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ghost-proofbaby · 2 days

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SIMPLE. (astarion ancunin x afab!reader)

based upon this request by @leahthesith: you've grown tired of astarion's games of jealousy, and it all comes crashing down one night when he chooses to spoil your fun with shadowheart.

warnings: mentions and allusions to astarion's past, as well as his sexual trauma. biting. lots, and lots, and lots of biting. oral sex ('f' receiving), smut. reader is not explicitly gendered/no pronouns are used. only a brief comparison of a 'schoolgirl crush'. reader has also had almost romantic interactions with several companions. 18+ - minors dni.

wc: 7.4k+

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There’s no reason for him to be looking at you like that.

No explanation, no justification, no reason for those jewel eyes to be glowering at you from across the tavern. For his fist to wrap around the mug of whatever he’s sipping on for show, pale skin going translucent in the dancing candlelight. For his entire chest having gone still the last several minutes, and for you to be unable to decipher if he’s simply too distracted to bother with the last of what remains of his living instincts or if it’s another instinct all on its own – if he’s holding his breath as he watches your conversation with Shadowheart.

Then again, there’s no real reason for you to be watching him back.

The matter of the fact is that you’re watching him just as closely, just as captivated by his presence from across the room, just to simply notice these things. The stillness in his shoulders and the glint that you swear must be his fangs poking past his lips should not be in your periphery. Your focus, all your attention, should be on the vibrant girl on the stool beside you. The dark beauty who’s speaking more with her hands than her lips, giggling over yet another glass of wine.

“You know,” she sighs wistfully, and you have to tear your gaze away from where it had wandered towards the vampire currently sulking away from the group, “The wine here in the city is much better than on the road.”

You hum as you distractedly take a sip from your own glass, tongue immediately peeking out to trace along your bottom lip subconsciously, as if you might be trying to savor the flavor. As if you can even taste the flavor. Your tongue has gone all but numb to the ruby liquid as a very different shade of red has captured your interest.

This could be the same wine from the druid party at the beginning of your journey, the party in which you snatched a bottle from the very shadow that is watching your every move, and you wouldn’t know the difference.

“It is,” you lie, swirling the red liquid a little bit, an attempt to bring back the taste all over your tongue.

And even if she buys your lie, Shadowheart can tell something is off, leaning in just a bit closer, peering at you just a little more concerningly, “Is everything okay? You don’t seem yourself.”

You don’t feel yourself. You should be feeling much more jubilant. You should be joining in on the same fun everyone else is having, toasting to yet another battle won. The end of it all was so close you could taste it.

And yet, you don’t. Because he’s in the corner brooding, and with him he’s seemingly taken both your mind and your mood.

“It’s been a long day,” It’s been one long day after another for months, it seems, “I suppose the wine is just making me relax a bit too much.”

That it is. The alcohol has managed to wiggle its way into your bloodstream, heading straight up your spine and to your brain. All your thoughts feather at the edge, and perhaps that was why you were watching Astarion back so intensely.

Months of this journey, and you still felt no closer to figuring him out than you had that very first night of discovering his vampirism. Each layer of him that you had peeled back only revealed more confusion to sit with. Some days, you swore you had him entirely figured out. You knew every in and every out of all his wits, and you knew all the steps to the dance in which he’d attempt to draw you into. You could play into whatever design he was spinning between the two of you; you could beat him at his own game.

But other days, days like today, you simply couldn’t.

All his flirtations, all his subtle seductions – you couldn’t decipher what was real and what was still for show. For every innuendo he’d whispered into your ear, he shared just as scandalous a comment with another party member. For every seemingly accidental graze of his cold skin against yours, he was attaching himself at the hip of another one of your companions. For all he gave, he would take just as much. Leaving you spinning in the hope of it all; leaving you with a yearning hunger that probably neared the threshold of his own vampiric hunger.

You want him. You hate him. He infatuates you. He irritates you. He is both sides of the same coin that has damned you every step along the way of this peculiar journey you’ve embarked on together.

“I know what you mean,” Shadowheart brings you back to reality with one swoop of her hair, a careful gathering of the locks to leave a shoulder exposed, “What is it that they always say? Wine is the secret ingredient for every bad decision?”

Your eyes trace carefully over her skin, the slope of where her neck meets her collarbone, the residual bruising leftover from the latest fight blooming beautifully over her. A welcome distraction.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever heard them say that,” you muse, a smile tugging on your lips, eyes still traveling. Up, up, up.

Over the line of her jaw, across the curve of her chin. Pillowy bottom lip and softly rounded nose. Softness – she’s made up of all soft and delicate features, such a contrast to someone such as Ast-

You must stop thinking about Astarion.

You’re no longer asking yourself of it, you’re demanding yourself of it. You make a point to move your body and head carefully, positioning yourself just so that the outline of the confusing vampire on your mind is entirely blocked out by Shadowheart’s silhouette.

“Oh, trust me – they say it all the time,” something simmers beneath Shadowheart’s returning grin, a sparkle in her eyes that should spark some sort of excitement in you. But it’s a hollow ache; you’re still painfully aware that he’s in the room, “Say, would you like to maybe… I don’t know, get out of here? I’m sure we could sneak some more of this exquisite wine to the room upstairs, perhaps find somewhere to relax together even more-”

“Oh, my dear Shadowheart, don’t you know that that would be thievery?”

His voice, so close and sudden, sucks all of the air out of your lungs.

“Astarion!” Shadowheart jumps a bit at his sudden appearance, but you hardly move a muscle. As though your body had been expecting him, as if you had always known the night was leading to this outcome, “I’m surprised to see you’ve given up your gloomy act to join us all. I thought you might sulk in the corner all night.”

His eyes lock on you, and the facade of his usual self seemingly melts. There’s something darker beneath the surface, an animal caged away, and you can see it as it bares its teeth, “Not sulking. Merely observing.”

You can’t speak. Your entire chest is still tight, lungs still deflated, by his proximity.

“Well, hard to tell the difference when you hide away in the darkness,” Shadowheart manages to get out before her lips press tightly together, clearly irritated at your companion.

She’d nearly had you. She had been giving you clear signals, doing away with any games of cats and mice, and she had nearly had you.

“It’s in my nature, I suppose,” his tone falls flatter than normal, the words void of all the airiness and usual cadence he accentuates.

He still has you far more enraptured than she’d ever stood a chance of accomplishing.

“We were just heading upstairs,” you blurt out, and Astarion’s eyebrows raise at your proclamation.

“Is that so?”

You don’t quite understand why, but you feel the need to over explain yourself, painfully aware of Shadowheart’s inquisitive gaze as she watches you fumble with your words, “Yes! I- I was just telling Shadowheart how tired I’ve grown. We were just calling it a night-”

“By stealing a bottle of wine?” his tone is growing sharper, and you squirm beneath what has almost become a glare. In an instant, he’s noticing all that discomfort, and you watch the facade be built back up in real time. Brick by brick, he once again resumes his usual role, voice raising a few octaves and a dangerous smirk returning, “And stealing our dearest cleric away from such a wonderful night of celebration? Nonsense! Allow me to accompany you instead, my sweet.”

The nickname rolls off his tongue as naturally as it always does. Sugary syllables, predatory purring. It almost reels you in until you remember the give and the take. The push and the pull.

Two sides, same coin. And you’ve yet to figure out the value of that coin.

“There’s no need for that-” Shadowheart begins to protest, but Astarion quickly cuts her off with a flourish of his hand.

“Please, I insist,” even with his words lightened, sweetened up the slightest bit, that animal still lingers below the tone. Shadowheart will not be accompanying you up to the room. That much you know. “You were clearly having such a good time. It’s truly no problem, I don’t mind watching after our fearless leader.”

“I don’t need to be babysat,” you snap, reactive like a dog threatened.

Like a dog cornered.

Yes, that was what you were. A rapid animal, backed up into a space, given no choice. Your heart was racing at the idea of being alone with Astarion. It was no longer a game of mental chess played across a busy tavern – it would be just you, just him, and all those terrible layers you had yet to decipher. It was a recipe for disaster. It was the perfect storm brewing, set for the destruction of you.

“I won’t be babysitting you, dear,” he smiles, and it looks more like a hungered sneer than a sign of genuinity, “Simply there, at your service, for whatever you may need.

I need you to leave me alone. I need our journey to be over so I can stop being your puppet to string along.

You wonder if the thought may have traveled over the tadpole bond and that was why his face falls, rather than your stubborn silence.

For a moment, you think Shadowheart is going to speak up. That possibly, she might just fight back against him, save you from the impending doom. But when her mouth opens, you hear the last possible thing you could have ached to have fallen from her lips.

“I… suppose I’ll be on my way then. Have a good night.”

Defeat.

It wraps around your name as she whispers it before she stands from her stool, unassuming to all your silent signals begging her to stay. Footsteps echoing over the commotion around you as she turns her back, and you feel the walls of this corner drawing in on you.

“I-” you start when you finally look back to Astarion, but he’s already reaching out to grab you.

“She’ll get over it,” he says harshly, pulling you along as if you were nothing. As though you weren’t digging your heels into the creaking floorboards below, as if you weren’t resisting him with every fiber of your being.

“Astarion- stop, I’m- I’m not worried about her,” you stutter out, cursing the way your voice falters, tugging against his grip on you, “Gods, why do you do that?”

The question has him halting at the foot of the stairs. The shadows encase the two of you as his eyes glow in the subtle darkness.

“Do what?”

“This.”

You wave your free hand in the space between the two of you wildly, as though that might suffice for explanation. But when Astarion only levels you with a blank stare, you know it won’t. You know it doesn’t.

“You pull me along, you push me away,” you continue, heart still racing wildly, breaths coming out short and fast, “You treat me like something special and then discard me, and the moment I seek out that genuine treatment from someone else, you’re back to collect me as your own personal play toy. I want to know why.”

For all the exasperation you feel, there’s a pride beneath it all. The pride of being able to articulate, the smugness of assuming you’ve left him speechless. You haven’t.

Today is not one of the days in which you can beat him at his own game.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he claims, chin lifting just an inch, eyes flitting towards the ceiling before making their way to the bar scene behind you. Anywhere but you. “I’ve done no such thing-”

“Bullshit,” you spit out, “Bull-fucking-shit. You’ve done it numerous times, Astarion. Do you not recall the night in which Gale had approached me, offering to teach me about the Weave, and how you’d interrupted-”

“Our dearest wizard would have bored you to death. It was a mercy to interject.”

“-or the night of the tiefling party, when Karlach had been on the verge of confessing something that seemed an awful lot like an admittance of liking me-”

“Karlach likes everyone. Have you seen the eyes she makes at Wyll?”

“-And how about the time when Lae’zel openly invited me to share a bed with her, and you’d overheard, and obnoxiously guffawed? Hm? What’s your excuse there?”

Finally, his grip has slackened on your wrist, allowing you to pull both arms tightly across your chest as you glare at him. Chest still heaving, mind still reeling.

He clearly doesn’t have a very good answer as his lips twitch briefly into a pathetic smile, fading quickly as he shrugs, “Well, I simply found the entire image conjured amusing.”

Your heart nearly stops, leaving your chest as empty a cavern as Astarion’s, “You find the image of someone wanting me, wanting to lay with me, amusing?”

And for all he plays dumb, Astarion is not a fool.

He catches the fall in your demeanor, the way your arms slowly drop and your entire face contorts with your frown. Damage has been done.

“No, wait, I-” he tries to begin damage control, but the damage has been done.

“Save it,” you cut him off, “I’m going upstairs now. You can continue on your moping down here in the shadows – I don’t need a babysitter.”

He almost looks as defeated as Shadowheart had when he’d intervened for a second, a second just long enough that you begin taking the long strides up the stairs. You think you’ve gotten the last word, for that eternity of a second. Making it all the way to the first platform, turning to take on the second set of stairs.

When suddenly, your back is flat against the wall behind you, a cold body pressed against the entirety of yours.

“I do not find it amusing,” Astarion huffs, those beady eyes suddenly staring right into yours, lips dangerously close to your own. The defeat has been long forgotten, “The image of you with the others – entranced by Gale’s magic, giggling by the fire with Karlach, on your knees for Lae’zel – is not amusing,” his hands are tight on your hips, bruising grip keeping you pinned with no escape. His body rolls, every inch of his clothed skin beginning to press against your own, “You, laying with anyone else, is the farthest thing from amusing, darling.”

His head tilts in warning, forehead nearly pressed to yours, the end of his nose bumping against yours. You can feel every unnecessary breath he takes. Every huff of his sudden irritation invades your space, and all you can do is attempt to turn your head.

One of his hands is quick to reach up, pinching your chin between his thumb and pointer. You want to look away, but he won’t allow it.

“Would you like to know the truth?”

A loaded question. A ticking time bomb when it comes to this game between the two of you.

You decide to set the fuse aflame when you nod your stiff head against his pinching grip.

“The truth is,” he takes a deep breath, one you know he doesn’t need. He’s sucking all the air out of the room, air he has no need for, before his heavy eyes pour into yours. You’re blinded, all visions of red and smoky warning signs, the chatter of the tavern faded to nothing, “the image of you laying with anyone else absolutely infuriates me.”

Anyone else.

You open your mouth to respond, not even sure what you could possibly say to that, but it’s Astarion’s lips on yours that kills all words on your tongue.

There are no witnesses. Not a single soul below can see as he all but devours you, hungry lips melding to yours in desperation. The shadows he had been taunted for haunting for the night now serve as a veil, allowing you to cling to what’s left of your dignity. If anything, it feels as though he might be controlling the shadows, beckoning them to come and wrap the two of you up as his arm sneaks behind your back, pulling your body tightly to his as he chooses to steal the breath directly from your lungs now.

The push, the pull – the coin. The value, it seems, is finally coming to light.

Through the kiss, you can feel the damnation of all the emotions Astarion must have been holding back for the journey. All the want, all the yearning, all the anger, all the confusion – every single emotion you’ve been battling, breaking the surface as his fangs nip at your bottom lip.

It takes more willpower than you’d expected to shove him away.

“Astarion-” you gasp out, taking gulps of air into your burning lungs.

“Tell me to walk away,” he begs, body still aligned with yours, hands still clinging to you, “Tell me to leave you alone, and this time, I’ll obey.”

Your tongue can’t move. The depths of his whispers, his pleads, are ringing in your bones, and you can’t say the words he asks of you.

“Say it,” he presses on, his fingers only digging deeper into your hips. You can’t tell if they’ve gone numb from the chill of his fingers, or from the lack of circulation due to his strength, “Just say it, and I’ll do it. Say anything. I’m yours to command.”

You should tell him to walk away. You should call off the game of cat and mouse. You should save what’s left of your soul for someone else, anyone else, who won’t send your head spinning with a plethora of mixed signals.

“Room. Now.”

Of course, you don’t.

The game was never one-sided. It was never you, a merciful victim of Astarion, always trapped in his shadows. It’s a game for two – and you’ve earned your blame in it all, the same as Astarion.

And you continue to earn it as your hands tangle up in the snowy curls at the nape of his neck, silvery strands slipping between aching knuckles, lips attaching themselves to his porcelain skin as he guides you up that final flight of stairs. You’re not thinking of Shadowheart, not thinking of anything delicate or soft. Harsh clashes of teeth, harsh bites to rebuttal his fangs against you, harsh fingers digging into soft meat, harsh red lines left behind across his skin that fade away too quickly for your liking.

Harsh, harsh, harsh.

All your tensions and frustrations are put into the meshing, and you hardly notice once Astarion’s gotten the two of you through the threshold of the shared room. Everyone else is still downstairs, still celebrating, still cheersing and chatting away. Completely unaware of your demise. Oblivious to what’s about to happen.

Anyone else.

It’s been a long time coming.

You can see flashes of it in your mind as he carries you with him, door locked behind his back before he’s finding one of the vacated beds to lay you down onto. The night you’d discovered his vampiric nature, the night you had been his mirror with his scars, all the times in which he’d blatantly saved your ass during fights. The blurry figure that is your savior, conveniently getting between you and goblins or shadows alike as he buries his daggers to the hilt. Always there, always watching.

Always yearning.

Your heads sing in tune as that tadpole connection comes to life, like an exposed nerve as you feel it all reciprocated from him tenfold. Flashes of yourself, with soft eyes and gentle words. Patient palms and charming smiles. A pulling gravity so grandiose that it sparks sheer fear.

The room is quiet save for your gasps every time Astarion’s lips leave yours long enough to allow for breathing, the ruffling of clothing and bed sheets filling the air soon enough. Just quiet enough you can hone in on that fear, dig your claws into it instead of his back, focused entirely on following it all the way down.

More memories of his overriding yours. His exposure of Cazador, his admittance of his past. All the trust he put into you – all the faith he’d blindly handed over to you on a silver platter, only reminiscing and regretting once he was left to his own devices at the end of the day.

And then came the jealousy.

You’d already felt enough of it through his kisses and movements – the way he pins your body beneath his, the way his fangs graze your exposed neck – but it nearly drowns you once the connection has opened the floodgates.

The image of you and Gale, and a twist in your gut like no other. Incomparable to even vampiric hunger.

The image of you and Lae’zel, and a burn in the back of your throat that drives you beyond reason.

The glimpse of you and Karlach, and the urgency rising in your chest to simply stop it. To pull the brakes, not once considering the consequences.

Every small moment between you and someone else – companions, strangers, those who have helped along the way – is given to you from Astarion’s point of view. You feel all that he has felt; you burn as he has burned.

You feel a glimmer of understanding, a pitiful ounce of sympathy, but then you remember all that you have felt. All that confusion, all that unsureness. Every time you’ve had to question the glances the vampire offers in your direction or double back on his words.

He’d done it to himself. You had to remember that – he’d done it to himself every single step of the way.

“You could have said something,” you whisper out as his lips travel down the path of your neck, sharp tips of his fangs pressing to your pulse but not quite breaking skin, “You could have just told me.”

He’s lithe as a cat above you, each scrap of clothing being removed between the two of you exposing more of your bare flesh to the chill of his. You can feel all those muscles beneath his surface, and you can feel the hesitation as you say this. The freeze – the pause.

“You make it sound so simple.”

The fangs scrape at your jugular as he whispers it, mouth shaking as he uses all his self-constraint to not simply bite down. Taste your sweet blood, let it sing on his tongue rather than this conversation you can tell is setting fire to all his anxieties. He doesn’t want to talk.

You’re not even sure if you want to talk.

But you do, with the weight of him between your hips and his hands dancing along your torso. Your head is thrown back as you sigh, “It could be.”

It could be simple, it could have been simple this entire time, if only he’d allow it.

He’s had you dancing beneath his spell since the moment you’d met him. You had offered yourself over to him, time and time again, knowing all the costs. Despite the warnings from others, and despite all the sirens sounding off in your head every time your eyes had met his, you’d still pined. Still fantasized what this current moment might taste like as you’d lay in your tent at night, still chased after his attention across Faerun. If he had just directly said the word rather than stringing you along, burning in private – you would have been his far sooner than now. He could have had you in the palm of his hands long before he’d ever spotted the Gate of the city.

