#i just felt the writing of these moments could have been better

[fushiguruuzzzz]

જ⁀ SAY IT TO MY FACE

“It was rare for Yuji Itadori to keep things from you. He didn’t like keeping secrets, it made something tight bud in his chest and made him feel guilty every time he looked at you. He only ever kept one secret, not only from you, but from the world.”

Now playing :: Rises The Moon — Liana Flores

Yuji Itadori x F!Reader

Words — 5.7k

Contents — 4+1 fic, violence, kidnapping, distress, mentions of death/loss, I can’t write fights for shit, no actual angst this time because I feel bad for hurting people again and again oops, but maybe angst if you squint?, I don’t proofread, lmk if I missed any <3

In a mess of crushing expectations and unfamiliar fluttering in your chest, you somehow cross paths with Tokyo’s one and only Spiderman. Maybe the eerie similarity he has to your best friend isn’t a coincidence at all, nor is the odd care he has for you. OR Four times Spiderman loved you, one time Yuji did it himself.

a/n — hi sofia yes this is for you teehee @rreveurdoll . I actually love spiderman yuji so much he’s been sitting in my notes app since august he just suits it saurrrrrrrr well I can’t do this it’s so uhghhughf. Also iera agreed with me so it was my final push hai ily

There was always a certain sort of familiarity about spiderman, a tranquil warmth that reminded you of something you could never quite put your finger on. It radiated from him like aura, constantly flowing but never really explaining itself. It was apparent in the way he held you—arm under your knees and another around your shoulders, almost as if he knew you were ticklish in the sides, like he knew you better than you knew yourself. The way he talked to you like he’d done it a million times before, his eyes lingering on the curve of your lips for just a beat too long, it was just so… knowing. Every time he interacted with you, it felt like he knew something you didn’t. That was because, well, he did.

It was rare for Yuji Itadori to keep things from you. He didn’t like keeping secrets, it made something wretched bud in his chest and made him feel guilty every time he looked at you. He only ever kept one secret, not only from you, but from the world. The hundreds, maybe thousands of people that might kill him if given the chance. And if you knew, maybe they’d get to you too. He couldn’t have that. It already haunted his every waking moment and it hadn’t even happened yet. Yet. That was the thing, it could happen at any moment. If he was the cause of your demise, he couldn’t forgive himself. So he tried his best, tried to keep his lips sealed the best he could, even if he struggled sometimes.

The first time you met spiderman, he almost screwed up. Already.

You’d somehow gotten caught up in the midst of a battle, the bakery you worked at getting completely annihilated by the commotion, so being the ever brave and courageous citizen you were, you ran for your fucking life. You somehow found it in you to remain at least relatively calm… until barely dodging a chunk of concrete thrown your way. The composure seemed to fade from there. You could feel your heart jumping out of your chest, but all you could think about was that you were lucky it was still beating.

That’s when he came swinging in. Literally. It was a flash of red out of the corner of your eye at first, you barely even paid any mind to it. But then his voice rang out with a call to you, and you couldn’t look the other way anymore.

“Hey! Y- miss!”

You took a moment to glance back, your loss of breath catching up to you as you panted and heaved. His feet hitting the ground was nothing but a small thump, swallowed up by the chaos bleeding in around you. “You can’t be out in the open like this. It’s dangerous.”

You couldn’t see his face, but you could basically hear the furrow of his brows. Through your pants, you managed gasp out a reply that you fear was just a bit too sassy. “I know. That’s why I’m running.”

His face fell just the slightest bit under the mask, but beneath that layer of latex was almost a smile. He found it hard to be amused right now, because honestly, when he saw you he felt like throwing up. Even before that, when he’d looked at the destroyed shell of what was your workplace, something sick twisted in his gut. It wasn’t fear, no, more than that. After every punch at the enemy came a glance among the crowd, desperately hoping to see you in one piece. When he landed in front of you and the first thing you’d said was dry and sassy and completely you, he couldn’t help the way his nerves felt just a little less racked. He wanted to hug you, to pull you into his arms and tell you how happy he was to see you, maybe get a kiss if he was lucky– huh?

But he wasn’t Yuji, and only Yuji had that sort of privilege. He was spiderman. He was a masked vigilante that you’d never been face to face with, so he tried to keep up the act. Therefore all he did was reply with a soft “yeah” before scooping you up and carrying you to safety, because that’s what spiderman does. He would’ve done it for anyone, really! But he handled you with just a bit more care, just a bit more warmth in those blank white eyes of his suit, because you weren’t just anyone. You were you.

He left you on the side of an untouched street feeling breathless and confused. Maybe you were naive, because his voice alone should’ve told you exactly who it was from the beginning. But there was a ringing in your ears from the noise, and your knees felt wobbly as well as your lips. You could barely think straight, so who could blame you? Mentally unmasking Tokyos famous spiderman wasn’t a common task in any situation, especially yours. Assuming it was your best friend felt crazy. Instead you remained oblivious and shaken on the side of the street, and he remained determined in the fight thinking of nothing but you.

— ⋮ ᰔ

The second time you met spiderman, the circumstances still weren’t great, but this time your life wasn’t on the line. Well, at least not literally.

The nights air was cold, nipping at your tear stained cheeks and clinging to the dampness left in its wake. Your eyes stung, both from the chill and the bitterness that welled up in your waterline and spilled over, only to drip down and fade away into the fabric of your jeans. Completely insignificant, but to you, they fell heavy. They beat down on you in a mocking rhythm, every droplet a reminder of the crushing weight of your failure. It was suffocating, but truly, would the lightness be any better? Would the complete lack of fulfillment, whether that be bliss or anguish, be less unbearable than the ache in your shoulders and the squeezing in your chest? You think that if it were, you wouldn’t still be sticking around. You wouldn’t be doing this. You just would’ve liked to feel less alone in the midst of it.

Your legs dangled freely over the stairs, the rusted metal of the fire escape not doing much to cage you in. As you swung them, felt nothing but air and the awareness of the ground so distant below, you got a taste of the lightness. A taste of your freedom, of your insignificance. Maybe that was all you needed to handle the rest of the weight.

As if your longing had been personally alerted to the universe, you heard a shuffling behind you. Your head whipped around just a little too fast—making something in your neck pop and reminding you that you really need to stop hunching over your laptop—enough to make your panic rather obvious. You were about to wonder how someone even made it up here, but then you saw him. The culprit stopped in his tracks, raising his two covered hands in an (unnecessary) surrender. It wasn’t like you could defend yourself if you tried, anyway. You were sat awkwardly on a set of rusted metal stairs with about two feet of space to run. You were no match for him. Fortunately for you, Yuj- spiderman wouldn’t dare hurt you. When you continued to stare at him through your teary eyes with a question he couldn’t answer, he realized he hadn’t come up with something to say. Luckily, you beat him to it.

“…spiderman?” Your voice was confused, small and almost weak as you tried to swallow the lump in your throat. He stared at you for a moment, only then remembering who he was. Right now he was spiderman, a stranger, and he had to act accordingly. The thing was—Yuji didn’t know how to act like a stranger to you. You’d become such a constant in each others lives that treating you as if you were unfamiliar simply defied the blood in his veins, the beating of his heart. He felt it thump angrily in his chest at the mere thought, because how could he feign distance when you were the one it beat for?

He cleared his throat. “Hi.”

A million questions ran through your head, countless quips or remarks, but your throat constricted around them and forbid them from jumping out. “Why are you… here?” you asked. Your voice was uncharacteristically bland, tired. He didn’t like it.

He shrugged, head tilting to the side. He leaned against the building, an attempt to be casual, but the brick was digging into his back and every sense he had was screaming at him to leap forward and hold you, to take the mask off and be who you needed. But when he considered the thought, the images of what might follow flashed through his mind like memories yet to come. He kept the mask on.

“Well, I was out… you know… doing spiderman things. And then I saw you. Looked like you could use a friend.”

Honestly? Yuji being out here was no sort of coincidence. The moment he’d felt a familiar tingling in the back of his mind, he was landing here before he could question why. In his soul, he knew why, knew it better than anyone. If Yuji couldn’t be there for you because he was spiderman, spiderman would have to fill in.

He paused, eyes trailing over the sag in your shoulders and the darkness under your eyes. You looked different than the last time he’d seen you—had it been weeks? A pang of something glum shot through him at the realization.

“What about you?” he asked, that teasing, spiderman-esque tone fading into something softer.

“Huh?”

“What’re you doing out here?”

You swallowed thickly. You felt as if you were stuck on a tightrope, looking between a reaching hand and the ground below. Let him slip his hand into yours, hoping it pulls you up, or fall? You were willing to take that risk. “Just… been fucking up a lot lately, I guess. This is my escape.”

He paused for a second. “Was that a pun?”

He felt victorious as he took in the subtle curl of your lips. “But forreal, what do you mean screwing up?”

A soft sigh left your lips, the air pooling in what looked like smoke around your face. You liked that—you could tell yourself that was the reason for your blurry vision, not that you were crying. Your fingers were twitching, and he wished he could take them.

“Just… nothing has been going right. Got my ass kicked by finals, I feel like shit, and- and usually I’d have my best friend, but…” you felt a painful throbbing in your chest, what you were about to admit feeling sour and wrong on your tongue. “He hasn’t been answering lately, he’s been… distant. Maybe he’s getting sick of me or something, I wish I knew.”

Yuji felt a tightening in his chest that was almost painful. Him. It was him. His spider sense had called him to fix a problem that he was the cause of. Sick of you? No, he could never be sick of you, but right now he felt ill. “He’d never,” he blurted without thinking, only realizing how odd that sounded once it had already reached your ears. “I mean– I’m sure he loves you.” His eyes widened comically. He kept blabbering, and it was only making things worse. “You seem lovely. Uh-“

To his surprise, you laughed. “Okay, okay, I get the point. Thanks… I think?”

He felt the heat that was crawling up his neck lower, simmer into a comfortable nothingness. “You’re welcome.”

By some strange coincidence, Yuji showed up at your door what must’ve been a mere three hours after your masked friend swung away into the night.

He seemed out of breath—almost panting, as if he’d just run a marathon (or fought the green goblin). He stood in your doorway, pink locks of hair rubbed in all different directions, chest rising and falling erratically.

Before you could open your mouth—ask what he was doing here and what sort of physical activity he was doing in the middle of the night, maybe—he was hugging you. His firm arms slithered around your waist, tugging you towards his chest without a word. He held you just a little tighter than usual, like he’d been waiting to do it for far too long. He had been.

“I haven’t seen you in two weeks,” he murmured, breath warm against your skin.

“I know.” Your words held a sense of bitterness, but you were hugging him back with a tenderness that contrasted what you wanted to feel.

“I missed you.”

How could he say something like that? How could he disappear for weeks and then come back and make your heart clench, because you know he means it? This was Yuji. Your Yuji. He talked to stray cats on the side of the road and was always there to lend a helping hand, whether that be to a sweet old lady or a convicted felon. He wouldn’t say he missed you if he didn’t, and either way, you knew he did. Whether it felt like it or not, you knew Yuji. You knew he missed you, felt it in the way his fingers gripped at the fabric of your shirt. It was almost desperate, like he was a shell of a man in need of fulfillment. As much as you wished you hated it, you wanted to be that for him.

That’s how you ended curled in bed, Yuji’s eyes trailing over your face for just a little too long, so much so that you weren’t sure he’d paid any attention to the movie in the first place. You didn’t say anything, but Yuji kept you just a little bit closer that night.

— ⋮ ᰔ

The third time you crossed paths with spiderman, it was you who sought him out. Well, sought is a strong word, you’d prefer to say that you gravitated towards him naturally. That wasn’t completely a lie, there truly was some sort of magnetic pull to him drawing you near, but your approach was completely by choice. But that wasn’t a conversation you were ready for, many layers of psychological complexities that you weren’t prepared to peel back, so you instead focused on the blurry red feet dangling from the rooftop and how you’d get up there to join them.

After a number of laps around the building that you’d need two hands to count, you hit the jackpot. Sitting humbly within the shadows of the dark, grey alley was a ladder. It was rickety and rusted and you feared it would be the last thing you ever saw—but it was a chance. Everyone took chances, didn’t they? Everything was a chance, in its own way. Love, hate, that answer scribbled into the last page of your exam that you’re not quite sure about. Spiderman took a chance every time he rounded a new building with those webs of his, took an even greater one with every fight and interaction with the public. He took a chance when he came to see you on that sullen night, and you still didn’t know why, but you knew you’d make it your mission to at least somewhat return the favour.

The metal was piercingly cold as your fingers wrapped around it, eliciting a wince from you, but only prompting you to hold on tighter. The sound of your boots clanking against the steps, the small grunt that left your lips as you threw yourself onto the roof—so many sounds barely heard beneath the never ending roar of the city. You heard sirens in the distance, and you wondered why spiderman was sitting in front of you instead of trailing near them.

His eyes met yours (sort of), and Yuji felt something warm flow through his veins. He felt his heart beat just a little quicker, thumping in time with your approaching footsteps. Suddenly the sirens didn’t seem so loud, the curse of his heightened senses not feeling so overwhelming as your face came into the light cast from below.

“Hey, y/n.” He spoke gently, like the words were something delicate, and they’d shatter if said too harshly.

He watched the way your eyes widened just slightly, brows twitching upwards in mild surprise. “You know my name?”

With a slightly wonky smile that you couldn’t see, he nodded. “Small world.”

“Isn’t it?”

Your words were meant to be a light response, but they only made the weight in his chest feel all the more dense. He turned back ahead, the cartoonish white eyes of his mask reflecting an infinite, erratic pattern of streetlights. His shoulders hung a little lower than usual, something you didn’t fail to catch. You sat beside him, legs hanging over the side of the building. The structure was sturdy and solid beneath your thighs, far more than both the barely-there balance of the ladder and his trembling breaths.

“It’s not, though,” he said softly, so quiet that it was almost whisked away by the winds of the evening. “The world is big. Too big.”

You tilted your head, hands pressing into the concrete to support your weight, but itching to reach out to him. You couldn’t give a reason why if asked, nothing other than the unspoken tranquility between you, like you knew much more than you spoke aloud. “What do you mean?” you asked.

“It’s too big. There’s too many people, so many that I can’t… I can’t save everyone. There’s always casualty in the wake of disaster, because the amount of people barely goes down each time. But- but they’re all people, they all deserve to be saved, but… they can’t.”

His words hung in the air, and invisible force between you that pushed down on his shoulders and deepened the furrow in his brows.

“You’re right,” you said. His head turned more quickly than it should’ve—he wasn’t expecting that response from you. Maybe you’d have given Yuji a different answer than you would spiderman. “Not everybody can be saved, but you still save people. A lot of them. Imagine if you never showed up, how many more people would die? A lot. Maybe you can’t save everyone, but you still save people, and that is what makes you good.”

It was as if your words were a sirens song, soothing him to silence and easing his thumping heart. For the first time ever, Yuji wasn’t exactly sure what to say. “Yeah,” he breathed after a moment, voice choked. “Yeah, you’re right.”

He looked up at you for a beat longer, taking in the way the ridges of your face were cast over by shadows, the way your hair fluttered and danced with every gust of wind. “Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “That friend you mentioned before… he’s lucky to have you.”

You shook your head gently. “If you met him, you’d think otherwise,” you said, oblivious to the fact that though spiderman hadn’t technically met Yuji Itadori, he knew him very well. “He’s great. Much better than me.” The corners of your lips quirked up fondly, something he could only describe as love being the force that pushed your smile wider. “He’s great,” you said, more breathily this time.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The next hour or so was spent sharing mindless conversation, reminiscing over teenagehood in a way that made spiderman feel so close, but so far. He couldn’t rid himself of that odd feeling beneath his ribcage, the one that felt like his heart was trying to escape, wailing your name and clawing at him from the inside out. Luckily, the spider-suit did enough to keep it contained.

— ⋮ ᰔ

The atmosphere was tumultuous, the sound of the concrete around them crumbling accompanied by an occasional hiss of web shooting from Yuji’s suit. He moved with a choppy sort of grace, bouncing across alleys and buildings alike.

“I’m sure you could do better than that,” he teased, faux cockiness thick in his tone. A tense, tightly strung determination bled through his tone, too intense to be concealed by thickly coated boyish charm. He lingered on the wall of one building just for the sake of mocking his foe, head tilted to the side almost as if he was genuinely interested.

He quickly flung himself away, just barely missing the swinging, mechanical arm aimed at him.

“Ah ah, keep up!” he quipped, though his voice rose with a small yelp as he finished his sentence. It was clear his opponent only got further angered with every tease, wails of rage growing louder with every swing. Spiderman smiled bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Hah… guess I shouldn’t get too cocky…”

His opponent was some big guy, clad in countless layers of precocious technology that reflected the suns light like a mirror. What he assumed was his chest beneath all that metal was heaving, pants leaving his mouth. Suppose tech can’t compete with physical stamina, at least not in this scenario.

“You’ll regret this, spiderman!” he roared, voice scratchy, like he hadn’t used it in ages. “Surrender now, or I’ll have to do something I don’t want to. Don’t– don’t make it difficult.” His words got darker with every proceeding syllable, almost enough to make Yuji nervous. He was used to these threats, and they were empty more often than not.

“Yeahhh…” he drawled, unconvinced. But there was something in him that twisted his gut—not his spider-sense, but something… different. Something in his heart told him to worry.

Shaking his head, he made another advance in the direction of the enemy. He hadn’t bothered to remember his name, he’d never been a problem until now.

Swerving his hit, the big man continued. “I’ve been studying you, spiderman-“ he cut himself off with a groan, his incessant speech resulting in an impact meeting his side.

He grinned, malicious and knowing. As if he knew this was a game of cat and mouse, and he had him trapped like a rat. Something about it made Yuji hesitate, made that unfamiliar feeling in his heart throb. Yuji opened his mouth to retort, to at least attempt some sort of return that suited his sarcastic, spiderman fashion, but he was cut off.

“Or rather, I’ve been studying Yuji Itadori.”

He felt himself go immobile, felt his body freeze like an icicle in the midst of winter. His blood felt equally as cold, as if one move would make him shatter. People studied spiderman all of the time. There were news articles and personal reports and attempts at interviews—everyone knew everything about spiderman, except for his identity. At least, they did.

In that split second, Yuji had a terrible epiphany. With Yuji Itadori came Y/n L/n, always. A plethora of your shared moments flashed through his mind. Walking you to class, late night trips to the convenience store, all of the places around you that there’d been someone lurking. Someone just waiting for the right moment, gauging his behaviour and every aspect of his life, no doubt including the way he looked at you. Yuji might’ve seemed dense, but he was perfectly aware of how clear his love for you was. He loved everything, he loved the way the sun casted over the city and the way people lit up when he smiled at them on the street. He loved you most.

The figure looming over him smiled sickly, Yuji’s reaction telling him all he needed to know. As he began circling Yuji like a predator ready to pounce, he couldn’t stop him. All he could do was feel the pounding of his heart in his chest and wondering if yours was still able to do the same.

“So I was thinking…” the man began, trailing off for the sake of suspense no doubt. “What’s a better power to have over someone than love?”

The sinister words swirled in his ears like an echo. His mouth felt dry, the rest of the world fading to TV static as he tried to glance around for any sign of you, but his gaze was far too frantic to make out the shape of the person in front of him let alone you.

With a devilish snigger, you were revealed. Simply based off of the widened state of your eyes and the way you writhed in the rope you were restricted by, it was fairly clear this was news to you. Had your mouth not been taped, he was sure you’d have plenty to say. As his eyes locked with yours, the world slowed to a halt around you. Your gazes spoke louder than any words, louder than any scream into the dead of night. It spoke of love and fear all the same.

“Stop,” was all he could croak out. “Stop!” he shouted, louder this time as his gaze turned.

“Mm.. so I was correct, then?” said the near cyborg beast beside you.

Yuji’s gaze flickered to you, just for a split second. He contemplated lying, but he just… couldn’t. The words felt bitter and out of place on his tongue, even before they were spoken. So he chose bravery, in every sense of the word, and kept with his offence.

“Maybe, that’s none of your business,” he grunted, words emphasized with a hit to the man’s gnarly face. Yuji had a new sense of determination, the animalistic instinct to protect you. He’d already lost so many, lost his parents and his brother and the sense of humanity he grasped on to like the thread he hung by. He wouldn’t lose you.

All you could do was watch. You could only sit there like the helpless bystander you loathed to be, staring in horror as who might’ve been the love of your life was pummelled into the ground. It was like a twisted pattern of pain and the red of his blood darkening his suit. With every hit he landed he received tenfold, but somehow he always got back up. That was Yuji for you.

As the fight continued, you couldn’t help but begin to notice the obvious similarities between the vigilante and your own best friend. You felt utterly idiotic. Why else would he care so much, who else would you have shared those conversations with? Why else would Yuji look at you just a little different every time you met with spiderman? It all made sense. All of the “I’m sure your best friend is lucky to have you”’s and the explanations to Yuji’s actions that seemed just a bit too personal. Now you knew why, and you couldn’t even respond to the information, imprisoned by the tape over your mouth and the weight of your obliviousness as the sound of fist against face rang through the streets.

A weak, muffled cry fell from your lips as he was knocked to the ground.

Everything was going in slow motion. The robotic arm raised, hovering over Yuji like a sledgehammer just waiting to pound down. But then there was a metallic whine, and a halt. Panic washed over the man’s face as he froze—well, the metal parts of him froze, and those were the only parts that amounted to much.

He sputter and panicked, watching as the countless officers surrounding the area became aware of his suspended movement. It was over, just like that? He seemed just as surprised as you were, and as your eyes met, you were shocked to feel anything in common with him.

When you were freed of the twine that had been keeping you in place, you wasted no time in rushing to Yuji. The red and blue of the lights surrounding you blanketed him, making him appear as nothing but a puddle in the street. He looked completely melted—limp, and for a moment you thought he might not live to hear what you had to say.

You pulled his mask up over his face, disregarding the people around you and their wandering eyes. His face was battered and bruised, but undeniably still his, still alive. You felt your shoulders deflate as his throat bobbed, the small, otherwise unimportant motion doing numbers to ease your nerves. He was still here. You could still learn to love spiderman as you did Yuji, you’d still get the chance to feel their hearts beat as one.

His eyes fluttered open, vision bleary from the flashing lights and his lack of consciousness. “Y/n?” he muttered, voice nearly inaudible. It was the first thought in his mind when he woke, even before the fuzzy outline of your face came into view. His eyes flickered brighter when they saw you. He knew that face anywhere. “Y/n,” he breathed, softer this time.

“Yuji-“

“I’m sorry for not telling you,” he mumbled quickly. His hands reached for yours, the shaky, bruised skin wrapping itself in yours. It stung, but the feeling of your fingers intertwined with his was enough to soothe the ache. He was convinced that if you were to kiss every injured part of him, his bones would straighten themselves out for the sole purpose of holding you, because broken arms can not cradle. Snapped fingers cannot run through your hair, so if he were broken, he would repair himself as long as it meant loving you. No amount of bloodshed would keep him away, he would return to you in the winds if he had to.

You chuckled lightly despite the distress of the moment. “For not telling me what? That you’re spiderman or that you’re in love with me?”

He grinned tiredly, canines peeking out brightly, white against the pink of his lips. “Both.”

— ⋮ ᰔ

The sound of knuckles against your window was dull and hollow, but not unexpected. It did little to startle you, barely bothering to look up from your textbook as you hunched over your desk.

“It’s open!” you called over your shoulder, followed by the creak of the glass sliding open. The sound of Yuji’s feet meeting the ground pulled you from your school immersed daze, office chair swivelling around to face him.

