#i need to. erm . lie down

[simcardiac-arrested]

creamverse iterator oc lore masterpost

(LAST UPDATED: 07/01/25 happy new year yassss)

hi! so if you are a cream fan and a fan of my iterator ocs specifically, you might've noticed that i have been building a storyline around them. most of it happens on the @dj-wayback askblog, but sometimes it gets drowned out by other silly misc asks, and is simply just hard to find if you haven't been keeping up since the beginning so i have decided to try and write a (long) summary of what exactly is happening, what characters are important and what their backstories consist of 👍 make sure to check out the oc tags linked if you want to know more!! i will only be including story-relevant and important comics/animatics, but there are also other drawings that provide context and serve the story (along with just misc art of my ocs)!!

THE MAIN CHARACTERS AND THEIR RESPECTIVE BACKSTORIES:

No Way Back (he/him) (ref + toyhouse info here) is an Iterator who was created specifically to try as little as possible and to put no effort at all into solving the Great Problem. The Ancients thought that by being effortless NWB would actually end up solving it in the end somehow, but that's not what happened, and so his creators turned out to be quite disappointed in him, which resulted in him being blamed, neglected, and more. However, there was one Ancient, who, after finding out that NWB was a dissapointment (just like them), decided to befriend him. The both of them ended up being best friends, close to family, spending almost all of their time together and teaching each other new things about life. In the end, though, despite promising to never ascend and to always be there, Wade ended up leaving NWB along with the rest of the Ancients. Ever since then NWB has been pretty much alone, just making music and trying to still find meaning in life, all the while repressing his emotions regarding the Ancients (including Wade, too). Needless Separation (they/he) (toyhouse) is an Iterator who was created specifically to work as hard as possible and to put all their effort into solving all problems, not just the Great one. In the beginning, they were handling it just fine, even finding the time to indulge in art and many more things that they found joy in. However, after NWB's failure to provide any results, all of his workload got transferred to them, all because their creator was too prideful to let any other Iterators handle it. NS was obviously struggling to keep up with it all, which is when Waves decided to take matters into his own hands and make his creation more 'productive'. Waves ended up purging NS' memories, even those of skills they have taught themself, until all NS could think about was work. Waves ended up ascending before NS could truly fulfill any of his expectations. Ever since then they have been overworking themself to death, unable to come to terms with their trauma, instead blaming NWB for most of it. Wade (any pronouns) (ref here) was an Ancient who was never like the rest, who came from a traditional family consisting of her parents — Waves and Breeze — but hated everything about tradition. She was just a chill guy who wanted to get away from everything and to live the life she always dreamed of: by the sea, with her best friend, doing whatever they wanted. It has not yet been revealed why or how Wade ended up ascending and leaving NWB.

IMPORTANT SIDE CHARACTERS:

Weaving Tales (they/them) (toyhouse) is the senior of the Entwined Local Group. They are most concerned with NS and his overworking habits, even though WT chose to share some of their senior duties with him. Weaving also seems to always be worried about CD and FTA, although for vastly different reasons.

Cognitive Dissonance (she/they) (toyhouse) was an experimental model who caught a virus and basically ended up rebooting. Before that, her and NS used to be very close, although neither of them remember that now.

Fates Torn Again (he/she) (toyhouse) is a younger Iterator who, paradoxically, is both best friends with WT and has a secret vendetta against NS. Is it really just jealousy? Or is there something more to it? MISCELLANOUS STUFF:

NWB has a pet lizard, Slinky (who at one point got the Mark of Communication), and NS has a pet lizard-slugcat hybrid, 33. You can see more of those little guys on the askblog! Both Iterators are also part of an entire local group, who you can read about here — the characters from it will show up in the story and be important (specifically WT, CD and FTA, but others will also play a role). THE CURRENT STORYLINE: NWB opens his broadcasts and begins receiving anonymous messages. That's cool. However, after a bit, he starts getting messages about the Ancients, specifically about how they mistreated him. Which is not something he wants to think about! Ever! But everyone just keeps bringing them up, and NWB ends up having a breakdown over it, all his repressed emotions coming to the surface and making themselves known.

After he is forced to finally start unpacking his issues, he stops messaging NS — who, by the way, he's kind of enemies with! They're the entire opposite of everything he stands for, and he just thinks they suck, and they say they hate him anyway, so he usually only interacts with them to troll them or something (even though they both did share a few good moments together).

But anyways — he stops messaging NS, who, by this time, has gotten used to talking to NWB (and slightly started caring about him because of that, and started getting slightly worried because of the radio silence, but they'd never ever admit it). After fighting with themself over it, NS, with little warning, decides to contact NWB to see how he's doing, which results in, well...

So, now NWB has to deal with both the Ancients' and NS' bullshit (as well as some not-so-pleasant memories), and he crumbles under the pressure just a little bit. He decides to take a break from receiving messages (he goes to host the Iterator OC Swag Awards specifically, which you would think would be a non-canon event, but, err...) and instead lets NS take the wheel.

Long story short: they do not have a good time. Despite being painfully aware of the fact that they messed up, they try their hardest to avoid admitting it. In the end, after a panic attack regarding their past leaves them vulnerable, their conscience sneaks up on them and forces them to face everything they've been trying to ignore. NS doesn't take it too well and also stops responding to messages, even though they do still read them.

They decide to go to Weaving Tales, their mentor and close friend, for help, who tells them to own up to their mistakes and apologize. So that's what NS does. Or, at least, tries to do — it doesn’t go like they expected at all, but maybe that’s for the better? The both of them make up, in the end, a new start to their relationship. And — even though they do come across some bumps in the road — it seems to be the start of something good.

Well, keyword: seems. Because while NS is indeed trying to be better like they promised, and while they have fun answering messages together with NWB, they keep speaking out of turn. They come to the conclusion that, perhaps this one time, NWB isn't the problem, they are.

So how does NS deal with this information? They do some research on how to improve your relationships with people. And it actually works! Look! See? Or, wait, that's not right... Why does Wayback look so bothered? Could it be that Sep's self-improvement plan actually made everything... worse? Well, there goes that idea. But hey, at least now they know they should be (2% more) honest with each other.

...aaaaaaand that's where the story is currently at! congrats! !!! you now know what's going on in the cream iterator oc universe!!!!! i'll try to update this post as more stuff gets revealed so, er, check this out if you ever feel lost about what's happening? i hope i've explained everything well. like i said at the top of the post, i tried to include everything important, but there's still some stuff that is worth seeing!! so go look boy (plural)

[yan-randomfandom]

yandere viktor with an innocent and naive reader but with magical abilities, where the reader knows how to use simple magic like conjuring plants or controlling water... ((the reader only knows the basics of magic, since no one taught it and this magic would be the only one so far who knows how to do it, and the reader was a little scared of being in a rush or being studied like a lab rat because she has magic, but she confided her secret to Viktor...)) Why do you do that?

Y!Viktor x GN!Mage!Reader

a/n: posting this before act 2 omg, i think i need a rewatch — btw this one only has very light yandere undertones,, ..erm

🫧 ;

"Psst. Hey, want to know a secret?"

Viktor blinked. His eyes followed the moving reflection on the iridescent river. Your figure was mirrored in the water, an unreadable expression on your face.

... He looked up, alarmed. Were you talking to him? Viktor didn't even know you.

You met his amber eyes. For whatever reason, on the edge of the cliff just above the water, you folded your legs against your chest and buried half your face in your arms.

"Well?" you pushed, voice muffled.

His mouth opened, then closed. Viktor nodded wordlessly instead.

" ... Promise me you won't tell anyone."

Without a moment's hesitation, the young boy nodded again.

He watched as you stood up and jumped steadily into the river, splashing him and his mechanical boat. A low, frustrated groan escaped him as water seeped into his clothes.

"Oh, sorry," you said as he tried to wipe the water from his face. "Let me get that for you."

Suddenly, Viktor felt his weight gradually become less unpleasant—almost refreshing, even, as if the water slid across and away from his skin and clothes.

That's when he saw it.

A small blob of water, floating in the air. It moved carefully like it was fragile.

Then came another, and another. Small specks came together until it formed one single bubble.

Abruptly, it dropped in the river. Like nothing ever happened. Viktor's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Cool, right?" you grinned. He looked at you with furrowed eyebrows, his jaw gaping. One of your hands was lifted, fingers poised in a manner of delicacy.

"You," Viktor finally spoke, stammering, his breathing ragged. "You did that? Was that... magic?"

You chuckled, settling yourself beside him. He turned to you, scooting over to make room, and met your steady gaze. “I think so. But I was serious when I said never, ever tell anyone.”

He shook his head, utterly appalled. "Is this some sort of trick?"

"I wish—"

“This is not funny,” he snarled, his demeanor shifting completely, catching you off guard. “If you’re just here to get a reaction out of me, I’d advise you and your friends to leave. Please.”

You frowned, standing up with your fists clenched. “No, you’ve got it all wrong. I’m so sorry! And I don’t… even have friends.”

Viktor searched your face.

There's nothing to suggest a lie. He's observant, and he quietly prides himself over it, but this is one of the few cases where he genuinely starts to doubt his judgment.

"But," you sighed, turning away. "I'll leave if that's what you want. Apologies."

...

"... Wait."

— 🌱

The leaves of the seedling barely moved.

"Aw," you chuckled, dropping your arm to your side. Who knew conjuring plant powers could be so draining? "Well, I tried. Let's take a break!"

He let out a choked noise, pausing his writing. "We barely started! How is it that whenever you get to try something new and amazing, you avoid it?”

...

You didn't respond immediately.

Viktor put down his notebook, looking back at you, who was blankly staring at him.

"I guess I'm... scared?" you said, tilting your head. To his surprise, you gently grabbed his hand, running your thumb across his palm.

His face warmed. He physically couldn't say or do anything.

"You're the only one who knows about this, Vik," you muttered, your eyes fixed on his rough skin. "I sprung this on you when we were kids, which is kind of hilarious, by the way, but I had a reason. In my mind, you were the only one who would understand."

He thought so, too.

Viktor couldn’t stop himself from slipping his fingers between yours. It was a good thing you weren’t looking at him—otherwise, you might’ve seen how red his face had become.

"And you told me no one will believe me," he said, and while the memory was of you giving him a serious warning, his tone was filled with nothing but endearment.

"I still stand by that," you laughed, pulling your hand away from his, much to his disappointment. You still hadn't glance at his face. He mentally scolded himself for almost hoping you would see his expression. "Especially with our age now. They'll just think you're crazy."

"I understand," he chuckled, turning away. "About that break... you want to go to our usual?"

A smile curled your lips. "Yes, please!"

— 💌

Viktor said he has a surprise for you.

Admittedly, you're feeling extremely anxious. He grew up to become a researcher, an inventor—facts that don’t surprise you.

As his best friend, a person able to do magic, while absolutely shitty at it, you know he sees you as someone with massive potential. Literally. No one else in Piltover or Zaun is known to do this. Maybe in a hundred years—who knows? You didn't even have a proper education.

...

Viktor cleared his throat. "I've been offered a position in the University of Piltover."

You froze. The letter in his fingers bore the university’s wax seal in the center, bold and unmistakable.

“Holy shit,” you blurted, your eyes darting between him and the letter. “Holy shit!”

Jumping over to Viktor, you wrapped your arms around him in a tight embrace. The biggest, most triumphant smile tugged at your lips. He staggered a little, but you were too wrapped up in your happiness to notice.

"Language," he laughed, hugging you back.

You snickered. "I'm so proud of you! Words can't even begin to express how happy I am for you!"

Pulling back, your hands still rested on his shoulders. Your smile relaxed ever so slightly as your eyes gazed into his softer ones.

"I knew you could do it," you exhaled.

A small pause.

Viktor had a look. Oh, shit. What’s that smirk for?

"...You're not done," you accused, raising an eyebrow.

He lifted the letter in his hand. "I have not accepted yet."

Now, your brows knitted together in utter confusion.

"... Why not—?"

"I said I won't be going unless they let me bring a plus one."

You smile faltered, denial crossing your face. He noticed it. Did he just say what you thought you heard him say?

"Are you saying...?" Your expression shifted into worry; you didn't quite understand his point.

"I want you to come with me," Viktor said, grabbing your hand and placing the letter in your palm. "To Piltover."

Oh, no. You didn't mean to.

You panicked, pulling away, the letter slipping from your hand.

Viktor's brows furrowed. He thought you'd be happier about the news.

Then, he looked around.

It had rained just before he decided to share the news. Some raindrops were still fresh, glistening from the downpour.

And around your figure, small droplets rose into the air. The air is thick with tension.

"Viktor. You're not giving me to them, are you...?"

Defeated. That's how your voice sounded.

"Of course not," he hushed, pushing you onto a chair. "Never. Please calm down. Let me explain."

You obliged, sitting down. He sat beside you.

"I'm sorry," you spoke first, meeting his eyes. "It's not that I don't trust you. Heck, I trust you more than anyone. The thought of going up there... it just makes me anxious."

"I understand," Viktor nodded. He turned his head. "However, I promise you, I won’t let them take you away from me. You’ll be solely under my care. But I do know someone who’s willing to help us."

Viktor. So compassionate and filled with empathy. You admired him for those very reasons, not just for his brilliance. His presence feels like a whole other world to you—someone who could help you understand your abilities. Perhaps the only chance you have to truly learn who, or what you are.

"I'll be a burden."

"No. Of course not. I want you by my side."

You hesitated. Despite your family being clueless about your ability, they were still the people you cared for. You still had a life in the undercity.

"And if I refuse...?"

Viktor took a moment to respond. The thought of leaving you hurt his heart.

"You... I believe you don't have much of a choice."

You couldn't explain why, but you found it in yourself to wholeheartedly believe him.

— 💜

zamn

critique is welcome btw

[megalomaniacz]

SWEET CHERRY 🍒

camgirl!reader x toxic actually loserish really pathetic!vi

diva mode activated halfway through writing this…guys idk i’m gay okay and if it isn’t good i never wrote it…okay? erm nsfw!! listened to tate mcrae and charli while writing this if that means anything to u. also, my birthday is tomorrow!! might drunkenly pump out a toxic!cait one shot OMG WHO SAIDDDD THAT

PART ONE: $EX. LIE$. UGLY. TRUTH.

the time on her computer screen read 11:07 pm. you were two minutes behind schedule. every regular viewer, including vi, was on the edge of their seat. licking at chapped lips and rubbing lotiony hands together. eyes wide with wonder, refreshing the site every 10 seconds until you popped onto screen.

you were wearing your signature cherry red lingerie, flawless makeup, soft pop music playing in the back. nails sharp and adorned with cherries. you held a sucker that read eat me in your hand, slowly unwrapping it for the camera. “hi cherries, guess what flavor this is.”

vi was foaming at the fucking mouth, adjusting the computer in her lap. eyes glued to the screen while she bit her lip and held onto your every word.

you moved closer to the screen. “grape? chat what do you mean? cmon guess and you get a prizeeee.”

the way you spoke, singing your words. ending the sentence in a suggestive tone. your sultry manner and bedroom eyes. everything was driving vi up a goddamn wall. you were all that and bag of fucking chips. she couldn’t stop thinking about you since she found a video of you fucking yourself with a dildo on an adult site. lezgetbusy or something fucking stupid. scrolled through the comments (5,000) until someone alluded to the fact that you cammed.

then she followed your profile and immediately paid your $50 messaging fee.

in all honesty, she was talking to herself in there half the time. the rare moments in which you did respond gave her a euphoria she couldn’t contain. she wanted to fuck you. no, she needed to fuck you. with her fingers, her tongue, her strap, and whatever the hell else will fit up there. it was driving her crazy.

grandSurpass: grape lol

justmyego: strawberry?

Several_means: lick it again please :(

she rolled her eyes at the screen. “idiotic men, it’s fucking cherry.” she begins to tap in the chat. she presses send, and when she sees you reading it? mouthing her comment? she nearly chokes, feeling her face flush.

“very good, vi? violet22. very good.”

her hands were stuffed into her pants now, legs spread while she toys with herself. you said her name. you said her fucking name! she throws her head back, thinking about how easily it fell off your tongue.

“since you guessed right, you get, drumroll pleaseeee.”

she was close now. pool of wetness filling her boxers. legs shaking, mouth wide open. please keep talking, please keep talking…please…

“a chance to chat with me personally! this stream, and others, will be a bit shorter as i’ve decided i’ll be doing one on one chats with some lucky cherries. congratulations vio-“

she slams her computer shut, takes her hand out of her pants, and jumps off her bed. stumbles into her bathroom, washes her hands and splashes water on her face, then stumbles back to her room. reopens her computer, runs a hand down her face, types in the website url again. logs in. clicks watch stream. and checks under her ass for shit because she swears she just shat herself. just now.

“oh, vi is back. okay guys.” you swish the lollipop around in your mouth a bit before continuing to speak. “i’m going to send you a link in private message, violet22. see you soon!” a toothy and cheery smile spread across your sweet face.

the second the link shows up in her inbox, she clicks it. hits the $200hr pay wall. fumbles in her pockets for her wallet, fuck she left it in the bathroom okay she’s got it dammit she’s shaking. can barely put the card numbers in. she’s making you wait she’s making you wait fuck.

after payment is secured, you in all your sweet glory, pop up on her screen. you’re sat on your bed, sucker hanging from your lips, fiddling with your freshly manicured nails. you hear the ding, realized she’s joined, and lay on your belly. tits squeezing together on the bed.