He has you now, though. Entirely encapsulated, bending to every whim of his fingertips.

A flick of his wrist, and you’re exposing more of your neck. A nudge of his knee, and you’re arching your back to press more of yourself against him. Offering your skin, offering your soul, offering your blood. A silent temptation for him to simply devour you whole; a silent begging to not complicate things more than what was necessary.

You had both been in the wrong. He had sent mixed signals, and you had been complicit in your own silence.

And right now, you weren’t particularly in the mood to rehash and reassign blame.

“Show me how simple it could be,” his voice is muffled against your skin, lips velvet against your pulse. It nearly frustrates you – was that not what you were currently doing? Were you not proving to him just how easily he could unravel you with those cold, cold palms? “Go ahead, darling. Prove me wrong.”

You’re not the one meant to take an action, though. Your hands fly up, fisting at his white curls, and you apply pressure to let him sink deeper into your skin, but you’re not the one who can break the barrier.

It’s him that must – his fangs must do it. The first bite, the smallest of sips.

Your blood trickles past his lips and you let out a sigh. As if this was what you were waiting for, as if this was all that it took. Your vitality draining slowly to invigorate him, your breath becoming his, your heart now beating for both of you.

He must feel it. He must taste it.

The simple entanglement of the living and unliving. How simple it was to become his.

You swear you only allow your heart to race as it does to encourage your blood to pump faster onto his eager tongue. He laps at it, hums at the taste, his grip on you becoming stronger with each pass of the ichor. Each passing second with his mouth glued to the side of your neck isn’t marked with the tick of a clock, but the roll of his hips, and your own desperate legs shaking in those precious moments between, cursed to choose between tightening shut around his hips or spreading wider to encourage more of him to occupy you.

Just as you start to feel light-headed, he pulls back. Wide and vibrant scarlet eyes boring into yours, fangs tinged pink with you poking against his bottom lip.

The tadpole connection has gone silent. Not due to either of you cutting it off entirely, but due to the lack of thoughts transpiring. Both your minds have gone quiet, and all that’s left is the warm buzz of knowing you’re connected. Static that you can feel at the back of your head, running down your spine, all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes.

Simple. Mind-numbingly simple.

You can feel the spark of something snapping after only a few moments of eye-contact, and you know it’s the ember that blazes within him as his next few actions transpire. Messy kisses leaving behind a trail of pink spit along your skin, hands no longer grappling at you mindlessly but with intention. He slips them between your thighs, a finger trailing down your cunt in time with his tongue down your sternum. What might be a memorized dance to him has become an entirely unknown experience to you, body buzzing with the novelty when his fingertip’s cool caress circles your clit before he slips down to your hole. It’s seamless – the stretch, the crook of his knuckle against you as he sinks deeper, the relief in the curl of your toes.

“You’re not another mindless dance,” he murmurs as he sinks deeper and lower, an unnecessary breath escaping him across your lower abdomen.

He’d heard it. He’d heard all of your thoughts at the moment.

You peer down at the ethereal sight of him between your thighs, his hair and mouth seemingly shimmering with all the stars and moon itself, “No?”

“No,” his voice is strong as he lets the tip of his nose press against you, mouth creeping closer to where two fingers now pump within you, “You’re not like the others.”

He doesn’t elaborate, even as the haunting question of who the others might be echoes within you. He completely distracts you as his fingers slip from your cunt and his tongue begins its work, worshiping you with every flick of it. Nose, tongue, breath – they all work in conglomeration as the unraveling truly begins. Every ounce of you is tensing, combating all the relief of having his mouth on you, as he pushes you closer and closer to a precipice you’ve only dreamed of him guiding you to.

The suckle of his lips. The cut of his fangs when he gets a bit too excited. The lap of a tongue like a dog worshiping at your altar. It’s all almost a bit much.

When your hands travel to entangle in his hair, you can feel the hesitation. For a moment, you believe he might reach up to take your touch away. Force you to grasp at the bed sheets, at the edge of the mattress, at the frame above your head. Anywhere but him.

But he doesn’t.

The pause only lasts a few seconds before he’s returning to his mitigations, even more intent than before. Words that could never be spoken between the two of you take the shape of his lips around your clit, sucking almost as hard as he had at your neck. An animal seemingly overtakes him, his mouth not leaving you for the mortal necessity of breathing, but rather for something harsher; he breaks away only for his fingers to slide back within you, and immediately takes to biting at your thighs.

It isn’t like he had done to your neck. This time, he’s not chasing after your blood. Nips and fuller bites, not just his sharpened canines sinking into fletch but his front teeth as well.

These aren’t bites to drink from you. These are bites to claim you.

He lines your legs with them, scattered sporadically as he shifts himself up and down. From the apex of your thigh down to your ankle, there’s hardly an inch of your skin that doesn’t paint with Astarion’s touch. The bite marks, lingering outlines of his hands clinging to your flesh, patient hickies left throughout.

You’re mine.

The message is clear enough whether you had seen it in his actions, or if he had sent it through the bond. You understand well what point he is making.

The point stands stronger and stronger when he works his way back up your body. He offers your hips the same worshiping treatment, leaves his imprints across your chest as well. A few marks brand your shoulders and neck, matching the two pricks that started this entire devourment.

“Do you have any idea of the hold you have upon me?” he sighs out as he holds himself above your body, hovering just close enough that your skin jumps as the skin of his abdomen brushes your own, “Our entire journey, I have been so focused on… on freedom, on abandoning the concept of ever being controlled…” he trails off, and when he looks into your eyes this time, you can see something clicking into place. A fearsome realization. “Only to end up in the thralls of your beck and call.”

You hold your breath and await the inevitable. This is the part where he runs. Where he removes his flesh from yours, where he jumps across the room and surely spits out some sarcastic remark. It’s the time in which he is meant to break all the hope that had been built over the minutes spent alone. He’ll make some nonchalant remark, or a crude joke, and he’ll go make eyes at some other poor fool below. He’ll cast his spell over someone else, anyone else. He’ll leave you, wanting and yearning and hopeless, once more.

His body stays above yours, the thin fabric of space shaking between you two.

With a trembling hand, warm against his skin, you take a chance, “I’m not your master, Astarion.”

You aren’t.

You have no desire to control him the way he describes. You would curse the day should you ever become something even comparable to being a placeholder for Cazador. He isn’t telling you anything new; you’ve known his end goal of this entire journey. Astarion has always wanted one thing and one thing only – freedom.

And you thought you’d been helping him. Following him blindly through the woes, helping him achieve his ultimate goal wholeheartedly. Never for a single second had you assumed the role he’s seemingly given you.

A short laugh escapes him, the smallest of smiles flitting his face, “No. No, you aren’t. And that only enthralls me further.”

His lips descend upon yours in a fervent fashion, even more desperate than before. It feels as if he’s actually trying to devour you whole this time – it feels as though he might actually accomplish melding you into his existence, sinking you right into the marrow of his hollow bones.

When his cock sinks into your heat, it’s ecstasy. Euphoria. Everything you’ve been wishing for. Everything you’d been hoping for. You stretch around him, just as you had his fingers, body eager to take in every last inch of him. The buzz becomes a roar and your entire body feels as though it might be on fire. You want more, you need more, and he’s more than willing to give it.

More, more, more.

His hips roll agonizingly slow against yours, making sure every movement is felt across every nerve ending within your body. Deep within your gut, down along your thighs, all the way up your chest. You feel him everywhere – he makes sure of it.

Centuries, his voice curls through your mind like dark smoke. For centuries, this body has felt tainted. Never quite mine, never quite clean.

His hands are shaking as he lets them caress down your sides, over your hips, clinging for support.

You take that feeling away.

The words are heavy, the press of his chest over you heavier. Your own hands wander, and you make a point to avoid the scars on his back. The ones hardly deciphered, the ones that have tied him to a fate you refuse to let him succumb to. No amount of jealousy, no amount of spite, can reverse that ardent decision within your mind.

You’re not an old coat, Astarion. You whisper it back, along the bond, your physical mouth gaping wide open as you tilt your head back into the pillow, feeling yourself tighten around him. You’re not a worn pair of boots. You’re a person.

A terrible mon-

You cut off his rebuttal, a complicated person. Snarky, indecisive, too flirtatious for your own good. But still a person, and still worthy.

Two simple words, and they send shudders through his entire body. Still worthy. You don’t look at him as something to be discarded or owned; you don’t envision him as a prize or a trophy. And you certainly don’t see only his flaws when you look at him. When his ruby eyes meet yours, both his and your own eyelashes flutter ridiculously as all the pressure mounts, the blush of your blood across his cheeks and running down his throat, you both know. You don’t need to put it into words.

Even when he infuriated you. Even when he made you second-guess his companionship in the beginning. Even when he made you swoon like a schoolgirl only to divert his attention. Never once have you fully faulted him for the mistakes.

He’s done bad things. You’ve all done terrible things. And yet, you still want him.

He’s worth more than the sum of his worst moments, even if he hadn’t bedded you tonight. You would still help slay Cazador. You would still fight tooth and claw for his freedom.

You love him. You hate him. You hate to love him, you love to hate him. It’s all smoke and mirrors at the end of the day when you’re feeling the weight of him collapse on top of you. And it’s mutual. The complicated, infuriating emotions are all reciprocated.

Every inch of your skin stings with the lingerance of his fangs and lips, gasps and mews slipping between your lips as he picks up his pace. His fingers dig into the meat of your thighs and hips in a failing attempt to pull your body back to his, the reciprocation languid in every stroke. Every slap of his skin against yours, every moan of his own – they mingle in the air and spell out the inevitability of this moment. You swear you feel his sharp nails nick you, a bead of blood no doubt bubbling and staining the sheets below.

You don’t care. He doesn’t, either.

Your whine echoes through the empty room right along with a harsh grunt from him. He’s ravaging you. Bruising you inside and out.

“Fuck, Astarion,” you gasp out, giving up using the bond. Your mind has melted far too much for coherent thoughts as both your breaths quicken, both abdomens tightening as you feel him reach even deeper inside your cunt, “Fuck.”

You can feel him letting go just as it feels as though your body might give out. Blissful soreness hidden behind a curtain of pleasure that turns your vision white. You almost wonder if your body had been simply a vessel for his own pleasure this entire time.

You wouldn’t mind if it had been, but he’s made damn sure it isn’t.

You’ve never felt quite as cared for as when his hips stutter, feeling warmth fill your fluttering cunt as his open mouth places random kisses anywhere they can reach. His head falls to the crook of your neck and you can feel his tired lips pressing repetitively over your marked neck, your shoulder. They even graze the original bite mark, and the simple action sends shockwaves through you to join the rest of the residual quakes that keep your legs shaking around his waist.

The bedlinen sticks to your skin from a mixture of blood and sweat as he collapses next to you for a moment, still curling up to you like a cat. Nose running along your bare shoulder, lips still reaching out for you.

It takes you a second, but when you finally catch your breath, you can’t help but ask the dreaded question, “Does this mean you’re officially mine?”

His chuckle is unexpected, vibrating against your chest as he rolls most of his weight off you and lifts his head, “Have I not made that much obvious?”

“I just needed to make sur-”

He cuts off all your hesitation, lifting the entirety of his upper body now, “Allow me to make this very clear to you, darling. I have been yours since the moment you reacted to me holding a dagger to your throat with a damned headbutt.”

You smile sheepishly, “So you’re telling me when I did that… I knocked some sense into you?”

“Never,” he scoffs, waving a hand, the only sign of his own fatigue to match yours being the way he drops back down at your side. You don’t miss the faint smile gracing his lips, “But it was an impressive move. Quite enchanting for this old heart of mine.”

“So now you admit that you’re old?” you joke, prodding at an inside joke that had been ongoing since he’d admitted the entirety of his vampiric nature to you. He’d always pouted like a child at any mention of his age, but he’d always allowed only you to get away with any jabs at it. Your entire group still doesn’t speak of his reaction to Gale trying his hand at one of the jokes, “Goodness, what has gotten into you, my Star?”

He flushes at the nickname, eyes diverting as he slowly creeps his body up the bed, face to face with you now. Your heart tightens a bit when he takes his time replying, swallowing hard, tongue peeking out instinctively as he runs it over his lips and fangs slowly.

You almost believe he won’t look you in the eyes again, but he does. As he says the heaviest words yet, he looks to you as if you’re the only thing in the room for this moment.

“I care for you,” his voice comes out tight, nearly strained. “Deeply. You make me want to be… a better… man, monster, whatever I might be. And if that’s a crime?” he pauses, and takes another one of those pesky deep breaths that you’re well aware aren’t vital to him. A glimmer of the human, the person, beneath the self-proclaimed monster. “Well, I haven’t been much of a rule follower thus far in our journey anyways, have I?”

You pay no mind to his joking tone, seeing the words for what they are. Your hand reaches up, fingers carding through silver waves, and you can’t help your grin when he doesn’t swat you away as he had done Shadowheart for the exact same show of affection the week before.

I adore you, Astarion.

Quiet words. Silent words. Only for the two of you, within the confines of a shared mine.

He clears his throat uncomfortably, “Mind you, I may need some time, given all the memories this wretched city brings-”

“Take all the time you need,” you interrupt. From the second he’d opened up to you, offering that vulnerability in the heat of the moment regarding his body, you’d seen this coming. “I can wait for you, my love. Let’s just focus on surviving all this, yeah?”

He can’t hide his affection. It’s written plainly on his face, it travels clearly across the bond.

“Yes,” he whispers back, reaching for your wrist finally, but only to hold it placid as he turns his lips towards it. You think for a moment he might bite you one final time, and you’d let him, but he surprises you. No fangs appear – only the softest of kisses against the most vulnerable of skin. “Survival. Of course.”

It’s not so much words as it is an image, a promise, that comes to mind from him. The fluttering of a future he sees being possible, the threat of a city burned down should any harm come to you.

“And no more jealousy,” you croak out, trying to not be overwhelmed by his own emotions mixing with yours. “You’re mine, and I’m yours.”

Another kiss to your wrist, this one far quicker, far more habitual than the first. He’s kissing you simply because he can.

You know there’s more behind his smile when he whispers, “Oh, of course, lover.”

And you find out later on the reason for such a mischievous smile, once he’s cleaned you both up and migrated for you two to rest in his claimed bed. When Shadowheart is the first of the group to enter the room, confronted with the image of you curled up on Astarion’s chest as his fingers dance over your aching skin, you don’t even have to wake up properly to see the vision of a smug Astarion through your dreary eyes.

Words are exchanged, but they’re lost to you in your sleepy state. You only catch the ones that matter.

“Astarion! Are those bite marks-”

“Mine?” if you were any more conscious, you would have scolded him. He knows it, too, as he squeezes you closer to him, “Why, yes. Yes, they are, our dearest Shadowheart.”

Shadowheart’s huff of breath tells you all you need to know about Astarion’s smirk. You’ll talk more of jealousy in the morning.

#ghost's writing #kinktober #week 1: vampiric desires #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion smut #astarion x tav

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cheriladycl01 · 2 days

Text

Kinktober 03/10/2024 Daniel Ricciardo- Hate Sex

Plot: You and Daniel get into a massive argument when he comes home after a race in a pissy mood for the 3rd time in a row.

Warnings: Kinktober, SMUT, eating out, oral (f-receiving), arguments between reader and Daniel, hate sex etc 18+ Minors DNI

The first time, it was a DNF where he’d collided on track in a fight for 3rd place with Perez. He’d come home, ignored you and the meal you’d cooked for him, got changed and went straight back out. You guys didn’t talk until the next morning, where things were a little tense until he cracked a joke and all was forgiven.

After that race you came with him and it was one of his best races, he was so happy and cheerful celebrating with you and all his friends at a points finish and with the podium sitters of the day. It was very fun.

The second time, it was the team giving him wrong orders and ending up with a cooling issue on the car that set him all the way back in 18th place. This time he didn’t even bother coming home and went out with Lando and Max for a week before coming back and acting like everything was okay. Of course you were a little hurt, but decided against bringing it up to him as you guys were okay!

The third time and it was a rookie mistake on his part, he went into a corner car to quick and didn’t break quick enough meaning his car was in the wall and his race was over.

He come home instantly this time, getting into Max’s jet with him on the Sunday straight after the race and ending up home at a decent hour.

He came stomping in through the door, his suitcase hauled through and left in the entrance way as he started to walk straight past you. You step in his way managing to stop him now that he was in your line of vision.

“Mmmmm yeah no way, not happening” you say to him crossing your arms.

“Please get out of my way” he says looking over you with an unimpressed look as to why you were actively stoping him from getting to your guys room.

“No Daniel, I’m sick of this! Everytime you have a shit race for whatever reason you become … I dunno Elsa or some shit. I’m sick of you running out on me when you can’t man up and fucking talk to me about this and think it’s better to run away, making me feel like ass and then come back the next day and act like nothing is wrong. It’s exhausting and I’m not doing this again. So we’re talking right here right now” you say pointing to the floor with your hands that had helped you embellish your points as you were speaking.

“That’s what you think this all is?” He asks his head cocking to the side, frustration still evident on his face but with who or what you are none the wiser.

“Well it’s fucking clear it is. When I have a bad day at work, you’re quite literally the first and only person I want to interact with. I get being angry but I can’t keep going on like this if you keep having bad races!” You explain trying to remain calm.

“Are you saying I’m not going to improve? Maybe this is why I don’t come to you, because you could never ever understand something as complex as Formula One and how much pressure there is from the team and other drivers. You could never understand what I deal with every day” he shouts at you an angry look in his face.

“You know what, maybe I don’t. But I won’t because you never seem to talk to me anymore. It’s so frustrating Daniel because I’m trying to be there for you but you won’t let me!” You shouts back, tears starting to roll down your cheeks.

“Maybe I don’t want you too! Maybe I’m so sick of your constant nagging and preening seeing if I’m okay and shit and maybe just maybe I don’t want that” he says, his face like thunder. Your eyes are so wet that you actually cannot see the instant look of regret on his face as he says that.

To you that was like he’d basically just said he no longer loved you. Daniel was the centre of your world and it revolved around him, Daniel was your everything and for him not to appreciate all you do for him and reciprocate those feeling was hurtful.

“I hate you so much right now” you cry turning away and running up the stairs to your shared bedroom. Daniel follows storming after you, he pushes you against the wall, anger evident on his face.

“Don’t walk away from me, and don’t fucking say that” he says almost glaring at you.

“Well, I wouldn’t lie to you. You’ve exhausted me these last few weeks and I cannot do it anymore” you cry looking at him with a frown, your brows furrowing in disgust.

You both just stare at each other for a little until Daniel leans forward and kisses you roughly. You are shocked for a second trying to push him away but his arms encase you against the wall, leaving you nowhere to go.

You guys eventually go into an intense make out session. Daniels tongue exploiting every cavern of your mouth while all you can do is lean your head against the wall and let him.

As much as you were irritated with him right now, and hated how he was acting, you couldn’t deny that you’d missed his close contact and the intimacy.

