want to see how it affects you,” he said almost nonchalantly.

“An experiment, right now, with a mystery plant!” You used the sleeve of your jacket trying to breathe. You felt funny, but not in a funny way; more like your body was slowly getting hotter, your blood was on fire, and your skin felt uncomfortable, like your clothing touching it was too much. The feeling was overwhelming quickly. Then the heat pooled, and you felt an ache between your legs. You blinked, trying to determine the feeling and will it away. Your head was hazy. You took a step back, your pupils dilating more; he moved forward, catching you before you almost fell in your attempted retreat.

His fingers pressed against the side of your neck, on your pulse point, feeling your heart racing, pulsing against his fingers, he hummed. Your hand wrapped around his forearm; you tried to look angry, but your body was on fire, and his cold touch felt good; it would feel better lower. You blinked at your own thought; you felt your mouth water, and he pulled you up carefully. “Talk me through what you are feeling,” he smirked. “I mean, I can see some physical signs, some delightful tells, but I want to know how it feels for you.” He said like he was a scientist, and this was all a very ethical experiment.

You almost didn’t want to tell him; you felt squirmy. Was that a word you could use? Was that a scientific description? “I’m on fire,” you breathed out. His hand grabbed your throat, letting his thumb brush your jawline before he moved your head side to side to look you over with that cocky grin. You let out a softer sound, “I don’t know, I mean, it’s overwhelming really; I am shaky, and there is this..." You paused, not knowing if you wanted him to know about the ache, but he looked at you with an expectant look. “I just...feel horny,” you muttered out the last word, looking away from him, but he tsked and pushed your jaw with his thumb so you would look back at him. “I just, I need..." You sighed.

“Need what? Go on, tell me... I am all ears.” He grinned at you again; you could tell he had a sort of satisfaction about this reaction. You wanted to stay mad, you really did, but your mind was so hazy now that you couldn’t think about anything but getting rid of this ache. It was nothing like you had ever felt before, and you were worried, scared almost. What was this pollen doing to you?

“I just want the ache to go away. I just want—” you muttered out, locking eyes with him. His honey-colored eyes took you in. He studied your face, how flushed you looked, and how desperate you sounded. He looked down at you as your hips arched subconsciously against his, and a snider grin took his lips.

“Such a needy, desperate thing.” He teased, “And why should I help you?” He asked like this wasn’t completely his fault.

You blinked and looked at him almost in disbelief, “Because you brought me here! Because you made the pollen come off the flower?” You said shortly, his free hand left his pocket and moved to grab right above your hip. “You knew this would happen!” You accused, to which he gave you those puppy dog eyes.

“I didn’t know this exact thing would happen; I mean, I could have hypothesized about the effects on your silly human body, but I wasn’t completely sure, well, until now.” He nodded. “It won’t kill you, so stop worrying so much; just feel a bit.” He grinned, “You are adorable like this...all needy.” He mused a bit; he found this whole thing amusing, and you let out an annoyed strangled sound; you were getting so worked up, and he was just standing there being amused; you could strangle him.

“Why isn’t it affecting you?” You sighed, trying to focus. You had a lot of willpower, so maybe you could work through this, maybe.

“Respiratory bypass... held my breath when I flicked it.” He shrugged like it should have been common knowledge to you by now. "Plus, I’m sure it wouldn’t have affected me anyway.” He let your throat go and stepped back. “Come along. There really was something else I needed to get here.” He said and started to walk. You didn’t move; however, he paused when he didn’t hear you following him. He turned to you and raised an eyebrow. “Well?” You stayed still; you didn’t know if you could trust your legs to carry you properly. He rolled his eyes. “Are you playing disobedient now? Should I make you follow me, pet?” He asked, and you knew he was implying he was just hypnotizing you; maybe that would override what you were feeling.