“hi! violet22? is that you? i can’t see you, turn your camera on!”

oh fucking fuck the fuck fuck fuckity FUCK FUCK. she has no time to fix her face up for you, or change out of her 2 day old t shirt. atleast you can’t smell her through the screen. she clicks on the small camera icon in left corner of the screen, and puts on an awkward smile.

“hi. there you are.” you smile, kicking your feet.

“hi sweet cherry. fuck. i’ve come to your videos so much nothing gets me so worked up. fuck. sorry.”

you giggle a bit and her face visibly becomes 3 shades redder. looks like she’s got some sort of filter on.

“it’s okay. thank you so much, your support means the world to me. do you have any personal requests while you’ve got me? clocks counting down.” you pucker your lips.

the time on the right corner of the screen is counting down 4:56…4:55…

vi’s eyes widen, and she gulps. finding it hard to think of anything to say. she was in complete shock. you’re looking at her. talking to her. you’re talking to her,,,oh fuck you’re talking to her.

“i-i’m- hmmm.” she stutters, picking at a hangnail. the clocks on 4:01 now and her heart seems to damn near be beating out of her chest.

“how about we play a quick game, okay? and next time, maybe you’ll have something thought of. maybe we’ll have more time…” your smile melts her heart. next time? GEE WILLIKERS!!! someone check this bitches pulse.

“okay.” she nods, barely present. still unsure if this is some sort of orgasm induced illusion.

“if you can guess the word i’m thinking of, i’ll take an extra special picture just for you. kay?”

you wink and she feels like the wind has been knocked out of her. she gives you a small nod, and it makes you laugh. she’s so cute and pathetic.

3:48…3:47

“okay. it’s a type of flower.” you lick your sugar ridden lips, putting the entire sucker in your mouth then pulling it out slowly.

vi’s about to piss herself. or is that come? man these boxers are gonna need a deep clean.

“is it a rose? a tulip?”

you shake your head, taunting smirk on your face. “try again, cutie.”

oh she’s so gonna ride a pillow with your picture on it tonight. might even get the picture all wet with her slick, imagine her sweet pussy on your perfectly plump lips. wait what was the question?

“ummm lillies? dandelions? sunflowers?”

you shake your head, sticking your tongue out and directly swiping it over the fading words. eat me do you know how bad she wants to?

“hint, please?” she looks at you with sad eyes. feels like she’s being edged or something. pussy growing wetter by the minute FUCK 2:49…2:48

“cmon, you’re smart. use that big brain of yours.” you follow with a taunting laugh. she’s too fucking horny for this, and you look so good. she wonders how you feel. your skin. bet it’s warm and soft. bet you’d grip the sheets when nipped at your thighs. back arching-

“daises? did i say that already?”

you shake your head and look over at the small timer taking a bite out of the sucker, now it reads at me.

“lavender is a flower? right?”

you sit up on the bed, and she watches the way you widen your thighs. pretty little red bow right above your pussy. you arch your back, ass in the air, chewing on the candy. “close.”

the money she’d spend to have one night with you. ass up face buried in your silky red sheets. cock buried so deep in your pussy it’s kissing your stomach. WHAT WAS THE QUESTION AGAIN?

“aww your time is up.” you pout. there’s five seconds. vi’s drooling, all over herself. like actually. she wipes her mouth, slow blinking, taking mental pictures.

“the word was violet, silly! see you next stream.”

fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck

[mooonjin]

Reminiscing - Pt. 2

Pairing: Viktor x f!reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+ work!! minors shoo flyyyyy - tin/machine/purple viktor, SLIGHT submissive viktor, submissive reader, exes trying to get back together (oof dont do that), suggestive innuendoes, attempted dirty talk, cussing, breeding mentions, erm no protection smh, kissing, smut with plot, f!reader implied but no use of feminie pronouns — tell me if I've missed anything!

< Part One

"Say something..." He muttered under his breath. Viktor was frustrated and trying to keep himself in control. He was a bit pent up, he wasn’t going to lie to himself about that. You were clearly being affected somewhat by this, which was making him struggle to maintain his usual persona.

His lips trail down your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps and saliva. His touch is both familiar and terrifying, a ghost of the past. You try to push him away, but his grip on your thigh is like iron, pinning you in place.

"Stop this, Viktor," you whisper, your voice trembling. He ignores your plea, his hand finding the button of your shirt and expertly undoing it. The cool air against your skin sends a shiver down your spine, but it's nothing compared to the burning sensation of his gaze as it roams over your body.

“You used to love it when I touched you like this,” he murmurs, his voice a low, deliberate growl that seems to crawl under your skin. His words linger in the air, weighted with nostalgia. “You’d arch your back, moan my name like it was the only thing you knew…”

His fingers trail up your arm, feather-light, as if testing your reaction. When you don’t pull away, he steps closer, his presence overwhelming, his scent intoxicating. The heat radiates from his body, and you hate how it makes your skin prickle with awareness. 

Slowly, methodically, he pulls at the hem of your shirt, peeling it away to reveal the soft lace of your pastel pink bra. His eyes darken, their intensity almost feral, locking onto you like a predator cornering its prey.

He stares. And he stares long.

Viktor falls into a trance simply by just staring at your undergarment. He hasn't seen you like this in years yet he already seems dizzy and hazy. From all those years ago... you've definitely increased a little in cup size as your breasts fully molds into his hands. His eyes darken as he gazes down at you, lingering on the delicate lace of your bra. He reaches out a finger, tracing the outline of your breast, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

"Such beautiful things," he murmurs, his voice a low growl. "Hidden away from the world."

You couldn't voice your protests anymore as this intimacy between the two of you brings back vivid, sensual memories when you two lived together. Though he may have changed as a human and his morals, he hadn't changed the way his careful fingers intricately ran across your skin.

Viktor's fingers were warm despite looking like a machine. As he lowers himself to level with your tits, he inhales your scent. It was a slow and intimate inhale, your entire scent coating his senses. He looks up at you, amber honey eyes sparkling with intensity and need before taking your left, clothed nipple into his mouth.

A shiver courses through you when his mouth brushes against your nipple—just barely at first, a teasing caress. The contact sends an involuntary jolt through your body, your back arching before you can stop yourself. His low chuckle vibrates against your chest. 

“Still so sensitive,” he remarks, his voice a mixture of satisfaction and possession. With his free hand, a thumb brushes over the peak of your right breast in slow, deliberate circles, coaxing another soft gasp from your lips. The touch is maddening, gentle enough to tease.

Viktor's mouth grows to salivate immensely, almost like a slobbering dog. His lips were shiny and smooth, his tongue moving in desperate fervor against the pink lace of your bra. 

His lips part even more and he takes you into his mouth again, his tongue drawing more lazy patterns that leave your mind spinning. You let out a soft exhale, the sound barely escaping, muffled by the tension straining in your throat. He pulls back, his lips glistening as a thin strand of spit connects his tongue to the now dark pink, damp spot on your bra.

He admires the pert mound of your hardened nipple against the lace. Viktor leans down, his mouth closing over your tits again, suckling gently. His eager free hand gently twist and tug at your other nipple as well as running his palm over your flesh. He moans gently when he fondles your tits.

He pulls back, his eyes filled with a hunger that makes your blood run cold.

"Viktor wait—" you attempt to voice a protest but he's quick to ignore it just as fast as you spoke. He moves his hand to the clasp of your bra, his fingers fumbling with the delicate hooks. 

"No... no, I'm not stopping." Finally, they snap open and he gently pulls the bra away, revealing your breasts fully. To him, they sat incredibly nicely for him. 

You gasp, your eyes wide with a mixture of fear and arousal. Viktor's eyes devour your body, taking in every curve, every inch of your skin. The sudden exposure left you vulnerable and exposed.

He reached out and cupped one of your breasts in his hand, the warmth of his palm engulfing the flesh. He gently massaged it, his touch sending more pleasure through you, your body arching towards him, "You feel so good," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "So soft, so warm..."

Viktor leaned down and took your other breast in his mouth, gently sucking on your bare nipple. You exhaled harshly, your head thrown back in ecstasy. He moved his free hand lower, tracing the curve of your stomach. He hungrily laps up your nipple, causing him to pull you towards his mouth even more. 

When he pulls back, Viktor stands up to his full height, pulling you to his metallic body, "Bed, now. On your back." He demanded you, desperately wanting to see you listen to him on your own will. Something you used to do. 

Willingly, but also with a hint of hesitation, you climb into the safe confines of your bed. You lay against your soft sheets, eyeing him with a bit of anxiety. 

He kneels between your legs without wasting a second, his eyes never leaving yours the moment you lay. He reached out and gently stroked your inner thigh. When his fingers brush between your legs, you gasp audibly, the sound loud in the thick silence between you. He circles his touch, the pressure maddeningly light. Tension coils low in your belly and you bite your lip, desperate not to give him the satisfaction of hearing your moans.

Unlike your bra, Viktor claws at your knee-height skirt. He was hungry to get them off, wanting access to you like his life depended on it. He couldn't wait any longer. Reaching out, he traced the delicate curve of your hip with a fingertip. 

He reached for the hem of your skirt, his fingers brushing against your thigh. With a swift, practiced move, he slid the skirt down your legs, the soft fabric pooling at the edge of your bed. Your hands instinctively reached for him, but he held them captive, his grip firm yet gentle. He wanted to savour this moment, to prolong the anticipation, to watch the way your body arched and pleaded beneath him.

"Slower, Viktor... you're too fast." You mumbled, slightly sitting up as you look down at your now bare legs. 

He chuckled a low. He moved lower, his eyes fixed on the delicate lace of your panties, the way they clung to your hips, outlining the curves of your body like second skin.

"Such gorgeous legs," he completely ignored your plea. With a single, decisive movement, he tugged them down, revealing the silken expanse of your inner thighs, the delicate folds of your cunt bathed in the soft light, "and a gorgeous... pussy."

You arched against him, a desperate plea etched on your face, your eyes wide with a mixture of fear and ecstasy. He met your gaze, his eyes burning with a possessive hunger. Viktor reached out and gently stroked your inner thigh, the contact igniting a burning sensation between your legs.

"You're so wet for me," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. "Always have been." You didn't even realise yourself the amount of arousal that pooled between your thighs. His metallic fingers traced the hairs that framed your cunt, his eyes sparkling amber and pink. He moved his hand lower, his fingers brushing against the entrance to your core.

You gasped, your hands instinctively reaching for his hair before pulling away in realisation. You couldn't succumb fully, this was your ex.

However, he took that as the go ahead. Slowly, achingly slowly, he pushed a finger inside you, slow and deliberate, the intrusion sending a spark of shock and pleasure. You whimpered at the penetration of his finger, the feel of foreign skin inside you. 

"So tight, so ready, I love it." he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

"Viktor..." you sighed out his name, resulting in a lip bite from him, his name slipping from your lips in a broken whisper.

Your legs were spread wide, an invitation he could not ignore. His gaze roamed over you, drinking in every curve, every glimmer of sweat that caught the soft flicker of light. Another finger of his plunged deeper inside your cunt with a confidence born of knowing your body already. The sound of your low moan filled the room, a quiet surrender that sent a shiver down his prosthetic spine.

"Pretty pussy..." His fingers began to move, finding a rhythm that felt instinctive. Each thrust of his fingers inside your hole was hungry, coaxing out a response from you. The subtle shivers that rippled across your skin, the way your thighs tensed and quivered under his touch.

"Nngh..." a huff of a whimper escaped your throat. He was entranced by you, the rise and fall of your chest, the way your lips parted as if to call his name but never quite did.

With excruciating slowness, he withdrew his fingers, relishing the way your body leaned into the absence. The sight of you flushed and trembling, was intoxicating. Viktor brought himself towards your face.

His head dipped low and he pressed his mouth to you, claiming you with a ferocity. His kiss was deep and consuming as he sought to imprint every part of you onto himself. His tongue explored your mouth, tasting you thoroughly, basking in the rawness of your arousal. His kisses trailed lower, moving to the hollow of your throat.

You closed your eyes, slowly submitting to his actions. Viktor descended between the valley's of your pert tits with warm and thirsty kisses. 

Lower, lower, lower.

You felt the heat of his breath before his tongue made contact with the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, tracing a wet, teasing path upward.

"Your pussy is so pretty," he repeated, "I've dreamed of this precious hole every night, used to come all over myself to the thought of it being presented to me like a feast."

He pressed his lips against your clit, his tongue swirling, craving the taste he longed for for years. He tasted the sweetness of your arousal, the salty tang of your sweat and it drove him wild. His movements shifted, his tongue alternating between slow, torturous circles and quick, darting strokes. Each change brought a new reaction from you—a gasp, a shudder, a keening whimper.

Viktor wanted to unravel you completely, wanting to prepare you for his aching cock.

He continued to worship you, his tongue a relentless instrument of pleasure, until he pulled back with a pant with his chin drenched in your wetness. He teased you, wanting you to cum on his cock. 

He'd make you cum on his face another time.

He unclipped his navy blue cloak, revealing his veiny purple, shimmering cock. He was already leaking, the pearly pre-cum trailing underneath his length.

"Need you." Was all he said as he ground the tip of his erection against your prepared cunt. Viktor groaned, throwing his head back slightly, some of his chocolate locks slick against his forehead. He let out a soft sigh as he listened to the sounds of your wetness against his cock.

"Can I put it in?" Viktor's soft Czech accent managed to reach his whimpering words. But instead, he didn't wait for an answer.

With a growl, he thrust inside your cunt, filling you completely.

"Fuck!" You cried out. You hadn't slept with anyone in a few months so you were glad Viktor prepared you. He felt lengthier and you definitely weren't used to his 'new' cock. He buried his face in your hair, his own cries of pleasure mingling with yours.

He moved slowly at first, savouring the feel of you, the taste of you. He wanted to memorise the way your body responded to him. It had been a good few years without your touch. The way you gasped, the way your legs tightened around him, the way you whispered his name like a prayer.

Viktor's cock throbbed inside your cunt, probing beneath your lower abdomen, "I'm here... right here." He lifted the careful, purple, supernatural hand of his and pressed it against your bare skin where his dick reached from inside. He gazed at the tummy bulge, relishing the feel of his cock head rubbing right there.

"Aaah..." His pace quickened, his control unraveling as your movements matched his. The sound of his 'skin' slapping your skin, every thrust urged Viktor on. He tilted his head back, a moan escaping his lips, his hands finding your plush hips, then your hair. Viktor needed to bury himself as deep as he can get.

"You're so tight, it's driving me crazy," He buried his face against your neck, his breath hot and uneven as he whispered your name like a vow, “I want you to look me in the eyes while I’m inside you.”

You arched into him, desperate for more. You don't remember him being this talkative during sex. As you responded with only moans and whimpers, Viktor seemed to pick up the pace. He wants you to say something. He needs it.

"Can't you be a good little... whore and respond to your lover?" He moved with a primal rhythm, his hips grinding against yours with increasing thrusts, "I never want to stop fucking you."

Where did this talk come from? What had he learned all these years? Viktor's amber eyes glossed over with lust and shimmer, his forehead covered in a light layer of sweat as his eyebrows creased due to the immense pleasure.

"Oh God, Viktor..." You finally responded with something.

"I want to fuck you in every room of this house." His response back was even quicker and more pathetic. HIs words strung with an air of thirst. The air is thick with the smell of sex, so lewd, so sweaty. You clenched at the use of every cuss word that slipped through his pink lips, "S-So... warm."

You felt yourself nearing the edge, a wave of pleasure building within your lower abdomen. Viktor needily thrusted into your slick pussy, "I'm close..."

"Can I cum inside you? I need to cum inside you." He scans your face quickly, picking up on any facial expression or any answer before he bursts, as he does his best to hold back. You can feel his hips stutter, purposely not answering his question.

Viktor bites his lip, exhaling a harsh groan against your ear. You simply whine in response, "Cum Vik..."

His eyes, heavy-lidded and clouded with raw desire, fix on your every movement with an intensity in the way his gaze examines your own sweat covered face, hair strands sticking to your skin. Under the weight of his stare, you find yourself quivering, succumbing to the pleasure of his cock.

 It’s almost too much, the power of his attention making your breath hitch as your fingers involuntarily press harder into his thighs, seeking some anchor against the overwhelming sensations. 

The intensity of the moment overwhelms Viktor, his restraint unraveling as a deep groan escapes his lips, "I'm going to breed you so good." 

His body moves on instinct, his hips lifting in a desperate response and coming back down against your pelvis, each thrust wild and uninhibited. His movements grow erratic, each surge of his hips filled with raw urgency. 

As you hit your release with a loud whimper, you clench enthusiastically out of your own control. Your thighs gently spasming. A soft, broken cry escapes his lips, the sound filled with a vulnerability as he halts his hips against your own. When Viktor stills balls-deep inside your slick cunt, warm ropes of his cum fill you up. 

In the throes of his release, he surrenders completely, collapsing with his full weight against you. His breath comes in shallow, trembling gasps. Viktor’s lips part and your name spills out in a soft, broken whimper.

