#genuinely and truly i need spring to come before i get Worse

[fosterkidwiththebrokenjaw]

sitting in the single sliver of sunlight in my room on my lunch break before it goes away and leaves me subject to march’s merciless teasing of springtime warmth

[dyaz-stories]

hands shaking from holding back from you || Hyun-Su x f!reader

summary: Spring is here, and Hyun-Su offers to take you out on a date, which soon leads to more between the two of you

word count: 3.5k

warnings & tags: some fluff, angst because it's sweet home, kissing, heavy make-out session, gets pretty suggestive but never explicit, monster!hyun-su makes an appearance, the pronoun 'her' is used once in reference to the reader

first one-shot · previous one-shot

A/N: to give a little context, reader and Hyun-Su were in high school together, reader was only there for a year before going to another high school, and therefore has no knowledge of the bullying which hyun-su was a victim of. this one-shot can be read independently (there's nothing intense plot-wise that requires having read the other parts), but I do recommend reading them for context.

There is something strange about spring returning in a forever changed world. It had been so fitting, the apocalypse starting with winter, when everything was dead and desolate. Now, nature is starting to bloom again. The streets should be filled with noise and people, and you should be studying for your exams. Instead, you’re rationing your food, and you haven’t been outside in forever — you don’t need to, now that you have a knight in his torn hoodie to make sure you have everything you need.

Hyun-Su truly is the silver lining in the situation. The only good thing in the world as it is. He’s been more confident around you lately, more at ease. Still, it surprises you when he comes by on a sunny afternoon, and offers, with this soft, cautious voice of his:

“Do you want to go out today?”

 You’re putting away some fresh fruits he picked for you, and you turn around in confusion.

“What do you mean, out?”

‘Outside’ is dangerous. ‘Outside’ is a place you only go when you’re desperate, and you plan as efficiently as possible, to ensure you spend the least amount of time there. ‘Outside’, everything is a threat, and you can only breathe when you’re back at the house.

‘Outside’ regularly takes Hyun-Su from you.

Sure, he’s around a lot more, these days, but he still has to leave every now and then. You’ve come to understand that you’re not the only one who relies on him, but he hasn’t provided an explanation, and you haven’t pried. It burns a little every time he leaves, and yet…

And yet, the fear that he wouldn’t answer if you asked is worse. The fear that he might not come back if you didn’t let it rest. The fear that if he had to choose, he wouldn’t choose you.

“It’s nice out,” he answers, and you notice him retreating even as he’s still speaking. “But you don’t have to, if you don’t want to—”

“No, I’d love to,” you cut him off before he can doubt himself further. “I just— Wouldn’t that be— dangerous?”

“Oh.” He smiles, and it’s mesmerizing. It’s not the bright, joyful smile you were used to seeing, back in high school, but being more subdued doesn’t make it any less genuine. “I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

There’s no cockiness in his voice, just confidence.

“Then… Sure. I’d love to go out with you.” And you’re not usually the type to say that, because you don’t have the guts for it, but you feel comfortable enough with Hyun-Su to lean towards him with a playful smile. “It’s a date then?”

He lets out a brief, surprised laugh, then glances down at his feet while his cheeks and ears turn red.

“Sure. It’s a date.”

Even if you were the instigator, you still feel your face burn at how soft his eyes are when he looks back at you.

He looks at you like you’re one of the seven wonders.

You see him lick his lips as his eyes fall on yours. You could always take the step to fill the distance between the two of you, but Hyun-Su rarely initiates, so you want to give him the chance to do so. When he does, it’s always so soft and so careful, like he’s afraid of breaking you. After a few seconds, he clears his throat, looks away again — and it’s alright. You won’t rush him.

“I’ll go get ready,” you hum, stepping out of the room.

You miss the way Hyun-Su follows you with adoring eyes.

When you emerge back from your room, Hyun-Su is waiting for you, and you follow him, heart rate spiking when you go through the door. Being outside again, without the need to go get some specific and vital item, is— strange. Your eyes dart around you, constantly taking in your surroundings. There are surprisingly few monsters, compared to the chaos that was early winter. In front of you, Hyun-Su walks casually, seemingly without paying much attention to what is happening around him. You trust him, you really do, but there’s you still find it unnerving about that.

When you jump at some faraway sound, that turns out to be just birds flying away, scared by your approach, he offers you his hand, an amused smile on his lips. He might even suppress a laugh, but you can’t tell for sure.

“Is that okay?” he asks you softly as he closes his fingers around yours.

He treats you like you’re made of porcelain.

“It’s much better,” you reply with a smile, even if you feel a little sheepish.

For a second, he stares into your eyes, before he looks away and lets out a deep, long exhale. You don’t question him, just give his hand a squeeze, hoping it comes off as a silent reassurance.

He squeezes back, then pulls you with him as you keep going through the city.

“Is there— Is there nothing here anymore?” you ask. It feels like you should have seen a monster by now.

“They’re here,” Hyun-Su replies casually, like monsters aren’t a death promise. “They just know better than to approach.”

You swallow. You understand what he doesn’t say — they know better than to approach him — but it’s not that much of a reassurance, for you. You quicken your pace to stay closer to him. It says a lot about how far he’s come that he doesn’t jump when your shoulder brushes against his.

“They’re not all dangerous,” he says. You know he intends for it to be reassuring, but all you can do is grimace in response.

“They might not be,” you answer — you remember a flash of wings as an unseen monster ripped the snake-like creature that was trying to enter your home —, “but it’s not like I have a way of knowing which ones are safe and which ones aren’t.”

There’s a long silence as Hyun-Su keeps walking.

“But isn’t that true of humans, too?” he asks you in the end. He sounds so— sad, and yet you don’t know what to tell him to make it better. He’s not like them, you want to assure him. You’d never conflate him with the ones that tried to murder you — but it’s not like you can forget about them altogether either. Being wrong about trusting a monster, being wounded once could sign your end.

“It is,” you reply slowly. It’s especially true in this new world, where humans have dropped all their inhibitions. “I guess it’s just— Humans have been less of danger to me, you know?” A brief laugh. “But it’s not like I’m running after them either, right? I haven’t stepped foot near the shelter.”

Your dad didn’t trust the military, and you’re distrustful of authority. There might be strength in numbers, but you wouldn’t feel safe being surrounded by men with machine guns while you have nothing.

Hyun-Su hums at your answer. It does seem to have brought him some comfort, and yet you feel the need not to leave it at that.

“You know I trust you, right?” He freezes and turns to look at you. “Both sides,” you insist. “I know you’re safe.”

His lips part as if to say something, before he closes them again and his Adam’s apple bobs up and down. Finally, he nods.

“I feel safe with you, too,” he says. The sentence catches you by surprise, almost makes you want to laugh, because— who in their right mind would think you’re a threat? But Hyun-Su says it with such gravitas that you can only assume that there’s something that you don’t know about under there. Truth be told, there’s a lot you haven’t talked about with him. He’s not talkative, not anymore at least, and it’s hard to know which questions you can ask before reaching a painful subject. And there are countless of these, for everyone, since the Apocalypse hit. “Come on,” he adds after a few seconds. “We’re almost there.”

He pulls you towards a half-broken down outside staircase. You can’t make your way up on your own, so he grabs you by the hips to help you up, and you let out a surprised yelp when strong hands pull you close to him, his chest against your back, to lift you up. Immediately, his body tenses up and he stills, which means you’re all too aware of how close he is now, of his breath on your neck and his body against yours.

“Sorry,” he says. “Is that okay?”

Gosh, he’s sweet to ask, but you’re really happy he cannot see your expression right now.

“It’s fine,” you squeak, “just caught me off guard. Don’t worry about it.”

He seems to hesitate for a second, and oh, you’re so aware of his fingers on your hips, before he lifts you up as if you weighed nothing, first on his shoulder, then easily higher, so you can grab the bottom of the staircase.

“All good?” he asks once you’re up there.

“All good! Do you need—”

But he’s made his way up before you can finish your sentence, and you blink. Right. Some people are athletic.

“Go ahead,” he says, gesturing towards the stairs. “I’ll catch you if anything goes wrong.”

It shouldn’t feel reassuring, should make you think that you’re at risk, but you meant it when you said you trusted him. Knowing he’s there to watch over you… It’s like having your own personal guardian angel.

There are no issues, however, and you soon arrive on the rooftop — which takes your breath away. This had to have belonged to someone with money, because there is a whole garden there. Overgrown grass, flowers, and even a few trees. Birds are chirping, and it feels… Well, it feels like the kind of places you’d go to laze around on a sunny afternoon with your friends, like an actual park. Being secluded and high up, it is however much safer than any park you could actually go to now. When you turn around, you’re met with an impressive view of the city. It looks peaceful from up here, just a quiet spring day.

Then you notice that Hyun-Su is staring at you, and what you see takes your breath away. He’s smiling. Actually smiling. Wide and bright.

You’re quick to look away, embarrassed by the emotions you’re sure are obvious on your face. Tilting your head up, you let yourself receive the sun.

It’s been a long time since you’ve been this happy.

Hyun-Su often feels that, when he’s with you, all he can do is stare. He likes watching you when you’re at home, going about your day in the house, or sitting by a window and reading. It makes him feel so— welcome, knowing that he can just be there, with you, and that you’ll never mind his presence, never ask him to leave.

Never ignore him and pretend he doesn’t exist.

It makes him feel like he belongs, being around you, makes him feel at peace.

Or, at least, it did, because the emotions swirling under his skin right now are much more complex than they used to be.

He met you, or met you again, in the winter, when you were bundled up under coats and scarves and layers upon layers of clothes. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed the change in your wardrobe lately.

It makes sense, of course. Days are getting warmer. Not only is there no need for you to keep wearing pullovers and disappear into huge coats. But the way your clothes are hugging your body these days, how they accentuate your curves, how your t-shirt rides up to reveal the skin of your stomach…

He can’t say that it makes it more difficult to be around you, because he doesn’t think that anything could do that. You make him feel like he can breathe again, like he’s finally coming up to the surface after spending ages lost in dark waters, not knowing which way was up and which way was down. It’s just that it— takes a lot of place in his mind.

He can already barely stop thinking about you as it is, knows that the Kid and Yi-Kyung have noticed already how his mind always seems to wander away from them. This, though, this is a whole other can of worms. Because he doesn’t know how to act about it. Doesn’t know how you’d feel if you knew. Doesn’t know if you’d look at him with pity, if you’d tell him you never want to see him again, if it would disgust you.

Yet, no matter how much he tries to stop himself, he always comes back to staring. You tilt your head up towards the sky, close your eyes.

You’re beautiful.

If he was another man, he’d walk up to you to wrap his arms around you, he’d whisper something in your ear, he’d kiss you.

Just as the thought crosses his mind, his leg twitches. It takes him a second to understand that it’s not just an involuntary muscle reaction. Inside him, the monster is swelling, clawing its way up towards the surface.

If you don’t do something about this, I will, it whispers inside him. And let’s be honest, maybe that would be for the best, because what could you do? At least I wouldn’t be afraid to touch her.

Hyun-Su tries his best to force it back down, to ignore the sting of the words, but the monster refuses to let up. Finally, he takes a step in your direction, then another. The closer he is to you, the less the monster puts up a fight — but it still refuses to go down completely.

You turn to look at him when he reaches you, tilting your head in quiet questioning.

Hyun-Su feels himself lifting his hand to touch your cheek, and it’s so spontaneous, so natural that he can’t really say who’s in control there. Your skin is soft under his, and as he leans in to kiss you, he cannot forget how fragile you are compared to him. How one wrong surge from the creature he harbors inside himself could end it all, how careful he needs to be.

And, when his lips brush against yours and you kiss him back without hesitation, he’s reminded of how you either don’t know that or don’t care.

There must be something in the air, because without thinking, his hand comes to your waist, then the small of your back, pulling you close to him. Again, he can’t tell if it’s the monster making its own decision, or if it’s just natural and he’s just doing what he truly wants to do. Both thoughts are worrying.

But you’re not aware of all the questions going on his mind, and all you do is tilt your head up to give him better access to your mouth — and it makes his pulse rush and his mind goes haywire.

Normally, he’d know better. Right now, he feels your hands, trapped against his chest, gripping his hoodie and pulling him down towards you, just a little closer, because there isn’t much space left between the two of you anyway.

He tilts you back now, still without thinking — there isn’t enough space for that in his mind at this moment, not when it’s so filled with you you you — hands firmly holding you against him. His tongue pushes against your lips, and you part them almost immediately, welcoming him in your mouth. His blood is pumping, his whole body feels scorching hot, and you’re right there, running your fingers along his jaw and over his neck, leaving burning trails everywhere you touch.

His tongue intertwines with yours and he feels, more than he hears, you whimper into him.

Immediately, a sense of urgency forces him to pull back. One second, he’s pressed against yours, the next, he’s taken two steps back, and your eyes open in confusion.

“Are you okay?’ he asks, searching for a way he’s hurt you, anything indicating that something’s wrong. But all he finds is swollen lips that you press together as you glance away from him.

“Um, yeah, everything’s fine,” you mumble, and it takes an embarrassingly long time for him to understand what kind of noise that was.

Oh.

Oh.

He’s immediately desperate to hear it again.

He brings you back against him to kiss you once more, and there it is, coming from the back of your throat.

He’s not sure what happens, who initiates what, if he’s in control at all, but soon he knows that your back is against the grass, and he’s above you, kissing you just as fiercely. Your hands are wandering now — his shoulders, first, then his arms, then tracing the muscles of his chest and down to his abs. He wants to respond in kind, wants so badly to feel you, but the second he moves his hands, fear assaults him again.

“Is that—” He breaks the kiss to look at you in worry. “Is that okay?”

He illustrates the question with the softest of touch on your skin. You let out a brief laugh — not a mocking one, though.

“You really don’t have to keep asking that,” you say, and your eyes are adoring. Then, when he stays still, you push yourself on your elbows to press a kiss to the corner of his lips. Then his jaw. Then his neck.

Hyun-Su can only stay there, frozen in bliss, as you pepper his skin with kisses. Finally, as you’re reaching his collarbone, you take his hand in yours to bring it back on your body, and then you lie back down, allowing him to take the lead now.

His hand is shaking as he slides it under your t-shirt, all of his senses overwhelmed with need. He wants you so bad, he has a hard time understanding it. Kissing you is familiar. The way your body arches against yours, pushing into his touch— isn’t. His immediate want for more, more of the sounds you make, more of your body, more of you, that is all new, too.

He feels feverish as he mirrors your previous actions, kissing down your neck and lingering in one spot when he discovers it makes you whimper. Now that you’re not muffled with his mouth, your sounds echo louder, and they’re music to his ears, in a way that fuels the fire you’ve lit inside him. His hips press down into you, and a jolt of pleasure jolts through him, which when he realizes that he’s—

He tears himself away from you for the second time, stumbling back to end up just a couple meters away from you.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, “sorry about that.”

You sit up, looking a little confused.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly.

It’s his line, and it takes him a while to piece together what you could mean by that. It’s not like there’s any way for you to hurt him. If anything, you should be disgusted by him. There’s no way you didn’t feel him, which means you know he’s hard. But you’re just looking at him in concern.

“Sorry,” he repeats. “I shouldn’t— I shouldn’t have—”

“Hyun-Su,” you call gently as you scoot over towards him. “It’s all good. I didn’t— um— I didn’t mind. But we— we can stop here for now, if you’d rather.”

Inside him, the monster protests vaguely, but this time Hyun-Su has no issue sending it back to the abyss it came from. He’s overwhelmed, heart beating erratically, and he doesn’t know what would happen if things kept going. He wasn’t in control, not really, and he— he can’t risk it. Not with you.

“Sorry,” he repeats, feeling miserable.

Slowly, you put your arms around him. There’s nothing suggestive about it. You’re just doing your best to bring him comfort.

“It’s okay,” you whisper. Your fingers run gently through his hair in appeasing motions. He rests his head against your shoulder.

He’s not alone.

You’re just there, talking to him, touching him, right against him. You’re not doing anything to move away, not looking at him like he’s some mistake, and it feels like his heart is trying to jump out of his chest.

“Thank you,” he mumbles.

Your fingers still for a moment, before you go back to your ministrations.

“For what?”

And, God, the fact that you don’t even know, that you don’t even realize everything you’re doing, everything you’ve done for him since that first day when you spotted him in the street and ran after him…

He draws in a trembling breath.

“Thank you,” he just repeats.

You don’t ask any more questions, just keep gently playing with his hair.

The sky’s blue, the birds are singing, the town is quiet. It’s just you and him, sitting in the grass, on the rooftop.

If someone were to miraculously pass by and see the two of you there, they’d probably think that you were, indeed, on a date.

okay, I hope you're enjoying this little series! I'm not sure what I'll work on next. i know i'm eventually going to write smut for them, though it's going to be very soft because... well it has to be between them lol. someone has also said they wanted to see them tackle the world together a bit more, so I'm also thinking about writing a one-shot where they meet ha-ni and ho-sang, because i thought that ho-sang's intense dislike for hyun-su could imply they've met before. anyway, yeah, i have a couple different ideas.

i would really appreciate it if you left a comment, whether here, in the tags or in a reblog, and tell me anything you're liking in this series! interactions really motivate me and keep me writing :)

next one-shot

[for-all-time-imagines]

Hello! May I have a Yellow Tulip for the Lovebrush boys? Thank you for the food! 🙏

Plant Ask Prompt List

🌻yellow tulips: if their s/o is sad, what would they do to make them smile again?

Alkaid

Alkaid's words are gentle and comforting as he reassures you that things will eventually turn out alright. It's not as if he is ignoring the reality of the situation, or the reason behind your sadness, but that doesn't necessarily mean you have to wait until you see the light at the end of the tunnel before you truly learn that the hardships will come to pass. He also makes it a point to remind you that you're more than welcome to talk to him anytime no matter how busy he is, or how tired he is, as he will not hesitate to drop everything to lend you an ear. You wouldn't dream of abusing his kindness but the mental image of him literally dropping his things is so out of place in your conversation that you laugh. It's not exactly the way he envisioned how he is going to uplift your mood, but as long as you finally found comfort he's alright with it.

Ayn

When Ayn notices you're down, lifting your spirits is the furthest thing from his mind. Tough love is what he is most comfortable with and while he can read your moods pretty well, it takes some time getting used to pulling his punches. He's aware that his words can come off as harsh as he tells you to get it together but at the same time he doesn't want you to think he is trying to hurt your feelings; if he didn't believe that you can get back on your feet he never would've bothered to be this honest with you. He does know there's a time and place for everything, so when you're genuinely sad he quietly keeps you company in hopes his presence can give you a peace of mind, or at the very least he stays within your vicinity if you want to be alone for a moment.

Cael

Cael is not exactly the most proficient in the emotional department so when he sees you sad, the thought of putting a smile on your face doesn't occur to him. It's obvious that he still has a lot to learn when it comes to sympathizing with you on the days you feel down, but that doesn't mean he is incapable of noticing the slightest shift in your moods. Somehow he is so in tune with your emotions that he knows exactly what you need in the moment even if you don't say anything out loud. There are times when you don't know what you really wanted but somehow he always has a solution that will get you out of your funk. His unprompted thoughtfulness makes you smile without realizing, and seeing that expression plastered on your face makes him relieved that he managed to alleviate a load off your shoulders, even just for a little bit.

Clarence

Clarence's first instinct is to find the root of the problem. What made you feel this way, is it something beyond your control, can it be fixed? And then he asks you what would make you feel better right now: do you need space? Is there anything he can do to help you out? Do you need words of comfort? Encouragement? Or maybe a reality check would suffice? A small part of him is wondering if he is coming off as nosy or naggy with the constant questions especially if the problem is something you don't want to divulge, but that won't stop him from asking because at the end of the day he is not a mind reader; getting straight to the point is a reliable way for him to know how to help you. Once he has figured it all out, he promises to assist you to the best of his ability, and knowing that you can rely on him brings a smile to your face.

Lars

Even though your sadness is so incredibly obvious, Lars somehow never points it out, much less show any indication that he noticed it at all. To make matters worse he springs up on you about how he cleared up his schedule for the next day along with a spontaneous plan that he has never told you beforehand. If you didn't know him any better his actions may seem insensitive but you've learned to go with his flow since all his actions are never without reason. Somewhere along the way you get so caught up with your time with him that he suddenly points out how it's the first time you've smiled that day, throwing in a remark that you've been too into your head as of late and he's not about to let you forget how to have fun.

[jelzorz]

164.

As per @raayllum's request. Takes place/makes references to the fruit (~7 years post-series end, aka everyone is a fully consenting adult) which is not required reading but does explain what Rayla is talking about and is my justification for the existence of this ship.

"It's weird."

"No, it isn't."

"It is."

"Callum." Rayla lets out a breath. She likes to think she's been pretty patient about this, but it's been a long couple of months, and she's growing bored of managing Callum's expectations for him. To an extent, she understands: first Claudia had come home, and rather than be sentenced for her crimes, Ez had pardoned her, and then, somehow, had started courting her, and Rayla had thought that was weird too at first, but the fit Callum had thrown was pointless at best, and stupid and immature at worst. Rayla is his partner, his wife now, before she is anything else, and she's defended him in the past for his poor decision making and his poorer behaviour, but she will not defend him for his spat with Ez.

He has, thankfully, grown past it, but the reason he put his head back on straight is the new thing he can't get past, and they're not even dressed for dinner yet but Rayla is already exhausted by his inability to process the unexpected.

He pouts at her, helpless, confused, but Rayla would have more sympathy for him if he hadn't spent the last few months in a cold war with Ezran. She will not forgive him if he has another one with Soren and Opeli.

"What's the problem, exactly?" she demands, her patience well and truly wearing thin. "Is there something wrong with them being together?"