“No, you don’t have to do that,” you muttered. You took a deep breath and forced your legs to move; even though they shook a bit, your whole body did. You didn’t like this feeling, this sheer feeling of need; the heat was almost unbearable. You wrapped your arms around yourself as you slowly followed him, glaring at the back of his stupid head as he leisurely strolled through the forest looking for what he was really after. You walked for what felt like ever; the effects were getting worse, your body shook more, and you had to stop and lean against a tree to hold yourself up. "Master,” you breathed out. He paused, taking note of your breathy call. He turned around and looked at you, taking in your appearance; it seemed the pollen was in full bloom in you now. He tilted his head, noticing how you were leaning, how you subconsciously clenched your thighs together, and how one hand gripped onto the stomach area of your jacket. You looked weak now, shaky. He inwardly sighed like you were a nuisance before he turned on his heel and walked towards you.

“You humans are so fragile,” he muttered and moved to pin you against the tree; his hands ran through your hair, forcing you to look at him again. The touch made you breathe out, “You aren’t going to be any good to me if you can’t keep up.” He mock pouted at you, “I suppose I, once again, have to take care of you.” He gave an exaggerated sigh, moving to let his hand trail down your stomach, stopping at the button of your pants. He looked at you for a moment, taking note of how your eyes were hazy, how you had the look of pure need, and how he could smell how aroused you were just by the air around you. That pollen made short work of you, and it amused him more than it should have. It melted your reservations, so much so that you were shifting a bit, trying to get him to undo your pants; it was like your mind couldn’t think of anything but getting off. “Oh and out here in the open, the great outdoors, how scandalous of you, bunny.” He mocked a bit. You felt your cheeks heat up more. He was right; you would have never done anything like this in public, not that this was public; this was in the middle of an alien forest; you hadn’t seen signs of civilization or anything of that sort, though that didn’t mean there wasn’t.

You choked out a whine; you didn’t want to wait anymore, yet here he was being his normal mocking, snarky self, taking his time because he wanted to annoy you; that’s what it had to be. He finally pulled the button free, and with a delicate movement, he unzipped your pants, letting them fall past your knees and pool around your feet, but he didn’t touch you yet; he let his hand slip under your jacket, pushing it and your shirt up as he stepped closer, his mouth pressing against your neck, his hands groped at your chest, kneading the flesh there, listening to the lovely needy sounds that were spilling from your parted lips. He pressed against you more, keeping you snuggly pressed against the tree, the bark scraping your back, but the pain from it didn’t translate; it almost felt good. Your hand gripped and your nails scraped at the bark; your other hand grabbed his arm, gripping the fabric of his black jacket. Each kiss and nip caused you to whine and groan out; it felt so good; everything felt so enhanced; someone could be making a killing using this as one of those ‘enhancer’ pills, a funny thought that was quickly pushed from your head as his hips rolled against yours, grinding against you. He let a soft growl escape his throat as he sucked a dark mark into your skin before his hands slid down and grabbed your legs, easing them up to sit against his hips. You wrapped your legs around him, your body so hot, your blood felt like it was boiling, you whined out, you felt so damn needy, you didn’t like it, your senses were on overdrive.

"Oh, what fun little sounds you make,” he muttered against your throat and pressed an open-mouth kiss against it before letting his teeth graze again. All these little touches and nips were driving you mad.

“Master! Please!” You choked out, pressing against him more, well, as much as you could in this position. As you pathetically rutted against him, he arched his hips up some, and you could feel his arousal, the bulge in his pants growing. He moved one hand down to undo his belt, and you gave a soft, needy sound.

“Down pet,” he smirked, kissing your neck again as he pulled his belt some and then undid his pants. “So needy, I bet you are dying to get fucked.” He growled in your ear. The growl sent a rippling shiver down your spine; you had never needed something more than in this moment. “I’ll admit, this was a very insightful experiment.” He said pulling himself free from his boxers, slowly stroking his cock, teasing against you with the tip, “like a dam broke.” He teased you; you hated that, but you couldn’t help it; the pollen thrummed through you still. You were about to say something, anything to get him to just help you, but he pressed the tip into your dripping entrance. Which caused a breathy sound to escape. He slowly sank in, pulling you against him, One hand moved to cup against your ass, and the other was held against the tree by the side of your head as he started a deliciously slow rhythm. It was clear he was milking this to see you so desperate that you would do anything. It made perfect sense to you; with who he was, you knew he was going to make you beg, even though this was all his fault. Acting like it was an inconvenience, and he was so benevolent to help you, to fuck you.

