#his expressions in this show are always heartbreaking and sweet

[hogans-heroes]

Jet lag is miserable so here’s some soft Austin as Will

[ditzydoe444]

MDNI 18+

ak!jason with puppy!reader in subspace ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

“takin’ me so well sweetheart,” jason grunted as his balls slapped against your ass as he had you pinned down in a mating press. sex with jason was always passionate, full of emotions whilst he took charge destroying your cunt in every single way. he was so damn big the stretch would slightly burn, but seeing the way he praised you, calling you his sweet girl motivated you even more. jason was never one to be gentle during sex, it was always rough. his hand would go up to your throat, gently squeezing it, whilst he would whisper the filthiest things in your ear. occasionally, if you whined to squirmed too much, he would spank you, your cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink or even red.

“s-so good jacey,” you whined, your eyes shutting tightly as you bit your lip. jason always took charge, there was just something about seeing you all submissive and wide eyed that drove him insane. the way you were so damn obedient to please him and how you bent yourself in every single damn position he wanted was addicting to say the least. you were his own personal toy, his sweet girl.

“always so good for me,” he groaned as your tight walls gripped around him, “always so tight for me hm? guess your pussy knows where home is.” he wasted no time to increase his pace, the lewd sound of skin slapping against each other filled the room.

jason being the generous man he is, always allowed you to come multiple times, until you were starry eyed with a small pathetic smile, whilst thanking him sweetly.

“gonna cum jay,” you whined as your perfectly manicured pink nails clawed his back. “yeah? you’re gonna come for me sweetheart?” jason cooed.

in a matter of seconds your walls tightened, almost milking him when you came. you were always so gorgeous when you came, the post orgasm glow on your face, and the dazed hazy expression in your glassy eyes.

you mumbled incoherently before turning rolling into the blankets pulling the material over you. “don’t sleep yet sweetheart, i need to clean you up,” jason whispered softly as he tried to pull your blankets down from your body, but you resisted stubbornly.

“t-tired,” you said with your softest voice as you tightly shut your eyes, refusing to let the blanket go. “cuddle jay?” you pouted as you clung onto your favourite teddy bear he bought for you.

“i know sweetheart, but i need to clean you up ok? just let me wipe you with the towel.”

“n-no, don’t leave me,” you whined, immediately grabbing his hand to restrain him.

“i’ll be right back sweetheart.”

jason would be lying to say that his heart didn’t break when he turned back in the bathroom, seeing you all soft and vulnerable in bed cuddling your teddy with the saddest expression on your face was adorable and heartbreaking. you were like a puppy who just got kicked.

as jason wiped down you down he couldn’t help but to noticed your dazed expression, your eyes staring into nothing whilst your mouth was opened in a small ‘o’ shape.

“you there sweetheart?”

you nodded, barely. it was like he fucked you so hard you were gone.

“speak to me sweetheart,” his hand gripped your chin softly, forcing you to look at him.

“m just tired,” your voice barely audible as you avoided eye contact, as your hands fidgeted with your teddy bear.

after wiping you down, jason placed your favourite blanket over you, wrapping you up in a burrito. “cuddles j-jacey you promised.”

jason let out a low chuckle before wrapping you tight on his arms. “play my show,” you mumbled, your fists clenched around your favourite blanket like it was going away. jason knew you were going to be like this for a while, and he didn’t mind, he loved taking care of you.

there was just something about cuddling up with you, watching your favourite cartoon show whilst you held your stuffy tightly. these times were also so intimate, he would go and brush your hair, fixing the mess he created during sex, untangling the knots whilst he brushes your hair until it was fully smooth.

his hand would gently pet your head in an attempt to coax you out, whilst giving the constant reassurance that he wasn’t going to disappear into thin air.

[thehauntedetheral]

JUST AN WRITING IDEA.

I just had a weird writing idea. Imagine you are a daughter from a very influential and wealthy business family. Your parents want to set you up for an arrange marriage with a powerful family just like yours. So to escape from this arranged marriage you came up with a plan. You told your parents you like yandere and want to marry him only. And your parents loved this. Because after all yandere has everything power, status, reputation, money, everything. But how come you are ready to marry him? What's the sudden change of heart? After throwing so many tantrums and rejecting numerous grooms.

Well few days ago your best friend told you that yandere likes only men and might be in a secret relationship with his male secretary. And he doesn't tell about his sexuality to anyone because his family who has most of the shares of company is homophobic.

So you made a plan. You told your parents you want to marry yandere only and no one else and yandere doesn't like women so he will obviously reject you and you will cry over the rejection and postpone your arrange marriage for some months in the facade of heartbreak.

Your plan began. To show your family and people that you are badly down for yandere you did many things. You flirted with him like a shameless every chance you got.

Would tell everyone how you are madly in love with him and will marry him one day. While people thinking that you are the most delusional person on this earth.

You would crash into his office uninvited and act like a cute girlfriend which you totally are not.

Would call him the most weird and chessy names like "My marshmallow, my sweet pea, love of my life, my future husband" in front of everyone while yandere ignores you like it's a daily occurrence which actually now has become a daily occurence.

"Won't you give your girlfriend a hug or a kiss?"

"I know your way of telling me that you love me is ignoring me"

One day you brought a huge ass size flower bouquet for him while saying "Since you don't give me flowers one of us have to do this babe"

You quite enjoyed teasing him. And did I mention you also teased his secreaty with yandere's name. By saying "Yandere is quite good looking good choice secretary. Have a nice night" while winking at him.

You are hundred percent sure that yandere thinks you are one of his crazy delulu fangirls just like thousands of many. But is only tolerating you because you are daughter of one of his important person.

Until one day he drags you into a corner at an event. Traping your back infront of a wall with his arms from side towering above you.

"Are you really that desperate to marry me, huh?" He asked.

"Well of course after all you are the love of my life " you Said smiling staying in your crazy fangirl character.

"Then marry me this weekend " he said with the most straight expression.

"Wait. Aren't you gay?" You said being totally surprised.

"I have always liked women y/n. "

Little do you know yandere ignored you in start but as the time passed now you have got him stuck with your thoughts 24/7. And there is no way backing out now. He is going to have you no matter what.

This is just a idea I got into my mind and shared it with you. Hope you liked it. If you want a longer version let me know through comments.

For More Yandere Reading:

[alexanderwales]

The spell showed you how another person saw you.

It was expensive, but not so expensive that it didn't find its use. If you were in the burgher class it was expected that you would experience it a few times in your life. One of those was before marriage.

Cordelia went in with great trepidation. She was sure that Aldwin was right for her, but less sure that she was right for him.

And then, two hours later, once it was all over, they had to talk about it, in a way that Aldwin loved to talk about everything.

"There was a sweetness to him," said Aldwin. "But now I worry, only lightly, that you think I make more concessions than I really do. There was more romance to him, I suppose. Very lovey, which I suppose is good."

"Well, that's good," said Cordelia.

"Is something the matter?" asked Aldwin.

"No," said Cordelia. "You can go on."

"I need some time to stew," said Aldwin. "We talked a lot, but I do fear that we got tangled in tangents. I think we could have been good friends, actually, if he were real, though ..."

"Yes?" asked Cordelia.

"He was intelligent, but I knew more than him, which I suppose is an artifact of the spell. He didn't know all the things that I knew, he knew all the things that you knew, except you don't expect me to know much about textiles, so some of those things that you knew were barred from him, and that meant that he sat at the intersection of our domains of knowledge." Aldwin looked at the ceiling for a moment. "I do wonder if there's a way around that."

"Perhaps," said Cordelia.

Aldwin looked back down at her. "Is something the matter? You haven't said what your experience was like. Was she pleasant?" He grinned at her, a winning grin that had made her fall in love. It was heartbreaking.

"Aldwin, I'm ... not sure that I can do this," said Cordelia.

His grin turned to a frown. "Why not?" he asked. "I love you, you should have seen that."

"Aldwin, she was perfect," said Cordelia.

"You're perfect," said Aldwin. He laid his hand on hers.

"No, Aldwin, I'm not," said Cordelia. "And when I've heard you say that before, I've always thought that it was you being poetic, but I met her now, the me that lives in your mind, and she is perfect, she has none of my blemishes, none of my flaws, she's kind and gracious and intelligent and funny."

"My dear, you're all those things," said Aldwin. "That's why I'm marrying you."

"But I'm not those things," said Cordelia. "My version of you, did you think that he was handsome?"

"I suppose it didn't occur to me," said Aldwin. He looked to the ceiling again and considered that. "His hair was a bit curlier, and his nose somewhat broader, but no, I think he looked like me."

"The woman I saw was a goddess," said Cordelia. "I can't compare to her."

"You are her," said Aldwin.

"Won't you believe me when I tell you that I'm not?" asked Cordelia. "And if we follow through on the engagement, and you marry me, how can I help but worry that you'll figure that out one day and leave me?"

Aldwin frowned at her. "Is that what this is about?" he asked. "You think my love is fickle? It hadn't even occurred to me to ask my other whether he was wavering."

"I think you're brilliant and handsome," said Cordelia. "But I looked at her, spoke with her, and kept thinking to myself that I couldn't live up to her. I yelled at her and she calmly defused my anger. When I cried, she comforted me."

"It was really so bad?" asked Aldwin, raising his eyebrows. He had very expressive eyebrows, it was something that Cordelia had always found herself appreciating.

"I fear that you don't actually know me," said Cordelia. "You don't see the ugly, twisted, miserable creature that I am."

"Come now," said Aldwin. He seemed befuddled. "Perhaps I think more highly of you than you think of yourself, but I won't have you talking so poorly of my bride-to-be."

"It's how I felt, next to her," said Cordelia, looking down. She had tears in her eyes. It was undignified. Her other would have never.

Aldwin moved closer to her and tilted her chin up. She looked at him, blinking away her tears, which rolled down her face and made her lip salty. His eyes, that saw her so.

"My sweet, we have our entire lives to get to know each other better," said Aldwin. "I will love you no less if you falter, if you yell, if you cry, if you flop around and fail. If we do this again, ten years from now, I expect that I'll have the same rosy view of you, overly rosy, in your estimation. That's love. That's what it is."

But of course for her, that wasn't true at all. He'd said as much, he'd spoken to his other, he'd seen a more or less accurate portrayal of himself. Didn't he see that? Or would he realize it only later? She wasn't sure. Did she not love him? Is that what it meant? She thought that she loved him.

"I do love you," said Cordelia.

"Good, because we're getting married soon," said Aldwin. He patted her on the hand. "Come, let's dry those tears and find someplace to eat."

She let herself be led for the rest of the day, and returned to herself within half an hour, letting the shadow cast by the spell slide off her, joking with him, engaging him in his interests, putting on a smile that she didn't entirely feel.

But that night, as she lay in bed, the image of the goddess, the woman she was not and could not become, would not leave her mind.

[bea-does-stuff]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐡𝐬𝐫 𝐱 𝐲𝐧)

wordcount: 1042

characters: boothill, sunday, jing yuan, dan heng and dr ratio

yea so im back, sorry for the LONG hiatus, i lost a lot of passion for mha but i have tons of ideas now for other fandoms ^^ i have been VERY obssesed over genshin and hsr so expect more of those~

𝐃𝐑 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎

He is very much a man who values decency, so he'd never picture a setting where you two would share such an intimate act in the open

You know this, and you know it well, but part of you can't help but want to see the look in his refined crimson eyes, the look of pure shock hed have when you'd finally watch that smug Facade fade from his features

And since you were both together at a cafe, you decided it was now or never. He was peacefully reading his codex when you lifted his chin and pecked his lips with yours.

That being said, it didn't work the way you wanted it to

He looked at you almost a offended, and then with a serious expression, almost the same face as when he's scolding his students

“Is that some measly attempt to anger me?” He hissed, you sighed, lowering your head

“Sorry…” you muttered, he then turned back to his book flipping through his pages a bit more rough than usual, as a way of showing anger

It was only until you looked back at him to see the redness on his ears and cheeks, most of it being hidden by his fluffy hair

“idiot…” He mumbled under his breath, focusing more on his heartbeat than the pages of his ancient codex

𝐃𝐀�� 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆

Dan heng isn't too romantic to begin with, his love language is more lenient to acts if service or words of affection, but that doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate a hug or kiss every once in a while

You were both in the astral express, nothing too special, march 7th was in her room, went and himeko were talking, and you were seated next to Dan heng as he sorted out his notes from the data bank 

“Hey darling?” You muttered, he looked at you immediately, tilted his head as a way of showing he was paying attention to whatever you were about to say

However, to his surprise, you leaned in and pecked him softly on the lips

He was a little slow, it took him a solid 5 seconds to process what you did, but then he instantly picked up your hand softly

“Thanks….” He said, his cheeks lightly tinted red, it was always so silly seeing him thanking you for such silly things

“One more..?” You giggled, he looked down, embarrassed 

“Please….” He responded 

𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐔𝐀𝐍

He loves showing his affection for you in public, maybe it's seen as indecent for the general of the cloud knights to be seen showing such affection in a public setting, but he argues that his love for you should be celebrated, not hidden indoors like a secret

He'll let you sleep beside him while he does his paperwork or sit next to you during his meetings, whether it's holding your hands in public or giving you a hug whenever he gets the chance, he'll do it

One day he was working on more paperwork, trying his hardest not to fall asleep on the desk…..again…

It's always heartbreaking to see jing yuan so worn down from excessive work, but you've come to understand it's the way things are

You kissed him lightly when you saw his eyes closing 

“Don't fall asleep now” you smiled, he looked at you in surprise, some of the cloud knights staring at you two

He then let out a soft laugh “cheeky today, are we?” He ruffled your hair, before laying his head on your lap 

“Surely a 5 minute nap on these comfy thighs won't be a problem”

“GENERAL” fu xuan looked at him from across the room, pissed off “no slacking off!”