"I just—" Callum sputters, his brain obviously stuck on the word together like it's hammer caught between the gears of his brain. "It's—Soren—"

"You had no issues when Soren was dating Corvus."

"No, it's not—" He huffs. "With Opeli?"

"Yes. With Opeli. And?"

He flounders for a moment longer, looking more and more a like a fish gasping for air. "It's... I dunno, Rayla, the thought that they—they—"

"Oh, it's the sex, is it?"

Callum slams his mouth shut and goes so red that it takes all of Rayla's willpower not to dissolve into hysterics right there and then. Admittedly, she'd had the fortune of being told straight—by Opeli, when she'd gone investigating after the tension between all her friends had begun to piss her off. Callum and Ez were already refusing to talk to each other last spring, and when Opeli and Soren started to avoid each other too, Rayla had put her foot down and ambushed her in her office before the situation could grow anymore out of hand.

Then... Well. This summer hasn't been easy for them. She will not let Callum make it worse.

"Don't say it like that." Callum squeezes his eyes shut and rubs at his temples. "It's—Opeli's like a mom, y'know?"

Rayla snorts at him. "Mums have sex, Callum."

"And Soren is like—he's like one of us. It's—it's kind of—" He grimaces, and for what it's worth, looks genuinely frustrated at himself for not being able to reconcile it. Rayla gives him some grace for that. "Look, I don't want you to think I'm not, like, happy for them? It's just... Opeli's been High Cleric my whole life, and she's been looking out for us since we were teenagers, and she's so much older that—"

Rayla stops him there with a scowl. "Is there something wrong with ageing women, Callum?"

"What? No! That's not—"

"Is she not allowed want things, Callum?"

"I didn't mean it like that!"

"Is Soren not allowed to think she's attractive just because she's older?"

"Rayla." He bows his head, resigned, exhausted, ashamed. "There's nothing wrong with them being together," he concedes. "Like. They're both adults. It's their decision. And after everything they've both done, and after what happened this summer... If they're happy, that's all that matters. My brain just... needs time, I guess." Then, quietly, and perhaps a little pathetically, he adds, "Sorry."

Rayla blinks at him, pleasantly surprised by his maturity after the months without it. "I get it," she says at last. "It threw me for a loop too, but at the end of the day, it doesn't change anything. They're still our friends. Our family. We'd still do anything for them, right?"

Callum nods childishly, and Rayla offers him a smile at last and pats his cheek. "Let's go have dinner with them. Think you can do that without having an aneurysm?"

He gives her a look. "Give me some credit."

Rayla laughs at that, loops her arm through his, and presses a kiss into his cheek. "Good," she says with a chuckle, "because Soren's been bugging me about this double date for weeks. Let's just have a good time with our friends, okay?"

Callum takes a breath but he smiles, if a little nervously, and nods. "Yeah. Sounds good."

[senka-mesecine]

Could you please write the reactions of platoon characters to the reader crying? Thx

-

― Like a true son of two fathers, Chris is conflicted on what to do, what's the right course of action; from one end, his best and brightest instinct is to comfort, console, be at a loss for words at your state, be outraged in your name, be gentle, impassioned, act confused and fidgety for a moment because it's hard to articulate everything he wants to say and do to make you right again and he does want to say and do so much --- from another end, he wants to do something brash, something stupid, something dare I say even violent? He wants revenge in your name and the impulse itches him like something he yearns to scratch while he's holding you and with each sob, each whimper, each tear, the desire to do bad gets stronger. One could even say a really messed up part of him is into your crying although he wouldn't outright admit to this or even be able to process it immediately --- he doesn't know it's happening even as it's happening. It's fully plausible to say Chris Taylor is very tender and dedicated while consoling you but also prone to go out there and retaliate against whatever or whoever it was that made you cry. Two truths can simultaneously coexist within one person and in no man is that better demonstrated than in him. Once you're fast asleep in your bed, feeling better, feeling relieved, Chris might just go out and do what he feels needs to be done.

― O'Neill strikes me as the type of guy who'd publicly and very cockily proclaim he isn't swayed by moping, sniveling and tears, playing into his tough man macho wannabe persona, but privately, he's genuinely distraught. He's biting his nails, nervously tapping his foot, pacing up and down and legitimately worried for you because he wants to fix this quickly but a quick fix doesn't come to mind. Blank. Empty. No clue what to do. See, he'd whine and mope and pester you into telling him what's wrong and once you do he'd mope and whine and pester you into telling him exactly how to make it better, one almost getting the impression he's the party in the need of comforting here. He is, in fact, very swayed by your tears to the degree his anxious ticks might just get worse and he very well could start crying along with you if you're truly that upset or at least get very obviously teary eyed at the sight of you --- facts are, Red acts far more tough than he really is and so your sadness literally hits him hard. Man would downright pester you into being better and once he does you undoubtedly have to take over and console him --- his head is your lap and you caress the top of his head because he's just shattered. There, there. You've no clue how the tables ended up being turning like this.

― Wolfe has no idea what to do; he might just stand there legitimately shocked, stunned and all frozen up, just sitting down beside you awkwardly, watching your outpouring of emotions like a lost puppy or like he's witnessing something slightly perplexing he's never really encountered before, momentarily unsure how he should act out of fear of acting wrong and stumbling upon reproach or criticism from you (which is genuinely his worst fear ever), but probably quickly springs into action once the realization hits him he can be depended on, that this is his chance, and he can be useful to you and garner your admiration and appreciation through that. Acts of service galore coming into play! He gets to Captain the situation, quite literally. Anything you need, everything you need, and all you need to is ask. Or not even ask --- he'll just do things because he imagines it'll make things better for you. Man does so much just over the notion of you crying that for all of his occasionally hapless self there's something weirdly endearing about this effort. Like he truly tries and wants to make a difference. One could even say Wolfe's in his element when you're crying as bizarre as that may sound because he has the upper hand --- you being the aggrieved one and him being the one who gets to fix it. Unbeknownst to yourself, you've given him an opportunity to shine and he immerse himself into that for weeks after the crying incident is done.

― Bunny reacts like a kid or an adolescent would react. Genuinely speaking. He might go anywhere from the occasional meanspirited taunt (in his own weird Bunny mind hoping it'll make you laugh and snort and by extension cheer you up; truly a tactic for the ages) to being weirdly and sadistically turned on by your glazed over, shiny eyes and making no effort to be classy or covert about it, to wanting to do some bad shit as a vendetta dedicated to you simply because he doesn't need excuses to wreak havoc but when he's given an excuse it's all the better from where he's standing, it's like it makes the havoc in question more fun and shit --- and all the way down to him just sitting beside you, mouth slightly agape and eyes somewhere far off because the capacity to fully grasp what should be done in a situation like this hasn't fully developed yet. He knows he's meant to do something he just ain't sure what. Might blurt out an obligatory 'wanna fuck?' because the thought of fucking you always cheers him up so he figures you'll be the same and when that doesn't work he'll just be there and watch it all unfold. If it gets bad enough he could put his arms around you and slither close to you like he should be receiving party of the embrace in a weirdly sweet moment although he's very likely to make you promise never to tell anyone he did this pussy shit.

― Man, King can't stand to see anyone cry, least of all you --- if the particular subject of his affection who's sobbing up is a woman he can stand that least of all because it feels like an affront to God almost. Goes against nature in his opinion. It just ain't right. You should be laughing well and often and always and leave the tears to some undeserving, mean-ass motherfuckers who earned to be in a fucked up mood, meaning that King does everything in his power to make you laugh --- he doesn't care if it comes off a little bit chaotic or irritating as you're right in the middle of your weeping, doesn't care if it annoys you initially because hey, if you're annoyed then that at least it cancels out some part of your sadness which is good. It's gravy. He's on the right track to fixing this crap. Should he offer you a blunt? Share some beer with you? Tell you a joke? Share an embarrassing anecdote hoping you'll begrudgingly snort? Flirt with you? All of the above? Because trust and believe the man will try everything and at least one of the things in question are bound to work whether you like it or not. By the end of it, he invests so much into brightening your mood you can't help but be endeared by it --- his efforts really do pay off. You're there grossly snickering, snot bubbling in your nostrils, eyes puffy and red even though you might've had the cry of your life just moments ago. Life ain't that bad, is it?

― Life is that bad, Rhah might think on the opposing end of things, meaning that if you fall into a dark mood he might just fall into a dark mood along with you --- there he is, all doom and gloom because you crying might as well herald the end of this fucked up world for all he's concerned. He's broody, he's sulking, he's languishing and Vermucci downright agonizes, often verbally, when faced with your tears like someone invested into this matter with every vestige of his soul. Falls into a full blown, Shakespearean level monologue on how everything is just wretched, rotten and foul and as strange as it may sound it's almost momentarily good and cathartic to have someone so impassioned who understands exactly what you're going through and has the vocabulary to describe it back to you. You do feel seen in a weird sense. Related to. Not alone. Which ironically makes the grief quell. Not to say he wouldn't console you in the classical sense; oh, Rhah's all affection, holding you, smoothing your hair, kissing away your tears and whispering sweet nothings into your ear. I mean, the world outside might suck ass but that doesn't mean the world in here does. It's just that when you cry what little hope hope he has for the general state of things immediately extinguishes and he stumbles headfirst into nihilism.

― Elias undoubtedly doesn't leave your side until you're done, feeling better, until he can draw a smile out of you, however small and brief, or at least be assured you're going to be okay, probably sharing some words of wisdom with you that are legitimately profound enough to make you realize how miniscule this problem is or how truly temporary, his presence warm and soothing enough to have you understand you're not alone in this nor ever will be. This conversation and time spent with him during your fit of crying not only serves to comfort you for the time being but open your third eye in ways you never thought possible, like the grief was taken away with a magic touch. You truly feel...relieved afterwards. Relaxed. Like an invisible, crushing burden has been lifted. I dare even say you feel happy. It's just that sudden clarity that comes after grief and he manages to draw it out of you knot after knot. Elias just has that impact where he lightens the soul with a couple of well placed words, a hug or just holding you. He comforts you so efficiently when you cry that you never feel like crying again. You just feel good about yourself. Good about the world. Good about everything. Loved. You might not even remember what it is he said to you but it sure worked like a charm.

― Barnes can't stand it. I mean it. The sounds of you crying are infinitely more horrifying and harrowing in his ears than they are in yours; they remind him of a lamb being butchered and bleating for its momma. He'd probably just stare at you as it happens, almost turning his head away, trying to ignore it, seemingly angry, waiting for you to let it out and ultimately needing a moment for himself and wordlessly leaving in the midst of it all --- he appears gruff, stoic and even unfeeling but he's probably more affected than you are and this moment is genuinely etched into his mind forever the same way whenever you cry is going to be. He wants you to stop. Needs you to stop. He'd kill for you to stop because the sound is unbearable, almost amplified by about a thousand from where he's standing. It's the most profoundly messed up, sad shit he's ever heard and he's heard and seen horrors unimaginable...partook in a great many personally too to the point few things phase him anymore; but to hear and see you cry just has him stepping out of the room and taking to the drink outside, listening in, waiting for your teary hiccups to quell, not coming back until he singlehandedly deals with whatever chicanery it was that made you sob and weep --- and well, that can be a sweet thought, but Barnes being Barnes, it's also a very daunting one. Someone might just die over it.

[getting-quicker]

You Really Shouldn't Eat Chocolate From Strangers

(A dark story of reality twisting, weight gain, downgrade, premature education, and cuckholding)

Rob was in trouble. Deep shit really. What rotten luck he had to have dropped his Valentine’s Day gift and watch it smash on the pavement.

“Fuck me,” he groaned. The worst part was he had come prepared, not forgetting to get a gift for his girlfriend like other guys. No. His luck was worse than dropping his girlfriend’s gift on Valentine’s Day. His luck was out right cursed as the sound of glass shattering attracted one white haired Skye Agrams.

“Oh nice one,” the arriving Skye chuckled.

Rob hardly noticed the pale girl in the tattered hoodie. “Yeah, a hundred bucks down the drain. Fuck,” Rob cursed, suddenly reminded what his predicament really meant. “It’s Valentine’s Day. I actually had my shit together and now I have to look for a new gift like any other chump.”

“Any other chump,” Skye purred, failing to truly reel in Rob’s notice. “You sound important.”

I am important, Rob thought to himself. I’m THE company asset. If they didn’t have me writing their walls of code the place would be shut down. To think they threw a raise to that girl in finance instead of me.

“What’s important,” Rob decided to say, “is that I find a new gift. God, I’m going to look like I didn’t have a clue. As if I’m like every other guy on the planet.”

“Think you’re better than the average guy,” Skye asked, beginning to feel annoyed that Rob was still more fixed on his broken gift than her.

“No, not really,” Rob said. “I’m pretty average.”

The truth was Rob was well above average. He had great hair, thick and bronze in color. He had a short beard that matched it well and he always kept it fabulously groomed. It was genuine misfortune Rob never showed off his body on the beach or online as he would have at some point been picked up by a talent agent. He didn’t try very hard to stay in shape. He was just naturally, superbly well toned. Truthfully, he was just more focused on making money than worrying about how he looked. Thankfully, he didn’t have to worry anyways.

Tall, handsome, and fit by happenstance. The body was for his girlfriend alone. Well, he tried to make it that way. He had been dating Megan for three years. She was pretty enough. A little chubbier these days and while he had been meaning to address that when spring came around he was genuinely happy to have her company when he came home from work every day. Sure, he had wilder partners before Megan and he did cheat on her after going to that club last year. But sweet, innocent Megan didn’t need to know that. It was a lapse of faith and so what? Rob was planning to pop the question next year which was a damn good deal for Megan hitching a guy like him.

“I’ve got a good nose for sniffing out people and who they really are,” Skye said suddenly.

“So do I,” Rob said, finally glancing at Skye. His face wasn’t impressed when he got a good look at her. “Mine tells me you need a shower.”

Skye’s eyes opened wide and she dropped her jaw to open her mouth in silent shock. She then went to sniff her armpits and, partially, pretended to gag, “Oh man, fair enough, heheh. Alright, since you’re obviously a hot shot, and I guess hot, I’ll be a good peasant girl and throw you a bone.”

“Are you selling me crack?”

“Wha-no. Why does everyone-”

“Because you look like you’re about to sell me-”

“I just have that look. Listen. Since you clearly need a new Valentine’s Day gift for your special someone you can just have this,” Skye spun in a circle by the back of her heels and stopped to reveal a heart shaped box of chocolates.

“Where were you hiding-nevermind.” Rob took the box without question, “How much?”

“For a stud like you they’re free,” Skye smiled her horrendous teeth.

“Funny. But for real, I know your game. You bought these and now you’re selling them to all the losers who forgot to get their significant others gifts for Valentine’s Day. I’ll be honest, that’s a pretty clever gig. Something I’d probably pull in high school.”

“Dude,” Skye’s voice was that of earnest disappointment, “who the hell refuses free chocolate? Just take the chocolate! Yeah, I got more ulterior motives than I know what to deal with but can’t a girl get rid of her inventory?”

“So you are a girl,” Rob smiled. Skye only glared. “So how much?”

“You really just want to throw your hard earned cash away at girls. Sweety! That’s fine by me!” Skye clapped her hands over the box of chocolates now in Rob’s hands. A strange act, Rob thought, but honestly what should he expect from this strange girl at this point? “Twenty dollars,” Skye cheered with her hand out.

Cheap. “Deal.”

Skye pinched the crisp bill Rob began to offer, “But on the condition you have just one of those chocolates for yourself. I smell that you need them more,” the last part was a whisper but Rob caught it. He didn’t care.

“I was thinking of taste testing one of them anyway,” Rob admitted. Besides, he thought, Megan’s previous gift was a hundred dollars. He was more than due to indulge in one piece of chocolate.

“Sweet tooth, ehhh?” Skye asked, aiming both her index fingers at Rob.

“No. More like to make sure they’re not spiked.”

Skye almost snickered. To be correctly sniffed out yet to take the sweets anyways? “Then Godspeed, sir.”

……

“Telling me to have one piece of chocolate,” Rob repeated with scorn as he walked down the street. He passed by another guy with a box of chocolates and felt disgusted by how typical a box of chocolates on Valentine’s Day was. “Ugh, I don’t even like chocolate.”

He pierced the plastic off the box with his thumb. To his surprise: “Twenty of’em? Jesus,” he took up the first piece from the box, “I paid a dollar a chocolate.”

And so the first piece of chocolate was casually tossed into his mouth: “Hm. Sweet!”

But then he swallowed and while the after taste tingled on his tongue something else rumbled inside him. His stomach growled, suddenly hungry. As it rumbled, the abs he had taken for granted all his life relaxed and melted away. Still slim. Still flat as a board. But no signs of peak physique.

Though that was not noticed by Rob. In fact, as the taste seemed to intensify on his tongue, and as the hunger steadily rose within him, another change occurred. This time in the depths of Rob’s mind. Man, he thought, am I a sucker for chocolate. How did that freak down the road expect me to have only one?

Rob knew he didn’t have a sweet tooth, but left alone with chocolate he knew it was a fight he wasn’t going to win. “I think only Megan likes chocolate more than me,” he chirped to himself as he picked up the second piece. “Only one more though.” Afterall, Rob loved his girlfriend. He loved her for all her faults, even if she might have eaten too much chocolate herself. What was I thinking when I slept with that other girl when I went to the club? It was one of his greatest regrets. Compared to that, what was eating just two pieces of chocolate?

He popped the second piece of chocolate into his mouth. Even sweeter than the last. His face tensed as Rob became convinced the twenty dollar box of chocolate was worth it. Then again, he thought as he swallowed the second piece, he was a certified chocolate lover. Anytime chocolate was being sold he was the first to pay up.

As that thought cemented itself as natural in Rob’s head, the chocolate made its way down to his gut where it decided to kick about and make some room for itself. To Rob it felt like another tingle, another rumble demanding yet more chocolate. Yet after the quake his stomach was left with a faint reach. A very subtle curve. Nothing to grab yet nothing boney like the models.

Rob scratched at his thin beard. A few more months and maybe it would be fully grown and might look like the actors he was trying to mimic. Hopefully. Rob knew he was good looking. But he had been trying to grow the beard for almost a year. Since around that time he almost lost his wits and cheated on Megan at the club. Man that was close and he could have had that smoking hot girl too. He chickened out at the last second though, thinking of Megan.

I kept my faith back then, he thought, and three does make a nice number. And so the third chocolate was plucked between his fingers. Sure, Megan had put on a few pounds since they started dating. But she was hardly chubby. As far as Rob was concerned, seventeen pieces of chocolate wasn’t going to make Megan chubby either. He chewed the third piece.

Fuck me! Rob thought with glee. He knew he had a major sweet tooth, being called the human trash can whenever his co-workers brought in sweets, but these chocolates were the best he ever had! As he swallowed, his belly expanded again, given the impression that he was in fact someone who did have a sweet tooth. Still not chubby. Maybe what some would describe as skinny-fat. A little pudge on his sides and some padding on the front of his gut. You wouldn’t know he had the weight when he was wearing his looser shirts. Megan was the same way. A little bit of harmless pudge on each of their bodies but neither ever thought the gym was necessary.

More was changing than just the growing weight around Rob’s gut. A little went to his cheeks. Buttocks as well as his face. Still good looking but not anything one would expect on the cover of a magazine. It was why he was trying, and struggling to grow a beard. A beard, as Megan suggested, would give him a shaper face and hide his cheeks. His cheeks did so like to blush whenever he flirted. He was red as a tomato when he first started talking to Megan. She thought it was cute. Last year he had gotten abnormally drunk at a club his friends dragged him to, it never did seem to take much alcohol to clutter his wits though, but that night was bad. He flirted with another woman, thought he almost came close to wooing her, but she ended up just giggling at Rob as his face went red then. For the best, he always thought.

Would I have really cheated on Megan if that woman was serious? He asked this question himself from time to time. He would like to imagine, no, of course not, but his cock did seem to have a mind of its own. Six inches and proud of it. But once his face went red that usually meant the rest of the blood in his body was racing the other way. Never took much to get him hard. Megan always took it as flattery, “I’m just that good looking,” she would joke when they got ready to roll around together in bed.

We’ll be rolling around together in the sheets soon enough, Rob thought with excitement. He decided it was best to clear his mind of such thoughts until then. He didn’t want to pitch a tent in public and just thinking about doing the act was enough sometimes. He searched for a distraction and found it in the box of chocolates he was holding. Well, he thought, Megan will probably just have a laugh when I say I already ate my half.

With that justification, Rob took the fourth piece of chocolate and planted it in his mouth. He moaned with delight. More delicious than the last. Just as more weight piled on him. With a groan in his stomach to match his moan, Rob’s belly swelled into the proper classification of chubby. A soft muffin top spilled gently over the sides of his waist. He could still masquerade as skinny with some shirts. And with the right lighting. Megan had the luxury of being able to wear whatever she wanted. Rob, however, didn’t like taking his shirt off whenever their dates took them to the beach.

He itched at the stubble on his fleshy face. He ate chocolate as a snack almost everyday. As such it wasn’t a terrible surprise he felt between the stubble a forming pimple. “Ugh,” he sighed, “on Valentine’s Day. Really?” He wished he was able to grow that beard. He tried but he just couldn’t seem to grow it. If it went beyond stubble the hair just didn’t look right. He needed that beard too. There was a time last year when his co-workers invited him to a club. One drink was enough to dull his senses and he found his courage to flirt with another girl. It went alright for a bit but he knew he didn’t have a chance with his baby face. As it turned out, the girl said she didn’t play around with chubby guys anyways. At least Megan said she never cared about petty things like his weight.