His hips gently stutter, the aftershocks running wild through his thighs and his cum already leaking out your hole, "I love your body so much..."

Your breaths come in shallow, uneven gasps as you rest against him, your chest rising and falling in time with the frantic beat of your heart. The pads of your fingers trace the curve of his shoulder blades, the soft ridges of muscle beneath his supernatural skin. 

"Did you remember us better? How good it felt, every night when we did this?" He pathetically asked you, puppy eyes staring up at you with fluttering eyelashes.

 “When this all mattered?” You replied coolly, deliberately letting your voice remain detached, though it was harder than you wanted it to be.  You refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing how his words had affected you. But he didn’t look away, his gaze clinging to yours with a desperation that was almost unbearable.

"It always mattered."

Post Notes: wooow viktor 😋😍😍 im soooooooo gonna do more smut of him

~ ~ ~

@lightupsketchersperson

my taglist form!

[taeyongdoyoung]

summary: your best friend brags complains that he can't get laid due to his huge dick posing a threat to random girls at parties, so you offer to fix his little big problem pairing: soobin x reader genre: smut, best friends to lovers warnings: explicit language, big dick soobin (canon event), size kink, foreplay, eating out, blowjob, hugging, fingering, size training, creampie, consensual intercourse, kissing, aftercare, allusions to death in a sexual context, lowkey possessive soobin at the end author's note: the killa is on my mind 24/7 and im down bad for soobin 25/8 🥵 so i had to get it out of my system somehow 🤷 word count: 2k

“You’re kidding, right?” you ask your best friend when he makes a rather shocking confession as the two of you are sitting in his bedroom after one of your usual anime marathons.

“I wish I was. But I would never lie to you,” Soobin responds truthfully. His big moist eyes look a 100% genuine but it still sounds so...bizarre.

“Let me get this straight…Every time you try to hook up with a girl at one of those parties Yeonjun keep dragging you to, you go to a room, eat them out like the generous, selfless guy you are, and then after you take off your pants, they get scared by your gigantic cock and refuse to have sex, running away in horror?”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to explain for the past 10 minutes, yeah,” Soobin confirms with a very adorable pout on his stupid face.

You shake your head in utter disbelief.

“I’m sorry but this is just ridiculous. Any girl would be happy to hook up with a guy that has a huge dick.”

“Well, I guess not any girl ‘cause this shit has happened three times already and I’m at my limit. Why can’t I just get laid?” Soobin bemoans his tragic destiny.

“No, I don’t get it. The least they could do is give you a quickie or something to return the favour. It’s so rude to just sprint away. I can’t believe your cock is that terrifying.”

“Ugh, please stop saying that. It’s so embarrassing,” Soobin covers his face behind his big hands. Hold on a minute…

“If what you’re saying is true, then I think it’s pretty hot. Those girls are surely missing out.”

“Or maybe they’re just looking after themselves. Like…I’m not mad at them for being spooked out, I just wish I could finally get some, you know?” Soobin sighs.

“Death by dick does seem appealing,” you shrug.

“Y/N!” he exclaims.

“Listen, what if I make you an offer? You prove to me that you weren’t exaggerating about your size and I promise I won’t run away and will take care of your…frustrations.”

“Are you seriously suggesting this?” Soobin freaks out. “This could ruin our friendship.”

“I won’t be weird about it, I swear. What do you say?”

“Fuck it. I’m so horny that this actually sounds like a good idea,” Soobin admits. “Can I eat you out first?”

“Erm, if you insist,” you reply, suddenly feeling nervous.

“I just wanna take care of you, make sure you’re all nice and wet for me,” Soobin explains patiently.

“You really don’t have to,” you reassure him.

“I know but it’d be awkward for me to just whip it out. Please?”

“Oh…okay,” you really can’t imagine saying no when he’s asking you so sweetly. God, what did you get yourself into?

Soobin takes off your leggings and panties in one swift movement and pushes you down gently on the bed so you are in a lying position. He spreads your thighs apart and looks at your pussy, already glistening with wetness caused by the conversation you’ve been having. Soobin smirks but doesn’t say anything about it. You’re grateful for that as he dives in, licking and kissing all over you. Fucking hell, if his tongue is capable of making you feel this way, you are slightly unnerved to find out what his cock can achieve. But unlike those girls at the parties, you are determined to never run away from your best friend.

Soon enough, you reach your high, overwhelmed by Soobin’s insane tongue movements and his big hands gripping your thighs. You need a few moments to gather your thoughts and when you are finally able to speak, those are the first words that leave your mouth:

“I think they fleed because you eat pussy like a starved animal. Seriously, what the hell was that?”

Soobin chuckles nervously and runs his fingers through his black hair, pushing it back and exposing his forehead for a bit.

“Trust me, it’s not that.”

“Prove it,” you challenge him even though you are fairly certain he’s telling the truth. Your best friend has never lied to you, so why start now?

Soobin takes off his pants, his hands are shaking and you immediately feel bad. You put your hand on his in an attempt to calm him down.

“Hey, you don’t have to if you feel uncomfortable.”

“I do want this, but after so many failed attempts, I’m so anxious…”

“I’m not going anywhere, Soobin,” you insist and squeeze his hand reassuringly.

His skin complexion looks slightly less pale and your words seem to give him the confidence he so desperately needs. Moment of truth. Soobin takes off his boxers and…Oh damn, he was not exaggerating. He’s not just big, he’s so huge a part of you wonders how is it humanly possible to carry such a weapon around and maintain the gentle, humble composure with which Soobin carries himself.

“You’re not running yet,” he jokes.

“Soob?”

“Y-yeah?” his voice cracks, he is obviously terrified of what you’re going to say.

“I’m not gonna lie to you, I finally get why these girls ran away.”

“Oh,” he sounds a little dejected, as if already expecting you to go back on your offer.

“But! That’s not gonna stop me. Just tell me what you want first and I’ll try my best to make you happy.”

“Huh?” Soobin is too flustered to process your words.

“My hands, my mouth, or my pussy, what do you want first?”

“You mean…you’re willing to give me all of them?” he blinks in shock.

This poor, precious boy. Did he really face disappointment so many times that he is now looking a gift horse in the mouth with such uncertainty?

“Just pick, Soobie, I promise I’ll give you anything you need.”

“Um…can you suck me off? Please?”

Gosh, he’s so adorable you want to eat him.

You nod a little too enthusiastically and go down on your knees, taking as much of his cock as you can. It’s a tight fit but what you can’t put inside your mouth you make up for by wrapping your hands around him. You suck and lick and touch him, eager to give him as much pleasure as he did you. Your beloved best friend has obviously been frustrated for a while now because it doesn’t take him long to cum inside your mouth. There is so much you can’t manage to swallow it all despite your valiant efforts and you see some of it falling down your cheeks. You wipe it off with a finger, sticking it into your mouth, grinning widely at Soobin.

“Fuck, you’re incredible. What…how…are you okay?”

He presses his big palm against your cheek and it takes a lot of self-control for you to not melt right there and then.

“I’m great. Did…did it feel good for you?” you ask sheepishly.

You’re not particularly confident about your skills but you genuinely did your best for him.

“Are you crazy? It felt insanely good,” Soobin takes your hand, lifting you up and wrapping his arms around you in a hug.

“I’m glad,” you respond, feeling safer and warmer than ever before in your life.

“Do…you still want to…you know?” Soobin asks.

“If you’re asking whether you can put your cock inside my pussy, then yeah, go for it. As long as it’s something you want, of course.”

You keep reminding him to only do things he’s completely okay with, because you would hate to put your best friend in a situation he doesn’t enjoy just because of your greed.

“I want you so bad, you have no idea. But I think I’ll need to stretch you out a bit, yeah?”

“O-okay,” you quickly agree and in no time, Soobin’s long fingers are inside of your pussy, going deeper than your own have ever been and making you feel things you never even dreamed about.

“How does it feel?” Soobin asks in concern.

“Heavenly,” you admit and just as you’re about to reach your second orgasm, Soobin’s fingers leave you.

“N-no, why’d you do that?” you whine frustratedly.

“Wanna feel you come around my cock.”

As it turns out, you'd like this just as much so you quickly forgive him for ruining your orgasm.

“I think I have a condom in my-“ Soobin starts but you cut him off.

“I’m taking a pill. And I believe we’re both clean, so…”

“You gon’ let me fuck you raw?” Soobin inquires, not wanting to make assumptions.

“Yeah, I trust you,” you reply with conviction.

“You’re a dream,” Soobin chuckles and nudges the head of his cock against your moist entrance. You brace yourself for some level of discomfort and are surprised that it doesn’t come right away. Soobin takes his sweet time getting inside you, making sure you’re okay.

“Fuck, Soob, you're so big,” you moan, already feeling overstimulated.

“This is just the tip, baby,” he explains shyly, which makes you lose your mind.

Soobin goes deeper very slowly, making you feel every inch, stretching you out bit by bit.

“How much more?” you ask somewhat impatiently.

“Just a little bit. Can’t help it that your pussy is so tiny,” he teases you.

“Not my fault your dick is so gigantic,” you bite right back.

“I promise, I'll try my best not to split you in half,” Soobin jokes, which does little to ease your worries, but at the same time only makes you wetter.

“Keep talking to me,” you plead for him.

“Does it hurt?” he wants to know, as he keeps entering you further.

“It’s a good kind of hurt,” you explain, wincing slightly.

Once you’ve gotten used to it, you signal to Soobin that he can start moving and he does just that, fucking into you with an impressive speed. You try to meet him halfway, lifting your hips up for him, melting into one.

“You’re taking it so well, my darling best friend,” Soobin praises you relentlessly.

“Anything for you, Soobie,” you cry out in sweet bliss.

“I’m close,” Soobin confesses soon enough.

“Fill me up,” you beg him, almost in a daze, deeply affected by his overpowering presence.

He doesn’t need to be asked twice and spills his seed inside of you. It feels so good that you cum with him, walls clenching around his enormous dick. Soobin leans down to kiss you, further blurring the lines between friendship and…whatever this is.

Then, he takes his cock out and you realize something far more terrifying than his intimidating size - you are falling in love with your best friend.

Soobin quickly brings a towel and a bottle of water, taking care of you like no one else before. You want to cry, touched by his sweetness and falling even further.

“How do you feel?” Soobin brushes a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I feel…like I'm on another planet,” you confess shakily.

Soobin chuckles, visibly relieved to hear that.

“You’re so cute,” he murmurs, enveloping you in a hug. His large frame towers over you and if it was anyone else, you’d probably feel slightly threatened. But this is Soobin, and even though he just fucked your brains out, you feel completely safe and protected. Safe enough to be honest about how you feel.

“I know I promised not to be weird about it but…I don’t think I can go back to being friends.”

Soobin pales for a moment, scared of losing you.

“Why not?” he blinks, barely restraining his tears.

“I wanna belong to you,” you try to ease his worries by openly saying what your heart and soul desire.

“Oh…But baby, you already do,” Soobin suddenly beams with excitement. “And I belong to you, too.”

“I think you killed me a little,” you laugh. “Killed my pussy with your big cock and ruined me for other men.”

Soobin raises an eyebrow.

“Bold of you to assume that I’d let other men near your pussy. You’re all mine now.”

The End

[gtgbabie0]

{Bringing Mechanic!Vi some lunch to work}

This is so small. I yearn to be this woman’s wife, it’s not even funny anymore.

Honestly, you didn’t think Violet was aware of just how stupidly attractive she was— she’d say you’re just biased, that you’re her girlfriend so “yeah duh of course you’d say that.” This, however, was on a whole different level. She wasn’t even doing anything crazy, but the way her muscles flex beneath a thin, sheen layer of sweat, toned arms propped up on either side of a car she’s currently fixing— hood popped up to reveal all the inner workings of the engine, tongue running along her teeth in focus. It made you go all hot under the collar

Mouth going dry as you let your eager eyes trail over her shoulder blades. The filthy, oil-stained tank top sticking to her solid frame— how the dark ink of her back tattoo moves with her every time she reaches to fiddle with something. It was dizzying, she was dizzying. You have to clear your throat, accidentally jostling her from her concentration.

Her head snaps over to your direction, soft blue eyes lighting up in surprise. “Oh— hey there pretty lady.” A wide, charming smirk stretches across her plump lips.

You stutter, mouth opening and closing in equal surprise at having just been caught ogling at your girlfriend in all her blue collar glory— you try to play it off with a small chuckle. “Hi!” You squeak, tongue darting out to wet your lips. “You- erm- you forgot your lunch… so I brought it to you.”

But she’s onto you, you were an open book.

“You been checking me out princess?” Her smirks widen with a burst of pride, pointed canine glinting. You shake your head ‘no’ but your nervous giggles give you away and just like that she's got you all figured out— “So how long have you been standing there exactly?”

“Not long— I— I just got here, Vander let me in.”

“Ah right, right, so if I go check the security cameras—” She steps closer, eyes fixed onto you. “—I’m not gonna see you standing here drooling for five minutes?”

You gawuff a scoff, heart jumping several beats. “No, you will not.” It’s a meek lie and it only makes your girlfriend chuckle in amusement. “Do you want your lunch or not?” You huff, desperate for a change of topic, she thought it was adorable.

“Mhm, yeah, m’starivin’ baby. Been on my feet all damn day.” She sighs, earning a sympathetic pout from you— watching as you rummage through your bag to pull out her lunch box. A plastic tub containing some cut up fruit and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a little sugary pick me up was just what she needed.

Violet takes her lunch, placing it down on the metal desk, which was a mess— scattered with all types of different tools and bolts and a few sticky notes.

“Oh you’re an angel, what’d I do without you hmm?” She’s practically beaming at you now, wiping her dirty hands with a rag before slinging the fabric over her shoulder— the sight makes your heart jump pathetically. “C’mere give me a kiss.”

A bashful gleam twinkles through your eyes as she lightly pinches your chin between her thumb and forefinger— leaning in to brush a tender kiss to the corner of your mouth, murmuring an affectionate “Thank you baby.” against your lips.

“Yeah, of course— anytime.” You reply in between loving pecks, face scrunching up slightly as she presses one last kiss to the tip of your nose.

“You gonna keep my company?” She asks, pulling you up a chair— the metal legs scraping against the garage floor. “I wanna hear bout your day, princess.” Vi leans up against her desk, unwrapping her sandwich with an appreciative smile as you take a seat and begin your ramblings— she’d hang on to your every word.

[car-o-line]

HIII!!! I LOVE YOU'RE POPPY PLAYTIME WORK SO MUCH!!! Could you do a jack kevin and matthew where the reader was jacks younger sibling and came back to the factor years later in there teens and a little reunite with each other (I NEED THEM TO BE BROUGHT OUT OF THE FACTORY AND READER SAYING TO DOEY BEACUSE THEY ARE 3 KIDS "So does that mean I have 3 brothers now?" Or somtehing like that sorry for this being long lol)

THE POPPY PLAYTIME STREAK CONTINUES🙏🙏🙏 this is literally adorable, if y/n and Jack are happy then I’m happy as well.

The Doey consciences with Jacks younger sibling who reunites with him<3

Info:

I think Jack is around 8 or something, so for the sake of that let’s just say that he was born in 1985 and made into Doey in 1993.

You were 4 years younger than Jack so you were 4 when he “passed” away.

Now you’re 13 and the reason you’re at Playcare is because you turned into an orphan there when erm, Kevin(I think) killed both your and Jacks parents.

You weren’t brought down to the labs like the other orphans, instead you snuck away from the Prototypes sight and paired up with Poppy to save the other orphans.

Sorry if this makes no sense, y/n lore is weird.

Also this is me editing, half of Jacks stuff is based about a whole ton of things so sorry about that😭

Jack Ayers:

He adored you when he had a normal life.

He would always be excited to play games or toys with you even if the toys you chose weren’t to his liking.

You were actually at the Playtime visit when Jack fell into the vat of dough, but the memory was so vague you could barely remember it.

All you knew is that your older brother, who wasn’t even that old, had gotten into an accident at the Playtime facility.

Then your parents got a call, a call to come visit the factory and see their “son” again. It would lead to their demise.

“Yes. It’s mommy and daddy and y/n! you remember, don’t you?”

“Leave. Me. Alone.”

“Hey. Hey, you’ll be okay. I promise. Mommy’s only here to talk.”

“No, no I don’t WANT to talk. Get out!”

“Susan, I think we should leave…”

“Jackie, I’m staying right here. I’m not leaving you. Not ever again, do you hear me?”

“The gentle voices lie. I know what they do, they lie..and they poke..and they hurt!”

“Mommy won’t lie to you, mommy won’t hurt you. I’d never hurt you-”

“Hey… hey open this door! Oh god, Susan! PLEASE OPEN THE DOOR LET Y/N AND I OUT! PLEASE-”

Unfortunately, both your mother and father died during that incident, that’s how you could recall everything. Their death was recorded on the VHS tape.

You were saved by a scientist who grabbed you out the last minute before Doey could do any harm to you.

After that you were brought down to the orphanage.

Fast forward into when you run into Pianosaurus and he tried to attack you.

And we all know what happened to him :(

But it’s okay because he wanted to kill you(I’m gaslighting myself rn)

Anyway! Matthew who was in charge at the time was shocked to see a child who was barely even a teenager.

