#i normally would talk about this in the open but part of me doesn't want people to feel bad

[t00nified]

vent in the tags cause I'm kinda sick of this-

[lymtw]

Toji can't ignore the sounds of your moans and whimpers through the wall. He's sitting on the couch, in the living room, unable to do anything about it, because you're still mad at him, and he's frustrated as hell, because he's so painfully hard, that he can see the his dick twitching against the front of his sweats. He refuses to take care of it himself when he knows you're only a room away. To his convenience, you're already in the mood—clearly—but to his inconvenience, you're punishing him. You're scattering his name into your moans to throw salt in the wound, to really make it unbearable, and truthfully, it's getting to him.

Toji reached his limit when he heard you let out a sharp gasp, followed by the sound of those cries you let out when you cum hard. He strides over to your shared bedroom, opening the door to reveal your naked lower body, and your tank top scrunched up over your chest. His breath hitches, the throbbing in his pants intensifying as he rakes his eyes over your frame and absorbs the entire sight of you.

"You're really gonna get yourself off to the thought of me, when i'm right outside?" His incredulous tone doesn't do a good job of hiding the desperation that led him to barge into the room where you're splayed out so indecently.

"Mhm..." you hum, blissfully. You release a heavy, satisfied sigh. "That's exactly what I just did, 'cause you're on a time out," you say, tugging your shirt back down and pulling up your underwear, before sitting up to search for your shorts. "Don't worry. I finished. I'm done torturing you."

He can't let it be over. This normally wouldn't be enough to satisfy you. From what he heard, it seems like you only came once.

"Baby, no," he almost whines. He's outwardly desperate for you, having gone way too long without being allowed to touch you, intimately. "Let me. Please," he says, climbing onto the bed. His hands make contact with the skin of your bare legs and glide over the length of your shins, continuing their way up to part your thighs to make room for him to wedge himself between them.

"I did what you asked of me. Said I was sorry and repeated after you to call myself dumb." It was such a silly moment that made the storm in your mind subside for a minute or two.

Toji resists the urge to smile when he sees you suppressing the curl of your own lips. His hands go to your waist, not stopping there. The warmth of his palms travels up your edges, meeting the sides of your breasts and briefly palming the tops of them, in order to get to your shoulders. He grips your shoulders, using them as leverage to guide you back down to the bed. Focus is embedded into his features as he takes the thin material of your shirt between his rough fingertips and peels it off your skin until he reveals the gorgeous view of one of his favorite parts of your body.

Like a domestic cat, he lays his body on you, and plants his face between your breasts. It doesn't take long for him to begin appreciating your chest, pressing multiple slow kisses to your skin. He's basking in the softness you withheld from him.

"What else do you want from me, doll?"

You let out a small, quiet sigh, through your nose. You feel a little irritated with yourself for not even putting up a fight against his affection. You always say you're not going to let him touch you for a certain amount of time, as punishment for the dumb things he does, and yet somehow it always ends up this way—him nuzzling into your chest.

"I want you to stop being a jealous maniac," you say, the words coming out softer than you intended them to, as you welcome defeat and run your fingers through his soft, dark locks.

"Mm-mm, anything but that," he responds, muffled by your warm skin. His hands caress your body, rubbing your waist and massaging your hips in a manner that would induce relaxation under different circumstances. You can't let yourself fall into that comfort until you've talked things out.

"Toji, you flashed your gun at someone who mistook me for somebody else." You attempt to keep yourself composed in order to communicate the issue efficiently. There's no need to raise your voice when you have him right there, lying comfortably on your chest.

"Mhm, I did that," Toji confirms, before planting a soft kiss on the inner side of your right breast. "The dickwad must have been real blind if he had to get so close." He feels your chest rise with a deep inhale, then hears you let out the breath. With that, he knows you're still upset and he has to further elaborate on his actions. "He had his filthy paws on you and everything. I did what I thought was best to get him to fuck off."

You hum in mere acknowledgment. "Uh-huh, that's definitely the way to go about it. God forbid you verbalize your discomfort before threatening to use a bullet."

You feel a warm puff of air on your chest, similar to the sigh you let out, but less audible, and then a kiss directly between your breasts.

"I was right next to you, ma. He was looking at you in a way that he shouldn't have been. He looked at you the same way that I look at you. You don't need that from anyone else. And that stupid ass thing he said about supposedly feeling like he's seen you somewhere? He clearly said it to get a good look at you from up close."

"You really are insane, aren't you?" You ask, rhetorically, stilling the hand that's on the back of his head.

"Doll, I hate the idea of pulling the gun out in front of you. I don't ever wanna have to use it and scare you in the process, but he was actively trying to steal you from me. If he were just ogling you from afar, I might've acted differently, but he touched you. He fucking touched you. Who does shit like that?"

Toji can feel his blood boiling again, so he refocuses on your chest. He doesn't want to think about what happened anymore, when he's in his happy place, where he knows he belongs.

"Alright, Toji. Take a deep breath." You softened your voice to simmer down his emotions. You resumed the movement of your fingers carding through his hair, aiding him in calming down more.

He does as you say and releases a heavy breath. It's riddled with his discontented feelings. "You're supposed to be mine," he mumbles, before finally latching his lips around your nipple.

Toji needs reassurance, too. Him being an attractive, enormous, hulking man, has nothing to do with how secure he feels around you, his lover. It's easy to think that because he manages to turn heads wherever he goes, that he'll be fine when you get those same reactions, but the way you have him now, is proof that insecurity can reach even him. He needs to know that he's not going to lose you so easily, especially to someone as ridiculous as the man who managed to unsettle him.

You look down at him as he takes all the comfort he needs from your chest. "I'm all yours, Toji. You're the only one who will ever get a pass for that kind of psychotic behavior."

He hums, releasing your breast, before resting the side of his face down on your chest. "You make it sound like i'm toxic towards you."

Your chest jumps as you laugh, a gesture that makes Toji lift his gaze to look at you. Your expression managed to make him lighten up a little more.

"You're crazy, but I love you, regardless."

He groans, the sound cushioned by your soft skin. You're the one thing that holds up his sanity, yet somehow you're also the one who tests it by saying things like that to him.

"Let me have you," he says, his kisses beginning to trail up, towards your neck. "Please, let me have you, mama."

"Are you gonna keep threatening people when you get jealous?" You ask, your lips curling as be continues to kiss your delicate skin.

"Mhm," he confirms. "Like I said and you said," he speaks, into your neck, "you're mine. If people don't know it, i'll make sure they get it on the first go. There's no need to make mistakes."

You laugh. "Your possessiveness is intense."

"You're not a joke, to me," he says, looking at you. His expression is as serious as what he just said.

You grab the rolled up fabric of your shirt, with the intention of covering yourself. The ambience has gone more serious and it feels wrong to be so exposed in the moment.

"Don't cover yourself, yet. I want you, baby. Please." His knuckles graze your cheek, affectionately. Despite your chest being out on full display, his attention is centered on your face. He's reading your expression. You were laughing a few seconds ago and now you're as still as him.

"Be nice to me. I don't want you to be rough, this time." It's back to back gentleness with the way your voice reaches him and your smile manages to soothe the remaining sting he's feeling. It's like you're showing him the way you want him to handle you. "I'm yours, Toji. No amount of speed or aggression from your body against mine, will have an impact on the fact. Okay?"

He keeps his eyes on you for a couple more seconds, like he's letting your words sink in and fully envelop him. He repositions his hand, so that he's cupping your cheek, and a couple slow strokes of his thumb against your skin gave him the courage to lean down and kiss you. The second his lips meet yours, he wants more. Infinitely more. He's chasing kiss after kiss from you, utterly drunk on the feeling of your hands pulling him closer by his shirt. He'll consume you, at this point.

"Hm?" You hum, still awaiting his response.

"Got it, baby," he says, before connecting his lips to yours once more. He peppers the rest of your face with kisses, luring giggles from you at the barrage of affection.

This isn't the first time Toji has been revoked of his 'you privileges', and gotten them back, instantly. This has occurred many times in the years that you've been together. Going into a relationship with him, you never thought he'd be the jealous type, much less the type who would threaten someone's life over getting overly cozy with you. The first time he pulled something similar to this, it was a little frightening. You knew he kept a gun on him sometimes, but you figured it was strictly for life or death situations.

You were wrong.

Some weirdo was getting too comfortable with you, hand wrapped around your wrist and all. You clearly remember Toji being visibly bothered, because someone thought they could just swoop in and steal your focus from him. He watched for a minute or two as the man took in your beauty and complimented you on every aspect of your appearance. He really did his best to get you to follow him to his table, and though Toji thought the whole thing was a pathetic attempt, he couldn't help the feelings that began to bubble up as the man squeezed your arm. Toji did a dog whistle to grab the man's attention, and when he looked, he lifted his shirt, just enough to show the grip of his gun. Your stomach twisted and you felt like your heart was going to lurch out of your chest. The stranger just stood there for a second, looking at Toji, condescendingly, as if to insinuate that he knew he was bluffing, and when Toji reached for and grabbed ahold of the gun's handle, that same cocky man paled. He didn't even have to pull out the whole gun—the man had walked away by the time he had the grip in his hand— but you remained worried that he would notify someone about what happened, so you and Toji left.

To this day, Toji still scares people that way when he notices them invading your space in a manner that doesn't sit right with him. You're not scared anymore, when he does it, but the frustration of having to ditch wherever you are, in fear of being ratted out by whoever Toji threatened? It's still there, and you feel it every time. You know he does it out of love for you, but sometimes you wish he would take a second to talk to you, before he even thinks of hurting someone.

Toji has kissed your entire torso, by now. Your chest wasn't exempt from his attention, despite the amount of time he already spent on it. If anything, he refined the love he gave it with purposeful movement and significance towards every spot his lips brushed.

He nears your lower abdomen, wet kisses placed beneath your navel, going lower and lower until you can feel his breath being filtered through the front of your underwear. His hands go beneath the elastic band, cupping your hips without restriction as he kisses your clothed pelvis.

Your breathing picks up the slightest bit when his lips meet your slit through the thin layer. His tongue comes out and he does an experimental swipe of it against the fabric. You feel the space immediately heat up, from your arousal and from the warm wetness of his tongue, itself.

"Stay still for me, mama," he murmurs, kissing your inner thighs after spotting the quiver in them. "You nervous?" He asks, with a small curl of his lips.

"Of course, I am." You look into his eyes as you confirm it. You love him so dearly, that even after the years you've spent together, you still feel lightning coursing through you when he has you this way. This electric feeling doesn't prevent you from letting yourself enjoy what he gives you, nor does it hinder you from touching him and making him feel good. You don't become more hesitant towards him, because by now, you're well aware that your love for him coexists with butterflies. They reside in you, and are able to be lured out by him at any instant, despite your knowledge of the fact that he would gladly be someone's cause of death if they don't keep themselves in check around you.

"Love you," he says, kneading your hips as he leans in to press a few more warm kisses to your thinly veiled cunt. His eyes dart up to your face when you don't respond—he's a little lost on why you didn't say it back— until he sees how despite the way you just admitted to your nerves, he has you entirely at ease. You have a hand flat on the sheets, occasionally moving against the material beneath it, while your other hand rests on your stomach. Your chest is steady and your attention is on the ceiling, your expression serene—ethereally so.

His hands run down your hips, warm palms squeeze and feel up your thighs, gaining your eyes on him again. "You're not gonna say it back?" He asks, his voice deep enough to make the ache between your legs just that much more intense.

"You already know I do," you say, contrasting his demeanor with a giggle. He looks like a needy puppy with that glint that presents itself in his eyes.

"Mhm, doesn't mean I don't wanna hear it, again, or do you not love me, right now?"

You're caught by surprise with that one, a small, almost inaudible gasp, leaving you at the words. "I love you all the time, Toji. I love you now and I loved you earlier when I was pissed. It's not going away."

He's a little more impatient for you, now. His movement doesn't speed up, but his heartbeat is in his ears, and there's a tremble in his hands as he reaches for the elastic of your underwear. He pulls the garment down, wanting to smell and taste you more clearly. His cock jumps at the sight revealed. You're still so wet. He lets out a shuddered breath, now that your lower half is completely bared for him. His mouth comes closer and closer and his tongue comes out, making contact with your throbbing cunt for the first time.

"Toji." The sound is soft—unexaggerated—as his tongue laps at your warmth, tasting the sweet wetness that coats it. He could stay like this for hours, worshipping your entire body, while you touch him and gift him the prettiest sounds ever. He can't get enough of you, which is why when it looks like you're going to close your legs, he pins them down, entirely. His hands splay over your thighs and he keeps them there, because he isn't going to fight to give you the pleasure you deserve. He'll love on you until your body is begging him to stop, because he knows that your mouth can be misleading, at times.

He's taking it slow, just like you wanted him to. The most stimulation comes from him lightly sucking on your clit for brief moments at a time, just to hear your moans get the slightest bit louder. Every time he releases your sensitive pearl, he goes back to running his tongue through your drooling slit, the tip of the muscle nudging your clit, causing it to throb with need. Each graze of the wet warmth, makes you wonder if you should ask him to go faster, though you were the one who asked for this gentleness. You don't want to seem indecisive or come off as doubtful that he can make you cum this way. You know he can, but god, you want so much more. You feel like you're the one who's going insane with every flick of his tongue.

"That good, mama? Or do you want it slower?" He gives you a teasing smirk. Toji knows how you are. You say you want him to be soft and gentle with you, but when the time comes, you want more than what's given to you. You delve into greediness as seconds turn to minutes. You both have nowhere to be. Time is yours, and Toji intends to take advantage of that. He's going to fulfill your needs the way you want him to, but that doesn't mean he loses awareness of your little ticks. He feels the small twitches of your legs beneath his hands every time you feel his nose bump into your clit just before it gets hit by his tongue. He sees the way your hips sink into the mattress and your body quivers when they rise, again.

"G-Good. Don't go any slower," you respond, holding your voice as steady as possible.

"Mm... Faster?" He asks, his tone so calm yet sultry, that you can't tell if he's patronizing you. He doesn't miss the way light flashes, briefly, through your features. In an instant, you regain your composure. A simple hum is offered in response—a wordless brush off of his suggestion. The sound makes Toji smirk. How stubborn of you.

"I won't hold it against you," he says, pressing a kiss to the crease that joins your pelvis and your thigh, leaving an echoing feeling of need in your core. "Just say the word, ma." He presses more kisses to your skin, as if he's trying to persuade you to let him devour you.

"Mm-mm, this is good."

It's not what he's trying to get out of you, but he can keep going until you're hanging on by a measly thread.

He continues on with that same pace—licking, suckling, prodding—so gently, luring the cutest little mewls from you. It took a little longer, but eventually, your body started trembling with impending release.

"I'm gonna- Toji," you cry, tightening your fists around the sheets as he slowly circles his tongue over your clit, focusing on it entirely. Your moans grow needier and needier as you near the edge through such delicateness. The anticipation is killing him. He wants you to be louder. You wouldn't hate him for bringing you more pleasure, would you? It's a risk he's willing to take.

Without another doubt, he's messily making out with your cunt, causing more of your sweet nectar to drool out at a more rapid pace. Your breath hitches, a sharper rendition of his name cried out. Your hand reaches downward and grabs a fistful of his hair, tugging on it as he continues to ravage you. Your moans sound absolutely filthy. He doesn't detach his mouth from you for a single second. His hands finally release their pin on your thighs, allowing you to fully suffocate him when they shut around his head. His arms hook around your thighs, a harsh grip on them to keep you from scooting away from his relentless mouth when you cum. It's another strong, orgasm, that has you arching your back off the mattress and squirming as he continues devouring you through the intense sensation. Your hips roll in an attempt to get more of his mouth on you. Only when you start whimpering and attempting to twist out of his hold, does he ease up. He goes back to the original pace, soft kitten licks through your slit to lap up every drop of your sweetness, earning small twitches from your body, due to the sensitivity you feel.

You release the hold you have on his hair and relax your legs, unbending them and letting them fall comfortably on the bed. He finishes you off with a few kisses, thin strings of his saliva and your cum sticking to his lips, before snapping every time he loses contact with your cunt. His warm palms caress your thighs—a comforting gesture, as your sounds come to a halt and all that is heard is your breathing.

"You're so impatient," you playfully chide, a breathy laugh following.

"You wanted more," he responds, one more kiss placed on you before he licks his lips clean. "I'm really good at reading you."

"Yeah? You think so?" You ask, a teasing grin on your face.

"I know so," he responds. "Wouldn't it just be the worst if we've been together this long, and I didn't know almost everything about you, by now?" He repositions himself, now sitting on his knees to start ridding himself of his own clothes.

You manage a hum and a nod as you watch Toji pull off his shirt.

"Good thing that's not the case, and I do know basically everything about you. Down to the way your body reacts to me— the signals you create that let me know you're gonna cum all over my tongue, when your pretty mouth can't form words."

"So vulgar," you say, through flustered giggles.

"You can take it, mama," he teases, a smirk growing on his lips as you watch him pull off his sweats. His eyes stay on yours, as he kicks them off, letting them slide off the bed and onto the floor, before crawling back between your legs. You can feel his clothed hard-on pressing against your core as he takes your lips in his again. He's addicted to the feeling of your warm body against his.

His hands come down to cup your waist, his fingers molding into the soft flesh with every squeeze they offer. He pauses the make out, small breaths leaving him.

"Baby," he says, his voice almost a whisper, his lustfully darkened eyes narrowed on your starry ones. "I'm gonna kill the next person who hits on you in front of me." He goes back in for a few more quick kisses. "I'm not joking. I can't keep sparing them."

"Shh... All yours, Toji," you murmur, softly, pulling him back in to continue the flow of kisses. Your hand goes to the nape of his neck, the other settles on his shoulder. You hear him groaning quietly into the kisses as he continues grinding his hips into yours.

"Fuck, doll," he groans, pausing his lips on yours once again. "I need you."

You laugh, a warm sound that just adds on to his desire to have you. "So, take me, baby. I'm ready for you."

He gives you one more peck, the slyest smirk playing on his lips as he watches you lean forward for another one, only to be met with nothing.

"Ass," you grumble, playfully shoving his chest.

He chuckles, a deep rumble of a sound as he sits back to remove his boxers. He's not even ashamed of the mess of precum that accumulated in them. If anything, he's surprised he was able to hold in his load this entire time. Pleasantly surprised, because every drop will go to you, as always.

One minute you're sitting up to fully remove your shirt, pulling it up over your head, the next, in what seems like a flash, you're pushed back onto the bed, hands pinned above your head.

You giggle, looking up at him with a lingering smile. "Gentle."

"Mhm," he hums, leaning down to kiss your neck. "So gentle." Two misleading words that don't prepare you for the sensation of his teeth sinking into the crook of your neck.