On that thought, what the hell, Rob figured he was fine to have five pieces of chocolate. The rest could wait until he was home. In went chocolate number five and so down Rob went an inch. Both in height and where it perhaps mattered more. He shrank an inch, almost unnoticeable as he walked, but his cock had taken a step down to the ranks of below average. Megan had admitted to him last year she wished he was bigger but she was drunk and Rob figured it didn’t matter as he knew what he was doing.

The only thing Rob wished he could change about himself was his hair since it was pretty thin and he wished he could style it better. Oh and a beard would be cool. He always had a clean face and maybe that wasn’t for the best given how soft his chin was. He sometimes wondered if Megan didn’t like that about him but, no, that was just his self-consciousness getting the better of him.

Rob caught a glimpse of himself in front of the window of the building he was walking by. From a side view he realized how much his chubby gut poked out in front of him. When he looked down he saw only the curve of his belly. He tried to suck it in. It took some effort but there were his shoes hiding beneath. He gasped for air and watched his feet disappear. “Should really consider the gym,” he muttered. Megan went to the gym once a week and she was in great shape for it. He thought then he shouldn’t complain if her gift for him was a gym membership. Megan had an awesome body, she put a lot of effort both into working out every week and doing her makeup. It was only fair, Rob thought, he should try to work on himself too.

But Rob knew he could resist anything but temptation and the chocolate in his possession was very tempting. “I’ll wait until she gives me that membership before I stop eating like a pig!” That was the signal for chocolate six’s turn.

Not only did chocolate six stretch Rob out a little in width, giving him meatier hips and legs, and of course more girth to his gut allowing it to jiggle with every step he now took, he again scaled down in height. 5’8. Short, according to Megan. Yet she was two inches shorter than him. She had a habit for teasing her boyfriend. His height, his chubby gut, his need to shower to get the grease out of his hair. Rob’s member must have liked it. Anytime he was teased it would get him rock hard. At first Megan said it was a compliment but she didn’t like the fact Rob could last only a few minutes in bed.

Megan would tell Rob he had two things to work on, “You need to go to the gym with me every other day. Lose some weight before that double chin really takes shape on you.”

“I know, I know,” Rob would say, knowing above his budding second chin his face was going red.

“And we got to find a way to make you last longer, hun,” she would say, grabbing his meat right there and then.

“I know, I-hnng…” He would get hard right there and Megan would giggle. She would kiss him on his cheek but by that point Rob would feel embarrassed and when he felt embarrassed?

“Hate when she does that,” he thought, feeling drool form at his lips as he eyed chocolate number seven. I’ve been chubby all my life. I was chubby when I met Megan. How bad is it I just want to indulge here and there?

Chocolate seven had no objections and down it went, making his chubby gut bloated into a more swollen state, fixed under a soft chest of emerging moobs.

God, I’ve been gaining weight since I started dating Megan, Rob thought. What can I do? I sit on my ass all day at home and at work. He wished his co-workers were nicer to them. He was the premier code guy after all but that seemed to only make him the weird guy on top of the heaviest guy at work. One time he asked if he could tag along with his co-workers and visit this club they were going to. They promptly said no and that he would ‘cramp their style.’ Sure, they apologized for admitting the truth right there. But that didn’t forgive the snickers he would hear, whenever he was purchasing a few snickers from the vending machine.

“You should have tagged along with them anyways,” Megan said, texting on her phone, laying on the couch with her toned legs crossed up. “You got to be more assertive, put yourself out there to make friends, sweety.”

“Can’t I hang out with you tonight,” Rob asked, unwrapping an ice cream. “You’re hanging out with your friends, aren’t you?”

“Like, yeah, but you know how my friends feel about you.”

Rob felt a rush of shame before sticking the ice cream in his mouth, “What happened was an accident.”

“Hun, you looked at Becky’s cleavage and got an erection in front of everyone. I mean, sheesh! And you know how much I hate that Becky is D-Cup when I’m like C. How do you think that made me feel, hmm?”

Rob went red. “I didn’t mean to…”

Megan smiled and rolled her eyes, “You really got to learn to control yourself,” she narrowed her eyes and gave a more mischievous smile then. “That includes not eating a whole box of ice cream everyday.”

“Sorry…”

“And stop saying sorry all the time, hun, it’s fine,” Megan giggled.

“Sor-right. So, maybe I can tag along then? Should keep me from eating any more ice-”

“Yeah, no, sorry, babe. Becky asked to make sure you specifically didn’t tag along.”

“Isn’t Ryan and Brad going out with you guys though?”

“Yeah, haha, but, y’know. Becky is just sort of creeped out still over the whole thing.” A car horn honked outside. “That’s them. Don’t wait up, sweety. Check out that movie I was telling you about on Netflix. Tomorrow you can take me out to dinner, okay?” She kissed Rob on the cheek and skipped out the door. Rob knew he’d be finishing that box of ice cream that night.

A co-worker told Rob the next day he saw Megan and her friends at the very same club he wanted to hang out at. Apparently Megan danced a lot with another guy who got rather handsy. When he confronted Megan she assured him, “Rob, I swear, nothing came out of it. Antonio just likes to show affection with his hands and believe me, he’s like, a master dancer.” She saw Rob wasn’t amused by her answer. “Rob, listen to me.” She took his hands, “I promise you. I. Promise. There was nothing more to it than that.”

Rob blinked away, “Okay.” The conversation went on a lot longer and a few heartfelt tears were shed. By the end they made up that night. Rob lasted two and a half minutes. He knew Megan wasn’t happy about that but she wasn’t in a position to complain. Not until next week. As for the rest of the year? That’s when the anxiety eating really kicked it and Rob went from chubby to borderline fatass.

“I can’t stop gaining,” Rob muttered to himself again in the present day. He worried what would happen if he continued to gain weight. If he became truly fat. What would Megan do then? Would she go dancing with more Antonios? He didn’t want to chew on the thought. Instead he chewed on chocolate number eight.

Eight went down Rob’s throat. Tasted better than lucky number seven. Though it left behind a blatant double chin on his chubby face and it made gas fill his bloated gut. His upset belly forced him to let out a fart like it seemed to make him every hour on the hour. His belly jiggled about until it settled on a shape that was undeniably fat. Soft and sagging moobs over a fat belly that was tightly wrapped up by his anime T-shirt. His butt-crack peaked out from his wide rear and his legs and arms thickened with each wobble he made down the street.

“Valentine’s Day,” he mumbled, dreading the day. He knew it would not be very romantic. A fat loser like him was lucky to be with a gorgeous 10/10 like Megan. Hell, all twenty thousand of her Instagram followers knew he was lucky when they spotted him in the background of a selfie Megan took in their apartment. Megan deleted the photo and he later spotted posts saying that was just her brother visiting.

That was hurtful, Rob always thought. But that was nothing compared to a year ago.

Megan rushed out the door to get wasted with her friends like she did every Friday night. Rob dared to ask to go with but she only laughed in response. She blew him a kiss and left through the door. She didn’t come home until the next evening. By then Rob was already alerted by a co-worker that she had slept with a man named Antonio.

“He saw you leave with him,” Rob said through his tears, unable to hold them back. “I know *sniff* I know…”

“Honey-bear, no,” Megan smiled, “that must have been someone else. You know I’m a total trend setter. There’s probably lots of girls with double Ds and platinum blonde hair like me. That’s all!”

Rob explained he saw the photos taken and shared around. Megan tried to come up with more outlandish possibilities until her story fell apart and soon so did she. She broke down in tears. Rob joined her. Eventually they made up. But they hadn’t had sex for months. The one time they did between now and then: Rob lasted a minute and twenty seconds. Megan was timing it. She gave him shit for it.

Rob’s four inch cock twitched as he thought about how the night might play out. “Maybe I’ll get lucky THIS year…”

He didn’t even realize he was putting chocolate nine between his lips.

A little more weight to his ass and sides. A little less height as he shrunk and squashed downward. He was 5’5. A whole inch shorter than Megan. She hated that about him. Often remarked she wished he was taller. That was even her excuse a year ago when she got caught cheating on Rob.

“Well, can you blame me? You’re five foot fuckin’ five, Rob. It’s embarrassing just being seen with your fat ass in public. And don’t even get me started with you downstairs behind all that FAT. You’re not even four inches long, Rob! That’s a kid’s dick! You-you-you look like a fat kid on the fucking playground. Of course I’m gonna fuck other men! REAL men!”

“Were…there…there were others?” Rob sobbed.

Megan shook her head in disbelief, “Honestly, Rob. I always thought you sort of knew. Thought you just never wanted to have this conversation because, fuck, man. What are we supposed to do now that the cat’s out of the bag?”

That question hit Rob with a fright. He loved Megan! He didn’t want to lose her despite what had happened. “H-how…how long have you been seeing other guys?”

Megan just sighed and stayed quiet for a moment. “It was right before our first Valentine’s Day together.” That made the pain fresh all over again and a sadness appeared in Megan’s eyes. She must have known how terrible that was. “The date was coming up and I couldn’t stop thinking about how…how…disappointing you are. You’re out of shape, you’re a slob. You…you can’t even last a whole minute in bed, Rob. I figured that’s why you would have been okay with me seeing other guys. It’s kind of your fault that way, you know?”

Rob looked at Megan with wounded, watery eyes.

“Okay, that’s not what I meant. I mean, it is. That’s where it started. I wanted a real man for Valentine’s Day. And ever since then…”

“So what now?” Rob sniffed.

“I still like you, Rob. I still, you know. Still want to be with you. But I’ve got needs. Needs you just can’t satisfy. So…”

It wasn’t too long of a conversation after that. It wasn’t a title Rob embraced but that was the night he accepted his role as a cuckold. Rob had never slept with another woman besides Megan. He always figured he was doing something right with her. But he was wrong. A year since then and Megan had slept with a number of other men. At least she didn’t brag about it. It was the dark secret of their relationship. Judging by the laughs he would hear when he would waddle by the cubicles of his co-workers: It probably wasn’t a very well-kept secret.

“Maybe tonight I’ll be the one she wants to have sex with…” Rob could only hope. He had urges too but sex was rather clumsy when they tried. His gut got in the way. He weighed too much to top. He was always out of breath before long no matter what they did. They pulled the feat off once since their relationship became open one-sided. Rob lasted forty seconds. At least the other three times they again attempted sex, each time ending early with a lazy handjob, Rob somehow managed to make it a minute those times. Megan just sighed and went back to her phone.

The thought of those miserable dates made Rob hungry. He gobbled up chocolates ten and eleven together.

With a bounce his belly pushed the boundaries of fat to tuba themed fat-fuck. A near double belly poured forward over his buried two and half inch cock. His massive ass and hips swaying behind him. He stood only 5’3. He had often been mistaken for a woman from behind. Even from the front when his fat man tits were the first things seen. But when most saw his face they just gagged. A few pimples here. A deep double chin there. A piggish nose and little, sad eyes. When people saw Rob they saw a fat loser. Dressed in ill-fitting, tight and often torn shirts of obscure Japanese animation and stretched sweatpants. Sweatpants often sporting stains below the shadow of his pale monster gut.

Waddling was a brutal exercise, Rob thought as his wobbling began to cause him to sweat. What was I thinking going to the store on foot? A few blocks away? That may as well be a state over! He grunted as he made his way to the last turn to his apartment. He was almost there. Mixed feelings awaited him there.

“I wish I had a real girlfriend,” he found himself sighing. As it stood, Megan was a girlfriend only in name.

The relationship started out “real” enough. Rob thought it was too good to be true. A chubby loser with strange interests in animation and video games. Megan meanwhile was a bombshell and a popular e-celebrity for her makeup tutorials and vlogs. It didn’t take too long for a knock-out like Megan to discover Rob’s terrible secret.

“Oh my God!” Megan snorted in laughter during one of their first dates over at Rob’s apartment. “Did you! Haha! Did you seriously just cum in your pants!”

“It-it’s a serious, fuck, ahghh! It's a real condition. I get excited and-and-and-ahh, fuck, I just lose control. You’re-you’re very pretty,” he tried to say.

“Dude, I saw you oggling my ass from the reflection of the window.”

“Okay,” Rob was quick to concede. “Your ASS is very pretty!” For that, Rob heard one of the very few genuine laughs he was able to get out of Megan. Though she accepted the apparent condition, even said it was flattering, the relationship didn’t feel very real long after that.

As Rob suspected. It was too good to be true.

Just before their first valentine’s together, a man mistook Rob as just one of Megan’s fans. Megan, who had stepped away to use the bathroom, had no idea one of her friends with benefits was explaining to her boyfriend outside how much they fuck on the side. That was an awkward chicken salad that day.

“Just a fan,” Rob cursed as the memory flared in his head. He wrote code for a company and practically kept the lights on. Of course they never gave him any raises for it. Meanwhile Megan made more money than him. But that wasn’t until after they had started dating for a few months. A few months where Megan became comfortable living off of Rob’s checks. By the time Megan’s career online really took off she had grown to like Rob somewhat. At least for his money. Either way, she wanted the arrangement to last.

Rob sat on the couch like a dumb child as Megan explained how things were going to be. “So…we’re not really boyfriend and girlfriend?” His heart was genuinely broken. She was his first girlfriend and if he was being honest he knew she would probably be his only. The fact she was so stunningly beautiful made the ultimatum just that much more demanding. Whenever Rob got to play with Megan’s tits, hell, whenever he just watched her shake her ass from working out at home, he would lose control and cream his pants. Megan would laugh but Rob didn’t mind all that much. He was getting damn good shows and she even took his virginity. He only lasted seven seconds but that still counted!

Megan said it all out right. “Honestly, Rob. What choice do you got? You really think you’ll ever do better than me?” Rob felt his tiny cock twitch in submission as he bowed his head. “That’s what I thought,” Megan said while pre-cum stained Rob’s underwear.

Rob tried to protest when Megan started bringing other guys over. He had hoped she would keep her flings away from the apartment he paid for but no such luck. He would touch himself to the sounds of Megan getting her brains fucked a room over. Rob never lasted as long as the guy making Megan moan. At least he got to cuddle with Megan in their bed afterwards. At least the guy fucking his girlfriend made his spot on the bed warm for him.

Another twitch to his little prick. “Maybe if I ask nicely Megan will give me a handjob for Valentine’s Day,” Rob hoped as chocolates twelve through fourteen were crammed into his sweaty, pimpled face.

As Rob’s belly rumbled and jiggled his gas built up and he let out a rude fart. When he had to fart he had to fart so he just let it rip. His dick was the same way really. Whenever he had to cum he didn’t really have a say in the matter. The sensation of arousal meant the geyser was about to erupt so get ready.

He wiped the sweat off his brows as his body shrunk down some and spread out to the sides to accommodate. “Fuck, I hate walking.” To be fair, Rob hadn’t walked in years. Now he just waddled and complained about having to wobble everywhere. There was a time he was just chubby. Well, just fat, rather. A time before obesity swallowed him whole. Then he met Megan.

It was crazy to meet her in real life. Megan was really taking off on social media. Rob was even an early subscriber to her only fans. They found out they lived in the same town, one thing led to another, and Rob offered to pay for all the rent if they could live together. At first he thought he was dating Megan. But then before Valentine’s Day, when Rob came home to Megan coupling with another man, a man who could actually see his cock when he looked down, Rob realized their relationship wasn’t quite normal.

“You’re more like an admin for my business,” Megan explained.

“But we’ve…we’ve…y’know,” Rob couldn’t even say what they did without blushing.

“We didn’t do anything, Rob. I was drunk one night and we TRIED to do something but you blew your load like you always do and I went to sleep. And then you farted and I kicked you out of the room. Honestly, you realize real couples share the same bed right? You never thought it was strange I had you move out of your own bedroom and take up space in the guest room?”

“I…I don’t really know how other couples work,” Rob confessed.

“Hm,” Megan was already losing interest in the conversation, moving her eyes to her phone and the tinder notifications coming from it. “You know Rob, I kind of like you. If you want, we can try dating.”

“R-really!?” Rob’s spirits shot up, as if it was no big deal he caught her fucking another man an hour ago.

“With a condition,” Megan said, eyes on her phone.

“What? I’ll do anything!”

“You know what a cuckold is?”

True to his word, Rob did do anything. Though ironically, they became less physically intimate after that day. There was more teasing to be sure. More exaggerated pet names and assurances of, “you ARE my boyfriend, Rob.” But rules followed. Rob wasn’t ever allowed to see Megan naked unless she was getting plowed by another guy. It used to be she would bounce her great big tits for him to splooge his pants over but now she had to watch another man bounce her tits for him. Rob didn’t like it at first but his two inch prick loved it. Or maybe it just loved seeing a naked woman with bouncing tits. Regardless, Rob would watch Megan get railed and he would soak the bottom of his obese belly with load after load of semen.

“I hope I get to watch her get fucked tonight,” Rob prayed as he waddled down the street. It was Valentine’s Day after all. That had to count for something. Maybe she would even strip in front of him. No other guy involved. A show just for him!

He was so excited about the idea he hadn’t noticed he was eating the last of the chocolates he had gotten for her. Leaving stains on his fat face, Rob crammed his mouth with chocolates fifteen through nineteen. He chomped away like a pig as his cock shrunk to measly and pathetic one inch. It became more sensitive, able to explode when he simply imagined sex, never involving him of course. He was a good little cuck. And little he was indeed. Besides his micropenis, a shameful button of flesh hidden deep beneath his morbidly obese belly and oversized fupa, Rob stood at a comical 4’8. Under five feet, even Megan towered over him. But he liked being a little smol boy as she put it. Put his eyes on the level of her massive, bouquet tattooed tits. Of course, his tits were almost the same size but hers were far perkier. Also her tits had flowers on them. His just had pimples.

Leaving chocolate stains on his belly and old, unwashed hentai shirt, Rob farted and filled his yellowed sticky underwear with a steady flow of precum. “So much fuckin’ walking. But maybe I’ll get to watch Megan get freaky tonight, eheh.” He ended that thought with a fart.

It was just before their first Valentine’s Day Megan explained to her roommate and top fan that he could be her personal cuck slave if he gave her full control of his bank account. Naturally that meant Rob would be granted an allowance for all his snacks and anime merch. But Megan got the rest. Rob, obsessed with one of the internet’s most sexy e-girls, was prepared to make the ultimate commitment. Nobody gave more money to Megan than Rob. In return, Rob was able to satisfy his cuckold fetish with the woman of his dreams. One time when Megan was drunk she asked if Rob wanted to try and actually see if sex was possible for him. He came immediately at the proposition. Rob remained a virgin.

There was a condition for Rob to be with Megan in their strange arrangement however. “I’ll be straight up, pig-face. I’m kind of a psychopath. The story about me bullying that girl into the psych ward isn’t some online creepypasta. I did that shit one hundred percent.” Megan giggled as if this was something silly. “So if you want to be my personal pig you have to look the part.”

“W-what do you mean?” Rob asked, feeling his button-prick tightened with pleasure. The load was already on the way.

“I want you to gain a fuck ton of weight. I want you to get fat. Fatter, I mean, haha. I want there to be no way you ever get with another girl. You’re mine. I want you fat, ugly, and totally unable to control-”

Rob already came in his pants. The stains pooled across his sweatpants.

Megan smiled, “Good pig.”

He started eating a lot from then on. A lot of chocolate in particular. The weight piled on and obesity latched on to his pulsating arteries. Whenever Rob got caught between doors Megan would just laugh and take photos for God only knew where. Rob would just send a fresh load of jizz to sail warmly down his blubbery legs.

Today it was sweat speeding down the jiggling tree chunks of flesh that were Rob’s legs. He had wanted to move out to an apartment that was on the first floor but Megan said it was funny to see him come up out of breath and covered in sweat. Eventually, after a lot of huffing and a lot of chocolate flavored belching, the sweaty embarrassment that was Rob made its way upstairs to his apartment.

“Hey,” Rob belched out, “I’m back. You home, Megan?”

Megan came up in a loose shirt. A guy was over, Rob realized. “Phew, you stink pig. Rolling out in the mud were you?”

“No,” Rob said before wheezing for a fresh breath of air. He caught a whiff of himself. He did smell fouler than usual. “I…ugh…I got you some chocolates but uh…”

Megan chuckled, “Oh, of course. The human blob ate them all already. Chocolates actually would have been nice for today. I could have shared them with Brad.”

“I know…I’m sorry, ma’am…oh, there’s one left.”

Megan swiped the last remaining piece of chocolate. “I’ll take that. Clearly you’ve had enough for several lifetimes.”

She ate the last piece of chocolate.

A flash of light seemed to go off then. Rob’s eyes widened in shock before twisting around her horror. He examined himself, grabbed at all his sweaty folds, nearly suffered a heart attack when he saw his reflection in the window, “What…what…what the fuck?”

“Piggy? You okay?” Megan asked as she swallowed the chocolate.

In an instant, two worlds collided. All of Rob’s old memories returned. Fusing with the new. Understanding both as the truth. He remembered the man he once was. The woman Megan used to be. Yet he understood at once what they had become.

And he knew why. “The girl…the girl with the white hair…”

“Gawking at other girls?” Megan frowned. “I told your fatass you aren’t allowed to look at any other women besides me. I was going to let you watch tonight but now you can’t for another two months.”

“No, no, you’re-you’re supposed to-to-oh, ahh,” no watching my girlfriend Megan get fucked by other men for two months? Ooh! “No! I-she-ahh-hrnnng!” That’s so hot, Rob’s brain thought for him as his button pulsed. “HRNNG!” It’s so hot Megan used to be my girlfriend but now she’s an internet whore and I’m a fat, premature manlet cuckold!

“AAH!” *SPURT* *SPURT* *SPURT* *SPURT* “Hrnng-” *SPURT* *SPURT* “Ahhh….ahhh…”

Though his old memories returned, his new brain remained. As much as he despised and was disgusted by what he was about to say, “th-thank you, ma’am. Hnng. Ahh, that’s-that’s very hot…oohhh. I’ll be a good boy from now on…” he meant every word.