“I still hate you” you say looking at him with a fierce look in his eyes, almost like a challenge to see just how far he would go. And without a word he lifts you up chucking you into the bed. He crawls up to you, spreading your legs open, pulling your shorts and panties down in one and he leans down to kiss and bite your inner thighs.

A hand comes across to cover your mouth, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how good he was making you feel just from light contact on your inner thighs.

The minute he started to lick strips up your slit you were done for, his large nose bumping your clit making you squirm and a breathy gasp leaving your lips.

“You still hate me gorgeous? Because you don’t sound like you do?” He smirks diving back in and eating you out like a 5 course meal in a 3 star Michelin restaurant.

“Danny” you cry and he just laughs into your creating more incredible vibrations.

“Still hate me? I dare you to say it” he asks and there was still a petty part of you that was so upset be annoyed with him that you couldn’t even understand your own emotions right now?

Was it hate?

“Yes I do” you answered, but Daniel could here the confusion in your voice.

“Maybe I just need to fuck the hate out of you huh?” He asks coming up from your clit, his fingers dipping in making your gasp and grab his wrist making eye contact as he come up to kiss you on the lips, making you able to taste yourself in his lips.

“How does that sound? Letting me take all my frustrations out on you” he says as he speeds up his fingers inside you. He takes them out, licking them clean before pulling his own jeans and boxers down letting his dick spring free.

“Or how about I take MY frustrations out on you” you say flipping his round and straddling him. Holding him down by his shoulders.

He just smirks up at you, hands going behind his head as he relaxes with your weight on top of him.

“Gone if then baby girl. Do your worst” he says and before he can say anymore your mounting him, slipping down onto him bouncing up and down. Your hands find their way to his hair as you grip his curls and his find their way to your exposed boobs, letting them fill his hands as he starts to tweak and play with your peaked nipples.

“Fuck Dan, why’d you have to ignore me” you all but moan as you speed up and Daniel starts to thrust up to meet your bounces.

“I didn’t wanna fucking hurt you, I knew I’d say something nasty to you coz I was hacked off” he gasps out as he grips your hips, helping you bounce.

“You’re so stupid” you cry, out looking at him as you clench round him and fall into him having no more energy. Daniels thrusts become sloppy and he eventually slows down, with one big thrust before emptying himself inside you.

“Still hate me?” He smiles as he pulls you into him for a hug, his breathing ragged as he looks down at you.

“Always” you smile, pulling him into a sweet kiss.

“Damn, we need to have more sex when your angry” he sighs, wiping the sweat away from his forehead.

“No way had my sexiness bested a high performance athlete” you laugh, looking over at him. And he can’t help but laugh too.

“Mmmmm of course you have” he answers.

“But next time, you talk to me okay? I swear I’m not doing this again Daniel” you say seriously and he rolls his eyes with a small pout.

“But your so hot and sexy when you hate me” he pouts making you shake your head laughing before lightly slapping his shoulder.

Taglist:

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valkyriexo · 2 days

Text

HEART OF HATE | Bang Chan

ᑉ³pairing; bf chan x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Angst, Smut

ᑉ³warnings; SMUT MDNI,Jealousy, dirty talk, swearing, P in V, unprotected sex , fingering,arguments, mentions of hate. manipulative chan. veryyyyy toxic chan. use of 'slut', 'good girl' , hair pulling, gagging, Smut. SMUTTT minors do NOT interact This chan is not a very good person read at your own risk!

ᑉ³Authors Note; Part or kinktober collab with @dandelions-143 Kinktober masterlist

The air crackles with tension as you and Chan face off, hearts racing and voices tight with anger. You can’t believe this is where your relationship has led, but here you are, standing in the middle of the bedroom, emotions on a razor’s edge.

"Why didn’t you tell me you were hanging out with her?" you snap, your voice shaking with rage. The words taste bitter on your tongue, every syllable laced with the resentment that’s been building for weeks. "I had to hear it from someone else—again. "

Chan’s face tightens, but you don't let up, the fury burning through you too strong to stop. "I trusted you. I trusted you, and you’re sneaking around with her of all people? I can’t even trust what you’re doing when I’m not around! How many times are you going to sneak around with her behind my back?"

“You’re blowing this out of proportion—”

"No, I’m not," you cut him off, stepping closer, your voice growing louder. "I’m not stupid, Chan. This isn’t the first time! You’ve been sneaking around with her, and you expect me to believe it’s just innocent?”

His eyes narrow, jaw tightening defensively. “Because she's just a friend. Why can’t you get that through your head?"

“A friend?” you scoff bitterly, your laugh sharp and cold. “If she’s just a friend, why hide it? Why let me find out from someone else, like I’m the outsider in my own relationship?” Your voice wavers, caught between the anger and the hurt threatening to choke you. "Do you even hear yourself? How am I supposed to believe anything you say?"

"I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d react like this!” He replies bitterly.

Your heart pounds as disbelief courses through you, the fury bubbling up again. "You’re hanging out with her behind my back, keeping it a secret, and you think I’m overreacting?"

The hurt laces through your words, but the anger is stronger. "If it’s so innocent, why lie? Why not just tell me? Do you think I wouldn’t notice? That I wouldn’t care that you’re sneaking off with her when you know I don’t trust her?"

Chan’s expression hardens. “She’s just my friend. You’re reading into this way too much.”

"Then why are you keeping it from me?" you fire back, eyes narrowing. "Friends don’t have to sneak around, Chan. You’re hiding it because you know it’s wrong. You knew how I’d feel, and you did it anyway."

Your voice cracks, the betrayal cutting deep. "What am I supposed to think? That you just happened to forget to mention her every time you sneak off to see her?"

The room is thick with silence as you stare him down, the weight of everything he hasn’t said, everything he’s been hiding, hanging heavy between you. Chan’s eyes flicker with guilt, but his jaw tightens, and his hands ball into fists at his sides. “It’s not like that—” he starts, but you cut him off, your voice raw and trembling.

“Not like what?!” you snap, your heart pounding so hard it’s all you can hear. “You always have some excuse, don’t you? ‘It’s not like that.’ ‘You’re overreacting.’ But I’m done with your lies!”

“I’m tired of being the last one to know,” you continue, voice rising. “Do you even care about how this feels? Do you even care about us?”

He takes a step back, running a hand through his hair, but it only fuels your fury.

He scoffs, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Wow, look at you, making yourself the victim. It’s pathetic.”

The word stings, sharp and biting, like a slap across the face. Your chest tightens as you glare at him, trying to swallow the hurt, but it only fuels the fire burning inside you.

"Pathetic? Are you kidding me?" You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to keep some semblance of composure, but your voice shakes with the effort. "This isn’t about playing the victim, Chan. You keep dismissing my feelings like they’re nothing, like I don’t even matter."

“I can’t just stop hanging out with people because you have issues with them!” Chan snaps, his voice sharp, eyes blazing with frustration. “What, do you want me to check in with you every single time I see someone? I’m not your prisoner!”

Your anger flares, the heat of his words igniting something deeper in you. You can’t believe he’s twisting it like this.

“This isn’t about control or keeping tabs on you! It’s about being respectful of our relationship, of me!”

“You’re so self-absorbed! I can’t believe you’re trying to manipulate me into choosing between you and my friends!” Chan shouts, his voice rising to a near scream, the sharp edge of his anger cutting through the air.

I’m not trying to control you, Chan! I’m trying to communicate! I’m trying to get you to understand how this makes me feel, and you need to stop acting like I’m the problem here!”

His face twists, and when he speaks again, his words are venomous, each syllable laced with contempt. “Maybe if you weren’t so insecure, this wouldn’t even be an issue! It's exhausting, you know that? Always whining about how I should act, how I should feel, what I should do!”

Your heart pounds in your chest, a raw, painful ache spreading through you as his words sink in. "Whining?" you echo, disbelief coloring your tone. "Is that what this is to you? I’m whining because I want to feel respected in our relationship?"

“All i'm saying is that if you can’t handle me having friends, then maybe you’re the one who needs to figure out what you want! I’m not going to tiptoe around your insecurities!” He glares at you, his frustration reaching a boiling point. “You’re impossible! I can’t keep catering to your ridiculous expectations!”

The words hang in the air, and for a split second, you hesitate, the weight of the situation crashing over you. But the anger is too strong, the pain too raw.

“Maybe we should just break up then!” you shout, the words searing through the room, a final, burning accusation. They slip out before you can stop them, and the moment they do, everything falls silent. You don’t even pause to consider the implications, the anger in your chest too all-consuming to hold back.

His expression hardens, but there’s a flicker of pain that flashes across his face, quickly masked by anger. He opens his mouth, then closes it again, the words caught in his throat. The silence feels like a weight pressing down on you both.

"Fuck you! FUCK YOU CHAN. I’m tired of fighting for someone who doesn’t even care about my feelings!" You push forward, fueled by the heat of the moment. “Take all your things and go! I never want to see you again!”

His eyes widen, disbelief etched across his features. “You’re kicking me out of our house? Where am I supposed to go in the middle of the night?”

Your anger flares again, and you shoot back, “Go to her! Since you’re sneaking around with her anyway, I’m sure she’d love to have you!”

The accusation stings, and he glares at you, his voice rising. “This isn’t about her! You’re the one who’s making this a bigger deal than it is!”

“Then what is it about, Chan? You don’t care about me, and you don’t care how this feels! It’s all about you and your precious friends!”

“Stop trying to paint me as the villain,” he scoffs, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It's not her fault youu dont trust me!"

“I’m the one who’s been honest with you!” you scream, the words spilling out in a desperate rush. “You’re the one sneaking around and lying! I hate this! I hate you! I hate everything about how you treat me, how you act like I’m the problem! I hate you for doing this to us!”

Chan’s eyes widen, and for a moment, he looks taken aback, as if your words have struck him harder than any physical blow could. The heat of your anger hangs in the air, but now there’s something else—fear. Fear that he might lose you for good.

“Wait, stop,” he says, his voice suddenly quieter, almost pleading. “You don’t really mean that, do you? You can’t hate me!”

“GET OUT!” you scream, the words tearing from your throat like a wild animal escaping a cage. The intensity of your emotions threatens to consume you, leaving no room for mercy or second chances. “Get out! Just go!”

But before you can turn away, Chan strides forward, determination etched into his features. He grabs your arms, holding you in place as he looks deep into your eyes, desperation flooding his voice. “Look at me,” he demands, his gaze piercing through the fog of anger and hurt. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want me anymore, and I’ll go.”

The world around you seems to blur, his grip grounding you even as your heart races. You want to scream, to push him away, but something in the intensity of his gaze keeps you rooted in place.

“Chan…” is all you manage to say.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you hate me, and I’ll leave. I'll leave you alone and I won't bother you anymore,” he repeats, his expression a mix of desperation and fear, as if he’s bracing himself for the worst.

You open your mouth, but the words are lodged in your throat, heavy and suffocating. “I-I...."

The truth is, despite everything that’s happened, you don’t truly hate him. You hate what he’s done, how he’s made you feel, but your heart still aches for him.

"I-... Chan please." You beg, hoping he would let up on his grip.

“Please, just tell me,” he pleads, his voice softer now, as if he can sense your struggle. He gets closer, his lips now centimeters away from your ear. You can feel his breath, warm and shaky.

“I...I....I can’t,” you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper, but the words hang heavy between you both.

“Then what do you want?" he says quietly into your ear, his voice growling almost, a mix of desperation and determination. You can feel his warmth radiating against your skin, and he places a soft kiss on your ear, sending shivers down your spine. It’s a gentle gesture, yet it carries an undercurrent of desperation.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs again, his voice low and laced with urgency, lips brushing against your skin. With each word, his kisses trail down to your jaw, lingering there, tempting you to forget the hurt and the betrayal.

You can feel your resolve wavering. His proximity, the warmth of his body, the way he’s looking at you with such intensity makes your heart race for reasons you don’t want to acknowledge.

“Chan… this isn’t fair,” you breathe, trying to push him away, but he’s relentless, his kisses growing more insistent.

“Not fair?” he whispers against your skin, his lips moving closer to your mouth. “What’s not fair is you pushing me away when you know how I feel. You know I need you. I don’t want to lose you.”

You murmur, trying to regain control, but your voice carries no words as his lips hover just above yours, his breath mingling with yours.

Then, with a sudden rush of warmth, he kisses you—softly at first, a gentle brush that ignites the embers of longing within you. It’s a kiss filled with desperation.

The warmth of his mouth against yours sends shivers down your spine, drawing you in even as your mind screams to remember the hurt, the betrayal. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer, his touch igniting every nerve ending, making it harder to think.

“Chan…” you whisper against his lips, torn between the passion of the moment and the ache of your heart. But he deepens the kiss, his lips moving against yours with an urgency that steals your breath, coaxing you to surrender.

His tongue finds its way past your lips, his taste filling your mouth, sending sparks of pleasure through your veins. He kisses you with an intensity that leaves no room for doubt.

You should push him away, tell him no, but the heat of his kiss melts away the last remnants of your resistance, and before you know it, you find yourself giving in, your body responding to his touch, your desire matching his. He pulls off his shirt, his eyes still burning as he presses his lips against yours once again.

You can feel the hardness of his body against yours, the heat of his desire, and the promise of more, and sooner or later both your clothes were on the floor.

He pushed you back, your back thuding against the bed.

His kisses trail down to your neck, and you tilt your head back, lost in the sensations. His hands caress your body, sending waves of pleasure through you, as his lips explore every inch of exposed skin.

The ache inside you grows stronger, demanding to be sated, and you give in to it, letting the passion take over.

He pulls back, just for a moment, just long enough to look at you with such raw need that it takes your breath away. Then, he moves forward, his body covering yours, and your eyes close as you savor the feeling of his weight on top of you.

He kisses you again, and this time, there's no holding back. His hands trail down, moving lower, his fingers gently rubbing your clit. You let out a gasp, your body responding with pleasure.

Chan could sense your desire and quickly moved to satisfy it. He gently spread your legs, his fingers sliding into your wet pussy. You let out a soft moan, your body arching towards him as he began to finger you.

"Oh, God," you moaned, his fingers expertly bringing you closer to the edge. You could feel the pleasure building inside you, his touch igniting every nerve ending, taking you higher and higher.

He kept his pace steady, his fingers moving in and out of you, the pleasure intensifying with every move.

"Yes, yes," you moaned, your body quivering, your climax nearing.

With one last thrust of his fingers, you came, your body shuddering with pleasure. Your moans fill the room, your release a release from the pent up emotions, from the pain and the hurt.

Chan barely gave you time to react when he flipped you over on all fours. He pressed his hands on your lower back and pulled your hair closer to him until his lips were right near your ear.

"You're mine, and don't you forget it." he whispers, his breath hot and heavy. You looked at his eyes reflected in the mirror that stood facing the bed.They were filled with lust, darkened with desire, locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

You felt the tip of his cock brush against your entrance, and you bit your lip, anticipation building inside you. But instead of putting it in, he began to tease you, moving it in slow circles around your clit.

"Chan.. please.." you moaned.

"Please, what?" he replied sternly.

"I need you."

"Yeah? Beg for it," he growled, his voice low and menacing. "Beg for my cock, you little slut."

You glare at him. You shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest. “No,” you say defiantly.

He leans closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Beg,” he repeats, his fingers tracing patterns on your thigh. You shiver, hating that your body betrays you like this. You want to push him away, to tell him to fuck off, but you can’t. You’re too caught up in the moment, in the way he’s looking at you, like he wants to devour you. He leans back, his eyes still locked on yours.

“Fine,” he says, his voice dripping with disappointment. “If you won’t beg, then I won’t give you what you want.” You watch as he releases your hair, causing you to fall foward a bit.

"Wait..p-please," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Please, fuck me."

"Sorry, come again?" he says.

You clench your fists, hating that you're begging him, but you're so fucking horny. You need his cock inside you, filling you up, making you scream with pleasure. "Please, Chan, I'm begging you. Please, fuck me."

He shakes his head and grabs you again, resuming your previous position, his cock brushing against your clit again, making you gasp. "No, not yet. You need to beg some more."

You whimper, your body trembling. "Please, Chan, I'll do anything. Just fuck me already."

He chuckles, his fingers tracing your nipples, making them harden. "Anything, huh?"

He continues to tease you, his cock brushing against your clit, his fingers playing with your nipples. You're begging him, pleading with him to fuck you, but he's not listening. He's enjoying this too much, and you hate him for it.

But at the same time, you love it. You love the way he's making you feel, the way he's making your body respond to his touch.

"Please, Chan, I can't take it anymore," you gasp, your body trembling with need. "Please, fuck me."

He finally relents, his cock sliding inside you.

He started thrusting, each stroke hitting you deeper and deeper, the pleasure bordering on pain. You could see your reflection in the mirror, your face contorting in pleasure, slowly getting more...

and more ...

and more utterly fucked out.

You watched as your body arched and quivered, and the sight sent another wave of pleasure through you, intensifying the sensations. He groaned, his hands gripping your hips tighter. "You're fucking mine, understand?"

You couldn't respond, the pleasure overtaking you, rendering you unable to form words. His thrusts became faster, harder, his cock reaching places you didn't even know existed.

You moaned out, shutting your eyes as you were unable to hold back, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

"Look at yourself, baby." he growls, his hand tightening in your hair. When Chan saw no reaction from you, he spoke again.

“Be a good girl and keep eye contact with me.” He said, lifting your chin up so you could meet the dirty image plastered in the mirror once again. You opened your eyes and your reflection looked back at you, cheeks flushed, lips parted, eyes hazy with lust.

You looked debauched, completely at his mercy, and you loved it. Fuck, you tightened even more with that realization.

Chan grunted, picking up the pace, fucking you harder and deeper, your cunt clenching more and more around him.

"You hate me? Are you sure? Your body tells me a different story." He said as his hips slamming into you, and you could feel the pressure building again, the pleasure intensifying.

He grunted, his movements growing erratic, and you knew he was close. "Say it," he growled, his voice laced with desire. "Say you hate me"

"I- I- I ha-ha," you breathed, your body quivering, the pleasure nearing its peak.

"Say it." he commanded, his thrusts hitting you even harder.

"I-I h-hate you," you moaned, the words tumbling from your lips. He began to pound you even harder.

"Again!"

"I- I hate you. Oh, God, I hate you so much," you cried, the words spilling from your lips, your body teetering on the edge of ecstasy.

" Fucking slut. You can't resist me even if you say you hate me. Can't resist my dick inside you, can you?"

Your body shook with pleasure, and then you were coming again, the orgasm tearing through you, your cries filling the room.

And then, just as you thought it was over, his hand grabbed your hair, pulling your head back, and he pushed his cock into your mouth.

You gagged, the sudden intrusion nearly overwhelming, but the pleasure was too much, and soon, you found yourself giving in, the feeling of his cock filling your mouth, the taste of his precum sending shivers of pleasure through you. "Tell me you hate me now, huh"

You moaned, the words muffled by his cock, the pleasure coursing through your veins, the heat and the taste and the feel of him too much to resist.