“I'm kidding, relax lady Fu” he sighed, lifting his head from your lap and getting back to his paperwork

“Sit on my lap, my sweet, you make a good chin rest” he pulled you to him

“And I want more of those when we get home, ok?”

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘

Maintaining a good image is a very, very, VERY important thing to Sunday, as one of the members of the family, he fears being seen with someone will bring unwanted attention to him and especially the family

Hes not exactly…embarrassed to be seen with you, everyone knows your his, he just prefers to keep affectionate actions in the comfort of the home you share

That doesn't stop you from getting fed up with his lack of romantic gestures, even in private, he was quite reserved

One day you had enough and kissed him while he was about to greet the new guests in penancony 

He stared at you in shock, you expected him to turn and apologize to the patrons, but he didn't take his eyes off you for a single moment

“Excuse us” he sighed, dragging you out by the hand

Before you could say anything, he kissed you again, placing his hands on your waist

“Warn me next time ok?” He said between kisses

The poor guy must have been holding back this whole time

𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋

His form of showing affection isn't…your average kind of affection, he doesn't really know how to be gentle so he shows his love by dragging you by the arm roughly and teaching you to shoot things

Although it makes sense upon further observation, since a solid 90 percent of him is metal and wired, he can't feel hugs or hand holding, not to mention he hasn't been gentle since he was a ‘human’

One day he took you to a bar, it was the clique tavern full of criminals and bounty hunters, it's not like his bounty would allow him to enter any other place

He was probably spouting off about something silly, when you decided to pull his by the collar and peck his lips

For the first time, he stopped everything he was doing, staring in utter shock, he suddenly slammed his head to the table, lowering his red face 

“Fudge…!” He whispered loudly.

You looked at him a little concerned “you ok? S-sorry i-” he suddenly stopped you “You…ya gotta do that more often..” he smiled with his sharp teeth “Do what? Kiss you…?” He nodded at your answer “Yea..and waaaay more darlin’...like…right now”

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° I fake a smile so he won't see

( reo mikage x gn! reader )

♡ a/n — for my new series :) doesn't really follow the song i based it on but i liked this one more

♡ content — reo mikage x gn! reader, gn! singer! reader, reader is a famous singer, failing relationship, established relationship, set in future (abt 5 ish years), reo and nagi are still playing soccer together, secret engagement

♡ synopsis — you were always there, cheering reo mikage on in the stands, your voice hoarse from screaming. But when it came to your career, your moments, he was nowhere to be found.

The roar of the crowd should’ve been enough.

The stadium was packed, each seat occupied by someone who came to see you. Thousands of faces lit up in awe, screaming your name as the lights dimmed. But as you stood there, gripping the mic, scanning the audience, all you saw was the empty space in the VIP tent.

It wasn’t just any empty space. It was his.

Reo.

You’d begged him to come. Tonight wasn’t just another stop on the tour—it was the biggest show of your career, the kind of milestone you’d spent years chasing. And you had flown straight here from his championship game, fighting jet lag just to scream his name in the stands like you always did.

But when it was your turn to be supported, he chose a night in with Nagi instead.

“We’re just going to relax after the match,” he’d said casually, brushing his fingers through his hair, his voice so nonchalant it had almost sounded reasonable. “You don’t need me there—you’ve got this, babe.”

You’d smiled back then, swallowing your disappointment like it was nothing.

Like You always did.

The music started, and you slipped into the first song, pouring everything into each note.

Your fans didn’t know what the lyrics truly meant. They thought the sadness woven into your voice was just part of your art, a poetic expression of heartbreak. They didn’t know it was real.

As you sang, your gaze flickered to the empty space again. It felt like a metaphor, a glaring reminder of all the ways you’d been holding on to something that wasn’t holding you back.

Reo loved you. You didn’t doubt that. But his love was… passive. Convenient.

He loved you the way someone loved a lucky charm, something they carried without thought, assuming it would always be there.

You gave him everything.

Every song, every lyric, every late-night plane ride to his games—you were always there, cheering him on in the stands, your voice hoarse from screaming. But when it came to your career, your moments, he was nowhere to be found.

Even the songs on your latest album were about him. The moments he missed. The apologies he didn’t know you deserved.

When he listened to it, he’d smiled and said, “This is going to be your best one yet.”

He didn’t realize the songs were about him.

By the time you hit the final chorus of your last song, tears threatened to spill.

You weren’t even sure why they were there. Frustration? Sadness? Exhaustion? Maybe it was all of it. Maybe it was the way you were finally starting to see what you hadn’t wanted to admit for so long.

This relationship wasn’t what you thought it was.

You thought you were building something—a life, a future. But it was always one-sided. You were always the one showing up, always the one trying, always the one compromising. Reo… he just took it all for granted.

Backstage, the cheers from the crowd felt muted as you stepped into the dressing room.

Your team was buzzing, congratulating you, telling you how amazing you’d been. But it didn’t feel amazing. It felt hollow.

Your phone buzzed on the counter. A text from Reo.

My man ❤️: You were amazing tonight, babe. Nagi and I were watching clips during dinner. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. Love you.

You stared at the message, the words sinking like stones in your chest.

This was him. Sweet, but distant. Supportive, but absent. Loving, but… not enough.

Your reflection stared back at you in the mirror, tired and worn down.

You reached for the necklace you always wore, fingers brushing against the engagement ring tucked beneath your shirt. It was supposed to be a symbol of your future together, something you’d kept secret because the world wasn’t ready to know yet.

But now, it felt like a weight.

Reo loved himself, his lifestyle, hell his best friend more than he loved you. And maybe that wasn’t entirely his fault. He wasn’t cruel or malicious. He just… didn’t see you the way you saw him.

And that wasn’t enough anymore.

With trembling hands, you unclasped the necklace, sliding the ring off the chain. It gleamed in the dim light, a promise you’d made to yourself that now felt broken.

You placed it in the drawer of the vanity, taking a deep breath as you straightened up. Tonight, you gave the performance of your life. And tomorrow, you’d wake up and start making decisions for yourself, not for him.

You weren’t going to keep singing about heartbreak. You were going to do something about it.

As you walked out of the dressing room, the cheers from the concert still faintly audible, you left behind more than the stage. You left behind the version of yourself that kept waiting for someone who would never show up.

For good this time.

so unfortunately, idk if you'll ever get a happy reo fic out of me

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[guiltyc0nscience]

⋆˙⟡ i hope ur miserable until ur dead, chris sturniolo

exboyfriend!chris x fem!reader

synopsis. in which you walk away from chris after realising he’s run out of chances to break your heart.

warnings. toxic relationship, manipulation, angst, self-worth, heartbreak, mentions of cheating.

word count. 1k.

authors note. divider by @bernardsbendystraws

you didn’t remember the exact moment things with chris turned sour. maybe it was gradual, like a slow rot. or maybe it was all at once, like a knife to the chest. but here you were, sitting on the bathroom floor of your apartment, surrounded by the wreckage of what used to be. a hoodie that still smelled like him lay discarded near the shower. his voice echoed in your head—louder now that he wasn’t around.

and god, you hated him for it.

chris had this way of making you feel like the only person in the room. his smile could light up a thousand cities, but it also hid a darkness you were too naïve to see. he loved bombarding you with sweetness when it suited him, but the second you needed something real, he vanished. he knew just how to break you—and he did. over, and over, and over.

the first time he cheated, he called it a “mistake.” the second time, he swore it wasn’t what it looked like. the third time, he didn’t even bother to explain.

you tried to leave. you did leave. but every time, he came back, full of apologies and empty promises. he’d shown up at your door with red-rimmed eyes, clutching the stupid flowers he knew you loved. you were his favourite puppet, and he pulled your strings so expertly that didn’t even realise you were being controlled.

but this time was different. this time, you were done.

you clenched your fists so hard your nails dug into your palms. that night replayed in your mind like a cruel loop. it was a party, one you hadn’t even wanted to go to. he told you, he’d behave, that he’d be different this time. yet, you found him in the back room, lips locked with someone else. her laugh still haunted you. the way she smirked like you were the joke, made your blood boil. and him? he didn’t even bother chasing after you. he just stood there, letting you walk away.

it had been two months since that night. two months of silence. two months of fighting every urge to check his instagram or answer his late-night texts. the texts where he’d say he missed you, that he still loved you. but love wasn’t supposed to feel like this, was it? love wasn’t supposed to feel like drowning.

chris wasn’t faring much better. he liked to pretend he was fine—laughing with his brothers, posting dumb tiktoks, keeping up appearances. but the second he was alone, the weight of it hit him. he knew he messed up. he always messed up. and for once, he wasn’t sure how to fix it.

it wasn’t supposed to be like this. he wasn’t supposed to care this much. he was chris, the guy who didn’t do commitment, the guy who didn’t get attached. but with you? he was different. you made him feel things he didn’t want to feel. vulnerable. seen. and that scared the hell out of him.

that’s why he pushed you away. that’s why he let himself ruin everything. because if he didn’t, you’d see him for who he really was—a mess of a person who didn’t deserve someone like you.

but now that you were gone, the silence was unbearable. he hated it. hated how you weren’t blowing up his phone anymore, demanding answers. hated how you were out there, living your life without him. he thought about calling, about apologizing. but he knew it wouldn’t be enough. it was never enough.

one night, he finally cracked. he showed up at your door, the same stupid flowers in hand. but this time, when you opened it, your expression wasn’t soft or forgiving. it was cold.

“what do you want, chris?” you asked, your voice flat.

“i just—i wanted to talk. please, y/n. just hear me out.”

you crossed your arms, leaning against the doorframe. “talk, then.”

he faltered, his rehearsed speech crumbling under your glare. “i’m sorry. for everything. i know i don’t deserve another chance, but—”

“you’re right,” you cut him off. “you don’t.”

his eyes widened, taken aback by your tone. “y/n, please—”

“no, chris. you don’t get to do this. you don’t get to waltz back into my life and expect me to forgive you. not after everything you’ve done.”

“i love you,” he blurted out, desperation dripping from his words.

you laughed—a bitter, hollow sound. “you don’t love me, chris. you love the idea of me. you love knowing i’ll be here to pick up the pieces every time you shatter them. but guess what? not anymore.”

you stepped back, ready to close the door, but he stopped you. his hand pressed against the wood, his eyes pleading. “y/n, i need you.”

“you need me?” you repeated, your voice rising. “you need me like you needed her? like you needed all those other girls?”

he flinched like you’d slapped him, but you didn’t care. for once, you didn’t care about sparing his feelings.

“you don’t get to need me, chris. you don’t get to want me now that i’m finally putting myself back together. so go, chris. i don’t want to see you ever again.

and with that, you slammed the door in his face, your chest heaving. you slid to the floor, tears streaming down your face. but for the first time in a long time, they weren’t tears of defeat. they were tears of release.

chris stood there for what felt like forever, the weight of your words sinking in. he wanted to hate you for them, but he couldn’t. because you were right. he deserved it—all of it. and as he walked away, the reality of his loneliness hit him like a freight train.

he didn’t know if he’d ever recover from this, but one thing was certain; he would never find anyone like you again.

and that was his punishment.

[cece693]

Painted Devotion

pairing: the joker x male reader tags: male reader is a hero, joker is infatuated with you, no joker used in mind, the thought is there

The moment the SWAT team hauls him away, you think this is finally over—until you hear that cackling laugh echo through the paddy wagon window.

A few days pass. You immerse yourself in your usual hero duties—cleaning up small-time heists, taking down petty thugs. But it doesn’t escape your notice that you almost miss the Joker’s particular brand of chaos. There was something in his eyes that day, a wild, obsessive affection that went beyond the typical villain-hero dynamic.

You’re patrolling a dingy back alley near the Bowery when it happens again. A security guard from the Gotham Museum of Contemporary Art is doubled over, reeling from a sudden gas attack. The faint green haze around him makes your stomach churn; you’d know that Joker toxin anywhere. Instantly, your heart pounds. He’s out. He’s free. Or worse—this is part of his elaborate scheme to bait you again.

You slip into the museum through a shattered stained-glass window. The corridors are dim, silent except for your footsteps. Then you see it: a large neon sign mounted on the marble statue of the museum’s founder. The sign reads: “You hardly come to see me. So I brought my exhibit to YOU!” in swirling, chaotic letters. Around the base of the statue are clown-faced mannequins, each posing with various “Joker merchandise”—fake bombs, painted roses, over-sized playing cards.