Megan accepted Rob’s promise as Rob, shamefully, blissfully, dreadfully, accepted his new reality. “Well, good,” Megan said. “You can listen to Brad and I go at it though. But no peeking this time! Oh, and go order me some chocolate, alright. I’ll give you some money from your allowance. Try not to eat those too, will you? Happy Valentine’s Day.” Megan walked off on that note. Rob watched her shapely rear take leave and felt the next round of cum burning inside him and ready for premature release.

“Yes, ma’am…” he moaned, obedient, still hungry for more chocolate.

[americanwh0resstuff]

You look good, open casket good…

Chapter II, Time of the season

Amy takes up Blaine’s offer, against the pleas of her coworkers…

Word count: 2,028

Slight smut warning, next chapter will be full on ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Time of the season

“Please Ames I’m begging you, he’s not a nice person, don’t get involved with him!”

Ravi pleaded with her, following her around the morgue like a lost puppy.

“Why? What did he do? It can’t be that bad? I mean you met my ex… can’t be worse than him?” She joked but not a single laugh was heard, instead she was met with stern looks. Ravi didn’t want to tell her, what would he say ‘oh yeah he killed a bunch of teenagers, turned multiple people into zombies, oh yeah he’s a brain/drug dealer!’…no, she’d just ask why they didn’t get Clive to arrest him, and there was no time to explain everything.

“I’ll just drop by, it couldn’t hurt? I probably won’t even take his offer, wouldn’t want to leave you…” she smirked at him, packing up her things for the day before leaving for home.

“I’ll see you Monday, don’t worry about me!” She waved at Ravi and left through the bay doors, shouting a quick “bye!” To Liv.

The air was cold and wet as the rain hit the pavement, autumn was Amy’s favourite time of year, the weather, the falling leaves, the endless horror movies and not to mention the Halloween (which at her play was all year round) decorations…

She smiled as she opened her car door, a beautiful 1967 Ford Mustang in olive green, her dream car. She’d saved up for it all her life, and when she moved to the US she knew she had to have one, she could deal with not affording dinner or not having curtains in her apartment, if she had that car.

The radio was blaring loud as she drove home, old rock songs playing, music by the Rolling Stones, the Beatles and the Zombies playing to set the mood, it was a perfect fall day.

She genuinely felt happy, no more stress from her relatives, old relationships, old jobs… she was starting anew, living the life she wanted. So there was no surprise on her neighbours face when she walked into her apartment lobby, whistling and walking with a spring in her step. “Good evening Ms Danes!”

When she finally sat down in her sofa, feet up, tv on, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the business card given to her by the admittedly attractive man who was sitting on an autopsy table earlier. Now that she thought about it, I guess it was kinda weird that Ravi was looking at him instead of him going to a usual doctor, but hey in America, who could blame him for not wanting to pay a fortune to get his blood pressure checked?

‘Blaine DeBeers, owner of Shady Plots funeral home, where we lay your loved ones to rest the right way’

Huh shady plots, bit on the nose…

She pulled out her phone and called the number on the back, slightly nervous from Liv and Ravis protests, but she couldn’t keep working in the morgue forever, she needed a real funeral home to truly show her craftsmanship, somewhere where families can come to see their loved ones without having to bear witness to slashed up victims and loose organs.

It only rang twice before he picked up “Blaine DeBeers, how can I help you!” She unconsciously smiled, feeling butterflies in her stomach.

“Hi this is Amy, the mortician from the morgue.”

“Oh Amy! Great I didn’t think you’d call” she could practically hear his smirk over the phone, which only made her more nervous, why did she feel this way?

“Did you not?” She joked “What a confident businessman!”

They talked for a bit, Amy telling him about her experience in Glasgow medical school before changing her major to mortuary school, how she worked in Hastings as an apprentice mortician before finally working in a quaint little funeral home on the sea front.

“This all sounds great, but uh- do you want to grab dinner tonight? Make it a business meeting, we can really get into the details.” She grinned in surprise at his offer. Fiddling with the cuff of her jeans.

“Yeah that sounds good-great! What time?”

They agreed on 8 o clock, it was now 5:30 so she had enough time to shower off the smell of formaldehyde and get into something nicer.

For the latter she decided on a long, silk, black dress with a slit going up the side, with a button up white shirt underneath to keep it somewhat casual, she wore her black Mary janes and carried a coffin shaped bag, yep she was that into her job.

She kept her makeup simple, black eyeliner and some fluffy fake lashes, and a dark plum lipstick to contrast her bright green eyes. She curled her hair and wore her favourite perfume, it’s been a while since she’s felt this nice.

She got into her car and drive to the agreed upon place, somewhere called “Ritos” some local Italian place, that was fancy enough for a business meeting, but still laid back enough to be crowded on a Friday night. She looked around for a bit before parking up and walking to meet the pale haired man, who was already waiting outside.

“Oh I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long!” Blaine smiled at her, taking her hand in a firm yet soothing hand shake.

“Don’t worry about it, I just got here!”

They made their way inside, Blaine pulling out her chair for her, she marvelled at the dark green walls, mauve velvet chairs and dark wool tables, plants hanging above the bar and waiters walking around in fancy suits, it was nice, comforting but still striking.

“So what brought you to Seattle?” He asked her while a waiter brought them two menus, smiling at them both before walking off to the dimly lit bartender, already asking for two wine glasses.

“Well…i guess just fate, the owner of my last business passed away, he was very old and he didn’t have any family to take it over, I didn’t feel ready yet and so I lost my job, I met Ravi in college and we talked and he mentioned that he was now working in a morgue, and I just needed to get away from everything, I just packed up and left, I was sick of my life there…” she looked down at her menu, studying the drinks.

“Sounds like an adventure, couldn’t have been easy… want a bottle of wine for the table?” He interjected himself.

“Oh actually, I don’t drink… recovering addict.” She said the last part quietly but Blaine heard, he nodded and smiled.

“Don’t worry they do a great non alcoholic wine here!” She looked up at him and smiled, usually people giver her strange looks or pressure her to drink whenever she says she doesn’t, but he listened, he respected her choice and didn’t push, she liked that.

The waiter returned with the bottle and poured them each a glass.

“Cheers, to new adventures!” Blaine raised his glass and winked at her, she couldn’t help but blush when they clinked glasses.

The rest of the night went smoothly, talking about work and personal stuff, they had a lot of laughs and really seemed to click, why was Ravi so I sit at not to involve herself with him? She didn’t understand, but frankly at this point she’s forgotten all about his warnings, she was instead just enjoying her night.

Around 12 they had eaten and Blaine happily paid the bill, against Amy’s insisting that she’d pay her half.

“It’s on the funeral home.” He laughed, shooting her a playful look.

“Want to see where you’ll be working?” He asked, walking out into the cool air, watching her light a cigarette.

“So I’ve got the job?” Her eyes were wide and she smiled. “Thank you so much you have no idea how great this is!” She restrained from jumping up and down in pure joy.

He smiled back at her, leading her to her car, telling her to follow him to shady plots.

She could barely contain her excitement while tailing him, she rang Ravi to tell him the good news but he didn’t answer, most likely sleeping, he never went out, never even on weekends.

She left him a voicemail instead.

When they pulled up to the beautiful Victorian home she couldn’t stop staring, the porch lights glowing an orange light and the windows were slightly stained pink, giving them a beautiful shine.

“You like it?” Blaine’s voice broke her from her trance as he took her hand. “Come on.” He lead her to the front door, pulling out his keys and opening the wooden front door, motioning for her to go inside.

“This place is gorgeous! I don’t know what to say!”

“It really is…” Blaine’s eyes burned into the side of her head, eyes blown with lust. He’d been holding back all night, not wanting to scare her off. Sure it was a little forward of him to invite her to shady plots as a ruse to sleep with her, but I mean, he couldn’t help it, and plus it wasn’t like he was lying to her, she got the job, if not only for her looks but for her undeniable qualifications.

He lead her around the house, showing her the viewing room, the morgue and finally his office, that’s where he planned on ending the night.

“So what do you think?” He smirked sitting down behind his desk, leaning back and gripping the arm rests, his eyes now only focused on the slightest sight of Amy’s leg through the slit in her dress.

“This place is amazing, I’m so happy you hired me…” she trailed off, still admiring the interior.

“Not as happy as I am I bet.” He joked but the slight growl in his voice was unmistakable. He couldn’t stop staring at her, her legs were pale and perfectly shaped, from her skin but muscled calves to her thick thighs, tattoos still scattered all over them, he couldn’t help but wonder what other tattoos she had, maybe in less… visible places. Her lips were full and plump, so soft and kissable, and those eyes, those unbelievable eyes, they were hypnotic, she must have this affect on everyone, how could anyone not go crazy looking at those beautiful green orbs.

She shifted in her seat, noticing his staring and feeling slightly uncomfortable, she wasn’t used to this attention, but she liked it.

Blaine searched for an excuse to get her closer to him, looking around the room before his eyes settles onto his small office window.

“Come here, there’s a great view of the city from here…” she followed him as he stood up and walked towards the small window, moving the drapes away just enough for her to see the lights of the skyline sparkle in the night.

She silently thanked the architect for making these windows so thin, as she was practically so close to him that he could smell her perfume, now hours old, radiating from her.

“Wow, it’s beautiful…”

She gazed out to the horizon, but Blaine’s gaze stayed on her.

“Amy?”

“Yeah?” She looked at him, eyes darting from his to his lips, she’d felt it all night too, this undeniable tension between them, a connection that was more than potential coworkers.

His hand reached for her chin, tipping it up before leaning down and kissing her, soft, slow and caring, her hands made their way to his neck, fingers twisting in his short hair. They pulled away, slightly breathless, looking in each others eyes in comfortable near-silence. Just the sound of the record player in the background.

There was a mutual understanding between them as Blaine walked backwards towards his office chair, still holding her before sitting down, pulling the gorgeous woman onto his lap.

She initiated the kiss this time, pulling him in tightly while his hands explored her body, settling on her hips, massaging them gently while her kisses became more needy and biting.

They both knew what would happen next…

[levi-ish]

Enough is Enough | Jean Kirstein

Summary: It took you three years, three years avoiding something that was bound to happen; something he truly wanted to pretend would never happen. Three years after going on and off with him to finally break you, to the point that you were in the same spot you found yourself every week, on Jean’s chest, crying until your eyes were dry and your throat was burning from the inside out.

Pairing: Jean X Reader

Genre: [+18] angst, smut

Warnings: manipulation, cheating

Masterlist

“Enough is enough.”

It took you three years, three years avoiding something that was bound to happen; something he truly wanted to pretend would never happen. Three years after going on and off with him to finally break you, to the point that you were in the same spot you found yourself every week, on Jean’s chest, crying until your eyes were dry and your throat was burning from the inside out.

He never complained. He would always open the door for you to come in and lay all your sorrows onto him, crying while stuffing your mouth with ice cream and cheap wine until you felt sick, the same routine every time, like it was scheduled. Jean liked to joke about you being his own thunderstorm, that came around and shook everything up — but in truth, it was because you were a mess that was destroying everything around you.

He never complained. He would put you to bed after getting sick because of all the alcohol in your system, give you aspirins and water to make you feel better the next morning, give you the best duvet, the fuzzy one so you would feel better while cuddling it and leave the room all to yourself. He didn’t want to intrude, but would check on you every 30 minutes, to make sure you hadn’t thrown up all over the place.

He never complained. He didn’t mind that he had the work next morning, or that he had classes earlier the day, because it took only one smile from you and he was done for the week.

It would take only a smile and you were gone, as if you were never there in the first place, back in some guys arms again as you held the same genuine smile. As if you were meant to be there in the first place.

It took you three years to admit that you were broken.

For years Jean secretly hoped you would realize how bad you were hurting yourself, fingering your own wounds like it was pleasurable. Playing in your own blood as guys threw themselves upon you, offering amazing things, like you were a shiny new toy that became dull overnight.

But then, three years ago, you were introduced to his friend group, in a house party that was too big for you two, almost overbearing, and when Jean went to grab you a drink, a knight in a shining armor introduced himself as Eren, and suddenly, things changed—

—for the worse.

Eren was the same, but he held his face high, his ego above his head as he spoke to anyone. You’d get that feeling of comfort instantly, as if he was your soulmate or whatever, and that was the problem — that he was able to make you his as soon as he landed his eyes on you.

You told Jean yourself about the things you would hear: ‘you’re perfect’, ‘I’m yours’, ‘we are meant to be’, ‘you can trust me’; and all that repeated itself whenever he fucked up. And he did. Real bad.

He never bothered to make it official, he knew he had you on his feet, worshiping his every movement and serving as a rug for him to step on without care. He would hook up with random girls at parties, bars, places where you could watch from afar and suffer from the same heartbreak. But as soon as he was done, he would go back to you, hold your hands and make you feel as though you were to blame for his actions, and that taking him back was the best you could do.

And that sickened Jean.

It wasn’t because he was in love with you, no, but because he couldn’t stand to watch you break your face every time and collect your pieces to glue them back, hoping they would stay the same. He knew how bad it hurt you, and how bad it felt to feel unrequited. He just wished things were different.

So he did the same thing he would do every time you came; he put on the same old mask and held you tight in his arms as you cried deeply.

But this time, it wasn’t like the others.

You looked up from hiding in his chest, eyes teary and reddening from all the crying as you both laid on the floor, only supported by each others bodies. You had this angry rush going through your veins and being explicitly shown in your gaze, but there was something soft inside, something like peaking curiosity, like there was something you weren’t all that sure that moment.

“Enough is enough” you said as you stared right into his soul. Jean was confused, he had never seen this look, this thundering inside your orbs, like something was about to breakthrough and leave a mess behind. “I can’t keep doing this.”

Jean put one of his hands on your cheek, wiping the running tears from your face with his thumb and you leaned into his palm, now holding his wrist with your two hands, eyes never leaving him.

“Take me, Jean. Please” you pleaded as her nails dug into his skin, and now he was more confused than ever. His blood rushed through his veins faster than before and he swore that his muscles would burn his skin apart.

Wha—

“Make me forget” you moved her fingers to his face, holding his jaw in place and sniffing, containing your tears so they wouldn’t fall once more.

“I-I can’t!” He managed to say, shaking his head, and holding your forearms. “You’re blinded by the sadness, I—”

“I know what I want!” you stated, your tone was firm and self-assured, making every hair on his body stand as your eyes shot bullets through his. “I need you, Jean. You’re the one. I know you’ll make it all go away.”

You didn’t give him any warnings before connecting your lips. It was everything he ever imagined and more; the softness, the velvety tongue, the way your rhythm seemed to match his as you both held onto each other like your lives depended on it. He almost went crazy when your fingers started to explore his honeyed strands, holding his head in place while you commanded every move.

Jean snapped out of his trance and put his hands on your back, grasping your body with such tightness, as if you would run away, but the way your mouths danced together, it made him feel calmer about his fears and give in.

He loved the way you made he feel, as you praised him with cold fingertips and gave him truth in your comfort with every peck, butterfly touches flew through his skin while your whimpers began to grow. His arms hugged your small form as you climbed on his thighs to straddle him, shooting goosebumps on the poor man.

You leaned back for a moment, watching his moonlit face as his lips were covered in a shiny gleam, the same as yours. His hands moved to your waist, grabbing the fat there and massaging just above the bone as you took off your jacket without breaking eye contact, heading to the t-shirt you were wearing.

He didn’t want to look down, not wanting to disrespect you in any form, until you guided his big hands to your bare breasts, feeling the hotness of his palms as he grabbed them gently. You threw your head back slightly, letting out a soft hum and grinding slowly, making small groans form deep in his throat.

Jean gave you one small look to make sure you were consenting and dove into your skin, his hot mouth engulfing your nipples, giving the same treatment to each of them, rounding the little erect nub with his tongue. He had never been so close to you, and for years that had been the thing he wanted the most, so he made sure to enjoy while it lasted; he wanted you to feel how much he had wanted you.

You held onto his hair as you threw your head back, savoring each of the new sensations you got to experience that moment. He licked a path to your neck, feeling your heartbeats on the tip of his tongue and giving the sweet spot you held there open mouth kisses, praising with silent movements.

He trailed a way back to your lips, mouth ghosting over your sensitive skin until he found his desired destination. You welcomed him back there, holding his face as his hands were firm on your hips, guiding your every move as you felt him growing more and more by the time.

It took a little while for you to decide that it was enough and you stood, unbuttoning your pants and kicking them aside, rushing back to the mess of a man she’d let on the floor. Jean unbuckled his belt quickly as you found yourself sitting back on his lap, giving desperate pecks to his lips as he had pushed his clothes just enough to spring his hot member free.

The darkness and desperation didn’t allow you to stare for too long, quickly moving your panties to the side and sliding down on his shaft, a long mewl leaving your lips as he groaned into yours. From half-lidded eyes, you studied his expression; he had his brows furrowed and held his lower lip between his teeth, his hands gripping back on your thighs as you moved slowly.

It felt amazing, he loved how hot and wet you were, how desperate your hands tried to grab everything they could find, just so they could hold onto your desires. He loved the way your breaths came together as one and how hot the room around him felt. He loved how your nails dug onto his skin, making sure the half-crescents would be stained there the next day. But most of all, he loved how you’d chosen him to bless with your body and soul, and how connected he felt to you.

And oh, the way you moaned his name over and over as you felt him filling you up so good, he swore that was the sight that he wanted for the rest of his life.

“Ngh, Jean” you pleaded, a series of whimpers leaving your mouth. “I’m cumming.”

He held onto you tighter now, feeling the heat that pooled in his lower stomach now rush to his cock, hands going up and down your back as you got off from the closeness and hot breaths. Your grip turned stronger on his shoulders and you buried your face in the nape of his neck, moans now clearer and a mess of words falling from your mouth.

But there was one thing that he heard in the brim of the moment, that stuck onto him and was now the reason of his climax.

“I’m yours.”

You kept on repeating those words amongst sweet nothings in his ear, like a little devil trying to manipulate your thoughts, and then, you two had reached your highs, left dozing off on the wooden floor of his apartment.

It made him the happiest, to take you over and over, all night long, eyes craving into each others as the melodies of your mewls were the only things in his mind. He praised you all night long with his mouth, his cock, his body, and soul, making sure you knew you were loved and wanted the way you’d always wanted to be.

And then it was morning, and as soon as the sunlight hit Jean’s eyes, he knew it had to be a dream, a reality that would’ve only mattered to him. He turned to the side to find the empty bed, thrown covers as if you’d left in a hurry, not bothering to say goodbye, not bothering to leave behind his beating heart, his whole soul that was handed to you the night before.

Not even a note.

He would sight, feeling the emptiness rush back into his chest as he grabbed his phone, seeing that Eren had uploaded a new story, and he had the feeling he knew what it was already. And there it was, only a picture of your legs on his bed, and it was enough for him to know that he had helped you feed your lie.

You were a thunderstorm after all.

It took you three years to realize that you were stuck in something you’d gotten yourself into. And it took you one night to ruin him completely.

[duskholland]

throwing a fucking fit on mob!toms dick bc you’re needy for attention and he’s making u cockwarm him and he lets you until you tire yourself out and he grabs you by the face and says now that you’re done being a brat it’s daddy’s turn and he fucking plows you oh to be a puddle for this man

+ if he makes reader go back to cockwarming when he’s done and she’s just a fucked out subby mess for him sitting on his lap full of his cum and all marked up

18+ nsfw content. extended warnings beneath the cut! I took a couple creative liberties with this one but the core ideas are still the same... I can only say... yikes.

extended warnings: this is genuinely just atrocious who gave me the right to create it. your mind, anon, truly. anyways. d/s dynamics, mean!dom!tom, one instance of mild spanking, cockwarming, unprotected mxf sex (please wrap before you tap; condoms act as barriers against STIs as well as unplanned pregnancy). he’s really mean lol.

---

Maybe you brought it on yourself, but it’s not like Tom’s completely blameless, either. 

He’s been strutting around the house all day, dress shirt pushed up to his elbows, Rolex glinting off his wrist. Following behind him has been an air of confidence so pronounced it’s made you wet, subconsciously clenching your thighs together every time you find yourself in the same room as your boyfriend. The infuriating thing about Tom is that he knows he looks good - he knows just how much you like it when he wears his curls loosely like that, and how much you enjoy it when he kisses your cheek and lingers by your face long enough for his cologne to sweep over you.

He knows his effect on you, and he’s abused it all day. Teasing you, with small touches on your waist, your back. Kissing you briefly, barely letting his lips linger against yours for more than a second. Using that deep, husky voice of his. You’d tired of it quickly, growing impatient and frisky, which has led you here, to your current predicament.

You’re sitting in Tom’s lap, straddling his thighs. The two of you are alone in his office, and when you’d walked in, he’d been preoccupied with contracts and accounts. Now, his focus has shifted.

“Darling,” Tom’s voice is clipped, terse. He’s frustrated with you, that much is obvious, but he doesn’t push you away as you spend time nibbling at his neck, letting your tongue lap over his pale skin. “Y/N.”

You pull back, innocently looking up at him. “Yes, Tom?” 

Tom’s eyes are dark, glinting almost black with restrained lust. In one hand is a glistening ballpoint pen, and his other holds your waist. His expression is familiar, features carved with a blend of irritation, intrigue, and arousal.

“I told you I’m busy,” he says, accent pronounced. He gestures to his desk and the stacks of papers. “What don’t you understand about that?”

You run your hands over the front of his chest, enjoying the feeling of his warm torso against your palms.

“But I want you to pay attention to me.” You lean closer and press a wet kiss to the sharp line of Tom’s jaw, inhaling his musky scent and feeling your core clench in response. “I know you want to.”

“Not now.” His voice is firm. “Wait.”

You groan, letting your forehead drop to rest against his shoulder. Tom passes a hand over your back, stroking gently. “But-”

“You know, I don’t think I like your attitude today.” 