“You know, leaving your window open at night is dangerous,” he said, half joking. His mask was already pulled from his face, messy pink hair matted and messy on his head. He was making quick work to pull off the rest of his suit as he spoke, hopping around on one foot as he tried to pry it from his skin.

You responded with an underlaugh, “I’m on the fourth floor. Nobody except spiderman is sliding open my window at eleven at night on a Tuesday.”

“Well-“ he cut himself off by knocking into your bedframe. He glanced back to you, cheeks warming in the slightest as he tried to balance himself and remain authoritative. “Well, they might!” he exclaimed. His eyes narrowed, but you didn’t find any sense of irritation in them. Within his shining brown irises was concern, the lingering anxiety that came with the events not long before. Yuji had been on edge ever since, constantly glancing around corners and panicking when you were out of sight for even a moment. In the corners of his vision lingered the sight of you helpless, burned into his mind like a tattoo he never wanted.

He tossed the red article somewhere on your floor, disregarding it entirely. He stood above you, arms crossed and trying to look annoyed, but resulting in a different, much cuter pout. He was many things that he wouldn’t admit. Tired—very much so—from spending his day trying restlessly to save lives, scared, and craving the tenderness in your touch that he never received with the mask over his face. When you locked gazes, holding it felt particularly hard for him tonight, because he knew you could see right through him. He felt bare, and not just because you were looking at his real face.

You sighed softly, standing up from the chair. You guess your studying could wait another night, because you knew Yuji couldn’t. Your chest throbbed with the thought of the danger he came face to face with constantly, the responsibility he carried on his back through every waking moment. The weight was heavy, and it was exhausting.

Placing a chaste, fleeting kiss on his cheek, you tugged him over to the bed. His hand was soft in yours, a contrast to the callouses and scrapes adorning the skin there.

“Come lie down,” you mumbled.

He glanced between you and the desk you previously occupied, brows knitting together. “Weren’t you busy?”

“I’m not anymore. Just come rest with me, please.” You shook your head, earnestly reflecting in your eyes.

He hesitated, opening his mouth to speak. “You don’t have to…” he began, but he stopped himself. He really, really did want to rest. He wanted to listen to your heart beat against your chest and have your breath fan over his skin, he wanted to curl into your embrace and be reminded that in this cruel world was a place of love. He knew that deep down, his heart resided with you, and he never felt it truly thump until he was in your arms. “…okay.”

So he crawled into bed with you, tired and almost clingy in his actions. His body slotted against yours like the missing piece of a puzzle, his arms slithering around your waist and face nuzzling into the crook of your neck like it was always meant to be there. He let his ear press against your shirt and hear the life beneath your skin, letting out a breath and physically melting into your arms. He looked so much more gentle like this. He wasn’t the sarcastic or silly figure the world knew spiderman to be, he was just a boy that wanted to help. He was just a kid like you who needed to know that there were things left to cherish.

Some would say you had two lovers. One a courageous figure in the night, the other a warm hearted, pink haired student barely making it into college. But you knew that spiderman was nothing but the parts of Yuji that had always lived within, and the bits that defined him most.

That night you traced every line and freckle on his face, committing it to memory because now there was no suit between you. You admired him as he slept, relishing in the tranquility of it all. It was just you and Yuji, flesh and love and transparency all in one.

From then onwards, Yuji fought his battles with just a bit more hope, because he knew you’d be waiting for him by the window when he won.

I MISSED writing for Yuji ugghhhhhhhhhh. If I wrote a part 2 of a strangers heart would yall fw that or nah (wouldn’t be for a while tho). I cannot write action at all im so sorry 😭 also cba to give big scary villain a name so it got repetitive

Jjk/gen taglist — @sh0ot1ngst4r @anotherwriternamedclara @ruruisru @lizbix @bubybubsters @azinniyaa @kashee-h @fiannee

— I did not tag those who could not be tagged. If you were on the general taglist and don’t see yourself, it’s because your tag settings stopped me from doing so.

[milfsloverblog]

Secret Benefits (part 8)

sugar mommy!Larissa Weems x Fem!reader

A/N: Apologies for the two months radio silence, I had to go for a little grippy sock vacation. I really enjoyed writing this chapter, the angst, the comfort and FINALLY…. Nah, I can’t spoil you. You’ll have to read it. Enjoy, and don’t forget to reblog if you do! <3

After Larissa’s admission, the silence stretched between you, heavy and fragile, like the air itself might crack under the weight of it. You hadn’t spoken for what felt like hours, though the ticking clock told you it had only been minutes. Larissa sat beside you, her posture impeccable as always, but her fingers betrayed her composure—they fidgeted ever so slightly, twisting the hem of her sleeve in a way you’d never seen before.

You were still clutching the blanket she’d given you, your knuckles white around the edges. The warmth it provided didn’t quite reach your chest, where a strange hollowness had taken root.

“Thank you,” you finally said, your voice quieter than you intended. The words felt insufficient, but they were all you had.

Larissa turned her head toward you, her silver hair catching the dim light. There was something guarded in her eyes, something she wasn’t ready to say. “You don’t need to thank me,” she replied softly. “I just… needed to be here.”

The honesty in her words startled you. She’d been nothing but composed since the moment you met her, a fortress of calm and control. But tonight, cracks were starting to show. The revelation of her secret had thrown you both into uncharted territory, and you weren’t sure either of you knew the way forward.

“I still can’t believe it,” you admitted, shaking your head as if that might somehow make it all make sense. “The shifting, the man—you—”

“Me,” Larissa said, her lips quirking into a wry, almost self-deprecating smile. “All of it, I’m afraid.”

Your chest tightened at the sound of her voice, that same warm lilt you’d come to recognize, but now layered with vulnerability. It was like hearing a familiar song played in a minor key—comforting and disarming all at once.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Larissa hesitated. Her gaze dropped to her hands, now folded neatly in her lap. “Because I didn’t want you to look at me differently,” she said, her voice steady but low. “I didn’t want to risk…” She trailed off, the unspoken words hanging between you like a fog.

“Risk what?”

“Risk losing whatever fragile connection we’d managed to build. I wasn’t supposed to get so attached. We weren’t supposed, remember?” she said remembering your initial agreement, her voice thick with emotion. “I’ve spent so long hiding who I am—what I am—that the idea of showing you felt… impossible.”

Her confession hit you like a wave, the weight of it sinking into your skin. For all her strength, all her poise, Larissa carried a fear you recognized all too well: the fear of being truly seen and rejected for it.

“I don’t think of you any differently,” you said before you could stop yourself. The words spilled out, shaky but honest.

Larissa looked up, her blue eyes searching yours. “You don’t?”

You shook your head. “I mean, it’s a lot to process, obviously. But you’re still… you. And you saved me, Larissa. Twice, now. I can’t ignore that.”

Her shoulders relaxed, just slightly, and you saw a glimmer of relief in her expression. “I’ve had to make difficult choices to keep my secret,” she said. “I don’t expect you to understand all of it, but I want you to know—I’ve only ever tried to protect the people I care about.”

“Is that what I am?” you asked before you could think better of it.

Larissa blinked, caught off guard by the question. Her lips parted, and for a moment, you thought she might deflect. But then she nodded, a small, deliberate motion. “Yes,” she said simply. “You are.”

The words settled over you like a blanket, warm and heavy. It was the first time in a long time that someone had claimed you as theirs, even in such a quiet way. You weren’t sure what to do with it.

“I don’t know what to say,” you admitted, your voice shaking slightly.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Larissa replied. “Just… stay.”

You looked at her, really looked at her, and for the first time, you saw the weight she carried—not just the secret of her ability, but the responsibility she felt for everyone around her. It was etched into the lines of her face, the faint tension in her jaw, the way her hands never quite stilled.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said softly, and the words felt truer than anything you’d said in a long time.

Larissa’s expression softened, and for a moment, the distance between you seemed to shrink. The air in the room felt lighter, less charged, as though some unspoken barrier had finally been breached.

“Good,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

The quiet that followed was different now—less heavy, more companionable. The silence between you felt alive, not oppressive as it had moments before. Larissa's gaze lingered on you, and you found yourself unable to look away. It was disarming, the way her eyes seemed to hold entire galaxies of emotions—uncertainty, hope, and something warmer, more tender, that you couldn’t quite name.

You set the blanket aside, letting the warmth of the moment pull you forward, closer to her. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” she said, her voice steady, though you noticed the faintest tremor in her hand as she smoothed her skirt.

“Why did you stay here tonight?” you asked, your heart thundering in your chest. “Was it really just to check on me?”

Her lips parted as though to answer immediately, but she hesitated. For the first time, she didn’t seem to know the right thing to say. “I… I needed to make sure you were safe,” she said carefully, but her gaze betrayed her. There was more.

“And?” you pressed, your voice soft but insistent.

“And,” she continued, her words catching slightly, “because I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you alone after what happened. I knew you’d push me away if I asked to stay, so I didn’t ask. I just… stayed.”

Your chest ached at the raw vulnerability in her voice. Larissa, the ever-composed, ever-controlled woman you thought you knew, was letting you see her without the walls she usually kept so firmly in place.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said softly, though a part of you was grateful she had.

“I did,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “Because I care about you, more than I can explain. And after last night…” She shook her head, as if trying to push the memory of it away. “I needed to make sure you knew that.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and electric, as if the entire room was waiting for you to respond. But no words came. Instead, you leaned forward, the impulse almost unconscious, and placed a hand over hers.

“Thank you,” you murmured, though the words felt so small compared to everything she’d done.

Her hand trembled beneath yours, but she didn’t pull away. Her gaze flicked down to where your fingers rested over hers, then back to your face. The way she looked at you was almost unbearable—like she was afraid this moment might shatter if she breathed too deeply.

“I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, her voice quieter than you’d ever heard it.

“Then don’t say anything,” you replied, your voice just as soft.

You didn’t know who moved first. Maybe it was you, or maybe it was her. But suddenly, the space between you was gone. Her lips brushed against yours, tentative and feather-light, as though testing the waters.

The kiss was brief, but it sent a jolt through your entire body. Your heart pounded in your chest, your breath catching in your throat. When she pulled back, her eyes searched yours, wide and unsure.

“Was that okay?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you leaned in again, pressing your lips to hers with more certainty this time. She responded immediately, her hand moving to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing against your skin with a gentleness that made your heart ache.

The kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, as if the two of you had all the time in the world. Her other hand found its way to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

When you finally broke apart, your foreheads rested together, both of you breathing heavily. Her fingers lingered on your face, tracing soft patterns against your skin as though committing the moment to memory.

“I’ve wanted to do that for longer than I care to admit,” Larissa said softly, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

“So have I,” you admitted, your cheeks warming under her gaze.

The vulnerability between you now was almost overwhelming, but for the first time, it didn’t feel like something to fear. It felt like a bridge—a connection neither of you had expected but both of you desperately needed.

Larissa pulled you into her arms, holding you close, her chin resting lightly on the top of your head. You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the warmth of her embrace. The steady rise and fall of her breathing was a balm to your racing thoughts, grounding you in a way nothing else could.

“I don’t want to rush you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “If this is too much, too soon—”

“It’s not,” you interrupted, pulling back just enough to look at her. “It’s not too much. I just… I need to figure out what this means.”

Her lips curved into a soft smile, and she nodded. “We’ll figure it out together,” she said, her voice steady but warm.

You believed her.

————————————————————————

Taglist: @raspburrythief @weemssapphic @readingtheentrails @principal-weems09 @kimiinou @winterfireblond @im-a-carnivorous-plant @geekyarmorel @h-doodles @witchesmortuary @m1lflov3rrr @dumbasslesbi @crow-raven-crow @fridays-coven @lilfartbox1 @shawncantwrite @autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @gwens0girl @aemilia19 @the-bagel24 @lvinhs @thefutureisus2020 @gela123 @a-queen-and-her-throne @rando-mango @wheresmyboo @my-silver-spring @hillary-nicks @ablsk @natasha29romanoff @tallvampirelady12 @canyoufeelmyheartsayinghi i @i-love-nerdy-stuff @jasperobsidian-blog @i-write-sometimes-maybe @brienne-the-brave @slytherinthepms @non-binary-frogking @wife-of-gwendolinechristie @anjo-iludidoefudido @imnotafruitt @opheliauniverse

[averyfuckingtiredyounglady]

Shattered

pairing: hyunjin x afab!reader

synopsis: You hadn’t meant to become his crutch. He hadn’t meant to become yours. But somewhere along the way, the lines blurred, and the late-night hookups turned into something more. Something that neither of you could admit out loud.

genre: smut, angst, psychological horror, [hidden bonus]

word count: 7.5k

warnings: twist? main plot element is a surprise, mature themes, detailed sex scenes, ambiguous ending, y/n is down bad

a/n: aaayyee. the long awaited spooktober fic in january no less! this was a huge challenge for me, i wanted to take this in a direction that is completely unnatural for me, that plus the concept is what made this take so long to finish. this was really hard to write. that being said this is fucking weird. this is not going to be a lot of people's cup of tea i don't think. i personally havent seen any fics like this (and i read a lot) which is why i wrote it. I would hope someone could write something like this even better than i could maybe lol. But yeah please enjoy

_

“What?”

When you looked up at him half of his face was hidden in darkness, one half illuminated by the moonlight coming through the window and the other shaded. You could still make out the expression on his face, the frown of his brows, the glossiness of his eyes, his gaze set firmly on you.

“Are you really okay with how things are right now?

“What do you mean?” You set your phone down, matching his posture. You looked at Hyunjin, cocking your head to the side inquisitively.

He exhaled, letting out a strained sigh as he leaned down resting his head against his clasped hands before he spoke again.

“I don’t think this is going to work anymore. This isn’t good for me. I can’t pretend like I just want to come here to fuck and hang out and go home.. like.. like I don’t care about you. Like we don’t care about eachother… more than this.”

He lets his words fall from his mouth hurriedly, quick enough that he doesnt stop himself.

You don’t know what really brought this on. Why does he want to talk about this right now? What did you say? Was it something you did?

You’ve been aware that Hyunjin had feelings for you, though he tried not to show it, it was obvious. You just wouldn’t acknowledge it. Why should you? What good would that really do?

You sit across from Hyunjin, and you can all but see it, his heart, pulsing, rhythmically in his hand, gushing blood all over your living room floor.

You take a deep breath, feeling the light sting in your lungs before you exhale. You avoid his eyes, staring somewhere at his chest, eyes unfocused.

“You don’t really have a choice.” You let out. Your words hanging in the air like damp clothes on a line. Hyunjin sniffed at this, eyes searching around the room, the way he mustve been searching inside himself for the correct words to say to you.

You unfold your legs, leaning over to reach out a comforting hand to him, setting it on his thigh reassuringly, as this was all you could do.

“I don’t like it all that much either. I don’t. But, what am I to do? This is what works for us right now.” You squeeze his leg tighter, as you squeeze your next sentence out of your chest. “I can’t go through that again. Not right now. You understand?”

It’s not like you had to explain what you meant. How you felt. As he knew well, from firsthand experience what heartbreak could do to a person. What it did to him, but it didnt stop how his chest throbbed now as you rejected him. It didnt stop the way his body tensed up, staving the urge to reach out and hold you, as youd expressed discomfort in that.

So, he didn’t... hold you... he didnt do anything. Instead, Hyunjin collected his things and left your apartment, his mind clouded by thoughts of you that would stay with him that night.

You sat for a moment, clammed up on the floor, heart pricked with sharp shards of emotion that stirred a physical ache in your chest. The feeling was heavy, almost suffocating. It was a kind of pain that wasn’t just emotional—it felt tangible, a pressure that seemed to press in from all sides, making it hard to breathe.

For a few moments, you stayed there, paralyzed by the weight of it all. Slowly, silently, you lifted yourself from the floor, steadying yourself against the edge of the coffee table. Each movement was careful, as if any sudden shift might destroy the delicate balance you were holding together.

As you turned toward your bedroom, you bumped into the table, your water glass tumbling over before you could react, shattering as it hit the floor.

Freezing for a moment, you stared at the fractured pieces scattered across the floor. Your reflection appeared in the jagged shards—split into fragmented pieces, your face warped and out of place.

“Shit,” you muttered, crouching down to pick up the broken pieces. The sharp edges of the glass caught the light as you gingerly gathered them in your hands. You couldn't shake the odd feeling that the image, fractured and distorted, mirrored something deeper inside you.

You woke up with an unfamiliar heat under your skin. When your eyes focused, you stared up at the ceiling, an orange glow spread across the tiles, sunlight creeping through a nearby window. “This isnt my bedroom…Its hot in here. I’m so thirsty.” You lay there breathing as each new thought vying for your attention made its way to the front of the queue. You sat up slowly in bed, limbs feeling oddly heavy. You feel the absence of any blankets. “This is not my bed either” “i know i was in my own bed last night” you recognize this is hyunjins place though you hadnt been many times.

And you remember the conversation you two had. The way he left, the way youd hurt him again.

“Where is Hyunjin?”

Then, you catch sight of the mirror.

You feel a scream crawling up your throat

Hyunjin opens his eyes to pitch darkness. The air feels thick, too close around him, and when he sits up, the sudden lightness of his limbs makes his head spin. Where the fuck is the lights? He staggers out of bed, getting caught in piles of blankets.

It takes a moment for the full impact to hit him. He stares down at the body he’s in—your body—and his breath catches in his throat. His hands—no, your hands—move instinctively to his chest, and the soft weight of your body feels completely alien. His skin tingles with discomfort, every movement too light, too foreign.

He nearly falls rushing to the bathroom, heart rattling his chest as his eyes meet yours in the mirror, but it’s not you, it’s him. He feels a pull from the floor trying to yank him down, like he’s about to pass out.

This can’t be happening.

He presses his hands to his face, trying to ground himself, but the sensation of your soft skin under his palms only makes everything worse. It’s like being trapped in a body that doesn’t belong to him—a body he knows too well but never thought he’d experience this way.

His phone—no, your phone—buzzes on the counter, pulling him out of his spiral. He grabs it, fumbling with the unfamiliar interface until he sees the notification.

It’s a message from you.

You arrive at your apartment before you’re ready to face him—or rather, face yourself. The walk over had been surreal, every step heavier than usual, every movement feeling slightly off. The world itself seemed wrong, like everything was tilted just a little to the side. People had looked at you—at Hyunjin’s body—without noticing anything unusual, but inside, you were unraveling.

Now, standing in front of your apartment door, your heart pounds in your chest. The weight of it feels strange, like even your heartbeat is foreign. You hesitate before knocking, staring down at your—his—hands, trying to remind yourself that none of this is real. It can’t be.

Finally, the door swings open, and you’re face to face with yourself.

For a second, neither of you says anything. It’s like looking in a mirror, but worse—because it’s not a reflection. It’s him. Hyunjin, standing in your skin, his expression tense and uncomfortable, like he’s just as disoriented by seeing you as you are by seeing him.

“This is insane,” he mutters, stepping aside to let you in. Hearing your own voice come from his mouth makes you flinch, your stomach twisting painfully.

“You think?” you reply, your voice—his voice—sounding too sharp, too loud in the small space.

You walk into         the apartment, your movements awkward and stiff, trying to figure out how to exist in a body that isn’t yours. Everything feels wrong, from the way the muscles in your legs tighten when you walk to the way your hands rest at your sides. You’ve been in this body for less than a day, and you already feel like you’re trapped in someone else’s life.

Hyunjin stands in the doorway, arms crossed over his—your—chest, watching you carefully. He shifts his weight, clearly uncomfortable, as if he’s unsure what to do with his hands or how to hold his face.. There’s a moment of shared awkwardness, a realization that neither of you knows how to handle this.

You give a slight nod in his direction, a small grin tugging at the corners of your mouth as you take in the sight of your now-clothed body. “You dressed me?” you ask, amusement lacing your voice.

Hyunjin glances down at the baggy shirt draped over your figure—his shirt. “I mean… was I not supposed to?” he mumbles, crossing his arms again. “It only felt right…”

Looking down at yourself—his body—you swallow, the weight of it all settling heavily over you. “It feels… heavy,” you admit, your voice quieter now, thoughtful. “Like I’m too big for this space.”

Hyunjin nods, rubbing the back of his neck, a gesture that looks strange on you, “I know. It’s weird. Everything feels too... light.” He grimaces. “Like I’m fragile.”

“How do you deal with this?” Hyunjin suddenly asked, his voice quiet but pointed.

You blinked, frowning slightly. “Deal with what?”

“This,” Hyunjin said, gesturing vaguely to his—your—body. “The way everything feels so... tight. Like there’s always this knot in my chest. It’s exhausting.”

You stared at him for a moment, your heart sinking at his words. Of course, you knew that feeling—knew it all too well. That constant weight on your chest, the ever-present tension that never seemed to go away. You’d been living with it for so long that it had become a part of you, something you barely even noticed anymore.

But hearing Hyunjin describe it, feeling it through your body, made it hit differently. He could feel what you’d been feeling all this time, and the realization left you reeling.

“It’s always been like that,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I guess I just... got used to it.”

Hyunjin turned his head to look at you, his eyes—your eyes—softening in a way you hadn’t expected. “You shouldn’t have to be used to it.”

His words hit like a punch to the gut, and you found yourself swallowing hard, trying to push down the rising wave of emotions. He was right, of course. You shouldn’t have had to carry that weight alone, but you had. For so long. And you didn’t know how to let it go.

“I don’t know any other way,” you confessed, your voice thick with emotion. Your eyes stay fixed to the floor, the tiles blurring as tears flood into your vision. You don’t let them fall. You tighten your fists as to not let them spill out.

For a moment, the silence between you stretched out,

“I get it,” he said quietly. “I’ve been carrying my own shit too. And I didn’t realize just how much it was weighing me down until now.”

You looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time, you saw it—the exhaustion in your own face, the way your shoulders sagged under the weight of everything you’d been carrying. It was strange, seeing yourself from the outside like this, but it also made you realize just how much Hyunjin had been holding back too.

“This sucks,” you said softly. “But It’s no way we could have avoided this… considering how fucked up we were.” You wiped your eyes, a hint of smile appearing. “God. I fucking hate crying.”

Hyunjin nodded, “Yeah. And im an ugly crier so...” He allowed himself to let out a small chuckle.

There was a long pause, the kind that usually felt uncomfortable but now felt… necessary. Like you were both finally starting to understand each other, finally starting to see what you’d been avoiding for so long.

“I’m sorry,” Hyunjin said suddenly, his voice quiet but sincere. “For… everything. For not being honest with you. For not seeing you, really seeing you, before all of this.”

You felt a lump rise in your throat at his words. You hadn’t expected an apology but hearing it now—hearing it from your own voice, no less—made your chest tighten with emotion.

“I’m sorry too,” you whispered. “For pushing you away. For pretending this was just… casual. When it wasn’t.”

Hyunjin’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, there was no need for words. The understanding that passed between you was enough. You were both broken in your own ways, both carrying the weight of past relationships and unspoken emotions, but now—finally—you were starting to share that weight with each other.

And it felt like a small, tentative step toward healing.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. The sense of unreality lingered in the air as you sat across from each other, still coming to terms with the strange new reality of being in each other’s bodies.

Hyunjin—your body sprawled on the couch—stared up at the ceiling, idly tapping his fingers against his leg. It was a movement so familiar, yet now it felt unsettling.

You sat on the edge of the armchair, elbows resting on your knees as you tried to process everything. There had to be a way to switch back, but as the realization that you might be stuck like this, at least for a little while longer, sank in, your skin crawled.

The rest of the day was spent in a strange, quiet rhythm. You’d both come to terms with the fact that you were stuck in each other’s bodies for the time being, and though it was still unsettling, the initial panic had subsided. Now, there was an unspoken agreement to figure things out together, to navigate this bizarre situation one step at a time.