So, he lead you to Safe Haven right away, he didn’t need a kid to be doing tasks for him and Poppy.

You went with him without resistance because even if you didn’t admit it, you were tired as hell.

You rested up in Safe Haven, unlike the player the toys were actually welcoming towards you. Some even recognized you as their past friend.

But there was a specific boy who recognized you more than anyone.

“I know them..I love them.”

“Huh..? Jack, you just met Y/n.”

“Y/n..y/n Ayers. Y/n Ayers right?!”

My boy was saying that out of excitement.

He let his emotions take him over and immediately went to go find you.

He was a bit overwhelming to say the least, Matthew had to calm him down.

Eventually he did calm down and Matthew and Kevin left him in control so he could speak with you as his brother.

He sat down on the ground while you laid in one of the Safe Haven beds. He grabbed your hand in his and played with your finger tips, curious.

You both talked for a bit, he apologized profusely for everything you’ve been through.

He told you about Matthew and Kevin, to which you asked if that meant that you have 3 brothers now. He pouted for a moment before nodding slightly, if it also went by his logic they were also his brothers. So it’d make sense that they’re your brothers as well.

Matthew Hallard:

Okay first off.

He’s pissed at Poppy for letting a CHILD do her dirty work for her, so he’ll definitely have a discussion with her about that later.

He’s more focused on not letting you out of Safe Haven for now, trying to make sure you’re as comfortable as you can be in a place like this.

Then he overheard something odd from Jack, talking to Kevin.

“We they were tinier, I’d let them ride my back like a horse..they really liked it.”

“Hm.”

“When who was younger Jack?”

“Me and Y/n! They’re my family!”

He immediately whipped his head towards him, calling a “I’m sorry?” at that.

It makes him remember when those people came by, saying Jack was their son. And a little child in their father’s arms, that was you. They killed your parents.

Either you didn’t mention it or completely forgot since it was long ago, either way he felt horrible. Even if it wasn’t directly his fault, he was part of the reason you were here. In this hell.

He made extra sure to treat you as gently and as kindly as he could, and make Kevin behave himself around you. He thought that it could bring flashbacks that you don’t want to remember.

Once you figured out about Jack being part of Doey, and talked with him a bit, Matthew asked you a few questions himself.

Nothing deep, just what your favorite animal was, or your favorite toy at Playtime was. Just a few icebreakers.

When you asked him if him and Kevin were basically your brothers now since they’re apart of Jack he gave you a wink and his signature smile.

(he thought you were too cute he could die)

“Of course!! Everyone here is family, especially us four.”

Kevin Barnes:

Like Matthew, Kevin was a bit pressed about Poppy having such a young person to fill out her list of commands, but he wasn’t too upset that he had to scream at her about it, he just thought she was stupid. Because, thinking logically, they were all kids. So what’s one more going to change?

He was wrong🫶

He was..more tolerant around you. Matthew tells him that you’ve been through enough already and that you needed to stay in Safe Haven and get rest, and he actually agreed with that himself.

Butttttttttttttt, he’s more thoughtful about he, Matthew and Jack, more than a teenager he just met.

That was until Jack said something about you.

“Kevin! Let me tell you something!”

“No-”

“I know Y/n!”

“Me too.”

“No, like before everything! They’re my family!”

“What.”

So that’s how Kevin started to pity you<3

He took the liberty of asking Matthew about you, information that he got from Jack..and that odd VHS tape.

Just because he finds you tolerable, that doesn’t mean he likes you(he loves you like you a sibling and he hates it)

So when you asked him if that since Jack is your brother, and that he’s stuck with him and Matthew that makes you and him siblings to.

His eyes watered a bit but shhhh(he needs a hug)

He still said you were a dumbo.

#Kevin’sLoveLanguage

I hate my life my writing was way too confusing to be this long😭

[honeyryewhiskey]

mirrored souls

or, dean dreams of what he believes he can never have. warnings ! angst, hurt/some comfort, dean's feelings are hurt, unexpected pregnancy, tough conversations, two ppl with the same fears j's note ! hey so let's not even talk about the fact that this is neither of the two fics i posted snippets of lol idk what possessed me to write 5k fucking words for this i'm sorry i just want to baby trap dean winchester erm idk enjoy? it's sad but maybe pls dont take my word for it i'll continue this and let them be happy also i stopped proof reading half way through bc it is my bed time <3 5k words

He’s had this dream every night for weeks. 

The sun is golden, thick with warmth, stretching over endless fields of green. It settles on his skin like an old friend, seeps into his bones, loosening the ever-present tension in his shoulders. The air is clean, carrying the scent of wildflowers and summer, and for the first time in his life, he feels safe. Like he could lie back in the grass, close his eyes, and let the world move on without him.

Then, he hears her.

A laugh—small and weightless, like wind chimes in a summer breeze—rings through the stillness. It stops him cold, strikes something deep in his chest that he doesn’t know how to name.

He turns, and she’s there.

She can’t be older than four, standing barefoot in the grass, staring up at him with wide, curious eyes—green as polished emeralds, too big for her little face. His eyes.

But everything else—her delicate nose, the slope of her cheekbones, the way her wild hair frames her face—that’s you.

She tilts her head, smiling in a way that makes something inside him shatter. Then she reaches for him, small fingers wrapping around his calloused hand like she’s always belonged there.

And just like that—like the break of a wave, like the snap of a thread—she’s gone.

Dean wakes with a sharp inhale, the remnants of warmth already fading, replaced by the cold press of reality. His chest aches, heavy with something deeper than longing. A quiet, creeping fear slithers in, curling around his ribs.

Because she has his eyes and your face—a combination that will never exist.

You left. And you haven’t come back in months.

It was always cat and mouse with you—years of fleeting moments, an unspoken desire for more that neither of you had the courage to face. You’d cross paths, use each other's bodies to release some tension, but never linger long enough to ignite anything real. 

Until about eight months ago, when everything changed. You stayed longer than just a weekend. Dean had you in his arms for four months—four months that felt like a lifetime of stolen moments, of finally letting down walls you both had built so high. But when it all started to feel too real, when the weight of it all settled between you like an unspoken truth, you pulled away. You told him it was too much, that you needed space, that you couldn’t do it anymore. You needed to breathe, to step back before it swallowed you whole. And with that, you walked away, leaving him to sift through the pieces of something that was never meant to last.

His heavy hand slams down on the bleating alarm clock beside his bed. The sharp noise cuts off, leaving only the ragged sound of his breathing in the dark. He drags a hand down his face, fingers pressing into his tired eyes, but it doesn’t do anything to clear the remnants of the dream—the sunlight, the laughter, the way she looked at him like he was her whole damn world.

Dean exhales sharply and swings his legs over the side of the bed. Another short night, another dream of something that doesn’t exist, of someone who will never be real. He tells himself it’s just a trick of the mind, a byproduct of too many years spent running on empty. But the truth—the one he won’t say out loud—is that the dreams never started until you left.

And maybe that’s what makes them feel more like a haunting than a fantasy.

He’s spent each day the past four months trying to shove it down, burying it under booze and hunts and half-hearted distractions. But it doesn’t matter how many times he tells himself he’s over it, that he saw it coming. Because he did. He knew you would run the second things got too real, the second you got too close, too comfortable, like maybe you wanted this life with him.

And then, just like his dream, you were gone.

You never said it outright, but he knew—deep down, you were always more like him than you wanted to admit. Built for the road, for the chase. Love wasn’t something you stayed for.

Except you never really left, not completely.

Every now and then, his phone would ring, and it’d be your voice on the other end—casual, distant, asking about a hunt, about a lead on something nasty you were tracking. Always avoiding the bigger conversation, never asking how he’s been, never giving him the chance to ask where you are.

And Dean let it happen. Let you keep him at arm’s length. Because at least this way, you were still something in his life.

But now, sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands, the dream still fresh in his mind, it pisses him off.

He stands, yanking on a t-shirt and running a hand through his hair before heading for the door. He just needs coffee—something to shake off the lingering ache sitting heavy in his chest.

But the second he steps into the hall, Sam is there, hovering with that anxious look that never means anything good.

“Hey,” Sam starts, lifting a hand like he’s trying to calm a wild animal. “Before you go in there, just—don’t freak out, okay?”

Dean’s stomach tightens, his muscles tensing. The look he cuts Sam with makes the younger brother’s eyes widen, searching for words to mediate and settle the storm brewing at either side of him. “Sam, what the hell are you—”

Before Sam can answer, Dean hears it.

The sound of pacing. Quick, uneven steps against the kitchen floor. His body goes still, his breath catching in his throat. He doesn’t need to see you to know.

You’re here.

Dean’s pulse pounds in his ears. His stubborn rage choking out the glimmer of childish hope that sets his nerves on fire. He stares at Sam, waiting for some kind of explanation, but Sam just shifts on his feet, uneasy.

That’s when another sound cuts through the silence—your voice.

Muffled, pacing, like you’re muttering to yourself between shallow breaths.

Dean swallows hard, his jaw clenching as he pushes past Sam. His mind is already racing, his thoughts a tangled mess of you, his dreams, his heartache and the damn voice in his head telling him to grip you tight enough so that you can’t leave him again. Whatever this is, whatever brought you back, he’s not in the mood for it. Not today. Not after all this time.

But when he steps into the kitchen, the world tilts on its axis.

You freeze mid-step, eyes wide, hands curled tightly around the edge of the counter as if you’re holding yourself together, bracing for something. For him, maybe. Your posture is rigid, your whole body taut with tension. You look… different. There’s an unreadable heaviness in the way you stand, the nervous bite of your lip as you chew it—like you’re preparing for a blow, for him to lash out, to reject you. 

A heavy silence falls over the room, thick and suffocating. His heart hammers in his chest, but there’s no anger now, no easy target to aim it at. Just this painful, aching pull between what he wants and what he’s afraid to hope for.

“You…” He’s barely able to get the word out. His throat feels tight, words caught somewhere between anger and something much softer, something more dangerous. He’s not sure which one is scarier.

You glance at him, then quickly look away, the uncertainty in your eyes like a crack in a mirror he never thought he’d see. Dean feels something in his chest twist—familiar, painful, like it’s been waiting for you to come back and break him open all over again.

His mind is a whirlwind. He wants to be angry—hell, he’s had four months of anger built up over your disappearing act. But standing here, with you so close, he realizes just how torn he is inside.

He wants to scream at you, demand to know why you didn’t come back sooner, why you couldn’t have just stayed. But that’s not the real question, is it? Because deep down, a part of him knows it wasn’t just you who ran. It was him, too. He shut off long ago, convincing himself it was easier that way. He was easier that way.

But you? You always seemed to slip through his defenses.

Dean stares at you, struggling to find his voice, his hands suddenly feeling useless at his sides. The walls he’s built up for his entire life—years of anger, bitterness, and pain—are cracking, piece by piece, and he has no idea how to stop it.

Dean crosses his arms, trying to shove down the storm already brewing inside him. “Well,” his voice is rough with sleep and something dangerously close to hurt. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

Your spine straightens, and just like that, the tension shifts. Whatever nerves had you pacing seconds ago are buried under the sharp edge of your own attitude. “Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly plan on it either.”

Dean scoffs, a bitter chuckle, the undertone to the eye roll he throws you. “Oh, great. That makes me feel real special.”

“I…” You hesitate, fingers digging into the edge of the counter before you let out a deep sigh. “I don’t know what I’m doing here, Dean. I don’t know if this is the right thing, or if I’m just—” you stop yourself, biting your lip again. You were never as good as he was at hiding your pain. It’s evident now, in the vulnerability in your eyes that cuts through him, raw and unguarded, and it makes everything inside him spin faster.

Sam clears his throat. “Why don’t I give you guys some space?” He glances between the two of you, clearly ready to escape the tension.

Dean doesn’t look at him, just stares at you as you stand firm, the scowl on your face trying desperately to cover the sadness in your eyes. The fact that you’re asking for anything at all should piss him off. After months of the half-hearted check-ins that only ever came when you needed something, after the way you left—why should he give you the time of day?

But he can’t say no.

And that scares him more than anything.

Sam nods to himself when neither of you protest and slips out of the kitchen, leaving you and Dean in thick, suffocating silence.

“Why are you here?” His voice comes out quieter than he intended, but the question hangs in the air, laced with something deeper, something that sounds too much like hope. A falsehood he’s terrified to acknowledge.

You take a shaky breath, your shoulders slumping just slightly, as if the weight of being in the same room as him is too much to carry alone.

Dean takes a step toward you, his feet heavy on the floor, his chest aching. His instincts shout at him to pull away, to protect himself from the inevitable hurt, but something else—something buried deep inside him—begs him to go closer.

The words come out before he can stop them, quieter now, barely a whisper. “I don’t know if I can do this again, are we gonna keep pretending we have nothing to talk about?”

You wince, a flicker of pain crossing your face, and it rips through him. He wasn’t trying to hurt you, but he can’t stop the words. He can’t stop the fear, the resentment, that’s built up over all this time.

"I don't know if I can just act like nothing ever happened between us. Like you didn't leave me. Like..." His voice breaks off, his throat thick with emotion he’s been swallowing for far too long. He’s not even sure who he’s trying to convince anymore, you or himself.

His hands are trembling now, and he clenches them into fists, fighting to keep the storm inside him contained. But every time he looks at you, sees the way you’re standing before him, so tired and lacking the fire that he always adored. That you’re here now when he never thought he’d see you again, it pulls him under a wave of emotion he can’t quite place.

“I don’t know how to do this, not after everything,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse. “You can’t just waltz back in here and expect me to be okay with it.”

Your eyes fill with regret, but there's something else too—a quiet understanding. You know what you’ve done. You know what this looks like, but still, you're standing here. And that small, painful spark of hope flickers in the pit of his stomach.

“Can we just sit and talk, please?” Your voice is soft, pleading. And this time, you don’t look away.

Dean stands there, his whole body tense, his mind screaming conflicting words in the crosshairs—walk away, stay. But something in your gaze, in your quiet desperation, tugs at him. For a moment, he’s paralyzed—conflicted in the most unfamiliar way.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, he nods. “Fine. But we talk,” he jabs a finger at you, his brows set with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat, “really talk. No more running.”

You nod, your shoulders relaxing, just slightly, and Dean wonders, not for the first time, if maybe—just maybe—he’s still capable of believing in the possibility of this. Of you.

His eyes narrow, the weight of years of unresolved anger and hurt pressing down on him. But despite it all, despite everything you put him through, he can’t seem to dig his heels into this anger. Not when you’re standing here, so close, with those big, pleading eyes that always seemed to strip him bare.

The years of touch and go, the broken promises, the words left unsaid—they all float between you, a suffocating fog that neither of you knows how to break. But Dean’s tired. Tired of fighting this pull, this pull toward you he can’t seem to ignore, no matter how many times you leave.

With a frustrated sigh, he crosses the kitchen, the hard floor beneath his boots clacking louder than it should. He grabs two chairs from the worn wooden table, scraping them across the linoleum as he sets them down. Wordlessly, he nods toward the seat beside him.

“Sit,” he mutters, his voice rougher than he meant it to be.

You stand there for a moment, the air between you thick with things left unsaid. And then, quietly, you take the seat next to him.

Dean can feel the weight of the moment in every fiber of his being. He doesn’t want to look at you. Not yet. Not until he’s ready to hear whatever it is you came to say.

The silence stretches on, thick and uncomfortable, as you sit side by side, neither of you knowing how to begin.

Finally, you clear your throat, a small sound, but it’s enough to break through the tension. “Look, I know I don’t have the right to ask you for anything. But… can we just talk, like we used to? No games. No running away this time, okay?”

Dean stares at the table in front of him, his fingers tapping restlessly against the edge. Your words hit harder than he expected, and for a second, his chest tightens with something raw and unfamiliar.

“I don’t know how to do this anymore, you know?” he says quietly, almost to himself. “Every time you leave… it’s like you take a piece of me with you. And I’m just left here picking up the pieces, wondering if you’ll ever come back.”

You wince at the admission, and it hits him harder than he wants to admit. He doesn’t know why he said it—maybe because this is the first time in years that you’re actually sitting here, facing him. Maybe because it’s the first time in years that he feels like you might actually be willing to stay.

You reach out, placing a tentative hand on his, stilling the tapping. And for a brief moment, his breath catches.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Dean,” you say softly. “I never wanted to be another person who hurts you.”

to forget the months of silence, the aching space you left behind. He wants to pull you close, bury his face in your neck, and pretend none of it ever happened—that you never walked away, that he never let you.

But reality crashes down just as fast.

He can’t let himself go there, can’t let himself believe this is something he can have without it slipping through his fingers. So instead, he exhales sharply, shoving that fragile part of himself deep down where it belongs. His jaw tightens, and when he finally speaks, his voice is rough, edged with his angry armor.

“Then why did you leave?” he grits out, his voice quiet but commanding. He needs to know. Needs to understand why the person he thought he might finally let himself love disappeared without a trace.

You pull your hand back, lips pressed tight. “I—”

The silence stretches between you, thick and heavy, like the weight of months spent apart. Dean’s still trying to wrap his head around what’s happening, why you’re here, why you’re sitting beside him, but something shifts in your expression.