Biting your lip to hide the successful smile that springs to your lips, you pull away from Tom’s neck to look at him. One of his eyebrows stands higher, quirked as irritation holds fast over the rest of his face. Something has changed in his demeanour, and you know that you have gotten exactly what you want: you’ve riled him up to the point where he’ll touch you. 

“What do you mean?” You ask, rolling your hands over his shoulders. “I’m just trying to show you some affection.”

“No, you’re being a bloody brat.” 

You raise your eyebrows, letting your tongue draw across your lower lip. Tom’s holding your waist firmer now, and you inch a little nearer, gasping softly as you feel the line of his erect cock pushing up against his trousers.

“Seems as though you like it,” you point out, unhelpfully. With a grin on your face, you grind down against him, enjoying the way Tom groans in response, pleasure flickering out across his face.

“Take off your clothes.”

You swallow, the smile on your face faltering a little as you note the lack of playfulness to his tone. Tom likes being in charge, likes to be the one to call the shots, but usually, he’s warmer with you. You frown as you stand up and start to shed your clothes, wondering if, for the first time, you’ve pushed him a little too far.

“What do you want me to do?” You ask as you kick your panties aside. Tom’s back to looking at his papers, a focused expression on his face. He glances up, eyes briefly flickering out across your naked form, and he licks his lips. His nimble fingers go to his belt, and you enjoy the sound of metal ringing in the air as he undoes it.

“Come and keep my cock warm,” he asks, voice firm. “If you’re going to be a fucking brat, I may as well get something out of it.”

You swallow dryly, walking forward and folding into his lap when Tom opens up his arms. He pulls his length from his trousers, not bothering to fully take them down, and his hands pad over your bare back. He kisses your temple a few times, the warmth of his mouth reminding you that he’s still your boyfriend, he still loves you, and then he pushes your hair away from your face.

“C’mon, then,” he urges, a smirk biting at his pink lips. “Thought you wanted to feel me, hmm?”

You almost whine because he’s being so cruel to you, but both of you know that you love it when he acts like this. So you reach out and take hold of his length, sitting up a little straighter. You guide his flushed tip through your folds, spreading around the wetness that’s been pooled at your entrance all day. You take a moment to press his member against your clit, gasping softly at the arcs of pleasure that roll up your spine in response, but then his grip on your waist tightens, and you return to the task at hand. With a low moan, you slowly sink down onto Tom’s cock, feeling your walls expand as you settle there completely.

“Good girl,” he coos. Tom bottoms out and he runs a hand over your cheek, his touch soft. “Feels so warm for me, angel. So good.” Tom grabs your chin, angling your face up to look at him. His eyes are still stern, but they’re floating with appreciation too. “You’re going to stay still and hold me until you calm down, okay?” 

You nod your head, biting wordlessly at your lip. It’s hard to focus with his cock buried in you up to the hilt. Arousal courses through your veins, your cunt feeling hot and wet. Out of instinct, you clench your pelvic floor and Tom grunts. “Sorry,” you mutter, letting your forehead go back to his shoulder. You shy away in his neck, and he kisses your temple again. 

Tom returns to his work, and for the first thirty seconds, you manage to stay quiet. But then - then - he reaches for something on his desk, and his cock moves inside you, his tip brushing up against your g-spot, and you find yourself moaning. It just feels so good.

“Darling,” he murmurs. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

“Can’t help it,” you reply, moaning again when Tom moves and a different part of your cunt feels the hard veins of his cock. “I’m trying.”

“Try a bit harder, yeah? Don’t want to string this out any longer than is necessary.” 

Whatever papers Tom’s attending to, his examination of them is very thorough. You lose track of how long you sit on his cock, biting your lower lip, eyes prickling with frustrated tears. Every now and again, one of you shifts and you’re reminded of his presence deep inside you, and it just makes the burn worse. It’s the highest form of temptation, to sit there motionless, waiting on Tom’s command, and though you try to comply, you don’t quite manage to. 

You end up too fucked-up and restless to stay still. The result of this is you find yourself squirming, shifting around in his lap, clenching your walls around his cock, craving stimulation. You can hear in his exasperated sighs and grunts that Tom doesn’t like it, but it feels too good to quit.

“Right.” Tom throws his pen onto the desk. A moment later, one of his hands is in your hair, and the other goes to your chin. You squeal as he pulls you closer, taken aback by the sudden shift in pace, and Tom stares at you, hard. “I thought doing this would stop you from being a brat, but apparently I was wrong. You just couldn’t stay still, could you?” He runs his fingers over your back, hand grabbing at the curve of your bum. You gasp softly, and Tom chuckles. “Guess I’ll just need to teach you a lesson another way, hmm?”

You open your mouth to reply, only for Tom to lift you up and push you onto his desk. The cool glass burns into your back, and you cry out as he stands up, his cock falling away from your pulsing hole. It feels strange to be without him, your passage nice and acclimated to him, but it isn’t long before Tom’s pushing back into you.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, throwing your head back. Tom sets a punishing pace, pushing your legs to the sides until he’s able to pound into you, immense strength behind his thrusts as he stands by the edge of the table. Your eyes roll back into your head as you adjust to the sudden onslaught of pleasure, coming down over you in waves.

“So bloody warm,” Tom grunts. His face is flushed, eyes greedily taking in every part of your body as he fucks you relentlessly. Sounds of skin against skin fly through the room. “So wet, too, angel.” He runs his fingers roughly over your thighs, slapping one of them and causing you to cry out. “Always take me so well, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you moan. Your hands are in fists at your sides, and you wish he was closer so you could touch him properly. “Feels so good, Tom.”

Tom pounds into you, over and over again, his cock feeling so fucking good inside your tight passage that it isn’t long until you’re moaning loudly, your body shaking with anticipation. But he doesn’t go near your clit, and one look at the dark twinkle in his eyes dissuades you from asking him to. Instead, you bask in the feeling of him releasing his frustrations, moaning loudly every time the tip of his cock brushes up against your g-spot, knowing that this is probably as good as it’s going to get.

“So fucking tight,” he mutters, speaking almost to himself. He’s got a beautiful rosy blush on his cheeks, his eyes wide, and you recognise the stammering movements to his hips all too well. Tom looks up at you, licking his lips as he grins wildly. “Are you going to take me, darling?” He rasps, words falling together. “Going to let me fill you up with my cum?”

You nod, whining loudly. You can feel your climax, swirling around in the pit of your stomach, but it’s hanging out of reach. As you watch Tom’s face screw into an expression of bliss and feel his cock pulse inside you, you can’t help but pout, knowing this is all he’s going to give you, dreading the second he stops moving because you’re clinging desperately to everything he’s giving you.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Tom groans. His cum seeps into you, and you shudder at the sensation, clenching around his length as if to prolong the experience. He’s so handsome when he climaxes - face pinched into an expression of tight enjoyment, his grip on your thighs hard and unrelenting. As he starts to slow his thrusts, you groan, irritation replacing your lust as Tom stills, softening cock still lodged inside you.

“Tom,” you whine, sitting up on your elbows. You look at your boyfriend, a frown on your face. “Let me cum too,” you ask, rolling your lip into a proper pout.

He raises an eyebrow, breathless. “Are you joking?” Your hand twitches in the direction of your clit and Tom reaches out to snatch your wrist, pulling it to his mouth. He hums as he kisses the palm of your hand, eyes flickering back to the stacks of his papers. “I don’t trust that I can leave you alone and not have you stuff your fingers in your cunt,” he mutters, processing his thoughts aloud, “But I’m not done yet…”

With a mischievous grin on his face, Tom steps away from the desk, holding up a hand to tell you to stay still as he grabs a few tissues and cleans up his cock. He tucks it back into his trousers and sits down in his desk chair, beckoning you forward with a hand.

“What are you doing?” You ask, puzzled. You wince as you stand up, an enjoyable ache running through your tired body as you move towards him. You glance down and see his cum dripping down beneath your thighs, and moan at the arousing sight. 

Tom holds up two fingers and inclines his head back at his thighs. You gasp, understanding immediately what he wants.

“C’mon,” he urges. He pats his thigh with one hand and picks up the office phone with the other. “You’re going to stay here whilst I make some calls.” You slowly straddle his lap again and groan when Tom drags two fingers through your weeping slit, teasing your clit for a moment before sliding them into your tender cunt. You’re so wet, your hole a mess of your arousal and his milky cum, and you find yourself growing tearful as you feel him pump his fingers a few times. 

“Please,” you beg, burying your face in his neck. You feel more desperate than you’ve ever felt in your life - your cunt clenching around Tom’s fingers. Fat tears roll down your cheeks as he curls his digits and nudges up against your g-spot, stimulating you torturously slowly. 

“Please what?” 

Your fingers wrap around the front of Tom’s expensive designer shirt, and your tears soak the material covering his shoulders.

“Give me more.”

Tom tuts, and you feel the vibrations in his chest as he follows it up with a chuckle. A moment later, he kisses your forehead.

“Haven’t you learnt your lesson yet, love?” He coos, voice cold. “I’ll give you whatever I feel like giving you.” Tom pauses, slowly teasing your walls with his fingers. You clench desperately, but it’s not enough - it’s not enough by far. “So you’re going to keep my fingers warm, and you’re going to keep my cum inside your hot little pussy. Maybe after I’m finished my calls, I’ll let you sit on my dick again.” He chuckles. “I might even fuck you.” You whimper, your entire body shaking. “But if you think I’m seriously about to let you cum?” Tom breaks off, laughing. “Think again.”

[diavolosthots]

Request are opeeeeeen yay

Oh, well, could you please do a comforting scenario with Belphie and a depressed MC that's usually very cheerful but not right now (y'know, because of✨ Seasonal depression✨) with a lot of fluff and love?

Thank you in advance, and thank you also for all the things you write! It is amazing!!!

Requests are not open, this is from last time. Also i love how you go to emo boy for seasonal depression haha

Warning: mentions of seasonal depression

As the Seasons Change (BELPHEGOR X GN!READER)

As if life wasn’t already complicated enough as it is, it also just had to throw yearly change at you. The warm, fun, light, bright, and outdoors-y stuff was suddenly replaced by cold, long nights and tons of darkness. Now, for some people, this was great. Who doesn’t prefer shorter days and more sleep? But to people like you, this just put you into a spiral of moodiness. Everything that you looked forward to in Spring and Summer suddenly got taken away and it wasn’t… it just made you feel bad, you know? Things are dying, animals go into hibernation, and people are dressing more darkly. It’s almost as if the world decided to be emo for 6 months out of the year and as much as that is okay, it really isn't. You liked the sunshine and warm days with the softest of breezes. The beautiful flowers and trees and animals that come out to play. Of course, people also just seemed happier. It’s beautiful, to you. Besides, the Devildom already gave you a shock with its constant darkness but you somewhat got used to it, up until Diavolo decided that he needed to “keep up with the human realm” and decided to bring winter down here. So now instead of dark and hot as hell, it was dark and cold as hell. Seriously, it may not be affecting the demons too much but how did he think his two human and two angel exchange students would react?

Still, you can’t blame it all on Diavolo. The guy was trying to do something nice by bringing a little bit of human into the Devildom, probably forgetting that not all humans react the same way to sudden change and or dark and cold dynamics in general. Bottom line is, you were less than pleased. Your moods spun out of control ranging from sadness to anger to not feeling worthy. It was a confusing time and right now, the most you could feel was ‘okay’. “Lucifer, why don’t demons get weirded out by the sudden change in temperature?” You hoped that the eldest could give you some type of explanation or maybe even a little bit of sympathy so you didn’t think you were the only one, but he only shrugged. “Demons adapt easily. We have to, otherwise we’d be tormented by our own minds.” It wasn’t exactly the answer you were looking for and Lucifer could tell, but it didn’t take away from the fact that that was the only answer you would be getting out of him. 

You hated this, genuinely. You even tried talking to Diavolo about it but it seemed to fly right over the guy’s head. “Haha isn’t this fun? I forgot what the cold feels like!” No, Diavolo, it’s not fun. Did you know that some people prefer the cold and get depressed over summer too??? No??? Well, then don’t assume! Of course, you didn’t say that to the Demon Lord because although he himself never scared you, you were terrified of what Barbatos may do had you disrespected the future King like that. You felt alone because even Solomon preferred the dark and although the angels are being of light, they didn’t seem to be affected much by this either. Was it just a human thing? Maybe just a you thing? The more you thought about it, the lonelier you felt and the brothers began to notice your change in behavior. How couldn’t they? They felt bad for you. Beel tried to cheer you up with food, which usually made you laugh, but now you’re just turning away from him. 

Belphegor is the only one who somewhat seemed indifferent, although his looks at you lasted a little longer than usual. Usually you’d annoy him with your constant happiness and ability to jump around everywhere, so now that it’s gone, it’s weird that he actually kind of misses it. “Come cuddle with me.” “Belphie I do---!” But he didn’t even care. He just grabbed you and then dragged you up into the attic with him. That’s probably the most exercise he’s done in a while: dragging someone up the stairs, but it was worth it. Kinda. Maybe. “I didn’t ask. I told you.” You rolled your eyes at him because when does he ever ask? He just does his thing and seems endlessly happy with that, although something told you that was the biggest lie. 

“I don’t want to cuddle.” Now he’s rolling his eyes, falling down onto the bed in the attic and holding out his arms to you. “Maybe you don’t want it, but you definitely need it. Stop fighting with me.” you groaned but gave in, falling down beside him, trying to keep at least some space between the two of you, but Belphie didn’t care and immediately rolled closer, putting his head on your chest. “Stroke my hair and tell me what’s wrong.” What? See this is why you and Belphie rarely ever hang out. He’s so demanding, so needy, and you swore he rivaled Leviathan at times. Levi would beg you to stay until you would, though, and Belphie would just have a death grip on you. Right now you didn’t know which was worse. “Belphie I don’t… I don’t want to.” “Fine then just hold me, but talk to me.” You sighed, wrapping your arms around him because that seemed like a fair compromise and he was already half on top of you so what’s the point of arguing? 

“I just… my emotions are all over the place. I’m sad and then I’m angry. I get annoyed and then I get lonely… it’s because Diavolo changed the damn weather…” You felt stupid for saying that out loud and you could almost guarantee that Belphie thought the same thing, but he didn’t say anything, instead waiting for you to go on. “I just got used to the dark and the hot of the Devildom and now it’s… it’s dark and cold and it feels lonely and empty and I can’t cope with that. He did it to be ‘hip’ or whatever with the human world but he fails to realize that just because it happens naturally up there, doesn’t mean people like that.” “So you got seasonal depression.” You nodded, slowly beginning to let your fingers run over his back while he wrapped himself around you. Well, he more so climbed fully on top of you and snuggled his face into your neck. It tickled a bit so you managed to let out a little giggle, but it disappeared just as quickly. 

“Yeah… I was… you know I could’ve gotten used to just having dark and hot all year around but then he goes and does this and I can’t feel happy right now… everything is just so sad and gloomy. Spring just started in the human world and yet Diavolo decides to start late and extend winter…” Belphie snorted, finding amusement in your words. He has his own opinions about his Demon Lord, including the fact that that guy is a huge himbo, but he could never voice that out loud. Not when he knows Lucifer lives under the same roof as him. “He sucks. But you know… this does give you an excuse to just lay with me all day.” And yes, he truly believes that’s a good thing. Why wouldn’t it be? No expectations, just sleep and cuddles. He pulls his head out of your neck and leans up a bit, kissing your forehead before looking at you. “Just stay with me. I can make you sleep until Lord Diavolo decides winter is done. He’s going to get tired of it sooner or later.” 

You laughed softly at his proposal, shaking your head a bit. “I don’t know if you’re aware but humans need to eat and drink and you’d have me play sleeping beauty, meaning I’d die due to the lack of food and water in my body.” Belphie only shrugged, laying his head back down and snuggling closer. He was behaving like a baby right now, but a cute baby, who wouldn’t let you go. “I don’t see the issue, but suit yourself.” Of course the Avatar of Sloth wouldn’t see the issue. You rolled your eyes again and then poked his sides before holding him tightly. “You’re warm….” “I know.” Another eye roll but you also couldn’t help but smile. He’s such an idiot but at least you’re not alone right now. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer… for just a little bit.” 

Belphie smiled into your neck, kissing it gently before closing his eyes, “I thought so.”

[drawing-way-outside-the-lines]

➖ Mature content, 18+ ➖ check the trigger tags each time ➖      

Chapter 32 - December days & December ways.

Episode 2. Malou: *She returned just a few minutes later, knocking the door lightly* May I come in? *she took a deep calming breath, trying her best to calm down before he would answer* Dalton: Yeah! come in! *he sounded exited* Malou: *She took another deep breath... shit shit shit! Then opened the door slowly and stepped in* I brought everything *she smiled nervously and stepped closer towards the bathtub, quickly grabbing a towel and threw it on the ground, placing the food bag in the middle. She quickly spread the towel out as a sort of picnic blanket and opened the bag more wide, grabbing everything from inside, placing it on the towel. Then she grabbed a couple of folded towels, threw them on the spread towel and sat down on them, with her back leaning against the tub* So *she smiled wide as she looked at Dalton, scooting a bit around, so she now were half leaned against the tub, half against the wall, so she could face him better* What do you want? We got spring rolls... fried shrimp, fried chicken, rice, sweet and sour sauce, curry sauce, fried noodles with veggies and there should also be some beef in broth sauce... Dalton: *He chuckled lightly* You ordered for a whole family! Malou: Or a whole evening in bed? *she shrugged lightly* Dalton: Touche! *he reached a hand towards her, shaking it a bit so the most of water would drip off him* hand me some noodles and some shrimps! 

Malou: *She chuckled lightly and grabbed a box of noddles, adding some shrimp on top, then reaching it to him* I got sprite, coke and Fanta... I didn't know what you would like... so I ordered 2 of each...

Dalton: ... hm... just a sprite

Malou: *She nodded confirming and opened two, one for each of them* Can it stand here? *She placed the can on the tub* can you reach?

Dalton: Sure! *he smiled warmly and started munching happily* this is super cozy actually!

Malou: *She smiled wide* it IS, right?

Dalton: *He nodded agreeing* Totally!

Malou: *She chuckled lightly and grabbed some rice for herself, adding some shrimp and some sweet/sour sauce, sipping her soda before she joined the happy munching* how are you feeling now?

Dalton: Much better! *he smiled soft* well at least mentally and in spirit *he smiled soft* but I do admit it's probably a cold, my shoulders are kinda aching a bit...

Malou: *She sighed soft, worrying about him*

Dalton: Don't worry, I usually get over a cold pretty fast.

Malou: Well, I am worried *she frowned soft* I don't like when you don't feel good.

Dalton: *He couldn't help but smile. It had been a long time since someone had genuinely worried about him. And it felt better than he could describe. The fact that someone truly cared about his well-being was almost healing to him. Of course he didn't like how it affected Malou, but was it bad to enjoy the attention for just a moment?*

Malou: *She ate a bit more before she spoke again* if your shoulders get worse...I mean... I could give you a massage if you need it...

Dalton: Really? *he smiled surprised* you would do that? *He couldn't remember when someone had last taken care of any of his physical needs*

Malou: Sure... I mean I'm not at all a professional, but... I have never had any complaints either

Dalton: *He munched down a large piece of shrimp* I might take you up on it if I don't get too drowsy from the bath, it's soooo relaxing *he chuckled lightly*

Malou: Good *she smiled happily* I'm happy to hear you enjoy yourself, you deserve it!

Dalton: *He smiled soft* It's nice to know at least one person thinks that.

Malou: I'm sure a lot of people thinks that, Dalton... you're a pretty amazing person, if you ask me *she quickly looked down at her food, poking it gently while she felt herself blush, quickly shoving some more rice in her mouth*

Dalton: ...... *he suddenly felt shy for the first time in ages, at least as far as he could recall. And for the first time in forever, he was speechless. He couldn't help but smile as he continued eating in silence. It felt good to be special to someone again.*

*They continued eating, talking about this and that. Mainly music and what to do with the song they had been working on, talking a bit about Andy, Adrian, Dalton being a bit curious about him, then Raven too... even after they were both full and stopped eating, they sat there talking for at least another 10 minutes before Dalton realized his bath was getting cold*

Dalton: Uhm... there isn't much life left in this puddle *he suddenly said and chuckled* I think it's pretty much done for

Malou: *She chuckled amused* Okay.... if you're done eating I'll quickly gather everything and bring it down, then you can get out and get dressed *she smiled soft*

Dalton: Yeah, I'm beyond full!

Malou: *As she dragged herself up to better get a hold of everything, she almost had a tiny peek of naked Dalton under the water* Shit! *she sorta mumbled to herself and quickly turned as she blushed* Uhm...*she chuckled awkwardly and grabbed one of the towels she had been sitting on, reaching it to Dalton* not that I mind per say, but could you cover yourself a bit, please? There isn't as many bubbles as there were before....

Dalton: Oh! *He quickly grabbed the towel* I'm so sorry!

Malou: No it's okay, I'm definitely managing... but.. maybe you aren't interested in flashing yourself... at least without knowing

Dalton: I'm sorry *he felt embarrassed that maybe he had embarrassed her, and quickly stood up, wrapping the towel around himself, stepping out of the shower* I'm sorry Malou, I didn't mean to-

Malou: Hey it's totally cool *she smiled shyly* I don't die from the sight of a naked man *she chuckled soft* besides I didn't really see anything, and I'm also not complaining at all... even if I would have s- *she stopped herself, chuckling softly* we're fine okay? We're cool *she smiled soft*

Dalton: *He nodded softly* how about I go get dressed, then come back to help you?

Malou: No, I insist... stay in bed, get cozy... I'll quickly scoop this up and let the water out, then I'll come find you.