Your bubbly laughter homes into his ears when his tongue runs over the indentations, luring a huff of a laugh from him.

You feel his cock run through your slick folds, his hips moving back and forth, slowly. Quiet breaths fill the silence that takes over the intimate moment. Toji runs his length through your slit one more time, before finally pushing his tip in. You gasp, feeling his cock begin to drive into you.

"F-Fuck, baby, let me touch you."

"In a minute." He sounds so calm and collected, but you can feel the grip he has on your wrists tighten and the bluntness of his nails pressing into your skin.

"No. Please."

"In a minute," he repeats.

"Pretty please?"

"You're so conflicting, mama. Love that you're begging, but at the same time, you're not listening." His hips draw back and thrust right back into you, his cock filling you up entirely, again.

"Oh fuck. Okay. Please, Toji," you whine.

Toji hums dismissively and picks up a rhythm that manages to get you to stop thinking about your pinned wrists. He lures soft, little moans out of you, listening closely as he plants warm, wet kisses on the side of your face, from your temple to your jaw.

"Just let me be good to you, baby. Alright?"

You hum, nodding your head.

"Yes?"

"Please, yes."

His thrusts become even more precise as he focuses on bringing pleasure to both of you, deep groans and grunts blending together with your higher pitched moans. A few minutes pass and you feel the pressure on your arms ease up, your hands free to roam without restriction. The first thing you do is cup his jaw and bring him in for breathy kisses. You keep your hands on his face and he lets you turn his head in every which way to cover him with kisses. Your affection is intoxicating, and he can't get enough of it. He lets out a breathy laugh when you practically have a make out session with the scar on his lips, your melodic sounds of pleasure released against the strike as he continues to fuck into you. The last kiss you leave on the cicatrix is a big one. One that makes the obnoxious kissy sound and everything. He swipes his tongue over his scar, as if he's trying to catch remnants of the sugar you coated it with.

"Love you," you say, eyes darting over his handsome features and the lovestruck expression they create. You feel the way his hips stutter against you, his abs tensing with restraint before he recomposes himself. You glide your hands up and down his arms and repeat yourself for him. "Love you so much, Toji. I'm yours."

"Fuck— I fucking love you. You're all mine. My baby." He mutters more inaudible curses under his breath, his grip on your waist getting harsher and his thrusts growing quicker, with every sweet confirmation you offer.nYou whimper, nails digging into his biceps as you withstand the feeling of his cock relentlessly brushing that spot within you that makes you melt beneath him.

"Oh fuck, i'm close." He groans, feeling the way your walls spasm around him at the words. "Yeahhh, you want it, huh, baby? Want my cum?"

A shaky breath leaves you, your face observed up close and personal by Toji, through lust-brimmed, enamored, obsessed eyes. You squirm under all of him— his zoned in attention on you, his touch, his hot, tacky skin, his cock buried inside you—dragging in and out of your soft walls, in a manner that has your toes curling to the brink of actual pain. His fingers find your clit and rub it in rapid circular motions, causing your body to jolt at the sudden intensity of the enhanced pleasure.

You look up at him with your sparkling eyes. "Please... P-Please, Toji? I want it. Want you," you utter, as he brings you closer to your own orgasm.

"Fuck, okay. Okay, baby, gonna give it all to you." His hips pick up their pace a little more and he buries his face into your neck. You can hear the string of grunts and shuddered breaths that pair with his unraveling, right beneath your ear. Deep moans and pants flow past his lips, and his nails begin to leave crescent shapes on your sides. You feel his hot breath on your neck, the open mouthed puffs of air accompanied by the lewd sounds of him filling you with his warm, creamy cum. As he continues rutting into you, riding out every second of his orgasm and then some to get every last drop of his cum into you, he bites your delicate skin, the placement only a few centimeters above where he bit you the first time. He stays there for a few seconds, breathing heavily through his mouth and nose, before he loosens his bite, the gesture transitioning to sloppy kisses over the wet, saliva-coated indentations.

"Cum, doll," Toji mutters, feeling the way your cunt flutters around him when his fingers relocate your throbbing bundle of nerves. Your head sinks back into the pillow, allowing him to drag his kisses up the column of your neck, to feel the vibration of your sounds beneath his lips. Your nails go to his shoulders, dragging across the toned area of muscles, surely leaving behind some scratches. You cry out in utter bliss, your force of an orgasm echoing through your entire being. "There you go, mama," Toji purrs, in response to your body releasing the tension that came with the intensity of your pleasure. You tremble, your small, rapid whimpers and breaths evolving into full blown, unholy moans. "So, so pretty," he drawls out, engraving yet another one of your euphoric expressions into his memory. His fingers leave your clit, and his hips slow down to the point of merely grinding into you, to lure those final little whines out, before stilling entirely.

You shut your eyes to focus on calming your heaving chest for a few seconds, and when you open them again, you have the prettiest pair of green eyes staring down at you. You give Toji a lazy smile and a laugh, a sight that makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside. His heart races as he absorbs the visuals of your post-orgasm haze. Your luminous eyes devour him, that little satisfied smirk on your face is everything— god, he loves that you laugh even more at the way he can't stop staring at you.

Just like that, Toji is reminded of what got this sight revoked from him in the first place. He still doesn't feel like he's in the wrong for wanting to murder anyone who has far from just friendly intentions with you, but as you caress his face and hold his gaze with that tender look in your eyes, his desire to kill those who openly lust after you, becomes entirely justified in his mind. He's lost all reason to hold back. There's no longer any part of him that would feel remorse or guilt, even if you can't look him in the eyes for days after the matter. He'll grovel as much as he has to, to get you to give him your eyes, again. You'll just have to agree to disagree on this, because yes, you come home to him, you sleep in the same bed as him, you kiss and hold him, the body concealed by your clothes is a secret between you and him, you get tangled up in sheets with him and the lot of it— but he can't risk losing you to someone who's possibly better than him and searching for all the exact things you have to offer. You're for him, as he is for you.

Toji doesn't care how clingy he appears when you finish getting cleaned up and ready for bed. You carelessly toss yourself onto the mattress and pull the blanket over your body while you wait for Toji, who took the steps and walked around the bed to make it to his side. He finds your body beneath the covers and immediately rolls on top of you, adhering himself to you, again. His head rests on your chest, his arms wrapped tight around your body.

You're already prepared to give him the intimate aftercare that comes with days like this. You don't mind that he's heavy and that he's crushing you or that he's taking up all your space, again, after having been so close to you a little while ago. You'll do this is many times as you need to for him to understand that he's wanted and loved by you.

You press a kiss to the top of his head, and murmur a quiet 'love you'. Your fingers run through his damp hair, your nails gently scratching the back of his head, while your other hand rubs his back. You feel the extra warm skin of his shoulders, where you paid no mind to the pressure your nails applied on it, earlier.

"Does that hurt?" You ask, lightly tracing a couple of the mildly inflamed lines. He hums in denial, but you let up, anyway, and continue to just rub his back.

He groans quietly at your soothing touch, nuzzling further into you. "I'm yours, too, ma. All yours," he mumbles. "I don't want anyone else and I don't wanna see you with anyone else."

You smile softly at his admission. "You're more than enough for me, Toji. There's no one I want more than you— no, there's no one I want other than you," you correct. "You know how much I love you?"

"Mm... How much?" He asks, waiting for you to give him a number or even just an elongated 'so much', but instead, you surprise him with:

"I wouldn't be able to tell you."

He chuckles. "Really?"

"Yeah, really. If you want something accurate, I'll never shut up."

"Good thing I like when you talk my ear off. You wanna give me an inaccurate idea of how much?"

You hum like you're in thought, a giggle following when he pinches your waist, encouraging you to tell him. "I love you a lot, Toji. So much more than I will ever be able to say or show. We would have to conjoin our minds for you to understand exactly how much I love you, but even then, once our minds separate, your estimate will be entirely off again."

He lifts his head off your chest, and waits for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room. The moonlight seeping through the spaces between the curtains is the only source of light that allows him to get a mediocre view of you. "That's inaccurate?" He asks, looking at you with clear disbelief when his eyes finally adjust. You nod, smiling through the warmth that spread on your cheeks. "Now, I wanna know how much you love me, with complete accuracy. I have all the time in the world to listen to you, baby. Just keep talking to me." He presses a kiss to your cheek before lying back down on your chest and wrapping his arms around you, again.

You hugged him as tight as you could for a few seconds. The sound of you straining yourself made him laugh, because not only did he not let out a single groan, but you tired yourself out even more. You rested your arms on his back and just shut your eyes. It was the warmth and weight of his body on you, the feeling of his arms keeping you firmly against him, the security, that managed to lull you to sleep. Toji dozing off was simpler than that, because all he needs to be able to sleep soundly, is for you to be around.

[mecachrome]

notes from nicole piastri's interview on red flags pod

oscar started playing monopoly and chess when he was 4-5 but he was too good at chess (relative to nicole) that she boycotted it

nicole opened her twitter account because oscar wasn't replying to her at boarding school and she needed a place to chastise him ("can you not answer... i KNOW you're on your phone") (it worked because he started replying to her there)

instead of unflappable she calls him "conservative"

even during christmas and birthdays he was never super excited, one time they went with a group of 5 mums and 5 kids to a hi-5 concert (popular australian kids' musical group) and while all the kids were "going nuts" oscar just sat there "focused the whole time" and didn't smile or move lmfao. they were like 3 years old

didn't know what she was doing with oscar as a baby because he was her first child and her mothers' group was her only reference and they went "isn't the best part of the day when you wake up and go to their crib and they smile at you?" and she was like ??? because oscar would wake up and just SCREAM every single day needing to be out of there immediately and she thought that was just normal... then she had the girls and went "ahhhh... so that's what they're talking about"

when he was younger than 2 he needed them to read car magazines to him and was already obsessed with all things automotive and while they were driving would just name off and point out car brands by their badges

for a long period of time he behaved like he was a car and would "spin" his wheels and pretend to accelerate and run like a car lol

did a big burnout the first time he was on a bike (it had training wheels but he still learned very early)

as a mum she wishes he'd chosen golf or tennis since it's much safer than f1 and sometimes people tell her that she technically had a say in that when he was a kid and she said "but i didn't! it was just in him!!!"

won an academic award when he was 13 and she was president of the parents' community so she presented it to him, normally these events are super formal and you simply shake hands but she gave him a big kiss and instead of acting embarrassed or spluttering he looked at the crowd, nodded silently, and walked off

came back for the summer a few years ago and they were biking on the beach together when she had to brake hard to avoid a kid and went over, when she recovered and got back on he went "are you all right?" very deadpan but after they got home they checked his heart rate monitor and saw that he was totally steady the whole time except for when she crashed and his heart rate went through the roof, told him "ah so you do have a heart... we just don't see it"

"there's no sibling that can piss him off?" "well he's a boy with three girls so he just doesn't go there because he's never going to win"

met lily in person for the first time when he came home for the melbourne grand prix (was still alpine reserve), at midnight oscar was like "hey mum you know the dts film crew are coming tomorrow morning right?" and she was like WHAT... and he was like yeah it'll be chill they just want to film us having breakfast like a normal family or whatever and she was like Mate you haven't lived here for 5 years now do you know what breakfast looks like. it looks like your sisters storming downstairs and grabbing an inappropriate breakfast and storming out the door giving me the finger!!! and then the next morning lily comes down and nicole is like "oh is oscar up?" and lily is like no... i think he's still in bed... (many such cases) and then mae refused to be in it so she got dressed and ran off to school 2 hours early to escape them. and then the mclaren fiasco happened and the whole thing got cut out of dts anyway

when she said "oh my god you met matt damon!" he was just like (shrugs) "yeah... yeah..."

they communicate by facetiming and he's Always lying in bed. one time in bahrain he was leaning back on an ornate tapestry and she asked what hotel he was staying at and he was like oh i'm at the royal palace i'm like a guest of the crown prince. she freaked out and was like "oh my god!!! get your head off the tapestry!!!" and he just looked back like ? no it's fine it looks pretty old lol

called her to tell her that he signed his f1 contract and when he said mclaren she Realized and was like oh no i love daniel!! and he straight up deadpanned "yeah everyone loves daniel. that's going to be a problem..." and said verbatim "of all the f1 drivers ever daniel is the worst one to be replacing"

one time in f4 chris couldn't go to a race and billy monger had just had his crash so she flew to the uk for the weekend to support him and when she was driving him back to boarding school she was happy because she had 2 hours to spend with him and she wasn't sure when she'd see him again but instead he slept the whole way through and the moment they got back to school he went "ahhhh... home sweet home" and she wanted to slap him lmfao

first day of primary school when he was 5 years old he said he didn't need her to walk him to school and she was like "well i actually do mate" so he forced her to walk behind him the whole way and the moment they got there he turned to her and went "all right i'm here you can go now" 😭

the chinese & italian & yugoslavian is on chris's side of the family while nicole's is scottish & irish ("that's where the pasty skin comes from")

red flags pod sent her a shirt with oscar's face composed of His Tweet and she showed it to him and he immediately said he wanted it

he gave her a small warning before he posted the tweet but it was just like "mum so this is going to happen just don't worry about it. it's all under control. it'll be fine" and was very calm the whole time

"we just had to trust that his personality would come through at some point, because the way he came across was not at all what he's like. people will work out who the real you is so just continue to do what you do" 🥺

all of the kids were obsessed with Cars (2006)

likes his mum's golden syrup dumplings and grandmother's rumballs

AT THE SINGAPORE GP IN 2023 HATTIE DISAPPEARED FOR HOURS TO GO SEE A K-POP CONCERT 😭😭😭😭 i think it was p1h lmfao (nicole was asked for her favorite group and went "i have no idea. five boys") ((it's txt)) meanwhile oscar is only into house music and she thinks everything he plays is the same song

did pilates when he went home but never with her and thinks it's a lot harder than it looks

takes him minimum 24 hours to respond to anything she sends

she had an exact conversation with oscar where she asked who he wanted to be teammates with and he said "well if i go up against lando i don't even have to get close the first year because everyone knows how good he is" 😭

oscar you are so you 🧡

[sakuravalelp]

The Dance Academy isn't a gang- DC X DP Prompt

Inspired by this prompt

Clockwork suggests to Danny, who's been the king of the infinite realms for 6 years now, that he should take sometime off in a mortal realm. He doesn't feel like going back to his own dimension (you choose the reason), so Clockwork suggest another dimension where he thinks Danny might have fun.

Danny investigates the dimension, and finds it is a dimension where some humans, who are called meta-humans, develop powers, mostly during their childhood. Danny knows how tiring and alienating it is to grow with powers that one have to hide. He wishes to give this kids a safe space to experiment with their powers, but not as a weapon, just as part of themself.

He chooses to create a dance academy, because dancing is something in which you use your body and express yourself. It would be an excellent way to encourage this kids to use their powers while enjoying themself. He decides to open the dance academy in Gotham, were it seems metas may feel more pressure to keep themself hidden. With his ability to see and feel the differences in soul it's easy to identify metas, so he starts scouting kids for the academy.

Of course convincing the kids that it's just a a dance academy that wants to create a save space for metas, instead is of a trafficking ring, is difficult. But once he gets the first couple kids in, slowly more come too.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Bruce is worried about the new possible meta gang that it's forming on Gotham, and sends Duke undercover.

It's hasn't been long since Duke joined the bats, and this is his first official undercover mission. He's excited at the start, feeling proud that he's been trusted with an independent job, but then he finds out that the "gang" it's just a dance academy. He's a little disappointed, thinking that this job is more of a probation thing than anything, since there isn't anything suspicious.

The bats tell him to stay in the dance academy, because maybe the dance thing is just a cover up and they'll reveal their real motives when he's actually accepted in the group. And Duke takes it as them wanting him to have a meta support system. See? He's learning to understand how the bats show love to each other!

Duke finds himself enjoying being in a dance group. It's a lot of fun. Danny it's fantastic, he has a lot of powers and isn't scare to show them. Which makes everyone in the group feel so much safer to use their own.

Danny encourages them to integrate their powers in their dance. It's freeing. Their powers are treated as a normal part of them, and not as this exotic ability that has to be controlled. It's such a safe space that all of them have gotten used to using their powers for day to day stuff when in the dance studio. It all feels so casual because no one bats an eye to it. There's no talk about how they should try to do things "normally," or limit their use of their power.

Danny: "Why would you? That's your normal, and this place is safe for you to just be you."

Duke realizes a bit late that the bats were actually suspicious of the group, and that his placement there wasn't really a probation. He's glad to know he was actually trusted with a job, but, he had really thought that every time they had asked about his day with the group was because they were interested in how he was doing. That they were showing love and interest in him in that evasive ways the bats did, and it kinda suck to know it wasn't the case. It also meant that he had to confront their family in their clear meta-discrimination.

"Would you have been so suspicious if it wasn't a meta group? No. Other than them all being metas there wasn't anything off. No proof of fights, no proof of robberies, no proof of trafficking, nothing.

There's no proof of anything other than a group of teens dancing, and you know that because you checked it out before sending me.

Like, I don't blame you for checking it, I'm not naive, but you were so sure it was a gang, just because they were metas. That's fucked up guys."

[yawnderu]

Adoration — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Content: fluff, pregnant!reader, horrible dad jokes.

Our small talk was quite big to me. You know I love you, yeah? My entire life, I always wanted the most simple things. A cup of tea, a normal family, nice food, to be loved and accepted. To find comfort in someone, for the first time ever.

"Earth to Simon." You say teasingly, a hand being waved slowly near his eyes, as if to see if he was focusing on you. He gives you a questioning look, raising a blonde eyebrow stained with eyeblack.

"Seemed a bit lost there." You give his cheek a kiss and you could swear you felt it heat up right after. He returns it, of course, giving you an overly wet kiss on the cheek that makes you recoil and scrunch up your face in mock disgust, dragging a quiet laugh out of him. The sound is beautiful, something your enamored brain can never fully process no matter how many times you hear it.

"I'm here." He replies, arms wrapping around your waist as he brings you closer to his naked body, one hand now gently holding the back of your head as your cheek touches his chest.

"I'm here." He repeats, voice quieter as he looks down at you. The image of you has always been the lens in which he can see the world with love. Reserved for you— his hand trails down, running down your skin delicately before settling on your tummy. —and the life growing inside of you.

"I've been thinking about retiring." He says it so casually you take a few seconds to process, blinking a few times before looking up at him with a mix of confusion and excitement in your face.

"Really?" He doesn't blame you for not believing it— hell, he doesn't even believe it himself. His whole life has been dedicated to putting his life on the line, what else can he do? He'll find something. Anything.

"Yeah." He confirms, planting a soft kiss on your forehead as his hand keeps gently holding your stomach, hoping he can feel the baby kicking.