You take a deep breath, eyes falling to your lap before lifting to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you say, the words soft but full of weight. “I’m sorry for always running off. For disappearing when things got too real. I know it’s not fair.”

Dean’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t interrupt. He doesn’t know what to say, what to feel.

“I was scared,” you continue, voice breaking just a little. “I still am. I…” Your words falter, but then you press on, searching his eyes for understanding. “I was consumed with this fear of losing it all. That I’d attach myself to you and this life would rip you away.”

The quiet admission sits heavy in the air. Dean feels his heart thudding faster beneath his rib cage. A pang of regret washes over him, for never admitting he shared that fear. That he thought he would be the thing that rips you apart. And maybe if he had, you wouldn’t have felt alone in those thoughts. 

You run a hand through your hair, a nervous gesture, and he watches the movement, the tension in your body. “I didn’t think I could do this. I didn’t think we could do this. I don’t see a world where something like that survives,” you shake your head, lost in the thoughts that shuffle through as you try to find your words, “Where… where we get a happy ending.”

Dean feels his chest tighten, his pulse speeding up as he takes in what you’re saying. The words hang between you, both of you holding your breath. And for a long, painful moment, the only sound in the room is the distant hum of the refrigerator, a constant reminder that time is still moving, even when it feels like everything’s frozen in place.

“I’m not saying that I don’t want it, Dean,” you add quickly, your voice cracking. “I just—I don’t know how to believe it’s possible. But I didn’t come here to ask for you to take me back.”

Dean stares at you, his pulse hammering against his ribs. There it is—that damn crack in your voice, the one that always cuts through him like a blade. He wants to be angry, to hold onto the bitterness that’s been festering since you left, but it slips through his fingers the second he sees the way you’re looking at him. Like you’re scared. Like you don’t expect him to want this.

Like you don’t expect him to want you.

His throat tightens, his fists clenching at his sides as he fights the urge to reach for you. “Then what do you want?” His voice is quieter now, rougher. “If you’re not here to ask me for anything, then why come back?”

You open your mouth, then close it, searching for words. Your fingers twist in the hem of your jacket, your shoulders curling inward, like you’re bracing for him to tear you apart. And damn it, that does something to him, because he’s never wanted to be the reason you look like that.

Dean drags a hand down his face, trying to ground himself. His mind is a battlefield, waging war between the fear clawing at his insides and the need to fix this—fix you. But how the hell is he supposed to do that when he’s still not sure how to fix himself?

“You don’t know how to believe it’s possible?” He scoffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, join the damn club.” His chest feels too tight, his voice breaking under the weight of it. “You think I had some fairytale idea of us, sweetheart? That I thought this would be easy?” He lets out a breath that’s more of a laugh, humorless and hollow. “Hell, I don’t even know if I’d be any good at this. But you didn’t give me the chance to figure it out, did you?”

Your eyes squeeze shut, a tear slipping down your cheek before you can stop it. And God, he hates that. He hates seeing you cry. Hates even more that he’s the reason for it.

“I was scared,” you whisper, your voice breaking apart like shattered glass. “I am scared.”

Dean swallows hard, his anger flickering, giving way to something deeper, something more painful. He’s scared too. He’s scared as hell. Of not being enough. Of screwing this up. Of losing you all over again.

But when he looks at you—when he sees the way you’re trembling, barely holding yourself together—it hits him. He’s not the only one drowning in this.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair before finally, finally stepping forward. His hands hover for a second before settling on your arms, grounding you. Grounding himself.

“Yeah, well,” he mutters, softer now, “I guess we can be scared together.”

You drag the backs of your hands across your cheeks, trying to contain the tears that just won’t stop flowing. “No, Dean, you don’t get it—” you cut yourself off with a groan. Your breathing is coming out uneven as anxiety pulls at your every nerve, and suddenly you can’t sit still. You can’t do this. 

You’re up on your feet again, pacing slightly as you try to steady your breathing. 

Dean watches you, his stomach twisting as you distance yourself. There’s a wild, frantic energy in the way you move, your arms wrapping around yourself like you’re trying to hold yourself together. Your breath is uneven, shaky, and those damn tears keep slipping past your lashes no matter how hard you try to blink them away.

His fingers twitch at his sides, itching to reach for you again, to do something—anything—to stop that panicked look from overtaking your face. It melts his resolve, steadies his rising temper.

His voice comes quieter this time, hesitant. “Hey—what’s going on?”

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you press the heels of your hands into your eyes, shaking your head as if you can will away whatever storm is raging inside you.

Dean’s chest tightens. His mind is running through every possibility, each one worse than the last. “Sweetheart,” he tries again, the pet name easing off his tongue as if no time had passed since he last called you that, “talk to me.”

"I... I didn't catch it in time, I'm sorry." You start, your voice barely more than a whisper, the words thick with something he can't quite name. Your eyes squeeze shut as if the simple act of speaking is too much.

Dean’s chest tightens, a knot of confusion twisting in his stomach. “What the hell are you talking about?” His tone is gentle now, trying to coax it out of you, but the moment you raise your eyes, he sees it—the fear, raw and trembling beneath the surface.

He’s on his feet again, closing in on you like you’re a scared animal that’ll take flight from any sudden movement. 

“I just thought it was stress making me miss my period again, but…” You choke, your voice cracking as if admitting it out loud is tearing something inside you apart.

Dean’s breath hitches, and his heart races, but he doesn’t dare interrupt you, his own confusion giving way to a growing sense of dread. He takes another step toward you, but you flinch, eyes shimmering with tears that slip through your heavy breathing.

You finally break, the tears turning into sobs that shake your shoulders. You shake your head, wiping at your face again, as if trying to push it all away. But it’s too late now.

“I’m scared, D.” You gasp the words out, the weight of them crushing you. “I’m so scared.”

Dean’s chest tightens, a cold sensation creeping down his spine, even as his heart lurches in his chest. He can feel the tremor in your voice, the rawness in every syllable, but he can’t make sense of it. The world seems to slow, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place—but not quickly enough for his mind to catch up.

“What… What are you saying?” He asks, his voice quiet, strained with confusion and something that feels dangerously close to panic.

You glance up at him, eyes wide and glassy with tears. You open your mouth, but the words seem stuck, lodged in your throat. The silence between you is deafening.

Finally, you take a deep breath, almost like you’re gathering the strength to face something unbearable. “I’m pregnant, Dean.” The words fall from your lips in a broken whisper. “I’m pregnant.”

Dean freezes. His entire body goes still, as though he’s forgotten how to breathe. The weight of your words hits him like a freight train, and for a moment, everything goes silent except for the pounding of his own heart in his ears.

Pregnant.

His mouth goes dry, his thoughts scrambling, trying to make sense of it all. The pieces click into place—the missed periods, the way you looked at him when you walked in, the way you wouldn’t meet his eyes.

His dreams.

 He takes a half-step back, his mind too far behind, too rattled by the weight of what you just said.

And then, slowly, it hits him—this isn’t just a shock; it’s a bombshell. One that could tear everything apart, and yet, at the same time, it pulls something from him that he hasn’t felt in a long time. The edges of his world begin to blur. He’s scared. He’s terrified.

“Are you… are you sure?” His voice comes out rough, almost panicked, like he’s waiting for you to tell him this is some sick joke, but he knows it’s not.

You nod, sniffling. "I took a test, I went to the doctor and they told me I was already four months along." you whisper, choking back a sob. "I didn’t know what to do."

Dean steps closer, his hand instinctively reaching out to steady you. But you flinch again, the space between you thick with everything you’ve never said to him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how to tell you. I could have just called, I should have—” Your voice cracks, and you finally meet his gaze, eyes full of everything—regret, fear, and a raw, aching vulnerability that threatens to break him.

Dean's heart races, the panic starting to crawl up his throat. He wants to scream, to tell you that he’s terrified—that he doesn’t know how to be a father, that he’s too broken, too fucked up to raise a kid. The thought of something happening to you, to your child, terrifies him in ways he can’t even put into words. But you’re standing there, so small, so vulnerable, looking at him like he’s the only one who can fix this. And damn it, he has to be strong.

He closes the distance between and pulls you into his arms before either of you can second guess it. His hands are warm and steady on your back, but inside, his mind is a storm. His pulse is erratic, his breath shallow, but he holds you close, trying to give you the comfort he doesn’t know how to find for himself.

“Hey,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice like a lighthouse to steer your sinking ship. “Everything’s gonna be okay. You’re not alone in this.”

You shake your head against his chest, a shaky breath escaping. “I’m so scared, Dean. I don’t know what to do.”

He pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, his expression soft but full of intensity. His thumbs pushes away your tears, warm and rough against your skin. “You don’t have to know right now,” he assures you, trying to convince himself as much as you. “We’ll figure it out. One step at a time. I’m here, okay? We’ll get through this.”

Inside, though, his mind is spinning out of control. He doesn’t know how to be the man you need. He doesn’t know if he can even be the father this child deserves. But in this moment, he’s all you have. And somehow, he knows that no matter how badly he’s freaking out, no matter how scared he is, he’ll find a way to make this work—for you, for the little life growing inside of you.

He gently strokes your hair, pressing his cheek to the top of your head, grounding himself in the act. “We’ll figure it out,” he whispers again, his voice thick with the promise of something more than just words.

But inside, the panic churns, a rising tide he can’t escape. He holds you tighter, pretending for your sake that everything will be fine, even as the weight of the world presses down on him.

edit to add tags why do i always forget tags @titsout4jackles @floralscented @deansbeer @snowluvvie @ultravi0lence14

[imperator-titus]

Favorite Party Banter [Gale Edition]

[Astarion (Ascended)] [Halsin/Jaheira] [Gale] [Karlach] [Lae'zel] [Minsc] [Minthara] [Shadowheart] [Wyll]

I often miss party banter because of party comp (and sometimes just straight up can't hear??) so here's a collection of my favorite bants while going through dialogue files. I know the wiki has the banter (most? all?) but I added the file names and dev notes.

Either Gale is the main speaker/subject or I think his reaction is good shit.

Not in any particular order.

[PB_Laezel_Gale_ROM_Act2]

Gale: So, Lae’zel - have you ever been tempted to use psionics in your, erm, romantic endeavors? {Devnote: Curiosity winning out over awkwardness}

Lae’zel: Only once. Did you know, in low-gravity settings, githyanki can maintain aerial suspension for hours at a time? {Devnote: cheekily}

Gale: Fascinating - I think the archmage Tasha described a spell with similar effect. I really must look that up… {Devnote: latter part almost to self}

[PB_Gale_Astarion_ROM_Act3_Spawn]

Gale: If you’re feeling faint after your bout with Cazador, Astarion, I don’t mind donating some blood. {Devnote: Sincere/Genuinely trying to help}

Astarion: When you’re still full of that Netherese bile? I’ll pass, thank you.

Astarion: Besides, I have someone else to nibble on. And they are delicious.

[PB_Gale_Shadowheart_Morgue]

Gale: Look at this place. Such horrors defy descriptions…{Devnote: In very bleak/grim surroundings}

Shadowheart: Silence can be best. Give it a try sometime. {Devnote: A little cheeky, though they’re in a grim place}

[PB_Gale_Shadowheart_ROM_Act3_Selune]

Gale: I must tell you, Shadowheart, the bathing waters here leave much to be desired. {Devnote: a bit know it all}

Gale: The ablutions offered at the Temple of Beauty in Waterdeep are far superior. And they have the most excellent soaps. 

Shadowheart: Hmm. I was wondering why you always smelled like a wealthy dowager. {Devnote: teasing}

[PB_Wyll_Gale_ROM_Act2]

Gale: I’ve heard that in Baldur’s Gate, ‘wizard’ is also a term used for one who eschews their more, ahem, carnal desires. Is that true, Wyll? {Devnote: Fishing for info, a bit annoyed about what he’s heard.}

Wyll: Where are we going with this, Gale?

Gale: Oh, nowhere. I just think it a rather cruel misnomer. Not at all reflective of the glamour wizarding life affords. {Devnote: A bit sulky/sensitive about it}

[PB_Gale_Astarion_ROM_Act2]

Gale: I fear I've been rather hasty to judge you, Astarion. {Devnote: sincere/sympathetic}

Gale: One heartbreak was quite enough for me, but to experience it as many times as you have must change a person.

Astarion: Thank you, Gale. Let us both hope that broken hearts are a thing of the past.

[PB_Karlach_Gale_BlushingMermaid]

Karlach: Man, it's good to be home. First round on who?

Gale: She who thirsts buys drink the first. {Devnote: Like it's a well-known saying}

Karlach: You won't pin me down with a rhyme, wizard! {Devnote: jockeying with Gale}

Gale: She who declines gets the worst of the wines.

[PB_Laezel_Gale_ROM_Act3_001]

Lae'zel: Gale, I've heard you talking in your sleep. Your mate needs better rest for our journey.

Gale: And deprive them of the pleasure of hearing my nocturnal postulations? I'd never be so cruel.

Gale: The mind absorbs much while we believe ourselves dormant. To lie beside Gale of Waterdeep is positively educational.

[PB_Karlach_Gale_ROM_Act1]

Gale: Karlach... a hypothetical question for you.

Gale: If someone - not me, of course - detected a hint of romantic interest in them from another, unnamed individual, what might that someone do about it?

Karlach: Whoever it is, just talk to them, Gale. And leave out the hypotheticals.

Gale: Talking. Right. I'm good at that.

[butterfluffy]

heard u were writing for haikyuu againnnn sooooo can i req ushiwaka as a bf?? maybe hcs or a short scenariooo

thankieeesss!! 🥰

·ू♡°.· { - as your bf ! }

content ! ౨ৎ — (HQ!!) | what would it be like having ushijima wakatoshi as your boyfriend? | hcs

pairing/s ! ౨ৎ — ushijima wakatoshi x gn!reader

tags/warnings ! ౨ৎ — none! just pure fluff and ushiwaka being the bestest boyfriend he could ever be. not proofread, so, typos and errors are present but i'm too lazy to deal w them... lowercase intended!

a/n ! ౨ৎ — AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH MY MANZ USHI. 😍🥰💗😍🫰😘😘😜🫰💗🤪 (i'm absolutely normal about him guys, i promise.) | requests are open!

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI as your boyfriend!

okay, i won't lie nor try to defend ushijima. he's totally clueless about relationships and dating. 'cause girl, all that's in his head is... well, volleyball....

but of course, for the sake of the headcanons and our delusions, let's break down how he would be as a lover.

i feel like ushijima would be a shy (or awkward, rather) lover at first, hesitating with initiating PDA or affection in general.

will explode red and flush with his face hotter than himself when kissed all of a sudden. don't take him by surprise! it's bad for his heart that would definitely explode from beating too fast and loud in his chest!! he's shyyyyy!!!

just give him time. he'll warm up soon enough to when he's finally comfortable with holding your hands! ..without his own sweating and turning colder than ice from tension and awkwardness, that is.

“...sorry. are my hands cold and sweaty? you can just cling into my arm if it's uncomfortable to hold hands with me.”

and as said on the first bullet, he has zero clue about romancing, so, you'd be the one in charge of it; making the first move in everything.

but despite that, you can teach him how to romance! he's a rather fast learner, as long as you teach ushiwaka everything that he needs to do or what you want him to do for you.

in no time, you'll find yourself to be greeted by the man on your doorstep, holding a bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates, and an invitation to go out on a date. ;)

“you mentioned that going out on dates every once in a while is important, no? so, let's go out? i also bought you flowers. your favorite.”

ushijma wakatoshi, though known to others as someone who is pretty stoic, is actually a real softie lover! w⁠(⁠°⁠ｏ⁠°⁠)⁠w

though outside, he's aloof, inside, however, is a different story. ushijima gets all clingy with you, not lasting a minute without you being in the same room as him.

“where were you? ...oh, in the bathroom? i see. i thought the monster in the closet that you claimed to see last night took you. kidding.”

LOOOOVESSS seeing you watch him play in his matches. he claims that whenever you watch him, he suddenly gets even more confident in his play. shows off a lot whenever you watch too.

“did you see me play? did you see my spike?” “yes toshi, you did great. very cool.” “*smug* i know i did great out there, because i knew you would watch.”

AN ABSOLUTE SUCKER FOR YOUR PRAISE AND VALIDATION!!!! spread the word, guys. ushijima wakatoshi loves getting praised. just love him. please. he'd melt. flushed cheeks and all that shii. though most of the time, he gets a little smug about it... don't worry, you can wipe it off with a kiss. he'll go redder than the blood that is rushing in his veins. 😜

he also becomes such a yapper as your relationship with him goes on. telling you about his day, volleyball practice, more volleyball stuff, training, etc.

he won't shut up, ong. 'cuz he's an awkward weirdo who may be on the, erm, spectrum and won't shut up about his hyperfixations. ehem, volleyball.

even though he's a yapper, he's also a listener! 10/10 would listen to you talk the whole day because he loves it when you yap to him. actively listens, reacting to your words here and there and giving his thoughts on them, yadayadayada. yapper x yapper, guys???

regarding the relationship, however, ushijima is a very private person. only a few knows that he's dating someone already, as he doesn't actively tell people that “oh, i'm in a relationship.”

i feel like he'd only reveal that he's in a relationship when asked... so, his mother found out that he's finally dating like, almost a year into the relationship. 'cuz he never mentioned it. and when his mother pointed that out, he retorted with, “you never asked?? 🫤🤨”

additionally, he strays away from social media. so, people really wouldn't know unless they ask. they'd just be shock to see a ring on ushiwaka's finger one day lmao.