Dalton: Are you sure?

Malou: 100, Dalton *she smiled warmly* it will only take a couple minutes... should I bring anything?

Dalton: I don't know? Something to drink maybe? Water?

Malou: I could make you a tea if you want?

Dalton: No no, no need for the trouble *he smiled politely*

Malou: It's absolutely no trouble at all...I'll make for myself anyway, and even if I wouldn't, I'll always gladly make one for you

Dalton: *He couldn't help but smile, she was the sweetest person he had met in a long time* I'd love a cup of tea then, please.

Malou: *She smiled satisfied* Now get out of here, and get dressed before you get cold again! *she pointed her tongue teasingly at him, then bowed down, starting to gather things, getting them back into the bag*

Dalton: *He chuckled lightly, enjoying her slight playfulness, a thing he had sorta lost in himself the past year or more, but around her, it seemed to wake up again. He observed her for just a short moment, then quickly left the room, to head for his clothes drawers*

Malou: *About 10 minutes later, Malou gently pushed the door open to Dalton's room with her foot, smiling at him softly as she stepped into the room* I didn't know if I should bring my own blanket and pillow?

Dalton: You can if you want to? *he smiled soft and slowly half sat up in the bed* but there's more than enough blanket and pillow here if you don't mind sleeping with mine?

Malou: *YESYESYESYESYESOHFUCKINGYES!!!* No, I don't mind at all, saves me the extra trip *she smiled as casual as possible and sat down on the edge of his bed, reaching one of the mugs to him* Careful... I think I might have made them a little too hot!

Dalton: No it's perfect, my stomach is too full to drink right now anyway *he chuckled lightly* what do you wanna watch?

Malou: Anything really *she smiled soft* I mean, there's probably limits, but I'm up for most things, so whatever you have in mind...

Dalton: Well, there was a new show I planned to start *he quickly told a bit about the show* But I don't know if you would be into that? I don't want you to feel like you have to watch a whole show with me.

Malou: Well if it's any good, I wouldn't mind... could be cozy actually. It's been a while since I have enjoyed a whole show with someone other than myself *she sipped her tea lightly, then sighed softly as she was painfully reminded it was too hot!* Ahh! Fuck! *She quickly placed it down on the floor*

Dalton: Are you okay? *he looked at her slightly concerned, then quickly placed his own mug on his bedside table, behind his laptop* Do you want me to find something your mug can stand on, so it doesn't stand directly on the floor?

Malou: *She looked down at the floor, shrugging lightly, the floor seemed pretty clean to her* No it's cool

Dalton: I can if you want, it's no trouble at all..

Malou: It's fine like this *she smiled soft and dragged her legs up in bed, hesitating a bit before she lifted the blanket and got under it, being sure to stay on HER side of the bed* I'm ready when you are...

Dalton: Alright *He quickly found the Netflix series, then looked at her again* just get comfortable... I don't bite

Malou: I am *she smiled shyly, and truth was that she was, but she was also scared to get TOO comfy*

Dalton: Okay *he smiled soft, then pushed play, laying down as flat as possible, to grand her better chance to see the screen* Is this okay? Can you see?

Malou: Yeah I can see perfectly fine

Dalton: Should I flip the screen a bit?

Malou: No no, it's perfect, so as long as you can see...

Dalton: Yeah, it's fine from here too... just tell me if I get in the way at any moment

Malou: Okay *she bit her bottom lip lightly, excited that he was so thoughtful of her*

Dalton: *He shimmied a bit further down under the blanket and sighed relieved, quickly finding the whole situation cozy and relaxing* Take as much blanket as you need, okay?

Malou: Yeah *she nodded lightly, but was too nervous to make any sort of move, let alone getting more under the blanket, which would only result in getting closer to Dalton, once again trying her best to be careful not to overstep a line.* *They watched a couple of episodes, talking here and there about the show, and it was halfway into the 3rd one, Malou noticed Dalton was starting to drift off here and there... to her luck, since her eyes were getting heavy too!* Malou: *she laid observing him for a while, as she figured he wasn't paying full attention anyway, so it wouldn't matter too much, if she did or not. His back was still against her, but she could partially see a bit of his jaw and cheekbone, and left eye, judging by the angle of eyelashes she could determine if his eyes were open of closed. For now they were closed and had been for a while, so he was probably drifting off, or had drifted off completely by now. She observed him a little while longer before a strong urge overpowered her and she scooted a bit closer, close enough to feel his body heat, and close enough to reach out and wrap an arm around him, as she grabbed onto the blanket and pulled it a bit, in a way so more blanket could wrap around him, and she could get to tuck it around him* Dalton: *He moaned soft* Are you... tucking me in? *he mumbled with a sleepy voice and turned around, facing her* Malou: ... Yeah? *she smiled shyly, relieved that he probably couldn't see her blushing in the dimmed light from the laptop* I didn't want you to freeze... Dalton: *He smiled softly* That's the sweetest... I don't think anyone has tucked me in since my parents when I was a kid... Malou: ... I can't even remember if my parents ever tucked me in... sounds like you have good parents. *Well he had to have, since he was raised as such a unique character and gentleman.... a true unicorn* Dalton: They are... you should meet them one day Malou: *OMGDIDDALTONJUSTINVITEHERTOMEETHISPARENTS!?!??!??!!!* Dalton: .... Malou: *A teeny squeak escaping her, and she begged he didn't notice* I would love to meet them *she quickly scooped a bit of blanket over the bottom of her face, to prevent him from seeing the massive grin that was quickly growing on her face* I'm sure they are fascinating people *having such a fascinating son* Dalton: *He chuckled lightly* I guess they are? They are just my parents, you know? Malou: *She nodded lightly* Dalton: Thank you for the bath, and for tucking me in... well... and for being here with me... it really helps.... Malou: It's okay... I want to help you as much as I can Dalton: *He smiled soft* ..... I'm sorry I'm so tired and drifting off, it's just that I'm so damn relaxed having you here... Malou: *Trying hard to prevent another squeak!* Dalton: .... I'll try to stay awake till at least the end of this one... Malou: No, it's perfectly okay... you need sleep, and beside my eyes were getting heavy too... Dalton: *He smiled soft* are you sure? You don't mind if I close my eyes then? Malou: Not at all *she dragged down the blanket to uncover her face again, smiling warmly at him* Get some sleep, please. *She reached up, stroking a bit of hair off his forehead* I want you to get better.... Dalton: *He sighed happily* thank you *and closed his eyes, snuggling a little closer, so she could now sorta feel his breath once in a while, as he was breathing* Malou: *she held back another squeak, and laid there observing him closely, thinking about how absolutely wonderful he was, until she slowly drifted off as well, about 20 minutes later*

[hongism]

mists of celeste ➻ 37.5

➻ characters: yeosang, wooyoung, yunho ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst ➻ word count: 3.6k ➻ rating: M ➻ warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba chapter specific warnings: past abuse and dubious consent are discussed - no graphic depictions of any of the above, depictions of piercings and needles. this interim deals with heavy topics relating to a whorehouse and it is not required to read this interim to understand the rest of the story. it is an optional chapter as all interims are, so please skip over this one if you are not comfortable with the warnings tagged ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒ | masterlist

✧✧✧ act five ➻ part 4.5

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“I’d like you to give me more piercings.”

“I—” 

The blunt statement catches Yunho a bit off-guard, moreso than he would like to admit, and as much as he tries to hide that shock, it still slips through nonetheless. He blinks back at Wooyoung with some wonder in his eyes, enough to make the other man tilt his head in question. Yeosang stands beside him as well though the Elitist’s eyes remain unfocused and noncommittal. It’s been quite some time since Yunho gave Wooyoung any piercings — god, how long has it been? Two years? Maybe three? Surely that can’t be right… — and the doctor is absolutely no stranger to the reasons why Wooyoung would be asking for such a thing now. However, because he tries to be a good and fair doctor, Yunho never goes through with the piercings unless he and Wooyoung have talked things through. 

And by that, he means therapy, basically. Checking in on where Wooyoung is at mentally and emotionally before doing anything drastic. Yet that also brings more challenges than anything else because out of everyone Yunho has ever treated in his years being a doctor, Wooyoung is by far the more difficult. He doesn’t like talking about himself, his experiences, his feelings; he despises the thought of sharing intimate and vulnerable parts of himself outside of Yeosang, but according to the Elitist, it’s near impossible to get Wooyoung to speak even when it’s just the two of them together. 

Yunho would call it a phenomenon of trauma but frankly, it makes a perfect amount of sense.

Given what Wooyoung has been through and experienced — between being a slave and suffering at the hands of not one but two cruel masters — Yunho truly cannot blame the young man for being so hesitant to talk about his feelings. But, as he said, he knows vaguely how Wooyoung must be feeling if he is coming to Yunho for more piercings now.

“You hardly have any room left on those ears for more piercings, Woo,” Yunho comments through a slightly strained smile. Wooyoung opts to simply wave a hand through the air in response. Yeosang glares at the floor. “Take a seat.”

There is a large amount of struggle in this for Yunho. On one hand, he wants to be firm, stand his ground, and say absolutely not until Wooyoung opens up a little. On the other side of things, Yunho understands that this is what Wooyoung needs to cope with whatever trauma he experienced while being held captive. Yunho doesn’t know all the details, of course, he merely knows that Wooyoung was held in a cell on a ship with San and Mingi for several days before being sold to a whorehouse in Lynder. Then he stayed a few days in that whorehouse. He no doubt had to work against his will, no doubt gave in and didn’t fight what he was told to do even though he didn’t want it, and it no doubt brought back horrid memories from his time as a slave. Yunho isn’t stupid. Such a thing would be taxing for anyone.

The other thing Yunho is grossly over aware of is the fact that pain, to Wooyoung, is nothing. He still has a hard time wrapping his brain around that. Wooyoung… feels pain to a certain degree like any other person would but he has conditioned himself into not feeling it the way others might. The slice of a knife against his arm would be nothing but a pinch of a needle on his skin and wouldn’t bother him one bit; all it is to him is a small pinprick. He asks people to go harder on him when sparring. He punches closed fists against his thighs when he’s upset. He enjoys getting piercings after going through something that would otherwise be traumatic for others. Because it doesn’t hurt. Yunho recalls asking once about it because at the time he didn’t understand that either.

“Why do you ask for piercings as though you want to be hurt? If you don’t really feel that pain? What do you gain from it in that case?”

“Because it’s a pain that I get to choose. All my life I’ve been subjected to pains that are not my own doing or that I didn’t ask for. But in asking for a piercing and choosing where it will go and when it will happen… I get to choose that pain. Getting to have that after suffering pains I didn’t want feels liberating in a way. I enjoy it, as bad as that sounds. It helps me cope with what I’ve been through. Like, for every pain they force on me, I choose a new piercing. Eye for an eye but… on myself, I suppose?”

“Where would you like them?” Yunho inquires, shifting over to shuffle through his cabinets in search of his needles and barbells. “Just one or are we doing more than that?”

“Two this time, I think,” Wooyoung hums as he sits down on the edge of the first bed in his vicinity. Yeosang falls down on the bed next to him without a noise, still staying silent even though Yunho can clearly see how much this bothers him. Which part of it bothers him exactly is a mystery to Yunho because it could be any combination of things. The doctor wants to ask Yeosang if he’s okay with this but that would be a tragic mistake on his part so he bites his tongue instead. It would seem too much like giving Yeosang all the power in Wooyoung’s decisions, and doing such a thing to a former slave would only be detrimental to long-term progress. Besides, he doesn’t need the verbal confirmation when he can clearly see how much Yeosang does not want Wooyoung to do this.

Yunho’s hand hesitates over his growing collection of piercing rods, and he glances back at Wooyoung once more.

“Where are you wanting them?”

“Nipples!” The combination of Wooyoung’s blatant enthusiasm as well as Yeosang’s far too deadpan expression sends Yunho reeling, and he chokes around nothing but air before truly processing Wooyoung’s request. 

“A-Ah, I see, of course. One moment,” Yunho murmurs, blinking down at his collection with a bit of bewilderment before picking out what he thinks to be the right size barbells. He’s not unfamiliar with these sorts of piercings — ones on the body that is — and he has found himself well acquainted with certain body parts of the crew to a point where he is no longer uncomfortable with doing things like this for them. Wooyoung is one of the few (the others being Yeosang, Seonghwa, and Y/N) who Yunho is not well acquainted with in that way, however, so this does come as a bit of a surprise. “Your shirt… would you mind taking it off?” Wooyoung strips himself of his top in the next second, and Yunho watches the way the fabric catches on his metal collar before springing loose. Then his eyes settle on the expanse of freshly exposed skin. It elicits a sharp gasp from Yeosang as well, one that Yunho matches in intensity because… well. Yeah. Yunho isn’t sure how to phrase what comes to his mind then. 

“Wooyoung,” Yeosang exhales as he balls his fists around the sheets. Wooyoung stares forward at Yunho with a certain expectancy, like he’s challenging the doctor to not breathe a word about the sight before him, but Yunho would rather lose that challenge right now.

There are… bruises against Wooyoung’s waist. Vaguely shaped like large, manly hands that press the outlines of fingers into his tanned skin. They wrap about the young man’s lithe waist and leave little to the imagination about what sort of scenario and position Wooyoung must have been in when receiving such bruises. The sweeping sensation in Yunho’s gut is so strong that it nearly makes him sick on the spot. Yeosang just looks angry at this point, and Yunho cannot blame him all too much for that. With a sigh, the doctor sinks onto his stool and presses closer to the bed until his knees bump against Wooyoung’s. 

“Wooyoung, we need to talk about… this.” Yunho motions to the other’s torso, unable to peel his gaze off the ugly marks. 

“What is there to talk about?” Wooyoung sounds almost genuine when asking the question. “We all know the nature of working in a whorehouse. There’s nothing to discuss.”

“That’s not — you didn’t — Wooyoung.” Yunho may or may not be bordering on desperation when he exhales this time. He has dealt with a lot of different scenarios and situations as a doctor, but something of this degree is far out of his wheelhouse. 

“I asked them to be rough,” Wooyoung admits through a whisper so quiet that Yunho at first thinks he misheard what the man said.

“W-What was that?” 

“I said I asked them to be rough.” Wooyoung’s repetition doesn’t make it any easier to hear. Almost worse. Definitely worse. “I told them to rough me up a little, make me hurt some, I asked them to treat me that way.”

Yunho spares a pleading glance in Yeosang’s direction, hoping that the man will have some insight on this part of Wooyoung since that is far from Yunho’s specialty. He doesn’t know… intimate details about Yeosang and Wooyoung’s more physical relationship, but Yeosang would surely be the person to ask for confirmation about this side of the man. Instead of a small nod of approval or some sign that this is normal, all Yunho sees is a horrid scowl.

“You — did you want them to be this rough with you?” Yunho asks, tone falling into a more quiet one now.

“I asked them to make me hurt, Yunho.”

“That wasn’t the question, Wooyoung. Did you want them to do that?”

“I came here to get my fucking nipples pierced, not to be interrogated pointlessly,” Wooyoung snaps back. This time he pushes some venom into his tone but it rolls off Yunho’s shoulders without sticking one bit. “I like pain during sex. I like when Yeosang pushes me around and hits me some even when I’m fully in control. I barely feel it anyways so why should it matter at all? Now are you gonna do this or not because I’m sure I can do it myse—”

Wooyoung moves to push up off the bed and make for the door but Yeosang is quicker to wrap his hand around Wooyoung’s wrist and pull him back without a word.

“Did they do anything you didn’t want?” The Elitist asks through tightly gritted teeth.

The hesitation and silence speak volumes, Yunho is hurdling towards a conclusion he does not want to hear, and he is ready to cry by the time Wooyoung finally opens his mouth and answers the question.

“No, they didn’t. I got lucky. I got fucking lucky, Yeosang. All my clients in those days were fucking kind and only did what I told them they could because the workers knew I was fresh meat. They knew people like me needed to be treated gently for the first few weeks so they only sent clients with good and safe track records to my room. Those clients only ever did what I told them to, only did what I said was okay, didn’t touch me if I said no. I got lucky.” Wooyoung spits the words like he hates himself for speaking them, and Yunho thinks somewhere in the back of his mind that the man was not as lucky as he says he was. He should be relieved, grateful even that he got lucky, but he only sounds enraged. 

“Were there…” Yunho starts but his question dies a bit early on his tongue. He swallows around nothing, pulling a pair of latex gloves off his workstation and working his fingers into them as he mulls over his next words. When the last of the latex snaps around his wrist, he finally speaks again. “Were there ones who weren’t lucky?”

“Every fucking night after my clients left, I got to listen to the prostitute next door sob alone in a room with no one to help him. And the very first night I tried to talk to him through the fucking wall and ask him if he was okay and if he was hurt, and he told me I was lucky to be fresh meat. That they would listen to me because I was new and still had some hope left in my eyes. While he didn’t get that chance, he didn’t get to dictate what he wanted or didn’t want because people just took it from him for so long that he lost the will to ask. So yeah, there were ones who didn’t get lucky. There always are.”

Yunho opens his mouth but closes it just as quick, expression a cross between blank and just flat out dumb because he doesn’t know what to say if there even is something to say.

“That’s not your fault, Wooyoung,” Yeosang says instead, but his grip on the other’s wrist releases. “What happened to him is not your fault.”

“What was it that your mother said when you picked me out of a line of slaves? That I was lucky to be picked? But why did I get to be lucky while others suffered? Why did I get to choose not to be hurt or in pain while that prostitute was stripped of that choice? We were all whores for sale in that place so what did I do to deserve being treated better than him? What did he do to deserve being treated worse?”

“Woo…” Somehow the Elitist manages to sound genuinely saddened by the words. 

“The very least I could do was ask to be treated the same as him, was it not? But I couldn’t even have the courage to ask for that? The only thing I could do was ask them to hurt me even though I knew it wouldn’t really hurt. How lucky I was, right? If I’m not hurt, then it doesn’t matter who else gets hurt in the process, does it?”

“Wooyoung.” The edge in Yeosang’s tone pushes forward, bordering on threatening, but Wooyoung is hellbent on speaking his mind right now and any threat from Yeosang won’t stop him. Yunho has the thought to intervene and stop them but he knows — he knows how badly Wooyoung needs this right now. If this will help him cope with what he had to go through then Yunho is in no place to stop him. 

If this is what he needs to make Yeosang cope with it too, then Yunho again is in no place to stop him.

“How does it feel, Yeosang? Knowing that the only reason I was hurt in there is because I asked for it? Do you still think we got lucky?”

“Don’t ask me questions you don’t want the answers to.”

“No, because if it had been you in there, things would have been different. Because you — you are lucky, Yeosang. You always have been and you always will be. Yet no matter how many times I tell you that, you still refuse it. You—” Wooyoung stabs his index finger hard against Yeosang’s chest, voice coming out a bit choked and wet now “—could have sat there for weeks and listened to that boy next door cry and sob without an ounce of sympathy. Because that’s what an Elitist would do. That what you were raised to do, that’s in your blood, how your brain works. But it’s not how mine works. So you don’t get to sit there and tell me that I made the wrong decision.” 

Perhaps Yunho is too used to conflict and gross distortions of communication because when Yeosang stands down rather than fighting back against Wooyoung’s words, he’s overwhelmed. Simply put, he is overwhelmed. He doesn’t know how else to describe the swell of emotions in his chest. But Yeosang just lets his shoulders sag and his face falls flat once more, anger ebbing out of his expression like Wooyoung has a tight grip of control over him. Yeosang isn’t a person to stand down so easily; he’s stubborn, has a short fuse and even shorter patience that causes issues more often than not, and he hates when things don’t go his way. Yunho merely assumed the same would apply to his relationship with Wooyoung. 

It doesn’t, as it seems. 

“Then what would you have me do, Wooyoung? Let you bend until you break without batting an eye? Watch as you blame yourself for something that happened to a person you didn’t even know? Who had been there well before you? Letting you torture yourself for things that are out of your control is not logical or fair; I don’t need to be an Elitist to realize that.”

“You can be as upset as you want, I don’t mind if you’re upset, that’s not what this is about!” Wooyoung argues back, voice climbing in volume a bit. Yunho takes it upon himself to lean away from the bed a bit, and he does his best to make himself seem as insignificant as possible while prepping his clamps and needles. “It doesn’t matter if it was my fault or not. What matters is that he suffered while I did not. And even asking to be hit and pushed around and bruised wasn’t enough because I was still asking for it. I’m… I’m not saying that I wanted my choice taken away — I would never ever ask for that or want that in any capacity. That’s the worst possible thing that could ever happen to a person. No one deserves that. No one. It just didn’t feel fair enough even though it was all I could do to make it feel fair. So yeah, I got fucking lucky, I guess. But he didn’t do anything to deserve to be unlucky.”

“I’m not saying that he did, Woo,” Yeosang whispers to the space between them. “I’m certain that he was a good person who got a bad hand in life, and I’m sure he deserved much better than what he was given. You always ask me to consider your thoughts and feelings on matters. You tell me that it’s because I’m an Elitist that I can’t understand you. You say I just have to accept things and move on, but you don’t — I’m not some emotionless husk, Wooyoung. Being an Elitist doesn’t make me not feel anything. Just because I think with logic more than emotion doesn’t mean that I can’t have emotions. For every fucking night you were gone from my side, I suffered too. It felt like I was losing you to the fate you wanted to fight together, and there was nothing I could do except wait. I was lucky too. Lucky that I didn’t have to wait longer or fight harder to get you back. Lucky that we got you on the first try. Lucky to have you even sitting before me now. It’s not… the reason I keep saying that we got lucky isn’t because I think everyone else in that whorehouse deserves the fate they were given. It’s because we had the chance to fight what fate gave us and took it.”

Yeosang manages a shaky exhale. He blinks down at his hands without saying anything for several moments, but doesn’t look back up at Wooyoung even when he decides to talk again.