There were awkward moments, of course. Simple tasks like eating breakfast or getting dressed were strange, and you both kept stumbling over the unfamiliar movements of each other’s bodies. But there were also moments of quiet understanding, where you could feel the growing connection between you.

At one point, you caught Hyunjin staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, his—your—hand resting against the sink as he studied his face. He didn’t say anything when you passed by—the quiet contemplation, the way his fingers traced the curve of his cheek—made you feel like he was seeing something in you he hadn’t before.

He was learning you, just as you were learning him.

And though the situation was still bizarre, there was a strange comfort in that. A sense of closeness you hadn’t expected, but now that it was there, you couldn’t imagine going back.

Your eyes flick to Hyunjin laying on the couch. The arm of the sofa cradling his head and his -your- hair purposefully laid over it. You’ve seen your body a thousand times before, but never like this. Never from the outside, with someone else inhabiting it. It feels... strange. And unsettling. And a little too intimate.

Hyunjin shifts, watching you from the corner of his eye. his gaze trailing over you—your hands, your face. There’s something in the way he’s looking at you now, something you can’t quite place.

“I don’t know how you do this,” he says softly, almost to himself. “How you live in this body.”

“I could say the same about yours,” you reply, your voice low, your throat tight and you can feel the weight of Hyunjin’s body pressing down on you, heavy and unfamiliar.

You move to sit next to him, taking a small space on the edge of the couch. Hyunjin’s eyes meet yours again. There’s a sense of unfamiliarity and heightened awareness that thickens the air, and you know you both can feel it. It urges you closer to him—closer to yourself.

Before you can stop yourself, you reach out, your hand—Hyunjin’s hand—brushing lightly against his—your—knee. It’s a simple touch, barely anything, but the feeling of it—of his skin under your hand—makes you want to touch him more.

The moment stretches, heavy with anticipation, and neither of you moves. You can feel your pulse in your throat, in your chest, everywhere, and suddenly, the distance between you feels too far...

Your eyes trace the lines of your body, the way Hyunjin is sitting in it—his posture so different from yours, his movements more restrained, almost hesitant. It feels strange to see yourself like this, to see him in you. And even stranger to feel the pull in your chest that comes with that realization.

Hyunjin’s eyes flick up to yours, and something shifts in the room. It’s subtle, barely noticeable, but you feel it—like a current passing between you. The air feels charged now, thick with something unspoken but undeniable.

“I can’t get used to this,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. He’s still looking at you—at his own face—like he’s trying to make sense of it, like maybe the answers are buried somewhere in your skin.

You swallow hard, your pulse thudding in your ears. “I don’t think we’re supposed to,” you reply, your voice low, rough around the edges. “But here we are.”

Hyunjin lets out a slow breath, his gaze dropping to where your fingers had brushed against his skin. There’s a tension in the way he moves, a kind of restraint, like he’s holding something back. And for a moment, you wonder what it would feel like to stop holding back. To stop pretending this isn’t happening, that there isn’t something pulling you together, drawing you closer.

The couch feels too small now, too confined. Your body—his body—feels too big for the space, and your skin feels too tight. Every breath feels like it’s pressing up against something just out of reach. You shift, turning slightly toward him, your knee brushing his—your—leg in the process.

Hyunjin doesn’t pull away this time. He just looks at you, his eyes—your eyes—searching yours. And in that moment, you realize that you’re both feeling it—that strange pull, that raw, unspoken need for connection, for understanding.

You’ve always been good at pushing things down, at keeping your emotions locked up tight, but right now, with Hyunjin sitting there in your body, the lines are blurring. It’s like you can feel the weight of his confusion, his frustration, and maybe something more.

“I wonder if...” Hyunjin starts, but his voice trails off. He doesn’t finish the thought. He doesn’t have to. You know exactly what he’s thinking because you’re thinking it too.

Before you can second-guess yourself, before you can let the confusion or fear settle in, you lean in. Your hand moves almost on instinct, reaching for him—reaching for yourself, really—and it’s not gentle, but it’s not forceful either. Just a touch. Just enough to bridge the gap that’s been widening between you.

Your fingers trace the line of your jaw—his jaw, now—and you feel the smoothness of the skin beneath your fingertips. It’s surreal, touching yourself like this, feeling the angles and shapes you’ve only ever seen in the mirror. But it’s more than that. It’s the way Hyunjin looks at you while you do it. He looks out of it, like he has a million thoughts running through his head and he’s chasing after each one.

The tension that’s been simmering between you both finally boils over.

Hyunjin’s hand comes up, wrapping around your wrist—not to pull you away, but to hold you there and he leans in, pressing his lips against yours. They’re smooth and pillowy soft, your lips. As you kiss him back, eyes instinctively closing, you take in the smell of him, of his hair, and his skin. The smell of yourself.

You slip your tongue into his mouth, and you can feel his grip tighten on your wrist, his body tensing as he kisses back and a small sound escapes him, muffled by the kiss.

It feels different. But it’s something you can’t quite name, something that feels both terrifying and exhilarating. The way your lips move against each other, the way Hyunjin’s body presses against yours—it’s all so familiar and yet completely foreign.

You’re kissing yourself, and yet it’s him. It’s Hyunjin.

And it’s you.

 Your hands begin to roam, exploring the contours of his body with a kind of urgency that surprises you. Hyunjin responds in kind, his fingers sliding down your spine, his breath hot against your skin.

Hyunjin's hands grip the back of your neck, pulling you closer, as though you could somehow fuse together, body and mind. His lips, moving against yours with a desperation you’ve never felt before, sending a faint tingling throughout your body.

It’s overwhelming—feeling your own body from the outside, feeling how soft your skin is, how responsive it is to every touch. And the strength of your body—Hyunjin’s body—surprises you. It’s like you’re discovering him all over again, but from the inside out.

You pull back for just a second, breathless, your forehead resting against his. Your breath mingles with his, both of you breathing hard, and when you look into his eyes—your eyes—the confusion is still there, but it’s mingled with something else now. Something you’re both too afraid to say out loud.

“Are we really doing this?” Hyunjin murmurs, his voice low, uncertain.

You don’t answer with words. Instead, you kiss him again—harder this time, with all the urgency of the moment flooding into it. There’s no stopping now.

 Without speaking, you both start peeling off clothes, the movements frantic, unsteady, like you can’t get out of your clothes fast enough. It’s surreal, watching your own body undress in front of you, seeing it from a perspective you never thought you’d have.

When Hyunjin’s body—your body—is finally bare in front of you, you openly stare at him for a beat too long and he tries to cover up with his hands. His shyness, though completely absurd, is still endearing. You’ve seen yourself naked countless times, but this is different. This is him in a different form. In a way, it doesn’t even seem like you anymore.

You close the distance between you, the feeling of his body on yours sinks into your skin, and spreads through every one of your nerves- Warm. Hyunjin lets out a soft sound, almost like a sigh, and you can feel the tension in his body, the way his hands grip your arms, holding on like he’s afraid to let go.

“Is this okay?” he asks softly, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes dark with desire, but theres a softness there too, a tenderness that makes your chest tighten.

“I’m okay with it,” you whisper, your voice shaky but certain. “I want this. I want you.”

Your hand drifts down, tracing the outline of your cock through your pants, the weight of it in your palm heavy and warm. The feeling sends a rush of heat through you—different from anything you’ve felt before. Hyunjin’s breath hitches, and you can see the flush in his cheeks, the way his body tenses under your touch.

“I wonder how it feels…” you whisper, your voice thick with desire, “to be inside myself.”

Hyunjin’s eyes flicker with something—curiosity, maybe, or something darker. “I want to know, too.”

Before you can overthink it, you’re pulling him down, your lips sliding against his in a messy kiss —your body responding to the familiar and unfamiliar all at once. 

You could feel your own skin from the outside now, the sensation of it under your fingers unfamiliar but fascinating. The texture was soft, smoother than you’d ever noticed before, and for the first time, you realized how delicate you actually felt in Hyunjin’s hands. as he moved closer you could smell your own scent wafting from your skin—it was all-consuming. The scent of your own body, the taste of your lips when you kissed, the softness of your skin—it was intoxicating.

“I don’t even know what to do,” Hyunjin admitted quietly, his voice—your voice—tinged with uncertainty. “I mean, this is your body. I don’t want to…”

“You’re me right now,” you interrupted, your heart racing. “And I’m you. So… I think we just… feel.”

Your hand glides down his chest, tracing the curve of your own body and feeling how it responds to the touch. Hyunjin shudders as your hand brushes against the swell of his—your—breasts. The roughness of your hands against the softness there makes you pause, swallowing hard before continuing.

The sensation is strange—your breasts, which have always been a natural part of you, now feel unfamiliar, foreign, and yet deeply intimate. Your fingers trail over your skin with a mix of awe and confusion, exploring every curve with a renewed sense of wonder.

“I never knew… I never figured that—”

“You felt so good?” Hyunjin finishes for you, his voice soft but tinged with amazement. His hands mirror yours as he caresses himself—your body—with reverence, his touch tender as if learning you anew. “Yeah. It amazes me too.”

Hyunjin’s hand moves lower, tentative but curious, your eyes follow them. His fingers trace the soft skin of his thighs -a delicate dance between curiosity and intimacy. They slide between his legs, and you notice him take a deep breath.

 “I’m wet.”

The words tumble out of him before he can stop them, —a fact spoken aloud to make it feel real.

it’s not that he didn’t expect this. Of course he did. It’s natural, inevitable. But knowing something in theory and feeling it are two entirely different things. And now, with the heat pooling between his thighs, the slickness against his skin, he’s finally experiencing it—fully, tangibly.

As Hyunjin’s fingers linger between his legs, you can’t help but feel a magnetic pull, an urge to close the distance. The sight of him—of you—so vulnerable, so immersed, stirs something deep within you. Your hand moves almost instinctively, reaching out, your curiosity stronger than any doubt.

Your fingertips brush lightly against his wrist, as if asking rather than taking. He glances at you, his breath hitching, and for a moment the two of you are caught in a quiet understanding. His hand doesn’t pull away.

Encouraged, your fingers settle just above his, not guiding, not interfering, but simply being there. Sharing the space, the sensation, the moment. His breath comes slower now, his movements steady, and you feel the warmth radiating from his skin through yours.

And then you feel it.

The slow, building pressure in your body. It starts as a tightness in your lower abdomen, an unfamiliar sensation that makes your breath hitch. You can feel your own skin heating up, the muscles in your groin tightening as something else builds inside of you.

The feeling of an erection.

The sensation of your own arousal was unlike anything you’d ever experienced. The feeling of your cock hardening, the way your balls tightened with anticipation—it was both exhilarating and overwhelming. You had no control over the way your body responded, but at the same time, it felt natural, like something primal was taking over.

Hyunjin’s hands roamed over your body—his body—You could feel every muscle, every shift of skin under his touch, and it only made you crave more. He knew exactly how to touch you, how to make you melt under his fingers, because he knew you. He knew your body in a way no one else could, because for the first time, he had felt what you felt.

You bit your lip as you slid your hand under the waistband, freeing his erection. The feeling of Hyunjin’s dick in your hand—your own now—was almost too much to process. It was hot, heavy, the skin smooth and velvety beneath your palm, and the sensation of it pulsing in your grip

“It’s so… hard,” you whispered, your hand moving slowly, stroking along the length of his cock. You’d never felt anything like it before, the sheer rawness of it, the pressure of arousal building in your gut in a way that was completely unfamiliar.

“This feels…” Hyunjin’s voice—your voice—breaks the silence, as his hands move over your chest, tracing the lines of muscle there. “So different. So intense.”

You smirk, leaning down to press your lips against his neck, feeling the way his pulse races beneath your touch. “You have no idea.”

You decide to take the lead, guiding him to his back as you press kisses along his chest,

Your hands slide lower, grazing the inside of his thighs, and the sensation sends a rush of heat straight through you. more desperate, more eager to explore every inch of him. You pause, glancing up at him and see him staring at you, eyes lidded, but hesitant to close.

You can see the tension in Hyunjin’s face, the way he’s trying to process everything, but he’s too far gone now, too caught up in the overwhelming sensations. His hands grip your shoulders, pulling you closer and when you settle between his legs, you hesitate for a moment feeling your dick twitch at the slightest contact.

You reach for Hyunjin’s hands again, holding them tightly as your eyes meet his. His eyes are tracking your every move, and his eyebrows have worn a crease between them since you started. “Are you scared?” you whisper, voice soft yet steady.

Hyunjin lets out a quiet breath, his cheeks flushed as he glances away, gently pulling his hands from yours to hide his face. "You're even treating me like... like a girl," he says, his voice trailing off, almost embarrassed.

A small smile pulls at your lips. “In a way, aren’t we both… sort of like virgins right now?” You give him a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “Neither of us really knows what this feels like.”

He finally looks back at you, his gaze settling between your bodies for a moment before meeting your eyes again. “I know you won’t hurt me,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “I never hurt you.”

The weight of his words presses into your chest, and though you know he believes them, you’re aware that it’s not entirely true. Pain and pleasure had often existed in the same space between you, something he’s about to experience, perhaps for the first time.

You guide his hands back to your body, encouraging him to explore each sensation, to feel every part of himself as if it’s brand new. He lets out a shaky breath, his touch growing more confident and as your eyes meet, he reaches down grab your cock, languidly stroking it, jerking you off with a touch that is familiar yet entirely new.

You buck your hips into him, seeing the way he twists his hands around the shaft. It feels so fucking good already. The sight of it—your cock, hard and throbbing—makes you dizzy.  The need is overwhelming, and you don’t have time for hesitation.

Sliding your hands slowly up his thighs, you press his legs apart, the vulnerability and trust in his gaze fuel your every move.  You lean in, pressing gentle kisses down his neck, your lips barely brushing his skin, lingering, allowing him to adjust to each sensation. Your fingers trail along the delicate skin inside his thighs, inching closer before you reach his core. As your fingers press and rub circles over his clit, his hand falters, grip tightening around you as he gasps at the sensation. You feel him tremble beneath your touch, his arousal evident as your fingers slide lower, gathering wetness, slick and warm, and spreading it over him.

The look in Hyunjin’s eyes, in your eyes, is not like looking at your reflection. It’s like looking at a stranger. The disconnect catches you off guard but you know it’s him, and all you want is to make him feel good. Give him everything you know he needs right now.

You don’t mean to be rough, but there’s no gentleness in your movements either. Hyunjin’s body feels invincible, and the weight of it presses into Hyunjin’s—your—softer frame. You grip his wrists, holding him down as you straddle him, and you can’t help but notice how small his body feels under yours.

“You’re so fucking soft,” you mutter, almost to yourself, your hands running over his thighs, squeezing them as you press his legs apart, giving yourself the space to move. You’ve never felt your own skin from the outside, never appreciated just how warm and slick you get when aroused.

Hyunjin shifts beneath you, “I don’t know if I—” he starts, but you cut him off by positioning yourself between his legs, your cock heavy in your hand. You look down at your own body spread open and waiting. Your hands tremble slightly as you grip your cock, guiding it to his entrance.

But then Hyunjin’s hand pushes gently against your chest. “Wait.”

You pause, the sudden halt almost painful with how wound up you feel. “What?”

He hesitates, his eyes flicking down between your bodies. “You’re… not used to being a guy. Shouldn’t we—”

You know what he’s about to say, and before he can finish, you cut him off, the words coming out blunter than you intend. “I’m not using one.”

Hyunjin blinks up at you, your own face looking surprised and maybe a little alarmed. “Hell no. I don’t want any chance of you getting me—” he stumbles over the words, his voice rising in disbelief, “I mean, you—pregnant.”

The absurdity of the situation hangs in the air between you for a split second, but neither of you laughs. The tension between you is too high, the heat too intense, and you can tell he’s serious.

You click your tongue, the weight of the moment settling between you, then reach over to grab a condom from the side table. As you roll it on, there’s a brief pause, both of you staring at each other in this strange, disorienting exchange—like you’re both trying to process the line you’re about to cross, or maybe the ones you’ve already crossed.

This is something entirely new.

As you push inside, both of you cry out. Hyunjin tenses completely — the feeling of your cock stretching and filling him—is overwhelming. The tightness, the heat, the way your body clenches around you as you sink deeper inside. More than that, he’s wet, incredibly wet,. You begin to think that whatever the situation your body will always welcome his.

Hyunjin lets out a breathless moan, his hands gripping the back of the couch as his hips arch toward you, urging you to move. “Oh my god,” he breathes, his voice trembling as you begin to thrust into him, slow and steady.

You groan as you bottom out, the slickness of your folds making every movement feel smoother, more intense. The sensation of your cock sliding in and out of him—out of yourself—is unlike anything you could have imagined. The friction, the heat, the way his body—your body—responds to your every thrust. This is what keeps him coming back,

“Hyunjin,” you groan, your hands gripping his hips as you build a steady pace, feeling the pleasure build inside you. “It’s so tight.”

Hyunjin doesn’t give much of a response, though he is anything but quiet, clutching onto you for dear life. “Hyunjin?” You still for a moment, “are you okay?”

“Yes. Just don’t stop”

Hyunjin’s mind is reeling, but his body is burning with need, and he wants nothing more than to lose himself in the moment --- to shut his brain off completely. As you press him further into the couch, folding his legs up, he squeezes his eyes shut, wrapping his arms around you and hugging your body closer. He tries to picture you—the way you usually look, the way you touch him gently, the way you fit against him. That would make this easier, he thinks, if he can just pretend it’s you, like normal, things will feel familiar again.

. Every movement, every brush of your cock against his walls sends waves of pleasure crashing through both of you, the unfamiliar sensations heightening everything.

 In your possession, his dick feels like a loaded weapon—dangerous, powerful, and utterly out of his contol.  The weight of your body—his body—pinning him down, and every time he tries to picture your usual self above him, all he can feel is the undeniable presence of a man.

You push deeper, and Hyunjin can’t stop the sharp gasp that escapes his lips. The stretch is intense, it even hurts a little, but his body responds anyway, betraying him, heat pooling low in his stomach as you hit a spot that makes his legs weak.

“Fuck, I—” His words break off as you thrust harder, your grip tightening on his hips. He can’t finish the thought, can’t admit to himself what is really going through his mind.

He hates how good it feels. He hates that he can’t stop his body from reacting, cant stop the moans spilling from his lips, can’t stop the way his hips move to meet yours with every thrust.

“I can’t—” he tries again, his breath catching as your hips snap against his. He bites his lip, trying to suppress the noises escaping him, trying to hold on to some shred of control. But its slipping away, fast.

“You can’t what?” you mutter, your voice rough, “What’s wrong?”

He wants to hate it. Wants to stop. But he can’t.

You can tell Hyunjin is on the brink of losing it, the way his body—your body—trembled beneath you, his hands gripping the couch as he tried to hold on to something familiar. But there wasn’t anything familiar about this for him. He was in your body now, and you had all the power.

“I don’t…” Hyunjin swallowed hard, trying to get the words out, but they stuck in his throat. His voice sounded strained, like he was trying to hold onto something that was slipping away. “I can’t… it doesn’t feel like me.”

You paused, your hips stilling for a moment as you looked down at him—at yourself. He could see the confusion on your face, but there was something darker there too, something satisfied in the way your lips curled into a small, almost amused smirk.

“It’s not,” you say, your voice quiet, yet clear, “Not right now.”

You push your hands behind his back, slowly bringing him into your arms and pressing his body against yours. Hyunjin realizes then that he is being carried. You pad toward your bedroom in short awkward steps, “Hold on. I got you.” And he does,

 “Why are you carrying me?”

“Because I can.” You stand him up on the floor and turn him around to face the mirror, “Here. Look.”

In the reflection, you can see yourselves, your body, his, and the rest of your bedroom.

.                       You lean in closer, your breath hot against his ear. “See? It’s us,”. You murmur, your hands sliding down to grip his hips, pulling him closer.

It takes Hyunjin a moment to understand what you mean. It’s us. Looking in the mirror like this, it almost feels normal. Like you both are in the right body. You bend him over the bed, allowing him to still see the scene in the mirror. “And this is better than the sofa.”

The expression you’re wearing on his face makes him a little uneasy. So, he puts all his focus onto yours, the real you. Before he realizes it, you’re pulling him back on your dick again. He jolts at the sudden movement, his body curling up off the bed. Have you always been this…rough? Does it just feel different now? Why does he like it so much?

He lets out a choked sound, pressing his face into the sheets. This new angle lets you move deeeep inside, you can feel your eyes rolling into the back of your head. You’re throbbing inside of him, and you know he can feel it.

You hold him by the throat pulling him up to face the mirror, so he can see how good he looks when he’s fucking you, and how good he looks being fucked.

“You like that?” you groan as you rut into him faster, feeling his body clench tight around you. All he can do is nod. “I knew you would.”

 Nobody likes the sound of their own voice, but you don’t want to shut up right now. Letting the sound of Hyunjins voice ring through your head. Every word and every moan that comes to you escaping passed your lips. Why not go all out?

You take each of his wrists, pulling them behind his back, lifting him up off the bed, giving him a full view of your body in the mirror, but he can barely keep his head up, hair falling in front of his face, and when you start to stuff your cock inside him again, your tits bounce up and down with your thrusts. You watch as Hyunjin’s dick disappears inside your pussy, again and again. The sight brings you close to cumming, but you control yourself.

You take in a sharp breath, slowing your pace, allowing yourself to feel the slow drag of your cock against the walls of your cunt, watching Hyunjin through lidded eyes, his reactions make you want to give him more, impossibly more. Dying to see how good you can make him feel.

You put a leg up on the bed, pulling his ass back against your dick. Your hands slide up his back, grabbing him by the neck, and the other hand grabbing a handful of hair. You’re thinking maybe he’ll like that as much as you do and how loud he’s getting confirms it for you.

You push your cock in completely, feeling his pussy clench around you, needing friction, but you still inside him, “You take dick pretty well.” You say before you pull out leaving in just the tip, just before you slam back in suddenly. You continue fucking him in long, deep strokes, your personal favorite.

“Tha-ts no-ot fu- uhah ahhh..” Hyunjin tries to speak through your hard thrusts but fails.

“I’m not being funny,” you grin, taking his jaw and turning it towards you, taking his lips for filthy kiss, sliding your tongue into his open mouth, swirling them around each other. It’s not long before you’re trying to kiss but only panting into each other’s mouths closer and closer to cumming.

You wrap your arms around him in a tight hug, caging his smaller frame inside your arms. Fucking him harder, not any faster, just harder and deeper. Fucking him until you feel him stiffen up below you, feeling his hands clutching at your arms trying to ground himself. You keep driving your cock into him until it sounds like he’s crying.

“Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t sto-,” Hyunjin let out a choked sound, his head falling back as he came, his body convulsing beneath you as the orgasm tore through him. He wasn’t in control anymore—hadn’t been for a while. His body had already given in, and now his mind was catching up.

You could feel it too—the pressure building fast as you thrust deeper, pushing him through his orgasm. You tighten your hold around him, following close behind, the release hitting you hard as you cum inside him, your body trembling with the intensity of it all.

For a moment, the world stops, it takes you both a while to come down, your bodies collapsing together in a tangled mess. The air feels thick, heavy with everything that has just happened, and when you finally pull out, the silence between you is deafening.

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything. He lays there, staring up at the ceiling, his chest still heaving as he tries to catch his breath. You can see the conflict in his eyes—the way he is struggling to process it all. He wants to feel that this is just another hookup with you, but it isn’t. Not this time.