^^no posts on his socmed accounts at all. faceless and full government name on his account and with less than 50 friends. only has social media accounts for the sole purpose of messaging and liking your posts.

still, he's updated with the latest trends and news, if you update him, that is. ushi will also participate in doing the trends with you. a lil' stiff though, but he's trying, yeah. no complaints at all.

“huh? i... i don't understand. what is ‘throw it back’ and how do i do it?”

ANYWAY, ushijima isn't really one to do endearments. be calls you by your name or a nickname he came up with. sometimes, you'll hear him call you “love” or “babe”.

there are also times that he gets insecure all of a sudden and begins to question if he's doing a good job on being your lover. would slightly panic if he feels that he's not doing enough. please assure him that he's doing amazing. 😞

during arguments, he talks things through. does not dare raise his voice. well—there are times that his voice gets a little loud, but he feels absolutely guilty and shitty after, so he apologizes.

and yes, he apologizes first, and even though you are the one at fault. doesn't like getting on a fight with you, so... 🤷‍♀️ but he does try to make you realize your mistake and hope to not start another argument while doing so. he'd get upset if that happens.

when upset, wakatoshi does not stay out of your sight, but, he's there. in the corner, sulking like a child in silence, looking at you with longing in his eyes, waiting for you to either woo him or for himself to not handle it anymore and apologize then cling to you once more.

doesn't say ‘i love you’ much. but he'll reciprocate each and every ‘i love you’ that you tell him! on rare occasions, he's the one saying ily first, especially when he feels that he's not saying the words much.

“baby?” “yes, wakatoshi?” “i love you.”

K BYE THAT'S ALL, I DON'T WANT THIS TO GO ON UNTIL 100 BULLETS, Y'ALL MIGHT SEE THROUGH HOW MUCH I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS MAN. 🏃‍♀️💨💨💨

© butterfluffy 2025

⠀⠀꒰🌷꒱₊ likes, comments, and/or reblogs are highly appreciated! i love reading comments and reblog tags/notes, hehe. (⁠ʃ⁠ƪ⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠）

[suugarbabe]

okay but firefighter! mattheo is stuck in my head and i can’t stop thinking about him saving your cat in a tree.

firefighter!mattheo x paramedic!enzo x reader who just wants their cat to be saved

an: funnily enough @musingsofahufflepuff and I have been yapping about this concept quite frequently so enjoy lovie!

Enzo pulled the Aid Car into the bay, trying (and failing) to hide the hint of smile on his face, “I cannot believe that woman actually threw a vase at you.” Mattheo ran a hand through his curls, fluffing and tugging as he spoke, “Yeah, well she was aiming for her husband behind me. Really didn’t want me to patch him up I s’pose.”

“Lunch is on me then, how’s that?” Enzo leans back in his seat, ready for Matty to declare where to go when a new alert tone sounds overhead.

Aid Car 96, wounded civilian on side of road

They both listen to the address that follows. “That’s just a couple blocks away,” Matty’s face now serious as Enzo shifts the aid car into gear, navigating the roads quickly to get to their next patient.

As they pull up to the area, they notice someone lying on the ground, clutching their arm. Enzo shifts the ambulance in park before they both jump out, running to the back to grab the necessary bags.

“I’ll take lead this round, just stay close incase I need you,” Enzo gave brief direction and he and Matty made their way to the injured civilian. As they got closer, Enzo couldn’t help but feel like he recognized them somehow.

Enzo set his bag on the ground not too far from where the person was laying, and now that he was kneeling right next to them, he realized it was you. The person from the elevator. “Well, what do we have here, hmm?”

You groaned when you realized a paramedic was now next to you, turning your head slightly to yell at the older woman behind you, “Really Carol? You called 911? I told you just gimme a minute to lie here and then I’d be fine!” You go to sit up, but Enzo is quick to stop you with gentle hands on your shoulders.

“Woah, hold on there, let’s not move just yet,” he can’t help but grin slightly at your rolling eyes; you comply nonetheless. His hands run along the side and back of your neck, fingertips putting light pressure in their exploration, “Any neck pain? How did you end up here on the ground like this?”

“They fell out of the tree! That’s why I called, they were on that higher branch and then just fell right on the sidewalk on their shoulder and started groaning,” Your neighbor answered for you, much to your annoyance.

Enzo must have sensed your frustration, “Erm, thank you ma’am but please give us some room, yeah?” Your neighbor nodded before backing away, but her explanation made a lightbulb go off in your head.

“My cat! Oh, god. You guys have to go get him, he ran up the tree and he hasn’t come down. I think he’s afraid of heights. Please, you have to get him,” you went to push yourself up off the ground, wincing slightly.

Enzo helped you sit up but shook his head, “Your cat is fine, they usually come down on their own.”

Your eyes only widened at this, “Do not tell me what my cat would usually do. He’s an indoor cat! Can’t he go get it? Please, you have to try!” You pointed at Mattheo.

Enzo noticed your chest starting to rise and fall more rapidly, panic obviously starting to set in.

He turned to look behind at Mattheo, making eye contact with his partner. Matty nodded, “Er, yeah. Yeah, okay I can go do that. I’m, erm, a great climber. Don’t worry, babe.” He gave an encouraging smile before walking towards the tree.

“Be careful! He doesn’t really like men he’s not used to!” your trying to peer around Enzo to give Matty more direction.

Enzo then holds your chin in his hand as he holds a flashlight in the other, “Eyes on me, please.”

Your eyes flick to his, strong and focused stare as he flashes light before you, “So…are you always so accident prone or you just having a hard month, love.”

You groan slightly, “So you do recognize me, then…” You’re pouting slightly out of the embarrassment of the situation. Enzo shifts his hand from your chin and lightly grabs your face, giving it a playful squeeze.

“Oh come now, none of that. It’s okay, I’m more than happy to take care of you,” Enzo’s smile was teasing, causing heat to rise to your cheeks.

He’s then moving on to your shoulder, gently feeling along your back and collarbone, “Scapula seems good, clavicle too..let’s see about..” He grabs hold of your wrist, his other hand cupping your shoulder as he slightly rotates your arm.

You feel pain immediately, not able to stop your verbal outburst, “Fucking hell, Enzo! Ow, ow!”

He gently moves your arm to a neutral position, your forearm now across your stomach, “Hold your arm still, just like this, okay? I have to grab a sling.”

As Enzo turns to look in his bag, a loud thunk of boots can be heard on the pavement. Both you and Enzo look over to see Matty holding a pretty orange cat, Matt’s webbing still tied around his thighs and hanging off the tree.

You almost gawk at the scene, your normally fiesty pet basically purring and nuzzling further into Matty’s embrace. A shit eating grin plasters itself on his face before he looks over to the two of you, “I think he likes me.”

Enzo rolls his eyes at the scene, grumbling under his breath as he maneuvers the sling over your head before settling your arm securely inside, “Well, at least he followed protocol - woah, hey where do you think you’re going?”

As soon as your arm is being held in place, you’re using your good arm to push up off the ground and hurrying over to where Mattheo stood, “Oh, look at you, my sweet boy I was so worried about you!”

Mattheo smiles almost proudly, “It was nothing, I’ve went up plenty of trees in my time.”

You stared at him incredulously, both eyebrows raised. Mattheo then cleared his throat awkwardly, “You, erm, meant the cat didn’t you..”

“Obviously,” You go to scoop your pet from his grasp, but Enzo is quick to intervene. He grabs your cat carefully, walking over to your neighbor and handing him over.

You’re ready to argue, starting to walk over there before Enzo holds up his hands, “Hey..hey, okay. I asked your neighbor to watch your fur son for a few hours because you have to come with us.”

You scoffed, “No I don’t, I’m fine! You gave me this sling!” You go to hold your arm out but immediately halt once you feel pain shooting through your shoulder again.

The pain must have been obvious, as even Mattheo was trying to convince you. “You really should come with us..would be better for you to get checked out at the hospital, just to make sure there’s not anything seriously wrong.”

He’s really pulling out all the stops to convince you, using his softest, sweetest tone and making his brown eyes stare at you like a puppy.

“Ugh, fine!” You turn on your heel sharply, all but stomping towards where the ambulance was parked.

Mattheo crossed his arms over his chest, turning to Enzo slightly, “You know, I think they might like me.”

Enzo snorted, bending down to gather his bag, “You’re delusional, Riddle.” Enzo stood, hoisting the bag over his shoulder, “It’s very clear that they like me better.” He then gave a condescending pat to Matty’s cheek before turning and following you.

[my-castles-crumbling]

fixate - @jegulus-microfic - word count: 343

"-can't just tell him, Pads!" James whispered, unaware Regulus was right outside of the classroom door. "Reg would-"

"No, Prongs! You can't just- just lie!" Sirius hissed. "He deserves-"

"I'm not lying!" James retorted. "Just...hiding my feelings!"

It was a that point that Regulus fled.

Of course, the more he tried not to think about it, the more his brain began to fixate. What was James lying about? What feelings? Did he secretly hate him? Want to break up with him? Think terribly of him?

He lasted four days before he burst.

"James, I need to ask you something," he choked out in the middle of snogging the older boy in a broom cupboard.

"Erm-yeah?" James responded, pulling back a bit, looking flushed and confused.

"You're hiding something. I heard you tell Sirius. The other day." Regulus stated, heart beating fast.

James's eyes widened. "That wasn't- it isn't-" he swallowed, "it wasn't about you, Reg."

"Bullocks!" Regulus retorted, feeling anger and panic swell in his chest. "You said my name! Merlin, James, whatever it is, just tell me, don't fucking lie!"

But James winced. "Reg, I don't want to mess things up. Things are good with us, please-"

"Well you're sure as hell going to mess them up if you keep things from me, yeah? Maybe we need to break up if you can't trust me!" Regulus half-shouted, truly nervous now. This was it. The whole thing had been to good to be true. He wasn't worthy of James and-

"I love you."

James's confession cut into Regulus's spiraling, rendering him speechless. "You- what?" he asked, shocked.

"I...I love you, Reg. I accidentally told Sirius and he wanted me to tell you but I was nervous because I didn't want to scare you off. Because fuck, I love you more than I thought could love a person, really," James rambled, looking terrified. "I just didn't want to lose you."

But Regulus replied without even having to process the words, tears starting to stream down his face slowly. "I love you, too."

[osakhee]

big bad wolf, bff's brother!sungchan x virgin!reader

! dom!sungchan, sungchan is a bit of a creep, corruption, size kink, slight LEGAL age gap (like 3-4 years), erm kinda incel mindset, it's a bit dark? i think?

note : i went a little insane with this (thank you cee for helping me turn my thoughts into fics)

you smiled when you pushed the front door of your best friend's house, like your second home. it's been years since you've known each other, you still spend as much time together as possible even though you don't follow the same paths anymore. when you walked in, you were met with sungchan. he gave you his usual soft greeting before you made your way into your friend's room.

you always looked up to sungchan. when you and your best friend were younger, he was your protector, the prince of your every story. growing up with your friend also meant growing up with their brother, and to you, he also felt like a close friend. you were glad you had a male friend that you could rely on, that could give you advices about life, and talk about his experiences so you were less scared to make your way into life.

sungchan obviously turned into a man. from the shy boy you used to play mario kart with after school, he became a gentle man that you could always count on when you had trouble. you need to get out of that party? sungchan could definitely pick you up. you need to push some guy away because he annoys you? no trouble, sungchan will put his arm around your shoulder and pretend your his.

you and your best friend both took separate paths after high school, but you stayed really close, and you would come over each time you had a few hours. you stopped seeing sungchan as much as before, busy with his studies and part time job. the house felt a little empty without his reassuring presence.

but things started to get off after your first year of university. not between you and your beloved friend, but between you and his sweet brother. sungchan would be home more often when you got inside, with the same soft smile he always had. you would be sitting in the living room, and sungchan would walk around as if he had to do something. when you get out of your friend's room, you would almost always bump into him in the corridor. he was everywhere, you could feel his eyes all the time checking your every move. but you never felt weird about it, he has always been the kindest man ever, so why would you think too much about it? it's also his home after all.

you decided to ignore the tension sungchan wanted to create, and it made him crazy. it only made his side of the situation more heavy, he craved to see how far he could go until you start questioning his behavior. it would be a lie to say sungchan wasn't obsessed with you. you slept in his bed once during a party, he kindly told you you could use his room if you got tired. when he got inside in the very early morning, he got stuck in front of your sleeping form. and when you left in the afternoon, he couldn't get enough of your scent that was clinging to his sheets and filled his room.

once, your best friend asked you to get a book from sungchan's room. you hadn't seen him since you got at your friend's house, so you assumed he wasn't home. the door was slightly opened, you didn't think much of it when you pushed it to get inside. the view in front of you made your breath stop. sungchan sat at his desk, shamelessly jerking off to the screen of his pc. when you got inside, he turned to you and stared straight into your eyes, he didn't stop his fast strokes on his hard length. he just kept the eye contact until you turned around to leave his room. sungchan came all over his fingers at the thought of your eyes traveling down his arms to watch him fisting his cock.

the sight of sungchan touching himself would pop in your mind each time you reached the door of your best friend's home. sungchan acted like nothing happened, he even apologized to you for his behavior, and none of you spoke about it ever again. he still showed you his natural kindness, and you were too blinded by your perfect vision of him to notice how his every touches were more than just accidental. you'd feel him press behind you to grab something in the higher shelves, his chest hitting your shoulders gently while his hips rested into yours. it lasted only a few seconds, but it was more than enough for sungchan, as long as he could feel your body close to his.

the next time you saw him, he wasn't wearing much clothes. sungchan made sure he'd walk into you each time he got out of the shower, or after a work out session. his hair damp and messy hid his eyes from you, but he could feel how you look down his chest and stomach, stopping yourself at the waistband of his boxers that disappeared into his sweatpants. even during those moments, sungchan would just greet you with a smile and disappear in his room. your friend rolled their eyes more than once and yelled at him to wear clothes when you're over.

the second time you saw his cock, you swear it was an accident again. you had spent the night speaking with your best friend about dating, having sexual relationships, and you realized you didn't know much. the last sexual thing you could recall was your friend's brother jerking off a few months ago. you shared with them how you never really kissed anyone, never had sex before, you really wanted to find someone special and not hook up at parties like a lot of people your age do. on the other side of the door, sungchan already felt himself hardening in his jeans at the thought of you being so perfectly pure and untouched. he heard you talk about shower, and he had just enough time to reach the bathroom when you opened the door of your best friend's room. of course, you never expected to be met with the sight of sungchan's hard cock glistening with precum when you got inside the bathroom. he had his eyes closed, his head resting on the cold shower wall, his pants opened just enough to pump himself as fast as he could. sungchan knew you were watching. he loved how long it took you this time to leave the room. long enough that you saw the exact moment cum shot from his tip and covered his hand, a low groan escaping him. the next time sungchan opened his eyes, the door was shut, and he was alone. but satisfied.

you were getting a little uncomfortable, but you always pushed it far inside the back of your mind. how could you think weirdly about him when he's the nicest guy you know, you just... happened to be there when he needed intimacy, it wasn't your fault at all! yet you couldn't stop your strong heartbeat when sungchan sat down next to you on the couch that day. your best friend left to get food for the both of you, and you were left alone at home with their brother. you had the most normal conversation possible, but something about it felt off. something inside sungchan's eyes made your heart flutter.

"so... did you find a boyfriend at uni? it's the best moment of your life to go out and have fun."

"not at all... it's not really my thing, and boys never really paid much attention to me, i guess."

"that's a shame, you're such a pretty thing. you wouldn't know how to be with a boy, i'm sure."

"what do you mean sungchan?"

"well... if you don't have any experience, boys can get disappointed. and leave you. it's very important to them, that you know how to care for them."