“For the first time in over fourteen years, I didn’t get to be your shield. I wasn’t at your side. It wasn’t as simple as coming home from a mission and having you by my side, in my bed, or being in your arms. None of that was even an option because it wasn’t a mission and there was no guarantee of if you would ever come back. I have dedicated my whole life to protecting you because I promised to never let you be hurt again. So you want the answer to that question? How does it feel knowing that the only reason you were hurt in there was because you asked for it? It feels like you’re fucking spitting in my face, Wooyoung, and taunting me for my failures because I wasn’t there to stop you.”

That causes Wooyoung to backtrack in an instant. Realization sinks through his skin, and Yunho doesn’t doubt that it hurts more than any pain that he could inflict on himself. Because that’s the thing about love — it can simultaneously bring you the greatest joys in life as well as the deepest ruin.

And right now?

Yunho can clearly see the ruin in Wooyoung’s features as much as he tries to contain the emotions. Yeosang doesn’t stop there, and it’s with a small shake of his head that he lifts his chin to look Wooyoung in the eye again.

“I’m not blaming you, Wooyoung. I know the kind of person you are, I know how deeply and strongly you feel, especially towards injustices and unfairness like what that boy experienced in there. I know you did what you thought you had to, and I’m not blaming you for making those decisions. But do not ask me to love you even a fragment less than I do now. I knew a boy who was in that very same position once too. Who didn’t have a choice, who couldn’t make any decisions for himself, who didn’t get to choose his pain. I knew a boy who sat on the other side of a metal divider in a bed too small for his body and cried because of how unfair life was to him. And I promised that boy I would get him out and save him and keep him safe from harm at any and all costs. I can’t keep that promise if you won’t let me.”

The breath of silence that ensues after Yeosang speaks is thick enough to choke Yunho, and he pauses his movements in the wake of that quiet because it just feels utterly wrong to even move right now. Wooyoung is dangerously still, perhaps more still than Yunho has ever seen him before. Then a tear escapes the corner of his eye and rolls down the ball of his cheek to pool at his jawline before dropping to the bed. It breaks the dam of the frozen atmosphere, and Wooyoung careens forward to smack his fist against Yeosang’s shoulder. 

“You stupid little — how can you say cute shit with that stupid lovesick look on your face? And I’m supposed to be okay? God, I’m gonna suck the soul out of you later for that, you absolute sap. Then ride you until you cry for good mea—” 

“Um, too much information, hello!” Yunho intervenes before Wooyoung can even think about finishing the thought in front of him. “Listen, I’m all for sex but I do not need to hear those kinds of details. Just… practice safe sex and wear protection. That’s all I need to know about your sex lives, please!”

“I’m just trying to show my appreciation here,” Wooyoung argues through a wet sniff, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand.

“Yes, well, save the appreciation for later. I’m still piercing you, am I not?”

“Was that enough talking for you then?” Wooyoung offers a small laugh that sounds more pitiful than anything else, but Yunho isn’t about to call him out on such a thing. 

“You tell me, Wooyoung.” Yunho shrugs a bit and glances over to where Yeosang is sitting, watching the way the Elitist folds a hand over Wooyoung’s without hesitation. “This is about how you’re feeling and where you’re at mentally and emotionally. I’m not the person who gets to determine whether it’s enough or not.”

“No, i-its — I feel… better getting to tell someone that. And getting to reassure you guys that it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Even if I still feel a bit of guilt about it, I know I couldn’t change it even if I tried. But yeah, talking about it — that helped.”

“I’m glad,” Yunho hums through a smile of his own. “I know you’re probably sick of hearing me say it over and over, but my door is always open if you’d like to talk more about it. That goes for both of you.”

“I’ll keep it in mind, Yun, don’t worry! But right now I’d like for you to put that needle through my nipples so I can get on with choking on Yeos—”

“Nope, okay! I’ll put this needle through your tongue to shut you up instead, how about that?”

✧✧✧ a/n: okay so!! i felt like this chapter was kinda necessary? considering what we saw wooyoung go through and i didn’t want to bury what he went through or act like it didn’t happen but bec of the heavy nature of the topics i wanted to make sure that it wasn’t absolutely crucial for anyone to read this and feel like they were missing out. these are serious things, they are important things, and as always i tried my best to represent those things as best i could and as realistically as possible to avoid any romanticizing of these topics so i hope i was able to convey that and the feelings the characters had well. please please please take care i love u all as always be safe and stay healthy !! i’ll see you guys soon with another chapter!

also it’s been a minute but this survey is always open for you guys to take whenever you like!

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[slashingdisneypasta]

Sylvester the Cat x Toon!Reader || Drabble

Plot: I'm just experimenting with the Looney Tune idea so possibly enjoy some cute Sylvester Jr wanting you to be his new other parent.

Warnings: Toon violence?

You're just tying up the ends of Wile E's bandages into a tight little knot, prompting a wince from the coyote and a little board sign saying 'Ouch!'. Immediately you wince, stepping back. "Ohh... sorry, Wile E... I'm not exactly certified... " Daffy made you do this job, seeing as you're worse at sports then any of them- and that's saying something.

His head falls forward slightly and his ears wilt as you step back.

"Okay! Who's nex- " Turning around - picking up some more bandages and band aids in one fist, and an industrial sized tube of Acme branded antiseptic cream tucked under your other arm, - you look about for your next patient.

- And droop as soon as you see what kind if work load is waiting for you. It looks like every toon you know is lined up for medical attention!

The bandages and band aids slip out of your hands and scatter across the floor. "Oh boy." Quickly taking a deep breath to refresh yourself, you perk right up in order to get to it. Okay! "Sly! You're first, what's wro- Uh, hah. Nevermind."

Looking at him... maybe you don't have to ask...

Tweety flies through the giant gaping hole in Sylvester's tummy and the cat gives great sigh, slumping forward. "Why are the only times he's in there are when he can get out!!"

"I know, I know, woe is you. Sit down." You have no time for sympathies right now, you can allocate Sly only 2 minutes- and that's because you like him. The other patients coming get only one. "Okay, Sly!... um... " Oh brother you're stuck. Why do you do with an ailment like this?? Sylvester patiently sits, waiting for you to finish as you set your paws on your hips with a huff... wondering where exactly to go from here. Hm. "Do you maybe... know where your insides... are? Like, presently?"

"Uhh, they were... disintegrated... "

You two share a concerned look. "Maybe... spackle?- "

Just as Sylvester is gulping down his fear at your crazy suggestion, a certain black and white kitten comes speeding out of the crowd at the two of you. "FATHER!" Sylvester Junior stops at his fathers side, eyes wide with worry. "Father! Is he okay, Y/N??"

As you start rifling through your medical kit for something actually useful, you waive a dismissive paw at the kitten. "Oh, don't worry SJ. Your dad has recovered from worse- you know that."

Oh- that gives you an idea! It may not be strictly medical... or orthodox in the least, but its worth a try! Come on- you guys are toons. Straightening up, you look to the court; Searching for the little yellow speck you know is flying around somewhere.

Sylvester Jr nods slowly, pouting. His eyes are big, and round, and adorably full of worry. "Do you think I can sit on his lap safely, Y/N?"

Oh he's just the cutest. You turn back to your patient and raise your brows at him. "Can he?"

Sly perks up at the chance to get some much needed affection - rather then shameful berating, - from his rugrat. "Of course he can- come on, son- oww... " Unfortunately Sylvester Junior throws caution to the wind, and launches his little body at his father- almost going all the way through and causing you to seriously wince, but luckily Sylvester has a good grip on him and sets him in his lap rather then inside the cavern that was his belly. "Aghhh... thanks, son... I feel a lot better now... oof!- "

Sylvester Junior has thrown his arms around his father, and your heart leaps at the adorable scene...

Except- you wouldn't have, if you had heard what was really going on in that hug.

Sylvester's eyes widen and he deadpans at his son, hearing the words that come out in a rushed, hoarse whisper as soon as the hug he thought was genuine closes around his neck. Of course... this is his son, after all...

"How am I doing, Father?? Is Y/N looking?? I've been told that other cats become more inclined to date a cat who's good with children!, and since you're hopeless at that, I've elected myself, your darling baby son, to help you! So, are they looking father??"

"Junior!"

"Yes father???"

"I do not need your help to woo anyone, and I'm working on Y/N... " Sly tries to assure Jr, not sounding totally sure as his eyes fall downcast. "Its, uh, just a slow process, is all... " After a moment, he proudly lifts his chin, and he would puff out his chest, if... you know.. it was there... "I got your mother on my own, didn't I??"

Sylvester's proud moment is cut off quickly as his son pulls away from him to give a very deadpanned, sassy expression at the mention of his absentee mother cat. "And where is she, may I ask, father??"

A loud 'Aha!' comes from you a few feet away as you jump up, and grab something right out of the air.

Deeply rolling his eyes, irritation flickering inside him at the antics of his son, Sylvester Sr plonks him down on the bench beside him, angrily crossing his arms. Jr follows suit, looking like an exact replica of his father... except, smaller.

Blinking blankly around to see the two, with Tweety now wriggling around in your paws, you giggle at the sight. "What happened to you two? You were having such a heart warming father-son moment a second ago!"

"I'm full of shame, Y/N. Oh woe... "Sylvester Jr sighs, shaking his head as Sr turns his head slowly to look at him. "How am I to face my friends at the playground... My father- a loser!"

Sylvester pointedly looks away, angry eyes pointing towards the court. "My son... a spoiled brat. How am I ever to show my face in society, again?" An even heavier sigh comes out of Sylvester Jr at that remark, and Sylvester Sr immediately jumps up from the bench, pointing a stern finger at his son. "Oh no ya don't- Don't you dare get out that bag!!"

"But Father! I'm full of shame!" Sylvester Jr whines, holding the paper bag in his lap as you watch the two in wonderment. How they can bicker like this, and still have such an adorable, open relationship you have no clue - some kids are too scared to talk back to their fathers, - but the state of these two's relationship is truly, really endearing to you.

Oh how you love Sly... You catch yourself swooning at the thought of him, and immediately stop yourself. Stop it, Y/N! This is not the time for that. Taking a deep breath, you shake yourself. Okay, back to the task at hand.

Meanwhile, Sylvester snatches the paper bag away from Jr. "Oh, cut that out, wouldja?!"

While there's a pause in the argument, you jump and take your chance to hold up Tweety in front of Sylvester's face- his pupils shrinking at the sight and his teeth growing sharper, somehow.

"Oh no oh no- You mean old puddy tads- using me like this!" Tweety exclaims, wings pressed firmly to your paws and pushing, struggling to wiggle up and out of your tight grip. Yeah yeah, you think. Tell it to the choir.

Hopefully when I let Tweety go, Sly will give chase... and be all better!

Heh... isn't that how it works? It is, right? He'll 'perk right up'! you could say.

"Alright... here goes nothing!" You squeak, closing your eyes and letting Tweety go, hoping to god that Sylvester doesn't trample you in his endeavour to snatch his favourite little yellow bird.

Feeling a wind blow against you side and ruffling your fur as Sylvester springs to action, you slowly crack your eyes open again- first seeing Sylvester Jr as he still sits on the bench in front of you swinging his legs over the side of the bench, before peaking over your shoulder, and... "Yes!" You cry out as soon as your keen feline eyes catch sight of Sylvester looking good as new again on the court, chasing Tweety through the still-roaring basketball game. Clasping your hands together, your tail wiggles excitedly behind your back. "It worked!"

"What?" Sylvester hears your cheering and immediately halts in his tracks, looking at you then down at himself- a big, toothy smile spreading across his face when he see's he's all better. "Y/N! You did it! Thanks!"

"Of course!" You call back, then point at the scoreboard and wink. "Now kick those Monstar's butts for me!"

The green Monstar turns a squinty looking evil eye on you at hearing your words but you don't care- you're far too busy burning the image of Sly giving you a thumbs up into your mind.

"Heheh, no problem... " That trademark evil grin slips across Sly's face again as he rubs his paws together, turning his attention back to the game as you sigh, paws on your hips; Happy with your job well done.

"Uh, hello??" Someone speaks up from behind you, and you jump, suddenly remembering the mile long line of toons that still need medical attention.

Ohhh... great. You slowly turn around, seeing Elmer giving you angry eyes and quickly look extremely apologetic, paws awkwardly behind your back and spine as straight as a plank. Oops!

You might seem help... you think you tilting your head to see the rest of the long... long, l o n g line. "Uhh... SJ? You wanna help me play nurse, maybe?"

"Oh, yes Y/N!" He exclaims enthusiastically, hopping off the bench and taking up your medical kit in his short little arms- which is way too big for him. You giggle and take it from the kitten, patting his head. "I'll be happy to be your assistant!"

Fist bumping each other, you wink. "That's the kinda attitude I like to see! Lets go."

~

A couple hours and countless injuries later and the game is coming to a nail chewing close. Truly, this is a new level of anxiety you're feeling as you leave Sylvester Junior, now exhausted and up past his bedtime, curled in Granny's lap with a blanket strewn over him. Then you sit back down to watch the game beside a very injured Sly, as Witch Hazel defibrillates Taz.

If Michael doesn't make this shot - with but seven seconds to go, - he has to move to Moron Mountain in your place. You all dragged him here for help and now h's the one with everything on the line.

You cant help but feel a massive load of guilt.

"Oh I cant watch!" You squeak suddenly amongst the thunderous sounds of the audience at 4 seconds, and cover your eyes. "Tell me when its over!"

.

.

.

3 seconds later, the buzzer screeches and you hear the toons around you cheering, and peak out nervously from beyond your paws. ... What happened?

Your gaze flickers to the score board.

Oh my god. A deep, relieved breath comes out of you. "We won!?"

"We won!" Sylvester concurs, jumping up from the bench and throwing a fist into the air. Then he puts his paws on your arms and beams down at you. "We're not gonna be slaves!!"

You wonder what you could say in response, but the one thing your body is telling to you to do is throw your arms around him- so you do. And he doesn't think twice before squeezing you back, picking you up and swinging you around.

Then the world comes crashing down around Sly, as his son opens his eyes to see the scene- and gasps. The kitten sits up quickly in Granny's lap and points. "Oh, father! You did it! I knew you could do it!"

Immediately Sylvester puts you down, his paws retreating from you and a definite sense of nervousness - and maybe embarrassment? - settles over him. You raise your brows, confused, but still swimming in the joy of the game being won and just tilt your head as you confusedly smile. "What did he do??"

Sly Jr doesn't even think a second before gleefully elaborating- despite his father very nearly shaking his soul free waving his hands at him in a doomed endeavour to shut his son up. "No- stop, Junior!- "

"Asked you out! Didn't he?" As the wide eyed bewilderment on your face and the utter horror on Sylvester's dawns on Jr, his shoulders drop and he turns disappointedly at his dad. "Didn't you?"

"No!"

"Oh, father!- "

Sylvester Sr's tail, shoulders, and head slump forward as he turns his kitten around so he faces away from the two of you, embarrassment replaced by exasperation. "You're tired, son. Go to sleep. Night night, sleep tight, sweet dreams, don't let the bed bugs bite and we'll talk in the morning." Then he slowly, meekly turns back to you.

And you're practically glowing. "Sly... what's he talking about?"

"Father likes you!- " Sylvester Jr tries to speak up again, turning his head but Sr twists his head carefully back, a reprimanding tone in his voice.

"Sleep! Hah hah... " Sylvester (Sr) turns back to you, arms held carefully behind his back as he chuckles nervously. "My son is... troubled... a little- "He point at his head and swirls his finger; A gesture reading 'Loopy'. As soon as the meaning behind that word and his gesture occurs to you, you visibly droop. Oh. Okay... I guess SJ was just messing with us... Sly watches this reaction, and his ears perk up quickly; Sensing some dissappintment. "I mean, uh... unless you liked the i-idea?"

You peak up at him again from the floor, seeing his face slowly going red. "... D-do you?"

"Wha- I asked first! You answer the question."

"Hey." Setting your fists to your hips, you look stubbornly at him. "You were just taking it all back! So you tell the truth. Which is it??"

"Yeah- but I asked the question first!"

"Sylvester James Pussycat Senior!"

"Pfft... if you think pulling full name on me is going to change anything... " He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. "You've got another thing comin'!"

Your eyes narrow, and so do his, before suddenly Taz jumps up from the bench he was resting on and ZOOMS past Sly so fast and so hazardously, that he's caught off guard and jumps forward with a yelp- accidentally knocking you.

"Oh!-"

"H-hold on, I got ya!!" Sylvester's eyes widen to the size of dinner plates and he grabs you just before gravity manages to drag you down to the ground; Pulling you back up to your feet- which just so happens to bring you two extremely close together.

Two sets of eyes widen and faces go red.

Everything seems to go a little quieter around you, the deafening sounds of the auditorium seeming to get plunged under water as the crazy all just slows down for just a moment. Enough for you to enjoy the few seconds you foreseeably get before he jumps back like someone sprayed him.

But to your surprise, he doesn't move. Just stands there and looks shocked... but does not move even an inch away from you. Doesn't even let go of you.

Finally, after a few good moments, you sigh and give in. "... Sly, would you like to go out sometime with me?"

"Ah... " His ears flatten against his head as he looks bashful, with a cute little smile that makes your stomach do backflips as he curls his tail around yours. "Yes, I'd like that very much."

You lean up and give him a feather light kiss on the cheeks- and he goes even redder.

[plsimsuchasimp]

i’m sorry (ft: sugawara).

by request: “Hi!!!! Okay im so glad your requests are open - could I please request some angst with Sugawara? Where the reader is his best friend and secretly loves him but he doesn’t know? Then maybe the reader and Suga fight and then reader gets hurt or something (maybe a car accident) and when the Karasuno team finds out, Suga is devastated and goes to the hospital and tell the reader that he loves them?? Thank you!! ❤️” -anon

yes anon i’m happy to do this- i kinda changed up the prompt a lil bit so i’m sorry about that but i hope this measures up to your standards! (i’m ridiculously soft for suga so this makes sense)

genre: sadness (literal tears were shed in the process of making this)

ft: sugawara koushi x reader

warnings: car crash, fighting, cursing, hospitalization, death

wc: 2k

“Y/n, why are you so upset? I get that you’re concerned, and I’m grateful for that, but she’s genuinely a good person and I’m serious about her!” Suga walks away from you, his back turned, shoulders raised slightly in his sweater. You can sense his frustration, his confusion, but you don’t care. His face is pouty, lip sticking out ever so slightly, and you know you can’t look at him or you won’t be able to keep yourself from kissing him right then and there.

The thing is, you know she’s a good person. And that’s what hurts. See, you’ve been in love with Sugawara Koushi since the day you met him at the bus stop five years ago, on a hot summer day with a butterfly in his hair.

You can’t stop him from getting a new girlfriend, and you know it’s selfish of you to hope he likes you the way you like him, to hold on to him for all these years.

Sometimes when it’s late, you let yourself drift into your memories. The spring days when he would take you hiking, out into the mountains to show you his favorite spots, the times when your stomachs hurt from laughing at the dirty jokes he found off of random places on the internet, the rainy moments and baking cookies when it just seemed calm. With Suga, you felt at home like nowhere else. 

Now, your eyes sting unfairly, and you turn away from him as he glares towards you, brow furrowed. Struggling to keep your voice even, you say, “I know, okay Kou? I just- I don’t know, she gives me bad vibes.”

You know he doesn’t mean to be rude, but when he scoffs, your heart squeezes just a bit and tears prick your eyes. “You’re telling me to call off a whole relationship because she gives you bad vibes? You did this with all of my exes, too!” Suga sighs, hands on his hips. “You know you’re my best friend, but honestly, y/n, this has to stop. You can’t control my life!” 

He’s right. You know he’s right, and that’s the harsh thing about it. You want him all to yourself- everything about him is entrancing, intoxicating, familiar. Jealousy is a bitch.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

At this point, his jaw drops open at the sheer audacity of your remark. “I can’t do this with you today.” He throws up his hands and sits on the bed, making it clear he doesn’t really want to talk anymore.

Suga never really fights with you. He teases endlessly, but he always stops himself before he really hurts you, and the fights between the two of you are always calmer on his side. He’s usually the first to apologize, but it seems this is a sticking point for the two of you.

“Well? Go!” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he regrets it. You flinch backwards at his words, and he doesn’t miss the unmistakable glint of tears in your eyes as you walk out of the room.

“Fine, I guess I will!” As soon as you’re outside, you cover your mouth with your hand, your vision blurred from large drops threatening to spill from your eyelashes. You muffle your sobs with the sleeve of a sweatshirt Suga lent you, and it just makes you cry harder when you breathe in his slight cologne. 

He wasn’t going to let her go this time. You missed your chance.

You’re running, but where to? As soon as your thoughts stop spinning, your feet freeze, and you glance around you. Shaky breaths escape you as you duck your head and attempt to cross the street, questioning looks from passerby making your cheeks heat up. 

All of a sudden, you hear a car horn and freeze to see a car speeding towards you, out of control. The last thing you see before everything goes black is a child pointing at you, and you almost laugh at the incredulity of the situation. Then you black out on impact.

Back at Suga’s home, he sits in his bed, running his fingers through his silky hair. He curses under his breath, already hating the feeling. 

He hates when the only person he’s ever truly loved is mad at him. 

Honestly, Koushi can’t fathom why he keeps getting other people to date him, momentary distractions from his everlasting affection for you. You, the only person who’s there for him when he’s hurting, the only real friend to stay near him through everything, the only person he fell in love with on first sight. He wanted to be with you, but he didn’t want to ruin this was. 

Better to be certain friends with you and never get what he truly wanted than to try and lose you completely.

Suga picks up the phone to text you when he receives a call from an unfamiliar number, marked as the hospital of your district.