El FIN

second author's note: 🎵 i am yooouuu. I see me in youuu 🎶 i included like page break lines to show time skip but they didnt work when i pasted it in womp womp. look guys a bitch did her best. i tried to give yall the cute little pictures all the other hoes on here do. and i told yall it was weird. theres a lot of issues but writing this turned my brain into sloppy joe mix but if you made it to the end i appreciate youuuu soooo muuuchh. omg i feel like i fucked this up so bad anyway mwah mwah. Now go fuck yourself! Wink wink

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

An Arranged Marriage, part 28

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27

1.4k words

A much calmer Zen has a lot to unload.

(I am feral over my own character, ask box is always open for talking about my writing or just monster fucking in general!)

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Zen’s fluffy, shaggy hair tickled your nose as he stirred a bit and woke you. In the nearly two months you had been together you could not recall a single time when he slept in, seeing him still in bed was quite a surprise.

You kissed the top of his head and immediately felt him nuzzle against you, though you were not really sure if he was actually awake or if it was a subconscious reaction. His breathing was deep and even, and he seemed much calmer at least.

“Are you awake?” you whispered.

He nodded, apparently still not feeling quite up to speaking.

“Are you alright?”

Again he just nodded.

“Everything is alright my dear, I promise” you scratched the side of his head where his hair was cropped short, the only spot where you really could get through his dense hair to scratch his scalp.

“I ruined everything” his voice was so quiet as he spoke.

“No, no. You didn’t ruin anything Zen.”

“I hurt you the first time yesterday, then I went and did that.”

“And it’s ok, things happen, but you didn’t ruin anything.”

He stayed quiet and did not acknowledge you.

“I’m not mad or upset or anything” you tried to assure him, “I’m just worried about you, I just want you to be alright,”

“I am upset at myself.”

“I know” you kissed the top of his head again, “and we’ll figure it out together, I promise.”

That seemed to at least somewhat satisfy him, he gave another little nuzzle against you and you swore for just a moment that you heard him purr.

“How about I make us some breakfast? You’ve got to be starving by now, you never sleep this late” you offered.

“You are not good at cooking.”

“Then come sit with me and tell me what to do and keep me company.”

He nodded and shimmed off of you so you could get up.

Zen stuck at your side as you sat at the hearth, a blanket still wrapped around himself and his chin resting on your shoulder while he watched you closely. With a little guidance you were able to make a serviceable enough breakfast for the two of you.

It was a bit smothering how Zen chose to sit behind and a bit to your side so he could lean his chin on your shoulder. He decided to eat breakfast like that too, his arms wrapped around you as he reached for things, restricting how much you could move but you did not have the heart to try to get him to just sit next to you instead.

“It should not be like this” you heard him say softly.

“I know, but this is where we are, and we can go back to taking things slowly” you leaned against him and nuzzled him a bit, “and if it makes you feel any better, you felt incredible last night. But I can wait while we figure things out.”

He buried his face against your neck as best he could with his tusks getting in the way. It was faint, but you could hear his soft purring for just a moment.

“I am just so tired of waiting. I waited for so long for this war to end so I could just go home. And now instead I am here, where I barely get to speak my own tongue, my festivals are not celebrated here. I fought so one day I could go home, and I still cannot. And now I do not want to wait more to have you.”

It never occurred to you that Zen might be homesick. You knew he was not from the city, but he usually seemed happy. He knew so many people, always stopping to smile and chat with when the two of you were out, he knew his way around the city well, everything always seemed fine anyways.

“Have you gone back to visit recently?” you asked.

“Not since the end of the war. I went home to see everyone, and then almost immediately got summoned here and offered the position.”

Six months then you figured at least since he had been home. Six months since Zen had started living somewhere where everything was new and different, where he did not have his family, where he could almost never speak his own language. The irony that neither of you were home here was not lost on you.

“Why not go visit?” you asked.

“I do not have the time. There is just to much to do here” he said.

“Even just for a week or so?”

“We are rebuilding after a war. It is a puzzle of constantly changing and moving pieces trying to figure out what is needed and where.”

“And no one on the council ever takes time away?”

“Some do.”

“So why don’t you?”

He stayed quiet, his face still buried against neck.

“We can go visit together, if you want” you said.

“Maybe.”

‘Maybe’ was better than ‘no’ at least you figured. Though it felt odd that for someone who seemed to be homesick to also be so resistant to visiting home.

“I haven’t met any of your family, well except Bira. I think it would be nice if we went and visited.”

“I did not tell my family I got married.”

You pulled away from him just enough to look him in the eye, “What?”

“It was decided pretty fast, and at the time it did not seem like a big deal, so I did not say anything.”

“Zen! We’ve been married for almost two months! What do you mean you never actually told your family? When you found out you were getting married you didn’t send them a letter or anything?!” you could not believe what he was saying.

“I was told I was getting married in a month’s time, but at the time I did not consider it real. It was just another thing I had to do. It did not seem worth making a big deal of and getting my family involved.”

You really were not surprised that it was not something he made a fuss over, he already had told you that arranged marriages were not a thing here, it was just another duty to him on par with anything else really. But it did surprise you that months after he still had not told his family.

“So they really don’t know?” you asked.

“No, just Ba and Bira, and I asked them not say anything.”

“And you’re sure they haven’t said anything?”

“If my mother knew I was married and she was not here for the wedding she would have made the trip here to yell at me in person by now. I would never hear the end of it.”

“So that’s it? You’re just going to somehow never tell your family that you’re married?” you snapped a bit at him.

“No! No” he tried to press his forehead to yours, frantically tugging at you so he could face you and reach you. “I just do not know what to do now.”

“Tell your family” you answered him flatly.

“I know, but now I do not know how to do that now. I do not want to just show up and surprise them, ‘Hi mother, I have not seen you in months. By the way this is my wife, we have been married for two months and I never told you’ because that will go well.”

“Why not send a letter? Just explain the same thing you told me” you suggested. His family would probably still be annoyed, but at least it would help smooth things over.

“It is not easy to send a letter that far” he protested.

“So you would rather just show up and surprise them?”

“No.”

“Then send a letter.”

He sighed and nuzzled his forehead against yours, “I will send a letter.”

“And perhaps we’ll visit for the next festival?”

“Maybe.”

“You can’t avoid your family forever.”

“Not forever, just long enough to not be yelled at too much.”

“Zen” you pushed back.

“We will go for the next festival” he finally conceded.

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Tag list

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[studiogrimm810]

Not Made For This

pairings: (pining) psychic!sam winchester x gn!you, dean is also there

summary: after following one of sam’s visions, sam and dean meet another psychic kid who had the same vision as sam and he starts to take a protective liking to them

warnings: graphic depictions of violence, psychic visions

word count: 5,506

A/N: this was a request! i hope i did the idea justice!! this definitely went on a bit longer than intended but i had a lot of fun writing it. enjoy! ^.^

———————

Soft rain pattered on the foggy window that Sam’s head lay against. By the end of the day, they would arrive at the scene of his latest premonition. Sam kept a watchful eye on any news reports from the area due to a painful paranoia of if he’s too late.

It was late last night when Sam was so rudely torn from sleep with the adrenaline rush of yet another vision of some poor soul losing their life. This time, it had been a middle aged woman with curly red hair and a nose dusted with freckles. She appeared to be an innocent woman, a happy woman with a smile that almost calmed Sam during his vision. But her life was so needlessly taken by some thief with an eager trigger-finger.

There was another person he saw in the far background- a blurry, anxiety ridden figure, frozen in place, as the impact of the bullet with the woman’s chest woke Sam with a start. He quickly woke Dean to instruct that they needed to start driving to the landmark Sam spotted in his vision- some pub in Scottsdale, Arizona.

Sam hadn’t been able to get a wink of rest since. They’d been on the road for almost 9 hours and they were only halfway there.

“We should switch out, Dean, I can take it from here,” Sam offered, sitting up in his seat, he hoped that the distraction of driving, and the quiet lack of a 10th repeat of one of Dean favorite tapes, would provide enough spatial clarity to calm him just enough to survive this trip.

“You’re running on 2 hours, kid, I’m not risking you crashin’ my baby,” Dean scoffs with an upturned lip, rustling Sam’s hair just to mess with him. Dean would never admit this to Sam, but having his baby brother next to him on the road was something he never knew he needed until he lost it, and now he would relish in any moment with Sam to savor the pettiness of annoying his sibling.

“You’re not much better,” Sam sasses as he pulls away his head from Dean’s hand with a scowl. “Just let me know if you get too tired.” Sam rests his head back on the window, watching raindrops race each other as they descend the slick glass.

Dean's gaze hardens as Sam shuts down again. He hoped that Sam had finally snapped out of his funk since his vision. Dean worries about Sam, knowing these visions of people dying aren’t really sitting well with Sam, but there’s nothing he can do about it except help Sam save those they can. So that’s why he straightens his posture, turns his music down just a hair, and focuses on the dampened road before him.

———

The wash of dread that riddles Sam as the Impala passes a scene of police tape and flashing lights make him physically sick. Dean quickly parks the car to allow Sam to find the nearest patch of grass to empty his already depleted stomach.

They had rolled into town just after dark and were looking for a motel when sirens caught their attention and led them here. Dean stepped a bit closer to observe the scene, finding a dark puddle of blood on half rain-dried patch of pavement in an alley. The scent of gunpowder was still fresh along with a stench of sulfur, mixing with the warm rain.

Sam spit to clear out his mouth the best he could and tried to push down the gnawing guilt that came with his failure. He held his head high to prevent any pooling of tears in his lids and tried to collect himself.

Once he felt he had a semblance of apathy, he turned to find his brother who tepidly paced the span of police tape to gather any visual or auditory information. Sam had to pull his gaze away to keep himself in check. His eyes scraped over the crowd that had formed, some concerned faces, others curious. But one spectator stood out, a person who���s expression could only be described as devastation.

Their eyes were widened with exhausted fear and it was clear they were in shock. Their mouth was agape and a hand hovering just a few inches away to cover part of their face. They looked ready to dart as they took a few cautious steps back and their eyes remained locked in the gurney rolling a bagged body into a van labeled ‘MORGUE’.

Sam’s brows furrowed as his eyes watched the figure as they darted up the street. Sam wastes no time to follow them. He doesn’t know what the pull is or why it’s there but it’s strong. It’s like he can’t help his feet as they chase the stranger. He even ignores Dean’s calls for him.

The figure turns down an alley and Sam picks up his pace to keep up. As he reaches the corner, he slows as the sounds of panicked breathing echo from the brick.

Dean, who reluctantly followed Sam in his spontaneous dart, calls out, “what the hell, Sammy?” Sam snaps his head back, holding his finger to his tight lips.

“Wait here,” Sam whispers. Dean becomes even more curious but respects his brother's instructions- for once, Sam thinks.

Sam walks around the corner, trying to find the source of the hyperventilation, and his eyes land on you.

Your eyes were still wide and panicked like they were at the scene. You were shaking terribly and uttering nonsense as you tried to talk yourself down. Sam couldn’t make out what you were saying.

He took a cautious step forward, looking you over for anything out of the ordinary or any injuries.

“Excuse me,” Sam calls softly, hoping to not startle you. He failed.

You flinched at his voice, body tensing as you took in his disheveled appearance and sleepy eyes lined with heavy bags.

“I, um,” he didn’t really have a plan of what to say. “Are you okay?”

The sight of a sudden stranger shocked your lungs a bit to settle just enough, as if they reset, but your lungs still felt tight and the tremble through your core made you shiver.

“I’m Sam,” he offers, taking another step closer.

A sudden sharp throb in his skull made him gasp as an image flashed before his eyes. The image of the figure in the background of his vision, it was you. He weakly pulls himself back together but your prying eyes watching him struggle to keep a straight posture makes him flush in embarrassment.

“You knew her,” he states simply with a heavy rise of his chest catching his breath after the rattle in his skull.

“H-how do you know that?” The voice that pours out of your mouth is sweet like syrup. A gentle settle onto Sam’s ears like a balm.

“Just a guess,” Sam scoffs lightly, letting out the air his body subconsciously stored as he awaited your reaction.

“Why did you follow me?” You ask, darting your eyes down to his hands, then his hips, then his face again. You looked for any potential threats because you were now cornered in this alley by a very tall stranger.

Sam realized his mistake.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” he takes a few steps to the side, opening a clearing for you to walk past him if you deem it necessary.

Your instinct is to bolt again, but you don’t.

“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” Sam answers, keeping soft, discerning eyes on you.

You don’t know how to answer, you’re absolutely not okay. Three hours ago, you had a migraine that flashed images of your history professor being mugged just outside of the bar most students and teachers on campus frequent. It was completely irrational and most likely nothing, but your paranoia got the best of you and you had to go out just to make certain. Sure enough, Dr. Evans was at the bar with another professor and when they parted ways at the end of the night, it was a frame by frame replica of the horrific scene that invaded your mind just a few hours before. You were frozen and couldn’t believe it.

But you couldn’t tell Sam that, he would think you’re crazy, right?

“I’m fine,” you say with no emotion to back you up but plenty of hesitation to work against your mask of nonchalance.

“You saw it happen,” he blurts out before he can stop himself. Your eyes widen again with a glossy veil of tears.

“How do you know that?” You echo an already asked question. You had no clue who this guy was but he seemed to know everything about what’s wrong with you at the moment- well, not everything.

“No, that’s not what I mean,” Sam shakes his head. He doesn’t know what makes him so confident, but he knows he has you pinned. “You saw it, like before it happened.”

Okay, so maybe everything. Seriously, who the fuck is this guy?

“It’s okay,” Sam hurriedly follows upon seeing the twist of complete perplexity. “I saw it too, and you were there,” in his head, this was reassuring, but he definitely feels like he’s freaking you out even more.

“What the fuck-,” you exhale a laugh of incredulity, tilting your head back with a roll of your eyes. You’re actually losing it. This is it.

“No, it’s okay-.”

“You’re doing a really shitty job at this, Sammy,” a gruff voice interrupts. Around the corner, a brick wall of a man with his hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket emerges with a stoic glare that makes you shrink.

“Dean, I told you to wait,” Sam hisses.

“You’re freaking them out, man,” Dean gestures toward you with his elbow.

“What’s your name?” Sam zeros in on you with a pleading look of determination- sweet puppy dog eyes that show the sincerity of how much he seems to care.

You offer your name simply and when Sam echos it, it soothes you further.

“I had a vision of that woman getting shot last night,” Sam’s solemn words weigh down the tension between you, “and I think you did too.”

You look over to the man who hasn’t introduced himself yet, he stared back with a painfully unreadable expression that unsettled you. You swallow thickly as your eyes leave him and glaze over the cracked and pebbled ground beneath you.

“It didn’t feel real,” your voice leaves as a whisper and Sam listens closely, nodding softly to encourage you to continue, “it was a few hours ago,” you clear your throat and look back up at Sam with a pathetically drained expression. Sam offers a small smile, hoping to supply even a nudge of comfort. “What’s happening to me?” The desperation in your voice makes Sam’s face fall a bit and he gives the pebbles on the ground his attention for a moment.

“We’re trying to figure that out,” Sam puffs his chest with a feigned confidence and an assured nod as he looks back up at you.

“She was my favorite professor,” your voice cracks, “and I had to watch her die, twice,” your voice wavers, full of thick anguish that weighs you down through a metaphorical quicksand that threatens to swallow you whole.

Sam clenches his jaw to hold back the sting in his eyes and distract himself from the lump in his throat. He remembers his first vision, how confusing and frightening it was.

But there was something about you specifically that made him really feel for you, something about the innocence you radiated- like you had never experienced pain beyond the loss of a pet.

Sam started to form what he wanted to say to you next, but the groan that escaped your lips as you fell to your knees kicked any queued thoughts out of sight.

The images that flashed before you burned bright like the sun, making your eyes sting in the glare. You cry out softly, holding your head in your hands as waves of pressure press deeper and deeper into your skull. You feared the bone would shatter.

Through a foggy, disorienting eyeglass, you see a man in his own home making dinner, when another man breaks in and attacks the first man. The intruder's eyes held no light, they were pure onyx.

The intruder takes a large piece of glass from the window he broke through and stabs the first man more times than you can count.

The images flash away and the pressure around your skull lightens. Your breathing is labored and you feel hands on you that weren’t there before.

Sam.

He beckons your name, talking you through the attack. When you fully come to again, he’s kneeled beside you with a comforting hold on your arm and his free hand keeping you sturdy by holding your back. Dean has crouched just a few feet away from the bundle of you and Sam.

“Hey, you’re okay,” Sam nods, his large hands roaming your back innocently. “What did you see?”

He dreads to hear the answer because of the sheer exasperation on your face. The sight nearly breaks him because he knows you’re feeling what he’s felt all day- the ticking timer of someone’s life in your hands.

“B-break in,” you get out in fragments, “A man in his home and there was- was another man. The one who broke in, his- his eyes were-,” you choked on your words.

“Black?” Dean finishes for you and you nod with a heavy sigh.

“The clock on the oven said 6:43,” you added, your voice barely harnessing any body behind them.

“So we have time,” Sam concludes, still rubbing your back.

“Is there anything else you can tell us? Any details?” Dean asks.

“There was a uh- yeah,” you nod, remembering a flash of mail on the kitchen counter, “the address.”

“Perfect,” Dean shrugged with a simple smile. “We can take it from here, you should just go home- get some rest,” Dean instructs, turning to face Sam and continue speaking but you interrupt him.

“No, I’m coming with. I can help,” you insist. You couldn’t let someone die again, you couldn’t even stomach the thought.

Sam smiles softly, admiring your determination but also recognizing the fire that will burn out too soon if you don’t take care of yourself first.

“We have time,” Sam repeats with a small nod, looking back between you and Dean. “You should go and get some rest, we can meet again tomorrow.”

You really could use a warm shower and a deep sleep, but how are you supposed to get that image out of your head? You watched someone get shot, twice. And just saw someone get stabbed.

You nibble on the inside of your cheek with a soft nod.

“I’m gonna get the car, Sammy,” Dean stands, patting Sam's shoulder and disappearing back onto the street. Sam’s eyes remain on you, though, as if he were trying to dig deeper and read further into your soul.

“Are you okay?” He asks, but this time it’s more simple- sedated.

“Honestly, I hope I’m dreaming,” you say, dazed on the glistening pavement that was still wet from earlier showers.

“You’re not,” he follows, not sympathetic but also not too direct, just a simple stated fact. You liked his forwardness.

“Why us?”

“That’s an explanation for another time.”

“So you know?”

“I’m not certain.”

It’s quiet again for a moment, a small rumble of an engine nearby settles in your chest like a comfortable anchor- a hitch to the fact that you’re just some person, in some alley, in some city. Nothing special.

“I can’t do this,” you breathe out.

“You can. You shouldn’t have to, but you can,” Sam says. Again, simple.

“How long have you dealt with this? The visions, I mean,” you ask, ignoring the headlights of a vehicle you assume to be Dean’s.

“A few months, I’ve met some others like us,” Sam hopes these words are a comfort to you, that you’re not alone. Your eyes squint in disbelief that make Sam breathe out a small chuckle. “Yeah.”

“This doesn’t make any sense,” you shake your head, holding your panic on a tight leash since it’s already done its damage for the night. You really wished to not lose it again in front of this handsome stranger. 

“It shouldn’t,” Sam shrugs, keeping his distinct eyes on you, taking in every detail to help him understand what you’re thinking or feeling. “It’s a lot to take in. A lot to resonate with,” Sam nods in understanding, “It’s also a lot to see something like… that for the first time,” he spits out his words carefully- calculated. “If you need anything at all, all you have to do is ask.”

And he really means it.

After a moment of silence, Sam understands that you'd prefer some space so he ticks his head to the opening of the alleyway, “my brothers waiting for us.”

Ah, so Dean is his brother, you connect.

Sam stands first and reaches out his hand to help you up. Under different circumstances you may have blushed at the generous help of this gorgeous man.

Sam leads you out of the alley to the most beautifully sleek car you’ve ever seen. You don’t really know your cars too well, but you know enough to understand that this must be a classic.

Sam opens the back seat door for you and you take your seat.

“We can take ya home if you need,” Dean offers as the door opens.

“I uh,” you clear your throat, “I live on campus, just follow the signs,” you point at the various signs that lead to the school.

Dean nods simply and takes you home.

Once arrived, Sam walks you to your building, holding out a piece of paper. “Listen, if you ever need to talk, call me,” he says with those same puppy eyes that really showed he cares and makes you feel like everything is going to be okay. “And if you’re insistent on helping then give me a call in the morning and I’ll be here,” he promises, “but just don’t push yourself, okay? Get some rest.”

Out of this entire night, the only thing that feels normal is him. “Thank you, Sam,” you smile softly.

Sam can’t help but feel a rush of warmth through his stomach as he sees how beautiful you look in this moment. Frizzy hair from the rain, damp clothes, tired eyes, and yet still a thankful smile that lights you up and makes him feel accomplished. 

You turn to open the door after saying goodnight and ascend up the stairs and to your dorm.

———

“Demons?” You sat on a motel bed in front of the two men who helped you last night. Dean, you had learned from context clues, sat at the small table provided by the motel and Sam had pulled up a chair to sit across from you as he did his best to explain everything they knew about yours and his ‘conditions’.

The pile of information flooded onto your lap was awfully hard to claw through but you managed to sort just enough to not feel absolutely crazy.

So far you have learned that a ‘yellow-eyed demon’ bled into your mouth as a child, causing you to have this ‘ability’ and that you’re supposed to be part of something greater. You’ve also had to cope with demons being real, along with ghosts and a handful of other spooky creatures that you didn’t let Sam elaborate on. Demons, ghosts, and psychics felt like enough for your lifetime.

You look at the clock in the wall, seeing it was only 11am. A pit of dread carved its way deep into your stomach as the harsh reminder of someone’s life being in your hands hits you once more.

“Do you have any questions for us?,” Dean sits up, watching you carefully.

“How do you guys know all of this stuff?” You nibble at the inside of your lip.

“It’s kinda our job,” Dean shrugged, “been doing it our whole lives.” He looks over at Sam who just nods back, keeping his eyes low.

You couldn’t imagine having to deal with life and death situations constantly. It hasn’t even been 24 hours since you had your first vision and it’s already taken a toll on you. However, you admire their commitment and courage.

Sam continues to answer any questions you have and offer you as much comfort as he could provide. You talk and talk, starting with the basics and important stuff regarding your shared abilities and such, but quickly morphing into more random conversation topics. You found out he went to Stanford for a few years, even had a girlfriend, but that part of his life was lost due to the yellow-eyes demon. It helps you understand his drive and motivation.

Something Sam says earns a genuine laugh from you that locks him in a daze. He feels beyond proud for getting you to laugh at a time like this, getting you to loosen up and relax even if it’s just for this moment. He watches as your eyes light up and your toothy smile erupts with a warm chuckle.

You yourself could get lost in his dimple, each time he smiles or laughs it pokes his cheek and it’s all you can focus on.

The dome around you both locked any unwanted force out, allowing you to have this frozen moment in time just for you and him. You even begin to forget about the looming reality of 6:43pm because talking with Sam just helps. Something about his presence is so calming and it’s like you’ve known him your whole life.

———

Soon enough, it’s time to scope out the man’s home, hoping to stop the invasion. You all piled into the Impala again which quite frankly was the most comfortable car you’ve ever ridden in.

“So, how are we supposed to handle the demon?” You ask from the back seat. Sam turns around to face you better as he answers you.

“We’ll trap it and exorcise it.”

“Not before I question it,” Dean adds, hands gripping the steering wheel. “There was sulfur at the crime scene, I’m guessing it’s the same demon.”

It’s a bit jarring how normal this feels, almost like this feels more normal than your finals coming up or graduation. Maybe it’s the drop of demon blood fed to you, like it’s pulling you towards this life and everything that comes with it.

That is not a comforting thought.

Demon blood.

In your veins?

What does this make you? Who does it make you?