And then, he was coming, his cock pulsing in your mouth, his cum filling you, the taste of it salty and sweet and everything you needed.

You swallowed, his cum dripping down your chin, the taste of it lingering on your tongue. You felt exhausted, drained, yet somehow satisfied, the pain and the hurt replaced by something else.

And as he pulled out, the last traces of his release spilling onto your lips, you knew that despite everything, despite the betrayal and the lies, there was still something between you, something stronger than the pain and the anger.

"Chan-"

He cut you off with a kiss, his lips crashing against yours, his tongue probing into your mouth. You kissed him back, your body responding to his touch, the pain and the hurt giving way to desire once again.

As your lips moved together, the intensity began to shift. It softened, the anger fading as something deeper, something raw and vulnerable, took its place. When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, foreheads resting against each other as the room fell into a quiet, charged silence.

"I’m sorry," you whispered first, the words trembling on your lips. "I didn’t mean what I said. I don’t hate you, Chan… I could never hate you. I was just—" You paused, your voice thick with emotion, your chest aching. "I was so hurt, Chan.."

Chan’s hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that were starting to fall. “No, don’t be sorry,” he murmured, his own voice breaking slightly. “I deserved that. I didn’t tell you about her because… because I didn’t want to deal with what I knew it would do to us. I was selfish.”

Chan sighed, his eyes softening as he looked at you, the weight of his own regret heavy in the air. “I know you didn’t mean it. But I also know I gave you every reason to feel that way. I should’ve been honest. I should’ve trusted you with the truth instead of making you feel like you had to find out on your own.”

You bit your lip, the words still caught in your throat, but you forced them out. "I felt so betrayed, Chan. But it wasn’t just because of her. It was because you didn’t trust me enough to handle the truth."

His face twisted with regret, and he nodded slowly. “You’re right. I didn’t trust you, and I’m so sorry for that. I thought I was protecting you, protecting us, but I only ended up hurting you more.”

You could see the remorse in his eyes, and it broke your heart to know that both of you had let things get this far. You reached up, your hand resting against his cheek as you searched his gaze. “I don’t want to fight like this. I don’t want to hurt each other.”

Chan leaned into your touch, his eyes closing for a moment as he sighed deeply. “Neither do I. I don’t want to lose you because of my mistakes.”

Your heart squeezed in your chest, and you leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his. “I don’t want to lose you either,” you whispered. “But we can’t keep hiding things from each other. If we’re going to move forward… we have to be honest.”

“I know,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I promise, no more secrets. I’ll be better. I’ll be the person you deserve.”

You nodded, the heaviness in the room starting to lift, replaced by something more fragile, but real. “I’ll be better too,” you whispered, your voice full of sincerity. "I shouldn’t have said those things. I didn’t mean them."

Chan’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, his lips brushing gently against your forehead in a silent apology. “I love you,” he whispered against your skin, the words raw and filled with everything he hadn’t been able to say before.

"I love you too," you breathed, your heart full of both pain and hope.

In that moment, you both knew that there was still a lot to work through, but there was also a chance—a chance to heal, to rebuild. And despite everything, you wanted to try.

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paddockletters · 2 days

Text

unseen | jude bellingham

pairing: jude bellingham x reader request: yes / Reader who was bullied when young and then jude and her go to her hometown and everyone feels out cause that freaking jude bellingham and they get like, impressed by reader success as an f1 engineer and that she bagged jude? Sorry its way too specific author’s note: Hope you liked it!... as I always say... english is not my first language so pardon me if there are mistakes —feel free to tell me— and my requests are open!👀

The memories of my school days never really left me. Every now and then, they’d come creeping back — a careless comment someone made, or the way people used to whisper when I walked past. I could still picture the sneers, the cold stares, and the cutting remarks. The bullying wasn’t always physical, but the emotional scars felt just as deep. Being the quiet girl who loved math, cars, and physics made me an easy target. I didn’t fit in with the other girls who were into makeup and parties. I was more interested in tweaking engines and dreaming of Formula 1. That difference marked me.

It all began in middle school when I started to realize just how out of place I was. My grades were high, my social skills not so much. Every time I raised my hand in class, there’d be snickers. Every time I’d walk down the hall with my oversized glasses, someone would mutter a snide remark. The bullying wasn’t brutal, but it was consistent, gnawing at me bit by bit. High school wasn’t much better. The teasing continued, though by then, I had learned to keep my head down and drown out the noise by focusing on my dream of working in Formula 1.

Fast forward a few years, and here I am — an engineer for one of the top F1 teams. The transformation was surreal. Sometimes, I still have to pinch myself. Who would’ve thought that the same girl who spent her lunch breaks in the library, sketching out car designs, would one day be standing in the pit lane at Monaco?

But something even crazier happened along the way — I met Jude Bellingham.

It wasn’t some grand, love-at-first-sight story. I wasn’t starstruck when I first saw him. In fact, I didn’t even know who he was. We met at a charity event, one aimed at inspiring young athletes and professionals from underprivileged backgrounds to chase their dreams. Jude was there as the football star, while I had been invited to speak about my journey into F1. He seemed genuinely interested during my talk, but we didn’t interact much that day. It wasn’t until I received a DM on Instagram a few days later that things really started.

“Hey, I loved your speech at the event. I’m Jude, by the way — football player. Would love to grab coffee sometime if you’re up for it.”

I remember staring at my phone, thinking it was a prank. A football star wanted to get coffee with me? It felt like a joke. But I responded, and we met. Coffee turned into long dinners, long dinners turned into walks in the park, and those walks turned into a relationship.

Jude wasn’t what I expected. Sure, he was famous, but he was also kind, funny, and remarkably down-to-earth. He never treated me like I was less important than him. If anything, he seemed fascinated by my work. He’d ask me endless questions about the F1 cars, the strategies, the engineering behind the speed. I’d tease him about football, asking if he really knew what went into designing the perfect car. We just clicked.

Still, going back to my hometown was something I hadn’t done in years. The memories were too bitter. But Jude wanted to go. He wanted to see where I grew up, to meet the people who had shaped me, for better or worse. So we planned a trip. I was nervous as hell, but Jude? He was excited.

The car ride to my hometown felt like an eternity. As Jude hummed along to the soft rhythm of the music playing through the speakers, my mind was far from the road. I hadn’t been back here in years, not since I’d left for university. The thought of returning had always been… daunting. I wasn’t ready to face the ghosts of the past. Or, more specifically, the people who had made my life a living hell when I was younger.

I glanced at Jude, who was focused on the road, one hand casually resting on the wheel, the other on my leg, giving me an occasional reassuring squeeze. His presence grounded me, but that nervous pit in my stomach kept growing the closer we got.

“You’re quiet,” he said, glancing at me.

I forced a smile. “Just... thinking.”

Jude raised an eyebrow, his tone soft as he asked, “About?”

“About how weird this is going to be. I haven’t been back here in years, Jude. People… they remember things. They remember who I was.”

“And who you were is exactly who I love. You know that, right?” he said, giving my thigh another squeeze.

I chuckled softly, leaning back into the seat, trying to push the anxiety down.

“I know. It’s just that, back then, I was the awkward girl who couldn’t fit in. Now I’m walking into town holding hands with Jude Bellingham. People are going to freak out.”

“They’ll freak out because you’re a freaking Formula 1 engineer, not because of me,” he said, grinning. “I bet half the people in town have posters of you in their garage next to their Ferrari die-casts or something.”

“Oh please,” I laughed, rolling my eyes. “No one from my town cares about F1.”

“They should. You’re a genius.”

Jude’s words were always so simple, but they held so much weight. He had a way of making me feel seen, really seen, in a way no one else ever had. That’s what made everything with him feel so different. He wasn’t just the football star that millions of people idolized; he was my Jude, the one who asked me about race strategies and remembered the names of the engineers on my team.

We arrived at the town square just as the afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the small, familiar streets. The sight of it brought back a wave of memories — good and bad. It was strange how everything looked smaller now, less intimidating. The buildings I used to walk past with my head down, trying not to be noticed, now seemed so ordinary.

Jude parked the car, pulling his baseball cap down over his head as we stepped out. I could already see a few people glancing in our direction, their eyes widening with recognition. They weren’t just looking at him, though. They were looking at me.

“Hey, you okay?” Jude asked, stepping closer to me, his arm wrapping around my waist.

I nodded, even though I wasn’t entirely sure. “Yeah, it’s just… surreal.”

We started walking through the town square, hand in hand. I tried to ignore the stares, the whispers. But they were everywhere.

“Oh my god, is that… Jude Bellingham?”

“Wait, isn’t that the girl who used to go to school here? She’s, like, a big deal now, right?”

“I heard she works in Formula 1. How did she end up with him?”

I bit my lip, feeling the familiar wave of insecurity creeping in. But Jude seemed unfazed. If anything, he walked a little taller, as if daring anyone to say something negative. He pulled me in closer, planting a kiss on my temple as we crossed the square.

As we walked into the shopping center, we decided to stop by a café for a drink. I could already feel the buzz of recognition in the air as people realized who Jude was.

Jude sat across from me, casually sipping his drink as if we were anywhere else in the world. He had his cap pulled low over his face, trying to avoid drawing attention, but it was hard not to notice him. He was Jude Bellingham after all.

The stares had started the moment we walked into the square, but he didn’t seem to mind. He had this effortless calm about him, the way he handled attention, fame. Meanwhile, I was doing my best not to feel like I was under a spotlight, even though I knew people were whispering and pointing, probably trying to figure out why he was with me.

I caught a glance from a group of teenagers at the table across from us. They were huddled together, looking our way, giggling and whispering. I sighed, already feeling a bit on edge.

Jude noticed. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low and gentle.

I forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah, just... weird being back here.”

“I can imagine,” he said, reaching across the table to take my hand. His thumb brushed over my knuckles in that soothing way he always did. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

I took a deep breath, glancing around the café. “It’s fine. Just... a lot of memories, you know?”

He squeezed my hand, his gaze soft and understanding. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” I said, surprising myself. I had never really told him the full story before.

He knew bits and pieces, but I had kept most of it to myself. Maybe it was time to let him in.

I looked down at our intertwined hands, thinking back to those years.

“I wasn’t exactly the most popular kid,” I started, my voice quieter than I intended.

“I was the one they picked on. The ‘geeky’ one. I loved math, engineering, all the stuff no one else thought was cool. I spent more time in the library than anywhere else. They made fun of me for it—my glasses, my clothes, the fact that I never fit in.”

Jude’s expression softened. “Kids can be cruel.”

“They were,” I agreed, a bitter laugh escaping me. “It wasn’t just teasing though. It got pretty bad at times. I used to dread coming to school. Every day felt like walking into a battlefield. I just wanted to disappear, you know?”

Jude’s grip on my hand tightened slightly. “I hate that you went through that.”

I shrugged, trying to play it off like it didn’t matter anymore.

“It’s in the past. I got out. I became an F1 engineer, so jokes on them, I guess.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You don’t have to act like it doesn’t still hurt. It’s okay to feel that.”

I looked up at him, my throat tightening with the emotion I hadn’t realized was building up.

“It does, sometimes. I mean, I know I’ve made it, but coming back here... it just brings all that stuff up again.”

He stood up then, coming around the table to sit beside me. Without a word, he pulled me into a hug, his arms wrapping around me protectively.

“You’re so much stronger than you give yourself credit for,” he whispered into my hair. “You’re brilliant, and you’ve worked so hard to get where you are. They didn’t see that back then, but it doesn’t matter. I see it. The world sees it now.”

I leaned into him, letting his warmth and words wrap around me like a blanket.

We stayed like that for a few moments before pulling apart slightly, Jude resting his forehead against mine.

“You’ve got nothing to prove to anyone here,” he said softly. “You’re you, and that’s more than enough.”

I smiled, squeezing his hand. “Thank you. For always knowing what to say.”

Jude grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Well, you did bag me, so I’d say you’re doing something right.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“It’s part of my charm,” he teased, flashing that trademark grin.

As we sat there, talking about everything and nothing, a few more people came up to us. A couple of them recognized me from school. I could see the surprise in their eyes, like they couldn’t believe the girl they used to tease was sitting here with a world-famous footballer.

“Hey, I remember you,” a girl of the group said, her voice laced with nostalgia. “You were in my physics class, right?”

I nodded, offering a polite smile. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“Wow,” she said, glancing between me and Jude. “I heard you’re doing big things now. Formula 1, right?”

“Yeah, I’m an engineer for one of the teams.”

“That’s… amazing,” she said, looking genuinely impressed. “I always knew you were smart, but I didn’t realize… well, you know.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond, but Jude jumped in, his arm draping casually around my shoulders.

“She’s a genius. She’ll never admit it, but she’s probably the best engineer in F1 right now.”

I blushed, nudging him playfully. “Stop exaggerating.”

The girl chuckled awkwardly, clearly a bit starstruck by Jude’s presence. “Well, it’s great to see you doing so well. And… with him. That’s pretty cool.”

After she left, I turned to Jude, who was grinning like he’d just won the Champions League.

“What?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jude grinned. “See? People notice. They’re impressed, as they should be.”

I rolled my eyes playfully. “You’re biased.”

“Maybe,” he said, leaning in to kiss my temple. “But I’m also right.”

As we walked through the shopping center, I could still feel people glancing our way, some whispering, others taking quick pictures on their phones. But for the first time, I didn’t feel like the awkward, out-of-place girl from school. I felt like someone who had earned her place in the world, someone who had worked hard and made it.

A few more people came up to Jude, asking for pictures or autographs, but he always made sure to include me in the conversation, making it clear that I wasn’t just the girl on his arm. I was someone in my own right.

At one point, a young girl, probably no older than ten, approached me shyly. She held a notebook in her hand, her eyes wide with admiration.

“Excuse me,” she said quietly, “are you the F1 engineer? The one who works with the cars?”

I blinked in surprise, glancing at Jude before nodding. “Yeah, that’s me.”

Her face lit up, and she held out her notebook. “Could I have your autograph? I want to be an engineer one day, just like you.”

My heart melted, and I took the notebook from her, scribbling my name with a quick message of encouragement. “You can be whatever you want to be,” I told her, handing it back. “Just keep working hard and never stop believing in yourself.”

She smiled, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Thank you!”

As she ran off, I turned to Jude, who was watching me with a proud smile.

“See?” he said softly. “You’re a role model.”

I smiled, leaning into him. “I guess I am.”

As we walked, Jude nudged me with his elbow.

“You handled that like a pro.”

“I don’t know how you do it all the time,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief.

He laughed. “You get used to it.”

Jude looked over at me, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“I’m proud of you, you know.”

I glanced up at him, my heart swelling with affection. “For what?”

“For being you. For everything you’ve accomplished. And for putting up with me,” he teased, nudging me playfully.

I laughed, feeling lighter than I had in years. “It’s not always easy, but I manage.”

As we left the shopping center and headed back to the car, I realized something important. This place might have been where my story started, but it didn’t define me anymore. I had moved on, grown, become someone I was proud of. And with Jude by my side, I knew I could face whatever came next, even if it meant coming back to the place I once tried so hard to leave behind.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham oneshot #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham blurbs #football blurb #football imagines #football imagine #real madrid #jude bellingham fanfic #jb5 #hey jude #jude bellingham one shot

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kayhi808 · 1 day

Note

The ask about Abby getting ready for the dance and Bucky picking her up was so cute!!!

What is the dance like? Does she have the time of her life? Does her bully (was it Justin?) try to say something mean but Bucky steps up and talks to the dad? Do the teachers try to flirt with Bucky?

Please feel free to ignore!

Bucky and Abby walk into the classroom, hand in hand. "Dis my scoonroom." As they enter, Abby's teacher, Ms. Grace is there to greet them. "Abby. Mr. Barnes. Welcome!"

"Hi, Ms Grace!" Turning to Bucky, "Ms Grace is my favorite teacher."

Blushing, "That's so sweet, honey. Don't you look so pretty in that dress."

"My Mama buys it for me!" She swishes her hips to make the skirt sway. Ms. Grace leans down to stick a name tag on Abby's chest & when she starts to apply a sticker to Bucky's lapel, Abby starts hopping. "Oh, I gets it! I can do's it!" She holds her hand out for the sticker. "I can puts it on."

Not thinking anything, Ms Grace smiles and hands her the sticker. "You're such a good little helper. Thank you, Abby."

"You melcome!" Abby takes Bucky's hand and he kneels down so she can put his name tag on. "Dere you goes. What it says?"

Bucky looks down, " It says James Barnes."

Frowning "Who James?"

"I'm James."

"No, you not. Yous Bucky." Abby shakes her head & is ready to peel his sticker off.

He clasps her hand in his, "Only my friends can call me Bucky."

Abby's eyes go wide & her little jaw drops, " I's call you Bucky!" He smiles and nods.

*****

Soon, Abby is joined by her 2 best friends, Chloe and Mia along with their fathers. The fathers are welcoming to Bucky. This afternoon he wasn't some Avenger, he was a Girl Dad like the rest of them. As the classroom fills up, the group makes their way to the food table, making sure their girls have snacks and refreshments.

There are some single mother who accompany their daughters to the dance. A couple make their way over to Bucky. "Sergeant Barnes, we were so excited to hear you'd be attending."

Abby taps her chest, "He's my dates."

One forward mother, places her hand on Bucky's arm, leaning in to whisper, "You're like a celebrity."

Abby squeezes between them, "he not c'brity," dislodging the woman's hand. Abby holds his hand in 2 of her smaller ones.

In false sugary tones, "Oh, who is this?"

Abby points to her name tag, "It says Abigail."

"Oh Bucky, she's so precious."

"You need to go scoon. Cans you read? His name is James," says Abby, pointing to his sticker.

Bucky tries to hold back his laugh, "Very good, Abby. My name is James."

"She can't calls you Bucky. She not fwends."

Bucky scoops her up, "Excuse us ," and he takes her back to the table with her friends. Most of the time is spent with the dad's doting on the girls or them just watching the 3 girls play and interact.

After refreshments, music is played and the dancing begins. Bucky has already been a part of many after dinner Dance Parties so him and Abby have their routine down.

That one mother, positions herself close to Bucky. "You're such a good dancer." Bucky smiles & Abby jumps in, "Cos my Mama and him dance all the time. My Mama dance so goods."

"Maybe you can show me some moves," she flirts with Bucky.

"No, he cannot. He dancing wit me."

"I'm sure you don't mind sharing."

Shaking her head and glaring, "No tank you. I don't wike sharing wit you "

Bucky covers up his laugh with a cough. "Abby."

The woman gives Abby a tight smile, "Maybe the next dance."

"No. He cannot. We going home to Mama and you can't comes."