"There's too much to lose now that I have my girls with me." And he doesn't wanna take the risk anymore. He wants to grow old with you, and he wants to see his girl grow. Maybe even have a couple more kids later on.

His words are met with a soft peck, your hand gently running through his short, bleached hair.

"Are you sure?" He doesn't even hesitate before nodding, bringing your naked body closer to his, wanting to feel everything he missed out on his whole life.

"Already spoke with the old man. Said he'd support me either way." He chuckled softly, thinking back on his conversation with Price. The man was barely 10 years older than him, yet in a way, he was a father figure for Simon. Someone to look up to, a mentor.

He still remembers the first time you and Simon confirmed you were together, and how Price promised to keep his lips sealed despite fraternization being frowned upon. Price knew it would happen either way, looking at the way Simon's eyes softened when you were introduced to the team. The way he was always next to you, paying special attention to you during missions despite knowing you're part of the 141 because you're a capable soldier. Price would tease him in private about his obvious crush on you and Simon would simply say he's seeing things because of dementia.

"Then I'll retire too." You confirm, and before he can open his mouth to protest, you keep talking.

"I'm not risking our girl growing up without a mother. Can't imagine forcing her to deal with your bad jokes alone." You tease and the corners of his lips tilt up, eyes glistening with... something. You know that look.

"No, don't st—" You try to get up from bed and he gently pulls you closer, the same smug smile on his lips that shows he knows he's about to do something awful.

"What do you call a fish wearing a bowtie?" You groan loudly and try to escape his grasp, a smile tugging at your lips as he holds you even closer, planting a bunch of kisses all over your face while you try your best not to giggle.

"Sofishticated." He says bluntly, looking down at you to see your reaction. You simply look away, trying to have a serious expression yet... his jokes are so bad they're funny. A small giggle escapes you before you're full on laughing, trying to move him away from you so you can escape the never ending nightmare of his dad jokes, his low laugh coming from somewhere behind you while he holds you closer, thinking of more jokes he read online just to tell you. You are the shelter in which I find strength to carry on. Thank you.

[simpee9000]

Not Just Friends - 10 -

M.List : Prologue : Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Part 6 : Part 7 : Part 8 : Part 9 : Words 3.1k

Childhood best friends turned into something more, at least with the label. Katsuki Bakugo, a fast-rising hero and fast-learning guy who is ever so slow in getting attached to and loving someone. Even three long years into a relationship, and your friends even forget you're even dating. Nothing happening, spare a few kisses.. like 3 kisses, during high school. Graduated and living together, and you guys have done absolutely nothing to further the relationship. Are you sure you're not just friends? Also not edited!! CW: Smut, brief domestic violence discussion, virginity loss, aggressive flirting from creeps, gore with pro hero stuff (lmk if i missed any) Applies to all chapters regardless of it is in said chapter.

It was a turn back to normal after the long conversation between the two of you. Tears sliding down your faces, majority yours but you saw a couple fall from his. It was a necessary conversation. He opened up about his quirk and apologized for ditching you. You apologize for the same.

Easily enough, the two of you moved on from it quickly. Talking about the past two months when all the overwhelming emotions passed. You blabbed about how many new offers you were getting and he talked about how he was hiring more and more people to his agency.

Despite not being able to ignore the last two months, it was easy to move past.

Growing past it within the night, having everything off your chest. It still didn't make things go back to normal.

You continued to share a bed, but changed your schedules around again to see more of each other. Flipping back into your old routine as much as possible. Not without a few changes though. Lunches would only be once a week rather than daily, and you'd be working for another hour or two after he got home. Since you wanted to sleep in still.

But it still improved your relationship again. Building it back up slowly. You were able to eat a late dinner together each night and share an off day. Sharing your off day made it easier for you anyway. After the break-in it was hard to be home without him, so the last two months were rough. Your therapist said you were doing great though, so that helped.

The first days of going back to normal was rough, having to adjust to seeing each other daily again. Conversations between the two of you felt awkward, mainly on your side. You grew so much in those two months, no longer relying on him. It shifted the dynamic.

"Y'good?" Katsuki's gruff voice broke your train of thought. Your eyes flickered up to him.

"Huh?"

"Been fuckin' playin' with your food," he points his fork at your plate, "Don't like it or some shit?"

"No, I like it," you looked back down. It was definitely not your favorite meal he made, but it was good.

His silverware claddered roughly against his plate, his arms crossing, "The fuck has been wrong with you?"

"Do you have to swear with every sentence?" you avoided, taking a bite of your food instead.

You could feel him roll his eyes along with his heavy sigh, "You've been off since."

"A relationship doesn't heal just like that," you pointed out.

"Will you look at me?" he asked annoyed. A glance up at his expression made you cut your attitude. He was trying, that much was obvious. And after all your talk of communication, you were doing nothing.

"Sorry," you set your fork down, engaging in the conversation, "I'm just lost? I guess. Hard to place it. I've changed a lot in the past two months-"

"How?"

You glared at him for interrupting you. "I've stopped prioritizing you. I'm more focused on myself now. It's hard to go back to normal when the 'normal,' was me running circles around you."

He shuffled in his seat, "That's fine. I'm glad you've moved on in that sense, done you good."

"You're not worried how it'll change us?" you asked softly, it's been all you were thinking of for the past few weeks.

"I'm always fuckin' worried," he admitted, eyes drifting to look at the wall instead of you, "But we'll work it out."

You were glad he still viewed the two of you as a 'we,' heart melting slightly as you reached your hand across the table. "I'm not going to tip-toe around you anymore, Kats."

"Good," he gruffed out, uncrossing his arms and grabbing onto your hand. Changing his focus onto that, "I don't want you to."

"Good," you agreed, smiling at how he let his thumb trace over your knuckles.

"You, um," he fumbled for a minute, eyebrows furrowing, "You're still okay with us not doing shit right?"

"I'd never push that," you confirmed, shocked he even thought you would complain about that.

"Don't get me wrong, I would, just-" he pulled his hands back wiping them on his pants before running them down his face, "my dumb fuckin' quirk."

"You love your quirk," you pointed out.

"Yeah and I'd fuckin' love to touch my girlfriend but no, I gotta be a horny virgin 'cause of it," he groaned, crossing his arms again.

Stifling a laugh was difficult, but you managed, "Maybe we can just work up to it? Get you used to the baseline first before, that."

His quirk went off suddenly, "Can't even fuckin' think of it," he groaned, standing up to go wash his hands off.

"It's cute." You followed behind him to place dishes in the skin, having cleared your plates a while ago.

"Fuck you."

"Hey," you laughed, "At least you can tell Denki and Sero that you beat them at No Nut November. And have for the past 19 years."

He shot you a glare from the sink, "The one challenge I wouldn't want to beat, great."

"It's what makes you number one to me, baby," you teased, kissing his shoulder as you moved past him, wanting to pester him while the mood was light and he was already flustered. It was nice how easy it was to move past something with him. But you wanted to test how much he'd react to you not tiptoeing around him anymore.

With success, his quirk popped off again.

"Fuck off."

You let out a crackle of laughter, "You're too easy."

"Die."

He finally stopped washing his hands, turning to dry them off. You watched from the counter, plotting. "Your back looks nice," you commented, his muscles have been more defined lately and you only got to appreciate it now. His tank top showcases his shoulders nicely.

He froze for a moment, side-eyeing you. "Do you want to get blown up or something?"

"No, do you want to get blown?" you asked back, letting Denki's crude humor influence you.

Like a charm, his quirk sparked off. "Quit it."

"Nah, it's too much fun," you smiled at him, kicking off the counter you were leaning on and moving to leave the kitchen. Hand squeezing his bicep when you walked by.

He didn't let you get even a step away before he grabbed your hand and pulled you into him. His hands grabbing at your hips and moving to push you into the counter. "Where do y'think you're goin'?" he smirked down at you.

Your face bloomed a deep shade, blushing harshly at how close he was. He hasn't been that close since you argued two months ago.

"Nothin' to say?"

You blinked up at him, trying to steady the rapid beating of your heart with the way he was tracing circles onto your hips.

"Might like you but that doesn't mean I'll let you say shit and get away with it," he crowded you closer to the counter.

"What happened to your quirk?" you whispered, losing your voice at the proximity.

"You offered to work up to it, right?" he brushed his hands clean on his shirt briefly before going back to your hips.

"Yeah," you looked down at his hands, trying to make sure the watch was off.

"It's off," he confirmed, twisting his wrist so you could see. When you looked back up at him, he held his gaze deeply, "What happened to that smart mouth?"

"Want me to show you?" you placed your hands on his chest, running over the span of his shoulders. Your body was on fire, the two of you flirted, sure, but this was different. His quirk was fully there. He was fully there.

His eyes lidded slightly, zeroing in his focus on your lips, "Fuck yeah I do."

Your lips closed the gap between the two of you. It wasn't as soft and nervous as all the past kisses, it was something you just threw yourself in. Stomach crazy with butterflies as your mind started buzzing. His hands tightened their grip on your hips as he stepped even closer to you.

Bodies curled into each other to get closer. Your hands digging into the hair at the base of his neck as you deepened the kiss. Full of passion and sexual tension. There was hardly any innocence to the kiss, and if there was, it faded within seconds.

A sigh of relief falling from your lips when his hands slipped under your shirt, brushing over your skin roughly. Fingers being callused and dry from work.

As soon as his hands met your skin he pulled away frantically. Pulling his body from yours completely before his quirk started popping off.

"Fuck me," he groaned in frustration, grabbing a dish towel and wiping his hands off.

"I wish I could," you teased.

He shot you a glare, blush flaring all over his face and coating his neck with a red. "Stop," he grumbled.

"Stop what?"

"Stop looking at me like that," he shied away, washing his hands in water for a moment.

You paused for a moment, considering how you looked. With how flushed his face was you could tell you were no better. Lips plumped and freshly kissed red as your shirt was ruffled up from his hands as you leaned back into the counter. "Why would I? You clearly like what you see?"

The confidence within you came from nowhere. There has been sexual tension between the two of you before, many times before. Even before he had the watch. But normally you had to be drunk as hell to make such obvious jokes towards him, especially ones about sex. Maybe it was the fact that it was on the table, when before it wasn't. You knew he wanted it as much as you did.

"Fuck off," he grumbled.

"Come on, Kats," you pushed your luck.

"I love you, but please stop whatever the fuck you're doing before we need a new apartment," he spoke without thought, freezing the second he realized what he said.

You barked out a laugh, he spoke so plainly. You didn't want him to get wrapped up in his head, so you ignored the rushing butterflies over his admissions. "Fine, fine," you gave in, smiling happily at him, "Hug?"

He looked at you, untrusting of you before he opened his arms, gesturing you near.

Taking the moment, you threw yourself in his arms. Wrapping your arms around his waist he pulled you in fully. Letting you rest your head on his chest as he rested his on yours.

Everything felt secure in your relationship, you'd move one step at a time together. With a lot of teasing between, but that was common between you and him, despite the lack of it lately.

"I love you too, by the way," you mumbled into his chest, having a happy feeling travel through your body at the small number of times he's actually said it.

"I know."

You moved slightly to look up at him, his eyes fell on yours before you spoke, "Are you hard?"

He glared sharply, embarrassment covering his features as you felt him grow hot. You were going to ignore the feeling of him pressing into your lower stomach, but decided you wanted the chance to rub it in his face that you have the upper hand here. He tried to pull away, only for you to keep your grip.

"Stop," he warned, his hands raised away from you.

"It's only a little spark, Kats," you tried to comfort.

With a roll of his eyes he smiled evilly down at you, "You asked for it," before you could protest, he wiped his sweaty hands on your face before rubbing the rest of it off on your sweater, down your chest.

"Katsuki! That's gross," you pulled away from him, using your sleeve to wipe away the damp residue of his sweat off your cheek before you pulled the bottom of your shirt out, seeing if he got sweat marks on it. "You just used that as an excuse to touch my tits," you glared at him, seeing the faint marks of his handprint on your shirt, right over your tits. It surprised you that he sweat enough to leave a mark.

He laughed sharply, walking out of the kitchen, "Got no proof, Brains."

"I literally have the proof of your hands on my tits," you called out to him.

He looked over you, "How do I know those are mine?"

"Really? Cause I'd let a random guy grope me and he'd be sweaty enough to leave a mark like you do," you snarked.

"No way to know," he shrugged.

"You're such an ass," you groaned.

His phone buzzing loudly cut off his laughter.

"This late?" you asked as you eyed his work phone.

"It's PR," he said as he furrowed his brows, answering the phone, "Dynamight."

You heard mumbling for a moment before he huffed and put his phone on speaker. "Can she hear me now?" the lady's voice rang through, the same manager you've spoken with before.

"Hello," you answered for him, "What can I do?"

"You've done quite enough," she spoke abruptly. It took a lot to get her mad, so to have pissed her off five words was a record. "People are spreading pictures of you crying in the middle of the street."

Katsuki's eyes shot to you, concerned.

"They also claim to of heard you talking to Deku, saying you said his name several times."

His concerned look turned to a glare quickly.

"I can explain that," you said quickly before Katsuki added his two cents, "I was having a rough time and decided to call a friend, simple."

She laughed, "It's not the simple. It was the night of your party. And with the lack of social outings between Dynamight and you, people are saying the two of you broken up."

"Why does this matter?" you asked annoyed. It was still a sore subject.

"It matters because bad things are being said about the two of you. It's not just Dynamight's image anymore, but yours too. They're saying he's abusive while also saying that you're sleeping your way to the top."

You've heard that said too many times to count. Both things. So filled with anger, you grabbed the phone from Katsuki's hand and hung up.

"The fuck?"

"I don't know! I'm annoyed," you huffed, tossing his phone onto the couch before pacing, "I'm sick of people talking."

"I get it's annoying but you're gonna hear it-"

"Not helping," you glared at him.

"PR helps get them to knock it off," he pushed.

"She hardly says anything but the obvious," you rolled your eyes, "We can just post a picture of us or something."

"How does that prove I don't hit you?"

You paused your pacing, "Under a truth quirk I said the worst thing about you was your socks. I think if you abused me I would have said that."

He gave up his fight with a shrug, moving to sit on the couch instead.

"Don't get me wrong, it pisses me off that they say that. There is just no way to prove otherwise. Nothing is ever enough for them," you corrected, not wanting him to get the idea that you were only concerned for yourself.

"If you think that, why are you so pissed right now?" he crossed his arms.

You shook your eyes off the flex of his arms, throwing your hands up in frustration, "Because everyone says that, I hate hearing it."

"What do you mean?"

"Everyone thinks you hit me or some bullshit," you huff.

"Everyone?"

"Like people that don't know you," you changed, "you're a softy and they ignore it.

"Who you callin soft?" he sat up straight.

You smiled at him, "Kats, you can't even look mad at me."

He glared at you, eyebrows being the only thing supporting it. His eyes were soft. "Die."

"Let's just forget about it," you sighed, not wanting to talk about the press or your relationship. Nothing stressful.

"Why were you even cryin' to Deku?"

"You," you admitted shamefully, looking away. Talking about this would be stressful.

When he said nothing, you turned back to him. He was staring out the window. The view was filled with city lights.

"I only called him 'cause I couldn't call you," you comforted, stepping closer to him.

"Could always call me," he spoke softly.

"Kats," at this point you were standing right in front of him

"Yeah?"

You swallowed quickly, "We don't need to do everything together."

He took a deep breath, "I know, just want you to know you can call me, no matter what."

"I already know that," you smiled fondly at him. It was one of the best things about him. No matter how mad he was at a friend or family, he would never ignore them if they needed anything, even a random call. He might ignore a stupid text, but he never missed a call from someone close to him.

"Good."

"Maybe," he looked up at you, "We don't do anything publically? If they think I'm dating you then good, if they think I'm not, I don't care."

"If you want," he shrugged.

"You don't mind?" you step closer to him, him making space for you by manspreading further.

"Not really, just don't go making 'em think you're dating that damn nerd."

"Okay."

"Want somethin'?" he looked at you with a brow up. His eyes flickering from your chest to your face.

"Seems like you do," you smiled, inviting yourself more into his personal space by straddling him, both knees by his side.

"What are you doing?" his hands were pushed outwards, far from you.

"It's fine," you hushed him, sitting your weight on his lap.

"We didn't even do this stuff with the watch," he hissed at you, face flushed.

"Yes we did," you looked at him confused, "I made you cum y-"

"Shut it," he huffed, hands popping with the sound of his quirk, "Get off."

"Look, if you really want to, I will, but I don't think you want me to," you didn't want to force him into anything.

"What even put you in this mood?" he glared at you.

"You looked at my tits," you shrugged.

"Cause you still have my handprint on em," he smirked proudly.

You looked down at them quickly, "Bakugo."

"What? It's how it should be."

"Will it stain?"

"Shouldn't."

"I hate you," you glared at him.

"Sure, cause one glance at your tits makes you wanna jump me, cause you hate me," he was too cocky.

"Shut up you can hardly kiss me without losing your mind," you fought back.

"Kissed ya earlier didn't I?"

"Barely, come on, kiss me like a man-"

Forgetting his prior reluctance, he pulled you into him. Connecting your lips in a messy kiss as his hand held you to him by the back of your neck. Slowly losing its grip before sliding down to your waist. Losing himself into the kiss just as you were.

You were shocked he was even kissing you, cherishing the win regardless. Moving more onto him. Wrapping your arms around him, scratching at his scalp as you pulled on his hair.

The groan that left his lips encouraged you to push down more in his lap, wanting something more. You could never get enough of him. Anything he'd give, you'd take.

A rough push of yourself onto him caused his quirk to go off, not just a small spark either.

It singed your top, burning your skin.

You jumped off his lap once he let go, holding your sides.

His hand was placed right over your old scar.

Posted late cause I forgot to finish the chapter, and the tag list is being a bitch rn. (phone is glitching and laptop is weird) if it's fucked up mb.

---

-Next Part-

In them m.list of this fic comment if you want to be added into a tag list <3

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[girlgenius1111]

throw it all away part 2

part 2 of 2 :) [putellas!reader] just because she knows, now, doesn't mean the path to recovery is straightforward. alexia struggles to help you the way you need. you struggle to even want help. tw: this is a fic about r struggling with an ED. proceed with caution.

—

The protein shake glass sat empty in front of you when Alexia walked into the kitchen. Olga was in the chair next to you, rubbing your back slowly. There were tears running down your face, but your expression was stony. 

Alexia took the seat next to you without a second thought, pulling you into her side. “I’m proud of you.”

“I hate myself.” You murmured, almost against your will. “This shouldn’t be so hard. It’s ridiculous.” 

“It’s not ridiculous,” Alexia objected. “It’s okay. This happens, it’s normal, pequeña.” 