A voice croons from above: “Hero? Heeeero, come out, come out, wherever you are…”

The Joker drops down from a second-floor balcony, landing with a theatrical flourish. He’s practically bouncing on his toes, as though he’s been waiting for this moment all night.

“Oh, I knew you’d show,” he says, a desperate glee flickering across his painted face. “After all, you always do. But you sure are taking your sweet time.” He adjusts his lapels, letting out a comically offended huff.

You glance around, searching for hostages or bombs. But surprisingly, you see none. Just the Joker, grinning from ear to ear, his eyes crinkled in a mix of frustration and delight.

He points a gloved finger at you, wagging it like a scolding parent. “I heard you had a run-in with…oh, what’s-his-name…Candlefly? Firefly? Some lesser insect who tried to torch a warehouse? He barely even had to set a building ablaze, and poof, you came running! Meanwhile, your dear Joker?” He clutches his heart, feigning heartbreak. “I have to pull the entire Gotham Philharmonic into a fish tank, or blow up half the Arkham library just to get you to glance my way!”

Stepping closer, you notice he’s trembling, excitement layered with genuine distress. It’s disturbing how you can practically feel his longing crackling in the air.

“Haven’t you been getting my letters?” he whines. “I’ve poured out my heart on stationery that cost a fortune! And that last ‘little gift’… you didn’t even thank me.” He pouts, lip jutting out like a petulant child. “Don’t you know how to accept a token of affection, or do I need to teach you some manners?”

Your brows furrow, keeping your guard up. “This isn’t how you show affe—”

He cuts you off with a playful stomp, then does an overdramatic twirl. “Oh, don’t you lecture me on love, hero! I try so hard. You ignore me, but you still find time for these losers instead of your dear Joker!” He narrows his eyes, voice wavering between mania and heartbreak. “It’s humiliating, you know.”

Despite the dangerous situation, you feel a twinge of pity. His feelings—warped though they are—seem undeniably genuine.

You stand your ground, trying to quell the swirl of sympathy. “Joker, people are getting hurt because of these stunts. Whatever…feelings you have, it doesn’t justify—”

“Feelings?” His manic grin twists into a desperate smile. “Oh, I have more than feelings, dear. I’m infatuated. Smitten. I want to see that lovely expression of shock on your face whenever I pop into your life. Isn’t that romantic?” He sighs dreamily, then cocks his head. “Don’t you like being wanted?”

Your jaw tightens. You can’t let him get under your skin. Instead, you try to see if he’s rigged the museum with explosives; it’d be typical Joker. You subtly shift your gaze, looking for signs.

He notices immediately. “Looking for bombs, are we?” he snickers. “No bombs this time. No guns. Just me.” A faltering grin paints his face. “I wanted to talk. Really talk. Because if I have to blow up another building to get your attention, well…” He shrugs, glancing away with an exaggerated wave of his hand. “I will, but I’d prefer not to. I want you all to myself, without those distractions.”

He slinks forward until there’s scarcely a foot between you. His gloved hand stretches out, almost daring to brush your chest.

“Is it really so hard to drop by Arkham for a chat? Maybe we could schedule a…date.” He laughs, though there’s desperation woven into his tone. “But no, you’re too busy chasing every nobody in Gotham. I suppose I’m just…unremarkable to you.”

He pouts again—really hamming it up—his voice taking on a whiny edge. “You don’t love me. You only show up out of obligation. It’s not fair.” You swallow hard. The tension is suffocating, a bizarre blend of comedic theatrics and real heartbreak. You have no illusions about his capacity for violence, but that undercurrent of raw longing is shaking your resolve.

“You can’t keep doing this,” you finally manage. “People are scared, Joker. They’re terrified. And you’re not giving me a choice but to respond.”

He giggles, shoulders bouncing. “Precisely! That’s the point, my dashing do-gooder! If the only way to see that handsome face of yours is to threaten the entire city, then so be it. I’ll do whatever it takes, because I— I— oh, you’ll laugh at me if I say it.”

He claps a hand over his face, peeking at you through splayed fingers. The sight would be comical if it weren’t so chilling. You stand there, arms tense at your sides, waiting for the next shoe to drop.

A moment later, he sighs heavily, dropping his hand. “But I have to say it: I love you, you stubborn, noble idiot! There! Now it’s out, for heaven’s sake. Laugh, scream, do what you want.” He throws his arms up, voice cracking with frustration. “But don’t you dare run off to fight some C-lister while I’m locked away again. I won’t stand for it, do you hear me? I won’t stand for it!”

As if on cue, the sirens outside begin wailing, bright red and blue lights swirling through the museum windows. The GCPD. They’ve arrived, no doubt alerted to the disturbance. Joker glances at the lights, then back at you, his expression torn between amusement and disappointment.

He exhales a broken laugh, lifting his hands in a theatrical surrender. “I guess our rendezvous is over.” He twists around, letting the cops see him, raising his arms as they enter. But even as the officers draw near, weapons trained, his attention remains locked on you.

Your mind spins with everything unsaid, everything you never dreamed you’d hear from the Clown Prince of Crime. He meets your gaze once more, a faint scowl on his lips.

“Next time,” he murmurs, “maybe you’ll come of your own accord.” He tilts his head, his voice turning whiny again. “Because I’m so sick of having to go through all. This. Trouble.”

The cops close in, cuffing his outstretched hands. Joker doesn’t protest; he simply grins—a delirious mixture of sadness and triumph. As they pull him away, he lets out a manic giggle, calling over his shoulder:

“I’ll be waiting, my sweet hero. I’ll keep sending gifts— and next time, you won’t ignore me, will you?”

The museum falls silent, the Joker’s cackle fading into the background as he’s led outside. Part of you is relieved it’s over. Another part knows it won’t ever truly be over—because for the Joker, you’re not just a heroic rival. You’re an obsession, a twisted muse, the one he can’t bear to be without… even if he has to destroy Gotham to make you come running.

[greengoblinswifey]

Betrayed By Blood—Nicholas Chavez x Fiancée!Reader

summary— you think you’re getting married to the love of your life but it all comes crashing down when you discover at your engagement party that nicholas has been cheating on you with your older sister. based on this request.

warnings— angst, cheating, heartbreak, betrayal.

a/n— i am such a slut for angst, keep it comin!

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

You had always been the kind of person who believed in love wholeheartedly. When Nicholas entered your life three years ago, you couldn’t believe your luck. He was everything you’d ever wanted, kind, successful acting career, charming, and so ridiculously in love with you that it almost felt unreal. You were the envy of your friends, your family—hell, even your own self at times. He made you feel like you could do anything, be anyone. He was your best friend, your lover, your everything.

But what made it even more special was how seamlessly he fit into your world. The way he would light up when your family talked about their traditions, his willingness to learn about your culture, how your older sister, despite the years of distance between you two—had begun to bond with him. It was all so perfect. Nicholas had even made a point of getting close to your older sister, knowing how much she meant to you, even if it made you feel a twinge of discomfort sometimes. You were still getting used to the closeness between them, but it didn’t bother you much. She was just looking out for you, making sure the man you were about to marry was really the one.

Your sister was always a bit more distant from you. You’d never had the kind of bond that some people shared with their siblings—she was a few years older, more independent, and you’d always felt that divide. But when Nicholas came into the picture, something shifted. She started coming around more. She started asking about your relationship, checking in on how things were going. You even started enjoying the time she spent with him, seeing how happy he made you. Nicholas always appreciated your family and their cultural traditions, always joking around with your uncles about how they would “teach him the ropes” on making your culture’s food. They’d all gathered around him, with your uncles and cousins giving him their best cooking tips, even asking him to come to every cookout. It made you laugh how easily he fit in. It was exactly what you had always dreamed of—a man who loved you and respected your family’s values.

The engagement had come a little earlier than expected, but when he proposed to you, you couldn’t say no. You had been telling Nicholas for months that you didn’t want to wait forever. You wanted a future, you wanted a family, and most importantly, you wanted him. He had been apprehensive at first about rushing into things, but soon, he was on board. Your family was thrilled, your uncles teased him, and your mom cried with joy. Your sister, though not exactly the most emotionally expressive person, seemed genuinely happy for you both.

The engagement party was the culmination of everything, a massive celebration of your love. It was your moment, your chance to show everyone what Nicholas meant to you. And you couldn’t wait.

The night started off perfectly. Nicholas, looking dashing in his black suit, was by your side, his hand in yours as you made your rounds. Your sister, radiant as always, stood nearby, laughing with your family, as everyone celebrated the two of you. You danced with Nicholas, his lips brushing your neck as he whispered sweet things into your ear. You felt safe in his arms, protected. His smile was everything, and in that moment, you truly believed your life was everything you had ever wanted.

Your uncles, rowdy as usual, crowded around Nicholas, teasing him about being a part of their “cookout crew” now. They joked about his need to learn how to make your cultural dishes, like he’d be joining them for the next family cookout. You loved it. It felt like the piece of the puzzle you’d been waiting for your whole life, a family who accepted him, and him, genuinely embracing them.

But then, as the night progressed, you began to notice things. Little things. The way your sister kept laughing a little too loudly at Nicholas’ jokes. The way her hand lingered on his chest a bit too long when she made a joke, just a touch too intimate for your liking. You tried to shake it off, blaming it on the alcohol, on the festive mood. Your sister had always been affectionate with the people she liked, but something about the way she looked at him made your stomach turn.

It wasn’t even the physical closeness. It was the way she looked at him, like she was seeing him in a way you hadn’t seen before. You shrugged it off at first. He was your fiancé, after all. You shouldn’t be feeling jealous. She was your sister, and you wanted her to like him, to approve of him. This was nothing. Just a moment of insecurity.

But when Nicholas disappeared to the bathroom, you couldn’t shake the feeling. Half an hour had passed, and he still hadn’t come back. Your sister had gone missing too. They were both nowhere to be found, and a quiet alarm began to ring in the back of your mind.

You finally decided to check on them. You climbed the stairs, heels clicking against the floor. The music from downstairs muffled everything around you, and as you walked down the hallway, your heart beat faster with every step.

You remembered he’d said he was going to the bathroom. The upstairs bathroom door was slightly ajar, a thin line of light spilling out. You pushed the door open and peeked inside.

What you saw made your blood run cold.

Nicholas, your fiancé, was kissing your older sister with a passion that made your stomach drop. His hands were tangled in her curls, gripping it as if he couldn’t get enough of her. Her hands were all over his chest, moving to grip his bulge, and the way they kissed each other was everything you hadn’t seen from him in your three years together. There was nothing tender about it, nothing sweet. Just raw, ferocious hunger. He had her pressed against the counter, and they were so caught up in each other that they didn’t even hear you.

You froze, every ounce of warmth drained from your body. You couldn’t breathe. Your mind refused to accept what your eyes were seeing.

And then, your sister’s voice, breathless, echoed in the room.

“Take me right here,” she purred.

Nicholas smirked against her lips. “Later tonight,” he murmured, voice thick with desire. “Tonight, I’ll give you this dick and everything you want.”

Your sister laughed, a sound you would never forget. “She’s so stupid,” she said, hands trailing down his chest. “Thinking you actually chose her.”

And Nicholas, your fiancé, laughed. He laughed.

The sound was like a knife to your heart.

You couldn’t watch anymore. You turned and stumbled away from the door, the world around you spinning. Your legs felt weak, your heart pounding in your ears. You had to get away. You had to get out of there.

You made your way back down the stairs, your brown skin feeling somehow drained of color, your chest tight with the weight of everything crashing down.

You sat on the couch, numb, staring into the distance as the laughter and chatter of the party continued around you. Everyone was so oblivious. How could they be so blind?

You didn’t know how long you sat there, staring at the empty glass in your hand, feeling the bile of betrayal and heartbreak rise in your throat. But the truth was clear now. The person you had trusted most in this world, the man you thought would be yours forever, had betrayed you. And your sister, the one person who was supposed to have your back, had been the one to help him destroy everything.

Everything was fucking over.

The world felt like it was closing in on you. You stood in the corner of your sister's yard, away from the noise and the chaos of the party, trying to breathe in the cool night air, but it didn’t help. It was all too much. Your thoughts raced as your mom, drunk on Hennessy, slipped out the door to check on you.

“Are you okay, baby? You don’t look so good,” she slurred, her words barely hanging together.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Mom. Just a little too much to drink,” you said quickly, offering her a smile, though it felt like your face was frozen. You didn’t want her to see the turmoil churning inside you. You didn’t want anyone to see the cracks in the perfect picture you had spent so long trying to paint.

She frowned slightly, swaying on her feet as she stared at you with unsteady eyes. “You sure? You seem so off. Maybe lay off the Henny, huh?”

You laughed weakly, swallowing the bitter taste of your own anger. “Yeah, Mom, I’m good but maybe you should too, Just need some air. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

She nodded, barely convincing herself, before she staggered back inside. You could still hear her slurring through the door. “You’ve got such a good man, don’t forget that,” she called over her shoulder, her voice drifting on the warm night breeze.

“I know, I thought so too,” you said under your breath.

But now, everything had shattered. You stood in the cold, looking out at the darkened street, your thoughts spiraling into a whirlwind of doubt. Maybe she’s right, you thought. Maybe I was stupid. So stupid for not seeing it earlier.