You force the thoughts away, focusing on the fact that you can save someone’s life tonight, that it can prove that you aren’t what you fear you may be or may become. If this ability is going to be forced onto you then the least you can do is try and save someone in the process.

Dean parks the Impala far away enough to not be seen and to only be able to see the house with a set of binoculars. The plan was to wait until around 6:30 and then wait outside to see if they could find the demon and stop it before it even made it inside.

Sam goes over basics for this specific situation with you, telling you to stay with him and to keep the flask of holy water on you at all times. He assures that he and Dean have a handle on this and that you shouldn’t stray.

When the time comes, your nerves are at an all time high. You don’t really know what to expect, but when a hooded man makes his way towards the house you’re all watching, you know you just have to work with what knowledge has been given to you.

“Let’s go, stay close,” Dean says to both you and Sam and you nod in response. Dean leads the way as Sam guides you in front of himself by the small of your back. The touch is gentle and almost loving.

“Remember what I told you and you’ll be fine,” Sam whispered in your ear, making you shiver as his breath tickled your neck. His hand on your lower back gripped ever so slightly as if he were affected by the domestic touch as well.

As they got closer, Dean attacked the demon, spraying it with holy water. Sam carefully shoved you behind him, the placement of his hands feeling as if they were supposed to be there all along. The demon screamed at the pain but once the holy water fizzled down, he started cackling.

“What’s so funny?” Dean grunts but the demon only continues to laugh. “Who sent you!” Dean slams the demon into the brick siding of the house. “You killed that professor, didn’t you?”

The demon continued to laugh before unhinging its jaw and letting a thick black cloud of smoke roll out past its lips. “Dammit!” Dean growled, dropping the unmoving body to the ground. You watched as his jaw remained open and his eyes wide in dull fear. He was dead. The host was dead. You didn’t save him.

Sam turned to face you, standing to block your line of vision on the body just a few feet away.

“It’s okay, don’t look at him,” Sam tried to soothe but you felt distraught.

“He’s dead,” you breathe out, looking past Sam to see the body again but Sam places his hand on your jaw to firmly hold your face back.

“He’s been dead for a while,” Sam explains, “that’s what happens with possession. He hasn’t been himself for long enough, it’s better this way.”

You couldn’t even imagine what it must be like to lose your own body to a demon like that. You suppose Sam is right.

There’s a loud shatter nearby that startled all of you. Dean is the first to head to the side door, quickly kicking it in and heading to where he hears the crystals of glass coming from. Sam takes your hand and leads you with him, staying close to Dean but keeping you closer.

Once you all make it inside and to the kitchen, the sight is like the one you saw last night. There was a pile of shattered glass on the floor and the smell of something tomato-ey cooking. Except this time, the victim's eyes are black and he’s the one holding a large shard in his bloody hand. He starts to cackle and the sound makes you connect that this was the demon from outside.

Sam starts to chant something you can’t really make out but the impact it has on the demon is surprising. The moment the first words leave Sam's lips, the laughter stops and a scowl replaces the demon’s temporary face. It starts to jerk as if it were taking hits but it manages to lift the shard and stab it deep into its abdomen.

You gasp in shock, watching as the blood stains the shirt of this poor man who, by all you know, had absolutely nothing to do with this whole mess.

Sam’s words speed up and as he finishes, the demon expels from the man’s mouth and singes into the hardwood beneath him, burning away for good this time.

Dean is the first to run after the man as he stumbles, he’s still present and his eyes are panicked.

“Wh-who are you! Why did I do th-that?” He stutters with an underlying groan. Sam whips out his phone to call 911 and you just feel frozen- useless.

You feel like you failed.

———

After the man was rushed to the hospital, Dean dropped off you and Sam while he went out for dinner. You felt like a complete failure and Sam could tell how much you were kicking yourself for this.

“Hey,” Sam coos, sitting next to you on the lumpy couch in his and Dean’s motel room. “He’ll be okay, EMT’s said they arrived just in time. Mark is going to make a full recovery,” he adds emphasis on the name, hoping to show you even further that you actually saved someone.

“I didn’t do anything, I just stood there.”

“You helped us find him and that saved his life.” Sam insists, reaching out to hold your hand. “This stuff doesn’t come with instructions, you just have to learn to do the best with what you have given to you. And that’s exactly what you did tonight, you did everything you could and it saved a man’s life,” Sam searches your eyes, hoping you’re listening and actually believing his words.

You sigh and rest your head in your free hand, “I don’t know how I’m just supposed to go back to school. It feels so unimportant in the midst of all of this,” you nibble at your cheek again. Sam's eyes float the movement under your cheek and he smiles warmly, adoring the small habit of yours.

He lets your words sink in though, the idea of you dropping school so close to graduation. He doesn’t wish this path on anyone else, but he sees so much of himself in you that it’s a little scary.

“I just feel like I have this- this evil running in my blood, that my body isn’t my own, that I’m not who I’m supposed to be,” you pull up your head to lean it into the headrest of the couch, turing to look at him again and he rests his head next to yours as well, looking right into your eyes. He's a lot closer than he was before. “Like…”

“…Who you’re supposed to be is someone you won’t want to be,” Sam finishes in your trailed thought in a whisper, and it clicks like the last puzzle piece in your unspoken thoughts.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, your eyes stinging with fearful tears. “I don’t know who I’m supposed to be,” you shake your head. There’s something about Sam’s eyes that holds you captive. That allows all of these fears and uncertainties to just fall out of your mouth and into his hands for him to collect for safe keeping.

“Only you can decide that,” Sam says, as if it's that simple. “You can go to school and live a normal life and ignore this world,” he urges, hoping that you’ll do what’s better for you, that you’ll just be selfish.

“I can’t do that, I can’t just pretend that my visions don’t mean something. I can’t let people die,” your voice cracks, but your tone proves that these are the most solid words to escape your lips in the past two days.

Sam reached his hand up to cup your jaw again, loving the feeling of your warm skin in his hold. It felt so natural and so right. His eyes search your face for any hint that he could talk you out of throwing your life away for the greater good. He wishes that this weight wasn’t on your shoulders, that you could just drop it and run far away.

He knows what this life does to people, he’s experienced it first and second hand, but he also knows the gratification and pride that comes with a life like this- the reward. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, maybe it was meant to pan out like this.

His thumb caresses your chin, feathering past your lip ever so slightly that it earns a soft intake of air from you.

The tension between you and Sam had become undeniable, it was odd how quickly you had trusted him and how natural it was to be around him- to touch him.

“Come with us,” Sam speaks, his eyes dipping to your lips for a moment, “if you’re insistent on using your abilities to help, then come with us. At least until you learn enough to handle yourself. You’ll be safer,” he caressed your chin again, this time allowing his thumb to brush past the better half of your lip.

This was crazy.

This is crazy.

But goddamn if it didn’t feel right.

Your whole life you felt out of place, forcing yourself to stick to what’s safe and what you know. Sticking yourself in bubbles and boxes of those around you, mimicking what seemed the best for you and your future- but what you felt right now? The contentment in the unknown of the future? The certainty of this moment alone was enough to convince you that maybe you’ve been living your life wrong this whole time, maybe your calling was more than college and parties and marriage and careers.

Maybe your purpose is with these two hunters, saving people and using your forced abilities for the betterment of others.

Maybe your old life was never meant for you.

Maybe this was what’s you were made for.

———————

thank you so much for reading!! <3

>pictures are not my own, i have the originals linked here (pinterest) >>check out my other works here

[slut4christopherr]

— WE ARE OVER —

C.S

warnings: crying, swearing, breakup, arguing, yelling, cheating

if i missed any, lmk!!

summary: everything seemed perfect, until that one night you and chris break up after 2 years due to him cheating, read to find out more

a/n: writing this from experience/what happened to me with my ex, i have gotten away from him & i have a new bf now of 1 and a half years!! have an amazing time reading, any requests are taken!!

not proofread!!

chris talking = orange

matt talking = blue

nick talking = purple

you talking = white

me and chris were lay in bed, watching tiktoks, his arm lazily draped around my shoulder, im wearing his fresh love hoodie which hadn’t been released yet.

i felt happy, my head nuzzling into his shoulder as his thumb scrolls to another video, making us laugh as it was matt as a child

suddenly.

his phone buzzes, i look up at the notification, seeing a message pop up

sophia🩷

i had so much fun last night, literally can’t walk lol!! x

my heart stopped, fell to my stomach and rotted in that moment

my ears rang, a high pitched sound, my stomach felt sick

chris instantly looks at me, throwing his phone against the mattress

“babe, let me explain-“

i refuse to make eye contact with him and stand up

chris reaches to grab my wrist to pull me back down but i pull my arm away from him

“don’t fucking touch me christopher.”

his face drops, we usually only call eachother nicknames like

“baby, babe, love, ma”

but him being called his full name made his heart drop even lower than it was

i walk out of the room, seeing nick and matt and nick sat on the couch in the living room, watching a movie

chris walks out after me, leaning against the wall

nick and matt look up at me, then chris, then back to me

“hey, you okay?”

i just stand there, skin pale, tears swelling up my eyes

“babe-“

i turn to look at him

“shut the FUCK UP!”

my voice echoed off the walls, the tears streaming down my cheeks as i look away from chris and sit on the arm of the couch, feeling physically sick

matt looks at chris

“what the fuck did you do bro”

chris stammers

“i-i- babe, please, please hear me out.”

matt repeats himself, his voice louder than before

“what the fuck did you do chris?!”

i refuse to make eye contact with chris, looking at the floor

i say with a low voice, barely above a whisper

“explain yourself.”

chris sighs

“look, it was a mistake, we were drunk, i only want you baby-“

chris tries to grab my hand but i push him away

“oh so ‘drunk’ is your excuse?! newsflash!! that’s the oldest trick in the book chris! you wanted to fuck her, just because i didn’t want to because i had been working all fucking-“

my words get cut off as more emotions hit me, tears staining my cheeks & neck

matt and nicks faces drop, realising what had happened

“dude, that’s fucked”

chris rolls his eyes

“will you shut the fuck up matt?!”

matt throws back at him

“no i won’t ’shut the fuck up’ because you know she loves you, with EVERYTHING!!”

his voice raises higher and higher

“and you go and fuck another bitch like she was nothing to you??! i’m fucking disappointed”

i look at chris

“we are fucking over chris. OVER!”

chris’ face has guilt and regret written all over it

“baby, you don’t mean tha-“

i cut him off

“oh yeah i do”

matt grabs my shoulder in a comforting way

chris holds back tears

“so you wanna fucking break up? i’m sorry you didn’t touch me when i was horny as fuck, my dick was sore!!!”

i scoff

“you could of jerked off chris?! not go fuck a whole other girl?! what the fuck is wrong with you?!”

matt chimes in

“Chris ive heard you jacking it a few times, what’s the problem with yesterday?”

i cut matt off

“also, thought you were drunk? or was you feeling like that much of a fucking whore?!”

chris stares at me

“look, it’s not like your any better?! your never here your always working at that shitty job?! what do you expect me to do! you come home, sleep, i wake up, your at work?!”

anger bubbles up inside of me, is he fucking kidding?!

“to put food on the fucking table chris?! without me working you’d be on your ass!”

chris grabs his shoes, phone and car keys

“just don’t talk to me.”

that was the last straw

“oh so your the one leaving now? proving you don’t give a fuck!!”

chris slips his shoe on and sighs

“your the only person i truly care about y/n”

his voice was low and shaky

i didn’t even realise he’d said that because of how quiet he’d said it

“if your gonna walk out of my life, i’d rather you do it, right fucking now, and go fuck sophia whilst your at it”

chris’ emotions pour over him, tears streaming down his face

“have an amazing life y/n, i hope you find the right guy for you one day, clearly, i’m not him”

he walks out of the door, slamming it behind him

no more late night tiktoks

no more fresh love hoodies

no more sweet kisses

no more bubble baths with him

no more chris

a/n: this was litreally made in 10 mins i’m so sorry it’s so bad but i hate reliving that day 😭 but sophia if ur seeing this n you know who tf u are, his dick wasn’t enough pleasure anyway, my bf now has an amazing cock, anyways , enough trauma dumping, hope you guys enjoyed!!

with lots of love & fat boobs — mia!!❄️

taglist: @mattscoquette @mattsmedusa @mattsstarlet @mattslipgloss @mattsmyhomie @chr1sslvtt @christmastreecake @chrisprettybaby @chrissturniolodailysluts @chrisweetheart @chris-hallelujah @sturnshood @sturniololuv08 @sturniolosweets-deactivated2025 @sturniolospumpkin @mattsbendystraws

[chiacanwritesometimes]

the three times you tried, and the one time it worked. (part 2)

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

ship: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 1.6k

author’s note: this is unedited, so there might be some grammatical errors. this fic dives into themes of pregnancy, miscarriage, and alcohol. please please please do not interact if these themes bother, trigger, or make you uncomfortable. all information regarding my statistics have been sourced from mayo clinic, nhs.uk and cleveland clinic. please let me know if i got anything wrong so i can update this with the most accurate information! if you have gone through something like this or similar, please reach out to support groups or hotlines. i will link some down on the notes as soon as i can!

eek! one part left! i have enjoyed writing this so far, and i might do a “what they’re up to now” when im done with this series. i hope you enjoy reading it :P

===========

it was hard on him as well. how do you go from being thrown seventy years into the future, from meeting the love of your life, to losing a baby with her?

her screams haunted him, almost as much as…

he tried not to think about it too much. he promised her he was starting a new life with and for her, although she encouraged him to talk about the past to better understand him and to help him work out the trauma.

he spent most of his days in the office, filling out paperwork. he called time off from work, but you got well enough to the point where he could return without fear of you hurting yourself. most nights were spent holding each other, with either one of you or both of you crying.

80 percent of miscarriages happen in the first trimester. it’s not that you weren’t fertile, but what you both didn’t account for was how his super soldier genes would affect everything, having the baby develop faster than it’s little body could handle. it was eight centimeters long, contrast to the common five centimeters. he blamed himself for it, but you assured that through no fault of his, it happened. you didn’t want to grow to resent him, as you knew deep down it truly wasn’t his fault. you buried yourself in statistics to find loops and explanations as to why, why you, why this, just…why. for women under 30, 1 in 10 pregnancies end in miscarriage. around 10-20% of pregnancies end in miscarriage. you became depressed, finding yourself as another statistic to write down, another number in a chart. he caught on to what you were doing, but didn’t know how to handle it. he mostly just held you, and whispered words of comfort into your ear.

“why did it have to be us?” you whispered softly, one night, as he spooned you.

he paused for a moment. “i don’t know.”

“if only i-“. he cut you off. “stop. you know it wasn’t your fault. we’ll try again when you’re ready, okay?”

you went out with your friends one day, a small reward you gave yourself for being so strong. you felt bad for leaving him home, but he assured you that he would be productive.

you really didn’t drink. that’s what you kept telling yourself as you ordered, and kept ordering. you really didn’t, you just didn’t know what came over you. maybe it was the fact that the drinks were cheap, or the company was good. or maybe it was the five month anniversary. you tried not to think about it much, as you didn’t want to depress your friends. your sorrows were washed away, and for the first time in a while, you felt whole. soon, you were drunk. not tipsy, but full on, shit faced drunk. your giddy smile convinced your friends to call him, and it wasn’t long before he was there to pick you up. he scooped you up with ease, and chuckled at your exaggerated affection towards him.

“you’re drunk.” he teased, as he sat you down in the passenger seat.

“and you’re not.” you teased back. he closed the door and walked over to the drivers seat. he sat down and took a deep breath. he didn’t start the car just yet, he was just looking at you.

“well i can’t get drunk, you know that. plus, im driving. wouldn’t be responsible.”

“and you’re known for always following the rules, yes yes.” you said in a mock serious tone, making him snort.

“low blow.” he responded, as he turned the key to the ignition. the hum of the engine proved to be a good melody lulling you to sleep, and your head bobbed as you tried your hardest to stay awake. his hand was on your thigh, and his thumb traced circles. it proved wonders, and you quickly fell asleep. the car ride was fifteen minutes long, and your eyes fluttered open as your body recognized the turns to your home. you stretched your arms, muscles sore from all the dancing you did with your friends. he was humming a song, one you tried to recognize.

the music started, and was i the perplexed one?

he stopped the car, and walked to your side, opening the door.

i held my breath and said, may i have the next one?

his soft voice made your ears turn red. he helped you out of the car, and scooped you bridal style. you giggled. he walked to the front door, and you unlocked it. he gently placed you down as you both entered, and he continued.

in my frightened arms-

you smiled. “polka dots and moon beams.” you said. you recognized the song, and as you took your shoes off, he beamed at you. he nodded and continued.

polka dots and moon beams, sparkled on a pug nosed dream.

he whistled the improvisation of the trombone, and took your hands as he led you down the hall to the dining room. there, a candle lit table with two plates.

“i had this planned, but i didn’t want you to not go out with your friends.” he admitted sheepishly. you gasped and smiled.

“this is so sweet.” you were slowly sobering up. your clothes felt heavy on you, and you suggested putting on pajamas. he agreed, and the both of you walked upstairs as you talked about the events of the night. he listened intently, and sat down on the bathroom counter as you took a quick shower. the warm air made your baby hairs cling to your skin, and the mirror foggy. you finished, and grabbed the nearest towel and covered yourself. you walked out of the shower, shivering slightly from the temperature difference. you walked over to where he sat, and smiled at him.

“hi.” you said softly, soaking in the intimate moment.

“hi.” he replied, equally as gentle. he cupped your jaw, and planted a small kiss on your lips. he leaned his forehead on yours, and closed his eyes.

“you smell good. new shampoo?”

you nodded.

“you’re welcome to try it.” you smiled, running your damp hand through his hair. he grabbed your wrist, and starting placing small kisses on your knuckles, your palm, your fingers.

“you’re so pretty.” he said as he sat up from the counter and towered above you. you grinned.

“you really think so?”

he nodded.

“oh yeah. everyone at work is so jealous of me.” he boasted as you snorted.

“oh, i’m sure.” you chuckled as he took your hand and twirled you and pulled you in, embracing you. he pulled you in a long kiss, holding the back of your neck and your waist. he sat you down on the counter and one thing led to another and…

you kept replaying those moments as you stared at the two lines on the second pregnancy test. you felt dread, but also joy? it was a mix of emotions. you felt scared, what if it happened again? 80 percent of miscarriages happen in the first trimester, you kept telling yourself. you just had to survive the first 12 weeks, and you’ll be fine.

you knocked on the doorway to his office, which was a huge step for you. you hadn’t entered that room since the incident. he looked up from his book.

“what’s up, birdie?” birdie. a nickname he used after catching you singing along to one of your favorite records, and one he used sparingly. that nicknamed grounded you, and gave you the strength to fess up.

you held up the test, and said nothing.

“two lines?” he asked, with a tone you could almost register as nervousness with a twinge of fear.

you nodded. he stood up to embrace you, laughing.

“two lines!” he kept repeating, kissing your neck. this made you ease up, and soon, you were laughing as well.

“okay, okay! we have to be prepared this time.” you stated. “but also, we can’t get our hopes too up, what if-“. you stopped laughing. you cleared your throat.

“no matter what happens, we’ll…be fine, right?”

he nodded. “we’ll be fine. for better or worse, remember?”

“pinky promise?” your request broke his heart. he set you down and extended his own pinky finger, hooking it with yours. he took your hand and kissed it.

“i’m yours, through it all.” he said, smiling.

you two had decided to take a small vacation, to get your mind off things. you refused any food that could possibly hurt the growth of the fetus, and tried your hardest to stay optimistic. you steered clear of baby clothes until after the first twelve weeks were over. how betrayed you would soon feel.

as you were three weeks in, you felt strange. similar to the way it felt the first time, but you thought it was just morning sickness or something.

you both had travelled to maine, to watch the ocean. you decided that fresh air was what you both needed. not only was the salt air fresh, but it was cold, very cold. you had taken a midnight stroll with him on the sand, and went to bed at three in the morning.

you woke up with pain, similar to the pain you would feel with period cramps. you sat up and googled “miscarriage symptoms” with shaky hands. this couldnt happen again. how could this happen again? your stirring caused him to wake up, and he saw what was on your phone. his heart dropped as he made eye contact with you. your face was pale, your eyes filled with grief.

“james?” you said, cautiously. his eyes sank. you only called him by that name when things were extremely serious.

“yes, my love?”

80 percent of miscarriages happen in the first trimester.

…

part 2/3. update tmr!

[multifictional]

Following there's a kind of plot and a blurb for the acotar story I mentioned. The idea has been in mind for so long and I finally wanted to give it a try!

In the long run it will have anti-feysand hints, and it’s an Eris and Lucien centred fic, so be aware. I am still debating if making the reader an oc.

Here we go..

[Y/N] Archeron always felt the pull of autumn, even as a human. The fallen leaves, the warm colours, the spicy sweets, even her birthday. For Elain, her sister, it was the sun and the way of feeding her gardens and flowers with its light.

Together in the Night Court after being thrown into the Cauldron, they both feel out of place. But while Elain has her growing bond with Lucien, [y/n] remains an outsider. With her powers still silents even after years, she feels a longing in herself she can’t quite place.

A mating bond with Eris, heir of the Autumn Court, is the last thing she expects at this point and also what she needed the most without even realising.

This is Prythian though and, even without a new villain after their heads, nothing is never easy as it seems. Especially not in a life where court rivalries seem to have their way of creating complications.

Yes, it will focused on both relationship (Eris with the reader and Elain with Lucien). It would also be set after ACOWAR with some elements of ACOSF implied (just Nesta giving up her powers to save Feyre’s family and accepting the mating bond).

As the plot says, there’s no new villain. I suck at writing all fantasy war storylines so I leave this to people who actually can write them better than me. This doesn’t mean this story won’t have plot twists or… other things. The focus will be mostly on relationships between characters, their inner turmoils and courts rivalry.

And a lot of spice, sorry not sorry. Not right away though, especially for Eris and the reader.

Keep reading if you are curious about the blurb!

Eris looked at the food you placed in front of him with a strange look on his face. It seemed as if you just slapped him, a mixture of confusion and wariness. It was as if the heir of the Autumn Court was surprised for once.

But then his mask came back.

You looked at him expectantly, heart beating fast. This was the moment of the truth, the moment where your wish could become a reality: that your new life as a Fae wasn't completely worth nothing. That, after all, you had finally found your ground. Your place in a world that was so foreign and so meant for you at the same time.

But then your expectation fell on you like a lighting strike, sending your heart from the top of your throat to the bottom of your feet. He pushed the plate towards you, refusing your offering.

“I can’t accept the bond,” he said calmly, with a coldness that was opposite to the fire running inside his veins. He was used to that. “I won’t.”

The hurt you felt in that moment was new for you. You felt the bond tugging at you in a painful way, a string threatening to broke. He felt it too, but he masked that feeling instantly, burying the need for you and cursing the timing in his mind. You blinked, refusing to let him see a single tear coming from you.

“W-what? W-why?” you stuttered. You had thought that someone like Eris wouldn’t wait a second too much to claim what was rightfully his, and yet, here you were, in front of his rejection. “I thought…”

“You thought wrong,” he bit out. “I can’t accept the food, not right now. Not until the throne is mine.”

So that was the problem? Becoming High Lord? You couldn’t quite believe that.

Eris saw the uncertainty and doubt in your eyes. Despite all his instincts were screaming at him to calm you down, he didn't do any of that. His cool demeanour usually wouldn't have fooled you so easily, but you were too taken aback to see the truth masked beneath his actions.

It was better this way.

Quite voices reached both of you. You turned to see Lucien and Elain approaching from the nearly forest, talking quietly. Eris, though, didn’t stop watching you.