"well i... will probably learn at some point-"

"i can help you if you want."

sungchan's words were innocent. completely hidden by his soft smile and his sweet voice. his large hand that rested in your thigh was enough to draw you closer to him. sungchan told you how experienced he is, and how he knows everything that boys enjoy. and what you should be doing to please them. how you should take care of them. at first, he just talked and gave you some advices. then his hands that were holding your thighs got up to your shoulders, and his face was soon in front of yours. you trusted him. no one else but him could help you. he's the one man you trust the most in the world.

sungchan was the first to kiss you. his lips on yours were soft but needy, he was hungry and desperate to taste you after so long. he was quick to push his tongue inside your mouth and dominate you completely, while you just sat there, trapped between his strong arms, your back against the couch. your face felt hot and sungchan's eager lips became sloppier against yours, slower, letting you the time to adjust and try to reply to the kiss. it lasted for a minute but to you it felt like hours. to sungchan, it felt like mere seconds. he wished he could kiss you again as soon as you broke the kiss to catch your breath.

sungchan praised you for that kiss. he told you how great you did for a first time, but that he probably should show you more one day. so you would be ready to be with any boys in the future. when your best friend wasn't watching, sungchan would ask you for a kiss each time you were over after that. so he could judge it each time you messily pressed your lips on his. he taught you how to fight for dominance with his tongue and how to reply to the heated make out sessions he would share with you. he never said anything other than wanting to help you, but deep down, sungchan wanting you to crave the feelings of his lips like a drug.

he went further than that. you started being over when your best friend wasn't at home, so sungchan could keep his teaching a secret. kissing was just a very small part of everything you needed to know. you sat on sungchan's bed while he had his pants down his ankles, your hand experimentally stroking his cock that pulsed into your palm. you let yourself discover what it was like to give pleasure to a man, sungchan's soft voice guiding your every move. he told you to play with your fingers on his slit, what pace he liked the best, to rub the veins on the side of his length with your fingertips, to pay more attention to his tip that swell with need. it took everything in sungchan not to press you into the mattress, he wanted to savor the feelings of your hands on his stupidly big cock, he wanted even more than that.

soon enough, he was pressing the head of his dick on your lips, telling you how essential it was for you to know how to suck men off and how much they love it. you already felt your vision get blurry when he hit your tongue with his cock before pushing his tip inside your hot mouth. it was already a lot of you, sungchan's fist holding your head in place by your hair. he made you swirl your tongue around his tip and bob your head, he made you gag on his length each time you moved. praises fell off his tongue at the same time as curses, he told you how fucking good you feel, and how you'll do so well for boys in the future. after spending hours with him, sungchan would whisper how great and experienced you were becoming, and it made your heart swell with pride.

sungchan was in absolute heaven. every other day, you would come home, suck him off until he came on your face, kiss him for hours until your lips were red and puffy. all he needed now was to feel you. it was a craving that couldn't be fulfilled, as much as you were thankful for his 'help', you told him you would lose your virginity to someone you love. such a cute decision, sungchan told you. but don't you love him? is he not enough? after that, you decided you had learn enough from him and you could probably try it by yourself now. you kissed sungchan one last time at the front door, and he never got to feel your lips again.

you walk out of your best friend's room. you're alone at home again, they needed to pick up some packages, and should be back very soon. you walk to the kitchen to get a glass of water and bump into sungchan who just got out of his room at the same time. it's been a while since you last saw him, and it's always nice to see his sweet face. the tension you once felt had faded when you lost touch with him. sungchan and you have a very casual talk, as if he doesn't remember how you suck him off under his desk a few months ago.

"was it helpful? the things i taught you?"

"oh that... it was, i have a crush on this guy and i think i'm ready for... the next step, you know."

"oh, the one big step. are you sure you won't disappoint him?"

"why would you say that?"

you feel it again. your heartbeat ringing in your ears when sungchan walks to you and trap you between his arms against the counter. his parted lips remind you how you used to get lost in the kisses he gave you.

"well... it's something i never helped you with. you'd be... probably so tight... it will be hard for him, he might even give up on you, and you wouldn't want that, right?"

sungchan's eyes start getting darker. after you stopped the 'training sessions', he only got more desperate. desperate for even just a look from you. all he ever did was for you, and you wouldn't even look at him anymore. one of his hand travels up your arm, before resting on your face. his thumb rubs your bottom lip, he has forgotten the taste of it already. and he craves your lips even more than before. sungchan gets closer to you, you can feel his hips press into yours and the bulge in his black sweatpants poke at your stomach. your face heats up when he leans in, his face so close you can feel his breath hitting your skin. his usual gentle voice sounds low and dark when he speaks to you.

"let me help, one last time. i promise after that you'll be perfect."

you nod, and lean your face closer to sungchan, expecting his lips to crash into yours as soon as you agreed. instead, he grabs your hand in his and drags you to his bedroom. the half closed blinds make the room look quite dark, it only gets darker when sungchan closes the door behind you. you naturally walk to his bed and sit down, like you used to. but instead of laying on his back, your friend's brother pushes down on your shoulders to get on top of you, he cages you between his arms. sungchan parts your legs with one knee and sit himself comfortably between them, his eyes traveling your body with a hunger you don't remember ever seeing in them.

sungchan has been more than patient. for months, he took his self control to another level each time you were over. seeing you under him is like a dream, a forbidden one. sungchan finally seals his lips with yours, his large hands don't waste a second before getting under your shirt. he plays shamelessly with your chest, his lips cover your neck in hot kisses while you squirm under him. he has always been so gentle and slow with you, and you're not used to this new pace he sets. sungchan gets rid of your top and his quickly so he could press your burning skins together. he holds one of your wrist between his fingers and make your hand rest on his chest so you could touch him too.

"you're such a small little thing, aren't you..."

sungchan wonders if you will break under his touch, his fingertips are careful when they go down on your chest as if your skin would shatter like glass. to be honest, he wishes he could break you and pick up your messed up pieces so he could put them back together. he's going to make you perfectly his. sungchan's expert fingers open your pants and push them down until he can take them off, leaving you only in underwear under his gaze. you could see fire in his eyes, but you have no idea how much he's burning inside, how much this sight of you ignite something in him he never felt before. but you can see how badly his cock twitches into his sweatpants.

he doesn't care anymore. he strips off his clothes and sits back between your legs. you're all his to play with. his fingers go down your sides slowly, over your panties then your thighs, sungchan watches shivers cover your skin. he plays with the hem of your underwear with one finger before dragging it down your legs until you are finally naked. he can't believe his hands that grab the skin of your thighs are the first to ever do it, he can't believe his palm that rest on your core is the first to ever discover this untouched part of your body. his fingers run over your soaked slit, you grab the sheets in your hands and bite your lip as sungchan laughs. he watches in awe how wet you are for him, as if you waited for him to do it since he started it all.

sungchan pushes his fingers deeper into your slit but without ever getting them inside of you, he rubs your arousal over his hand. he swears he could cum only from the wet sounds his digits makes when he moves them. his hand leave you whining for more, you watch him grab his cock and pump himself, covering it with your wetness and his own precum. the way sungchan looks at you when he jerks himself off reminds you of the first time you ever saw him in that state, and it makes your insides burn even more. you whimper in anticipation when sungchan gets closer and he can barely hold himself back anymore. he pushes his tip between your legs, he rubs his cock all over your core and circle sensitive points with the head of his dick. the way he presses himself against your entrance without actually getting inside only makes you drip even more.

sungchan holds his cock in his hand and finally aligns himself, his other hand grips your thigh harsh enough to dig his fingers inside your skin. his tip stretches your walls and you arch on sungchan's bed, he keeps pushing himself inside of you with his eyes glued between the both of you. so fucking tight is all sungchan can get out of his parted lips. the way you suck his dick inside you so perfectly drives him insane, he's going to stretch your insides for him and his cock, he's going to craft you for him only. when he finally sits all of himself inside you, his hands grabs your waist and drag you closer to him. you feel him so deep, so big, nothing like you could have ever imagined. you concentrate on sungchan's fingers that draw invisible circles on your stomach and the pain starts to fade, replaced quickly by a need to feel his length rub your walls.

when you clench on him, sungchan's soft expression vanishes and he groans, his grip on your hips gets a little tighter. his eyes travel your body before meeting yours, and you feel him slowly rock his hips. you can barely hold the eye contact, but sungchan speaks up and forces you to focus on his voice.

"you know... i only ever wanted to help you, you know that baby, right?"

you can only whine loudly in response when he snaps his hips against yours with a new strength, he gets deeper inside you as if it was possible. sungchan knows he would feel a pleasure he never experienced before, but it flows his veins like heroine and gets him high immediately. he sets a quicker pace with his thrusts and watch your body bounce with each of his moves, his large hand coming to hold you steady by your shoulder. he leans over you, his chest resting against yours and his lips find your ear, his voice is so low you can barely hear him through your own cries of pleasure and the bed hitting the wall.

"i'm going to make you so perfect... made for men like me..."

sungchan doesn't care about your pleasure, he only cares about himself, but the blissful expression on your face is so satisfying to him. his hips are brutal against yours and each time it knocks the breath out of your lungs, you feel a delicious burn irradiate from between your legs and stir into your lower stomach, it's overwhelming. it's taking over you and making your head spin, your thoughts are foggy and you can only think about one thing. sungchan. when you open your heavy eyes, you're met with his pleasured face, his hair sticking to his forehead. his promises of this being a teaching session and helping you out are long forgotten. you want to hold yourself on sungchan's shoulders, but he sits back up, his chest stopping the soft pressure it gave to yours.

his hands that dug into the skin of your hips grab your legs to part them wider, he watches how his cock disappears easily inside you and savors the stretch he feels around your tight walls each time. he can't stop smiling to himself, he thinks about how your core is now perfectly made to welcome him and only him now. he finally got to create you as he wanted. you cry his name, you claw at the sheets from the pleasure that makes you dizzy.

sungchan himself feels close to the edge, he's so much more sensitive when it comes to you. and all his terrible thoughts of taking away the only pure thing you had left, the fact that he was your first everything, that no one ever touched you that way, had you that way, it makes him crazy. as if he wasn't crazy enough for you already. he doesn't wanna cum inside but he can't stop himself when he feels his release coming faster. his self control fades, his thrusts are messy and incoherent, he's just chasing more pleasure before he can't hold it anymore. you feel also close to a tension you've never felt before, it's pooling in your stomach and growing stronger each time sungchan drags his cock against your walls.

sungchan feels himself cumming too soon, his hips still deep inside you, as deep as he can, his nails dig inside the skin of your already bruised hips. he lets the first shoot of his cum flow your insides before pulling out. he quickly jerks off with his hand, his grip on his cock almost painful and just as overwhelming as the pleasure he feels. he covers your stomach with more ropes of cum, the sticky fluid painting your skin along with the marks his grip left on you.

sungchan couldn't be more proud of his masterpiece. the way you can barely breathe, your hair messy and your eyes teary, covered in the red shapes of his fingers and his cum as if he owned you. the burning feeling and pleasure you felt slowly disappear, you still feel hot all over, but it's not the same, it's not as good. sungchan runs his hand through his damp hair and looks at the mess he made on you with his usual soft eyes. and somehow, it's only at that moment that you feel a shiver creep down your spine.

"our sessions are done. now you know how to pleasure men. especially men like me."

[bahablastplz]

All In | Chapter 8

pairing: Lee Felix x f!reader (mafia au)

summary: You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Yang Jungwon, notorious mafia boss. Your life gets flipped upside down when you're found beaten and bloody by SKZ, the rival mafia group, and you're quickly integrated into their lives. What will happen when you try to leave your old life behind and start anew?

chapter summary: you must come to terms with what has just happened and face the fact that you’re still no longer safe

a/n: early chapter post because I’m at a music festival this weekend (not lolla) and it’s my birthday!! if there are any formatting issues it’s because i’m in the middle of fucking nowhere and i had to upload on my phone. enjoy!!!~~

warnings: please see series masterlist for all warnings

series masterlist ~~ series taglist ~~ main masterlist

Felix drives you in a car that you have been in before. You have half the mind to think that you’ve never really seen him drive before, but instead you let yourself wallow in your sorrow. Neither of you speak on the drive. Your tears don’t stop flowing, and he doesn’t bother to ask you about it. The silence is welcomed.

Until he gets a call about twenty minutes into the car ride. Your silence is interrupted as he picks up the phone. Voices are muffled, and you know it’s intentional that he doesn’t put the phone on speaker. You don’t try to eavesdrop anyway. You’ve had enough drama for the night.

Or so you thought. Because when Felix suddenly hangs up the phone and whips the car around 180 degrees, that same panic from earlier bubbles back in your throat.

“Sorry,” he winces as you hold onto the car door handle, taken aback from his movements. You look at him with wide, sad eyes and you can tell from the grimace present on his features that he’s hesitant about what he’s about to tell you. “Um… change of plans. So, we have Minho, erm, Lee Know. He’s safe but his condition is rapidly declining. Really bad news, um, Lee Heeseung was planning an assassination attempt against Jungwon. Either way now that Jungwon is… gone, Heeseung is the next in charge and, from what Lee Know gathers, you’re next on his list. The house is not safe for you.”

You don’t even answer him, finding yourself subconsciously rocking back and forth to soothe yourself. You bury your head in your thighs, instead. A hand touches your shoulder, hesitant but rubbing soothing circles into your skin. With a deep sigh, you welcome it.

“Where are we going?” you finally muster up the courage to ask without looking at the man beside you.

“We’ll find somewhere. Hyunjin sent me the location of a motel in the area.”

You nod at him, and it’s not much later that you pull up into the lot of said motel. It’s packed, but Felix manages to find an empty parking spot and flips the car in with ease. You go to open the door but he stops you.

“Um, I think I need to go inside alone, just to book the room? Um, sorry it’s just, you’re covered with blood, and there’s no need to raise suspicions yeah? It’ll take five minutes, promise.” He goes to open up his door but looks at you. “Will you be okay?”

You’re about to point out that you’re not the only one covered in blood, suddenly noticing the crimson substance tainting the elegant white suit from earlier this evening, but as if he’s read your mind he shrugs off his jacket, leaving just his undershirt. You stare for just a second too long.

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m fine,” you say. He nods his head. You both know it’s a lie.

“It’ll be alright. Just lock the doors once I’m gone. Five knocks and I’m back, okay? Five knocks for Felix. Right. Okay then.”

And the door slams shut. You roll your eyes at the suggestion of locking the door–you would be just fine without it–but still, reach and hit the lock button the second he’s out of sight. You hit it ten times more, just to be safe.

And you’re left in the car, alone. The only thing to be heard is your breathing, heavy and loud, but it gets you to take notice of how abnormal it is and you will yourself to slow it down. You close your eyes, reclining the seat, listening to the beating of the wind against the car door, as it creaks and sways.

You’re alive.

After all this time, you’re alive, after you’ve kissed death’s doorstep more times than you’d like to admit.

When the five knocks come on the car window, you jump despite knowing it's coming. You unlock the car and Felix opens your door, looking at you sheepishly. An arm wraps around your waist and he helps you out of the car, allowing you to put your weight on him. He guides you to the door of the motel in silence. When he unlocks the door and swings it open, you laugh. You can't help it.

“Felix, why is there only one bed?”

He guides you to sit down on it and you look up at him as he locks and deadbolts the motel door behind him.

“This was the only vacancy left,” he says softly. Tears are running down your face and it feels ridiculous that you allow something this small to push you further down the edge.

“We couldn't have found another fucking motel?” It had been a long day, and you had just wanted to lay down, alone.

“Just um… for your protection, the more people around, the harder it is to find you.” It was strange seeing Felix so flustered, a slight blush running uncharacteristically up his cheeks and ears. You roll your eyes, a slight pang in your chest for giving him such an attitude when he hadn’t done anything wrong. You don’t vocalize that, though.

“Whatever, yeah. I'm going to go take a shower. This dress is fucking uncomfortable.” You storm into the dingy bathroom, not meaning to slam the door behind you. The lights flicker to life, buzzing and giving you an unflattering glow in the mirror. You peel the dress off and it slumps to the floor. A layer of blood, dirt and grime covers your skin everywhere but where the dress covered your figure. Your makeup and hair that you had spent so long delicately applying looks wrecked, large clumps of black mascara congealed on your skin. You’re covered in scrapes and scratches all over, a small bruise already forming from where Woojin had struck you.

When will you be able to look in the mirror and recognize yourself again? These past few weeks have left you beaten and bruised and your life has been turned completely upside down. Everytime you look in the mirror a situation leaves you with a new wound, a new something to take care of, a new array of ugly purples and greens and browns littering your skin. Your wrist brace is still on, despite everything, though it’s filthy as well, and removing it reveals the same ugly hues on your skin you had come to hate. What have you gotten yourself into?

You cry when you're in the shower. You really, really cry. It's ugly, it's loud, but it's cathartic. You have cried so much more than you’re willing to admit these past few days. Tears and snot run down the poorly cleaned motel shower drain along with the evidence of the past day. The evidence that Yang Jungwon is dead. The evidence that whatever you've become a part of there's no leaving. No amount of scrubbing your skin raw with a rough washcloth and cheap vanilla soap can erase this fact.

You feel like you’ve been born anew by the time you step out of the shower, thoroughly cleaned yet a little emotionally drained. As you towel dry your body, you look at your gown’s place on the ground. No way in hell are you going to put that on your body again. Wrapping yourself in a slightly fluffy yet matted white robe, you peek outside the bathroom door.

“Felix, I don’t have any clothes–Felix?” As you peer outside into the small room, one thing is evident. Felix is not here. The motel door is no longer deadbolted. Your thoughts run faster than you’d like.

Where is he? Did Heeseung come and get him? Does that mean that Heeseung is around here somewhere as well? Are you in danger? Is Felix okay?

“Felix?” you call. You start looking around the room frantically despite all logic. You open the closet door. You even look under the bed, as if he would be hiding there (He’s not). Your breathing gets heavy and frantic, not for the first time this night. “Felix! Felix? Where are you? Felix?” As you reach to open the door, someone beats you to it.

You scream.

A hand covers your mouth, barely muffling your noises, but as you cry you hear the familiar cadence of his voice. “Shhh, shhhh, hey! It’s okay. It’s alright, I’m right here.” When you see Felix in front of you you wrap your arms around him for a second. His hand touches the small of your back, a gesture of comfort. Then, as if better judgment has appeared, you shove him away harshly. When you look at him you feel anger bubble up in your chest.