The signs had always been there, hadn’t they? The way Nicholas and your sister would hang out without you, their bodies too close, the long hugs that lasted a bit too long. The way his hands would graze her shoulder or her back, like it was something casual—like it didn’t mean anything. But you had been so blinded by wanting to prove to yourself, to your family, that Nicholas was the one. That he loved you. And that your sister, the one person who you thought would always have your back, would approve.

You had wanted her approval so badly.

The signs were obvious, though. The way he would always find a reason to make her laugh, to make her feel special. He’d tell her jokes only she seemed to find funny, or the way he’d always help her with things around the house when he was at your family gatherings. The way he would stare at her ass when she’d walk away from the table, thinking you didn’t see it. The small, subtle touches, how he always found a reason to touch her arm or her back. It had been happening all along, and yet, you had made excuses. They’re just close, they’re family.

But it wasn’t just that. It was the way they’d look at each other. It was the way they had always made quick excuses to disappear for a few moments, always sneaking off together, but you had never thought much of it. Just friends, you had told yourself. But now, standing in the dark, it hit you like a ton of bricks.

They had been sneaking around behind your back for so long, and you had been too blind to see it. How could you have been so stupid?

You suddenly felt dizzy, as if the weight of it all had just crashed down on you all at once. You knew you couldn’t stay out there much longer. You had to get away, had to leave. You couldn’t stand to see their faces, couldn’t stand to pretend that everything was okay.

Before you could even collect your thoughts, you felt a presence behind you.

“What are you doing out here, mama?” Nicholas’ voice cut through the silence. It was warm, too warm, and it made your skin crawl. You didn’t turn to face him. You didn’t want to.

“I just needed some air,” you lied, trying to sound casual. You didn’t trust your voice. “The alcohol’s got me feeling all weird.”

He stepped closer, as if concerned, his hand coming up to touch your arm. “Well, let’s get you back inside. What’s wrong?”

You winced, flinching instinctively as he tried to kiss your cheek. You jerked away from him. “I’m not feeling too great, honestly,” you muttered, your voice breaking just enough to make him pause.

Nicholas laughed lightly. “It’s just the booze, babe. You know how it gets you all—worked up. Hope you’re not getting cold feet now,” he added, his tone teasing, but his eyes scanning your face too closely. “You know I love you, right?”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You fought the urge to lash out, to scream at him, a bitter laugh. You love me? Sure, you do.

You managed a tight smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes, and you nodded, playing the part. “I know, Nicholas. I know,” you said through gritted teeth.

You’re full of shit.

You both made your way back inside, where the party was still in full swing. Your mom was laughing with your uncles, and your sister, who seemed to have too much to drink. She was swaying a little too much, her lipstick smudged, her hair a little messier than usual.

You couldn’t help but stare at her. How could she? How could she betray you like this? The woman who had held you as a baby, the woman who was supposed to protect you, be your big sister—your own flesh and blood.

She walked up to you with that sickly sweet smile, her hand on your arm, as if nothing was wrong. “You guys should stay over tonight. You're both too drunk to drive,” she said, her voice syrupy, but you could hear the underlying smugness.

You forced a smile, but it was more of a sneer. You didn’t want to look at her, didn’t want to be in the same room. “Thanks, but I think we’re going to head out,” you said, your voice cold and distant.

“Are you sure? Also, you look beautiful tonight,” she said, a little too loud, her eyes flicking to Nicholas. “You’re so lucky to have him.” She smiled at him, that smile that made you want to throw up.

You could barely stand it. “Yeah, I’m lucky,” you muttered. “But we should get going.”

Your sister didn’t argue. Instead, she waved it off, telling Nicholas that he should clean up with her, but you cut her off sharply. “No, she said she’d clean up, so Nicholas just come to bed since she wants us to stay so bad,” you said to him, your voice firm. He didn’t question it, but you could see the brief flash of surprise in his eyes.

They both paused. Shocked that you’re not letting them play their little game anymore.

He nodded reluctantly, muttering something under his breath, and followed you upstairs.

Once in the room, you started to get ready for bed. Nicholas sat on the edge of the bed, telling you how much he loved your family and how he couldn’t wait to be a part of it all. You wanted to scream at him, tell him that he was already part of it—in the worst way possible.

As you climbed into bed, you turned to face away from him, feeling the warmth of his body beside you, knowing how wrong it all was. He pressed kisses along your back, but you flinched with every touch, every word he whispered. You knew exactly what he was doing. He was trying to lull you to sleep so he could slip away.

You pretended to fall asleep, lying still as he shifted beside you. He waited a few minutes before slowly nudging you off of him, making sure you were still “asleep” before getting out of bed. You kept your eyes closed, though your heart was pounding in your chest. You heard the sound of him leaving the room.

The tears started to come then. One single tear fell from your eye, and that was it. He was really going to do it. He was going to go fuck your sister, and you knew it wasn’t the first time.

The tears didn’t stop as you cried yourself to sleep. You didn’t know when he came back to bed, but by then, you didn’t care.

The next morning, the air was thick with tension. Nicholas, ever the actor, was trying to act like nothing was wrong, all smiles and charm, but you couldn’t look at him. Not after everything.

“You okay?” he asked, trying to make conversation on the car ride home. His hand rested on your thigh, cold, stiff. Not warm like it used to be.

You didn’t answer. You just stared out the window, trying to keep yourself together.

When you got home, you walked straight to the bedroom without a word. He followed behind, still trying to act normal, trying to act like he hadn’t just betrayed you in the worst way possible.

You turned to him, your voice hard, cold. “How long?”

He looked at you, confused. “How long what?”

“How long have you been fucking my sister?” you spat. His face went white.

He started rambling, trying to justify it, trying to come up with excuses, but you stopped him cold. You looked him dead in the eyes, your voice low but sharp enough to pierce through his fumbling excuses. “Cut the bullshit, Nicholas. How long have you been fucking my sister?”

His face drained of color, and for a split second, you saw panic flicker in his eyes. But then he straightened up, his mouth opening and closing, struggling to form words. He tried to spin some story, but it was all nonsense, just meaningless rambling that you couldn’t stomach.

“I— I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he stammered. “I’m sorry, baby, I—”

You cut him off, disgust twisting your insides. “Fuck you. You’re not sorry. You’re only sorry you got caught.”

His face fell. He opened his mouth again, but you weren’t listening anymore. You pulled the ring from your finger and tossed it at him with all the force you could muster. The diamond caught the light before it clattered to the floor, a symbol of everything that had ended between the two of you.

“Don’t. Don’t even try to fix this,” you spat, your voice cold, firm. “I’m done. Get the fuck out. I don’t want to see your face again.”

He took a step back, his eyes wide with panic, a mix of guilt and anger on his face. He pleaded with you, but you didn’t hear him. You didn’t want to hear him. You could barely look at him.

“I can’t believe you did this,” you whispered, the betrayal so thick in your chest it was suffocating. “I trusted you. And I trusted her.” You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “I never want to see either of you again.”

Nicholas looked like he was going to say something more, but he didn’t. His face was a mess of guilt, frustration, and desperation as he turned on his heel, heading for the door.

When the door slammed behind him, it felt like the last thing holding you together had fallen apart. The silence that followed felt deafening, and as soon as you heard the sound of his car pull away from the driveway, the floodgates opened.

You had never felt so broken in your life.

You didn’t wait for long before pulling out your phone and dialing your sister’s number. It rang a few times before she picked up, her voice so sweet, like everything was fine. Like nothing had changed.

“Hey sis! What’s up?” she said, her tone light.

You didn't waste time with pleasantries. “Fuck you bitch,” you snapped, your voice filled with venom. “Two-faced whore. I never want to see you again.”

There was silence on the other end. You could almost hear her gasp, her breath catching as she processed the words. But you didn’t give her a chance to respond.

“Stay the hell out of my life. I never want to hear from you again. Ever,” you added, your voice colder than ice.

You didn’t even wait for her to respond before you hung up. You couldn’t bring yourself to hear her lies. The texts and calls came flooding in immediately, frantic apologies, explanations that you knew were all just bullshit. You didn’t care.

You blocked her number without a second thought.

The betrayal was suffocating, and you couldn’t stop shaking. You wanted to scream. You wanted to burn it all down. But instead, you curled into yourself on the bed, every part of you hollow. You couldn’t even bring yourself to cry at first. The tears wouldn’t come, not until the numbness wore off, and then they came in a flood, unstoppable, overwhelming.

Your heart felt like it was ripped in two. Betrayed. By the man who had promised to love you forever. By the sister who had held you when you were small, the one person who had always been your protector. Now she was just another person who had turned her back on you.

You lay there, letting the tears fall until there were no more to shed. And when it was over, there was nothing left but silence and a cold, gnawing emptiness.

The next few days passed in a haze. You didn’t leave your room, didn’t talk to anyone. You didn’t want to. You couldn’t.

When you finally found the strength to move, to get out of bed and go through the motions, everything felt like a shadow of what it used to be. Your heart was still broken, but the anger was sharper now. You were angry at them both. Angry at yourself for not seeing it sooner. Angry at your family for not being who you thought they were.

But most of all, you were angry because you knew deep down that you would never trust anyone the same way again. How could you?

The world felt different now—like it had shifted, and you were no longer sure where you stood.

But in that anger, there was clarity. You were done with Nicholas. You were done with her. You didn’t need them. You would be okay. Maybe not right now, maybe not in the next few months, but eventually, you would find peace.

And you’d never let anyone—anyone, take that away from you again.

The betrayal was deep, but so was your strength.

You weren’t going to let them destroy you.

[sunvmars]

bitter sweet | s.r.

pairing: steve rogers x fem/afab reader

next ↠

word count: 2.8k

warnings: obv swearing, pregnancy/pregnant reader, some angst that's mainly reader trying to cover up hidden emotions

summary: you've grown to resent steve after a breakup and give him the cold shoulder for weeks. you soon discover you're pregnant and show back up on his doorstep to tell him the news.

a/n: definitely turning this into a series if it gains enough traction!

It was a warm summer evening like any other when Steve had asked you to come straight home after work, insisting he had something important to talk about. You had entered your shared apartment with expectations of a nice dinner or a movie night. Considering Steve was always one for suspension, surprise plans and at-home date nights weren't unusual.

You set your purse down on the table by the front door before sinking into your favorite recliner. The setting sun cast a glow amongst the living room that you greatly appreciated, although it was a glow that was far too beautiful to be wasted on that night.

"Steve! I'm home!"

Only a few seconds after you'd called out had he come, practically, running. He came to sit on the couch, only a few feet away, his expression conflicted.

"I missed you today," you said.

You beamed at your fiancé, simply happy to see him after another shitty work day. While you were an Avenger, you stuck to mainly office work when you had no missions.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, "Y/n, honey, I think we need to talk."

Your heart sank, and a lump formed in your throat. You knew Steve like the back of your hand, and every time he has said the words "we need to talk," it's never been good.

"Is Buck sneaking over to eat all of our sweets again? I thought you talked to him about that," you joked in an attempt to lighten the tension.

"Funnily enough, no, he hasn't done that in a few days."

"Well, don't jinx it."

He chuckled briefly. His hands ran over his face as he sighed, and his broad shoulders relaxed.

"I've been thinking- a lot," he began, avoiding your gaze. "Baby, you know I love you, right?"

You hummed, giving him a nod that allowed him to continue.

"I love you, but..."

As soon as you had heard the "but," you tuned out. Whether it was by choice, or whether your mind and heart already knew what he was going to say and were just saving you the extra heartbreak, you weren't sure. You did, however, catch the last part of it. And luckily, the last part was all you needed to hear from him.

"I can't allow this to continue. I'm no good for you, y/n. I can't be the man you need or deserve right now. It's not fair to keep you waiting while I'm still trying to figure out what I want."

Your brows furrowed as your body started becoming tense. "What...?" you muttered.

It was less of a question and more of you thinking aloud, vocalizing your confusion. Unless you were a completely oblivious idiot, things between the two of you were fine yesterday, and every day before that for the last two years. He sighed, finally meeting your gaze. His eyes were filled with regret that you somehow missed.

"I... I can't take the risk anymore. I need to focus on my responsibilities and protecting the world. It's just... I can't let my personal life get in the way of my promise to the world."

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you quickly wiped them away before they could fall. You had the same job, so how could the man who had proposed only a few months ago just now, after two years, decide he couldn't make this work because of his job? Either way, that man didn't deserve your tears, so you wouldn't waste them on him. You stood quickly, not bothering to look back at him as you made your way towards the door.

"Y/n? Where are you going? Please say something, baby-"

"Don't! You don't get to call me that anymore," you snapped, finally allowing yourself to show some sort of emotion. "Just...stop. There's nothing else to say."

His eyes widened a little at your sudden outburst. You picked up your purse and keys hastily. Your fingers fidgeted with the keys for a moment, then you started sliding your house key off your keychain. It was then that you decided to speak again before he got the chance to, not caring to hear another word from him.

"I'll have someone come get my stuff tomorrow; do whatever you want with the apartment, as long as you don't have to contact me to do it."

"Y/n," he spoke with softened, glossy eyes, "please, just stay until you find somewhere else to go. This is your home too, I-"

"There's too much of you, well, what used to be us, here," you stated plainly as you placed your key on the table. "Where I go isn't your problem anymore anyway."