“Hello?"

“Is this Sugawara Koushi?” The female voice on the other end of the line asks.

“Yes, is everything okay?” He responds, curious as to why the hospital is calling him in the middle of the day.

“Well, we have Y/N L/N here, and you’re listed as one of their emergency contacts. Would you mind coming to the hospital to fill out some paperwork?”

Immediately, his world freezes. “W-what did you say?”

“I said, Y/N L/N is in the hospital and we need you to come in and see them.” She’s patient with him, voice even and calm, clearly used to people in shock from news of their loved ones. “They were involved in a car accident.”

He nods, momentarily forgetting she can’t see him. “Yeah, I’m on my way.” 

The line clicks, and he sits there for only a minute before hurrying down to his car, grabbing the keys and starting the car. He seems to forget basic movements, mind consumed only with thoughts of you. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered, edging above the speed limit on the road. He was tempted to honk at someone, but refrains from it, knowing it won’t help with the turmoil of emotions he was feeling.

Then, it hit him. This was his fault. He almost stopped the car in the middle of the road, throat closing as guilt washed over him. Koushi didn’t know you’d take it so hard, didn’t mean for it to come off that harshly.

He arrived at the hospital, and as he walked in, the receptionist looked up at him.

“Sugawara Koushi?” 

“Yes,” he said, and watched the smile slowly fade from her face. He noticed she tried to hide it, ducking her head, but it was too late. “Are they- are they going to be okay?” he gulped as she didn’t respond.

“Room 208,” she said curtly, “You should probably go in.”

The lights seemed to blur into each other as Suga practically ran to your room. Every footstep seemed to take forever, travel only a few centimeters forward. He couldn’t get there fast enough, accidentally bumping into the wall and muttering a hushed “sorry” to it.

He arrived. The door was almost too heavy, or maybe it was just the fear making his limbs heavy as lead.

There you lay, and it was worse than he thought.  Tubes of all sorts trailed from your body to things around the bed, crowding and seeming to close you in. Scratches ran down your cheek and there was dried blood on your hairline, streaking down your face. The breath fell from his throat and he stood in the doorway, paralyzed. 

This could not be happening. 

One look and he could tell you weren’t going to be okay. An IV drip led into your left arm, and you were unconscious, so fragile, so angelic. It looked as if you were only sleeping, like the countless times you’d snuggled into Suga’s shoulder in the warm summer nights, staring at the blanket of glittering stars far above. The ones in your eyes, though, outshone them all. 

When you slept, you always seemed so peaceful, so comforted, but now your brow was slightly furrowed, your lips drained of color and slightly parted. Even in this state, you were still the most beautiful person he’d ever seen.

Shakily, he made his way to the chair and sat down in it. He tried to swallow, but his throat was dry, and tears were dripping down his face before he could wipe them away. A choked sob escaped him as he reached out his hand, hovering over your limp one. 

He took your hand, and he hunched over to feel how cold it was. Your hands were always colder than his, which made him a perfect match for you. Never before, though, had he felt this ice. 

Suga’s shoulders began to shake, and he clutched your hand, silently begging you not to leave, please please please don’t leave me, i don’t know if i can survive without you. Of course, there was no response but the steady beep of the heart monitor, the only thing reassuring him that you were still there. 

Shaking, he brought your hand to his lips, barely brushing them against your knuckles. 

“Y/n, I’m so sorry.” Whispered words fell gently from his lips, trying to stay composed for you. “Please stay with me. Please don’t leave.” His tone rises, voice breaking in desperation. “P-please.” 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He rocked back and forth, holding your hand as if it was the only thing tying him down. “I-I love you.”

There. He said it, those three words he’d wanted to say since the day he saw you smile for the first time. Hopelessly, madly, endlessly in love with you, only you. 

When you didn’t respond, he let himself sob, let the pain overtake him. Hot, salty tears spilled onto your hand, and he silently wished for a sign, a movement, anything to show that you weren’t gone just yet.

In that moment, he whispered everything he wanted to say to you, a thousand words choking him and clogging his throat to the point where he couldn’t breathe anymore.

The doctor came in, shutting the door silently behind him. “Sugawara-”

“Call me Suga.” His voice was quiet, reserved, threatening to break.

“I’m afraid y/n isn’t going to make it.” The doctor sighed, mercifully pretending not to notice Suga’s muffled cry. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“You’re joking, right?” Suga raised his head, puffy, red eyes desperate. “Please- tell me you’re joking.” The silence from the doctor told him otherwise, and Suga felt his heart shatter in that instant.

He squeezed your hand, and just as he did, the heart monitor stopped beeping, a flat tone emitting from it. He couldn’t stop the heartbroken cry from spilling from his mouth, his breath stolen by the endless constriction of guilt and grief in his chest. 

He stayed there for another two hours, crying over your hand limp in his grasp. When Daichi arrived at the hospital to drive him home, he didn’t want to leave. 

Suga stared out of the car window, numb. It was impossible- the world couldn’t be this cruel. 

It’s your fault, your fault, your fault, the voice in his head whispered. The broken sobs that spilled out of him hurt, stabbed at his breathing, but he didn’t care. It was his fault that you were gone, forever. 

The rest of the day passed in a haze, the sun setting with flared colors that you would have loved. The stars were brilliant, but Suga couldn’t look at them. His pillow smelled like you, and everywhere he looked had some imprint, some memory of you. You were the only person he’d ever love, and you had been stolen from the world in an instant.

In the months afterwards, nothing was the same. He saw you everywhere, expecting to see your texts pop up on his phone, accidentally ordered your drink at the boba place you would always go to. 

At the funeral, his stiff black suit seemed awkward, but you always said he looked handsome in one. That was the last time he got to see your face besides pictures, the fading memory of the person who loved him for who he was.

the person who he would love for the rest of his life.

you’re an angel in my eyes.

a/n: tbh this is probably one of the most painful things i’ve written so far suga im so sorry also THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR 50 FOLLOWERS ITS CRAZY i finished this at 2am i’m going to be so sad if it flops <\3

[shihalyfie]

Daisuke’s background with his family

We don’t really know a lot about the Motomiya family compared to many of the others in the Adventure and 02 narrative, only getting a few glimpses here and there, and ultimately Daisuke (by his own self-admission) turns out to not really have any deep opinions or hangups about them, but it’s still interesting to see how it has an influence on his background!

We learn in 02 episode 14 that Daisuke and his family actually lived in Odaiba back in 1999, with Daisuke as a (probably honorary) member of the soccer club under Taichi, Sora, and Koushirou. It’s hinted here in Daisuke’s face, but the Adventure novels and Spring 2003 confirm that he was extremely frustrated at his inability to protect his family (with Jun “gently comforting” him), to the point where “becoming strong enough to protect everyone” became his motivation thereafter.

So, really, when it all comes down to it and serious things are happening, this is a family that does have a lot of love for each other -- Daisuke outright admits in the Character Complete File that it gets lonely when even one person’s out.

As it turns out, even the Motomiya parents have really dramatic personalities (the Animation Chronicle calls extra attention to Jun’s personality having been something she got from her mother), to the point where they suddenly get over-the-top excited when Ken comes over in 02 episode 35, and Daisuke’s irritated reaction makes it clear that this is expected behavior from them. (I promise you that Daisuke’s dad’s statement doesn’t come off as nearly as harsh or cruel in Japanese as it probably does in English here; it’s not any worse than him calling Daisuke a little silly.) In the end, Daisuke’s tendency to be over-the-top with all of his emotions and get ridiculously dramatic about everything is just something that came straight from his family.

Actually, when you think about it, Jun isn’t really that different from Daisuke either, right down to losing a ton of brain cells when things start involving a crush -- she’s only slightly more in-your-face about it (and only via goading Yamato on a “date” in 02 episode 7, but this is “date”, singular, basically just convincing him to spend a day with her and take her somewhere, not actually being in the illusion that he returns her feelings or expecting a long-term relationship). She’s simple-minded, airheaded, fantasizes about the idea of Yamato returning her feelings without ever actually doing anything conclusive about it, and then, the moment she realizes that Yamato’s taken, mopes about it for one in-universe day before immediately switching her affections to Shuu like nothing had happened. So, really: it runs in the family.

(This also means that Daisuke’s probably not in for that much trouble if a day ever comes in which it turns out he’s conclusively rejected by Hikari for real -- his current relationship with her is based off him never making any firm statement and thus her being able to smoothly dodge everything, but if things ever truly get conclusively to the point where things won’t pan out for him, it’s not hard to believe he’d actually get over it quickly after an initial bout of disappointment.)

In 02 episode 4, Daisuke makes an accusation of Jun for constantly talking badly about him, and, if the Animation Chronicle is to be believed, he’s not actually wrong -- apparently “spreading bad rumors about him wherever she goes” is a habit she has. Given what we learn about her and the siblings’ relationship later in the series, though, it’s unlikely she’s doing this out of conscious malice -- by “rumors”, basically just trash talking her little brother the same way a lot of people reading this post probably love trash talking their siblings when they’re out of earshot, much like her calling Daisuke “not cute at all” earlier in this same episode. It’s a world that Takeru and Yamato (who had only seen Jun at her “best” earlier in the episode) are completely unfamiliar with, and Daisuke’s attitude of “hating” her causes Yamato and Hikari to get upset at him, but many a Digimon fan commenting on this episode has pointed out that a lot of sibling relationships are more like this than the ones between the Ishida-Takaishi and Yagami siblings -- a lot more ostensibly “vitriolic” and not as unequivocally admiring.

On top of the fact that Daisuke and Jun aren’t in need of overcompensating with their relationship due to a rift like Yamato and Takeru, or one party having unhealthy repression problems and requiring extra care, Daisuke and Jun are also a whole six years apart, which is even given extra attention in the Animation Chronicle. Which means they’re not very close in perspective; Jun’s all the way in high school, dealing with a baby brother who’s still in elementary, and so it’s rather understandable that they’re not really going to see eye-to-eye very much.

We get an example of a “fight” between them in 02 episode 35, but...

Jun: I really envy you, Daisuke...All you do is eat, sleep, play and you don't think about anything else, do you? Daisuke: I think about lots of stuff! Jun: Lots of stuff like what? Daisuke: Like...Lots of complicated stuff. But if I think too much, my brain freezes so I need to take a break sometimes. Jun: I'm sure it's nothing serious. Daisuke: Shut up! What about you?

It’s not really a serious fight at all -- just a lot of banter, the sort that a lot of real-life siblings would attest to also having been in a lot of. Perhaps, just the natural result of having a household where everyone seems to have the same slightly rough-around-the-edges, somewhat messy, overly dramatic, simple-minded and straightforward personality -- which also means they end up bouncing off each other and getting a little “crowded” (Daisuke very clearly not following Jun’s warnings to not use her soap bottles written all over them in red pen in 02 episode 15). But for all Daisuke had used the strong word of “hate” to refer to their relationship back in 02 episode 4, it really just seems like he’d been his usual dramatic self about it, and it’s all banter and occasionally being quick to criticize. Moreover, whenever Jun criticizes him, he’s actually less angry about snapping back at her or getting genuinely offended or sad the way he might with anyone else -- all he does is just fling a few quips back and move on, and doesn’t take it all that personally, so you could say he’s conversely rather comfortable with this status quo of getting to bicker with her.

But, really, banter is just banter; even something as little as “Daisuke (seemingly) laughing to himself in the bathroom” is enough to make Jun worry that something’s wrong with him in 02 episode 15, and Daisuke’s father also personally thanks Natsuko for helping Daisuke out and waxes cheerfully about his son and friends having a fun Christmas party together. In fact, considering the context that Daisuke seemed to be pretty friendless prior to the series, the above scene carries the added implication that he’s probably pretty happy to see his son finally making some proper friends and going all the way to Tamachi to be part of a party.

And, eventually, as things get much more serious and the exact truth behind what Daisuke’s been up to is revealed to his family in 02 episode 50, they take this with the exact amount of grace and worry that a proper supportive family does.

Hence, why Daisuke can make a statement like this in 02 episode 49. Even if his family isn’t ostensibly full of hearts and affection, they’re supportive when it really comes down to it, and it’s not like Daisuke himself even really takes the surface bantering between himself and his sister all that seriously, so he doesn’t feel the need to ask for anything different -- and what he really wanted since that day three years ago was to be able to protect his family, and that’s exactly what he’s going to do now. Other than Hikari, the others had gotten “illusions” related to deep-seated issues involving their personal lives, but it’s not like he really would want it to be any different at home -- arguably it’d be outright weird to him if Jun suddenly got lovey-dovey with him or something -- and now he’s surrounded by supportive friends and his own partner. Sure, he has some tendencies towards being a bit on-edge and insecure every so often, but right now, in the midst of this very serious situation when something has to be done, and after a whole series’ worth of bonding with his new friends and gaining a sense of purpose, that’s more than enough for him.

[jonsa101]

Max Goodwin and Randall Pearson: The Well-Meaning, Incredibly Self-Centered Leading Men We’ve Grown to Love.

Hey fam! Like I said, I’ve been writing a ton of meta lately and this is another one that’s just been sitting in my drafts. It’s basically a This Is Us and a New Amsterdam meta which is something I haven’t done before but something I want do more of. In my Game of Thrones days I used to write a lot of meta about shows and characters that had similarities so this is fun for me. I hope y’all enjoy this. ALSO THIS HAS SPOILERS FOR BOTH SHOWS!!!!!!!

Without a doubt the two most popular shows on NBC is This is Us and New Amsterdam. And what’s not to love? They’re both emotionally driven, heartfelt, shows that focus on incredibly deep and complex topics. Though one show focuses on family dynamics and the other focuses on the healthcare system, these shows are very similar in more ways than one. Case in point, Max Goodwin and Randall Pearson. The more I watch these two shows, the more I realize how these two characters are so alike!!! These two men are kind-hearted, well intentioned, individuals who genuinely want to make some sort of positive difference. They are incredibly ambitious and always have “bright ideas” and “goals” they want to accomplish and somehow they’re able to meet those goals without ever having to sacrifice their wants and needs. By every definition these men are the “main characters” or the ultimate “protagonists.” These are the folks that we are supposed to root for. At the same time, though these men have many traits to be admired, when you truly look at it both of them can be incredibly self centered and selfish especially when it pertains to their romantic partners and love interests. No matter how appealing you make these characters out to be these men clearly fall under the Behind Every Great Man trope.

The Behind Every Great Man trope has been used countless of times throughout Cinema and TV History that I’m sure that I don’t even have to explain it to you but for the sake of this meta this is how it’s defined.

“Behind Every Great Man...stands an even greater woman! Or in about a hundred variations is a Stock Phrase referring to how people rarely achieve greatness without support structures that go generally unappreciated, and said support structure is a traditionally female role via being the wife, mother, or sometimes another relation. This trope is specifically about a man who is credited with something important, but owes much of his success to the woman in his life.”

This trope usually has a negative connotation (and rightfully so) because the man who often benefits from this is an asshole and unworthy of this type of support!

For example:

Oliva and Fitz

Cristina Yang and Burke

Cookie and Lucious

Ghost and Tasha

There are countless others but these are a few of the couples that come to mind for me. Randall and Max aren’t comparable to any of these men that are listed above but they are still operating under the same trope. It just looks nicer because Max and Randall are inherently good and inspirational. They are the heroes of the story. I would even argue and say that both men fall under the Chronic Hero Syndrome trope which is defined as

“Chronic Hero Syndrome is an "affliction" of cleaner heroes where for them, every wrong within earshot must be righted, and everyone in need must be helped, preferably by Our Hero themself. While certainly admirable, this may have a few negative side-effects on the hero and those around them. Such heroes could wear themselves out in their attempts to help everyone or become distraught and blame themselves for the one time that they're unable to save the day. Spending so much time and effort saving everyone else can also put a strain on the hero's personal or dating life.”

Just because Max and Randall have these incredibly inspiring aspirations, is it fair that their wives and love interests are always expected to rise to the occasion and support them. Is it ok for their partners to continuously sacrifice their wants and needs because they love these men? 

Let’s dive into it. 

Truth be told, Beth Pearson, Helen Sharpe and Georgia Goodwin had to endure a GREAT DEAL to emotionally support the dreams and aspirations of these men while sacrificing so much of themselves in the process. In media we often see women sacrificing so much of their wants and needs out of love for these male leads and rarely do men do the same thing for their romantic partners and love interests. All three of these women clearly fall under the Act of True Love trope defined as

“The Act of True Love proves beyond doubt that you are ready to put your loved one's interests before your own, that you are truly loyal and devoted to them. Usually this involves a sacrifice on your part, at the very least a considerable effort and/or a great risk. The action must be motivated, not by morals or principle or expectation of future reward, but by sheer personal affection.When your beloved is in dire need of your help, or in great danger, and you do something, at great expense to yourself, for the sake of their safety, their welfare, or their happiness, thus proving beyond any doubt that you put their interest ahead of yours.”

Over the past few seasons we have seen all three of these women truly live up to this trope without any true consequences or accountability from the men they’re making all these sacrifices for. For example, in Beth and Randall’s marriage, how many times did Randall spring an idea on Beth without truly talking to her or considering her wants first? Everyone thinks these two are an ideal couple but she has endured A LOT for Randall.

Randall has spontaneously quit his job, moved his dying biological dad into their home, bought his biological dad’s old apartment building, fostered and adopted a child and also ran for city councilman outside of his district. In all of these decisions, Randall “consulted” Beth about it but at the same time didn’t really consult her. In a way there has always been this expectation of Beth to just go along for the ride with what Randall wants. Is anyone else exhausted from reading that list?! That’s a lot for partner to endure and lovingly support. But Beth has endured and has been Randall’s rock through it all!!! What worries me is that the one time Beth spoke out about her wants and needs of pursuing dance again, he couldn’t match the same energy she was giving him and eventually it led to world war three between them. Though things are looking up in their relationship  and he’s starting to support her more, has Randall nearly given to Beth as much as she’s given to him? Absolutely not!

Similar to Randall, Max also had a wife who was a dancer. in fact, she was a prima ballerina. Unlike Randall and Beth, Max relationship with Georgia was rocky from the start. When we were first introduced to them Max and Georgia were separated and rightfully so. Georgia was never Max’s first priority. The hospital always came first in their relationship. He couldn’t even dedicate a full night to her for their proposal. In order to “save” their marriage they decide to have a baby and they both committed to taking a step back in their careers in order to do so. The problem was Max didn’t keep his side of their commitment and took a job to become the medical director at the biggest public hospital in the U.S. She gave up her career to start a family and he totally and completely betrayed her trust. So throughout season one we see them trying to rebuild their marriage but even in the midst of trying to rebuild a marriage based on trust and mutual respect Max still keeps things from Georgia. For several episodes he didn’t tell her that he had advance stages of throat cancer. He only told her when Georgia asked him to move back home. That’s fucked up! Then throughout their pregnancy he was never fully there for Georgia because he was either to preoccupied with the hospital or himself. At the end of it all, Georgia died tragically at the beginning of season two and really had nothing to show for it in her relationship with Max other than her daughter Luna.

Now let’s bring Helen Sharpe into the fold. While all of this stuff was going on with Max and his wife in season one, Max was developing a deep friendship, borderline emotional affair with Helen. Their relationship started out with Helen being his oncologist. As the new Medical Director of New Amsterdam, he swore Helen to secrecy about his diagnosis so that he could still run the hospital. Through that secrecy they eventually formed a deep bond but as his cancer got worse his secret was let out of the bag. He realistically needed someone to step up and run the hospital when he was going through chemo and though Helen already had commitments she stepped up and became his deputy medical director. Somewhere along the lines Max and Helen started developing feelings for each other. As Helen becomes aware of those feelings, she made a choice and decides to remove herself as Max’s doctor. He BITCHES about it but eventually accepts the boundary she’s clearly trying to set. Mind you, as this is unfolding, like Max, Helen is also in a new relationship with her boyfriend Panthaki. As Max’s cancer seems to be getting worse with his new doctor, she goes back on her boundary and decides to be his doctor again. This pisses her boyfriend off because he could already peep the vibe between them and he breaks up with her. When we get into season two, Max’s wife died and Helen set him up in a clinical trail (with a doctor she previously fired) that’s helping his cancer.  Unbeknownst to Max, this doctor ends up holding his life saving treatment plan over Helen’s head and in order for his treatment to continue she gives this doctor half of her department!

Helen has sacrificed a lot for Max and now in season three she’s finally prioritizing her current wants and needs first! Like Randall, Max is starting to turn a page and is starting to support Helen and truly listen to the wants and needs that she has. All of this is good but my question is did any of these women have to sacrifice so much for the men in their lives to get a clue?

Why is it that this is a trope we see in media time and time and time again? Even if these men are good, why don’t we still keep these male characters accountable when they put their significant others in these situations that are clearly not fair? I’ve watched countless tv shows and I’ve seen a lot of tv couples but I think I have only come across one couple where the male counterpart has selflessly loved his significant other and has always put her needs above his own. 

That character my friend is none other than PACEY WITTER

I might be mistaken but I think Joey and Pacey are the most popular ship in tv history and honestly, rightfully so! This is only example I can think of where the male in the relationship so willingly puts the wants and needs of his partner first. It is a completely selfless and sacrificial love. He never wants to hold her back and he never asks her to compromise her wants or needs for him. That’s why I think so many women love Pacey because in a sea of TV relationships, Pacey Witter is a fucking unicorn.

So to wrap this up does this mean that I hate Randall Pearson or Max Goodwin? No! I adore them. I love both of their characters so much. I just think that when we see the media continuously play out the sacrificial wife/love interest for the sake of their male counterparts, it should be called out. I’m all about sacrificial and selfless love but it should come from both sides.❤️❤️❤️

Anyway I hope y’all enjoy this! As always my DMs are opening here or on Twitter @oyindaodewale