He saw the flickering of longing as you watched his half-brother with your sister. That look almost crushed his usually so composed self control. So, with a single thought, he winnowed away, leaving behind the wind of autumn that always called out for you.

“Was Eris here?” Lucien asked, meeting your eyes. Elain approached you, already sensing something was off.

You were far too quick to put on a mask of your own, offering them a hint of smile. “Why would he? He’s too busy planning his head out to his next move to pass by.”

The bitterness in your tone was unmistakable.

“Want to train your power?” Lucien offered, thankfully changing subject.

You looked at you hands with a scowl then looked back at him. The thought of your power was unwelcome in your mind, especially after what happened.

“Another time,” without another word, you walked away, not giving them a second glance.

Lucien and Elain gave each other a knowing look, but didn’t press further. You heard their soft whispering, and even if envy was’t an emotion you ever allowed yourself to feel, with the sting of your mate’s rejection still clear in your soul, you couldn’t help but long for what they had.

With all of that being said, would anyone be interested in it? Should I continue??

[mykingdomforapen]

It would be easier for Lu Guang to simply swallow it down and bear it. But it wouldn’t be right. 

In truth, nothing felt right. Heels of his hands pressed against his swollen, dry eyes, a crick in his neck, his heart trapped in his throat. One side of his head felt like it was being pulverized, the pain of the migraine stirring up trouble in his stomach. And Cheng Xiaoshi’s dulcet tones in his ear, his pleas no longer endearing. 

Lu Guang squeezed his eyes shut at Cheng Xiaoshi’s insistence. 

“Lu Guang, come on,” he said urgently. “We need to finish this.” 

This was a pile of photographs lined up across their coffee table, marked in chronological order, detailing the lifespan of a relationship between two cousins. The boys had grown up together like twins, Qiao Ling had told them when she outlined the case for them, but then grew apart after one of the cousins developed a gambling addiction. The last straw was when he stole money from his cousin’s mother to feed the insatiable beast, and the cousin cut ties. 

He suspects that his cousin also stole their grandmother’s jade, Qiao Ling told Lu Guang in preparation for the case. He wants us to help confirm if that’s true, and if so–if he sold it. 

Which would have been straightforward enough, if the gambling cousin was still alive. Unfortunately, he wasn’t. 

Hence, the ten plus photographs on the living room coffee table. 

Lu Guang shifted his hands from his eyes to his temples, giving them a sorry massage that only made him more miserable. He had been poring through photos for hours now, each of them a photo uploaded to the gamblin cousin’s cloud that the client had managed to pull, dating from five years ago–when the grandmother’s jewelry had gone missing–to five months ago, when the cousin had been found dead in his tiny apartment reeking of alcohol and debt. He scoured every interaction the cousin had with their elderly grandmother for any sign of theft, while Cheng Xiaoshi dived into any photo where he could root around the cousin’s apartment for proof. 

Even after five hours straight, they could neither confirm nor deny anything. The instant noodles that Qiao Ling had brought over to them had grown cold and untouched on the side. Lu Guang’s scalp scalded with the migraine, and Cheng Xiaoshi stank heavily of eucalyptus oil smeared under his nose to assuage the nausea that came from back-to-back diving. Lu Guang could smell its medicinal chill when Cheng Xiaoshi came too close to his ear. 

“Can you please back off?” Lu Guang said through gritted teeth.

Cheng Xiaoshi huffed as he threw himself backwards on the chair. Lu Guang avoided looking anywhere in his direction as he unscrewed a bottle of soy milk to ease his chapped throat. Cheng XIaoshi fared none better, but he had the self-perception of a goldfish to mask it. 

“We’re so close, though,” Cheng Xiaoshi said. “There were addresses to jewelry shops on his Baidu Maps search history. If we can find a photo that happened either right before or right after that one, I’m sure I can find more–” 

“Cheng Xiaoshi, we’ve been at this for almost six hours,” Lu Guang groaned. “Taking a break for at least thirty minutes won’t make a difference.” 

Cheng Xiaoshi huffed until his bangs flopped carelessly across his forehead. Lu Guang wiped his lips with the back of his hand, gagging slightly. 

“What if I forget?” said Cheng Xiaoshi.

Lu Guang exhaled deeply, teeth clenched and nostrils flaring so that it came more as the exasperated hiss of a steamer. 

“Then write it down, idiot,” he snapped. “Am I your mother?” 

Cheng Xiaoshi’s jaw clenched instinctively, just as Lu Guang’s did the same–for a moment, hesitating, ready to bite down on the words before they escaped his mouth. But they had punched their way through his teeth nonetheless, and at the end of the day, Lu Guang would have let them. Even if he knew that, while he never commented on it, it stung Cheng Xiaoshi. 

Because Lu Guang had said the same the first time they had this argument. 

-

The first time they had this argument, Lu Guang was still only twenty years old. He and Cheng Xiaoshi muddled through their abilities with curiosity and bravado. The only thing Lu Guang was afraid of was drowning, and it was abstract. 

The first time, Lu Guang grumbled at Cheng Xiaoshi. I’m tired, asshole, he said. Can’t you give me a break? Cheng Xiaoshi said something tone deaf–but you don’t even have to dive, you can just sit there and tell me what to do, it’s easy for you–and at that, Lu Guang stomped up to the bedroom, muttering it’s useless trying to argue with you to himself as he locked the door behind him. He burrowed himself angrily in the bedsheets and didn’t emerge until Cheng Xiaoshi cooked an entire apology dinner. 

I’m sorry, Cheng Xiaoshi said quietly when Lu Guang stuffed his mouths with softened carrots. Do you–do you want to talk about it? 

He said it with his back straight, even though his spine was shaking. Arguments rarely ended well in his experience–usually with a fist to the cheek, or a door slammed in his face while all the neighbors looked disapprovingly at him with full assurance that he was in the wrong. For Cheng Xiaoshi to be able to talk to Lu Guang took a bravery and a faith that he had to fight for, that he had to learn with blood, sweat, and tears to get through this life. 

Yeah, Lu Guang mumbled. I do, and they had finally laid their abilities on the table next to the pot of pork shoulder soup and small bowls of dipping sauce. This was new to the both of them, their magic of a great price, and they were learning their breaking points together. Lu Guang shared his needs to be met, Cheng Xiaoshi his fears of being of no help to others, opening their hearts to make space to grow, and at the end when Cheng Xiaoshi asked Are we okay now? Lu Guang said, Even better. 

So Lu Guang couldn’t grin and bear it, as much as he hated this frustration, this headache, the thought of tossing and turning on the top bunk with a heavy, hurting heart. He and Cheng Xiaoshi needed this moment where they grew so that the other could take up more space in their lives. Cheng Xiaoshi needed to learn that he would be loved even if he was upsetting. Lu Guang needed to learn to be honest. They were precious truths that would have carried them through the rest of their lives, if Cheng Xiaoshi had lived long enough for it. 

-

Except this was the second time Lu Guang was having this argument. Everything should be the same, but he wasn’t. 

He wasn’t because Cheng Xiaoshi was dead, and yet alive for now. Because Cheng Xiaoshi’s mission-driven stubbornness was what got him killed, and Lu Guang now could see the all bloodred flags leading up to September. Because Lu Guang could now name the anxiety that drove Cheng Xiaoshi into doing things now, before the wait of them consumed him alive, but Cheng Xiaoshi couldn’t yet and Lu Guang had to keep it to himself. Because he and Cheng Xiaoshi were plunging into the photos of a dead man over and over again, and every time Cheng Xiaoshi said something honest about it, Lu Guang had to swallow down how sick it made him feel. It’s so messed up, Lu Guang, Cheng Xiaoshi had said, that this guy has been dead for half a year, and I feel his heart beating in my chest. Lu Guang buried his face in his hands and tried not to cry, even when Cheng Xiaoshi was not here to see it. 

“Then write it down, idiot,” Lu Guang said, only realising belatedly he never said the last word the first time round. “Am I your mother?” 

Cheng Xiaoshi flinched. Lu Guang didn’t remember that. He thought Cheng Xiaoshi only gritted his teeth. There was a gleam in Cheng Xiaoshi’s eyes that could either be tears or nausea, but Lu Guang knew better than to point it out. Any time Lu Guang pointed out where Cheng Xiaoshi was falling apart at the seams, he would dismiss them like they meant nothing, like they weren’t the reason Lu Guang couldn’t sleep at night, terrified of morning. 

“The hell is wrong with you?” Cheng Xiaoshi muttered. 

“I’m tired, asshole!” Lu Guang snapped. He didn’t need a script for this. He felt sick to his stomach. He felt like nothing was ever going to be right, and he didn’t know how to make it better. He didn’t know what to do. “Can’t you give me a break?” 

“But you don’t even have to dive!” Cheng Xiaoshi protested. “You can just sit there and tell me what to do, it’s easy for you!” 

Was it easy? Was it easy to watch Cheng Xiaoshi throw himself into the past over and over again and shrug off Lu Guang’s concern as unnecessary, until he ended up on the wrong side of the bullet? To try again and again to look for what went wrong in the past, obsessing over each detail and torn butterfly wing until he scrounged for the right answer? To feel old and young at once, helpless and culpable simultaneously? To constantly lie, even though he was supposed to have grown to be honest? 

Go upstairs, his memory urged him. Lock the door behind you. Go. 

But something fiercer, louder than his memory took hold of him, balling itself into a fiery pit in his throat and scalding its way out of him. 

“It’s easy for me?” Lu Guang choked out. “Is it? I’m the one who has to try and figure out how to fix everything! I have to fix everything, and you never think twice!” 

Lu Guang felt the tears bully their way to his lashes, no matter how much he tried to fight them back. He stared at Cheng Xiaoshi until his vision blurred with sickness and fury, the boy he was supposed to save and couldn’t help but fail. I don’t know what to do, his soul cried out. I’m the only one who can fix this and I don’t even know what to do. 

“Useless!” Lu Guang hurled. 

He didn’t know to whom he was shouting it, but he knew as soon as it landed that he aimed it at the wrong place. Cheng Xiaoshi froze, breath stuck midway up his throat, eyes wide as if he had been shot in the stomach, and Lu Guang knew that look too well. He went as still as stone, scarcely breathing as Lu Guang’s voice settled like the remains of an earthquake, leaving behind silent wreckage. 

Lu Guang caught up with his breath, dizzy with the catharsis, until its tingling numbness gave way to sudden realization. This was not how any of this was supposed to go.  

Cheng Xiaoshi blinked rapidly, looking away–the tightening of his jaw could not mask the way his lips shook. 

“Forget it, then,” Cheng Xiaoshi muttered. “Let’s just–yeah. Break. Sounds good.” 

He stood up from the seat and left the room quickly, shoving his hands into his jacket pocket. He hurried out the front door of the shop, the twinkling of the door bell the only thing keeping Lu Guang company as he was left behind in the sunroom.

[knavcsblade]

hullo!

hope you're having a decent enough day/evening. i read your latest arlecchino oneshot and mm. yes. "amateur" writer my ass.

i have come by dint of the sheer scarcity of f/f sub!yae miko content. (they ask you how you are, and you just have to say that you're fine, when you're not really fine—)

anyway, thank you for your time! happy late holidays, if you celebrate.

- 🫠 anon

worry not, i'll indulge you, anon. i hope this is to your liking.

woven tails.

+18!

cw: sub!yae miko x (dom)f!reader. overly descriptive. cunillingus. fingering. slightly public sex, if you squint. overstimulation.

wc: 3.0k

summary: you have missed your playful kitsune so much you decided to pay her a visit at the shrine.

a/n: oh, how i love this woman. this was pretty fun to write! i did quite a bit of research on kitsunes and japanese culture for this… send help, thanks!

Sunsets had always been nothing short of beautiful at the Grand Narukami Shrine—truly a sight to behold. The sky’s hues shifted from bright blue to a stunning mixture of pink and reddish-orange in the blink of an eye. Or well, that is how the Lady Guuji would describe it, at least.

She idly stood beneath the ether, taking in its magnificence with twined fingers as the soft breeze washed away any lingering thoughts in her mind. The feeling of her rosy locks being brushed by the wind was almost a lullaby of its own.

The sole reason for her sudden distraction from the moment were the sound of footsteps approaching her, ones she recognized faultlessly. She could even feel you coming from a mile away if she paid enough attention.

“Always the unexpected visitor, aren’t you?” Her voice was laced with that usual wit of hers while she turned to face you. Her elegance was something you had always found intensely alluring, no matter how long it had been since you met each other.

You couldn’t help but watch her for seconds that felt like an eternity. Your eyes lingered on the intricate details of her stunning kimono-like outfit before you even dared to speak. What a breathtaking woman she was.

“Yes, well… I have missed you.”

Her eyebrow arched in pure amusement at your unexpected comment—that little smile of hers only enhanced her reaction. Every mannerism of hers was soft and graceful, and the sight turned perfect as she crossed her arms and you caught the way the cherry blossoms adorned the scene surrounding you both.

She wasn’t used to such vulnerabilities from anyone, even if you had been more open about your feelings in the past yourself.

“My, how bold.” Perhaps it was the dim lighting emanating from the sun that made her almost perceive a faint glow posed on your irises, or it was all a mere figment of her imagination. She knew that look on your face better than she would like to admit, however. “Your words are… delightfully quaint, I must say.”

Your surprise was even greater than hers had been towards your first sentence. She spoke with nothing but the truth, which was fairly uncommon—she had always enjoyed teasing and pranking you. At the end of the day, that was her nature.

Miko’s hum filled the silence as she took a few tentative steps towards you, a slight tilt of her head only demonstrated how occupied she was examining you internally. She knew why you missed her—what you missed that only she could give you.

She circled you slowly as she took in your looks. Her arm crossed loosely right below her breasts, the opposite elbow now casually resting against the back of her hand as her chin was caressed by her index with sluggishness. It was clear she knew just how seductive you found this whole ordeal.

“Are they?”

If only she knew how much you truly missed her… all of her.

“They are indeed,” the smile upon her features was one you could almost hear even though she was right behind you. “What an intrepid little thing you have turned out to be.”

After some time, once she got bored of her eyes roaming all over your frame, she stood before you with the corners of her lips generating that mischievous expression she carried around at every moment. Your presence made her heart pound in her chest, though she would never say it aloud.

This relationship you had with the kitsune was quite complicated in its own way. You belonged to each other in a style neither of you could describe, but enjoyed greatly each time you were face to face. It had taken you such an awfully long time to get her to show her different facets, but you wouldn’t change it for the world.

“I expect you to understand how preposterous it is for you to meet me at the Shrine for such reasons, however. Your cloying excuse is… as endearing as it is foolish.” Her velvety tone only served to make you shudder.

You knew it was ridiculous for you to show up unannounced and expect her to share her warmth, though you didn’t seem to mind it as much as she wished for you to by the way you exhaled loudly through your nose and wrapped an arm around her waist to squeeze her close.

Just how audacious could you really be?

She somehow maintained her poise despite being caught off-guard by your actions. All she could feel was the way your breasts pressed against each other’s and your hot breath against the skin of her soft face. She was grateful her clothing covered the goosebumps you had inflicted upon her—she wouldn’t want you to see the effect you had on her that easily.

“I’m aware of it, Miko. I simply can’t find myself caring when, as I said, I miss you.”

She hummed, hands now resting on your biceps in an attempt to find some balance. “You’re aware, but you don’t care? How charming… Well, perhaps, you should rethink that stance, for your own sake.”

Always the playful one, her lips remained locked on that little smirk you couldn’t stop yourself from finally savoring after such a long time apart. Once more, you caught her utterly unprepared with your sudden kiss, one she would’ve pulled away from if only it weren’t yours. She caught onto all the feelings you poured into it the instant the shock washed away and she allowed herself to flutter her eyes shut—longing, desire, and pure appreciation.

How sweet.

Needless to say, the sight was one that seemed to have been plucked out of one of those sapphic novels Miko often read thanks to you. Pink petals surrounding you due to the soft breeze of the island, the gorgeous sunset highlighting both of your features, and the meeting of lips from two lovers too lost in the moment to remember this was a public setting.

She always allowed you to explore her mouth as much as you wished since she knew just how much you enjoyed it. It was so obvious you needed this from the way your fingertips sunk into the fabric of her obi so she wouldn’t escape from your affections.

She would never.

You were just so, so rushed to feed her your unwavering love with a silver spoon you wouldn’t have even noticed if the shrine maidens were around. You had mindlessly busied yourself with making up a dance with your tongues right after you had licked her lower lip to ask for permission.

It was maddening to withdraw from her at long last, though absolutely necessary. She couldn’t have you running out of breath just from a mere kiss, could she?

“Hm,” she swallowed hard as she took a good look at you, her lips and yours now swollen and glistening with saliva, “Alright… alright. I suppose I can indulge you, just this once. Don’t let it go to your head.”

You could tell she wanted it as badly as you did from the way her eyes were half-lidded and there was a hint of blushing on her cheeks. She could always deny it, but her body betrayed her each time, and it was truly adorable.

Your reaction was quick to the compliance of the kitsune—you twined your fingers with hers just to feel the heat radiating from her body as you pulled the both of you into the inside of the Shrine. You could have easily proven to her how much her absence had been weighing on you right there and then, beneath the Sacred Sakura, but you knew it wouldn’t be to her liking for your intimacy to be so public.

The walk towards her quarters was silent, awfully so. She followed close behind with that wicked grin upon her features as she watched the way your fingertips were digging into the smooth skin of her hand. You were holding back only by a thread, and she began to find your desperation strangely enticing.

After the agonizing moment of tension, Miko’s steps came to a halt against the tatami flooring once inside her personal area. You had been there quite a few times before, but never so late in the day for a reason as superficial as this.

She poured all her focus on how you slid the fusuma shut, though her gaze lingered on the way your clothing draped your figure so gently. It was mouthwatering, in fact—she wanted to sink her teeth and claws into your warm body already. It was difficult to resist, but she managed.

Her composure wavered ever so slightly seconds later, however. This time, she was anticipatory of your actions, though still affected by them. She could see the determination in your strides as your hands rose to cup her jaws and pull her in for a new searing kiss, and the poor woman had to take a couple of steps back from how forceful your grasp was.

Verbal communication wasn't needed there and then. The only sound echoing through the shoji panels were that of the sloppy clicking of your tongues, and it unconsciously filled her belly with a bubbling heat. You were oh so messy it made her tingle.

You forced the Head Priestess to stumble backwards unpremeditatedly, already knowing where that expensive futon of hers lay in the room. Of course, you helped her down on it with gentleness and care, though the contrast of your rough kissing made her realize you would be everything but lenient with her.

She wasn’t the type to surrender so easily to someone—you were that one exception.

You immediately found yourself pressing your moist lips against her neck to savor the soft texture of it, hands working on releasing her of her garments with practiced ease as you relished the jagged breaths she let out.

“So… primitive,” you heard above your head the instant you finally rid her of her robe, which would be situated beneath her at all times until you were done with her. You truly didn’t feel like throwing it away carelessly—it would make the scene less sensual, you thought.

The only vexing piece of fabric that separated you from her fully exposed form was that of her soaked undergarments, which clung to her pretty pussy like a second skin. Your gaze traveled downward to scan this image she provided you in such a selfless manner, and it was so delicious to witness that you contemplated the idea of eating her out over the white material.

Never mind that—you wanted full contact. That barrier would only make it worse.

You had fully ignored her previous comment to wrap eager fingers around the hem of her underwear, thanking Celestia above she never wore a brassiere. Her tits were on thorough display just for you, and you could see the way in which her pink nipples perked up when her hips rose to give you leeway to undress her.

It was almost frustrating how beguiling she was.

“You are enjoying this far too much, aren’t you?” She started, her tone as frolicsome as it was soft, “I suppose I should let you have your fun, hm?”

She expected an answer with the corners of her plump lips lifted slightly upwards, though you managed to catch her off-guard again. She didn’t understand how you managed to do that every time, but it was refreshing and new to her.

The moment you tasted her, that smile of hers dropped to introduce an expression you were familiar with: arched eyebrows and mouth agape as her breath caught in her throat. Where was that playfulness now? She seemed at a loss for words.

Your eyes could’ve rolled to the back of head at the mere feeling of those tangy, slick folds on your tastebuds. Never had you savoured something as delicious as her drenched cunt, and it drove you wild each time.

You made sure to hook your arms around her thighs to keep her close, meeting her gaze throughout the entirety of your favorite meal while her rosy cheeks gave you a sense of pleasure rushing through your body. You loved to see the way her hands grasped her own breasts to massage them while your tongue searched for new sensitive spots on the area you had previously explored several times.

Miko wasn’t a moaner, but rather a woman who would huff, puff, and whimper gracefully at every jolt of pleasure she felt thanks to you. She would attempt be even quieter this time due to how the thin walls of her quarters could easily allow the maidens to hear just how, with no effort, you could make her experience divinity with your lips.

“My…,” the syllable dragged on quietly for an instant, only because she had to silence herself by catching her own lower lip between her teeth. The sight of you amidst her legs was one she could admire for eternity.

You found that delectable bundle of nerves with your flattened tongue after taking your sweet time, something that made her fuzzy ears twitch upwards at the feeling and a gasp escape her unconsciously. Her face contorted while you slurped her juices and sucked on her sopping pussy, which began to clench around nothing as her head tipped back. Her reactions were always so elegant despite the unrefined nature of the situation.

You were aware of the fact that she was in need of more contact—more satisfaction. Who were you to deny her of this?

To her delightful surprise, one of your digits made its way inside her, and this combined with the way you were eating her out, the lewd noises from your mouth, and the heartbeat she could already feel on her cunt, it had been just a matter of time before she allowed herself to moan.

You adored those sounds. They were just as precious as her.

Her walls quickly throbbed around your finger, the intensity of it growing the moment you added a new one and pressed the tips against that spongey little spot on her core. You were driving her insane with each flick of your tongue and the latest movements of your hand.

It was borderline torturous. You suckled her pussy so disgustingly well while your fingers forced that feeling of release to grow in her lower stomach to the point of her legs already spasming. She was so flustered as a thin layer of sweat coated her and made her look heavenly—way better than the evening sky right outside the building.

Her eyes rolled back the instant her vision was blurred by a white flash, and she could swear she saw stars once her orgasm washed over her. All you observed was the way Miko’s back arched, her eyes glowing pink before disappearing behind her eyelids as her long claws buried into the soft flesh of her overly abused breasts.

Maybe your newest idea would make the moment more overwhelming for her, though you didn’t seem to mind it much—you wanted to worship her thoroughly, no matter the consequences.

Your digits continued to pump in and out of her sensitive cunt, tongue savoring each drop of her saline nectar as you exploited her poor, swollen clit. Of course, this drew a mewl from her; she was trying her hardest to come down from her high and you just kept her riding it like it was nothing.

“Darling!” She moaned out, glowy eyes meeting your hungry ones as her features still held that lovely fucked-out expression that made you even wetter than she was.

Her legs continued to quiver around your head while your nose nudged her mound with each soft shake of your crown, and she knew you didn’t plan to pull away until you gave her a louder climax to quench your thirst. Insufferable even at a time like this.

Naturally, one of her hands abandoned her tits to grasp your hair and try to make you calm down, but the sudden, electrifying sensation traveling up her spine forced her to shudder and whimper. Tears were starting to prickle her eyes now, the feeling of vulnerability overly new, though not unwelcome.

She was dripping wet, so much so your fingers were having a hard time keeping themselves inside her—of course you added a new one to continue overstimulating her delicious core.

Oh, she was gone.

Her soft cry was so obscene you would have found your own release from it if only you weren’t so busy helping the woman reach hers. All she could think about at this point was how good you were, how dirty but determined you could be just for her.