A sigh escaped your lips as you slung your purse over your shoulder. You turned to face him one last time as you stood in the doorway.

"Oh, and one more thing," you say, "You are a fucking coward, Steven Grant Rogers."

The door slammed behind you. And what you'd left behind was a deeply regretful, and utterly stupid, Steve sitting alone on the couch in the apartment you once shared.

That was almost two months ago, and your heart had not allowed you to heal at all. As if seeing Steve in passing at work wasn't painful enough, now you had an important mission coming up tomorrow, and being chosen to go with him was inevitable. Or at least you thought it was inevitable. It had all started earlier in the morning with a rotten egg- an actual rotten egg, that is.

You were baking cookies for Bucky, fully aware of how much he'd miss your baked goods for the next week or two you would be gone. Over the time that you and Steve had dated and been engaged, you'd gotten pretty close with the brunette. He was equally supportive of both of you during the breakup. Though he did lay into Steve for leaving you. Bucky knew there was more to it than his job; both of you had the same job for Christ's sake, but he didn't push his friend for answers—at least not yet.

With one gentle motion, you cracked the egg on the side of your metal bowl. However, this egg had a smell to it. You brought it closer to your face to observe and smell it. What a horrible mistake, though, because as soon as you inhaled the sickening, sulfur-like scent, it made your stomach turn. But instead of going back to normal, you gagged. The scent was lingering longer than any other scent you'd ever smelled, almost as if you were permanently damned to having the smell stuck in your nostrils.

Then the hot stomach acid started coming up, and it was coming fast, signaling you needed a trashcan now. You bolted towards the nearest bathroom, preferring to take a chance on making a mess in a hallway rather than the kitchen. You passed Steve and Bucky on your way there, both men stopping dead in their tracks to watch as you ran into the bathroom only a few feet behind them.

"Huh," Steve mumbled, his heart throbbing at the sight of you.

"Sometimes I get sick when I look at you too, punk."

Bucky chuckled at his own joke, earning a glare from Steve.

"Go check on her for me, please."

"Always. But I won't keep giving you updates on her, y'know? It's not fair to her, Steve," Bucky sighed.

Steve only nodded in understanding, a smile only staying on his lips for a few seconds. He patted Bucky's back before turning on his heels and continuing on his path.

Your stomach clenched harder, and the vomit raced up your throat faster than ever. You barely got to the toilet before retching and gagging again, feeling instant relief when the bile finally came up. But then came a sudden second wave of nausea that seemed to be worse than the first. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the torture finally ended.

You stood up slowly and made your way to the sink. After tearing off a piece of paper towel, you dampened it under warm water. You wiped your mouth off with the damp napkin and threw it away before opening the door to leave.

"You okay?"

You jumped back slightly, looking over to meet piercing blue eyes. There was Bucky leaning up against the wall next to the bathroom door with his arms crossed.

"Jesus, Buck. You stalking me?"

"Stalking you? Definitely not. If I wanted to stalk someone, I'd find someone more interesting who doesn't eat half pints of vanilla bean ice cream and watch Pride and Prejudice or The Notebook every night," he jokes.

"Hey! It's how I cope and get over things; it's soothing."

"Yet you still pine over him, so how's that working out for ya?"

"...not great. Maybe I do need a new method, huh?"

The two of you exchange a laugh, and you start making your way back to the kitchen with Bucky right on your heels.

"So, are you okay?" he questions again.

"Just felt a little sick, that's all. And, hey, here's a tip: don't ever smell a rotten egg, it's not a pleasant experience," you say with a soft sigh.

He chuckles at your joke and replies, "Thank you for that. I'll remember that."

When you make it to the kitchen, he plants himself on a bar stool only a few feet away from you. You decide to continue making your cookies, holding your breath as you clean up the old egg.

"Wow, I can smell that from here. You weren't lying. That is bad."

His nose turns up and his face scrunches, earning a giggle from you. You two chat as you make the dough, and soon enough, you're finished baking. As you put the last cookies on the tray, Bucky stands up to get a closer look.

"God. Per usual, those smell amazing," he groans, reaching for one of the hot sweets.

You swat his hand away with a laugh. "Not until they're cooled down!"

He fakes a frown that makes you laugh again. You shake your head, making a 'tsk' noise at him.

"You're a menace, Buck," you joke.

He only shrugs his shoulders with a lopsided grin, then he pulls you into a hug. "Somebody has to get on your nerves. It keeps you distracted and on your feet," he teases.

"Thank you for being here for me."

Your body relaxes in his arms. You wrap your arms around his upper waist to return the sentiment. You take a deep breath and then pull away from the hug.

"How are you feeling, by the way?"

"It's almost like it never happened," you smirk.

"That's a lie, and you know it."

You're about to speak again, but close your mouth as soon as it opens. The nausea pools in your stomach again, forcing a huff out of you.

"I think I'm gonna be sick again."

"You're still feeling that bad over it?"

"No, I genuinely think I'm gonna throw up again, Buck," you say hurriedly, pushing by him to get back to the bathroom. "Put those cookies in a bag, Barnes! They're all yours!"

He chuckles and holds his thumb up in the air, even though you can't see it. "And you get yourself to the doctor, l/n."

And going to the doctor is exactly what you chose to do.

Well, almost.

You instead chose to go to the lab with Tony and Bruce, and you only decided to go after about the fourth wave of nausea that came around five hours after the first. Which is how you ended up in the lab with grippy socks on and a cold Sprite in hand as you await blood and urine test results.

"So, how are you holding up, kid?" Tony asks, his eyes glued to his computer.

"Been better, had better days."

He looks away from his computer for a moment, making eye contact with you. "I could just kill him for hurting you, and I hope you know that," he states, his voice carrying nothing but genuine honesty.

"Aw, Tony, you're just like the dad I never dreamed of having—violently overprotective and overdramatic."

Bruce chuckles, but Tony just rolls his eyes, focusing back on his computer.

"That's what I get for trying to be nice to you," Tony scoffs, trying his best to hide the smile that wants to creep onto his face.

"I'm going to take a walk, Tony. I'll be back in a few minutes," Bruce announces as he rises from his chair. "If the computer beeps, it's her results coming back."

"Got it," Tony responds plainly, entirely too distracted by something on his screen.

The computer beeps only a few minutes after Bruce walks out, indicating an update to your information. Tony swivels his chair over to the big screen and pulls up your test results. He studies them carefully, not saying a word.

"So...what's wrong with me?"

He's still silent when he turns to face you. At first, he looks shocked, but then his brows furrow and his eyes narrow ever so slightly. If you hadn't known him for as long as you have, you'd think he was judging you based on his facial expression, but you knew he wasn't. He looked conflicted and confused, almost hesitant.

"What is it, Tone? You're freaking me out here. Is it the flu? A stomach bug? Food poisoning?"

"How about a baby?"

Your jaw drops, literally. The words pool in your mind, and your brain starts feeling like it's going to explode from all the different emotions and thoughts. You start to feel sick to your stomach again but manage to push the feeling down.

"I..." you start, unable to find the words to finish.

"I'm sorry, y/n. I won't tell anyone, okay? Not even Bruce. We need to set you up with a doctor. I have an amazing one I can call to come here and-"

"I appreciate that, Tony, but I need time to think first. We'll, uhm, talk tomorrow if that's okay."

"Of course," he empathizes, a sympathetic smile tugging at his lips. "Come here, kid."

You shuffle your way into his open arms, not having the energy to return the hug. He pulls away after a few seconds and allows you to step back.

"I think I'm gonna go...or something... I don't know," you mumble, making your way towards the door.

"Hey, y/n?"

"Yeah?"

"If this is something you want, don't let him ruin it for you."

As soon as you leave the lab, it's like you're on autopilot.

Your feet took you to the downstairs office, then outside, and then to your car. When you get into your car, you tell yourself you're going to the store to grab some more ice cream. But your heart has other ideas; ideas such as Steve.

So, you drive yourself all the way to Steve's apartment, just wanting to be comforted by the familiarity for a moment. Then, somehow, you end up outside the front door of what used to be your shared space.

Your soft knock pulls Steve from the closest to sleep he's been in weeks. He curses under his breath, loathing whoever is at the door for ruining his chance at a few minutes to hours of peace.

However, that hate replaces itself with regret and adoration as soon as he opens the door to reveal your slouched-over form. Steve recognizes that look on your face, along with your body language, and it's evident that something is wrong.

As if you showing up at his door isn't surprising enough, you look up at him before letting yourself fall into his arms. He stands in shock as you lay your head on his warm and familiarly sculpted chest. Then sobs wrack through you, shaking your whole body, and that's all it takes for him to give into instinct and wrap his arms around you. The heat of his body and the feeling of his embrace provide a warming comfort as you cry into his shirt, only coaxing you further to let it all go.

One of his hands rubs your back gently while he holds you. "Y/n? What's wrong, honey? Talk to me," he coos.

You feel a tightness in your chest, a feeling that you can't put into words right now even if you tried your hardest to. In fact, all you can do is cry more as you hold tightly onto the sides of his shirt. You practically crumble into his chest, melting in his arms, and Steve understands. That's what made you fall for him in the first place, honestly - he always understands.

So, with no more words spoken, he holds you in the same doorway you walked out of only a couple of weeks ago. He holds you in that doorway until your tears slow and your breathing returns to normal. At some point, his thick fingers begin combing through your hair soothingly, the same way they used to every night at bedtime.

"I don't know what your stance on kids before marriage and after a breakup is, but you should figure it out soon," you mutter into his chest.

His body freezes, and his mind scrambles to catch up with your words. He looks down at your head, his eyebrows furrowing as he tries to make sense of the situation.

Are you truly saying what he thinks you are? You couldn't be...

"I'm pregnant, Steve."

[cindol]

LOOK AT YOU, BOY I INVENTED YOU.

y/n thought creating a silly robot as a boyfriend when feeling lonely would be feel until the robotic man turned sentient and very much knew what he wanted and how much he wanted his creator.

onyankapon x black fem reader

tw— reader is a nerdy scientist so yeahhh, Onyakopon is a robot obviously,jealousy, onyankopon is taller than you here, sorry!, shitty plot, kindaaa porn with plot, onyankopon calls reader creator, very cheesy dialogue,

a/n: I’ve never wrote full on smut so don’t expect the best !

If anyone had told y/n creating a robot with emotions and thought would be troublesome on her and have consequences she would’ve truly listened. Usually she would’ve seen the logic in this 6 months ago but she had came off a big breakup with her boyfriend, and the worse thing was he broke up with her over text and after seeing that heartbreaking text she was forced to see him in a nightclub with the girl he broke up with for on Instagram stories. So doing what she usually did, she turned to inventing things. Embarrassingly, the boy she invented herself was very inspired by her now ex boyfriend looks and celebrity men she always seen. Muscular build, black jet locs on his head, dark skin with a spider tat on the bottom of his abs.

But it seemed like she programmed the boy bot, onyankopon too smart. She had programmed the man to be obssesed and in love with her and only her but she didn’t think of the set back this would have for her. At first it was sweet really, how he would pick her up and automatically make his own muscular chest feel soft and less like metal so he could sit her on his chest while looking up at her pretty face making a grin through his robotic eyes. How he helped her slip her foot into some shoes for work was sweet also, and the soft kiss he gave on the clean shoe now on her foot making her bashful. It got out of hand once he got…jealous? She would bring her boy boy out to outings when she wanted to show off she had a cool bot or boyfriend (fake boyfriend). When she took him to public places where men occupied the spaces they were trying to attempt to flirt with her that triggered him. It was like he went through a sequence, as soon as any man tried to go past flirting and actual flirting he would grab their wrist with a iron grip and a glare in his robotic eyes making the man let out a genuine whimper that makes her gasp.”Onyankopon! Let go of that man’s wrist!” He of course listens on her command and let go almost letting out a human scoff at the man on the floor.

Once the both of you got home you could feel anger practically bubbling on onyankopon’s metal brown arm. His facial expression didn’t show it exactly but he was upset as he sat on the living room couch. Y/n stood up above his tall sitting figure looking at him with a stern look.”Onyankopon, why’d you do that to that man? You could’ve gotten me in real trouble, and you in some big trouble..” she mumbled the last part with a hand on her hip. Onyankopon made what sounded like a sigh coming out his mouth, his smart brain came up with the smartest response.”I am designed to protect and love you creator. So, I can’t allow another individual to flirt or go as far to touch you without your consent.” His eyes met hers as he said that, some boldness in his tone.

She frowned looking down at him and took a step forward, his respond was perfect and he did have obvious logic in his actions. God, why did she program to be so…perfect?”well as your creator, you can’t just hurt people in public I say onyankopon. You’re my boy boy and I say you can’t hurt potential lovers” onyankopon raised a brow at that and sat up.