@waywardhunter95 @wintrsoldrluvr @rebeccapineapple @ordelixx @onceithough @thezombieprostitute @ilovetaquitosmmmm @julvrs @unaxv @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @winterslove1917 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @mrsnikstan @hisredheadedgoddess28 @itsteambarnes @otterlycanadian @purplecolordeer @samsgirl93 @buckitostan @blackbirdwitch22 @littleredwolff @mcucatlady @silas-aeiou @hzdhrtss @florie1 @thecubanator2 @enchantedbarnes @selella @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @cjand10 @pancake-05 @ozwriterchick @crazyunsexycool

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #abigail rose

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h4untedgrl · 1 day

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Needy Baby | c.jh

-♡ genre/au: non-idol au, established relationship, meandom!jongho (kinda) x sub!fem reader (kinda)

-♡ warnings: thigh riding, degradation (whore, slut, dumb puppy) slight praise?, pet names (jjongie (bear), honey, baby)

Jongho was a busy guy. Always on the phone for work. He wasn’t a bad boyfriend, he always provided and showed you love. However your sex life was sort of boring. But tonight was the night things would change for the better.

“Jjongieee bearrr~” You say as you walk over to Jongho, as he’s casually sitting in the kitchen on his phone. “Yes honey” He responds back without looking at you, his eyes glued to his phone. You frown at the interaction. “Pay attention to me Jjongie” He sighs “Not right now honey, I have to handle this” You roll your eyes, stomping your foot before you move to the living room.

Your head starts to spin, how many more phone calls is he gonna take? I’ve been waiting for him all day and all he’s gonna do is be on the phone?

After sitting with your thoughts for a couple minutes, you muster up the courage to spice things up. You slip off your panties that were hidden under your oversized tee. Swinging them around your finger as you walk back over to him. Stuffing them into his pocket.

“What’d you put in there” Jongho says coldly still looking at his phone. “Don’t worry about it” A giggle escapes your lips before you straddle his thigh. “Honey seriously.. not right now”. “You don’t need to do anything, just sit like that” You purr in his ear, you feel Jongho’s breathing hitch.

You start to rock against his strong thigh, the pressure on your clit sending you to the stars. Jongho’s looks down at your frame, flexing his thigh to see if he could get a reaction out of you “Oh fuck!” you moan loudly stunned at his compliance to your behavior.

He chuckles to him, finally setting his phone on the table “Such a needy baby, look at you trying to get off on my thigh” You look up at him with pleading eyes as lewd sounds travel from your mouth to his ears. His hands travelled down to your hips, guiding your movements. You mew at the feeling of his touch.

“Such a slut” He hissed through his teeth, the grip on your hips tightening. You throw your head back, your cunt throbbing around nothing, the slick soaking into his slacks. “Keep talking, please” You rut your pussy against him eagerly. “Keep going whore, squirming against my thigh like a dumb puppy” His voice dark, as he whispers in your ear.

You feel your orgasm building in the pit of your stomach, you wrap your arms around his neck for support. “Jjongie.. gonna’ cum” He smiles at you “Go on baby, go ahead and cum around nothing” His words were all you needed. Your pussy clenched, your legs tremble as your orgasm overwhelms your body. “FUCK!” Jongho runs his hands along your waist “Go ahead baby, I got you”

Your breathing rapid as you try to speak to Jongho, “Fuck that was good” You lift your leg up to get off of him. Jongho’s hands quickly grab you, keeping you on his lap.

“You have no idea of what you just started”

-♡ taglist: @vampzity @scarfac3 @dvrktvnnel @dollywoo @planetjaeyun @yyaurii @cypher-03 @desirehorizon

#☆h4untedgrl #—☆salems kinktober #ateez x reader #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez hard hours #ateez smut #ateez fic #atz #ateez jongho #jongho x reader #jongho smut #jongho #jongho ateez #atz imagines #atz fanfic #atz smut #atz x reader #atz jongho

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minniesmutt · 23 hours

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☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧

☾ ━━━ PAIRING: CHANGBIN X READER ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: ALPHA!CHANGBIN, OMEGA!READER, READER IN HEAT, NEST MENTIONS, TEASING, BREEDING, DIRTY TALK, UNPROTECTED SEX, CREAMPIE, ☾ ━━━ WC: 0.8K ☾ ━━━ NOTE: this feels lowkey rushed to me but I was just very busy today and had been up very early so I def was falling asleep writing this ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

Y/n hated when her heart started and her boyfriend was gone. She also didn’t like bothering him when he was at work but she was desperate for his help.

“Hey baby,” Changbin’s voice came through the speaker

“Binnie,” Y/n whined

“Everything okay? Do you need me to come home?” She could hear the worry protectiveness in his voice.

“Please. My heat—“

“You started?!”

“Yeah…”

“Damn it, I was off by a couple days.” She heard him grabbing his things and saying bye to someone before a door closed. “I’m on my way home. Are you in your nest?”

“Yeah. Smells like you.”

“Is it still strong?”

“No.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes baby.”

“M’kay,”

She curled up into the little nest she had made earlier as she waited as patiently as she could for her boyfriend to come home. The past mating season, Changbin had just so happened to be home so it wasn’t a huge deal. They both knew it was starting soon and he swore up and down he knew when it was going to start just for it to be off for a couple days. He had been through heats and seasons with her before. The alpha learned last year that her heats became very intense because of the breeding season— not that he minded one bit. But they still weren’t entirely sure about having a liter just yet. But all his alpha instincts were kicking into high gear. Especially as he got closer to the front door, her scent strong.

The second he had the door locked, he dropped everything and headed to their bedroom, finding her curled up in the pile of blankets, pillows, and his sweatshirts and clothes. Y/n’s head perked up as she smelled him. Changbin pulled off his shirt and added to her nest pile as he climbed over her.

“How long before you were gonna call me?” Changbin asked, kissing down her neck. Taking quick notice that she was still in her sleep shirt and nothing else.

“Tried holding off till you were off,” Y/n admitted

“Glad you didn’t,” Changbin admitted, hands slipping under her shirt and pulling it off her head.

Y/n let him toss the clothing to the side before pressing his lips to hers. Y/n moaned into his mouth as her hands wandered down to the waistband of his pants, trying to get them undone as his hard-on pressed against her. “Bin,” Y/n whined

“Been sitting here waiting for me to breed your pretty pussy?” Changbin teased as he helped her get the rest of his clothing off his bottom half.

“Mhmm,” Y/n agreed

Changbin got the rest of his clothes off and in the pile, letting them join the nest as Y/n wrapped her legs around him. Changbin smiled at her as he grabbed the back of her knees and pressed her legs to her chest. He watched her flush before his eyes flickered down to her wet cunt. Ready to take him.

Changbin rested her legs on his shoulders as he leaned forward. He grabbed the base of his cock and rubbed the underside of his shaft against her folds before finally slipping inside her. Y/n moaned as she grabbed one of the items behind her.

“Good girl,” He groaned and started thrusting in and out of her, “Just lay there and let Binnie take care of you. Let me fill you up. Give you a litter this year?”

“Please! Want your pups,” Y/n agreed, brain clouded with the need to be bred by him.

Changbin was the same. He knew once she told him that her heat started that he had to help and take care of her. But the second her scent had hit his nose, that was all forgotten— somewhat— and replaced with needing to fill her up. Pump her full of his seed till it was spilling out of her and then fill her again. That was evident in the way he was thrusting into her, even as her walls clenched around him.

“Close, Bin. Need…”

“Yeah? Your Binnie taking good care of you?”

“Yes!”

“Gonna show me how good I’m doing? Cum all over me then let me knot you?”

Y/n barely nodded as she could feel the knot start to plump up. He was close and she was closer. Falling over the edge in pleasure as he took her through it. Holding onto her thighs as he pushed himself inside her, his knot swelling up and locking them together as his cum filled her up.

Changbin managed to wrap her legs around his waist as lay on top of her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. Y/n caught her breath as she felt the alpha kissing her chest and shoulder, licking a few patches of skin. “More…” Y/n begged

“Gonna have to wait, pretty girl. We’ve got all the time in the world for more.”

“But…”

Changbin chuckled then sat up on his forearms and pressed his lips to hers. Y/n returned the kiss and cupped his jaw. “Promise I’m gonna fuck you through this till you’re tired or pregnant with my pups, got it?”

“Think the latter will come first,” Y/n replied

“We’ll just have to find out, huh mama?”

☾ ━━━━━━ KINKTOBER M. LIST M.LIST TIP JAR

☾ ━━━ please support writers by reblogging and/or leaving feedback

☾ ━━━ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: @bowsnbang @tearfulspark78 @purplesprinkles19 @hanyorustar @tinyelfperson

@yeetmehome @boldy-49 @seungminsbest @galaxycatdrawz @paborachaslvt

@skzfelixlove @igetcarriedawaywithyou @ihrtlix @kkamismom12 @leenaur

@annoyingwastelandshark @tajannah-price1 @sillygoosegoose @charlieg1rl @kibs-and-bits

@lxlsposts @seunmong-in @korthbum @linocvp1d @lesbirino

@emilyhadenbaker @linosoju @moonlightcandy00 @bangtanksea22 @rei-reia

@possum-playground @doitforbangchan @dreamgardenficrecs @bookswillfindyouaway @mallielovssyou

@minniesuperversee @seungfl0wer @straykidslover2024 @virluna148 @hyunlixie143

@rebecca-johnson-28 @spookzyclown @thecutiepieme @kittycatkrissa @whyisaah

@hyvneluv @sunaslut69 @sylveonitesworld @chansbabygirlsstuff @bottlebugg

#☾━━━━ [𝐊𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒]#☾━━━━ [ 2024 kinktober event]#stray kids #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids x reader smut #skz smut #skz x reader smut #skz #stray kids smut #changbin x reader #changbin x reader smut #changbin smut #seo changbin x reader #seo changbin smut #seo changbin x reader smut

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san8ny · 2 days

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robber ellie falling in love with victim reader😭

Something.

?: tried experimenting with angst / Older!Divorced!Reader x Younger!Robber!Ellie / Bi!Reader

“and you decided on here of all places?” You ask for what seems like the hundredth time, cleaver in your hold waving in the air all too closely for Ellie’s liking.

“Fuck— yes, lady, like I said, I just get paid to do this shit.” She groans, struggling against the ropes you had her embraced in, “What kind of knots even are these?..”

“Now, i’ve never really had to use this up until now..”

She feels her eyes widen, color draining from her face at the implication, “Woah! H-hey, you wouldn’t need to. We can find a compromise—

“You tried stealing my father’s urn.

Ellie’s winces at the weight of your words, her soiled plan gone to waste, “I thought it was a regular vase.. but— but with that being said, I didn’t succeed so you don’t need to be so brutal! Eh?‘Whaddya say?”

You stare at her for a rather long time before taking the knife and inching it towards her,

Ellie’s entire body tenses up, teeth clenching and her eyes shutting to prep for her seemingly inevitable demise—

Instead, you lightly poke her chest with the knife experimentally, “You’ve got like, no boobs.”

“WHAT THE FUCK? O-oh my god, you’re a pervert..”

“You’re in my house.”

“THAT DOESN’T JUSTIFY IT!”

“Back on topic! Why my place?”

“Needed the cash, how else?” She spits, gaze still never meeting yours fully

“That bad?”

“Wouldn’t be robbing people if I didn’t, would I?” She snaps aggressively, though it was expected

“You know, you should be nicer to me.” You say, reaching over back for your knife threateningly. She seems to quiet down at that, relaxing her shoulders as she obediently nods,

“I think i’d rather you just call the police at this poin, lady..” Ellie whispers, not having the willpower to deal with your manical interrogations, “My dad is sick, alright? He’s on the verge of dying, and I need that money for his treatment. Content now?”

After a brief pause, you speak up,

“Tell you what, you give me proof of this.. and I might be graceful enough to do something for you.” You thumb her bangs, separating each strand to reveal the glistening beads of sweat that pool at her auburn hairline.

“Huh, why?” Her head raises at your all-too gracious proposal, what exactly were you playing at? Pay the person trying to rob you? It’s laughable.

“Well..” you tilt your head, “You’re interesting”

Eventually, you do let her go, informing her of an easier way out than she came in. However, a deep pit in her stomach tells her she’d had been safer with cops than with whatever you were.

The following week, she’s being put to absolute work once she’d validated her father’s bills with you— from scrubbing floors to literally helping you wash your hair in that stupidly huge bathtub you have— she wants to hate you. no, she does! She hates you with every fiber in her. So, why does she feel so strongly opposed to seeing you interact with your husband everytime he’s back from his job? Maybe she hates him too? Yeah, that must be! Ellie hates everything to do with you by proxy, including your husband.

“Have you ever considered marriage, Eleanor?” You ask out of the blue, politely cutting your steak as you two sit across from each other at the dinner table, your husband not being present, per usual, not like he ever is. “My name is Ellie, not..whatever that is.”

You grin at her response, “Aren’t you too old to be going by a nickname though? Especially one as infantile as Ellie? It sounds like a pet-name if i’m being honest.”

She feels a vein threatening to pop as she points her fork at you, “Well, it’s my name so either call me it or not.”

There it is. The way you stare at her even when she’s slightly out of line. It’s a mixture of both amusement and surprise. Like she was some sort of entertainment for you.

“Ellie it is.” You softly say, smiling as you chew your food.

She hates the way it rolls off your tongue smoothly, no sign of condescension in it despite your previous words.

She hates how she feels something else stirring other than supposed hatred.

The other time she’s noticed this odd-feeling of hers rear it’s ugly head, was when you two had visited a bath-house, you stripping with ease as you walk the small steps they have before relaxing into the steamy water. Ellie stands there awkwardly, watching as you let your hair-bun down, all stress exiting your body once the sensations of the water settle around you.

“Well, aren’t you joining me, Ellie?”

She bites her bottom lip in an anxious fashion, almost fighting herself whether or not she’d let herself get that close to you. Regardless, one overpowers the other so she, like you, quickly sheds her clothing, stepping into the pool experimentally, however, she maintains a moderate space inbetween you two, careful not to ever let her body even touch a bristle of hair on yours.

Facing across from you, she studies the way your eyes are closed, soft crows feet at the corners— you were only 31 as she learnt, and already seemed so tired of the life you lived, having to run an entire estate while your— fuck, she couldn’t even recall his name— husband, ran business elsewhere. Ellie saw and took care of you more than she’d ever seen him done. I mean, what did you even see in him— ..what is she saying?

At the realization, she turns her gaze away from your face, eyes instead busying themselves with the small ripples the water makes.

“You never answered my answer.”

She doesn’t seem to want to avert her gaze from the water just yet, but speaks, “I don’t answer alot of the questions you ask if you haven’t noticed.”

“So will you answer one if I ask now?”

“Why should I?” She scoffs at your bluntness, if she didn’t want to answer a question, it’s not like you’d force it out of her.

“I see.” You say, before standing up to dry yourself off with a towel. At this, Ellie seems alarmed. What happened? Why’d you leave so suddenly? Why— why does she seem to care recently more than she’d like?

A reasonable amount of time had passed since the bathhouse, and you seemed to forget about it reasonably quicker. Almost immediately, actually. Currently, you were hauled up in your study while Ellie sweeped the hallway flooring. Upon arrival to your door, she’s met with a quick ‘I’d like to be alone, thank you!’ She rolls her eyes, knocking again. When ignored again, she opts for a 3rd time, before you open the door in irritation, “What— Oh, it’s you, Ellie! Hello!”

“Yes, yes, it’s me, can I come in? I have to tidy up this room before I can clock it for the night.” She says briefly, attempting to enter the room before you block her way with a nervous smile, “I don’t think this room is obligatory, you can just skip it and leave.”

“Uh, no, I’d like to it now rather than have it pile up tomorrow.”

“That’s really not necessary, I mean it, i’ll clean it even.” You try one last time of persuasion. However, this earns you a blank state and an occasional eye-twitch.

Sighing, you step to the side, “If you insist..”

Ellie looks around as you return to your desk, massaging your temples as you seem focused on a slight-stack of documents. I mean, she hadn’t seen you this stressed since the time you were told the oak-tree in the grand-garden had to be cut down because the neighbors were complaining about it obstructing sunlight to their meek vegtable plants. You went though with it, with the help of Ellie’s shoulder and a couple of shirts she had to run through each time you soaked them with your tears.

“I thought you said you had an accountant for taxing?” she asks, dusting the bookshelves, “I do,” You say, biting the cap of your pen as you twirl yourself in the swivel-chair, “these are divorce papers.”

It’s almost like time itself stops when those words dawn on Ellie. You’re..divorcing whatshisname? It’s like a fever dream. Almost surreal. Sure, you two never seemed all that in-love but you had your moments like when you’d kiss his cheek before he departs for whatever country he had shit to do in, I mean, that’s..romantic, right?

“12 years i’ll never get back down the drain. This, is why I ask you if you’d ever marry. Could you ever dedicate your life to another for it to be wasted like this?” You snap your fingers to signify time, bitterly laughing at Ellie’s solemn expression, “Don’t look at me like that, I liked you better than the others because we mutually agreed not to pity eachother.”

There it is, that feeling she faces when these moments spring up on her.

It’s not pity, it’s more like understanding where you’re coming from— but that’d be sympathy. Ellie doesn’t feel quite sympathetic about it, I mean, rich people don’t exactly feel that anyways but, she wants you to be the exception. You’re not like whatever the bunch are. You don’t frequent country clubs and you don’t go seeking elaborate affairs to spice your life. You’re an unsatisfied woman.

“I was young, you know? When my family heard of the marriage, they immediately called me mentally unwell— his family? Even worse. Guess what they immediately came to as reasoning? Witchcraft. It’s comical, isn’t? Me using spells to make a man of all things want me. If I did that, i’d be with Christian Bale, I tell ‘ya! I should’ve taken my signs then when he wouldn’t defend me, but I chalked it up to his fear of confrontation. ” You share, sipping your tea, “Older Men do nothing but leech off your youth. Don’t be like me, Ellie.”

“I won’t.” She finally says, though her throat tightens up, making her voice extra quivery rather than the assertion she was going for.

“Oh dear, don’t tell me my cautionary tale scared you?”

“No! No! It didn’t. I was just wondering, does your rule .. also apply to women?”

A brow is raised in response to the question, “I’d say so, though it’s a more common practice among that accursed other gender.” You kid, smiling. Ellie’s lips slightly pull into their own smile, her worrying expression now relaxing when she thinks you hadn’t caught onto her words yet.

“Do you like older women?”

At that question, Ellie feels the embarrassment return double the amount, slightly ruffling her short hair as she feels the hotness reach her cheeks, “I’m indifferent.”

Ah.

You look out the window before looking at your ring, “I don’t suppose your answer is supposed to imply dual-affection?”

She sighs, continuing to sweep, “I only like women, miss.”

…

“I suppose a women as a lover would be nice.”

Ellie’s heart races at this, is..this an opening? What exactly were you trying to do by saying this?

“Have you ever been with one, Ellie?” You tease lightly

Oh, how she wished the ground would swallow her whole.

After a brief pausing to catch both her breath and recollection of thoughts “..No, ma’am.”

“Want me to be your first?”

How this turnt into many illustrious nights with Ellie warming your the bed had become something both of you couldn’t come with an answer for other transactional sex.