Her digits twined with the messy locks of your hair, drawing you impossibly closer to her swollen cunt to almost use you to climax once again. And once she did, her grasp grew stronger and her thighs squeezed your head so firmly you wouldn’t have minded having her asphyxiate you right there and then. It would be the perfect way to go, wouldn’t it?

She moaned in a way you hadn’t heard before—fascinating. It was such a smutty and loud sound everyone in the entire nation could’ve heard her if only they paid enough attention.

Once her hips had stopped their twitchy motions, Miko’s ragged breaths filled the room while your damp lips pressed soft kisses on her inner thighs to soothe her as best as you could.

“Well done,” was all you said as you held her legs in place to rise from your spot and meet her lips with yours. The aftertaste of her orgasm was delicious, you simply wished to share it with her.

She hummed at this, finding it amusing through the haze she felt. She enjoyed the praise, though quietly, of course.

“Hm…,” it took her some time to find her voice as her trembling hand traveled up to brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Sweetling… do you ever stop to think about how fortunate you are to have me by your side? Only I coddle you this way.”

You seemed to have stolen her playfulness by the way you wickedly smiled at her words, holding her sides gently as your thumb rubbed mindless patterns against her boiling hot skin. “Yes. I think about it every night and day, Miko.”

You weren’t lying. This sweet kitsune of yours was the only thing that flooded your brain constantly—and she would only continue to do so after this glorious encounter.

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

Son of The Great Santini

Featuring Bestselling Author, Pat Conroy

In the summer of 1995, famed Southern author, Pat Conroy sat hunched over his desk in his Charleston home, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the keys of his old typewriter. A half-finished manuscript of Beach Music lay in front of him, the pages filled with ideas and fragments of stories that seemed to spill out of him like waves crashing onto the shore. The novel was demanding, as his works always were, and the weight of the characters, the setting, and the complex histories he wove together was both exhilarating and exhausting.

At 54 years old, Pat had earned his place as one of the most prominent writers of his generation. His deep, soulful eyes and rugged face, marked by years of lived experience, spoke of a man who had spent much of his life in search of meaning. His once unruly dark hair, now gray, fell loosely over his forehead gave him the air of a man perpetually lost in thought.

But today, despite his focus on the manuscript, Pat felt the weight of the work more than usual. Beach Music was proving to be a challenge. It required a depth of research. Research that Pat had come to dread. He was a writer, not a historian, and yet, to fully capture the post-Vietnam era in America and the particular tensions in Charleston, South Carolina, he needed someone who could help him dig into the specifics.

That’s when he decided it was time to ask for help. But who? Stepping out for a break, Pat noticed his neighbor, a 24-year-old named Will, lived two doors down from Pat's house, jog past in a faded T-shirt and shorts. He hadn’t run for exercise in years, but Will seemed to carry the energy of youth in every stride. Will had always struck Pat as an interesting young man—bright-eyed, with a sharp wit and a hunger for knowledge. Will was tall, athletic, with sandy brown hair that seemed perpetually windblown, as if he'd just stepped off a surfboard, and he had a smile that seemed to light up the room. Though he was still finding his way in the world, Will had an easy confidence about him that Pat admired.

“Will!” Pat called, stepping out onto the porch. Will slowed his pace and jogged up the steps.

“Mr. Conroy,” Will said with a grin, wiping sweat from his brow. “How’s the book coming?”

Pat hesitated before answering. The truth was, he had been struggling. “It’s… coming. Slowly. Listen, I’m in need of some help, actually. Would you be interested in working as a research assistant for a while?”

Will raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Research assistant? For your book?”

Pat nodded, his expression serious. “Yeah. a lot of it’s in my head, but I need someone to help me organize the details.”

Will considered the offer for a moment, wiping the sweat from his face. “I’ve got some free time. I’d love to help, Mr. Conroy. What do I need to do?”

Pat chuckled. “Call me Pat. Let’s get to work.”

For the next several weeks, Will spent hours in Pat’s home, surrounded by towering piles of books, old Charleston photographs, and historical archives. Pat would often look up from his desk, his eyes slightly bleary from hours of writing, to find Will poring over a stack of documents, catching the young man starring. Will was lustfully checking out the mound in Pat's pants. From what he could make out Pat had an above average size cock and big balls. Pat began to spread his legs a little farther apart as if to give the young man a better view, but never said anything. Later that evening Will went home and jacked off thinking about his hairy balls.

Weeks later, on one particularly humid evening, with the sound of cicadas buzzing in the background, Pat and Will sat on his cozy back porch having a nice conversation, looking out over Battery Creek and the autumn-gilded marsh. After we each had two glasses of wine, the mood started to turn sexual. Just then Pat leaned back in his chair, spread his legs and absently stroked his belly.

The sight of this white haired man leaning back in his seat as if he wanted Will to crawl on top of him, got the young man so aroused that he haphazardly said to Pat, "You look sexy."

What he did next shocked Will. He kissed him. A twice married father and step-father of six, kissed him. After seeing how receptive Will was, Pat grabbed him and pulled him closer to him and they began to kiss frantically. Will's hands quickly roamed Pat's body, feeling at his sides and chest, running my hands under his shirt to feel his chest. Pat's big hands were eager too, roaming Will's muscled torso, rolling down the incline of his abs to the mound in my jeans. Tearing himself away from the husky, hunky next door neighbor and gulping air into his lungs.

'I want you.' Will growled as he started lifting up Pat's shirt.

He clucked approvingly as he caught sight of his big chest with the large red nipples as his mouth instantly fastened to it. This was a first for Pat; in all the sex play he had with his wives, somehow they had never gotten around to sucking his nipples. He sighed as Will sucked his very sensitive and erect nipples all the while running his fingers through his hair.

Will kissed his lips across his chest, inhaling the magical scent of a daddy still in his prime. He had Pat take the shirt off completely as Will's cock grew harder and harder. It rubbed up against Pat's belly and the older man liked what he felt. His hands closed around Will's tight little ass and massaged the cheeks. Then he slipped his hands under the young stud's shorts and underneath his underpants, feeling his silky smooth cheeks. Will got up and shed his clothes. His slim eight incher boner jumped free and pointed up at his navel.

'Damn, that's a mighty fine cock you have there.' Pat said as he reached out for it.

He stroked the slender cock, watching the head disappear and reappear with each stroke. It was just the perfect size for his hand, mouth and ass. Pat pulled the young stallion towards him and took the beautiful cock into his mouth. Swallowing half of his dick, Pat began bobbing his head up and down Will's shaft as his nuts bounced invitingly against Pat's chin. All the while, out there on the back porch.

Suddenly as if realising for the first time where they were, Pat pulled away from his cock and stood up.

"Fuck, you feel good," Pat rasped into Will's ear, followed by a flick of his tongue, making him shudder. "Lenore is asleep already. She took an aspirin with a sleep aid, she won't wake up till morning."

With their cocks dripping in anticipation, Pat took Will by the hand and led him into the nearby spare bedroom where they began to strip. Will whistled in delight when he saw his soon to be lover exposed at last. Pat's portly body was like a work of art: broad shoulders, beefy, ass, and ample belly. And hanging below, a thick circumcised cock with a pair of oversized fuzzy brown balls. Will kneeled and pressed his face into Pat's big thatch of pubes.

The sweet smell of Pat's crotch was utterly intoxicating to Will and he couldn't stop himself from sucking him. Will ran his tongue all over the cock head before putting his mouth over it and began to suck this old author off. Pat hadn't received many blowjobs and Will could tell it really turned him on to have him pumping up and down on his dick. Suddenly Pat the young man by the head as he began to spasm and groan like a wild animal, firing his load down Will's throat. And like that, he had finished him off.

Sensing Will's need to fuck him, Pat quickly got on all fours on the bed, turning his pale, beefy ass him and smiled as he said, "come and get it."

Presented with this view, Will pushed his mouth down to Pat's asshole and started running his moist tongue back and forth against his virgin asshole. When the young man pushed his tongue inside of him. This drove Pat wild and he pushed his ass back farther on Will's probing tongue, moaning loudly. After several minutes, Pat was begging for the young man 7-incher.

Complying, Will spit in his hand, grabbed his cock and slicked it up as best he could. Will thought he was going to shoot off before he could get his cock into the portly author. Rearing his head back, Pat said, "go slow" as Will started to touch the rim of his hot wet ass hole.

"It hurts." The old man said in a choking, husky voice as his tight ass began to open. Will pushed his cock in all the way in Pat's love hole.

His ass was so tight and wonderful Will didn't want to pull back, he just started to gyrate his hips to giving this married man the full sensation of being fucked. Surprisingly, Pat began to rock up and then slammed his butt back onto the young man's dick, pushing his hungry hole farther on to it. The slapping of thighs echoed throughout the room as Will began to wildly fuck his hot ass.

Wanting to see the look on Pat's face while fucking him, Will put him on his back the way he would have fucked his wife, missionary style. With their eyes locked on each other, Pat raises his beefy legs, spreading them wide apart, giving Will full access to his butt as he whispers "give it to me." His love hole didn't resist as much this time as Will buried himself deep in this handsome man. Then he was planting kissing on his cheeks, forehead and all over his face as he slowly continued fucking him. Pat moaned pleasurably as his entire rectum became slippery and no longer resisted the young man's thrusts.

After a few minutes, both men were moaning as it felt so good that neither of them wanted it to end. By now, the wetness of Pat's tight hole was making a suction sound which only helped to intensify the sensation. I tried not to cum too quickly and yet I was really enjoying the sensation of his virgin ass squeezing my dick. And Pat knew from the look on his face that he was getting close and said, "Fuck me hard Will, I need it."

Will doubled his effort and pounded Pats butt even harder, gyrating his hips to give him the full effect of his cock rimming him out. He kept fucking until finally he couldn't hold it any more and drove his cock deep down inside Pat and I let go of his load, spasming three or four times. The exhausted young man stayed on top of Pat for a while until I had enough energy to roll off, in utter bliss, still replaying the entire scene in their minds.

[dodgerkedavra]

Go Up to Gilead [H/D Erised 2024]

The Aurors are Harry’s whole world—right up until he carries Draco Malfoy out of Azkaban in his arms.

Harry can’t keep both, so he’s got to choose: forfeit the world, or forfeit his soul?

Word Count: ~106k

Rating: Explicit

Go Up to Gilead on AO3

Malfoy doesn’t move as Harry gets closer. Only his eyes follow Harry’s crouch-shuffle. Harry wedges himself into the corner next to Malfoy and slides his hand behind Malfoy’s back. There’s almost nothing to him. The striped grey-on-grey rags hang off skin and bone with so much fabric to spare that Harry’s knuckles don’t touch the wall. Harry repeats this process with his other arm, easing his hand under Malfoy’s knees. Makes his chest hurt and his eyes burn to feel the spindly, fucked-up joints hanging over his arm, and when he’s done, their faces are only a few inches apart. Malfoy’s eyes swim with tears. The silver-grey colour stands out, bright and feverish. “Malfoy,” Harry says, his heart sore and stinging. “Draco—” “Not Dementors,” Malfoy whispers. “Please.”

Tags and author's note under the cut ->

I really was on my phone at the moment I received my Erised match, and I really did lift my eyes from my screen and stare into the distance. It's 100% true that I thought about royally fucking up the blending portion of a soup recipe.

The parts I left out of my note on the fic: I was sitting on my front porch on that day in July because that's all I could do last summer. I kept hoping I would feel better and kept not feeling better. I'm pretty sure it was sometime in August that I looked up at my husband from where I had been napping (AKA lying in bed staring at nothing) all afternoon and said this is all I have left.

It sounded dramatic, but felt like nothing.

I had thought my increasing indifference to stuff like deadlines and paying bills was a good sign. By the time I realized it wasn't, it was like pinching the last smidgen of a balloon string between my fingers. In addition to my invisible balloon, I was also clinging to my daily walk around my neighborhood, and I just sort of understood that if I let go of them, that was it.

The invisible balloon was writing. It was (Drarry) fics. But it was also the idea of gifts, and making them, and giving them. And it was, like, profoundly important to me to maintain that practice, even when it made objectively no sense.

It's always been true that lots of things aren't clear to me before I write about them, and sometimes while I'm writing about them, but it's very clear in retrospect that I spent last year desperately trying to get a message across to myself at my bleakest, lowest point. Some part of me must have known, I guess.

Anyway, it was an honor to write for @tessacrowley and to be part of H/D Erised. I love gift exchanges and especially Erised. It's a rare experience to get to hold someone's wishes in your hands and know that someone out there is holding yours. It reminds me to hold things gently. Myself, also.

Thanks to the mods for a wonderful fest, to @vukovich for letting me talk about the Bible in the middle of the night, to @itsphantasmagoria for leaving at least 100 screaming comments, and to all my friends and betas for their thoughtful feedback and support with a special shout-out to @kamaela, @its-the-allure, and @phoenixortheflame. I am very sorry if you deserve a special shout-out and I forgot you! Pretty much all my remaining brain cells went to this story. It was worth it, though.

Read Go Up to Gilead on AO3

TAGS: Auror Harry Potter, Auror Pansy Parkinson, Healer Ron Weasley, Auror Theodore Nott, Auror Justin Finch-Fletchley, Curse Breaking, Curse Breaker Seamus Finnigan, Healer Dean Thomas, Unspeakable Blaise Zabini, Unspeakable Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy in Azkaban, Prison, Blood and Injury, Broken Bones, Torture, Aftermath of Torture, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con. Past Rape/Non-con, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Caning, Hallucinations, Mental Instability, Mental Anguish, Post-Prison, St Mungo's Hospital (Harry Potter), Healing, Injury Recovery, Caretaking, Bathing/Washing, Sentient Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Gryffindor/Slytherin Inter-House Relationships, Dark Magic, Magical Theory (Harry Potter), Avada Kedavra | Killing Curse (Harry Potter), After Effects of Crucio | Cruciatus Curse (Harry Potter), Unforgivable Curses (Harry Potter), Masturbation in Shower, Anal Sex, First Time Bottoming, Magical Cock Ring, Vomiting, Chronic Pain, Chronic Illness, Weddings, Hogwarts Castle, Hogwarts Forbidden Forest, Self-Hatred, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, POV Harry Potter, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Third Person, POV Alternating, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Hand Feeding, Dreams and Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Panic Attacks, Imprisonment, Godric's Hollow (Harry Potter), Crying, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Consent, Kissing, Orgasm, Frottage, Gentle Sex, Children of Characters, Despair, Hope, Touch-Starved, Forehead Touching, Hair Braiding, Hair Washing, Weasley Jumpers, Expecto Patronum | Patronus Charm (Harry Potter), self-harm, revenge, vertigo, starvation

[uceyliyahh]

NOVACANE

Summary: After dealing with a traumatic event in Desiree's past life she decided to keep her heart closed off and didn't have any desire to love again until she met him.

smut warning; it’ll come in the story randomly so PLEASE, PLEASE look out for it I’m not really good at writing ✍🏽 smuts but I’m improving at the moment.

word count: 6513

Jey Uso x Desiree

AWFUL GRAMMAR IM GETTING BETTER I SWEAR LOL.

comments, likes, repost are appreciated I would love the constructive feedback in what area I need to approve in. 🤍

ALSO! I don’t not want nobody stealing my fanfics or take it as theirs that will be an issue fasho so keep it cute respectfully.

I only own my OC along with the make up scenarios

But I’ll be writing along the way since this story is in my drafts on Wattpad right now so yuh. 💁🏽‍♀️

TAGS ⬇️ lmk if you wanna be tag 🏷️@pinkwithhearts @420days @jstarr86 @empressdede @angiedawn02 @biancasreign

@bebesobrielo @skyesthebomb @aikosilo @papireigns-05 @punksyeet @paigereeder @magnificentbouquetmusic

@hunnidmilly @celesteheartsjey @charmed-dreamssss @fearlesschimera @partypoison00 @mselenalovebug @bloodlinesbabe93 @luvrsluxe @4milly @xbriexx @trippinsorrows @yyaktayak

Ø3

"I love you and only you,"

"I'm not like him, I am way more different from him,"

"Imma take care of you princess,"

"You Belong to me,"

OMNISCIENT Desiree found herself longing for Jey more and more each day as he traveled the globe for his wrestling tour. With every new experience he shared, she couldn't help but wish she were by his side, exploring the world together.

He would reach out to her through calls, texts, and even share pictures, and she reciprocated in kind. Desiree found herself reflecting deeply on their conversation from the other night when he visited her.

'I'm committed to staying by your side, ready to offer you the reassurance and love you truly deserve, if you allow me to.' This thought echoed in her mind, a reminder of his desire to love her in the way she needed after all she had been through. She found herself uncertain about whether she was prepared for that level of commitment because of her past experiences. However, Jey proves to her daily that he is not like Jayden; he is truly different.

At the workplace, the dynamics have shifted significantly. Ke'Liyah consistently shot disdainful looks at Desiree, spreading rumors that labeled her as desperate and promiscuous for her inability to maintain a relationship. However, Desiree remained unfazed by the negativity. She confidently asserted herself, ensuring that everyone knew she wouldn't tolerate such disrespect.

It was beyond her control that a striking Samoan man like him fell for her the moment he stepped through that door. When Bianca called, she shared every detail of the whirlwind of emotions and events that had unfolded since they left the house.

Bianca felt a surge of joy for her best friend and offered to fly her out to one of their house shows, ensuring she could spend time with Jey.

OTP Binky💗: girrrl you're goin to see me kick some ass out there! Desi🫶🏽: yeah I can't wait either I would always watch it on TV but not in person Binky💗: I know you wanna see yo' man Desi🫶🏽: he's not my man B Binky💗: girl that man loves you why don't you give him a chance? Desi🫶🏽: because I don't wanna just jump into a whole new relationship you know? After dealing with...Jayden Binky💗: I understand honey, but don't scare him off he seems genuine like I know the twins for a while now sis Desi🫶🏽: I hear you B, I hear you

Desiree took the time to meticulously pack all her belongings and ensure everything was in order before calling an Uber to the airport, guaranteeing that she wouldn't miss her flight.

Binky💗: you like Tennessee so far? Desi🫶🏽: yes I do honestly they have some good food and places down here to shop Binky💗: I agree Desi you got a Uber to the airport? Desi🫶🏽: yes and I'll be there Binky💗: text me when you arrive okay? Desi🫶🏽: kk

CALLED ENDED

Desiree noticed that her Uber driver was just two minutes away as she made her way downstairs with her small suitcase in tow. Despite the rain, she was grateful to have her hoodie on hand for such weather.

Jey was completely unaware that she was planning to surprise him, an act that was out of character for her. It was as if he was bringing out a side of her that she had long kept hidden from the world, allowing her to embrace her true self in a way she never thought possible.

Well except her best friend of course

For him, everything felt different; she would never make the effort to see a man she missed. As she arrived at the airport, she picked up her luggage and made her way inside the terminal to board her flight.

She informed Bianca that she had arrived at the airport and was just about to pick up her ticket for the flight to Cali, where they would be attending Monday Night Raw later tonight.

As she strolled toward the gate where the plane awaited, she settled onto a nearby seat, her book bag slung comfortably over her shoulder. Pulling out her iPad, she immersed herself in creating designs for her tattoos, a perfect way to pass the time before her flight.

Desiree embarked on her first day as a tattoo artist at the shop, and the customers were immediately drawn to her unique designs, particularly her Samoan artwork. Her deep admiration for Samoan culture shines through in her creations, which is why she felt such a strong connection to Jey's body art, appreciating the stories and meanings behind each piece.

She would never consider doing this for Jayden, especially since they are no longer together. Despite receiving threatening messages from unknown numbers, she consciously decides to ignore them.

"Flight B12 will be boarding now flight b12 will be boarding now from Tennessee to California,"

Desiree quickly gathered her belongings as she stood in line to board the plane. After her ticket was scanned, she made her way inside, relieved to find that her seat was unoccupied. This fortunate arrangement allowed her to enjoy her journey without any interruptions.

As she settled into her seat, she tucked her book bag between her legs. The familiar buzz of her phone in her pocket caught her attention. When she pulled it out, a smile spread across her face as she noticed a text from Jey.

IMESSAGE 💬 Joshua💵: hey mama Desiree🦋: hey Joshua💵: what you doing? Desiree🦋: I'm just busy on my iPad rn hbu? Joshua💵: in my locker room, thinking about you I miss you Desiree🦋: if I'm being honest I miss you too, I never missed someone this much Joshua💵: you'll get to see me soon mama Desiree🦋: I hope so Joshua💵: we can handle long distance together imma prove myself to you everyday Desiree🦋: okay but I gotta go I'll ttyl Joshua💵: aight mamas

Desiree activated airplane mode on her phone just as the plane prepared for takeoff. She slipped on her wireless headphones, selected her favorite tunes, and reclined her head against the seat, allowing her eyes to gently close.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ Desiree booked a nearby hotel and informed Bianca of her arrival, mentioning that she was on her way to the arena to see them. Understandably, she felt a wave of nerves; this was her first time attempting such a surprise for Jey.

It hasn't been long since they last met, so why wouldn't she take this opportunity? Dressed in a stylish black crop-top and relaxed baggy jeans, along with her favorite slides, Desiree glanced in the mirror and admired her reflection. She felt confident and ready for the night ahead, applying a touch of lip gloss and rubbing her lips together to achieve that perfect "pop" effect.

biancabelairwwe replied to your story: Can't wait to see you girly uceyjucey replied to your story: where you goin mama? y2kjayden replied to your story: man you're such a whore where you heading to now? I think in I'm that area ke'liyah replied to your story: finna go steal someone else's man?

Desiree simply rolled her eyes at the responses from Jayden and Ke'Liyah. She refused to let their negativity affect her. Taking a final glance in the mirror, she then checked her phone and noticed that her Uber driver was in route.

She had never felt more confident for a man she had just met, even though he was encouraging her to embrace her true self. Just as she was about to leave, her phone buzzed with a notification that the Uber driver had arrived. With a quick grab of her purse and house keys, she stepped out the door, ready for the adventure ahead.

Desiree climbed into the Uber driver's car, ready for the ride to the arena.

Desiree arrived at the arena, her excitement palpable as she noticed the lengthy line stretching ahead of her. Grateful, she thanked the driver before stepping out of the car. As she approached the building, her eyes were drawn to the vibrant array of merchandise and championship belts displayed all around her.

She aimed to find something that symbolized Bianca and Jey, so she chose to purchase their shirts as a way to show her support. After acquiring the shirts, she joined the line to have her ticket scanned.

She navigated the security line and quickly sent a text to Bianca, letting her know she had arrived.

IMESSAGE 💬 Desi🫶🏽: hey I'm here Binky💗: hey! I'll come get you, you ready to see me and your man whoop some asses tonight? Desi🫶🏽: one last time B he isn't my man Binky💗: if he wasn't then you wouldn't be here right? see he's getting you out of your shell Desi Desi🫶🏽: whatever you say I'm just here to support you Binky💗: you're in such denial about him 😭😭 Desi🫶🏽: I'm not in denial Bianca 🙄 Binky💗: you say that now and then the next you'll be all over him I know you Desiree Desi🫶🏽: what the fuck ever Bianca let's stop talking about him and come get me 😒 Binky💗: aight aight calm down I'm down the hallway you should see me waving my hand at you Desi🫶🏽: kk

Desiree scanned the room and spotted Bianca, who was enthusiastically waving and beaming with joy. With a warm smile, Desiree made her way over and enveloped Bianca in a heartfelt embrace.

"Finally I get to see you, you know it's so boring at home," Desiree said.

"Hey, I'll be home after this tour, maybe Jey will be home too," she teased as Desiree nudge her in her arm.

"What??? I'm just saying,"

Desiree sighed dramatically as they strolled backstage toward her locker room. Along the way, she noticed numerous wrestlers preparing for their matches or chatting with friends, creating a lively atmosphere that buzzed with excitement.