He didn’t know what this feeling was, ever since he’s been created his creator has been having him experience feelings he felt he was ever meant to have. The feeling was.. anger at her words. He’s been with her throughout 6 months and would be dammed if she threw it all way. He still sat down on the couch on her level with what looked like a frown on his gorgeous face and his lips in a pout and eyes glaring up at her, giving her a small shover.”I mean this with zero disrespect creator, but i find you’ll need no other male than me in the near future.” a smile grazed his mouth.”Knowing what I know, I find that I’m the perfect match for you. I know you hate dragonfruit, love coconut water and potato bread and dislike heavy smelling cologne that’s displeasing on your nostrils.” He then stood up above her shorter figure.”I know you love muscular men.” He softly grabbed your wrist to make sure he didn’t have a iron grip on it and laid it on his chest.”you love the feeling of grazing your hands up and down a muscular chest and abs. And you perfer a man with a brown or dark complexion with locs and good musical taste and fashion.”a bashful look got on her face as her hand studied his chest. God, why did she program this bot with such a high iq?

She huffed, hand still gliding down his muscular chest.”why don’t you show me what kinda man I like in bed then? Since you’re full of answers..” she mumbled the last part, almost challenging him.

He didn’t even answer before he had her on her own bed on her back naked with her clothing and his discarded in a corner. He was towering over her with her eyes looking him and up down. If she wanted him to show the type of man he is, he would show her.

With his metallic brown dick standing proud nearly right in her face y/n made a gulp. Onyankopon took note of that and made what look liked a small smile forming on his lips. Grabbing both her legs he positioned them on his strong metal shoulders with a determined look in his eyes.”i assume you’re ready for me to show you the kind of man you need in bed creator?” She nearly gasped when she felt his dick enter her and the warm feeling she got from it. She tried to show him she still had the upper hand as his creator. She tried giving him a cold stare but gave a shakey nod. With that confirmation he fully pushed in, he could already feel how warm and wet she is.

He made a very human groan as he fully pushed in, matching with the whimper she made. Her toes curled with her hands gripping the sheets once she felt a buzzing noise… inside her?”hmph…wait… buzzing noise?” The buzzing intensified making her gasp.”that’s coming from my Corpus spongiosum.” He said with a smile. She moaned feeling the buzzing warm feeling on her pussy.”j-just—fuck— say dick or something..”

She could’ve sworn she heard a chuckle after that. With his buzzing dick he sped up his thrust with his hands gripping her legs that were on his shoulders. Her moans and whines got higher and higher feeling his thrust get rougher.”w-wait! I might..” he didn’t stop though and thrust got sloppier with her wet pussy. Eventually she creamed on him embarrassingly for her. That made onyankopon do a rare big grin.

“I’m not done here, I have to show you every way why I’m the perfect man for you.”

[kpop---scenarios]

Charmer (1)

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader x Suprise!

Genre: fwb, ex fwb, semi enemies to lovers

Warning: Heartbreak, small smut [18+ ONLY MINORS DO NOT READ]

Word Count: 2k

“Why do you do that?” You scoff, slamming the front door closed before you throw your purse down on to the table. You stare at your.. Minho as you take off your jacket, angrily hanging it up in the closet. You can hear him scoffing and mimicking you behind your back, stopping awfully quickly as you turn around to face him.

“What Y/N?” He asks. “What did I do now?”

“You flirt with every single fucking girl that's around when I'm right beside you. Aren't we kinda like..” You pause.

He rolls his eyes again. “Friends with benefits, I guess ones who like each other?” He chuckles.

“This. This is where you confuse the hell out of me. You say you like me, you fuck me, we go out and do shit but then you do shit like this and say shit like this.” You say. “I don't get it. Either you wanna be with me and are gonna ask me out officially, which means you stop flirting with other girls.. or..” you pause.

Minho puts his hand up to stop you. “I'm just being friendly to them. It's not flirting.”

“If I weren't there, you would have kissed her. And don't tell me you wouldn't have.” You deadpan.

“So what if I would have? Kissing isn't cheating. Hell, sex isn't even cheating. It's not an emotional attachment, Y/N. I don't love them. But we're also not dating so what does that matter?”

“Have you slept with other women?” You ask. Your stomach sinks as you watch his face, his void of any expression, showing such a lack of empathy or sympathy, face.

“No.” He yawns.

“Please, Minho. Just stop flirting with other girls. I'm not joking. I don't like it and I've told you that. So you need to stop it or it's done, whatever this is, is done.” You say.

“This really isn't anything though, Y/N. I don't know how many times I have to remind you of that. We're not dating, and to be completely honest, we probably won't date.” He tells you.

“So this is really going nowhere then?” You ask. You didn't know if you wanted to hear the answer to this. You didn't want everything to change, it only takes a split second for your entire world to do a complete 180.

“I wouldn't say nowhere.” He chuckles. “I mean we have fun and stuff, but then we can also have fun with other people. I'm not looking to settle down right now, okay?” He says, placing his hand on your shoulder. “When I want to settle down, I'll let you know.” He smiles, taking his shirt off, then his pants before crawling into your bed. You didn't want to crawl in next to him, but you knew you would because when it came to Minho, you felt like you were addicted. Ever since you first saw him at some college frat party in your third year of school. He caught your eye immediately, and you couldn't look away no matter what you did. Even though he was with another girl, you paid her absolutely no mind as you watched the way his body moved when he danced, or how his eyes crinkled when he laughed. He was the most handsome man you'd ever seen and you wanted to know more.

When you finally had the courage to speak to him, he asked you out for a drink, and of course you said yes. You had a great time out with him, you drank, laughed and danced, it had been the most fun you'd had in quite a while. It was almost like he was bringing your spark back and you loved him for it. As the months went on, you fell more and more in love with him, but he was always very casual with you. Casual in the way he spoke to you in public, in the way he treated you in public but when the two of you were alone, on occasion, it felt like you were dating. You would eat dinner together, snuggle while you watched movies, he fucked you so good, when he didnt want it to be quick. He honestly made you confused and feel like you were dating when he was so sweet to you.

And now, two years later, the two of you are still doing the same thing. You hadn't been with anyone else other than him in the last two years, and even though he said he hadn't been with anyone else, you weren't sure if you completely believed him, and you didn't know how much longer you were going to be able to do this, which is something you seemed to say quite often to yourself but never did anything to change the situation, mainly because even though you weren't dating and he didn't treat you the greatest, you didn't want to lose him. It was demented. You knew you were demented but you couldn't resist him.

Minho rolls over, his arm draping over you as he grinds his hard cock into your ass.

“Mhmn.” He groans, pulling your panties down. You didn't say a word, instead scooted back, closer to him. He grabs your leg, putting it over him as he shimmies his boxers down, letting his cock out. He sucks his fingers before pushing them into your cunt, making him groan.

“You're already wet for me, huh, baby?” He says, pumping his fingers in and out a few times before using your wetness to coat his cock. He lines himself up before pushing into you. You gasp loudly, as you do each time he shoves his cock into you.

“You feel so good.” He whispers, his lips touching your ear. He quietly moans into your ear, sending shivers down your spine as he slowly thrusts in and out of you. “Play with your clit.” He groans. You reach between your legs, touching your already throbbing clit. You were so desperate for his touch, his emotions that you were willing to do as he says.

“Shit.” You gasp, clenching yourself around him as you rub yourself faster, Minho also picking up his pace as he fucks you. He brings his hand up, cupping your clothed breast, flicking your nipple over your shirt while he rams himself inside you.

“Cum baby. It's gotta be quick.” He gasps. It didn't matter how close you were or not, whenever he told you to cum, within seconds you would. You swore he had some kind of magic when it came to making you cum when he was around.

You cry out loudly as he moves faster but with shorter strokes, his impending orgasm building up quickly. He pants loudly in your ear, lightly groaning until he finally finishes, dumping his warm cum inside of you.

When he was done, he pulled up his boxers, rolling over to go to sleep. While you had to get up, get cleaned up before crawling back into bed

and you fall asleep that night, feeling guilty.

When you woke up in the morning, you looked over and Minho was already gone. This wasn't unusual for him, usually he'd fuck you, fall asleep and then leave really early around 4 or 5 in the morning to go home. Never waking you up, never saying goodbye. If he was feeling nice he would leave you a note but even that was rare. You got up for the day, doing your usual morning routine, if anyone asked you if you thought anything in your life would change today you would have absolutely said no. You lounged around for the day, not hearing anything from Minho, which was a little weird, he usually asked you to go for drinks with all your mutual friends but today you hadn't heard a single thing. Instead, Changbin had texted you around 8pm, telling you to come out and meet up with everyone. As you're finishing getting dressed and ready, your phone rings. And it's your favorite person in the world.

“Hello?” You answer.

“Bitch.” Jihyo yells into the speaker.

“Bitch yourself, it's 10am.” You laugh.

“No, seriously. Bitch.” She harshly whispers.

“What?” You gasp.

Years ago you and Jihyo had started saying bitch whenever you saw something you couldn't believe but you didn't want others to know you noticed it.

“Get down here. Now.” She says, hanging up the phone. You quickly finish up your look, grab your purse and head out the door. You were only a few minutes drive from the bar, so you hopped in a taxi quickly and made your way there. You paid your fare, rushing out of the cab and into the bar, where Jihyo was waiting at the door for you. She grabs onto your arm, pulling you towards the table of people you all recognized, all people you were friends with.

“Hey Y/N.” Changbin smiles, taking a sip of his beer.

“Y/N! Finally!” Hyunjin yells. You look around the table unsure of what Jihyo was telling you bitch for.

“What's going on?” You lean over to ask Jihyo.

“Just wait.” She urges, sipping her cocktail while her eyes dart around the room. You order a few drinks and shots to make sure you catch up to the rest of them. You were feeling fine and confident until Jeongin started to talk.

“I thought you and Minho were dating?” He asks, drinking his beer.

“It's complicated.” You say. “He's not ready to settle down.”

“Then why..” Jeongin starts before Jihyo cuts him off.

“Why what?” You ask, glancing around the table. They all look down, each one of them refusing to look you in the eyes. “You guys..” you start, until you see it. You see what Jihyo was saying bitch for. You watch as Minho struts towards the table, a woman wrapped around his arm.

“Long time in the bathroom.” Changbin mentions.

The girl giggles, hiding her face in Minho's shoulder as you glare at him. “Things take time, Bin.” Minho chuckles.

“Ah, Y/N. Who invited you?” He asks.

“Changbin.” You deadpan. “Who's the girl?” You ask, motioning to her.

“Ah, this is Jennie. My girlfriend.” He grins.

You choke on your drink.

“Girlfriend?” You gasp.

He nods his head.

“As of when?” You ask.

“This morning. We met up for breakfast and made it official.” He says.

Your heart sinks. He had just had his cock in you hours before, not to mention tells you he doesn't want to settle down, but then gets a girlfriend? Was it that he didn't want to settle down, or just that he didn't want to settle down with you?

“So what about our talk last night?” You yell. Your rage is consuming you. Why weren't you good enough now when you had been good enough to play the role for the last two years?

“What talk?” Minho laughs. He was looking at you like you were crazy.

“The one where you said you didn't want to settle down?” You yell.

“I'm sorry, Y/N.” He starts. “I was trying to be nice to you, you know, letting you down gently. But it seems that I need to be a little harsher with you now.” He says, giving you a pitiful side smile. “I just say that to women when I don't want anything more than just sex from them.” He says, shrugging his shoulders. You look around the table, everyone's mouths are hanging open.

“Minho..” Changbin starts. “That's fucked up, man.”

“What!?” He gasps. You can yell he genuinely doesn't think he's said or anything wrong.

You stand up abruptly, your chair falling back.

“Fuck you, Lee Know.” You spit.

“Y/N!” Jeongin and Jihyo call out. You dont hear them, your ears are ringing with fucking rage as you storm out of the bar, determined to cut off all kinds of contact with him. You wanted to, you really did. This had to be the last straw for you. But was it?

[diejager]

New Ownership

Pairing: Dark!Krueger + König x doll!reader

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, possessive behaviour, magic?, death, heartbreak, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1.2k

You used to watch people awe at you, expressing their shock, incredulous and pleasing, under the protection of your owner —your creator. You were an object of emotion; of melancholy. You were a life size doll made of porcelain and wax, of hohair and glass eyes, painted in the richest pigments and dressed in the finest fabrics, you were the epitome of treasure in your time. A doll made with utmost care and tenderness to heal a wounded heart. 

Your creator was a doll maker, building every doll with a special kind of affection, be it for his collection or for a client, he always loved his dolls. He made as much as he gave, the single joy of his life was the present his late-wife gave him, a daughter to call his own, someone soft and living unlike the cold bisque of his creations. You were a present for her coming-of-age, a mimicry of her person, made with love for the adoration he had for his daughter, and sadness for seeing her grow up and leave, to start a new life without him. Every stroke was perfection and every detail was imperfection, you were perfectly imperfect, a mirror to a human.

You were made as an object to remember him by once she left to live with her fiance, painted in the last moments before he saw her off. He dressed you up in a pretty dress, a voluptuous crimson for the passion and a deep black for the end of he past and the start of a new beginning. He made you into what he saw his sweet, precious daughter as, a dream that he was ecstatic to gift, but she was in an accident the week before her celebration. She died of it, passing in writhing pain and tearful agony. It broke the man who lived to care. Your tender creator who lived to love and give.