How scandalous would this be if it got out? A well known older, recent divorcee seeking comfort in the arms of her 20 something year old house-hand. It would only intensify rumors, not that you ever cared, but..

“I won’t let you ruin yourself.” You softly whisper, sweeping a light tucking of hair behind her ear, “You’re too sweet for your own good, Ellie..”

That night, while Ellie slumbers, you pull together her seemingly last paycheck, wads of cash together into an envelope that could easily total above 20,000 as you place them near her pillow.

When she does awake, she’s brought to the empty idea of you, slot next to her feeling cold and empty. Where did you go?

Instead of a verbal answer, she’s given one in the form of payment and a brief letter:

‘Will be enough for your father’s bill. Collect your stuff at once and leave.’

Even when she does leave— she says nothing, catching a glimpse of you sat on the stump of the old oak-tree in what seems to be deep thought.

As per usual, Ellie’s last to saying everything

“Anyone could have seen she wasn’t in the right of mind.” The elderly ladies exchange amongst themselves, “I just didn’t expect it to be in such bad taste. Nobody is going to buy that home.’

Ellie’s fingertips brush against the ‘SELLING HOME’ sign they’ve posted up, the other 20 she’s ran off with clearly not stopping the process of this house being sold.

How long has it been since you left her behind again?

#the last of us #tlou #tlou2 #ellie williams #wlw #tlou angst #the last of us 2 fanfic #ellie williams x reader #the last of us 2 #tlou 2

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makiquas · 2 days

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Its Butchtober. Bear with me for a second as I rant about children's cartoon ships, butchphobia, the conditional acceptance of butches in sapphic spaces on the basis of desirability, and feeling erased as a butch kid.

It's so funny that I realised early on as a 2000-2010s teen/kid how a lot of so called "sapphics" of social media are really, really anti butch4butch, only by interacting with certain subsets of Catradora and Appledash haters. It may be flippant to connect butchphobia with children's cartoons, but you cannot deny it is there. We finally had two canon butch4butch and masc4masc lesbian animated ships. And the fandoms decided that the best possible reaction to this is to violently hate on the ships for bullshit reasons and write up masterdocs about how the butch character actually looks better with a femme character instead (in both cases–Rarity and Glimmer, who is arguably feminine but not femme, but that's a conversation for another day, how the SPOP fandom waters down gender identities for aesthetics).

This is not just about two cartoon ships; this mindset of seeing two masc lesbians and immediately going "actually they act like bros; but this BUTCHFEMME couple has real chemistry" comes off sounding really, really bad in 2024 when you have no idea how butch identity operates, outside of depicting us as pants-wearing sexually aggressive muscular women. Butches ARE bros, even the ones who kiss each other. Camaraderie and tomboyish swagger *is* a part of their life. It's not our fault you are too fanfic trope-pilled to read these interactions are sexless friendship bantering.

It's also quite concerning, given how there are only a handful of butch4butch books in the market, and almost all of them talk about the stigmatizing of relationships between two butches/studs/masc lesbians. There are many butch lesbians who themselves face internalized butchphobia because of societal standards and expectations of being turned into the "gallant" provider of femmes. Butch and femme are not always inherently complementary, butches can be attracted to other butches, there is no "natural order" model of lesbian/sapphic attraction and your thinly veiled butchphobia is really off-putting, given you guys don't seem to extend that same rhetoric to mascfemme ships like Korrasami or Caitvi, or femme-femme ships like Harlivy.

Here, I must mention relationships like Rei and Kaoru from Oniisama E, or Jess and Lupe from A League of Their Own, who have bucket loads of chemistry but still have some vehement antis only because both the lesbians are masculine. (What's funny is the new wave of lesbian Oniisama E fans are almost all Rei/Kaoru shippers despite the show putting them into two butchfemme pairings.) Something something to be butch4butch is to be failing the tests of palatability and desirability according to conventional models of societal norms. Forever.

Again, one may have valid reasons for disliking these fictional ships (what, I genuinely don't know). But it *is* weird that you guys can watch fifty white fem4fem sapphic shows in a year and read 100+ GL with the same feminine girlish blonde and brunette/pink haired archetype and not bat an eyelid, but conjure a world of made-up "platonic" dynamics just because you read every butch4butch interaction as fundamentally platonic.

A lot of you love to throw around Stone Butch Blues as a catchphrase to educate strangers on the internet about 1950s-70s blue-collar bar culture and USA butch femme history, but how many of you actually know that within the book itself, the lead character acts prejudiced and hates on another butch for being butch4butch? How many of you know that she apologizes to her friend at the end for her hateful remarks? Fun fact: when you ostracize a butch for not fitting into your butch-femme subculture aesthetic, you're no better than lesbiphobic bigots actually.

Anyway, here are some butch4butch resources if you are a baby butch4butch and feel alienated by these kinds of weird rhetoric in online and fandom queer spaces too:

Butch4Butch romance books

My Butch4Butch books masterdoc (**being updated regularly**)

Leo Wilder's Butch4Butch writing (18+)

Butch4Butch photography archive (insta)

Boyish² Butch4Butch yuri anthology (insta)

@milsae Butch4Butch artist (tumblr/insta)

This post is made by a trans masc butch of color. Terfs, racists, biphobes and radfems kindly do not derail or interact.

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moonlit-stay · 3 days

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Kinktober 2024 ▪ Day 2

▪ Pairing: Lee Minho x Female Reader

▪ Kink: Bath Sex

▪ Genre: Smut

▪ Word Count: 2.2k

▪ Warnings: Soft!Dom Minho, Sub!Fem Reader, established relationship, teasing, dirty talk, sex in a bath tub, unprotected sex, creampie

▪ Other Warnings: tiny mention of being in a crowded place in the beginning, mentions and consumption of food

▪ Please let me know if I missed anything

Color(s) Of This Fic: Heather Grey, Sky Blue, and Basil Green <3

If you are under the age of 18, please do not interact with this fic. This fic contains inappropriate content and is strictly 18+

Everything in not only this event, but all of my work in general is consensual. Even if not stated within the work.

Enjoy :)

The sun's brutal rays beam down onto your delicate skin, and you let out a huff as Minho's grip on your hand only tightens as he guides you through the crowd of people that flood the busy street.

To Minho, it doesn't matter how hot it is, there is no way he's going to lose you in this herd of people. So, to help ease his nerves, he insists on holding your hand despite all your protests.

The first time you try to slip your hand out of his grasp, he simply stops in his tracks for no longer than 10 seconds, just to turn around and look at you.

"No, thank you." He simply states with a shake of his head. You can't help the loud cackle that claws its way out of your mouth, earning you a few glances from random people passing by as Minho only smirks.

The second and final time you try to break away from him, he stops again, this time with a sigh. "I don't wanna risk losing you, baby." He calmly explains, pressing his lips together in a way that tells you he's serious, but he wants to be gentle about it.

"Okay..." You sigh out in response, opting to try and keep up with his walking pace.

"Besides," he starts, lightly nudging your shoulder when you come to walk next to him, "we're almost there."

You and Minho were friends for a few years prior to being in a relationship, so you're no stranger to the fact that he goes on trips with some of his close friends whenever their schedules allow. However, this is the first time you've ever come along on one of said trips.

Originally, it was a trip meant for him and his close friends, just like always, but he insisted that you come along this time. You immediately declined, not wanting to get in the way of the rare time he has to spend with his friends, but he refused to hear such nonsense coming from your pretty mouth. He simply told you to pack accordingly in a sing-song voice as he walked out of your room, leaving you no room to argue with him.

He just didn't feel right choosing his friends over you when he doesn't get to see you anymore than he gets to see his friends, so he opted to have the best of both worlds.

Now, here you are, putting all your trust in Minho to get you both to the restaurant that him and his friends picked out on the way here in one piece. You could only hope that his two friends aren't already there waiting for you and Minho while you two struggle to find the place.

"There it is!" Minho hollers, immediately walking you both towards the entrance.

Much to both your surprise and relief, you make it to the restaurant only a minute or two after his friends, and you let out an audible sigh at the realization.

The four of you are quickly seated for your meals, soon enjoying the highly anticipated food as you all discuss what you should do the following day. After plans are made and meals are finished, all four of you walk back to your Airbnb together.

When you get close enough, Minho's friends decide to race to the Airbnb, making a joke about how an activity such as this is not lovebird friendly. You and Minho chuckle in response, hearing the two begin arguing before they even make it to the front door.

"I wanna shower first!" You hear one of them yell out the second you and Minho walk through the door of the Airbnb.

"No! I already called it!" His other friend replies just as loud.

"If it's such a big deal, why don't you two shower together?" Minho calls out to them, a straight face accompanying his words.

You chuckle at his solution, noticing how it manages to stop the arguing in a matter of seconds as they quickly agree on who gets to shower first.

"You're an impressive man, Lee Minho." You laugh when you hear the bathroom door close, hearing him laugh with you in response.

"Hey, it worked." He replies, holding his hands up in defense.

The rest of the night goes by calmly. You and Minho decide to watch a movie while you both wait for his friends to finish washing up, and by the time the movie is over, both his friends are already fast asleep.

"You wanna shower first?" Minho quietly asks you, watching as you shake your head in response.

"No, I wanna take a bath." You reply just as quiet, taking his hand when he offers it to you to help you up.

"Okay, you take a bath, and I'll take a shower."

You nod in agreement, a small smile pulling at your features as you and Minho walk into the bathroom together. You close and lock the door behind you as Minho starts the water for your bath, smirking at the sound of the lock clicking into place.

His smirk doesn't go unnoticed by you, all too familiar with him and all his little antics, but you choose to ignore it, nonetheless.

You look over at Minho, noticing him already staring at you as he waits for the tub to fill up. You take this moment to let your eyes trace over all his facial features. His beautiful bare skin, his soft, pillowy lips that slightly curl upward at the corners as he fights the urge to shy away from your gaze, the way some of his soft strands of hair fall to perfectly frame his face, and lastly, his beautiful brown eyes.

When you finally lock eyes with the man, you can see the slight glint of mischief that stares back at you, watching as his eyes slowly rake down your form.

"Stop that." You lightly scold, watching a smile bloom across his features.

"Stop what?" He asks with a smile, slowly moving his eyes back up your body until he's looking into your eyes again.

"Looking at me like that." You state, crossing your arms over your chest and tilting your head to the side as you eye him down. "You're undressing me with your eyes."

"Would you rather me use my hands?"

Your eyes go wide at his words, watching as he moves from his spot next to the tub to make his way over to you.

"I've done it before, and I'd be more than happy to do it again if that's what you want?"

"Behave yourself, Lee Minho." You tell him, your voice stern as you move to place a hand on his chest, keeping him a few inches away from you. "Your friends are right outside that door."

"They're heavy sleepers, baby." He simply states, gently grabbing the wrist of your hand that's placed on his chest and moving it to your side before he lets his hands grip at your hips. "Can even let the shower run to drown out all your pretty noises."

"Min..." You softly sigh out, feeling your resolve crumble with every passing second.

You feel Minho pull you flush against him by his grip on your hips, and you let out a soft gasp at the action. He presses a kiss to your lips before moving to trail his kisses down to your neck.

"C'mon, baby." He whispers against your soft skin, kissing up your neck until he's hovering by your ear. "You know I'll make you feel so good, pretty."

"Please?" You whisper out, feeling Minho smirk against you before he pulls away from you.

You watch as he quickly turns on the shower, letting the sound of the water hitting the tile walls echo through the bathroom before he turns off the water for the tub. You both quickly discard your clothes, tossing them into a pile that one of you would pick up later. Minho steps into the tub first, hurriedly sitting down and letting his back rest against the wall of the tub.

Once he's settled, he holds a hand out to you, guiding you to stand facing him. He looks up at you, his hands coming to grip at both of your thighs as he presses a kiss to your lower stomach, directly above your mound. You feel your knees grow weak, and he's quick to carefully pull you down to straddle him.

With the way you're positioned on top of him, you can feel his hard length rest between your thighs, and you move your hips from side to side until he's pressed directly between your folds.

"Fuck-" you sigh out, your hips jolting at the feeling of him nestled against your entrance.

"Sensitive, pretty?" Minho quietly asks, watching you nod as your eyes fall closed. "What would happen if I..." he trails off, shifting his hips until he feels his tip press against your entrance.

You jolt once again, effectively pushing the very tip of his length past your entrance. A moan slips past your lips, and you're quick to press your hand over your mouth. Minho then brings his thumb to your clit, rubbing harsh circles into the bud as he watches your eyes roll back.

"Min-" you gasp out, hearing him hum in response as he pushes the entirety of his tip inside you with a groan. "Please!"

"You're awfully needy for someone who was asking me to stop just a few minutes ago, baby." You let out a whine in response, clenching around him when you feel his hands grip at your waist to hold you to hover over him. "Go ahead, sit on it for me, pretty."

You swiftly sink down on his cock, taking every inch of him as your thighs shake at the feeling of him finally stretching you out.

Minho is a man of great patience, so even though he wants nothing more than to pull you against his chest and thrust deep inside you until you both cum, he calmly waits for you to adjust to his size.

You bring your hands to grip at Minho's shoulders, lifting your hips until just his tip is pressed inside you before you drop your hips to meet his. You both let out a moan in unison, and you quickly bounce on Minho's cock, chasing the pleasure that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your mouth agape.

"God, slow down, baby." Minho moans out, feeling you clench around him when he moans again.

Water splashes with each of your movements, occasionally spilling over the side of the tub and onto the tiled floor.

"M'sorry, just need it so bad." You whimper out, your pace faltering when the ache in your thighs finally processes in your brain.

"I'll give it to you, baby, it's okay." He soothes when you collapse against his chest, your hips involuntarily rolling against his.

Reluctantly, he pulls you off his cock, quickly shushing your cries as he turns you around, letting your upper body drape over the side of the tub. He repositions himself behind you, pushing back into you with one harsh thrust of his hips. A loud moan tears from your throat and Minho is quick to pull you up until your back is flush against his chest, pressing a hand over your mouth as he pounds into you from behind.

Your head falls back against Minho's shoulder, moans spilling continuously from your lips as your eyes screw shut. Your mind can't focus on anything other than the way Minho feels inside you and the way his warm, wet skin feels against yours. You feel him everywhere, and yet somehow, it's not enough.

"Just what my baby needs, hm?" Minho breathes out, feeling you clench around him. "Yea, but I bet you'd like it more if you could feel me right here."

You feel him angle his hips just slightly upward before thrusting into you again, his tip pressing right against that gummy spot inside you that has you almost screaming. He feels your walls throb around him, and he buries his head into the crook of your neck to quiet his own moans.

"There it is," he sighs out, feeling your thighs shake against his own as you both near your highs. "Just need you to cum for me, pretty."

He knows the knot in the pit of your stomach is seconds away from unraveling, and to help you get there, his hand slips between your wet thighs, reconnecting with your clit once again to push you over the edge.

That's all it takes for you to cum around him, toes curling, eyes rolling back, and mouth agape as your walls pulse around his throbbing cock. He thrusts into you a few more times before he stills inside you, coating your walls in his release.

He carefully sits back in the tub, pulling you to rest against him as you both fight to catch your breaths. Minho's hands gently knead at your waist, grounding you as your breathing slowly evens out again.

"We might need that shower now." Minho quietly states, watching the steam dance through the room as the shower still runs.

You chuckle in response, glancing at all the water that sparkles in the light on the floor.

"Only if you can keep your hands to yourself."

You feel him carefully pull out of you, a cry tearing past your lips at the sensitivity and feeling of emptiness that immediately takes his place. He quietly shushes you, apologizing as he desperately tries to ignore his cum dripping from your cunt, inevitably failing in the end.

"No promises, pretty."

Main Masterlist

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

▪ Author's Note

This day is HEAVILY inspired by Min's vlogs, truly cannot get enough of him in domestic settings😩

For this work in particular, Lee Know Log 7 and 10😵😵

▪ Taglist

@kpophubb @whatudowhennooneseesyou @skzgallll

Send me a DM or ask to be added to the taglist

▪ Extras

©All rights are reserved to Moonlit-Stay. Stealing, reposting, copying, translating, plagiarizing, and modifying any and all of my work is strictly prohibited.

Released: October 2nd, 2024

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !

#stray kids smut #stray kids smut imagines #stray kids lee minho smut #stray kids lee know smut #stray kids minho smut #lee minho smut #lee know smut #kinktober

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seeingivy · 2 days

Text

i hate it here

phd student eren x f!reader

**part of my canary mate fic

previous part linked here

eren’s doorbell rings an hour early.

haunting, considering the fact that gabi could barely bring herself to be on time in the first place. he noted that it was a particularly plucky habit of hers – one that took him infinitely long to get used to – but one that he found a very creative solution for.

he thought it was a little bit dramatic at first, asking her to come pick him up from his apartment at six in the morning. it felt a little less dramatic when she still showed up at seven fifteen, just in time to drive the two of them to the hospital.

when he swings open the door, it makes complete sense. it’s not gabi at all, which he probably should have been able to guess.

hell would have to freeze over before she made it anywhere on time.

“falco.” eren states.

“good morning, eren! i brought you a coffee.”

falco should have no reason to know where he lives, and maybe more keenly, no reason to be at the place that he lives. he notes that despite the absence, gabi’s beaten down honda civic is still half parked in the driveway – and if her tints weren’t so dark – he figured he’d be able to see her half asleep in the front seat too.

the odd thing about falco was that he always seemed to be unwaveringly nervous whenever eren interacted with him. though he imagined that falco must feel like that most of the time, since he seems to be so overly attached to his tethers that it must have felt debilitating to feel alone.

eren figured it was why he was more antsy than usual. falco was far too attached to the comfort that you and gabi seemed to always provide him.

“i didn’t realize you knew where i lived.” eren states.

“gabi told me. she drove me here, she’s just in the car.”

eren narrows his eyes.

“let me rephrase. i didn’t realize you would invite yourself to where i live. at six in the morning.”

falco gives him an awkward laugh, sheepishly rubbing at the back of his neck, as eren sighs and gestures for him to walk inside. falco seems relieved in the slightest – his mannerisms irritatingly all too familiar – as he tries to wave at gabi from the car.

“is she coming?” eren asks.

“uh…yeah. she’ll… just..just give her a second.”

eren pauses.

“she’s just going to sit out there. alone?”

“yes. she’s…having a weird day. and she’s on the phone.”

eren shrugs. when is she not having a weird day?

falco follows behind him, almost dragging his feet across the hardwood floors, before settling into one of the spare chairs at his kitchen table.

“i wanted to talk to you about something.” falco states.

“well, i gathered you weren’t coming here for breakfast.” eren jests.

falco gives him an awkward smile, rubbing the palms of his hands against the length of his thighs, before he – what eren assumes – musters the courage to talk again.

“i apologize for coming without any notice. i actually hadn’t planned on coming at all, but gabi kind of masterminded this whole plan so i could talk to you. you know how she is.”

eren fights the urge to smile.

“all too well. what is it?”

“i wanted to talk to you again. about my brother.”

eren sighs. he hated shooting people down like this.