You looked at her strangely, pulling away from her embrace and your sister winced at her own words, scrambling to fix her mistake. “I just mean this is how you’re supposed to feel. In recovery, this is normal. It’s going to be hard, but you just have to push through and-”

“Ale,” Olga interrupted, shaking her head gently. 

Alexia looked back at you, falling silent as she did so. Your cheeks were burning with embarrassment, or maybe anger, and you were staring at the plate in front of you like it had personally harmed you. The blonde couldn’t take the look on your face, wanted more than anything to just say the right thing and have all the answers for you, and she started blabbering again before she could stop herself. 

“You did a really good job finishing your protein shake-”

At this, you rolled your eyes, and Alexia started talking faster. 

“-maybe we can get your favorite takeout for dinner? The pasta place you like, with the– ow, Olga.” 

Again, Alexia fell silent, rubbing her arm where her girlfriend had elbowed her. Olga was shooting her a look and your sister sighed, rubbing at her forehead with her hand. Obviously discussing food was a no go, she should know better than that. She thought hard, trying to think of anything that would make you feel better, get rid of the horribly sad frown on your face. 

“Maybe you can come to training tomorrow and watch! So you don’t miss out on too much, and-”

“Alexia, for the love of god, shut up.” You snapped, throwing your hands up in the air and rising from your chair. 

“Pequeña, I’m just trying to-” 

“You don’t want me to miss out on too much training, I got it. Football is the most important thing. I know that, Alexia. I know. I know I’m fucking my season right now, I know I’m fucking the team, so please just, for once, stop talking about fucking football.” 

Alexia couldn’t help the hurt that panged in her chest, or the pained look she was sure flashed across her face. You felt guilt split your chest open at the sight, but you pushed that away, trying to hold onto your anger, which was quickly fading. 

“I’m going to the bathroom.” You turned to walk out of the room, but Olga’s voice behind you made you freeze in your tracks. 

“Nena? Can you leave the door open a crack please?” 

You felt everything inside of you seize up at her words, shame and frustration and embarrassment and hurt welling up, until a few tears fell down your cheeks. God, you hated that they knew. They didn’t even know but they knew, and that was awful. Incomparably, singularly awful. 

“Why does she have to– oh.” Alexia said. She hadn’t really considered that as a possibility. She thought you just weren’t eating. This seemed… worse, somehow. When you turned around to look at her, you could tell she thought it was worse. 

“Yeah.” You agreed, turning back around and practically stomping out of the room. 

As soon as you were gone, Alexia turned to her girlfriend. “How did you know she was… doing that?” 

Olga exhaled heavily, leaning back in her chair. The two of you were going to give her a migraine, but she didn’t really blame you. Alexia on the other hand…

“I didn’t. I wasn’t sure, but I asked her to leave the door open just in case. Her reaction, though… she is.” 

“Oh.” Alexia mumbled, unconsciously reaching for her girlfriend’s hand. Olga pulled away with a shake of her head, sitting up straighter in her chair. 

“Ale, you have to relax. Talking her ear off isn’t helping right now, she’s already overwhelmed.” 

“I’m just trying to help!”

“I know you are, amor, but you have to think about how she’s feeling right now,” 

“But I don’t know how she’s feeling! I want to, but I don’t understand! I can’t understand. Keeping your body healthy is the most important thing in football, and I don’t understand why she’s done this, because I would never do this. How am I supposed to help if I don’t understand? I can’t, Olga. I can’t fix this.” 

Both women were speaking too loudly to hear your footsteps returning to the kitchen, though you paused just outside the doorway, catching the end of your sister’s sentence. 

I can't fix this. she'd said. 

I can’t understand. 

I would never do this. 

How am I supposed to help?

It sounded like she’d already given up on you. She’d decided she couldn’t understand, couldn’t help, and it was all your fault. For pushing away her attempts to help earlier, snapping at her when you knew she was just trying to make you feel better. You felt like a lost cause, but now she felt that way about you too. 

You took a deep breath, walking back into the kitchen before Olga could reply. You looked oddly pale and shaky, and though it was because you’d overheard your sister and misunderstood, Ale didn’t know that. She glanced over at you, doing a double take as her eyes widened. 

“Nena, did you…?” 

Next to the blonde, Olga suppressed a sigh. You blinked at her for a second, confused, before recoiling backwards, a scowl etched onto your face. “No. I left the door open like you told me to, and I didn’t do anything.” 

Alexia relaxed, just barely, clearly about to say something else that would be entirely wrong when Olga spoke first. 

“Why don’t you go upstairs and take a little bit, pequeña? It’s been a long day, you must be exhausted and overwhelmed.” 

Your sister nodded her agreement, and you felt your heart sink even further if possible. Of course they didn’t want to deal with you anymore today. You didn’t say you’d rather be with them, because the loneliness would be almost too much to bear. You just nodded, eyes fixed on the hardwood floor under you as you turned and left the room once more.

—

Alexia felt slightly more prepared to talk to you when she knocked on your door a half hour later. She’d done some quick research, compiling another list in her head of what to say and what not to say. She’d tried to convince Olga to go up and check on you instead of her, because all the midfielder seemed to be able to do today was mess up, but Olga had insisted that it be Alexia. You needed your sister, and Alexia needed to make up for the absolute disaster she’d been earlier. 

All she got in response to her knock was a sharp huff. 

“Chiqui? Can I come in?” 

“I guess.” You called back. Alexia opened your door, slipping inside and finding you sprawled on your bed, staring hard at the ceiling. 

She hovered in the doorway uncertainly, opening and closing her mouth a few times before she settled on what she wanted to say. “How are you feeling?”

“How do you think I’m feeling?” You snapped, glaring at her harshly. 

“Hey,” Alexia tried, though she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to scold you for catching an attitude with her. She didn’t know what any of the rules were anymore. 

You shook your head with an annoyed huff. “What do you want, Ale? I thought I didn’t need to talk any more today.”  

And Olga had promised you that. Alexia was just hoping, perhaps naively, that you’d want to talk to her more. Instead, it seemed like you were barely holding yourself back from forcibly shoving your sister out of your room.

Any other time, any other situation, Alexia would have shouted at you to be respectful. Both of you knew that. It only made you feel worse that she felt that she had to tiptoe around you. She was treating you differently already and you hated that. 

Alexia studied you for a few moments, before walking over to your bed and taking a seat on the edge of it. She put her hand on your shoulder, but you shrugged it off, and Alexia bit her lip.  You noticed she was wearing this absurd shirt you’d gotten her as a joke a few years ago, one that proclaimed her as the world’s best sister. Really, you’d given it to Ale to spite Alba after arguing with her, though you’d also gotten Alba one a few days later, just to make sure her feelings weren’t hurt. Alexia wearing it now could have been completely accidental, or it could have been some kind of weird confidence boost she was trying to give herself. Either way, you felt emotion try to claw out of the pit you’d shoved it into, but you pushed it down again. 

“I just want to help you.” The blonde said finally, her hands fiddling with a stray thread on your comforter. 

You scoffed, sitting up off your bed and turning to face your sister. “You don’t mean that.” 

Alexia’s head whipped up to look at you, an absolutely crestfallen look on her face. “Of course I do. Why would you say that?” 

“You don’t. You said so earlier, you don’t understand, you can’t understand, you’d never do this. How are you supposed to help? You can’t, so don’t pretend that you want to.” You were fully crying now, pacing around your room but absolutely refusing to make eye contact with Alexia. 

The midfielder’s heart sank as you threw her words back at her. She hadn’t known you’d overheard her, hadn’t realized how that had sounded. She’d been begging Olga to give her some guidance, not expressing that she’d given up on you, that she didn't really want to help you. 

“Oh, mi pequeña,” Alexia whispered, standing and pulling you into a hug. You didn’t hug her back, even as her arms wrapped tight around you, and she pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “That’s not what I meant, not at all. I’ve never been through this, nena, and it’s hard for me to understand, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to help you. I do, more than anything.” 

“You shouldn’t bother. It’s hopeless, I can’t do this.” You sobbed, finally hugging Alexia back, clinging on tightly to her shirt. 

“It’s not hopeless. It might feel like it is, but I am never going to give up on you, on trying to understand, on trying to help. Never, nena.” 

You pulled away for her, guilt once again replacing anger. Taking a few shuddering breaths, you tried to get your thoughts in order, or, you supposed, your feelings in order. You looked at your sister again, her arms at her sides as she looked at you helplessly. 

“You’re being too patient with me.” You whispered, sitting down heavily on the edge of your bed. 

Alexia took a seat next to you, feeling like maybe… maybe she did know what to say. “No. I don’t think I’m being patient enough.”

You shook your head, though still allowed your sister to grab your hand in hers. Whether it was for your comfort or for hers, you weren’t sure. Maybe both. “I’m not…I’m not sick. This problem, it’s all mental. I don’t deserve for everyone to be this kind and this patient. I chose this.”

There was a certain guilt that accompanied all of this. A real sickness, in your mind, wasn’t something that a person inflicted onto themselves. This was your fault. You had started it, you had continued it, and you’d let it get so bad that other people had to intervene. You didn’t deserve your sister’s patience. 

Alexia gripped your hand tighter. “You are sick. Your brain is sick. And while you get better, you deserve all the kindness and patience. You made choices that got you here, but you are sick, hermanita. Just a different type than you’re used to.” 

You looked at her tearfully, an almost pleading expression on your face. “I don’t know how to get better, Ale. I don’t know if I can.” 

Alexia understood, then, that you weren’t pushing her away because you didn’t want her help, necessarily. You just didn’t want to waste her time when the task ahead of you felt so entirely impossible. 

“I don’t know either. I don’t really know how to help you, but I’m going to find out, and I’m going to do it. Whatever it takes, nena. You are my baby sister, and you are worth the effort. I’m not going to give up on you. Not ever.” 

For a moment, you looked at Alexia like you used to look at her. When you were tiny and she was your perfect, safe older sister. Your Ale, who let you sleep in her bed after bad dreams, who double knotted your shoelaces in the morning, and carried your backpack to class. Who taught you how to kick a football, and that you could be anything you wanted. You looked at Alexia like she’d hung the stars and the moon, like she could do anything. 

That look used to make her feel like she could do anything, your belief in her something she could always count on. Now, the determination in Alexia’s eyes made you feel like you could do anything, just for a moment. You needed more than a moment, though.

—

If it wasn’t bad enough that you couldn’t play, couldn’t train, couldn’t even spend time in the gym without close supervision, you were seeing the specialist psychologist that the club had brought in every single day. The first few sessions didn’t heed much. It seemed she was trying to create a rapport with you, getting to know you before she tried to get you to bare your soul to her. 

It was after your fourth session with your therapist, Lucia, that she began to press you to talk about the issue at hand. And it was after your fourth session that you found yourself speed walking out of Lucia’s office, not watching where you were going, tears streaming down your cheeks. 

You were desperately hoping not to run into any of your teammates, as the facts of what was going on had been kept strictly between the captains and the coaching staff. Your teammates, however, would have had to be blind to not realize something was going on. All they’d been told was that you were out of training and matches for the time being. 

Maybe some of them would have asked more questions if not for the terrifying shadow that your sister had become. She walked you to Lucia’s office every day, tried her best to be waiting outside when you were done. Any time you spent with the team, normally just coming out to the pitch to say hello, Alexia hovered behind you, shooting anyone a death glare if they so much as looked like they were going to ask you something deeper than “how are you?” 

You half wondered if your Mami had put her up to this, because the last time you’d seen Alexia this protective was when you were 6, and you’d been getting teased at school. A few words from Eli to Alexia had your sister walking you to your classroom one morning, and making verbal threats to half the boys in the room. Alexia had been scary then, even as a teenager, and her actions had been more than effective. 

This behavior might just be all Alexia, although you knew she’d told Eli and Alba what’s been going on. You didn’t want them to know, and Alexia had hesitantly agreed not to tell them. Later, though, Olga had pulled you aside and said that it would probably be helpful to both you and Alexia to have other opinions involved, and for Alexia not to carry the stress of this all on her own. She had a point, there, and you’d given Ale the go ahead to inform your Mami and Alba. She’d done so, but aside from phone calls from each of them, they’d been respecting your space. 

Everyone, really, had been respecting your space. Aside from a new meal plan from the team’s nutritionists that you’d been trying your best to follow, no one had been forcing you to talk. 

Until today. 

Lucia had pushed you for the first time, and you’d tried your best to be open with her. It went against every instinct you had, though, and you could barely stick to a narrative with Lucia. For half the conversation, you’d admitted that there was a problem. For the other half, you’d denied it, until you were sure you’d contradicted yourself several times. 

She’d let you go 10 minutes early, probably because you were in tears and had gone pretty much silent on her; she must have decided she’d pushed you enough for the day. It was in this state, tears falling freely down your face, that you exited her office. You turned the corner towards the changing room, intending to grab your bag from your locker and see if Olga would come pick you up early, instead plowing directly into Mapi. 

“Woah! Where’s the fire?” She joked, grabbing your arms to steady you. Her smile fell, though, when she saw that you were crying. “Pequeña? You okay?” 

It was clear for anyone to see that you weren’t okay, but Mapi wasn’t quite sure how willing you’d be to talk to her, so she decided to give you an out in case you wanted to go find your sister instead. Mapi wasn’t expecting the broken sob that you let out, or the way that you shook your head, so easily admitting that something was wrong after so long of pretending the opposite to be true. 

“Do you want me to go get Ale?” The defender asked softly. 

Again, you shook your head. How could you explain that you were crying because of your sister to your sister. “N-no. She’s busy.” 

“She wouldn’t mind, nena, you know that.” 

That was entirely the problem. She was being too patient, too perfect, it was almost overwhelming. There was too much pressure on you to be perfect, too. A perfect recovery didn’t exist, but you felt like it had to. For Ale, for Lucia, for the club and the team. It felt like you were hurtling towards some unknown end, the pressure building everyday. You weren’t sure how much more you could take. 

“She’s dealing with enough of this. It’s fine. I’m fine.” You spoke as if you were trying to convince yourself, but the wobbling of your voice gave you away. 

“Venga,” Mapi sighed, opening her arms for a hug. She half expected you to reject her, but was pleasantly surprised when you stepped forward and wrapped yourself tight around her. You were trembling, and she tightened her grip on you, wondering if she should ignore what you’d said and go get Alexia anyway. She didn’t want to betray your trust, though, and it seemed very obvious that you didn’t want to see your sister at the moment, so Mapi settled for some empty words she hoped were somewhat comforting.

“It’s all gonna be okay, pequeña. Whatever it is, you’re going to be okay.” 

“How do you know?” You mumbled, sniffling into the shoulder of her training top, half embarrassed and half too tired to even care.

Mapi rubbed your back slowly, thinking on her answer. She just… knew.

 “You don’t give up. You’re a determined person, and you can do anything you put your mind to. Whatever is going on isn’t any different. You’re strong enough for anything, nena.”

Pulling away, you wiped at your face, managing a weak smile for the defender. “Thanks María.” 

She smiled sadly back at you, as if she knew what she’d said hadn’t really helped. “Anything you need, I’m here, sí? We all are.” 

You nodded, thanking her again before you continued on your way to the locker room, hopefully where you’d be able to grab your stuff and get out of her before seeing anyone else. Especially Alexia. You got lost in your thoughts again rather quickly, barely able to focus when Olga answered her phone and told you to wait for her outside. You were too wrapped up in what Mapi had said. 

‘You’re a determined person.’ 

‘You’re strong enough.’

You didn’t feel strong. You didn’t even feel very determined. You felt weak, like it was only a matter of time before you cracked and let everyone down. And everyone would see just how weak you really were.

—

The house was too quiet when Alexia and Olga arrived home from dinner. No music playing, no mindless reality show on the TV. And you were nowhere to be seen. Alexia slid her shoes off, offering a hand out to steady Olga as the other woman removed her heels. 

“Something’s wrong.” Alexia murmured, looking up the stairs as if she could see through the walls into your room. She didn’t know what was wrong or what had happened, but she just knew something wasn’t okay. “I shouldn’t have left her.”

Olga shook her head, though, giving her girlfriend a sad smile. “You can’t always be with her, Ale. This is something she has to do herself sometimes.” 

The blonde frowned. “But what if…” 

“If she did, you tell her it’s okay. You tell her that relapsing is a part of getting better, and that you’re not upset with her.” Alexia nodded slowly, worrying her lip between her teeth. Olga grabbed her hand, squeezing once. “If she did, she probably just wants a hug, amor. She doesn’t want to hear that you feel guilt for leaving her to her own devices. She’s already going to feel like she broke your trust, and that would only make it worse.” 

For a second, Alexia just stared in wonder at her girlfriend. Because, of course, it all made sense when Olga explained it, but Alexia would never have considered things from that perspective. Before Olga even knew what was happening, Alexia was wrapping her in a tight hug, tucking the shorter woman’s head under her chin.

“Thank you. I would have messed this up so many times without you, and I’m so grateful that you’re here and you’re so willing to help.” 

Olga hugged her back with a matching ferocity, feeling a small smile grow on her face. Once, she’d expressed to Alexia that she felt the other woman wasn’t expressive enough. It was hard to know what the very tough captain was thinking, even harder to know what she was feeling. Since then, Alexia had made a concerted effort to speak her feelings aloud. It wouldn’t ever not make Olga smile to hear Alexia expressing her appreciation for her. “You don’t have to thank me.” 

“Maybe I don’t have to, but I want to. I don’t want you to ever doubt how perfect you are.” Alexia replied sweetly, pressing a gentle kiss to Olga’s cheek. 

It wasn’t the perfect date night that either of them had imagined, but it was still them, and that was enough. 

—

You really hadn’t meant to ruin Ale and Olga’s evening. When they’d left, you thought it would be nice to have some time to yourself. And it would have been, if you hadn’t tried to push yourself to eat dessert on top of an entire dinner. You’d managed a few bites before you began to spiral, and it had all gone downhill from there. 

Even still, you were hoping your sister and her girlfriend would slip into the house, say a brief goodnight, and not bother themselves with you. You certainly weren’t going to tell them what happened. Not today. It was your every intention to deal with your shame and embarrassment yourself in your room, which likely entailed crying into your pillow until you fell asleep. 

Alexia ruined your plans, though, with her magical ability to sense when something wasn’t right. It allowed her to sniff out one of Pina’s pranks before it happened, allowed her to turn around and squirt Mapi with water just as the defender was about to do the same to her. It was a gut feeling, and it was even stronger when it involved you. 