He drowned in the throes of sorrow and agony, paraliysed by his own fears and torn apart by his nightmares, and left the house you once loved to rot and waste away just as he was. Sobbing nights and depressing mornings, you were unable to do anything but watch as he spent his days rotting, his skin sinking, his hair outgrow and his complexity pale unhealthily, yet he still cared for you. Your creator —your father cleaned you, dressed you and incased you in a thin layer of wax and gel to protect you from the changing times. 

You gave him solace, something to live for after he closed his quaint shop and became a hermit, crazed and lonely, having nothing but you to talk to and spend his shortening time with. You wished you could tell him how much you cared, how much you shared his sorrows or how saddened you were to see him like this. And like his daughter, your father passed away, heartbroken and lonely, leaving you to watch over his cooling body dissolving in his bed. All the wasted years, spent seated in your chair, unmoving and unliving, never being able to reach out to him to show him how much you loved him. Life, however, ran its course, uncaring of any kind of self-sought fury or self-given agony, you were just a doll given conscience and memory. 

You were picked up by a relative, estranged and distant from yours. He was German, or Austrian from the rough tone he used, a deep growl as he appraised you, rough fingers caressing your face like he was admiring you. He was, this wasn’t admiration in his eyes, you knew it, that sick and twisted gleam in his brown eyes, it was obsession. It was a perverted kind of adoration, it made you fear what he would do to you.

And these fears, these demons that clung to your peripheral, weren’t unfounded, weren’t an illusion your conscience made up to fill the void in your empty core. You were carefully stuffed in a box, stored safely during the long move from your small town in Germany to a place in Austria, locked away in a loud and dark place and only brought out to be placed in another cage of gold. 

He laid you in a pentagram of sorts, a crooked thing painted in a dark red and terrifying runes that promised nothing but evil. He enacted this… ritual that would affect you in some way, his low chants and hisses while he stared you down with hungry eyes once he stripped you of all clothes, lathering your porcelain with markings. He scared you more, knowing that he had this planned out, and that he wasn’t alone. 

There was a shadow of a giant behind him, a man heads taller than most with cold eyes peeking through a fabric to gaze at you. He had broad shoulders and thick arms, seemingly swallowing the corner he stood from. He took up a lot of your attention, ripped between the chanting man and him from your chair, placed perfectly at the center of this ritualistic circle. You were a show to the giant and a project to your new owner, a spectacle to watch unravel and writhe in pain.

It hurt. Why did this hurt? Your skin tingled, an annoyance that grew to a boiling agony, this sacrilegious magic reworking your imperfect body to fit one of his whims. You shook in your chair, the red sinking into your skin, lining the inside of your precious porcelain with runes as your fingers and toes flexed, limbs jerking from the information overload on your new nerves, synapses snapping into place and building a circuit of sensitive system. You could blink and you could cry, tears springing from your fluttering lashes, lips trembling before you screamed, a shrill cry that wailed out of your lungs. 

Your chest burned, it felt heavy with an erratic pulse, beat after beat slamming into your calcified ribs, warm fat and strained muscles. You felt like you were drowning, your throat clogged with something sick and dying after you shriek, acidic to your tongue. It stole the air from your lungs and you had to fill it back, the nagging urge to do so. Your chest expanded with your first breath, it hurt - it burned, but you didn’t drown - but it seamed the first seed of life within you. 

You slumped forward, eyes rolling to the back of your head as the last words he uttered passed through your mind, a searing memory forever imprinted in your conscience. You fell into warm arms, a soothing warmth unlike the boiling pit of magma that raged over you, embracing you with a quiet coo from the man who brought you to life. He hoisted you up, wrapping an arm under your knees and another firmly pressing your naked chest to his. Yours limbs were strangers to you, new and uncanny that you couldn’t move or control just yet. You limply laying your head in the crook of his neck, burying your nose in a green veil smelling strongly of musk and metal, your legs too weak and arms too tense like a newly born fawn.

“Besorg mir etwas, um sie zu bedecken, König”

“Ja, bin gleich wiener da..”

“Welcome to the living, Rehkitz.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

[peachsayshi]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ EX-BOYFRIEND HCS (feat. Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Choso) 

minors / ageless / blank blogs dni

ˋ°•*⁀➷  tags: angsty, mentions of break ups, mentions of make ups, mentions of commitment issues, I’m keeping all of this kind of vague.  

ˋ°•*⁀➷  notes: decided to finally edit up this post that I wrote xo I hope you enjoy it! feedback/reblogs are always appreciated <3 

wc: 1,204

gojo:

he understood why you ended things with him. he’s not an easy man to love, he doesn’t exist in a world where a life can simply be built. he didn’t fight you on your decision or beg you to change your mind. there is nothing he can offer in return which is why he conceded in letting you go, even though the choice destroyed him beyond comprehension. this is the first time he’s ever felt truly broken and he chooses not to cross paths with you for the sake of his own wellbeing. 

but still, he can never fully erase you from his life. you were his pretty light, the spark of happiness that brought him profound joy. he can’t help but succumb to an opportunity of sneaking back in, even in the smallest of ways. besides, the break up didn’t end with fighting or hateful words, it was amicable - so, why can’t he show any signs of fondness? 

these excuses come with every birthday, holiday or special occasion. you always receive a thoughtful gift wrapped up in a pretty bow. gojo never includes a card, but the way your heart seizes up tells you that it is from him. it lingers in your mind that he still thinks about you, even though you are trying to move on. your heart fights you on every decision you make. you would meet bachelors who would exude perfection but they don’t even come close to the man you once loved. satoru gojo may no longer hold space in your life, but the painful reality is that there’s a void inside you that only he can fill. 

geto: 

the man who stole your heart - there’s an ache in the place where the muscle once resided. he snatched it away without even knowing, and disappeared into the shadows. you don’t hear from him at all, not even a single text or a phone call. the silence is absolutely haunting - he doesn’t know the hurt is the reason why you hate him, but how its also a reminder of just how much you love him. he makes time stand still - and your world stops moving. 

suguru should know better - this way is easier (or so he thinks), he had his reasons (or so he thinks). he spends his days analyzing this decision - dissects it, pries it open and pokes at it in all angles. every conclusion leads to him acknowledging that you deserve far more than what he can give you. but still it becomes his obsession, his source of contention and irritation. it’s not like he hasn’t done this before, but why can’t he snip the last tether that’s tugging at his heart? 

it’s him showing up in the middle of the night, taking in the stunned expression on your face after months of zero contact. he holds you with so much care when he apologizes, begs you to take him back as he whispers sweet words in your ear. you’re not proud of the way you melt right into arms, or how easily you invite him to your bed. you hate that you would let him break your heart a thousand times over, not knowing that he’'ll fight to his last breath just to mend it back together. 

nanami: 

messy is the only word to describe the break up. somehow it wasn’t even a one sided decision, but a point where neither of you were willing to carry on. the heartbreaking thing is that the two of you didn’t just end a relationship, you ended an entire life together. nanami never went into anything half-assed, and that included what he shared with you. now, he sits in his new apartment, most of his things still packed in boxes, and he can’t bring himself to settle down. you were the only home he’s ever grown to love and he can’t help but think what it was about this particular fight that defined the course of your relationship.

nanami was mature about the aftermath, but his removed behavior made you feel small, made you wonder if he was truly unaffected by the pain of separation. as you divide up your life you ponder if he’s reconsidering the entire decision as well. this whole blow up felt so stupid to you now, a minor blimp in the beautiful story of your love together. you knew he wasn’t good at expressing himself in the moment, but when he finally left the key to your place behind, everything came crashing down at once. 

you both have a hard time referring to each other as exes. you both still speak about one another with such tenderness. your loved ones pushed you both into seeking each other out, but neither of you were willing to disturb the other’s peace. you’ve both done enough damage, caused enough hurt that would last a lifetime. it’s only by chance that you stumble into him at a new coffee shop - like fate itself worked hard to ensure you swung the door open just as he stepped through the threshold, that your bodies collided at the right moment so you can see the missing half of your soul in each other’s eyes. 

choso: 

“can we at least be friends?” - how were you supposed to say no after you had just broken him. this man whose sweet heart radiated nothing but gold even though his eyes were full of sadness. he didn't ask you questions as to why you felt the need to end this, didn’t push your decision even though things were going relatively well. you were so thankful because the extent to which he loved you was petrifiying. you just needed to find yourself for a moment - to catch your breath, and ground your feet after floating on air. 

it’s hard to ignore that choso shared your body and heart. your friendship is so different, and you can’t help but feel like you were tiptoeing around a minefield. he looks at you with immense hope, and that optimism weakens your will. you don’t want to sell him any dreams unless you were sure yourself. so you try your best to keep things platonic - you make sure that you are never alone with him for too long, give other suitors a chance for casual flings, and even go as far as setting choso up on a date. 

you’ve somehow convinced yourself that this is good for you both, until choso asks “do you hate me?” - it hurts seeing him break before your eyes, listening to him question you if you’re doing all this because you don’t want him around you anymore. he tells you that it hurts and you don’t know how to justify any of your actions by using your fear as an excuse. he’s given you no reason to think he won’t cherish your love, and all you can think about is making him smile. waking up tangled between the sheet with him makes you feel sick. your heart races when his arm squeezes around your waist, when his lips brush softly against the back of your neck and you’re burrowing yourself deeper into this hole with no idea how to make it out safely. 

[yan-lorkai]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/n: This was requested by anon, yet i lost the og request. Here you go, darling. On another note, I feel I wrote Trey way too many times here lololol

Warnings: yandere content, power imbalance, threats, broken darling, gn!reader

Affection: Trey’s affection is subtle yet intense. He loves through small acts — cooking your favorite dishes, anticipating your needs before you voice them. His devotion borders on obsession, and he’ll be constantly near, gentle in tone but with a possessive undertone. In private, his affection grows insistent, almost overwhelming, as he ensures you’re constantly reminded of how “perfect” things are when you’re together. All you need is him.

Blood: Trey isn’t one to get messy — at least, not in an obvious way. If anyone becomes an obstacle, he’s skilled at handling things quietly, ensuring that any threats to his happiness with you “disappear” without leaving a trace. But if push comes to shove, he’s not above a more hands-on approach. After all, he’s just protecting what’s his in his perspective.

Cruelty: His cruelty is masked by kindness. While he wouldn’t openly mock you, he might gently tease, subtly reminding you of your “place” if you show defiance. He’d treat you well, showing restraint, but his words would carry subtle, cutting reminders that resistance is futile. And what can you do against him? Trey is well loved by the other students and they are more prone to believe him than they are with you.

Darling: His control is delicate but firm. He wouldn’t need to use overt force, but his expectations are clear. If you’re reluctant about something, he’ll patiently convince you / compromise with you so things can go his way, sweetly and persistently guiding you into compliance without direct coercion. Yet, he is not afraid of punishing you for misbehaving.

Exposed: Trey hides his darker tendencies well, even from you, only hinting at his possessive side when he feels your loyalty waver. He shows his heart in gentle ways — vulnerable moments late at night, sharing memories and telling bad jokes, comforting you, spoon feeding you sweets he just made. But he guards his obsessive side carefully, wanting to keep a polished image.

Fight: If you fight back, he’ll take it in stride, simply smiling and offering calm reminders that he only wants the best for you - he always wants the best for you, you know? Beneath the calm exterior, though, he’ll become a bit more strict, carefully watching for further resistance and ensuring it never becomes an issue. He tries again and again to find common ground with you because he loves you and values your opinions a lot, yet when you are being unreasonable, he can't help but make things his way.

Game: To Trey, this isn’t a game — it’s his life. He wants you fully in it, with no room for escape. Watching you try to leave is heartbreaking to him, though he’ll hide that pain behind a patient, almost disappointed expression, as if waiting for you to realize there’s nowhere else for you but with him.

Hell: The worst experience with Trey would be his quiet, eerie punishments. If you defy him, he’ll start limiting your freedom piece by piece, removing privileges like outside time or contact with others until you feel as trapped as he needs you to be. You want to act like he is just some kidnapper, so he shall treat you like a prisoner - things don't have to be this way, but you love to play the victim.

Ideals: Trey envisions a “perfect” domestic future where you both live happily ever after, maybe even settling down in a small, peaceful place. He wants a life with you where you’ll grow to “appreciate” him, living under his devoted, watchful care, like the cute lover he knows he can shape you to be.

Jealousy: He keeps his jealousy in check, hiding it behind a calm smile. He's not really that jealous, you can have your friends, your interests, but when you start putting this things before him, that's when he gets annoyed and jealous of everything that is stealing you from him. Anyone who gets too close will feel his silent wrath. Though, instead of lashing out publicly on others as Riddle would do, he’ll take more covert actions to make sure no one stands between you and him.

Kisses: Around you, Trey is tender and calm. He likes subtle, lingering touches, a hand on your back, brushing hair from your face, soft kisses on your forehead. There’s warmth in each gesture, but if you look closely, you’ll see the underlying possessiveness in his eyes.

Love letters: Trey’s courting is subtle, coming in the form of thoughtful gestures, acts of service, and quiet, charming words. He’d woo you over time, acting as the ideal friend and confidant, making you feel comfortable enough to trust him before his intentions grow clearer.