“i already said what i did before. i would love to help you but…”

“i brought his updated scans. and i cross checked all the materials that y/n gave me, he…he does qualify to participate.”

eren notes that you had to be in on this plan to corner him. that it probably gave him zero points with you that he hadn't agreed on the first ask.

“i know that he does. my concern is a conflict of interest. i don’t want you to get your hopes up that your brother is going to walk again or not be as tired if he participates in my study, or something.”

falco pinches his lips in a line.

“he can walk. and he…he doesn’t get tired, he just doesn’t remember who i am.”

eren pauses.

“what?”

“he got into a car accident almost a month ago. he was fine but they did some surgery since he hit his head. i don’t know if it happened before or after but he doesn’t remember anything from before. he can make new memories, he just…can’t remember the old ones. there’s nothing that they can really do for him.”

falco places a manilla folder on the table, filled with sets of translucent scans, that eren’s keen to look at – for curiosity sake.

there was no way that he could accept falco’s brother as a participant. not when falco was so deeply involved, which meant that gabi was too. by proxy, he was sure that some protective instinct would kick into your hard drive as well if you were as involved as he thought – which meant that any mistake that he made would be credited to him and him alone.

and he would get caught in the crossfire from three directions.

“it’s the one region that you have missing. and he’s one of the younger ones in the participant pool so it could give you more data regarding age and effects of the treatment.”

eren squints his eyes.

“how many times did gabi make you rehearse that one?

“twice. i also wrote it down on my hand in case i forgot.” falco responds, lifting his hand to reveal the black ink on his palm.

eren smiles, flipping in between the scans to the detailed report at the end.

“i’m sure she’s waiting in the car to give me a lecture.” eren states.

“as backup. she has one more card up her sleeve.” falco states.

“i’m sure this is a great use of her time. spending her paid work hours to find ways to coerce me.” eren states.

falco smiles.

“she’s just very passionate about the subject. she really wants to see a patient in the younger age pool.”

eren laughs.

“i’m sure that she is.” eren states.

eren places the scans back down on the table, utterly intrigued and somewhat hopeful, but able to cross the mark.

he couldn’t give false hope to someone that he knew or irreparably break an interest in research that eren personally had no affinity for.

“falco, i would love to but…”

“can i ask you a question?”

eren leans back, crossing his arms across his chest, before giving him a nod.

“do you really believe in your hypothesis?” falco asks.

“what?”

“do you really think that stimulating the neurons enough can get them to kind of kickstart and start functioning again?”

“in theory. there’s promising research behind it. i certainly didn’t come up with it out of nowhere.” eren responds.

falco nods.

“i know it seems like i’m talking this very lightly. just suggesting my brother participate because i know that he qualifies for the experiment and he just got injured but…but trust me.”

falco pauses.

“erwin has a lot of faith in you. gabi knows how much work you’ve put into this, how you…you love to work with patients and people. even y/n vouched for you. the only reason i want him to participate is because it’s your study. and i trust you too.”

eren restrains himself for asking more about the gleaming recommendations that everyone seemed to give him. though, he was curious about some more than others.

“i appreciate that. and that you think the study will work, it’s...” eren starts

“i’m just asking you to give him a chance. i would never think to blame you when you’re the one doing us a favor by letting him participate. and even if it doesn’t work, i would only be grateful to you. i know you can’t might not understand what it’s like to have someone not remember you but…”

all eren can think about is sweet golden eyes going cold. that the main thing that made eye contact or looking into the eyes of someone he loved warm was that they were softening to him in recognition.

unbeknownst to falco, of course, eren knew the feeling all too well. it’s the only reason that, on impulse, he was inclined to say yes. the despeate look in falco's eyes.

eren imagined that he looked the same when he feels so helpless too.

“okay. i’ll bring him in for all the screening questionnaires and preliminarily accept him for now. if i see any glaring red flags that bar him from participation, i will remove him for his own safety.”

falco’s eyes light up.

“really?”

“you made a striking case. gabi’s played her cards well.”

“oh thank god. and she didn’t even have to use her last one. i’m going to go get her.”

eren sits puzzled as falco basically jumps out of his chair, screaming out the window of the kitchen into the quiet calm of the neighborhood. his hollering is reciprocated with three honks.

and it makes complete sense to him what gabi had intended to do when she wounds up at the door. with falco’s brother on the doorstep.

eren takes the quiet second that falco’s ushering him in to berate her.

“you were going to guilt trip me by watching his brother not remember him in front of my face?” eren whispers.

“you’re a softie. i knew i wouldn’t have to do all that.” gabi responds.

“then why did you bring him?” eren asks.

gabi gives him a peachy, almost innocent smile.

“insurance! which speaking of…i have another proposition to discuss with you.” gabi responds.

right on the dot at eight am, there’s three consecutive knocks on your cubicle.

you look up from your laptop to find eren, accompanied with a set of glasses perched on the bridge of his nose and his red-rimmed eyes staring at you.

the glasses were an abnormal sight; from the amount of time you’ve spent glaring at him, you’ve noted that he almost always gives preference to his contacts. the frames never become less unsettling, but it’s only because they’re almost always accompanied with the red eyes.

like a vampire.

your split second pause at his appearance causes him to knock again, but this time he opts to push his head closer to you as he looks over at your laptop screen in efforts to see what’s causing the delay. you can feel the slight edge of panic – of the canary mate website tab open all the way on the right – as you slam your computer shut and glare at him.

“can i help you, eren?” you ask.

“i highly doubt that you would have any special skills that i would need to request.” eren states.

you pinch your lips into a line. so sharp, even in the morning.

“then why am i being graced with your presence so early in the morning?” you ask.

eren rolls his eyes, scrunching his nose up in the slightest, as he pulls out his phone.

eren doesn’t have the same problem that you do – as he took his due diligence of keeping his online pen pal a secret very seriously – which in his case, included muted notifications every time he set foot into the research lab.

connie was nosy, jean was irritating, and you were always around. his efforts were merely precautionary measures to protect himself and his sweet secret exactly as it was – a secret.

“it seems that my horrendous car luck has passed on to gabi.” he states, as slides onto the screenshot in his images.

you snort.

“you’re like a virus.” you state.

eren glares.

“if only it had passed on to you instead of her.” he responds.

you roll your eyes, before swiveling over to face him properly.

“can you get to the point? you have a really roundabout way of talking. it feels like you can never get to your point, eren.”

it was a low blow. the exact criticism that eren had received from erwin earlier this morning at the lab meeting.

“something that must have rubbed off on me from you, i’m sure. next thing i know, i’m going to start leaving spelling errors in my grant applications.” eren seethes.

you seethe. eren always knew how to dish it back. you were convinced that he only listened during lab meeting to hear the criticism you received – just so he could throw it back in your face later.

and find a way he did.

“can you just get to the point, eren?” you ask.

eren hands his phone over to you, the screenshot of four pinned locations on the map.

“i have been made aware that you have a preference for carpooling in the morning with either falco or sasha.”

“that’s correct.”

“between our research team, only two of us possess vehicles now. we marked out all the locations and it seems that it is more time and cost effective if falco arranges his ride with gabi and i arrange my ride with you. i live two streets down from your apartment.”

you give him a sly smile.

“i thought you highly doubted that there were any special skills that i could provide to you.”

“driving is hardly a special skill.” eren retorts.

“it is when you don’t have a car. and need to rely on someone else to give you one.” you goad.

eren sighs. you swivel back towards your computer, slowly opening up the computer and quickly shutting the tab all the way on the right and pulling up the maps.

“i suppose i have to oblige. and while it is time and cost effective, there is a third, and more superior motive, for falco and gabi.” you respond.

eren raises his eyebrows.

“there is?”

you scoff.

“are you blind? they like each other. riding together means they get more alone time.”

eren rolls his eyes, as leans properly into your cubicle this time, hunching over the back of your chair to be level with your line of sight. you note that his cheek is inches away from brushing yours – that the smell of his cologne is very strong – as he offers the address to his apartment.

“that’s hardly a superior motive. cost and time are more important than something as frivolous as that.”

“it’s not frivolous to them. though, i understand it can be hard to relate to when you don’t understand the feeling.”

eren scoffs.

“and you do?”

no you don’t. at least not right now. at least not in a way that people understood anyways.

“i might.”

“no you don’t. connie talks, far too often. if you had a partner, we’d all be aware of it. and knowing you, he’d be just as irritating as the blonde that sasha brings around.”

you quickly type in the address that eren provided, as you note the route from your street to his.

“niccolo isn’t irritating.”

sometimes he was.

“is he not the reason you spilled coffee all over yourself two weeks ago?” eren asks.

“no. he wasn’t.” you state.

according to sasha and niccolo, he was.

“irritating is the wrong word for it. he’s an…acquired taste. i don’t wish ill towards him at all, it’s just that his demeanor can be a little much as time. as is sasha’s.” eren starts.

you seethe. did he really think you wouldn’t report back to them with every word that he said?

“they’re just –”

“i doubt the sincerity of their enthusiasm all the time. can someone really be so lively at all times? though in my case, that most definitely reflects more on me as a person than it does on them.”

you pause. you pause because you’d had that same exact thoughts – not once or twice, but almost on a daily basis. it’s just that it was coming out of eren’s mouth now.

you pause because eren does, almost frozen at your side, inching towards brushing his cheek against yours, as he shoots up, standing straight behind you. eren clears his throat, entirely dismissing the comment that he just shared, as he sticks his hands in his pockets.

“i can walk to your house so you can avoid the drive. i usually pick up coffee from play in the mornings so i can either compensate you for the gas through a latte or just cash.”

you can’t help but snort.

“are you offering to buy me coffee?”

you squint your eyes at him.

“were you dropped as a kid? you can’t just accept the offer as it is?” eren asks.

there it was. he was back to normal.

“i’ll take the latte. but i’ll drive you there. it’s supposed to rain. wouldn’t want you to look unprofessional.”

eren glares.

“that’s more time required together than necessary.”

you roll your eyes. did he need to be so persistent in his hatred of you?

“that’s more of a hazard for me than it is for you. because of your car virus. and your godawful personality, of course.”

eren gives you a pinched smile.

“i appreciate it, y/n. i’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

there’s barely even a hint of earnestness in his voice.

the message pops up almost the second he leaves.

[busstopbilly]: I hate it here.

[lizontopoftheworld]: so you’ll go to secret gardens in my mind?

[busstopbilly]: That was a statement. Not a quote from The Tortured Poets Department: The Anthology.

[lizontopoftheworld]: did your sister like the album :D

[busstopbilly]: She prefers the standard edition. I like the Anthology.

[lizontopoftheworld]: because you are a poet trapped inside the body of a finance guy?

[busstopbilly]: You could say that.

[busstopbilly]: Except, I hate finance.

[busstopbilly]: Not too keen on poetry.

[lizontopoftheworld]: hilarious

[lizontopoftheworld]: but really. what is it?

[busstopbilly]: My sister is visiting. It seems that I poured her micellar water (whatever that is) into my contacts case instead of the solution last night. It seems whatever it is, it has gone to my brain and caused me to overshare – particularly too much – with one of my peers. That and the fact that two of my peers showed up to my house at six in the morning with a proposition that I’ve hesitantly agreed upon, though I’m not sure if I did the right thing.

[busstopbilly]: It’s definitely not water, by the way. It burned.

[lizontopoftheworld]: OH EW

[lizontopoftheworld]: GROSS

[lizontopoftheworld]: micellar water is like makeup remover. so it definitely had chemicals and stuff in it…

[lizontopoftheworld]: are you blind :O

[busstopbilly]: Quite the contrary. I just wore my glasses instead, though my eyes are slightly pink still.

[lizontopoftheworld]: glasses :O

[busstopbilly]: ?

[lizontopoftheworld]: I am slowly collecting an image of you in my mind based off of things that you have told me. green eyes and glasses (sometimes). that’s all i’m going on.

[busstopbilly]: So close.

[lizontopoftheworld]: and we all overshare. who gaf they probably won’t even remember. and i’m sure you made the right decision.

[busstopbilly]: Oh trust me. She’ll remember what I said.

[lizontopoftheworld]: wallflower…?

[lizontopoftheworld]: :D

[busstopbilly]: Shut up.

[lizontopoftheworld]: remember when u had a crush on wallflower and stalked her entire life before she came to ur program

[lizontopoftheworld]: lol

[lizontopoftheworld]: heheheheheheheh

[lizontopoftheworld]: BRO RESPOND I SWEAR TO GOD

[busstopbilly]: I don’t have a crush on her anymore.

[lizontopoftheworld]: yes yes i recall im just saying its FUNNY

[busstopbilly]: I don’t see the humor.

[lizontopoftheworld]: i’m an acquired taste.

[busstopbilly]: I’m well aware.

[busstopbilly]: Just my type actually.

[lizontopoftheworld]: lame.

[lizontopoftheworld]: i basically set that one up

[busstopbilly]: And you still liked it.

[lizontopoftheworld]: true

[busstopbilly]: :)

focus group is the best day of the week.

the focus group is simple; you, eren, falco, and gabi interview all the participants every week and monitor their baseline levels and compare them as you continue through the treatment.

it starts out that way, but mostly ventures into all four of you staying late to converse with the patients. it’s outside of the parameters, but something that almost everyone – the group of you included – turn your nose away from because it gives the patients something other to do than just sitting around alone when you leave.

“do you have a boyfriend, gabi?”

nanaba loved to get up close and personal.

it was something that you noted the first day you met her, when she lingered around after the focus group to ask you why you seemed to look at eren with such disdain. a rather polite way of asking why the two of you were glaring daggers at each other, but more keenly, something she was clearly nosy about but ready to soothe away with the age old wisdom she seemed and wanted to impart in every sentence.

“the real question is do you want a boyfriend? i’m sure that we could find one for you tomorrow.”

shadis loved to get up close and personal too. a nicer way to describe meddling, but you knew that he was always well-meaning at heart.

and at least he was more in touch with your suspicions about falco and gabi then eren was.

“are you going to go get me one from the store?” gabi asks, earning her a smile from eren, who was glued to the wall and finishing checking off all the signatures from the paperwork.

“why would i need to go to the store? i have a perfectly normal one for you right here.” shadis responds, pointing to falco who goes immediately pink in the face.

“oh, now you’re just embarrassing him.” marco states.

marco bodt was the youngest of the group and the final edition to this pool after falco’s brother.

he was barely twenty-one and with irreparable damage to the right side of his body that impaired most of his motor functions. a similar mechanism to colt, marco was crushed under the metal of his car on the way to the grocery store – he may have survived but he was never the same after.

and seemingly because of it, filled with an over-exerting amount of kindness. but you have a hunch that he was just always like that. the pacifist.

you walk over to the end of the table to where colt is sitting, rather stifly against the back of his chair, with his hands folded directly on the table. the first three focus group he had been to were admittedly overwhelming, but it felt like he was having a hard time adjusting to the dynamics there.

especially after he failed almost all the diagnostic tests that were done after the treatment. he was always more receptive at the start, but a quiet shell by the time you were all done.

falco didn’t take it very well.

“hi colt.”

he gives you a halfhearted smile, his eyes still trained on falco and gabi arguing a few feet away from the two of you, the fight being mediated by eren and his plastic clipboard.

“hi y/n.” he responds.

“how was the session today?”

colt sighs.

“standard.”

“you know, if you would prefer to do this one on one, i can always arrange for you and me to discuss what’s been going on at another time.”

colt shakes his head.

“that would worry falco. if i wanted to hide something from him.”

despite not being able to remember him, it seemed to be the only thing that colt cared about. and one of the only reasons that you were convinced that he was still in there – that you could get him back if you tried hard enough.

“well, we’re not worrying about falco. my main concern is you and what makes you comfortable, so if you prefer to answer questions about everything that’s been going on without him present, i can work something out.”

you pause.

“without him knowing.” you add.

colt gives you a halfhearted shrug, but you can tell that the idea is simmering behind his almost hazel eyes.

“i can tell he gets upset when i don’t get the questions right. i try harder than i should to remember but i’m unsure if that messes up things on your ends if i…i feel this pressure when i’m doing all your tests.”

you look across the room, locking eyes with eren who seems to already be watching, as you gesture for him to join you. and he obliges, quick and quiet as falco and gabi are still being harassed by the lot of them, and crouches down.

“i want to remember my brother. probably even more than him because every interaction i have makes me feel like everyone has something over me, but i just…i just can’t.”

eren gives you a questioning look.

“everything okay?” eren asks.

“i was just discussing with colt here that maybe we could ask his screening questions in private. sans falco and gabi maybe.” you murmur.

“i see. anything that makes you comfortable, colt.” eren offers.

eren’s swift with it, leaning against the chair between the two of you, and with a surprisingly soft smile.

“i want you to do this to the best of your ability. eren and i just want to do this in a way that makes you feel comfortable.” you offer.

eren seems to give you a nudging look, green eyes beaming into yours, as he catches the hint.

“every time it doesn’t work, it gives me a better idea of where to try next. i’ll get the right spot eventually and while it feels like the work is exhaustive right now, it’s narrowing down what’s going to work for you. please know that everything that you do, even the mistakes, tell me and y/n a lot about where we can move forward with this.”

colt sighs, almost like he’s taking a thoughtful second to consider it over.

“i just hate disappointing him. he wouldn’t know…if i wanted to do it with just the two of you?” colt asks.

“not a word.” you affirm.

“don’t tell gabi either. they’re basically attached at the hip – i doubt she would be able to keep it in with the big crush she has on him.” colt jokes.

you smile, reaching to elbow eren in the side. he rolls his eyes, giving you a steely glare, as you turn back to colt.

“eren doesn’t see it. i have now proven him wrong by the majority.”

“about falco and gabi? oh, it’s obvious. he’s like bright pink every time they talk to each other.” colt jokes.

you turn to eren and smile.

“eren’s just painfully oblivious.” you state.

eren gives you a snide smile before glaring at you in full. you swear that he’s fighting the urge to smile when you laugh at him.

“something the two of you have in common.” colt responds.

you give colt a confused look, which finally breaks eren’s silence and makes him laugh, as he gestures for the two of you to join him back at the main group. eren can tell that gabi and falco are being teased enough, the two of them bright pink in the cheeks like colt mentioned, as he leans against gabi.

“alright. we’re all done for the day.” eren states.

“as if. we just started talking about this in seriousness. don’t be ridiculous, eren.” nanaba states.

“don’t be a hard ass. you can stay for thirty more minutes.” shadis adds.

eren gives them a smile.

“while i would love to, i do fear the resident doctor will, for a better lack of terms, be a hard ass and make us leave.”

they all groan.

“not forester.” nanaba groans.

floch forester was the resident physician on wednesdays. the only downside to focus group was making his acquaintance every week, checking through the charts under his jurisdiction and checking out with him at the end.

it was hard to pick one thing about him that was irritating. he was exceedingly arrogant when he explained things to you and eren – always giving the impression that he believed the two of you were incompetent idiots who knew nothing about the topic at all. or just an irritating and agitating prick otherwise.