Your hips rolled against him, trying to get him to stop being so teasingly; his mouth found your neck again, sucking against your pulse point; he could feel how hard your heart was pounding, and you panted out. A deep thrust pulled a long groan from your throat, which made him smirk against your neck. You clenched against him, a diabolically delightful feeling for both of you, which made him grunt against you, biting your neck. He got the message and moved, pressing you harder against the tree, picking up his pace to something rougher, something faster; he wasn’t being playfully teasing anymore.

“I don’t think you really mean it; maybe I should stop and let you think about it some.” He pulled his hips back, but you tightened your grip around his waist; there was no way in hell you were going to let him stop.

Your nails scratched into the treebark behind you, the hand against his arm tightened more, your breath ragged as you groaned and moaned out, the feeling intense, the pleasure making you dizzy thanks to your already hazy mind from the pollen, you felt your muscles tighten and a pooling in your stomach, from your tensing and how your core pulsated around him, he knew you were close. He slowed suddenly, causing you to make a pathetic sound. “You can cum when I say you can,” he nipped below your ear. You couldn’t even think; your mind was swirling. How could he be so cruel and control this right now when your body needed this? “Oh, you want it so badly; listen to you, whining,” he smirked and made a mock whine in your ear. “You know what to ask for.” He breathed out and rolled his hips slowly, pulling almost all the way out, before slowly pushing back in.

You weren’t even sure you could form proper words right now, and he wanted you to feed into his control; he wanted you to beg for him to finish you. There was another low whined sound that he pulled from your throat. You thought about not playing his game, but he would stop, and you certainly didn’t want that. “Please, please let me cum, please, I need to,” you begged out, in the best tone you could manage, even arching and writhing against him, making sure to lock eyes with him. He studied you and shook his head with that cocky grin.

“Master please!” You slid your hand up from his arm to the back of his neck, keeping him close. “I’m sorry! Please! Please, I need you. I’m sorry, please! Please let me cum.” You breathed out in an almost panicked breath; this seemed to please him because he returned to the rhythm that he had been at before. “Please!” You doubled down. The stream of begging words and praises fell from your lips as you clung to him. You choked out a loud screamed Master, as you felt your body snap, the pleasure rushing your blood. The feeling of need was there but not as strong as it had been. He hissed out as your walls clenched against him and flexed milking against his cock. There was a moment he considered marking you as his in the most primal way, but he reluctantly pulled from your divine heat, rutting against you, holding the base of his cock as he groaned out, painting your stomach with strands of hot cum; it splattered against your bare stomach and the bottom of your jacket. There would be time for anger about that later. After a few long silent moments, he let you down to lean against the tree he had just fucked you against as he fixed his pants and redid his belt, making a face as he looked over your appearance. “Messy,” he said, like he once again didn’t cause the problem.

You took deep breaths trying to come down, you slowly fixed yourself, and your gaze flinted up to him. You could feel the prickle of the pollen still, but it certainly wasn’t as bad as it had been. “Do you think you can focus and keep up now? Tell you what, darling, we finish this up, and maybe if you are good and keep up, we can have some more fun when we get back to the tardis; dunno how long the pollen is going to control your silly little human mind, but I would love to study the effects more closely.” He smirked, and you nodded weakly, looking down at the mess he had made of you. It was going to be a long adventure, that was for sure.

★𓏧 𓏧 𓏧★ 𓏧 𓏧 𓏧★

Taglist𓏧 ↳ ○ @bees-fart-too , @bakusquadobsessed , @anastasa-mslfedit , @cabinedepapel , @asteria237 , @suckerforcate , @bingewatchingmylifegoby , @toastvogel , @starbucks-06 If you want to be added to the rest here is the l x

#the master x reader #doctor who x reader #doctor who #simms!master x reader #simm!master x female reader #simm!master x f!reader #simm!master #doctor who smut #kinktober #kinktober '24 #kinktober 2024 #tw: smut

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