“Where were you?” You hate how anxious his brief absence made you feel.

“I had to make a call. And um, get some supplies.” He lifts up the contents of his hands that you had failed to see. Two plastic bags. You take a moment to look Felix up and down. Dark circles frame the undersides of his eyes and his hair is the same amount of disheveled as yours was before your shower.

When he unpacks a box with greasy diner food you nearly moan. The hunger in the pit of your stomach hadn’t made itself apparent until just now, probably overwhelmed with the amalgamation of other emotions swirling in your gut.

He throws you the contents of the other bag. Clothes. Thank God, you think, though you haven’t had time to become embarrassed by your current state, clad in loosely-tied bathrobe. Wordlessly, you step back into the bathroom and change.

You laugh in disbelief when you see the outfit he purchased. You’re thankful nonetheless, especially for the thoughtfulness behind buying you a bra and underwear, even if they’re cheap.

When you step out, you look at him inquisitively.

“Felix, where did you find an ‘I love New York’ t-shirt?” You ask, looking down at your new apparel. “We aren’t even in America.” You don’t mention that your pajama pants are at least two sizes too big.

“Listen, it's three A.M. This was all I could find,” he explains. 3 A.M.?! You realize the implications of his words, meaning that you had been in that warehouse for at least five hours, and you suppress a shudder. You shrug your shoulders and sit down, accepting the food that Felix offers.

When Felix leaves to shower, you cozy up into the motel bed. You appreciate the silence, though the air conditioning rattles and the shower stream can be heard. In the meantime you turn off the overhead light and flick on the bedside lamp. You flip through the TV and turn on the first thing you can find to distract you. It's some RomCom you haven't seen before and you chuckle at the irony of it. While you wish your life could be a RomCom and you are surrounded by attractive men at every corner, they're the most dangerous men in the country and some of them want you dead.

You start to drift off when Felix steps out of the bathroom. He is illuminated by the lamplight, showing his wet hair that sits just past his shoulders. You smile to see that he is wearing pajamas identical to yours, and for a second you think; you are the same. But you are not the same. You and Felix are here for very different reasons. You smile nonetheless.

When he grabs a blanket and sits on the floor you furrow your brow.

“Felix? What are you doing?” You inquire. Your voice comes out quiet, riddled with a sleep-like haze.

“I was going to sleep on the floor,” he says softly. “Don’t worry about me. Just go to sleep, okay?”

You sit up in the bed and yawn, stretching your arms out in a way that is not unlike that of a cat. You rub your eyes in confusion as his words register with you.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor,” you say. “Get in bed.”

“No no, it’s okay,” he responds. He stretches out on the floor and closes his eyes, as if to show you ‘no really, I’m comfortable down here.’

With a loud groan you get out of bed, wrapping yourself tight with your blanket as you flop onto the floor on the other side of the bed, just out of sight.

“No no no,” he says, though the way his accent softens the vowel and makes your lips quirk up. “What are you doing?”

“If the only way to get you in that bed is for me to not be in it, then so be it, Felix. Now, let me sleep,” you grumble. You’re being petty and you know it, but you really feel adamant about him not sleeping on the floor. You were just being a pain earlier and you didn’t mean your words.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor, Y/N,” he says. You can hear him sit up.

“Watch me,” you spit. “You’re sleeping on that bed whether you like it or not.”

“Y/N.” He says your name seriously this time, like a warning.

“Felix,” you respond in the same tone. “Just lay in the damn bed. I’ve had a long day and I’m tired of fighting, what the fuck–” Before you can register it, your body is in the air. Because you’re wrapped so thoroughly in your blanket, any attempts to flail your limbs about are futile. Felix lifts you so effortlessly that it’s almost laughable, and when he throws you on the bed you noticeably bounce. A sound leaves your body that’s like a mixture of a laugh and a scream, but you try to cover it up with the words that leave your mouth next:

“Felix I swear to God if you don’t sleep in this bed instead, oh. Okay.” You’re silent as Felix gets into the bed next to you with a huff and rolls over, not facing you. You can tell he’s annoyed by your kerfuffle, though you’re not sure if he really means it. You reach over finally and turn out the bedside lamp, submerging the room in darkness.

“Sorry,” you whisper. The word dissipates into the air, spoken to no one but yourself.

Despite knowing that you are both far from asleep, you don’t talk. There’s nothing to talk about, and nothing either of you want to hear. You’re grateful for Felix in this moment, though, and you feel more protected than you have in a very long time just having him by your side.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You’re running through the forest. That very same forest that you ran through that first night, a glimpse of freedom away from Chan and the madness that comes with staying in a house full of men from the mafia. You’re barefoot, vulnerable, broken wrist and probable concussion. You’re running as fast as you can and you’re out of breath, looking behind you every few seconds. You feel as if you are being chased. Who are you running from? Why are you so scared?

You come into contact with something and you hit it hard with a thump. You look up and realize it’s a person that you’ve come in contact with.

“Love,” Jungwon says to you. He hoists you to your feet, gripping your arm harshly. “There’s no use running. They are always going to find you.”

You whip your head around, seeing Chan emerge from the darkness. He’s not even out of breath even though he was clearly the one chasing after you. The expression on his face is nothing less than murderous.

“He doesn’t love you,” Chan spits, gesturing to the man holding you tightly in his arms. “He never loved you.” Jungwon’s grip on your arm tightens, and he wraps his arms around you in what he tries to convince you is a loving embrace.

“I loved you so much, but you gave me up for Chan,” he cries. “How could you do this to me? You’re the reason I’m dead. You know that, right? It’s all your fault.” You turn around to look at him, to refute his claims, but as you do you hear the bang. You don’t have to look to see that Chan was the one that shot him, but Jungwon falls dead in your arms.

As you hold his lifeless body, you’re screaming and shaking him, begging him to wake up. You feel an arm on your shoulder, and you know who it is, but you scream and you scream and you–

“Y/N!”

You’re screaming, you realize, though a hand is over your mouth, trying to muffle the noises. You’re thrashing about, trying to release the hold someone has on your shoulder. You recognize your breathing is fast and your heart is beating rapidly out of your chest, and you vaguely recognize that your skin is damp from your own sweat.

As you try to jump up you feel the arms pulling you back down, and before you can scream again you finally recognize the voice trying to soothe you and bring you down from your high. When you turn and see Felix, his eyes wide in concern, you begin to cry. You bring a hand to cover your own mouth as you remember your nightmare, and you do little to keep yourself from hyperventilating. You turn your head and your whole body away from Felix, not wanting him to see you like this. Suddenly hyperaware, you stand up, ready to run into the bathroom and hide yourself from him when he stops you.

Proving himself to be faster than you, you all but run into his chest. “It’s okay,” he says, and his arms wrap around you tight. You bury your head into his shoulder and try to force your body to untense, focusing on the soothing circles he rubs just below your shoulder blade.

“It’s okay,” he repeats.

“No it’s not.”

“I know.”

He guides you back into the bed and you focus on your breathing. He doesn’t ask you to talk about it. He doesn’t have to, and you both know it.

When you both lay back down in bed, he grabs the TV remote and turns on a movie wordlessly. You’re not sure either of you really know what you’re watching. You lean your body into his slightly, and you match your breathing to his, allowing your chests to rise and fall to the same cadence.

He wraps an arm around you and you lean into his chest. You know he’s just doing it in order to calm you down and that it’s a gesture of kindness, nothing more. Somehow, you fall asleep much faster than the first time and it is restful and dreamless.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

taglist: @shuporanporang ; @purp13st4r ; @eurydiceofterabithia ; @heartsbyandra ; @thicccurls ;

@rylea08 ; @the-sweetest-rose ; @oddracha ; @kapelover ; @goldenmellow ;

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@blossominghunnie ; @sunlitangel777 ; @kkamismom12 ; @slaykanejvetsi ;

[birthfan]

A little RP for you. No pressure, feel free to write as much or as little as you’d like :) ~ @shhhsecretsideblog

It was a warm summer evening and the platform was empty, just another woman and I, both waiting for the last train to pass by the rural station. The violet sky was still bright enough to see clouds but the street lamps were needed to see down the length of the outdoor platform. I had sat down on a bench near the entrance to wait for the train, the other woman already sitting on a bench further down the platform.

As I looked down the tracks into the distance, waiting to see the bright lights of an approaching train, I noticed the other woman was heavily pregnant. Her large belly protruded well over her thighs, legs slightly parted from its size, and her hands were placed delicately over the swell. I could see her huff and tilt her head back and I felt a pang of sympathy - I couldn’t imagine being so heavily pregnant during the height of summer.

Looking at my watch for the umpteenth time and back out along the dark train tracks, I was slowly coming to a realisation the train may not be coming. It was scheduled 10 minutes ago and I’d been here at least half an hour, so I knew I had not missed it. It was the last train and I had no idea how I was going to get back home if it didn’t show.

I was brought out of my thoughts by the distant sound of a whimper and it took me a moment to realise it had come from the pregnant lady. Illuminated by the street lights I could see her curled over her baby bump, one hand gripped the bench and the other cupped her belly. I couldn’t see her expression but her body language looked like she was in pain.

It was late and dark, feeling a sense of female solidarity I decided to go over and check if she was okay. As I approached I could hear more sounds coming from the poor girl, moaning and muttering under her breath. “… not now…. wait a little longer…please…”

Her hair fell over her face but I could see it was slightly damp with sweat, and she was shifting awkwardly on the metal bench and breathing quite heavily.

“Hi, erm… are you okay?” I asked nervously, looking at the way her belly seemed to shift under the fabric of her clothes and hoping she wasn’t about to have this kid right here on the platform.

I'm startled by your intervention, having almost forgotten about your presence. I try my best to seem normal "Y-yeah just you know, baby being overly active, some advice: don't get pregnant in the summer" I giggle nervously, unfortunately even if my acting was good enough to fool you my body clearly displayed my lie as I feel something give inside of me, then a strong splashing sound fills the empty station.

We both look down at the puddle of birthing fluids in-between my legs and before I can even think of something to say a contraction makes me double over in pain "hnnnnng fuuuuuck shit why now?!" I groan out, my baby's head already halfway through my cervix as I'd unknowingly given in to the urge now that the water sack no longer softened the feeling.

You look at me panicked, a complete stranger about to see me at my most vulnerable, "oh shit are you.... ehm pushing?" you ask, with your own expression judging your confused question as soon as it comes out of your lips.

My hands right above my knees for support as I kneel over and push "Hnnnnnnnnng hoo hooo oooh god!" I exclaim through my panting and groaning as my baby slips further down my birth canal. I begin to feel the weight of my child's head behind my lips, I can also feel gravity making them painfully bulge out without my interference.

You look panicked and entranced at the swell forming in my soaked almost see through underwear, you take a deep breath and gather your courage as you grab my hand "alright focus on me, breathe and rest, I can't imagine what you're feeling right now but I'm not just gonna stand by while a person suffers so" your confident words catch my attention and help me gather my thoughts despite the pain and fatigue.

"A-alright heeee hoooo heeee" I start breathing rhythmically like I've seen many women do "mnnnngggggaaaaaah haaa" I struggle as I push with the contraction, my lips starting to open up under my fluid soaked panties.

You hold my hands as you stand in front of me, an act of warmth, of a stranger that despite no prior relation still wants to help, I give you a pained smile to show my appreciation as words fail me in such a moment.

Unfortunately our intimate moment is interrupted by a contraction unlike any I've felt until now causing my legs to almost buckle under me as I give a big long push "hnnnnnnnnnnngggggggaaaaaAAAAAAH" a groan turning into a scream as the head quickly crowns causing my vulva to stretch beyond what I even thought was possible, the baby's dark hair being clearly visible through my panties.

I breathe shakily as I'm now below where my hands are, still joined with yours, I realise I've unknowingly forced myself into a squatting position, I look up to see a sympathetic soft smile and kind eyes, which despite everything causes me to smile lightly.

I feel another contraction building up inside of me, and so I close my eyes and focus, and then it hits "mmmmmmmm-" I moan with closed lips as I give it my all, and then finally "-mmmmmaaaah haaa oh my god" the first coherent expression in a while comes out of my upper lips just as my baby's head exits my lower lips with a spray of fluids.

It is at this point that I remember that I never removed my ruined underwear as I feel the head pressing against them, "h-hey I need your mmm he-help with something?" I'm able to stammer out as you nod and lower yourself to match my eye level "what do you need me to do?"

"I n-ne-need you to go behind me and-d hooooooo-" a contraction catches me by surprise as I focus on talking and interrups me, the need to push, hopefully one last time, is unbearable. As soon as my pained moan interrupts my train of thought you rush behind me and cup your hands below me "-oooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOH" I scream near the end of my moan as my baby painfully slides out of me into my panties causing them to reach their breaking point as they collapse causing my child to fall into your hands.

I collapse on the station floor, not caring about the state of it as I pant from exhaustion "haa haaa th-thank you" I'm able to breathe out, "ehm you're welcome" you say slightly embarrassed now that the confidence has worn off. "It's a girl by the way ehm congrats" you say handing her to me as I sit "what are you gonna call her?".

I think about it for a second and then ask "what is your name?"

Thanks so much for the ask!!! It was fun to write, sorry I'm still rusty but I hope you enjoyed it anyways, it came out longer then expected lol, don't get used to it just yet hehe

[slippinninque]

🖇️From over the Cubicle Wall🖇️

In which a coworker ships it

Terry Richmond x black reader

Warnings: none really, short fic, had to get this out so it may need some edits

“You know what…I ship it.”

“What, the slides? You got the label printed out?”

“Girl, no! I’m talking about Robin and Starfire over there!”

Emma looked blankly at her cubicle mate for a moment, the other scoffing and returning to her silent watch in the meanwhile. Now, it was clear that her coworker didn't take her HBO Max binges seriously but there was something more pressing at hand.

Terry was guarding the last muffin for you.

So far Heather, Mike, and Cameron have been fended off. The craziest part was that Terry wasn’t sweating them at all. He only politely moved away the platter as he told them that you went to the restroom. It was a lie. You were being held up in the meeting that was already 5 minutes over–

Emma’s voice was suddenly beside her ear, “Mia–

Mia jumped so hard that she jostled her desk, sending her hard-ass water bottle clattering onto her decoratives and stapler. She suppressed a squeal as the sound echoed through the office, Emma abandoning her to find refuge on the other side of the cubicle.

Neither one of them moved.

Emma put her head into her hands, aimlessly moving her mouse in case they could track that shit. The urge to laugh nearly strangled her, but they had to recover. She looked over to Emma and saw her back was turned, shoulders shaking as she thumbed through a near-fresh legal pad.

A few minutes passed and Mia swore she could hear the douche before he appeared. Kyle sauntered down the way with the click of his knock-off designer shoes peering over suspiciously at their cubicle before going towards the kitchen.

This time, Mia could hear Emma’s stealthy behind coming, “Now what were you trying to say?”

“I sai–”

The sound of ceramic slamming caught their attention. Emma peeked over her wall in time to see Terry’s arm moving from where he pulled the muffin platter closer to himself to block it from Kyle. Kyle put his hands onto his hips, flapping out his stupid little jacket like it meant something.

“It’s her muffin.”

Kyle waved his hand in the air, “Sunshine isn’t going to mind it–

“I mind it. You’ve already eaten the other two. This one is Sunshine’s.”

Emma matched Mia’s dropped mouth, the two of them flapping their hands at each other. Terry Richmond called everyone by their names. Last names mostly, aside from those who he could tolerate.

“Terry, if you want to be Sunshine’s favorite–you should probably try being a little nicer. Like me, for example! Did she ever tell you that she was a mentee of mine?”

Mia and Emma exchanged glances. That was around the time the two of them were hired in, long enough to be trained and sent off before their juniors were hired a few weeks later. They were told that Kyle had a nasty habit of rock throwing when nobody was watching, so it was best to stay out of his way. It didn't take long for them to figure out that something happened between the two of you.

Terry’s voice was all ice and snow, “She’s told me all of it, be assured I’m aware of your…work ethic.”

“Oh, she has? Erm, is that right?”

Terry simply stared at him.

Kyle wilted a bit, chuckling awkwardly before he rubbed the back of his neck and Emma distractedly moved her mouse, eyes fixed in the floor to listen as hard as she could.

“Man, I wish someone would have told me it was. Zoom meeting—oh, good morning, Kyle.”

Mia watched raptly as Terry, without breaking eye contact with Kyle, handed you the muffin. You smiled down at the pastry and Mia’s heart sang for you, Emma cooed softly next to her.

“Oh, man, this is the perfect start to the second half–thank you, Terry!”

With your prize, you went further into the kitchen to grab your lunch from the fridge. Mia hurried to sit back down as Kyle stomped off. She turned and met Emma’s eye who was holding a hand over her heart, as she nearly whispered.

“Oh no…”

“What’s wrong?”

“I ship them too…”

----------------

✨Ending notes:✨ This has been rattling in my head for a while and I needed to make room 🥹 I had to get this out of I was gonna go crazy tbh😗 I'm trying to get back into the swing of things creative but it's been a challenge. Thank you to all who still check in, it means the world to me! TYSM for reading and ilysm💕💖✨

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