As her gaze swept the room, she searched for Jey, longing to see him, to embrace him, to kiss him—she missed him deeply. Bianca observed that Desiree's attention was drifting away from their conversation, her eyes scanning the surroundings instead.

Bianca knew that Desiree had falling for Jey but didn't want to admit it due to her past, "If you're looking for Jey his locker room is down the hallway," what Bianca said had caught Desiree off guard blinking her eyes a few times before she could process what Bianca just said.

"What?" Desiree said.

"I said if you're looking for Jey his locker room is down the hallway." she repeated.

Desiree shook her head, "I'm not looking for him, let's go to your locker room B," Bianca chuckled at her as they went towards her locker room.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

DESIREE I found myself in Bianca's locker room, captivated by the intense match unfolding between Jimmy Uso and Solo. The two competitors bore a striking resemblance, almost as if they were brothers or closely related to Jey. As I watched, Jimmy delivered a stunning superkick right to Solo's face while he clung to the ropes. The impact was electrifying, and moments later, Jimmy unleashed another superkick, sending Solo tumbling over the ropes in a dramatic fashion.

The match turned out to be quite captivating, and I couldn't help but wonder if I would spot him in the crowd tonight. As I watched the action unfold, I noticed a figure in a black hoodie attacking Jimmy, delivering punches and kicks. It was a shocking moment that added an unexpected twist to the event.

I sensed that something was about to unfold as I watched them surround Jimmy, the sound of his music echoing in the background. Suddenly, there he was, emerging from the gorilla, charging into the ring to assist Jimmy.

I was completely captivated by his remarkable looks and graceful agility in the ring; it was hard to believe that this was his career. After unleashing a flurry of devastating super kicks to their faces, they all hurriedly exited the ring, doubled over in agony.

As the show transitioned to a commercial break, an overwhelming desire to visit him surged within me. Yet, I couldn't shake the thought that he might be preoccupied with other matters. Just then, the door creaked open, and in stepped Bianca, her appearance a whirlwind of sweat and fluster.

"Damn girl, who you been fighting?" I said.

"Miss Tiffany and Nia girl, they're so annoying," she said.

"I believe I spotted Jey heading into his locker room; it might be a great idea for you to go surprise him." But then again, how could she know what I was thinking? A wave of anxiety washed over me as I wrestled with my doubts. 'What if he doesn't want to see me?' 'What if there's someone else with him?' My mind was racing with all these unsettling thoughts, and Bianca seemed to pick up on my unease.

"Desi, enough with the overthinking! Just go see him," I said with a sigh, grabbing my purse and phone as I made my way to his locker room.

While making my way to his locker room, I unexpectedly collided with someone, landing squarely on my backside and gazing up at the individual.

"Oh my goodness I am so sorry, let me help you," Trinity said as she helped me up.

I brushed myself off and quickly offered my apologies for colliding with her. She smiled and reassured me it was no problem, but there was a spark of recognition in her eyes. "You're Desiree, aren't you? Bianca's best friend?" she inquired, and I confirmed with a nod.

"Yeah? And you are?"

"I'm Trinity, you the girl Jey has been raving about all week." It brought a smile to my face knowing he brags about me to his friends. We exchanged a handshake before diving into our conversation.

I mentioned to her that I was visiting Bianca and Him today to show my support before returning home for work, only to discover that she was Jey's sister-in-law.

She escorted me to his locker room and embraced me warmly, knowing she had an interview to attend shortly. Once Trinity departed, I knocked on his door, my heart racing with anticipation. I felt a mix of nerves and excitement at the thought of seeing him again after several months apart.

I could hear soft footsteps approaching the door, and as it swung open, I found myself staring up at him. Jey looked effortlessly amazing, his shirt absent and revealing his striking tribal tattoos. He wore black yeet sweats that perfectly complemented his laid-back style.

Including his Cuban link sliver chain over his neck, I could smell his cologne which smelt so good he had a smile appearing on his face before pulling me in for a hug.

"Mamas? What'chu doing here girl!" Jey exclaimed as he gave me a bear hug.

As he pulled me into his locker room and closed the door, I instinctively wrapped my arms and legs around him. He kissed my lips softly several times before gently setting me back on my feet, his hands firmly gripping my hips.

"Surprise, I came to see you," I said.

"You? Came to see me? That's new mama, I guess I am doing something right," he said as we began to chuckle.

I relaxed my shoulders, feeling a wave of relief wash over me as all my concerns and doubts about his happiness vanished in an instant. "So, where are you staying?"

"I'm staying at a hotel right now at the moment why?" I asked.

"Imma come see you so we could spend time with each other tonight if you're free," I truly missed him, and reconnecting would be the ideal way to make up for all the time we lost while being apart.

I felt a rush of excitement as his hands glided down to my backside, gripping me tightly and sending shivers through my body. With my arms wrapped around his neck, I gazed deeply into his eyes, overwhelmed by the thought, 'How can someone be so perfect? Perfect for someone as flawed as I am?' I leaned in even closer, and he mirrored my movement, our lips finally meeting in a soft, electrifying kiss.

As our lips danced together, I found myself surrendering to the warmth of his embrace. Deep down, I questioned whether I was truly in love with him, even if I was reluctant to acknowledge it. Jey's tongue playfully explored my mouth as he effortlessly lifted me by the thighs, carrying me to his couch.

He gently set me on the couch, positioning himself between my legs, our lips locked in an unbroken kiss.

"Fuck, I missed you so much baby," Jey muttered.

"I did too..." I muttered back, 'did I just say I missed this man?'

The kiss was messy and passionate, his tongue dancing in my mouth as I felt his arousal pressing against me. Jey broke the kiss, his gaze drifting down to the outfit I had chosen for the day.

"Damn, you look good mama, you did all this for me?" he asked.

I shot him an exasperated look, then playfully put my finger to my lips with a smile, "perhaps." Jey responded by kissing me again, this time moving to my neck, which made me let out a soft moan.

A grin blossomed on his face as he firmly yet gently held my throat, showering my neck with tender kisses. I surrendered to the moment, tilting my head back and allowing him to take control.

I whispered his name gently, hoping only he would catch the depth of my longing for him. 'Desi? Are you really letting him in?' 'Calm down,' I thought to myself, torn between the urge to push him away and the desire to keep him close.

His allure was so captivating that it felt like a powerful drug, one I couldn't break free from no matter how hard I tried. I gently traced my thumb along his cheeks, pressing my lips against his, as we lost ourselves in a rhythm that felt perfectly in tune.

As I arched my back in pleasure, I felt Jey lift up my shirt and latch onto my breast, swirling his tongue over my nipple. This man is going to kill me. "Oh my god, Josh, Fuck." As he sucked on my breast, I moaned.

"Shit, come use those pretty lips of yours mama," he pulled away from my breast as I was pulling down on his sweats seeing his dick ready to pop out from his boxers.

I pulled down his red PSD boxers down as his dick spring up hitting me in the face, I don't think it could fit down my throat even if I tried, I grabbed his shaft and began placing kisses on it while gazing up at him.

He was gazing down at me caressing my hair as I began swirling my tongue around his mushroom tip before going down on him, I heard nothing but moans escaping his lips.

Jey threw his head back in pleasure while gripping onto my hair while I felt his hips thrusting inside of my mouth.

I could feel the tip of his dick in the back of my throat causing me to gag on his dick, he pulled out while getting a hold of my chin.

"Take a deep breath baby, relax your throat for me," I nodded my head obeying his words as he kept a hold of my throat and began pushing his dick inside of my mouth.

I relaxed my throat while breathing through my nose taking his length inside of my throat, I moved his shaft up and down continuously swirling my tongue on his mushroom tip tasting all of the saltiness from it.

His groans were like music to my ears, "just like that baby doll, just like that," he groaned as he sped us his pace inside of my mouth.

I held onto his thighs hearing that popping effect going in and out from my mouth while he faced fucked me, this was something I never done before not even with Jayden he would always be picky about things like this.

I could feel him growing inside of my mouth as my tongue glides through his shaft while I was playing with his balls, which caught him off guard but seemed to enjoy it.

I could feel Jey's eyes gazing down at me while I looked up at him with my innocent ones, which caused him to smile at me.

"You so fucking pretty mamas, you gon' let me nut in that pretty mouth of yours?" he cooed as I nodded my head in response.

Jey rolled his eyes in the back of his head thrusting his hips deeper inside of my mouth while tears were flowing down my cheeks feeling snot coming down as well taking him all in.

Feeling his dick twitch inside of my mouth as he continued to thrust and thrust, it felt like I was going to pass out at the moment.

I heard him cursing underneath his breath, "fuck, I'm finna cum," he warned me.

After a few more strokes down my throat I felt his warm semen shoot out inside of my mouth while hearing a loud groan escaping from his lips as his seeds were spilling down my throat.

I swallowed it up tasting the saltiness of it before he pulled away from my mouth.

I could see his chest heaving up and down trying to catch his breath after having that orgasm, I got up from my knees grabbing me a napkin to wipe my mouth.

"Shit, I didn't know you had it like that girl," Jey said before wrapping his arms around my waist.

Desiree push him away now, what are you doing??

Why are you letting him get this close to you??

Jey kissed me on the cheek which caught me off guard as I turned my head looking at him through the mirror, we made eye contact with each other before giving a smile at one another.

"It's nothing special Joshua," I said as I threw the napkin away in the trash can.

"Mmcht, girl you trippin," all I could do was chuckle at him he was so perfect it wasn't fair that he wants to be with someone like me.

"I'm not," I sat down on the couch crossing my leg over while monitoring his movements.

While I was doing that I heard the door knocking as he went to go see who it was, I tried to peek my head from his shoulders to see who was he talking to.

But I just minded my business anyways watching the match on the TV screen before I heard him shutting the door.

That's when I heard him speak, "Hey, mama imma be back aight? Gotta go do this interview segment with my brother," Jey said as I nodded my head seeing him leaving the door.

I noticed that he had left his phone with him my curiosity was getting the best of me and wanted to look through his phone making sure that he wasn't hiding anything or playing in my face.

But I hesitated to get it due to what happened when I looked through Jayden's phone seeing all of those woman that he was texting behind my back.

Go through his phone Desiree

Do it

I grabbed his phone noticing that his phone had a passcode on it, 'damn it,' that's all I could think about I couldn't get into his phone.

Would he even let me look through his phone if I asked?

I placed his phone back to where it was while keeping myself occupied.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ I returned to my hotel room after spending some time at the arena catching up with Bianca. I truly missed my best friend and can't wait for her to come home after the tour. In the meantime, I was enjoying a delicious meal I ordered from the hotel menu when I suddenly felt my phone vibrate.

Upon picking it up, I noticed a message from Jey, and a smile spread across my face as I replied to him.

IMESSAGE 💬 Joshua💵: mama wya? Desiree🦋: I'm in my hotel room Joshua💵: lemme' come slide through Desiree🦋: Joshua... Joshua💵: what? C'mon mama I'm tryna see you before you leave Desiree🦋: we seen each other Josh Joshua💵: so? Why do you keep doing this baby?

God I love it when he calls me baby

Desiree🦋: because I don't understand what do you see in me Joshua💵: let me see, you're beautiful, talented, caring, soft spoken, loyal, do I need to add some more? Desiree🦋: nah you good Joshua💵: then what's the word?

Fuck, fuck, fuck, what am I going to say?

Desiree🦋: what are we going to do if you come over? Joshua💵: you know mama, I'm tryna spend some time with you girl Desiree🦋: alright I'll send you my hotel room number Joshua💵: bett see you in a little bit

Shit Desiree you gotta put on something cute for him

Wait don't do that you look good enough in your baggy sweats and tank top

I glanced into the mirror, checking that my hair was just right for his arrival. With him coming over, I couldn't help but wonder about his intentions for the evening. Was it just a casual encounter, or did he have something more in mind?

As I made my way back to bed, I switched off the lights in the room, leaving only the bathroom light on for safety. I picked up my iPad and started creating fresh tattoo designs for my clients, eager to showcase my work when I return home.

While creating tattoo designs, I found myself imagining how they would appear on Jey. The thought of inking him crossed my mind, but I doubt he would actually allow it.

I was engrossed in drawing on my iPad, as I often do, while a show played in the background on the TV. However, my thoughts kept drifting, particularly fixated on the idea of going through his phone.

I have to find out what's inside so I don't come off as foolish for someone who doesn't want me. Perhaps I could quietly access it while he's asleep by using his Face ID.

Or you could just ask Desiree I'm sure he'll give it to you without hesitation

As I was lost in my thoughts, a knock at the door jolted me from my bed. I quickly got up and pulled back the curtains, revealing Jey's car parked in the lot outside.

Damn he came here fast

As I glanced through the peephole, I spotted him standing there, hands tucked casually in his pockets. I swung the door open, and the moment our eyes met, a smile blossomed on his face.

Jey's gaze swept over my body, taking in every detail from head to toe. As I welcomed him into my hotel room and closed the door, I stood with my arms crossed, observing his every move. He always manages to look incredibly attractive whenever he approaches me.

He sat down on my bed waiting for me to come near him before speaking, "You just gonna stand there or bring yo' cute ass over here?" he said as I slowly walked over towards him getting between his legs.

I sensed his hand reaching for my waist, drawing me onto his lap and compelling me to turn and face him, his grip on my hips steady and assertive.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes at him as he stared up at me, his lips glistening from where he had just licked them. It was enough to make me turn my gaze elsewhere. 'Honestly, I can't tolerate this.'

"What? Why you keep looking away mama?"

I don't wanna admit to him that he makes me feel so wet and horny right now

"It's nothing Josh, don't worry about it," I said while he got a hold of my chin placing a soft kiss on my lips.

As our lips met, a natural rhythm took over, and I instinctively draped my arms around his neck. In a seamless motion, he shifted our positions, leaving me lying back on the bed with him hovering above me.

His strong hands intertwined with mine, which felt so small in comparison, as he positioned himself between my legs. I could feel his tongue exploring my mouth, and in that moment, I realized I had never felt such comfort with a man I had only met a few months prior.

Jey broke the kiss and started to trail kisses down my neck, asserting his claim on me. He lifted my tank top, exposing my perky breasts, and began to tease my nipple with his tongue, swirling it in a way that made me arch my back in response.

"J-Jesus...Josh..." I moaned softly seeing him gazing up at me.

"You miss daddy huh?"

"Yes...I missed..you so..much," I could feel him smirking.

Fuck I just admitted that I missed him

I mean i wasn't lying I did miss him a lot

Jey was so different from Jayden, when I was with Jayden at the time he wasn't this gentle with me he would always be rough but with Jey he takes his time.

As I lost myself in my thoughts, I barely noticed him sliding off my sweats and panties. He drew me closer, his face nestled between my legs, where he began to kiss my thighs and gently explore my most intimate areas, sending delightful shivers coursing through my body.

Jey was kissing me all over, really getting into it, and then he started swirling his tongue around my clit.

the way his tongue was working magic on my pussy right now just made me feel like I was in a trance he was so gentle and genuine with it too, I didn't even flinch when he did as well he kept me in place so that I wouldn't escape but why would I?

This is some of the best head I'm getting right now

He gradually slipped two fingers inside me, thrusting in and out, making me moan while his tongue flicked up and down.

"Josh...fuck..."

"Mhm, look how wet you're for me baby," he muttered.

He was working me over with his fingers and tongue doing the same motion as I held my legs up so that he wouldn't have to feeling his other hand squeezing my right breast, his tongue glided over my glistening folds gazing up at me seeing that I was a moaning mess for him and only him.

That's when I began riding his face and fingers at the same time causing me to roll my eyes in the back of my head while doing so it felt so good feeling my clit being over simulated by him.

Every time he swirled his tongue over my bud I felt a tiny pit go down in my stomach nearing my orgasm, I gripped onto his mullet pushing his face deeper inside of my wet cunt. "D-daddy..." I whined gazing down at him.

"Gon' ahead make a mess on my face mamas, I want it all," 'he was such a sweet talker that's for sure' I could feel his beard getting wet in my wetness right now he was digging his fingers so deep inside of me almost hitting my g-spot so well.

My fingers were gripping onto the bed sheets circling my hips some more matching his movements knowing how he loved it when I did it, feeling him caressing my things as he continued to rack his tongue on my pussy lips

But I knew he wasn't going to let me cum so easily not just yet, he pulled his face and fingers away from me causing me to whine.

"Joshuaa, what the fuck," I cried out of annoyance as he chuckled at me before placing his glistening lips on to mine tasting myself.

"Calm down, little mama, daddy's got'chu aight?" Jey said softly.

Jey pulled down his sweats that hung low showing off the waistband of his boxers along with taking those off too seeing his dick spring up hitting him in his stomach, he stroke his dick before pulling me closer to the edge of the bed.

I saw him rubbing his dick onto my glistening pussy as he gently push himself inside of me hearing a gasp escaping his lips along with me moaning softly, that's where he began rolling his hips pumping his dick in and out of me.

"All of this for me?" Jey purred as his voice dropped a little bit making my pussy turn upside down.

"Yes, daddy, all for you and only you," I moaned while gazing up at him.

I bit the bottom of my lip watching him beat my pussy up he filled me up some good it didn't make sense, I could feel his hands slithering underneath my ass cheeks began thrusting deeply inside of me.

His dick had me seeing stars at this point as I slide my hands down towards my clit looking at him for permission to rub on it, he nodded his head as I wet my I wet my fingers up before rubbing my clit.

"Fuck, you look so pretty rubbing your pussy like that, keep goin for me baby," He praised me as he pummeled my insides.

My breast began to bounce and shake due to his intense thrust that he had going on causing me to throw my head back into the sheets. "Fuckkkk" I moaned gripping onto his biceps tightly.

"Mhmm gimme' that shit," he responded back as he continued to thrust inside of me.

I could feel my walls tightening around his dick as well as a pit going deep inside of my stomach hitting him in his chest to give him a warning, he pulled out from me seeing all of my warm juices squirt onto his chest.

"Got ya' ass squirting all over me huh?" I nodded my head while covering my face feeling embarrassed.

He removed my hands from my face placing as soft kiss on my lips, "don't be embarrassed baby, I love it," that put a smile on my face while pushing his dick back inside of me and began beating my shit in.

He wrapped his hand around my throat pounding into me deeply trying to chase his high like I did as his dick was coated up with my essence.

I could feel his dick gliding over my spot yet again as I wanted to run away from this so badly but I had to be a big girl and take it.

I loved the way his dick was coming in and out of me I could watch that all day if I wanted to, I could feel his dick twitching inside of me while he cursed underneath his breath gazing down at me with his dark eyes.

He leaned down whispering inside of my ear, "lemme' bust one in you mama," god I wish I wasn't on birth control right now I would've let him put a baby in me the way he speaking to me like this.

I nodded my head giving him permission as he continued to thrust and thrust until his movements were getting sloppy.

He let out a guttural moan, feeling his dick fill me up with his warm semen like a volcano, painted my walls so gently. "Fuck, that felt so fucking good," he groaned as he pulled out of me seeing his cum leak onto my beautiful chocolate body.

Jey bent down and planted a few soft kisses on my lips before making his way to the bathroom to tidy up the remnants that lingered on my stomach. As I lay there, my breathing remained calm, eagerly anticipating his return.

He returned with a warm cloth, gently cleaning my stomach and intimate areas before tossing it into the trash. Jey then switched off the bathroom lights and approached the bed where I was waiting.

We nestled closely under the blanket, my head resting on his chest, listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart. As I looked up at him, I gently traced the designs on his tattooed skin, feeling a deep sense of connection.

"Come stay with me," Jey said as I gazed up at him with a perplexed expression.

"What do you mean stay with you?" I asked.

"I'm saying cancel your flight for tomorrow and come stay with me in Atlanta,"

Desiree no you remember what happened last time something like this happened and it went to straight to shit

Don't do this

"Joshua..."

He pressed his lips against mine before I could even voice my objections, silencing me in an instant. Our mouths danced together as they always had, but then he pulled back, looking deeply into my eyes. "Please, mama, I'm serious. I'm not here for games; I want to take care of you," he pleaded earnestly.

Desiree don't. do. it.

"Joshua that seems a bit much don't you think? What will I say to Bianca?" I said.

"I'll tell her myself aight? just let me take care of you mama, you deserve it," Jey is a great man, a very great man at that something that Jayden couldn't be for me.

I didn't know if I wanted to go through this with him despite my past relationship with Jayden and how he wanted me to move in with him it just scared me honestly.

"I'm scared Joshua..."

"Scared of what baby? I'm right here,"

"I wanna take things slowly I've been through way to much just to hop into another relationship you know?" He nodded his head understanding where I was coming from I knew he meant well but If I was going to go through this I had to take things slow.

I am mentally damaged

Mentally exhausted

And emotionally damaged

Jey grabbed a hold of my chin, "I understand princess, we'll take things easy aight just let me prove it," Jey said.

I noticed the seriousness in his eyes; he wasn't joking at all. I nodded in response, and then a smile broke across his face.

I hope I'm making the right decision in this

I pray he isn't like the rest of em or like Jayden in a way because my heart couldn't handle it anymore if he turns out to be them

Fuck what am I getting myself into?

NOVACANE

A/n: Jey is so patient with Desiree despite her being closed off and feeling scared but he's going to prove that he loves her more than anything.

I hope yall enjoy this chapter lmk in the comments below.

STAY UCEY.

[dazais-guardian-angel]

also I honestly hate Dazai's sudden bullshit theory about Hawthorne's blood bullets to explain how Fyodor killed the soldier at the end of the cannibalism arc, and the fact that this somehow never even occurred to him until now. Normally I do love seeing Dazai be wrong and be shocked/taken off guard for once, it's way too rare and needs to happen a lot more for how goddamn OP he is the rest of the time, but in this case instead of making him feel human from making a natural mistake (forgetting about Q, pinning the wrong person as Fyodor during the helicopter search in cannibalism), it just makes him look incredibly dumb to somehow not have foreseen this before now. Up till this point he's been 5D chess masterminding the shit out of everything, but somehow it didn't even occur to him that Fyodor might not actually be dead for real....... and all it took to make him think that was Sigma viewing his memories? Back when the cannibalism incident happened, the panels seem to indicate that he might know more about Fyodor's ability than he's letting on, but now it's confirmed that he never really knew anything at all, so that part was meaningless I guess...

The Hawthorne theory is so ludicrously out there, but it's in-line with all the other insanely out there things Dazai has been right about before, so it's probably correct lmao; it's just, WHY did he not come up with it until now??? The answer is of course that he didn't realize it until the Plot needed him to, and it's so frustratingly evident. 🫠 As convoluted as this twist is, I honestly wouldn't mind it if it had come from Fyodor himself after he inevitably comes back to taunt Dazai and co — I actually think it doesn't contradict everything else we've seen, because imo there's a difference between the soldier grabbing Fyodor's arm (clear contact), and when Fyodor lightly held his finger over Karma's forehead and most likely used his real ability there, just like he said he did. I think it's neat to think that we were all misdirected by the "Fyodor's ability works through direct contact" thing just because Dazai is the one who first said it, since we're so used to Dazai being right. But I wish Dazai hadn't figured out the truth all on his own so suddenly, doing a complete 180 from like two chapters ago, cause it just makes him look stupid. It doesn't feel like a natural mistake, it just feels like the plot forcing him to be dumb until it needs him to be smart again, which is really noticeable for a character otherwise so insanely smart as Dazai.

[seaofreverie]

Anyway.... Back to what I was pondering earlier today... It's been 4 months but I'm still as deeply obsessed with Exotic Creatures of the Deep as at the very start

[scarletcomet]

does anyone else ever feel like maybe they need to be hospitalized or weren’t ready to be discharged from the hospital?