It wasn’t really magical. It was a lot of little things she picked up on. The little smirk Pina got before she pulled a prank. Mapi’s quiet giggling as she tried to sneak up on Ale. Now, it was the lack of noise in the house. The abandoned bowl of ice cream on the kitchen table, the light and fan left on in the downstairs bathroom. Your sister had known you all her life, and she knew what she’d find when she opened your bedroom door. Just like when you were little, and you’d sit at the foot of your bed when you’d gotten in trouble. Tears streaming down your little face, you’d turn away from Ale when she’d come after you, but she just had to wrap her arms around you, and you’d break. 

You’d never been able to deny yourself the comfort of an Alexia hug. 

Ale knocked softly before entering, finding you with your chin resting on your knees, wiping roughly at the tears falling down your face. 

“Hey, chiqui.” She said softly. 

“Hi.” You said, clearing your throat when your voice cracked. “How was your night?” 

Alexia ruffled your hair, knowing exactly what you were attempting to do, and took a seat next to you. “It was nice, dinner was good. We had fun.” 

“That’s good.” 

Alexia wrapped her arm around your shoulders. “You can tell me if something happened.” 

“Nothing happened.” You said firmly, though you leaned further into your sister, like she could protect you from something you’d done yourself. Something you’d done to yourself.  

“Pequeña,” 

“Nothing happened, Ale. Nothing.” 

How could you tell her? How could you tell her that you’d failed, that you’d messed up, that you’d deviated from the plan? She was going to be upset, you knew it. She expected perfection. She always had. This would be no different. Alexia wanted you to have a perfect recovery. 

As you continued to pretend nothing was wrong, Alexia felt a flash of frustration run through her. You still weren’t very willing to talk to her. Was she doing something wrong? Was she not not being patient enough or kind enough? What more could she do for you? What would it take for her to be enough? 

She looked at you again, though, at the way your lower lip was wobbling, and the tears in your eyes that you refused to let fall. You were barely hanging on to your strength, and Alexia wasn’t sure why you were so resistant to being vulnerable with her, but she knew she couldn’t stop trying. 

“Let me in. Please, you’re hurting, I can tell. Just talk to me.” She tried. When you stayed silent, she reached out, resting a hand on your shoulder. “I just want to help, nena. Let me help.”

You couldn’t take the pleading tone of your sister’s voice anymore, and the words streamed out of you before you could stop them. 

“I’m sorry. I– It was all just too much, I didn’t have a choice, I had to,” You choked out, eyes fixed firmly on the wall in front of you, even as your voice cracked and you started to cry. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Ale.” 

“Nena, why are you sorry?” Alexia asked, pulling you into her. You sobbed, unrestrained, into her sweater for a few moments, leaning back to take a few gasping breaths as you tried to answer her. 

“I– I messed up,” you cried. “I broke your trust and–”

“No, cariño, don’t think of it like that.” Alexia interrupted, wiping a few tears off your cheek, though more replaced them quickly. 

“But it is like that! The minute you left I made myself–” You cut yourself off with a sharp shake of your head. 

“Tell me. Tell me what happened, and we can talk through it, yeah?” 

“You don’t want to hear.” 

“Yes I do. That’s why I asked. Walk me through what happened and we can make a plan for next time.” 

It was always about plans with your sister, but you weren’t in much of a state to argue with her.

“I– I ate dinner. And it was okay. It was better. I think it got too confident or I wasn’t thinking hard enough but I got myself some ice cream but I only had a few bites before I was thinking about all the calories in it and how I’d have to skip breakfast tomorrow to make up for it, and then I remembered I have breakfast plans with Alba and I would have to eat and so I knew I had to–... I went to–,” 

You couldn’t go on, crying too hard to get another word out. You covered your face with your hand, more than humiliated at your tears and what you were trying to tell your sister. It felt horribly private, and you didn't want to see the disgust and judgment on your sister’s face. You’d never given her this much detail before, and you were sure she didn’t want to hear this. 

If you’d just opened your eyes, though, you would have seen the opposite of what you were expecting. Alexia was near tears herself, simply from seeing the pain that you were in. You were normally so good at hiding it; even when Alexia knew something was wrong, she couldn’t truly see how much it affected you. Now, though, something in you had broken, and you were falling to pieces in front of her. 

She hadn’t seen you cry like this since you’d broken your ankle training with her a few years ago. All she’d been able to think to do while she waited for Eli to come pick you both up was pull you into her lap, though you were too big for it. 

And it was all she could think to do now, allowing you to tuck yourself into her and cry as hard as you needed to. She held you tightly, as if she could stabilize the world as it crumbled around you, her own tears falling freely now. 

“Alright, alright. It’s okay. It’s all okay, hermanita.” 

“It’s not.” You sobbed, bordering on hysterical now. “I le-let you down.” 

“No,” Alexia disagreed.  “No. You didn’t let me down. This is part of it, chiqui. Part of recovery is relapsing, and I will never ever be disappointed in you for that. I know this isn’t easy.”

You simply didn’t believe her. She had to be disappointed, so you had to keep trying to justify it. 

“I-I hate feeling like this.  I just needed to control something. I just needed to be in control.” 

“I get that. It must be really scary to give up control over what’s going in your body. Listening to the meal plans and eating what we tell you has to be so difficult.” 

And though it was what you’d wanted all week, to hear Alexia acknowledge how hard this was, it didn’t feel right. You were convinced she was just saying whatever she needed to to get you to stop crying, that she was disappointed, even if she wasn’t showing it. She shouldn’t have to push down her justified anger because you were a disaster, she should be mad at you. 

“No, Ale, stop.” You said, though you didn’t have the strength to push away from where your face was buried in the fabric of her sweater. “You’re disappointed, you want to yell. Just yell, please. It’ll make you feel better, and you won’t be mad at me anymore, so please. Just yell. I messed up. I deserve it.” 

Alexia was quiet for almost a full minute. It felt like a stab to the chest that you thought she had to yell in order to work through her feelings. That you were so convinced she was angry with you, disappointed in you. That you were willing to sit through a lecture because you felt so guilty for what you’d done. She hated it all; you weren’t to blame. You were doing your best. She could see that, everyone could see that, so why couldn’t you?

It was as if you thought of yourself as a bad person for having an eating disorder. As if every relapse, every action you’d taken in the haze of your illness, made you a bad person. Being sick didn’t make you bad, and your sister ached to make you see that. 

“Tell me something. After you make yourself throw up, what do you feel? What goes through your head?” 

The question felt like it came from nowhere, the confusion you felt putting a stop to your tears. Instead, you breathed deeply for a minute, thinking. Hearing her say it made your stomach drop. You didn’t like to name it in your head. It was just… something you did, and if it remained unnamed, it wouldn’t matter. 

But it did matter, and even though she was supposed to be mad, Alexia was rubbing your back like you mattered, and it was all so confusing that you just found yourself answering. 

“Awful. Ashamed and embarrassed and disgusted. Guilty. I hate myself after I do it. It feels like the world is ending because I have to start over, like all the progress I’ve made was for nothing.”

“Does it make you feel like a bad person?” 

At this, you jolted away from Alexia, staring at her with wide eyes. What was the right answer? What did she want to hear?

“I guess. I… I know I’m doing something wrong, something I shouldn’t be doing. I know I’m hurting my body and I know I’m hurting the team and my career. I’m doing something wrong and that makes me feel like I’m bad.” You admitted. Completely unsure where that confession had come from, you stared at your sister as you waited for her reply, as if you were shocked by your statement. She didn’t seem to be. 

“It is wrong because it is unhealthy. It is wrong because you are hurting yourself. But… doing something ‘wrong’ doesn’t make you bad. You aren’t a bad person for being sick, you aren’t a bad person for relapsing. You’re doing your best, nena. You are trying. And even if you weren’t, that wouldn’t make you bad.” 

You didn’t fully believe her, and Alexia could tell. This wasn’t something she could fix with a few words, though, and she knew that. Tomorrow, she’d make sure you talked to Lucia about this, but for now, she was content knowing that you weren’t crying anymore, and you looked significantly less distressed. 

“You’re really not mad? Or disappointed?” 

Alexia swallowed the lump in her throat at your question. “I’m really not. I’ve done my research, I’ve talked to your doctor, I knew to expect this, nena. It’s okay, it’s part of getting better. It can’t all be perfect, it won’t all be perfect. You don’t need to be perfect. You just need to try, and I’ll be proud of you. I am proud of you.” 

You wondered how Alexia had gone from a disaster that could barely put a sentence together without saying the wrong thing to this; saying exactly what you needed to hear from her and more. Likely, it was a combination of Olga, the research you know she’d stayed up late doing, and sheer determination to help you the best she could. 

“I know this is hard in a lot of ways,” Alexia continued. “But you can talk to me. Always. Without worrying that I’ll be mad or upset. I promise you, pequeña, you can tell me anything. I’m here to help you.” 

“I just hate talking about this.” You admitted. “I don’t like being vulnerable.” 

“I know you don’t. You never have.” Alexia chuckled, thinking about how Eli used to have a jar set on the kitchen counter called the feeling’s jar. If you were upset about something, you were supposed to tell your Mami or your sisters about it, but that almost never happened. Instead, Eli gave you the option to write the feeling down and put it in the jar for someone to read later, when you weren’t in the room. It was the best any of them could do to understand what was going through your head, even as a child. “Would it make it better if I was vulnerable too? If I talk about something hard with you?” 

You laughed, thinking she was joking, but when you glanced at her, she was completely serious, earnestly staring at you. 

“Maybe.” You said suspiciously, highly doubtful that Alexia was about to tell you anything that really mattered to her. If you were stubborn about your feelings, it was because Ale was too. 

Alexia just nodded, almost solemnly, fixing her attention on the ceiling above you both before she began speaking. “This season… this season has been harder. It’s always been hard switching off from football and taking a break when I need to, but it’s like… I have all this stuff outside of football that deserves my attention too. And it’s even harder now.” 

“Other stuff… being Olga?”

Your sister nodded, blushing just slightly. “I need to spend less time doing extra training and watching film and obsessing over strategies.  I just… I can’t. I can’t do it. I have to train every day. I have to do the most that I can.” 

“Or what?”

“Or… I don’t know. I’d feel bad. I’d fail the team. But if I don’t find a better balance…” Alexia paused, taking a deep breath. You could have cried, again, from how much you appreciated her in that moment. Telling you things you knew she struggled to share, so you’d feel less alone. “Olga is always on me about self care, and I’m worried I’ll lose her if I don’t figure out how to take breaks and leave football behind when I come home, at least a little. And I really, really don’t want to lose her.” 

You thought hard, knowing that Alexia deserved the absolute best advice you could give her, even if she wasn’t explicitly asking for it. 

“I don’t think you’re going to lose her, Ale. But I think she deserves better than being second best to your job until you retire. It’s like you said, you need a balance. Sometimes, football is going to come first. That’s just part of the job. But you also have to make sure she comes first too, sometimes. Even if you have to do something that makes you uncomfortable, like miss an extra training session or not watch all the available film you can get your hands on.” 

By the time you stopped talking and looked at your sister, she looked almost stunned, as though she wasn’t expecting you to have anything very helpful to say. 

“When did you get good at giving relationship advice?” She asked. “The last time I asked you for advice like this you told me to spray paint I love you on Jenni’s car as an apology.” 

You laughed. “That was like… 10 years ago, Ale. I’ve grown up.” 

“You really have.” Your sister got a rather pensive look on her face, as if she was just seeing for the first time that you were no longer a little kid. In effort to avoid any further sappiness, you voiced the idea that had popped into your head a few minutes ago. 

“Didn’t Olga say she doesn’t have much work to do tomorrow? You should take her to lunch.” 

“We have training.” Alexia said automatically.

You rolled your eyes. “I know. Skip. It’s a gym session and film that you’ve probably already watched. Skip it and take your girlfriend out. No one will care.” 

It was clear that the idea made Alexia uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable. Her posture had become stiff and her hands were clenched almost as tightly as her jaw was. 

 But she thought about the last time she’d done something spontaneous for Olga, and the way the brunette's face had lit up. It had just been flowers picked up on the way home from training, but it had clearly meant a lot to her. Alexia wanted to see that look on Olga’s face again. Soon. 

“Okay.” She agreed hesitantly. “How do I skip? Is it like school? Should I lie and say I’m sick?” 

You laughed again, but Alexia joined in this time. “No, tonta. Just say you have a personal commitment. It’s not like anyone is going to ask questions.” 

“Mmm. Well, you’re coming with us.” 

You looked at her like she was stupid. “No I’m not. That would ruin the romantic date with your girlfriend.” 

Alexia frowned, trying to think of a way she could make you a part of this too. A way she could make you want to try because she was trying. “Fine, but I’m bringing you back lunch, okay?” 

Suddenly, you looked just as uncomfortable as your sister had, but you agreed nonetheless. You couldn’t not try if Alexia was trying. And you both knew that what you had to do was harder than what she had to do. It wasn’t really about that, though. It was about your sister understanding how difficult this process was, and telling you that you didn’t have to be perfect, just like she wasn’t. 

Recovery wasn’t perfect. Existing wasn’t perfect. It was about trying. It was about knowing there needed to be a change, and doing your best to make one. 

Trying your best didn’t have to be perfect, or without fault. Alexia almost threw herself into a panic attack the next day when she remembered she was missing a captains meeting, but Olga had calmed her down and Irene had promised to send her copious notes. 

The look on Olga’s face had made it all feel worth it when Alexia had asked her of the plan you’d come up with. 

“Do you want to get lunch tomorrow?” Alexia had asked casually, as her and Olga stood side by side at the stove, cooking dinner. 

“After training?” Olga had wondered, confused. 

“No. No training tomorrow, I’m taking the day off.” 

It was very worth it when Olga practically dropped the wooden spoon she was holding and launched herself at Alexia, wrapping the taller woman in a tight hug. It was so, so worth it when Olga whispered a soft I’m proud of you in Alexia’s ear. 

It wasn’t easy when you tried to eat lunch the next day. It wasn’t easy when you were done, and when you cried into your sister’s shoulder, when all you wanted to do was get rid of it. 

But it was worth it later, when Alexia told you how proud she was of you, and you knew she meant it. You believed her. The next day, when Lucia told you she thought you were making good progress. Every step forward wasn’t without some faltering, but you moved forward anyway.

You moved through recovery. Forwards and backwards. Mostly forwards. Returning to training, to matches, to doing what you loved. To feeling like yourself again. 

It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t perfect, but change was worth it. Getting better was worth it. 

—

didn't plan on finishing this and getting it out tonight but it was flowing really well and i... think... i'm... happy... with.... it??? anyway! thanks for reading <3

[taeyongdoyoung]

enjoy the silence

summary: your usually quiet self becomes unusually loud around your boyfriend so you want him to make you shut up 👀 pairing: chan x reader genre: smut with hints of angst warnings: silence kink, insecurities, swearing, healthy communication 🥰 belt, fingering, eating out, overstimulation, piv sex, safeword used, pre-discussed scenario, dirty talk, pet names, kissing, overthinking, they're just idiots in love, your honour 😔 word count: 1.5k

You are generally perceived as the "quiet one" among your friends. Always the listener, never the talker. Honestly, you are more than okay with it. Most of the time, you can't think of a funny or interesting thing to say so you keep to yourself. And you genuinely enjoy hearing about your loved ones' days, even if you are not the best at responding with something witty. Some of them say one of the things that they like about you is that you don't give unnecessary advice but offer your support which is more than enough in certain situations.

All of that changes when you meet Chan. He makes you feel so comfortable that you open up without realizing. Sometimes you would babble for hours and he would let you. In most contexts, you would overthink your answer and end up not saying anything. But when you are with him, you don't have to think. You just freely say whatever is on your mind and are met with acceptance. It is like he unlocked a new part of you that you didn't even know existed.

One evening, you are out having dinner with Chan, and you are excitedly telling him about what you did today, what you ate, where you went, what outfit you wore and all the silly details you normally keep inside. He smiles at you adoringly, adding "Really?" and "That sounds nice" every now and then.

You are genuinely having a lovely time when you overhear a remark coming from the table nearby.

"Ugh, does that woman ever shut up? That poor guy..."

"I know, right? Must be so annoying..."

You immediately stop talking and gulp nervously. They must be talking about you. Were you really that loud?

"Let's go home," you say in a quiet voice.

Chan doesn't question it, he just gets the bill and you two make your way out of the restaurant. He drives you home in complete silence and when you are inside the apartment, he finally breaks the quiet spell.

"What's wrong, sweetheart? You didn't even finish your meal..."

"N-nothing, I'm f-fine," you try to lie but your voice breaks.

"Tell me, please," Chan urges you to trust him with your concerns.

"Channie, do I talk too much?" you ask.

"Oh, so you heard those assholes, as well..."

"So...do I?"

"I seriously love hearing you talk, okay? I've seen how quiet you get around your friends and I am glad you feel safe enough to share all these stuff with me. And to be fair, it's kind of a relief, after a long day of me doing a lot of talking, I get to listen to you. These people at the restaurant were just jealous that no one wants to hear their nasty voices."

That makes you laugh and you bury your head in his chest, enveloping him in a hug.

"Don't you ever get tired? Don't you wish to shut me up?" you want to know.

"Where is this coming from? Forget about these fuckers..."

"Not in general. Don't you want to make me stop talking in bed?" you suggest boldly.

"Oh. It hasn't crossed my mind. Is that something you'd like to explore?"

"As long as it's with you, yes."

"With nobody else?" Chan runs a finger across your cheek.

"Nope, never," you admit.

"Well, I'll see what I can do about that."

Chan looks really tired from work and you probably shouldn't push his buttons right now of all times. But you really want to see him snap. Empowered by your previous discussions of this particular scenario, you decide to give it a shot. If he's not in the mood, you'll just drop it and let him rest. But if he's in...may the universe have mercy on you.

"So I told her, no, I don't want to get drinks for everyone, Susan, 'cause you never pay me back and you always treat me like a minion and then she said-"

Chan sighs deeply because you've told this story like three times already but doesn't interrupt you. Okay, he really appears exhausted, maybe this was a terrible idea.

"Tell me to shut up," you beg him at this point.

"Huh?" he blinks somewhat confused.

"I'm obviously being super loud and you're tired. So, make me shut up and take it out on me. Please?"

Realizing where you're going with this, Chan nods and the exhaustion suddenly disappears from his eyes. His gaze is now on fire as he squishes your cheeks with one hand and pushes you against the wall.

"As long you're begging," he smirks cruelly and kisses you.

Oh dear. He's never kissed you like this, so roughly and fervently, teeth clashing against yours, biting your lips until it hurts. You cannot speak even if you wanted to, which you don't. Completely losing yourself to the feeling, you let him do as he pleases.

Chan grabs your wrist and pulls you towards the bedroom. He pins you under him on the bed and starts talking.

"Always so fuckin' loud, huh?"

You shake your head in disagreement. You can be quiet if he wants you to. You'd do anything if it makes him happy.

"Got nothing to say all of a sudden?" Chan teases you and starts taking off your clothes.