Mask: Trey’s friendly, laid-back demeanor hides his possessive nature well. Most people wouldn’t suspect anything; he’s excellent at keeping his darker urges under wraps. However, if you look closely, you might notice glimpses of his true, obsessive self when he thinks no one’s watching.

Naughty: If he needs to punish you, Trey prefers psychological methods. A quiet withdrawal, locking you in a room for a few hours, or restricting privileges—his punishments are subtle but effective, designed to make you feel remorseful and compliant without scaring you too openly.

Oppression: Trey would gradually limit your freedoms, convincing you it’s for your own good. At first, it might just be limiting certain people you interact with; later, it may extend to when and where you’re allowed to go. His rules tighten until there’s hardly any choice left but to depend on him.

Patience: Trey is endlessly patient, willing to wait as long as it takes for you to accept him. He views any resistance as temporary, believing that with enough time and care, he’ll win you over.

Quit: If you escaped, Trey would search tirelessly. You mean too much to him to let go, and he’d follow every lead until he found you, ready to start over as if nothing had happened. If he couldn’t find you, he would never fully move on, haunted by the loss and always watching for any sign of you.

Stigma: I see him having more of a possessive side that stemmed from a need to protect, perhaps from early experiences of people he cared about leaving - his siblings, in extention, Riddle. Now, he craves control over the one person he believes he can’t afford to lose, over his beloved darling.

Regret: He rarely feels regret. In his mind, his actions are justified by his love. If you suffered, it’s only because you didn’t understand that he’s doing this for both of you. Letting you go would feel like a betrayal to his heart.

Tears: Seeing you in distress is painful, but he’d take it as part of the process. He’d comfort you afterward, softening his tone, reminding you that he’s doing everything for your own good and that things will be easier once you accept him.

Unique: His approach is subtle and controlled. Rather than outward aggression, he uses manipulation and charm, making you feel secure while quietly drawing the walls in tighter around you until you have no choice but to rely on him. He is so much like a spider weaving its web.

Vice: His greatest weakness is his need for your acceptance, for your love. If you managed to feign affection, slowly gaining his trust, you might have a chance to manipulate him or even escape under his watchful eye.

Xoanon: Trey places you on a pedestal, thinking of you as his perfect match. His devotion runs deep, but it’s twisted by his possessiveness. He would go to great lengths to win you over, molding himself into whatever role you needed, all to ensure you remain by his side. He can be rough, he can be gentle, he can be anything you need.

Wit’s End: While Trey rarely lashes out, he would become harsher if truly provoked. Physical harm would be a last resort, and only if he felt it necessary to “teach” you a lesson. His punishments would be calm and methodical, just enough to remind you of his control. Yet they give you nightmares for many nights to come.

Yearn: He would watch you from afar, admiring your quirks and mannerisms, feeling everything you made him feel. It’s a slow burn, but once he realizes his feelings won’t fade, he begins crafting his plan, how he can guide you to come to him willingly, how he can make you depend on him.

Zenith: Breaking you isn't on his plans for you; he’d prefer for you to come around to him naturally. But if it took breaking you down to ensure your obedience, he would do it, promising himself that, in time, you’d come to “understand” his love. And if you broke beyond repair, then he can take care of you.

[ybklix]

omgg how about Han Jisung being supportive and pretending to be happy for y/n when she was dating his best friend?

𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐫𝐤

♡ pairing: bff!han x fem!reader

♡ genre: angst ?

✧summary: Han simply tries to be happy after the news that you're dating his best friend, but his heart and body betray him, however his brain controls his mouth by just keep telling you the sweetest things and wishing you the best.

★ warnings: suggestive wet dream with oral sex, mention of masturbation

word count: 2.2k

MASTERLIST

a/n: ok i wrote this, i hope it’s okay<3 :0

Han pretended to smile, as he felt his insides shatter, his heart pounding and he suddenly felt so dry, as if all the blood in his system had left him.

Your words were simple, carefree, but sharp and heartbreaking to Han, “Oh, it's not big news, but Chan and I are dating.”

The whole table watched you guys in surprise, dumbfounded, while shouts of 'agh, we saw this coming', 'Channie once again doing his thing', and on the other side, Han Jisung, silently, sketching a smile showing his teeth.

You were a group of six best friends who did everything together, you and your other two girl best friends, Ari, Jiah, the guys, Han, Changbin and Chan.

You were all friends but for Han… at least he felt that among the six of you, you two were the closest, the only flaw of Jisung, or Han, as you all usually call him, is that he is extremely reserved, behind his lively personality, jokes and laughter, he always hides deep inside him his real feelings and he knows how to do it so well, that's why no one felt bad for him when you announced that you and Chan were dating, no one knew that Jisung secretly loved you, not even you, you just knew how incredibly sweet and good a friend he was, even to Ari and Jiah who only expressed sweetly about Han, saying he was always there to help them, but to him there was always a slight more special treat for you.

Han wanted to cry, you looked so happy as his best friend wrapped his arms around your waist behind the elongated couch in the restaurant. You decided to tell everyone at the same time, like removing a band aid so quickly.

Jisung blamed the city, he was devastated that he had to find a damn thing to blame other than himself and his inability to express himself since because of him, for not speaking up sooner, he had lost you, maybe forever. Chan was… everything he wasn't, he was more charming, not as assertive with his words as Jisung was, but, he managed to captivate people in his own way, he was stronger, older, openly cared for people more and…. He expressed what he felt without any problem.

You would never have suspected it from Han, he was energetic and funny with the whole group, he had a couple of failed dates but in every gathering of friends he makes it clear that for the moment, love is not knocking at his door, everyone listens to him, and comforts him equally, but it's only your words and actions that matter the most to him. Or mattered, for you were now another man's, his best friend's.

The six of you had planned one of your trips, as usual, this time it had been New York, Jiah and Changbin had some small business in the city so the rest of the group signed up as a group trip. You had been talking to Chan secretly since before the trip, flirting by message, until, sure enough just as Jisung thought, your romance bomb went off once you arrived in the new city.

That night Han walked aimlessly, he took cabs whose routes he didn't know, he felt like a movie character alone and sad in an unknown city, and, if his memory didn't fail him, he made it to Brooklyn, where the famous bridge witnessed his tears and a sad and empty Jisung; there was no explanation for his feeling, it was as if he was drunk, floating and searching for his soul… he had to get rid of you and every little thing his mind collected as something he adored. The sound of your laughter, your manners, everything.

He went back to the building where the six of you stayed, he used the silly excuse of wanting to explore the city just to have inspiration for his songs, since he was a songwriter, but of all the sweet love songs he wrote you, which he always made it clear he wrote because he saw a movie or read a book, they wouldn't compare to everything that came with experiencing his heartbreak.

You stayed in one room with your other two friends, and the guys stayed in another room, it was late so Jisung decided not to make so much noise when entering the apartment, he fought with all his will not to snoop around Chan's room to find out if he would be there… and if he wasn't, there was only one painful option, he was with you, in your arms.

Again, a pang in his chest, he felt as if he had just had such a painful breakup and you didn't even kiss once, there was nothing between you in the sight of everyone and yours but just friendship. He was so down that he just let himself lay on the bed, face down, hoping he wouldn't wake up the next morning or if he did, he wished it had all been a nightmare, that Changbin would wake him up the next morning and that their group of friends was still the same without dating each other.

But even his mind was not in poor Jisung's favor, he had such a vivid and deep dream, where even he could feel that he was smiling on the outside, the dream was you and Han, in a karaoke booth, like one of your many nights together, having fun, singing loudly and jumping, then he would sit, taking his glass with his drink and admiring you, you would sing looking towards the screen and then energetically turn to him, wanting to invite him to sing but by accident you hit his drink spilling it on him.

“Oh, I'm sorry I'm sorry” you were saying to him as you got down on your knees trying to clean it up, in a concerned tone and then laughing.

“It's ok, it's ok” Jisung would reply to you as he noticed you frantically patting, a specific part of him that in moments it woke up.

In his dream it was so fast, there was no need for words, just you looking him straight in the eyes while biting your lip, unbuttoning his pants and pulling down his underwear to promptly take his cock in your mouth, having Jisung completely ecstatic, his gasps unheard over the loud music, the dark light of the cabin with the colored lights illuminating you taking his cock… and suddenly, Jisung woke up startled, his phone vibrating in his pocket startled him, shaking, still excited and heart racing, he picked up his cell phone and saw that it was several messages from you. He was still blurry-eyed after waking up and couldn't see clearly if they were old or recent messages, so he rubbed his eyes and there it was, message just now.

He saw the time… thinking what the hell were you doing insisting him so late when you were supposed to already have a boyfriend to bother, including on your energetic nights when you can't sleep but you'd talk to Han. He opened your chat, and that's exactly what it was about, you couldn't sleep and you wanted to see him.

Han threw his phone annoyed towards his bed, he sighed in frustration and turned in bed to look up at the ceiling, a few seconds ago he was horny, now he was back to finding the sensations afloat, still with the erection in his tight jeans, but sad. Worst of all, he'd go after your call no matter what. Han lifted his chin and gaze, looking down at his aching erection and, he waited, for his mood swing to do its job and soften his cock, but it wouldn't so he almost annoyed, he had to masturbate, feeling so fucking embarrassed and humiliated. As if losing the girl he loved wasn't enough, now he had to masturbate in his room in a suite shared with his two other friends in an unknown city at 4 in the morning.

Han cleaned up his mess, tidied himself up a bit and hurried out, towards the hotel lobby where you had summoned him. He saw you, wearing your pajamas sitting at the large reception couch. Your face lit up at the sight of him and it broke him up even more.

He sat next to you, breathing in your sweet scent.

“The city that never sleeps, also has people working all the time who don't sleep either” you told him jokingly, “I'm still not used to the time difference, and you?”

“I've been sleeping pretty well” he replied curtly, his life was going pretty well since he found out you were dating Chan, to be accurate and honest, but he couldn't tell you that.

You saw Han with a slight pout on your face, since dinner you noticed him very silent, he didn't even limited himself to joke a little with the news of you and Chan dating, and he didn't want to accompany the rest of you to walk around the city, you wondered if something was wrong with him. So you decided to tell him:

“All right… you've been quiet…” you tilted your head, trying to catch his gaze.

“I'm fine” smiled Han, daring to look you in the eyes, bad decision, if he saw you another second longer he would start crying, “I'm tired, it's late.”

“Oh, I'm really sorry, Sungie, it's just that since you responded to my texts I thought you were awake, I shouldn't have woken up…”

“I'm fine, I was tired but I couldn't sleep either.”

You looked at Han, his eyes actually looked a little tired, it wasn't his typical look of his round eyes wide open, attentive and tender.

“Well, I'm glad you're here with me” you told him with a smile, leaning your body more towards him, Han was just praying like he had never prayed in his life, please don't mention him, but you did, “… It's just that you were quiet, you didn't even joke about the news or anything” you said amused.

Han closed his eyes deeply, taking a deep breath of his pain.

“It was nothing to joke about about” he replied again serious.

“Uh, I know, but, I don't know why I expected it from you… but, can I confess something to you?”

Han watched you attentively, paying attention to your every move and word, despite his body being sore and tired. He nodded.

“Well it's weird… now I'm going back home with a boyfriend after I publicly announced that I hated all men” you joked to which he let out a chuckle, “I don't know if I did the right thing by starting dating someone from the same group, I don't want to mess up the whole group by creating tension and being that typical dumb couple.”

Han smiled sideways at your honesty, not knowing that you had ruined it, or at least both of it, both the friendship and him; eventually, which Han doesn't expect or want you to, trouble will appear… creating the most cliché scenario of all, that was also one of the main reasons why he stopped himself, he thought of everyone, he thought of Changbin, Ari, Jiah… and Chan; Jisung wanted to laugh in disbelief as he realized that ultimately Chan didn't give a shit about the non-existent code and morals of their group of friends, but Han didn't blame him either, for you, who wouldn't do everything, he would kill for you if you asked him to, and deep down, he just hoped Chan would do the same for you, love you well, know every detail that you dislike, and when you're feeling really down you have a marathon of every episode of Treehouse of horror from The Simpsons.

“I've known Chan…” began Han sincerely, trying to say the right words to express what he was feeling at such a vulnerable moment, “longer than I've known you, I know exactly how he is” and how you are, Han thought, “I know… he knows how to take care of people very well and... of course, he'll take care of you very well.”

Han tried to smile, but a knot formed in his throat, he couldn't keep talking, a flood of emotions overwhelmed his body and mind, he thought about how beautiful it is to love you, how lucky his best friend is, he thought about Chan, about their long years of friendship, he never failed him even once… just this one time, but how was he supposed to know, he had no idea that Han liked you.

Han couldn't change the time, he can't go back in all the countless opportunities he could have told you how much he liked you and… That he loved you, so all that was left for him to do was to be mature, and wish you well.

“Still” he cleared his throat, “you know you can always count on me, I'll always be there for you no matter what… Chan is, a very good man.”

You smiled at him, feeling his words like a warm hug, when to him, they were like stabs inside, you leaned your head on his shoulder, enjoying the noise of the city piercing the walls and enjoying the closeness of your best friend, you hoped that even if you dated Chan, it wouldn't ruin your friendship with Jisung. You really adored him.

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