“i heard him call y/n sweetheart last week.” colt mentions.

there’s a resounding group of gasps as they all turn their heads to you, marco and nanaba’s eyes nearly boggling out of their heads as they basically gesture for you to confirm.

“he was explaining the behavioral scales to me that we use in the grading. i told him there was no need and he responded by saying it’s not a problem sweetheart.” you offer.

you shoot colt a glare, which he only responds to with a smile, as they all break out into their rather melodramatic responses.

“we should have him fired, the prick why is he talking down to her like she didn’t have a job similar to this before?” shadis asked.

“that’s inappropriate. you wouldn’t see him calling eren sweetheart. this is ridiculous.” nanaba adds.

“if it makes you uncomfortable, i’m sure you could report it to someone, y/n.” marco offers.

you laugh, waving your hands at them.

“that would be unnecessary. i didn’t think much of it and i really don’t see him that often anyways.”

eren turns to you and glares.

“you see him every week. if he’s going to make weird comments, you don’t have to put up with it.”

“i’d rather avoid the hassle.” you state.

eren rolls his eyes, firmly crossing his arms over his chest.

“it’s not a hassle. it’s borderline harassment. and with a guy like that, you have to nip things in the bud.”

you roll your eyes.

“it’s not that deep. every time i interact with him, someone is there with me. i’m a big girl and i can ignore it.”

eren sighs.

“you might be a big girl but you have to know you’re not the only girl he does that to. and if he’s not doing it to anyone else now, he definitely will later. you could just check him and put him in his place now. or better yet let me do it.”

you shake your head. if there was one thing floch hated, it was eren telling him what to do. it would be better taste to nip that argument in the bud before it happened.

“it’s fine, eren. if it escalates into something weird, i’ll tell you myself.”

eren gives you a questioning look, almost like he doesn’t believe you, before eren turns back to the group of them.

“i have a sneaking suspicion you won’t.”

you give him a glare, before shaking him off and turning back to the group of them. eren seems to take the hint and follows your suit.

“as always, y/n is a boring topic of conversation. i would love to go back to what we were discussing earlier. i was unaware of these predilections gabi and falco shared.”

eren smiles, turning to where gabi is now giving him an irritated look while falco looks at you with pleading eyes. you shake your heads as shadis and nanaba return to talking about the beauties of love and relationships. eren waits for the conversation to get rowdy enough to the point where they’re arguing, which gives the two of you the time to slip away and turn in the documents to the front desk.

“i can bring your stuff down if you want to bring the car around. i can also go get the car for you if you’re scared to walk in the dark.” eren offers.

the kindness is strange. but you can tell it’s only transactional so he would have an excuse to fight with floch.

“it’s barely sunset.” you state.

eren shrugs.

“there could be perverts in the parking lot.”

the two of you note an unmistakable head of red hair walking down the hallway and internally groan.

“i’d argue that they’re actually inside.” you murmur.

you note that eren smiles as floch walks up to the two of you, his fists deep in his white coat as he gives you an almost synthetic smile.

“jaeger. y/n. always a pleasure to see you. how are my patients?” floch asks.

“requesting a new doctor. desperately.” eren states.

you note that floch’s eye twitches, but still offers a fake peachy smile.

“you have an interesting sense of humor, eren.”

“i wasn’t joking.” eren deadpans.

you can’t help but smile, as floch turns over to you.

“and how are you, sweetheart?”

“i’m fine.”

eren signs, almost exasperatedly at your side, before talking. eren had an issue with keeping his thoughts to himself. but this was the first time that it worked in your favor.

“it seems that we’ll be requesting a new doctor to work with too.” eren states.

“and why is that?”

“you’re borderline harassing my co-worker.”

“harassing?”

“she has a name. it’s y/n. it would be best practice for you to use it.” eren states.

floch rolls his eyes, as he signs off on the paperwork at the top of the deck, that eren snatches from him just as fast.

“she’s never corrected me.” floch states.

“because i doubt you let her get a word in. she introduced herself to you as y/n. you should refer to her as such.”

floch puts his hands up, almost jokingly like he’s guilty, and you can’t help but sneer at him.

“sue me. i’m sorry, y/n. i will refrain. unless things ever change between us, of course.”

you turn to eren, giving him a disgusted look, as he gestures for you to leave. you take the hint as such, hopping down the stairs and leaving the two of them to it as you rush towards the car. and two flights down, you feel the familiar buzz in your pocket.

[busstopbilly]: I still hate it here.

[lizontopoftheworld]: boo

[lizontopoftheworld]: same lowk. everyday i become a bigger misandrist

[busstopbilly]: Tell me about it.

[lizontopoftheworld]: random tangent

[lizontopoftheworld]: how is your mom

[busstopbilly]: The other day she was having a difficult time. Called me by my dad’s name.

[lizontopoftheworld]: ….

[lizontopoftheworld]: ouch

[busstopbilly]: Yeah. It is what it is. There’s some good days where she tries to tell me storeis she’s never told me before. It’s weird to think that they won’t be there at some point.

[lizontopoftheworld]: yeah i’ve been thinking about that a lot. if it’s better if it goes all at once or if you…have to watch them go away

[lizontopoftheworld]: what do you think?

[busstopbilly]: Biased, but watch them go away. It’s hard to have a good day sometimes and a bad day the next. My sister actually came to stay with me since she was having a rough time kind of dealing with the up and down. Emotionally.

[lizontopoftheworld]: :(

[lizontopoftheworld]: it’s hard when you’re a teenager

[lizontopoftheworld]: is your moms condition genetic?

[busstopbilly]: Yeah.

[busstopbilly]: It’s scary to think about sometimes.

[busstopbilly]: I don’t want to forget you.

[lizontopoftheworld]: lucky for us, every interaction we’ve ever had has been perfectly preserved. i’d read them all to you until you remembered.

[busstopbilly]: You stole that from the Notebook.

[lizontopoftheworld]: the thought still counts >:(

[busstopbilly]: I can make an exception. Everything counts with you.

[lizontopoftheworld]: i really hope you don’t forget me either.

[busstopbilly]: Well, I imagine that it would be insanely hard to do that. You’re basically scored on my heart, you know?

[lizonotopoftheworld]: you stole that from me before you

[busstopbilly]: The thought still counts.

[lizontopoftheworld]: yeah yeah i'll make an exception or whatever

[lizontopoftheworld]: i will note that your impeccable memory of all the cheesy movies i have made you watch is a great sign :)

[busstopbilly]: Very hopeful but I’ll have to agree on this one.

you look up from your phone when you hear the crunching of gravel, accompanied by eren walking up to the car and greeting you with a wave. you shove your phone in the pocket and abandon the conversation.

“any pervert encounters?”

“just you.” you state.

“I could say the same.” eren responds, as he walks around to the side door and crawls into your front seat.

an: this is setup. I also haven't written in forever so its bad. sorry.

taglist: @invisible-mori @multiplefandomthings @chericos @wheredidmycrowngo @chaoticpxnda @aizzon @stuffeddeer @butterfly-skinnylegend @najaemism @hellokitty-doll @constanciandrea @iblamesusy @jaegersdiary @f4irygard3n @misadear @fell-4-u @coyloves @sobbangchan @you-always-made-me-blush @th0tformikasa @yell0wdreams @itzmeme @elliesbabygirl @miniaturemartian @differentrunawayperson

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szynkaaa · 2 days

Note

This is my first time asking but I'm going to ask anyway (and English is not my native language) I'm curious to know how your OC and the destined one met (I mean how was their first interaction)

hi hi! thank you so much for your ask, this is the first time I have received one about my OC <3

probably something like this (read right-to-left)

Gonna use this chance to talk a bit more about my AU lol

Wrote in a separate post here that Oz has met Sun Wukong before when she was a child and he was buried under the mountain.

So when she got whisked back into fantasy ancient China, she landed where Yuan Shoucheng aka Gourd Grandpa (the old man carrying a big gourd on his back) was already waiting there for her. He foresaw her arriva. The vague gist of my AU is that the the reason why this Destined One succeeds in retrieving all artifacts and becomes SWK is because he is also sort of the manifestation of that childish promise 5-years-old Oz made that she will save SWK one day (from under the mountain but clearly that didn't happen lol). But also since her ancestor is from this world, her descendants were fated to return back here one day.

Gourd grandpa updates her on her ancestors and their roles in the Celestial Court and the shitstorm that happened that ultimately let to the clan being massacred and one person escaping to "our" world, where magic doesn't exist and all those people are just characters from myths and stories. But also her ancestor isn't the only person that traversed through the two worlds - over the centuries more have come and gone. This is also why people in her world have those myths and deities. In my AU Wu Cheng'en also escaped from fantasy ancient China into her world and then wrote Journey to the West. He took artistic liberty to change some things for his novel, hence some things in BMW are different than in JTTW (like the ZBJ and violet spider love story or how SWK had a romance with White Bone Demon).

Anywayyy, Oz task on the adventure is to document their journey together, and she is responsible for using the magical gourd to suck in the will of the defeated bosses in.

And 2-3 days later the Destined One shows up. I don't think Oz was very happy about leaving gourd grandpa and join the Destined One on his travel, but if he is her best chance to find a way back home to see Taylor Swift live, then she will do it.

The Destined One is indifferent to mildly annoyed about this, but doesn't protest too much, as long as she doesn't slow him down yadda yadda. I do think that DO did feel some sort of special connection to her, because he is sort of a manifestation of that promise. it doesn't really take long for him to get used to her and also to care for her. One of Sun Wukong's massive core trait is that he cares so much for his loved ones and does not hesitate to do the impossible for them, and I like to imagine that even though SWK senses have been split into 6 different parts, the caring part stayed with each Destined One reincarnation.

#szynkART #the ham talks #yes #the DO falls first #but Oz falls harder #also also Oz is a splitting image of her ancestor that fled the celestial court to her world (not a reincarnation)#the celestial court blamed the clan for something they wre innocent of hence #but it was an excuse to slaughter the clan #gourd grandpa was a friend of her great great great great 10x grandma #and Erlang Shen saw the injustice in this all so he was the one who obtained the portal scroll and helped the ancestor to escape #after BMW it think it's on brand for him to do that #played with the idea that maybe they were engaged but it was a one-sided love (erlang lol) but eh #it would be weird to see their descendeant that is a splitting image of your loved one LOL #anyway. I have liks SO MANY lore ideas for Oz if you wanna know more feel free to drop and ask!#cepheus baskerville #black myth wukong #black myth wukong oc #sun wukong #sun wukong x oc #sun wukong x reader

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celiime · 8 hours

Text

thinking about how life with satoru would be if he had survived. how there’s just something about living with gojo, something so domestic, something so…heartwarming. especially after the war has ended.

living in heaven.

your eyes softened, fingers softly trailing down the side of his face as your thumb smoothed over the scar by his eye—delicately, as if you were afraid to break this god sleeping infront of you—only an addition to the multitude of other scars on his features.

for a moment back there, you thought you had lost him, you thought you wouldn’t be able to see him again—that you would have to wake up in this bed alone, without him.

“i don’t…” for the first time since you’ve known her, shoko ieiri—your former classmate—seemed hesitant to speak, as if her breath was lodged in her throat, “don’t think i can guarantee you anything.”

at those words, though you knew you’d hear something similar to that, your breath hitched, eyes immediately drifting to land on the sight of your husband—torso separated from his lower half (you already threw up at the sight earlier)—gaze blurred by tears.

it wasn’t fair. what did she mean she can’t guarantee anything? does she mean that you won’t get him back?

despite your inner turmoil, the anguish tearing apart all the muscles in your chest—atrial, ventricular, and all the other muscles that you could distinctly feel being torn apart right this second—going all the way up to your throat, wanting to tear its way out—to demolish everything in its path. to avenge what should’ve been.

you think you could feel your body almost giving out.

you only nodded your head, gaze drifting to the floor tiles, the smell of antiseptic and everything unpleasant wafting into your nose, drowning out all your senses, “i trust you.” and you did, you trusted her.

she had always been trustworthy, doing her best, and you knew she wouldn’t let herself rest as long as gojo was on that table.

as much as he was—no, is—your husband, he was —is—also her best friend.

the woman infront of you—still upholding her composed features—bit down on her lip, a small sigh escaping her after a few seconds of silence, “in case anything happens…” in case he died right on that table, in case she couldn’t save him, “do you want to have a few words with him?”

shoko was never one for sentiment, she never really thought of saying her goodbyes to her loved ones as the first thing when she sees them on the table.

however, she knew you. she knew that you needed this, and she would keep you content—as she had promised gojo.

a few minutes passed, that ended up with you sitting beside him, on a chair that dug so persistently onto your side, your hip bone persisted—yet the pain was soon dismissed by the one in your chest, the ache stronger than any pain or dull ache in your side.

your hands, marred with scars and blood, trembled as you placed your hand in his own—fuck, it was so cold—weakly intertwining your fingers within his own, ignoring the shudder going through your body as soon as you held his hand fully.

your breaths quickened, shoulders trembling as you stared down at him, wanting nothing more than to rip out your own heart and replace it with his own.

to give him a beating heart once more.

despite your best efforts, a sob slipped from your lips, not bearing the sight of him laying so lifelessly before you. no sign of a smile or a playful glint in those eyes of his that—much to your dismay? relief?—were still wide open.

you have full faith in shoko, you really do. however, you just can’t help it, you can’t help the fear that crawls to your heart, suffocating you. but most of all, you can’t help the guilt you feel, the regret, the shame.

why didn’t you say goodbye? why did you allow yourself so foolishly to think that gojo is invincible? fuck—you still remember your last—no, don’t think like that—interaction with him.

“wish me luck!” your husband chirped, that wide beam never departing from his lips as he stood proudly in front of you, never hunching his tall stature despite the weight on it.

you quirked an eyebrow, an amused smile playing on your own lips, “do you really need luck, ‘toru? Is my faith not enough?” you managed to utter out, despite the concern and fear residing in the depth of your heart.

at your words, a small chuckle left his lips, eyes softening—the edges of his lips softening into a smile full of fondness, “nah, you’re right. you’re my good luck charm.” he placed a hefty palm on your head, a small snicker escaping him as your glare directed up at him as soon as you felt him messing up your hair.

“though—“ his voice was quick to interrupt the serene moment, a teasing lilt to his voice—that, maybe if you had focused enough, had an edge to it, one that carried doubt, worry, and…fear?

(you think so, you just couldn’t catch onto it before it dissipated from his tone.)

“shouldn’t a wife wish her husband a farewell when he’s heading into such a tough battle? you know! to smother him with worry and kisses?” he inquired, a teasing smile on his lips, “maybe wish him a goodbye if you’re so gracious! who knows if i’ll make it back?” he pouted, finding the time to insert in his theatrics even when uttering such words.

you should’ve put some consideration into his words, should’ve took them to heart—but you didn’t. you didn’t. because why would he be serious if his words were spoken so playfully? when you know that he’s the strongest? when you were so sure that he was sure that he would also make it out alive? he had to be, right?

you huffed out a playful scoff, shaking your head fondly, “you’re being dramatic. you’re going to see me later, anyways. no need for farewells, ‘toru!” you hated farewells, he knew that.

you flashed him a bright smile, hoping it would express the love you had for him despite how you seemed to turn down his request. “we’ll both see eachother later.”

were you?

were his words really genuine?

…

maybe they were. you should’ve taken them seriously. now you’re paying the consequences, the consequences of not being perceptive enough—oh, how your heart aches for your husband.

“maybe wish him a goodbye if you’re so gracious! who knows if i’ll make it back?”

another sob ripped out of your lips as you held his hand tighter, the tips of his fingers turning a faint purple from how tight you gripped onto his hand. “please—“ you don’t think you’ve ever sounded so weak, so defeated, “i’ll say goo—goodbye! anything you want, i’ll—i’ll give you anything you want. please—“

he would’ve cooed at you, had he seen you this mess of tears, snot, and cracking tone.

oh, your baby.

“at least—“ you lowered your forehead to rest upon his chest, shoulders caving in once you realized the absence of a heartbeat, “at least wake up for a few seconds so i could say goodbye, so you would die assured!”

you wanted to hear the sound of his heartbeat, the sound of his faint breaths, the sound of his lashes fluttering as he blinked. you wanted to listen to anything and everything as long as it indicated that he’s still with you.

you desperately prayed that day, drowning in your own tears and snot as you begged and pleaded for shoko to succeed.

to spare you the loss of a beloved.

shoko is indeed a gift to the world, a woman who deserves all worthy praise.

your eyes drifted downwards to your husband, his eyes fluttering open in an attempt to open them, before scrunching them shut as soon as the rays of light seeping through the windows struck them. he huffed out a low groan—a sound that had your heart jumping in ecstasy, even though it normally wouldn’t—reaching one long arm out and wrapping it around your waist.

a small giggle fled from your lips as soon as you felt him burying his head in your chest at an attempt to escape the light.

“what’re you laughing about, huh? you’re so evil.” he huffed, seeking comfort in the warmth of your chest. “you left the curtains open so your poor husband could suffer in the morning!”

yet, despite his protests—the sound of your giggle was enough to alleviate his mood. enough to make him silently thank the stars that he got so lucky to live another day to be able to wake up next to you.

he doesn’t know what would’ve become of him if there happened to be an afterlife, doesn’t know how he would’ve fared with the realization that he’s left you all alone.

he’s thankful he doesn’t get to discover if there is an afterlife or not. hems thankful that he never died on that operation table. he’s thankful for so many things and the most important one being—

his eyes drifted over your face, watching the way your lips quirked up into a smile as you tried to suppress another upcoming giggle, a prominent dimple appearing on your cheek, eyes almost scrunched shut in the enjoyment coursing through your body.

you.

your expression was a stark contrast to the that day, the day when he woke up, the tears long gone from your eyes, voice no longer hoarse.

“you’re so dramatic, ‘toru.” you fondly rolled your eyes, burying your hand in his hair and running it through it—internally cooing at the pleased breath that leaves his lips—

you can’t believe you would’ve had to live without this had the universe decided to torture you. had the worst case scenario happened.

“you know i’d never purposefully set you up like that.” you hummed, a disappointed sound leaving your lips as he drew away from your touch.

his heart melted, almost folding and going right back into your embrace.

his little wife was so smitten with him. he could melt right in his spot.

instead, he placed a hand on the back of your head, gently tugging it towards his chest—heart aching with the need to hold you close to him, to give you a feeling of a shield protecting you, to be gentle with you and grant you everything you want.

his poor baby. he can’t imagine the worry you must’ve been in. his heart aches with both fondness and sorrow as he remembers the state you were in.

“let’s sleep some more..” he mumbled, already feeling his eyelids start to flutter shut; the feeling of you in his arms both intoxicating and comforting, inducing sleep.

“baby, we slept for 14 hours??”

“shhhh…might as well complete the whole 24, you know i’m tired!”

“tired from sleeping, maybe.”

“mean! you know i need my beauty sleep! you can clearly tell who doesn’t get their beauty sleep here…”

huh?!

“what the—you take that back!”

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