You lick your own lips hesitantly but don't dare say a word. Seeing him like this is so unexpected but you can't get enough of it.

"What got you so shy, hm? I thought you loved yapping to me. All. Day. Long."

The way he enunciates each word would make anyone else think he was genuinely annoyed by it. But you know your Channie. You know that he wouldn't hurt you. Not unless you asked him to.

"Talk to me, baby, yeah? Why aren't you saying anything?" he asks while he's unbuckling his belt.

You refuse to speak and he takes it as a sign to continue. He smacks the bed with his belt and the action is so startling you unvoluntarily flinch as if you were the one hit.

"Are you going to speak or do you want me to force the words out of you?"

Oh, so he's going to use your own weapon against you? Very well, then. Two can play at that game. Let's see who folds first.

Chan takes the task very seriously and does everything he can think of to make you talk again.

"Come on, sweetheart, doesn't this feel good?" he keeps asking as his big fingers stretch you out deliciously. Yes, it feels amazing, but you are so stubborn you say nothing.

"Not even a moan? You're crazy," he laughs but doesn't give up.

He eats you out longer than you've ever thought humanly possible, making you cum over and over again. But you still hold on, fingers gripping the sheets and teeth biting the inside of your cheek.

"Was this okay?" Chan needs to know and you swear you see his eyes watering with emotion, begging to be praised for his otherworldly skills, but not even that can make you speak.

You give him a noncomittal nod, which obviously makes him even more competitive.

Finally, he thrusts into you so deeply, so overwhelmingly that it takes every ounce of willpower for you to not break. His hard cock inside you, his strong arms wrapped around you, his smooth voice talking to you, his beautiful eyes gazing at yours. It's too much, yet never enough. You want to tell him so many things. How much he means to you, how grateful you are for him, how happy he makes you, how-

"Be honest, do you hate me?" Chan interrupts your affectionate thoughts out of nowhere.

Huh? Where the fuck is this coming from?

"P-pineapple," you break your silence by saying the pre-established safeword because there is no way you could continue enjoying yourself and each other without unpacking this.

Oh, no. Chan just wanted to hear you speak again, but not like this.

"What's wrong? Did I hurt you?" he immediately asks in concern and stops his movements.

"Did you hurt me?" you answer sarcastically. "Did I hurt you? Why would you ask me if I hate you while literally inside of me, are you serious right now?"

"I was just wondering," he pouts adorably, "you weren't talking to me for so long, I thought you were mad at me or something."

"I wasn't speaking because that was part of the scenario we talked about! Of course, I love you, you big idiot! How could you possibly ask that?"

Chan smiles fondly and gives you a soft kiss.

"I love you, too," he giggles. "So, you're not hurt? We can keep going?"

"No, I'm fine. Yes, we can, I just said the safeword because I can't have you thinking I hate you under no circumstances. You're everything to me, okay?"

"Okay," Chan agrees easily. "But can I ask for something?"

"Sure, what's up?"

"Please never shut up for real, baby. No matter how tired I may look, I love hearing about your day."

"I know. The same goes for you, yeah? You don't have to keep everything in, alright? I'll always listen to you. Whenever and whatever you want to say, I'm here for you."

"Oh, really? You'll be my good girl and listen? You'd do what I like?" Chan raises an eyebrow and you long to see what kind of demon you've unleashed.

"For you? I'd do anything," you promise.

"Then no more silence. I wanna hear you scream for me."

The End

[emmyrosee]

You’ve been… needy, today.

Normally, Kiyoomi is immune to it, if anything, he embraces your clingiest of affections and he takes them with ease, but today, for some reason, you’re nuzzling and nudging at him with every little thing, your eyes curved into a sad pout every time he looks down at you.

It seems like you’re insatiable, you’re on a craving for a fix you can’t seem to get, and he’s fairly certain you’ve almost cried at him a few times for that little bit of affection you can’t seem to get enough of, and normally Kiyoomi can read you like a novel, front to back.

Today, it’s almost like you’re a different person- no longer able to voice their needs, but plead for him to figure it out. Someone who doesn't seem to trust him, but still eggs for assurance and validation.

And he doesn't know why, but he can't pinpoint it this time.

He's exhausted every avenue, he's does everything he can think of, every question he could ask has either given him no answer or another needy little choke in your answer. He doesn't know, okay, he's trying, but he doesn't want to just ask you point blank because there's a part of him that feels like he should know.

There's also a glimmer in your eyes that tells him that he should figure it out.

Finally, for whatever reason, you stop.

Now, you're creating distance, and he hates this even more than you trying to crawl into his skin.

At least then, you still wanted him.

"I'm going to shower."

Your voice cuts him out of his detecting, snapping him from his thoughts as he nods encouraging at you. If he didn't feel like it would end in a fight, he'd cheesily ask if you wanted him to join you, but the question dies when you spin on your heel to leave him in the bedroom, alone.

He needs to know. He has to figure it out.

There's a buzzing of his phone that snaps him out of his pity party, and enthusiastic text from Hinata about the new jersey designs. Something about how they need sizing and promo pictures, and they should all get together to plan.

At this point, Hinata couldv'e texted him about anything on the planet and he would've gone. In his head, he weighs his options of staying here and leaving the jersey talk for tomorrow.

Or leaving, and letting you both have some time apart to sort out your feelings.

He's barely able to think on it before his feet force him to get up and make his way to the bathroom, popping open the door to call to you.

He just hopes this works.

"Baby, I'll be back!" He calls, voice above the rushing water.

"Wait- what?" You call back.

"Hinata needs to steal me for a while to talk about our new jerseys, I should be back in a few hours."

"Kiyoomi-"

"I love you!" He says, interrupting you before closing the door and making his way out of the house. He hopes that some distance may calm whatever it is inside of you,

By the time he comes home, he's surprised to see the lights turned on.

Typically Kiyoomi can come home at any hour and find you in bed, asleep, clinging to his pillow, but tonight, it seems you either forgot to shut everything down, or you're still awake.

Maybe if you're awake, you'll be able to sort out whatever happened today before going to bed.

When he walks in, the house is quiet. Scarily quiet.

"Nice of you to show up."

Yeah. You're up. And you sound bored.

The house is still active, but rather than make a dash for him to leap into his arms for affection, you're instead on the couch, eyes heavy and face sad.

After a whole day of trying to cling to him and his every move, now you're willing to be sedate?

He sighs and walks to meet you in the living room, and whatever angry look you try to pull gets demolished by the wobbling of your lip. “What’re you still doing awake?”

You turn to look up at him sadly, tears swollen in your waterline as you blink at him expectantly. “I missed you.”

He smiles at your words before shrugging off his jacket and folding it over in his arms, “I missed you too, baby. How was your night?”

“Quiet.” Your lips twitch as if you want to say more, but no other words fall from your lips. He gives you a small chuckle and scratched the back of his head.

“That’s… exciting,” he offers. You shrug. The tenseness in the room makes him want to throw up, he’s not used to this coldness from you- typically, you’re throwing yourself at him, especially with how you were acting earlier, but now you seem like you couldn’t care less about him. "Did you do anything?"

"Nope."

"Oh..."

"Where did you go?"

He shrugs, "Hinata and Bokuto wanted to talk about the new jerseys and the plan for practice tomorrow; then we got dinner and had some drinks."

"And you didn't think to text me? Not once?"

Chills run up his spine as your question comes with an emotioned voice crack, "I... I guess it slipped my mind... I'm sorry."

"Mm."

He swallows thickly, but his pounding head desperately wants to call it a night. “Why don’t we go to bed, baby?”

“You go ahead, im gonna get some water.”

He smiles and nods as he makes haste to the bedroom, happy facade dropping once his back is towards you. All he wants right now is to curl up next to you and knock the rest if the day away, praying that you're in a similar headspace.

He all but tears off the clothes on his back, dressing into far more comfortable wear as he goes to wash his face. Usually, you're right next to him, butting your head against him, nudging him to the side so you can join him, or youre sitting on the closed toilet seat just to watch him.

You seemingly have no interest in doing that tonight.

By the time Kiyoomi's done, his stomach churns as you're still not in bed, surely it hasn't taken you more than two minutes to get some water, and with an exhausted, and almost annoyed groan, he shuffles back down the hall to see you.

You... you haven't moved.

“Hey,” he mumbles, rubbing his eye. “How come you’re out here? I thought we were going to bed?”

“You didn’t kiss me today.”

He didn’t?

“What do you mean?” He asks, stalking over to the couch. You shuffle over to make room for him, but your eyes never meet his. “I kissed you so many times today, baby.”

“No,” you snip. “You didn’t. I know, because I’m so used to you giving me kisses.”

“I’m... I'm sorry, I guess I just-“

“And you barely hugged me, either,” you sniffle. His brows furrow and instinctively, he tosses an arm around your shoulder to try and calm you down. “Any time I’d reach for you, you’d look at me like I was some nuisance, and make me feel bad for needing the affection.”

“Of course you’re not a nuisance!” He says, rocking you both. “God, fuck baby, I’m sorry, I thought you just needed some more attention than usual and I just-“

“I’m not done.”

A wave of nervousness shudders down his spine, but he pulls back slightly to give you your room to piece together your thoughts. Had he really been that neglectful today?

“You didn’t even eat dinner with me; you went out with the boys. I was in the shower, I didn’t even get a kiss goodbye- you called out a quick ‘love you!’ and went off doing whatever it was you did tonight. You didn’t call, and you didn’t text, and I was home alone, thinking that I did something wrong.”

"No wonder you’re upset- I’m sorry, baby. Whatever I did today wasn’t a reflection of how much I love you; I just got a little busy, and I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’ll do better tomorrow.”

You completely deflate. God, what has he done?

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” he says sweetly, planting a kiss to your temple. “I never, ever wanted to hurt your feelings, and I’m sorry I did.”

You’re quiet. There’s a strange feeling of dread in the air. The longer you pause, the more he feels the anxiety settling in the pit of his soul.

"You really don't know why I'm mad...?"

He chokes on his own breath, "I... I didn't know you were mad..."

You hiccup in sadness, and he feels like he can't breathe.

The clock on the tv changes to 23:59, and you sigh sadly.

“Happy anniversary.”

You stand up without a word, letting Kiyoomi’s head fall forward along with his jaw. He looks at you in absolute terror, all while you face away from him, hugging yourself in an attempt to comfort yourself.

Oh, God.

Oh, God.

The room is shrouded in suffocating silence, smothering anything Kiyoomi could say before he could even think of the words. Dark eyes dart over your frame. He feels sick, he could throw up on this rug right now, if he had anything to even puke up. Your shoulders heave, and he’d rather chew on broken glass covered alcohol before ever wanting him and his neglect to be the reason for your distress.

“I forgot,” he blurts.

No shit.

“I know you did.”

“How… could I forget?”

“You tell me.”

“I-I-I-I set so many reminders, how did I…”

“It doesn’t matter,” you snip, turning on your heel to stalk back down the hallway to your bedroom. “You forgot. And the day is over. It doesn’t matter.”

It does, he wants to argue. It matters, because you matter to him, and he abandoned you on a night that is so sacred to him, the day you crashed into his life and made him realize that whatever he was doing that put you on the road to him, was exactly where he wants to be.

He looks down at the clock on his iPhone, as it creeps over the 45 second mark, and he darts down the hallway. He runs like he’s being chased, like he’s on fire, and you can’t hide your noise of surprise when he bursts into your bedroom and tosses gangly arms around you and plants kisses all over your face.

He holds you so tight you could pop, and he sponges all the kisses he can over your neck and cheeks, and he hears you trying to fight back a giggle, and it only eggs him on to continue.

“I love you,” he pants. “I love you, I love you so much, every day I’m grateful for whatever being is watching us for putting me on the road to you. I don’t know who I worshipped right to be here, but I’ll be damned if I let my own stupidity sabotage that.”

“Kiyoomi,” you say, voice delicate and trying to stop itself from breaking. “You forgot. I just wanted... I wanted you to show up. You couldn't even give me that."

Now it's his turn for his lip to wobble.

You sniff sharply, "just forget about everything, I don’t care anymore.”

“But I care-“

“Clearly, you don’t,” you snap, trying to squeeze out of his grip. “I don’t have the energy for this right now. Let’s just go to bed.

“I’m not about to let this go.”

“Neither am I, but my demons need to rest.” Your eyes dart at his alarm clock, “yours too, apparently. Tomorrow you’re getting sized for jerseys- hopefully you didn’t forget that other important thing.”

Your words sting him sharply, even if he deserves every single one of them. He reels back slightly, gnawing at his lip as he tries to think of ways to fix this, fix the way you’re looking at him and feeling, fix the clear hole he’s singed into your heart.

You curl up into your side of the bed, pulling the blankets high, and he doesn’t know how long he does it, but he just stares at you. It’s like he’s waiting for you to scream at him, or cry, or do something that he should feel even more shitty for.

But it doesn’t happen.

You sniffle a few times, shuffle once or twice, and he doesn’t know just how long he’s been standing there until your breathing turns rhythmic and peaceful for the first time today. Your shoulders rise and fall, back facing away from him and god, he feels like such a loser about to lose the greatest thing that's ever happened to him.

Probably because he is.

You're going to leave him. You're going to see just how much he takes you for granted, how much more you're worthy of and how much more love anyone can give you- even if you still wanted to stay in the jackals, and he wouldn't blame you for shifting your love to someone like Hinata or Meian for a second.

A cold breeze smacks Kiyoomi in the face as, at some point in his spiraling, he ends up outside, keys jingling in hands and hoodie pulled messily on top of his head. His legs seem to know where he's going, even if he doesnt.

His legs take him everywhere that could possibly be open right now, there's no store with a three mile radius that he hasn't bought out between candy, chocolates, a few stuffed bears you'll adore, and three or four types of pizzas and sushi dishes each.

He doesn't care about the strange looks the cashiers and other patrons give him. He cares about trying to remember if you prefer sour or normal gummy bears. He cares about remembering if you like plain pizza or toppings.

He also cares about the way this pillow won't sit the hell up.

He cares immensely about the way the chairs from the island in the kitchen have no grip to them, and refuse to keep the blankets strewn across them up.

And fuck the knitted blanket draped over the lamp and top of the couch, because it refuses to stay the hell up and he's had to make at least four mad dashes to catch the falling object.

The fifth, naturally, crashes to the floor, and he can only sigh in defeat as he continues to fix the fort for the nth time.

"I'm armed," your voice yells from down the hall.

He chuckles, "no you're not."

You groan in annoyance before padding down the hall, and he turns his head to acknowledge your exhausted arrival.

“What’re you doing, Kiyoomi?” You ask, knuckling your eye. “It’s one in the morning.”

“It’s 12:23 pm on the east coast in America.”

You cock a brow, and he blinks simply before turning back to his blanket fort. He feels your eyes boring into his skull, but he ignores it. He’s busy.

“Uhm… thank you for the fun fact?”

“It’s 1:23 yesterday.”

“…and?”

“Komori is on the east coast,” he says easily, tongue poking out in focus. “Somewhere, I don’t really know where, I don’t know American geography. Which basically means a part of me is on the United States east coast. So, by the transitive property-“ he stands up and presents the messily made fort. “We still get to celebrate our anniversary.”

You smile sadly at his efforts but your bottom lip wobbles all the same, “kiyoomi, you forgot. Just drop it, okay?”

“No.”

“Kiyoomi, I’m tired-“

“I bought us some pizza,” he interrupts, lifting the reusable bags positively stuffed to the brim with other treats. “And i got those sour candies you like for some reason, but I picked aside all the ones you hate so you can just eat them in confidence-“

Your eyes glimmer in slight excitement.

“And-And-And I’ve got our favorite movies queued up, ready to go, but there’s a new playlist filled with love songs that I found-“

“Kiyoomi-“

“And god we haven’t danced around in months, do you remember the last time we danced? It was like… well, months.”

You giggle, and he brightens at the sound. He takes a soft sigh to calm down, “and I just… I know how bad I am at showing it.” He stands up and makes his way towards you, and when he cups your cheek in his hand and you mewl at him, he could cry from that alone. “But you are the only thing that matters. My only exception to any rule I could make. And I couldn’t give you the bare minimum, on the second most important day to do it.”

“Second?”

“If I forget your birthday, I need you to leave me,” he chuckles nervously. You slowly walk up to him as if timid and unsure, and when he opens an arm to ease you into a hug, he lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding as he squeezes you close. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

“I know,” you assure. There’s a comforting silence between you both, your cheek nuzzled into the dip of his sternum before you hum.

“Can I go with you to size jerseys tomorrow?”

“I’m not going to get my jersey sized tomorrow,” he says without missing a beat. You tense up in his arms, and before you can protest, he shushes you and cups the back of your head to keep you close. “They will live for one day without me. It takes four minutes tops. They will get over it.”

“But-“

“No buts,” he says, pulling back and looking down at you.

“But-“

“No.” He leans down to capture your lips in a kiss to shut you up, soft and familiar but just enough to keep you calm for him. You purr into the kiss and let your hands wander around his torso, fingers fisting the fabric of his night shirt tightly.

The fingers on your head gently fists the hair at the nape of your neck to keep you grounded for him, and the whimper you pant against him has him in euphoria.

“Thank you,” you sigh against his teeth. He shakes his head before pulling back slightly.

“Don’t thank me… not when I made you feel anything less than the love of my life.”

You chuckle and gently tug the waistband of his sweats. “I know you’re trying to make up for it, now.”

“You do?”

“How many men are gonna stay up, figure out the time zones in America and pick sour grape from my bag of candy just to try and fix a forgotten anniversary?”

He laughs and pulls you in for another hug, one tight and secure and as close as he can get you to snap any broken pieces together.

“I really am trying… I promise.”

“I know you are.”

[msgexymunson]

Rumour

Description: you share with Eddie, your older neighbour, the rumours you've heard about him. They might not be all fictitious...

Warnings: smutty smutty smut smut, lotta angst, tiny fluff. NSFW, Minors DNI I will whack you with a dinner plate, Eddie is mid 30s, tattoo artist, dom, reader uses sher/her pronouns, sub, fem! Oral receiving, praise kink, potential for Sir kink, a tiny bit of penis handling, p in v unprotected sex (wrap it folks) genital and tongue piercings.

A/N: well, this thought gripped to the inside of my thighs and refused to let go. I had to share it with you before I started humping my furniture. Have fun. Again I'm English so I try with the Americanisms, anything I got wrong soz babe. BTW ST 4pt2 never happened soz babycakes ❤ Reblogs are what keep me alive FR. They keep Tumblr alive (and my own heart beating)! If you want more smut reblog my stuff. I'll love you forever, promise.❤

Masterlist Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

5.2k words

Walking back to your ground floor apartment after your shift, your feet aching, you spot your neighbour sitting on a lawn chair in the courtyard smoking a cigarette. Your incredibly hot, older neighbour. Mr Munson.

The neighbour that sends shivers up your spine at the mere mention of him. The neighbour that you think about at night when you're in bed, all alone.

No doubt about it, he looked both hot and intimidating. Not that you would care to admit but that was entirely your type. Mid thirties, broad shouldered, and appeared to be as confident as a wolf, and about as self assured. He reminded you of one; gruff looking, proud, stalking around, making you feel like prey.

He looked particularly jaw dropping tonight in a black button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up; part of his muscular arms were on display, covered in countless tattoos. You've heard that he works in one of the tattoo shops down town. In fact you've heard a lot about him, but that was one rumour that you actually believed.

Elbows resting on his knees, his messy hair fell in waves just brushing his shoulders, full lips taking a drag on a rolled cigarette. Peeking out of his shirt collar, between the waves of hair, you can see a skull like tattoo on the side of his neck.

Is that new? Oh God, he's so hot. Okay just walk past, act normal.

You saunter past him with as much confidence as you could muster.

"Hey Mr Munson." You nod in his direction, trying to stop your voice quaking, fumbling for your keys.

"Hey sweet thing. You good?"

Jesus, does he really need to call me that?

The nickname travels to the pit of your stomach making you squirm hotly.

"Yeah sir, just a long shift at the bar. Idiots tonight, you know?"

Mr Munson shifts in his chair taking a sudden breath in.

"Shit sweetheart, sorry to hear that. Wanna talk about it?"

Well, it couldn't hurt, right?

You flop down in the chair bedside him, gesturing for a drag on his cigarette.

"Can I?"

He smiles wickedly and puts his roll up to your mouth. The roughness of his fingertips brushes on your lips making you clench, almost rucking your hips up, albeit briefly. You hope he doesn't notice. Of course he does.

Taking half a hit you realise that it's not a fucking cigarette, it's a blunt. It's not like you'd never tried anything like that but it was  certainly not what you were expecting. The heavy, sweet, herb feeling lays on your tongue. Eyes wide you breathe out, coughing slightly much to his amusement.

He holds it out at you so you can take a proper hit. Sucking at the blunt so you can take it all in, your lips brush against his calloused hands, adorned with rings.

Breathing out, you gaze at him. His smile splits his face wide open, thick tongue rolling to a point, licking across his upper lip in a teasing manner. You cannot help but focus on the tongue stud pierced right through the middle of the muscle, a long stainless steel bar penetrating his whole tongue. You had certainly never noticed it before. It's presence made you wet, sticking between your thighs at the sheer thought of what he could do with it.

"Something on your mind pretty girl?" A cocky side grin plastered across his handsome features.

Shit, I was totally staring.

Blushing, you look away and try to change the subject.

"You know, you should really warn a girl before she takes a hit of a blunt."

He laughs deep in his throat. "I thought you knew! So, why was today so terrible?"

"Just customers thinking that I'm nice to them because I want them, not because it's literally my fuckin' job. Couple dudes tried to hit on me, one of them grabbed my ass." You sigh into the night air.

"Shit, I hope you taught him a lesson."

"Of course, hit him on the head with my tray."

He laughs out loud at that, throwing his head back. You gawp at his neck, sexy stubble running down past his Adam's apple. Turning his head towards you, he flashes his teeth.

"Didn't know you had it in you. Good girl."

Holy shit.

Your whole lower body clenches at his words of praise as you take in a shaky breath. The apples of your cheeks are on fire. Mr Munson gives you a knowing look, eyes glittering darkly.

You stand up on slightly unsure legs.

"Okay I'm- I'm gonna have a shower. See you around Mr Munson."

You fumble for your keys. Turning to your door you hear a gravelly voice behind you.

"Eddie. Call me Eddie."

********************

A few nights later and your surrounded by the rough brick interior of the bar, busy wiping down sticky tables. There's only half an hour until closing; half an hour and you can go home and rest. It's pretty empty tonight, just three regulars dotted around in the semi dark, nursing their drinks.

You haven't been able to get your latest encounter with Mr Munson, sorry, Eddie, off your mind. You liked to think you were a strong independent woman. You were 22 after all; having had to live on your own since you were 18, life hadn't exactly been kind. You had to be strong to survive. So why exactly was it that a few moments with Eddie had turned you into a blushing, giggling school girl? He had disarmed you with a few words and a rough grin and now you couldn't stop thinking of him. All he had done was call you a good girl and you turned into one. A simpering mess.

Doing a final sweep for glasses, you make your way back behind the bar just as the door opens and a brisk breeze blows in.

Oh fuck its him.

You see his broad frame silhouetted in the doorway for a moment, leather jacket hanging open. His wild mane is in a low messy bun for once, tendrils of loose hair moving in the wind. He stalks over to you and you feel your breath hitch in your throat. Dark eyes finding yours, he leans against the bar on one elbow, towering over you.

Plastering your customer service mask across your face; social armour to hide the nerves, you smile at him.

"Well good evening sir, what can I get ya?"

He grins at you devilishly, biting his lip, like he wants to devour you whole.

"What did I tell you? Call me Eddie."

"Sorry Eddie."

"Good girl. I'll have a bourbon, please."

Only just realising your mouth is hanging open, you slam it shut, cheeks burning. He looks at you smugly, like he's just proven a theory. Your body goes on autopilot, grabbing a glass, adding ice, measuring bourbon.

When you hand his drink over he slides over a twenty dollar bill.

"Keep the change."

You blink at him. "I couldn't, it's too much-"

"Then have a drink on me. I just finished a piece and got paid today. I'm celebrating."

You wouldn't usually, but you're on your own and it's nearly closing. Fuck it.

You pour yourself a bourbon, adding a dash of soda water to yours and take a sip. Eddie beams at you.

"Well thank you." You smile back at him, losing yourself in those dark brown eyes of his, watching the way the skin crinkles at the corners when he grins.

He sticks the ball of his tongue piercing out, rolling it between his lips as he stares at you. It seems like a subconscious movement, you're not sure he's aware that he's doing it.

"Why do you have that?" You blurt out, word vomit pouring off your tongue.

"Have what, pretty girl?" You're staring at his mouth, and he understands, sticking his tongue out at you.

"Thith?" He lisps at you, still poking his tongue out. Giggling, you nod.

His hand drops to the bar, thumb reaching out, stroking back and forth over the knuckles on the back of your hand. An involuntary shiver creeps down your spine at the touch of his rough skin.

"Oh, sweet thing. I think you know exactly what it's for."

His eyes are deep pools, inviting you in. Your thighs clench at his words, biting your lip.

"Oh."

He smirks at you, humming. You pull your hand away, looking at the time.

"Er, just a sec."

You move away slightly and shout out last call. Two of the patrons leave; the other walks over to the bar, slight stagger to his step. Serving him a final Scotch, he pounds it back and walks outside.

It's just you and Eddie. All alone.

"I've got to, um, finish closing up."

"I'll give you a ride if you'll have another drink with me."

You open your mouth. Then close it.

He pouts at you, looking at you with big doe eyes. "Please?"

Well fuck.

"Okay, just let me finish up."

You collect the rest of the glasses, wipe down the last of the sides and sort the nights takings, getting it all in the small safe in the back room.

After locking the front door you return, hang your bar apron up and pour the drinks. Eddie gestures for you to join him on the bar stool next to his. You perch on it lightly; he reaches for his wallet but you wave it away.

"No, I've already done the takings, this ones on me. For the ride, you know."

He shrugs, returning the wallet to his back pocket.

"So" you say, taking a sip of your drink, "you said you finished a piece. You're a tattoo artist, right?"

"Yep, that's right."

"Thought so, I heard a rumour."

"Rumour, eh? What else you heard?" Eyes glittering, he took a mouthful of bourbon.

You giggle "Hmm, well, I heard you were some Satanic cult leader in high school-"

He waved that off, "oh that's so old. If playing D&D is satanic then I'm the devil himself." He sticks his tongue out again, creating little horns with his fingers on his forehead.

You laugh at that, starting to finally feel at ease in his company. The bourbon helped.

"Someone said you sacrificed a goat in the woods once."

He nearly spits his drink at that one. "Now that's more like it, even I've not heard that one. Got any more?"

You blush, realising you've only heard one more.

"I heard you had... other piercings." You mumble, not wanting to say it too loud despite the lack of company.

"What other piercings?" He eyes never leave yours as he finishes his drink.

You're sure it's not normal to have so much blood in your cheeks. You can hear the blood swooshing in your ears. Finishing your own drink for courage, you gaze down at your hands in your lap.

"I heard you have a pierced..."

"Dick?" He ducks his head, trying to catch your eye again, cheeky smile on his face.

"Yeah." Your whole body feels hot and small under his gaze.

He just smirks at you and shrugs.

Is that a no? A yes? Now I'm dying to know!

He winks at your obvious frustration and says "come on I'll take you home."

********************

The ride home in Eddie's Mustang is uneventful. A little small talk is shared, but mostly you're staring out the window, trying to catch glimpses of him when he wasn't looking, eyes wandering to his crotch.

Pretty soon he was dropping you off at your front door, hand leaning on the door frame, crowding into your personal space. Just breathing the same air as him felt suffocating in the best way.

"Well, goodnight then sweet thing." He winks at you, glancing at your lips. For a split second you think he's going to kiss you, but he breaks away and turns to leave.

"Do you wanna come in?" Shit did I just say that out loud?

"You sure?"

You nod and he throws you a wolfish grin. You've never felt so much like a lamb in your entire life. You may as well baa at this point.

You lead him into your tiny apartment, gesturing for him to take a seat on the couch, turning on a couple of dim lamps as you go. He flops down, manspreading, large hand resting on his knee.

"You want another drink? I've got bourbon but no ice I'm afraid."

"Sure thing sweets." He responds whilst slipping his jacket off, placing it on a nearby chair.

"You mind if I smoke? Just a cigarette, promise."

You smile at the reference, "sure, there's an ashtray just there."

He pulls out a pre rolled smoke, lighting it and taking a few drags.

When you've poured the drinks you make your way to the other side of the couch, placing the glasses on the coffee table. He offers his cigarette to you. As you nod, he shifts closer, holding it to your lips. You take a couple of drags, relishing the feel of his fingers on your mouth. Every time your skin touches his it sends a flutter through your nerves.

You watch him take a sip of his drink, seeing him press that perfect bottom lip to the glass. He drinks and puts the glass down. Not even looking your way, he says "something you wanna share, pretty girl?"

"Do you? Is it?" You say doltishly. Well done, real eloquent.

"You really wanna know, huh?"

"Yes!" You say loudly, bourbon well and truly in the drivers seat for that one.

He laughs and looks at you dead in the eye, another chance to make you squirm.

"Yes."

Gaping at him for a few seconds, your brain and mouth finally connect.

"Do you- did it hurt? What's it look like? What kinda-"

Stopping you mid babble with a wave of his hand, he simply asks, "you wanna see it?"

Brain short circuiting, you merely stare at him dumbfounded. You nod, curiosity well and truly getting the best of you.

He stands up and undoes his belt, sound echoing through the apartment. Your gaze is fixated on his large hands as they deftly unbutton his jeans. A glimpse of a tattoo teases you on his lower abdomen. His happy trail is peeking out, leading to the large thatch of hair that snakes down to his manhood. You swallow hard.

He slowly pulls his boxers down and you scoot closer to have a look. It emerges from the fabric, to your surprise half hard.

You gape at it. You've seen dicks before. A handful. And they are just that, a handful. This is more than a handful. You think you'd struggle to get your hand around his. The girth of it was truly intimidating. It certainly looked long too, and that was at half mast.

The end of it was pink and rounded, and the piercing went through the slit at the top, down to the underside of the tip. The piercing was thicker than you imagined, a curved bar with thick steel balls on either end. You never thought you would be into this sort of thing, but just looking at it made you think about what it felt like. What it tasted like. You wet your lips and continue to stare.

On instinct, your hand reaches out. You only notice when it meets the roughness of his jeans, touching ever so closely to his exposed member.

You look up at Eddie's face. He's looking right back at you sinfully.

"Did it hurt?"

"Not as much as you'd think. Ached like a bitch the first time I got a boner though."

You giggle, staring at it again.

"Can I touch it?" What the hell. It just slipped out, unbidden. You see his dick twitch at the thought.

Eddie chuckles darkly. "Did you seriously just ask if you-"

"Sorry that was dumb of me-"

"Sure you can sweet thing."

Before your mind can even comprehend what's happening, your hand shoots forward with sudden bravery, reaching out to hold it. You inspect the tip, looking at the piercing, feeling his hardness grow under your delicate touch. Inquisitively you rub the jewellery with your thumb, inadvertently smoothing the pad of your thumb over his tip in the process. Eddie hisses through his teeth.

"I'm sorry, did that hurt?"

"No," Eddie manages through gritted teeth, "just felt really fuckin' good."

Oh.

You back off, moving your hands from his piercing and placing them in your lap. He tucks himself away again, doing up his jeans, subconsciously palming his length.

"Well? What do you think?" He sits on the couch next to you, denim clad knee touching yours.

"It's really big Eddie."

He laughs, throwing his arm over the back of the sofa.

"You talkin' about the piercing or my dick?"

"Both." You couldn't help it. It had to be said. It was true. You knock your drink back, feeling entirely too sober for this conversation.

Eddie's mouth splits into a lazy smug smile. Finishing his own drink, he turns to you, eyes roaming over your body.

"So, do I get a turn now sweet thing?"

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. "At what?"

Well, you got to touch me. Can I touch you?"

Your eyes widen at his brazen attitude, but you'd be lying if you said this wasn't the reason you had invited him in in the first place. The very air around you feels heavy, hot with anticipation.

"Ok."

You stand up shakily, mirroring his movements from earlier, unsure hands unbuttoning your jeans. Eddie's eyes travel down to your core, predatory gaze shamelessly wandering over you. Your jeans are a little big, slipping straight to your ankles when they're undone. You kick them off and away. Standing there in your tank top and tiny white panties you've never felt so exposed in your life.

Eddie stands up for a second looking down at you, eyes shining with mischief. He winks, and drops to his knees between the couch and the coffee table, grabbing your hips and pulling you to face him.

Sizeable hands hovering over the hem of your underwear, he looks up at you. "Can I? Can I take these off?"

You nod, cheeks flaring with heat.

Eddie licks his lips, eyes never leaving your cunt. "I'm gonna need you to say it, sweet thing."

"Y-yes Eddie." You manage to stumble out.

"Atta girl."

He peels them off. They stick for a moment between your thighs, slick and heat pouring from your core. The tops of your thighs are already damp with expectancy. Your muscles clench, pressing together with angst. Eddie pries your thighs apart slightly, thumbs massaging calming circles into the flesh.

Eddie presses a kiss to your mound, stubble scratching the delicate skin ever so slightly.

"Eddie what are you doing?"

"You said I can touch you."

"Yeah, so why-"

Eddie's tongue pushes between your folds firmly, tongue bar flicking right over your clit.

The noise you make is nearly inhuman, breath knocked out of your lungs in shock. Your legs buckle at the knees, ass falling to the carpet. He takes the opportunity to wedge his head between your legs, your thighs pushed as wide as far as the narrow space allowed, stuck between the sofa and the table.

His stubble is burning the insides of your thighs, roughly rubbing against your soft skin. Eddie licks into you, pushing his tongue inside your hole. You feel the warm wetness of his thick tongue and the foreign bump of hard steel forcing shockwaves of pleasure into you. The moan he rips from you reverberates in your chest, full of want.

Eddie groans into you, tongue making it's way to your clit, running in dizzying circles. The feeling is almost too much as you buck up into him, writhing your back on the carpet.

"Oh my God, Eddie!"

You can practically feel him smirking against your dripping pussy, getting his large hands underneath your ass so he can push his face into you even further. His tongue is everywhere, eating you out messily, hungry for you. The occasional rub of steel sends your senses into overload, hips rutting shamelessly into his face.

He moves one hand from underneath you and pushes two fingers deep onto your cunt. You're on the verge of screaming, tears gathering in your eyes, overwhelmed with pleasure. The pressure of your desire collects in the pit of your stomach.

His fingers make you feel so full, reaching somewhere you've never been able to touch on your own. The rough sure movements of his hand so close to sending you over the edge, pussy grateful to have something to clench around.

"Eddie! Holy fuck." You cry out, an unsolicited tear spilling from your eye.

Eddie's mouth unlatches from your heat briefly.

"You gonna come, pretty girl? Come on, soak my face, that's my girl." And he's diving straight back in, tongue movements unmatched, strong fingers fucking into you. Desperate, filthy noises pour from your throat at the sudden onslaught.

Tensing up, you feel the unimaginable tight hot ball of desire suddenly drop. The feeling ignites through you like wildfire, coalescing into a burning, broken scream of his name.

Once you've chased your release as far as it could possibly take you, your back finally touches the floor again. Eddie moves away from you, sitting up, gazing at your fucked out form. Panting, flushing, sweating, you manage to look at him.

Eddie looks wild, feral, hair a mess, face covered and dripping with your slick. You can even see a wet shiny patch on his forehead. You giggle, dopey in your post orgasm haze.

"What? Have I got something on my face?" Eddie stares at you unblinking. You laugh loudly at that, pointing to where it was on his forehead. He laughs back and pulls his t shirt off, wiping his sticky face all over it before tossing it onto the sofa.

Your eyes go wide at the sight of him shirtless. Taunt, muscular frame, dark patch of hair covering his chest, matching the rough hair of his happy trail. He is littered with tattoos, some dark and bold, others lighter and faded. There's small patches of alabaster skin here and there. He's glistening, clearly having worked up a slight sweat just from the force of which he'd eaten you out. Muscles shining, catching the dim light.

He catches your lust filled stare and leans over you, caging your head with his strong arms.

"So, you wanna know why I've got the other piercing?" Sinful smirk turning his mouth up at the corners.

You crash your lips into his, throwing your arms around his neck. Desperate hands snake into his hair as you open your mouth to deepen the kiss. Eddie's kisses are messy but skilful, one hand moulding to the back of your head, pushing you towards him almost painfully. The need for each other is tangible, bodies colliding, rolling into one another. He sits up, pulling you along with him by the waist, tongue continuously dipping into your mouth. Finally, you break from the kiss just to breathe. It's like all the air has been sucked from the room and all you can breathe is Eddie.

He's kissing along your jaw line, down your neck; yearning, robust kisses. Heaving breaths are coming from each of you.

"Bedroom?' Eddie manages between heavy panting and pecks.

You gesture to the hall and he wastes no time in standing up, pulling you along with him, eliciting a surprised squeal from you. You wrap your legs around his waist, firm hands holding you steady, as he attempts to navigate your hallway whilst still kissing you.

Nearly tripping on your discarded jeans, he slams your back into the wall. You couldn't care less, tongue invading his mouth, pressing your naked heat against his solid bulge. His groans are so low they're almost growls, bearish and dominant. He takes the opportunity to press your form against the wall so he can pull your tank top over your head, eyes rolling back at your braless chest.

Finally, he carries you through your bedroom door, dropping you onto the bed. Unbuckling his belt and exposing himself to you for the second time today, this time he's taking his clothes off completely, standing in front of you naked in all his glory. Further tattoos cover his hairy legs, you see his thick thighs flexing. He gives you a ravening look; predacious in its delivery, with a smile that belies the lust in his eyes.

Quivering before him, he roughly widens your legs and slots his hips in between. You feel the hard shaft of his dick pressing against your slick folds, whimpering at the contact.

Hovering over you, one of his hands engulfs the side of your face, stroking down to your chin, holding you there. You stare at him open mouthed, consumed by the feeling of him rubbing up and down your wet pussy.

"You sure you want this, sweet thing?"

"Yes, Eddie please." Your voice doesn't sound like you, its smaller, meek. Your eyes plead with him.

Leaning in to you further, his hot breath whispers, deep voice on the shell of your ear. "Are you sure you can take it? Can you be a good girl for me?"

You moan loudly at him, small hands clasping at his biceps in desperation.

"Yes, please Eddie, I'll be so good for you!" You writhe underneath him.

He chuckles, biting his lip. "I knew you were into that. You got a condom?"

"No I'm on the pill, I need you, please."

"Holy shit." Eddie wastes no more time, rubbing his cock up against your entrance, strange feeling of the piercing hard against your slippery cunt.

He starts to push into you and your mouth falls open, no sound coming out. You grip his shoulders hard, trying so hard to take him. The stretch is intense. He's looking at you with concern, softer than he's ever looked at you.

"You gotta relax, my good girl, or its gonna hurt."

You nod, pupils blown, trying so hard not to clench around him. He bottoms out, the final push making you whimper.

Stroking your face, he gives you a moment to adjust.

"So fuckin' beautiful like this."

Your cheeks burn at the praise, lips enveloping his in a soft kiss.

He moves, pulling out almost all the way before pushing back in. Your eyes roll back at the feeling, a loud whine escaping from your lips. The burning feeling has been replaced with pure ecstasy. You're sure you can feel the steel of the piercing hitting that spot inside you.

Thrusting into you slowly a couple of times, you already feel pressure in your stomach, knots tied tight and begging to be released. The sensation tightens further, shoots of it flying down your legs and up your spine. You clench around him hard, moaning.

"Fuck Eddie I'm gonna cum, fuck." You pant out, eyes wide.

"Already? Shit you're gonna give me an ego."

"You already- oh God, fuck- you already have one."

He laughs loud and thrusts into you harder. Instantly you release, the ropes holding your stomach snapping. You come with a high pitched squeal of his name. You hear your wetness before you can feel it, a squelching noise resonating with each drive into your sopping cunt.

"Oh fuck, sweet thing, you squirted. Soaked me. You're- perfect" he groans. You keen at the praise.

Getting on his knees he pulls you bodily into him, slamming into you harder, hands digging at the flesh of your hips. You've never felt so full in your life, his cock piercing nudging your g spot with each thrust.

Eddie's grunting with effort, hair completely loose now, wild around his shoulders. Your fingernails bite into his flexing muscles leaving crescent moons in their wake.

"Shit, sweet thing, oh fuck."

Eddie pushes himself forcefully back on top of you, folding you in half, knees pressed against your stomach.

"Oh Eddie!"  It's just so overwhelming. You're full to the brim with him, satisfaction coating your insides, eyelids coated with emotion. Tears spring out the corners of your eyes, running down your temples. You're trembling, inundated with emotion and sensation.

"Hey, hey, you ok?" He slows.

"Yes fuck please Eddie don't fucking stop!"

Grinning wickedly he thrusts into you without restraint, slamming his hip bones into the flesh of your thighs, cock breaching you like nothing ever before.

Clamping down around him, your third orgasm is an ocean; wave after wave of sinful pleasure washing over the very fabric of your being, stripping you back to your bare components and leaving you breathless, sweating, and as exposed as a raw nerve. You babble, and cry, and whine his name, eyes tight shut, utterly taken by the moment.

Eddie's plunges into you start to falter. Feeling him twitching, becoming impossibly harder inside you he comes, spilling his seed deep into your cunt. The warm, rushing feeling just expands the length of your own release, waves finally ebbing and retreating.

Eddie pulls out from you, leaving you feeling emptier than ever before. He lies on his side next to you, thumb approaching to rub a stray tear from your cheek. You're both perspiring; glowing forms gasping for air.

Finally catching some semblance of breath, he strokes your cheek again, wide grin dissipating on his face.

"You ok pretty girl?"

"Yeah you could say that." You huffed a laugh, still trying to focus on how he'd made you feel.

"But you cried?" Its a question, but he looks concerned, hands attempting to comfort you.

"It was just, so much. Too good, you know." Taking in his smirk you say "don't you let that go to your head!"

"Bit fuckin' late for that" he laughs. "C'mere."

He gathers you up in his strong arms, holding you close, and kisses you on the forehead. The affection honestly takes you by surprise, expecting him to have bolted by this point, having got what he wanted.

"Can I level with you?"

Oh shit here we go.

"I've wanted to do that since you moved in." He grins at you.

"Oh, really?" You look up at him, surprised that he'd been feeling the same as you. "Well, same. You're really hot."

He laughs and strokes your back.

"You working tomorrow?"

"No, why? Are you?"

"No. I wanna take you out somewhere, if you want." He almost looks embarrassed. Almost.

"Are you asking me out on a date Mr Munson?" You smirk at him in disbelief.

"I mean, yeah, if you wanna. Unless you just wanted this to be a one time thing, I get it, I can just leave." There's a quaver to his voice. A weakness your not used to hearing.

You stare up at him. Cocky, confident Eddie Munson, was about as unsure as you were. You giggle.

"I'd love to go on a date with you." Smiling, you attempt to hide it into his inked chest.

"So, wanna take a shower?"

"Well" you say, leaning up on your elbow, "we could. Or..."

"Or what, sweet thing?" He rubs your arm, furrowing his brow.

"Or, we could do that again."

Tag list (please reblog this fic if you want to stay in the tags ILY ❤)

@angelsarecallin @cutiecusp @pxrxcxa @spencerinmydrawls @munsquinns @sillypurplemurple @tiannamortis @walleloveseve @sinczir @biblichornerd @frogers @lauraasiain @madiisixx @leftdonkeygothgoop-blog @rafestarkeysblog @kittykatvenom @southside-serpent-bae @psychedelicsandsunsalutations @biblichornerd @angelina16torres-blog @ocean-of-rage @kirksslut @venisvendetta @pretty-vulture @munsonology @miss-nothing29 @lady-jane3 @eddiemunsonwife222 @reidslittlegenius213 @sombodynotimportant @mystars123 @bloodsuccaaa @rabbitsf00t @scrumplump @crazylove-69 @wonderfulw0rldx @ifiwereazombie @spencerinmydrawls @athenamunson1 @soggycinnamonroll @skunknuts-wine @residentdreamy @ab05 @janaedaze @midmare2000 @pollenallergie @spiderlily02 @eddiemunsonsbedroom @gumballsglassofmilk @gnomesboi3002 @kiwi-bitchez @mangodrgnfruit @skinij3fx @6charly66 @50shadesofuncomfortable @fvckpretty @the-fairy-anon @spooks97 @figsfigsfigs @cutiecusp @cherrychilli @devilinthepalemoonlite @magnificantmermaid @chickpeadumpsterfire @lightvixxen @eddiemunsonfuxks @corrodedhawkins @munson-blurbs @indouloureux @eddiemunsonsheart @eddiesprincess86

[222col]

is it casual now?

★ patrick zweig x reader ★ based on the song 'casual' by chappell roan (rlly reccomend listening first!!) ★ 5.2k ★ 18+ | inc: angst (!!!), smut, m + f oral, public sex, breeding ★ an: patrick is a college student & also has a sister for context (part two)

patrick's barely dressed as he starts to leave, picking up his phone from your desk, opening the door before turning round to look at you once more. "oh yeah, my family want you to come to our beach house this weekend." no emotion on his face as he stands in your doorway. "they do or you do?" you question, sitting up in your bed, blanket covering your body. "my sister told my mom how much you helped her the other week, so they wanted you to come, you don't have to." he's fiddling with his keys, aching to leave your room. "okay, just text me the details." patrick nods to you and darts down the hall. getting yourself dressed before calling your best friend.

"sounds like his sister wants you there, not him." she tells you down the phone. "well maybe, but he could have just told them no or not invited me." you're pacing your room, desperately trying to defend your excitement for a weekend with patrick. "ugh, why are you so hung up on this guy? you're being such a loser, you know he told you no strings." you've had this conversation with your best friend so many times, yet the words just don't get through to you. "i know, i know. i just like him, okay? i think it could go somewhere." you hear her sigh through the phone. "have you heard the things he tells his friends about you?" you hold your breath, knowing this isn't going to be good. "he calls you a slut, an easy one at that, i heard him talking to art about it at tennis." you sink onto the floor, back leaning against your wall. "i'm sorry, i know it's awful to hear, but you need to get it into your head, that he doesn't think of you like that."

patrick picks you up friday afternoon, driving you both to his parents' beach house. his hand on your thigh as you stare out the window. "what's up with you? normally you would have dragged me into the back seat by now." patrick questions. "well this all just feels weird, you're driving us to spend a weekend with your parents, i feel like your girlfr-" patrick doesn't even let you finish your sentence. "we're not together." you shake your head and return your gaze to the window. "yeah, you've made that very clear, don't you worry." turning up the radio so patrick doesn't return with a sarcastic comment or dig any further. the rest of the journey is silent between the two of you, the radio serving as a distraction, after a few hours you pull up to patrick's parents' house. his younger sister is waving at you both from the front door. you met her at a frat party patrick brought her along to, the two of you got on well, and you helped her when some frat boys were being way too forward.

grabbing his own bag from the car, he leaves you to collect your own from the trunk. "not even gonna help this nice young lady with her bags, some gentleman i raised you to be." patrick's father says, appearing on the porch. patrick snatches your bag from your hands before pushing his way into the house, introducing yourself to his parents, patrick's sister shows you to your room. "you'll be sharing with patrick, obviously." she states, pushing open the door of the room. "what?" you question, patrick rolling his eyes and pulling you into the room, closing the door on his sister. "i can't exactly tell my parents we're fuck buddies, can i?"

later that night, patrick brings you with him to a bonfire on the beach with some of his friends that live nearby. "zweig, it's been too long." he's engulfed into the reunions but just about remembers to introduce you to his friends. beers are shared as marshmallows are toasted on the fire, all of you sat on logs and in the sand. one of patrick's friends coming to sit next to you as patrick catches up with his neighbour. "so, are you and patrick, like, together?" he asks you, he's not bad looking, so you think about entertaining him. "no, we just fuck." you laugh into your can of beer, taking another swig. "you're single then?" he asks you, shuffling closer. looking to him and nodding, his eyes lighting up. a shiver runs down your spine, making you realise how cold you are. "here, take this." he places his jacket over your shoulders, you could dream of patrick doing such a chivalrous act. slipping your arms through the sleeves and thanking him. "you're really pretty, by the way." that's all it takes. your lips lean up to kiss him. the only compliments you get are from patrick while he's inside you or frat boys as they spank your ass at parties. his hands wrap around your waist before you feel yourself being dragged away from his lips.

patrick pulls you off down the beach by your arm, stopping in his tracks when his friends are out of ear shot, looking down at you, his chest rising. "what the fuck are you doing?" he asks you, his words harsh. "i was making out with that guy before you interrupted." you return, arms crossed. "may i remind you that you're here with me, not some random fucker you just met?" you can feel his breath on your face as he speaks. "and may i remind you that we're not together, and i can kiss who i like?" patrick loves it when your bitchy side comes out, but right now he can't acknowledge it. eye contact hasn't broken once between you, titling your head as you wait for patrick's response. nothing slips from his lips before he grabs your face and pushes his mouth onto yours. hungrily kissing you, pushing your body back until you hit the rocks, his hand reaching under your skirt. "your friends are right there." you groan into his ear, looking back to look you in the eyes as his hand slips into your underwear. "do i look like i care?"

his fingers stroke up through your folds. "neither do you, by the feel of things." patrick hums, bringing his fingers to his lips as he sucks the wetness from between his digits, before pushing them into your mouth. smiling and nodding his head as he removes his fingers and slips them back into your underwear, inserting his two middle fingers into your cunt. the rocks disguising your bodies from patrick's friends, but you know if they looked closely enough they'd see everything. quiet moans leave your lips as patrick fucks you with his fingers, his other hand coming up to cover your mouth. "shut the fuck up, or do you want all my friends to see you riding my fingers?" patrick's fingers move at pace, curling up to hit your g-spot as he sucks bruises onto your neck. bringing his thumb up to circle your clit, leaning down to palm him through his shorts, grabbing and rubbing his cock through the fabric. "you want it, don't you?" patrick smirks, as you softly nod your head. "you want me to fuck you here on the beach, up against these rocks as my friends stand twenty feet away?" he can feel you smirking under his hand, just nodding your head. "god, where did you come from?" he moans, pulling his hands off your body to shuffle his shorts down his body. looking over to his friends, who are all engrossed in a drinking game of some kind, he lifts your leg, holding it up against the rocks, pushing your panties to the side as he pushes himself into your cunt.

leaning his elbow on the rock behind your head to keep himself steady, his hand covering your mouth again as his hips slap against your skin, thrusting himself in and out of you. even his hand pushing into your face can barely contain the noises you're making. "shut up." he groans into your ear, slamming himself into you. his cock filling you up as his friends are none the wiser. "hmm, this is so fucking hot, baby." patrick whispers to you, his breathing heavy, sweat forming on his skin as he keeps fucking you. rocks digging into your back as patrick's weight falls onto your body, his thrusts getting sloppy. pulling out of you suddenly to push you onto your knees, cuts and grazes form on the skin as the sharp rocks pierce your fall. forcing his cock into your mouth as he holds the back of your head, fucking your face before shooting his load down your throat. "fuck- such a good girl."

pulling up his shorts quickly, and helping you onto your feet. kissing you deeply before walking back over to his group of friends. sitting down on one of the logs, pulling you onto his knee. you try to hide your furrowed brows from him, not used to this affectionate side of patrick. it's rare that he kisses you after you've had sex, let alone pulling you onto his knee in front of his friends. "god, what happened to your knees?" one of patrick's friends asks, handing you both another can of beer. patrick can't help the shit eating grin form on his face, looking down at your knees to see them covered in blood. "oh, i just fell over onto the rocks, no biggie." patrick kisses your cheek, opening his can of beer, whispering into your ear. "sorry baby, didn't mean to be so rough with you." you really can't hide your reaction this time, either patrick's had more to drink than you thought or he actually feels bad for making you bleed.

a couple more drinking games later, patrick walks the two of you back up to his parents' house. patrick didn't let you sit anywhere other than his lap the rest of the night. entering patrick's bedroom, he walks over to the small en-suite, wetting a towel and starts cleaning up your knees as you take off your sandy clothes. "why are you being so weird?" you finally ask him. he looks up at you from his position on the floor by your feet. "i'm not?" he returns. "you're looking after me, kissing me in front of your friends, that is very weird, actually." patrick chews the inside of his cheek, wiping the blood from your knees as you wince at the sting. "i don't know, am i not allowed to do those things?" he's not looking at you anymore, focusing his attention on cleaning you up. "yeah, you can, it's just confusing." he throws the towel into the laundry hamper, along with yours and his clothes. you slip into an oversized t-shirt as patrick gets into bed in just his boxers, turning off the light as you lay together in darkness. "i'm not the only one being weird, you kissed my friend in front of me, that's pretty confusing too." patrick mumbles, the two of you facing each other, the moon light barely allowing you to see each others faces. "whatever, don't worry about it." patrick adds on, turning around to go to sleep.

the next morning is as though nothing happened the night previous, you and patrick spending the day at the beach with his sister. playing tennis and swimming, having fun. patrick's parents shouting over after lunch that they've booked a table at the restaurant down the road for dinner. checking the time on your phone, you head back to get ready. you hear a slap against patrick's arm as you leave the beach. "how are you not in a relationship with her?" you overhear patrick's sister ask him as you head towards the house, smirking as you go. showering before doing your make up and getting dressed, slipping a white dress onto your body, checking yourself in the mirror as patrick walks into the bedroom. "you look beaut-" he stops his words, coughing as he continues. "hot, you look hot." he corrects himself, showering quickly and changing into a button up and jeans as you finish off curling your hair.

the five of you arrive at the restaurant, enjoying glasses of wine as patrick's parents' learn more about you. his hand on your thigh under the table as they ask about your major at college and how you spend your free time. before dessert you excuse yourself to the bathroom, hearing patrick tell his family that he's going for a smoke. closing the door to the sole bathroom of the restaurant, patrick's foot stopping it from closing. pushing himself into the room quickly. "what are you doing?" you ask, as he locks the door behind the two of you. "i need you." he mumbles, pushing you up against the wall as his lips attack yours. "patrick, we're literally at dinner with your parents, can you not wait until we get home?" you protest, his hands groping your chest as he suckles the skin on your exposed collarbones. "no, need you now." groaning as he moves your hand onto his crotch. "can't you see how much you're turning me on? you look so good tonight." you've never seen him so desperate, so needy for you. finally giving in, palming him through his jeans. spinning you around, pushing you up against the sink, grinding against your ass as he pulls your dress up. the fabric bunching around your waist, your panties pulled down your legs. you hear the sound of his belt buckle hitting the floor, his cock hitting your clit as he pushes your legs open. looking into your eyes through the mirror in front of you as he pushes himself into your hole. one hand on your hips as the other instinctively covers your mouth. staring at you in the reflection as he pounds himself into you, looking back at him through the mirror too. watching him come apart behind you as he loses himself in the moment.

"god, you feel so fucking good, baby." he groans into your neck, his cock filling you up as your hips repeatedly hit the sink, bruising your skin. patrick's calloused hands trapping every sound that leaves your lips, making you so conscience of the reality of the situation. holding in your cries and moans as he pumps in and out of you. "you're so fucking perfect, fuck- i love you." you can feel your heart sink at patrick's words, as he's barely even aware they left his mouth. the grip he has on your waist tightening, his fingernails digging into the skin. your chest rising and falling, breathing deeper, focusing on his dick filling you up, desperate to not acknowledge his words. he didn't mean it, he can't mean it, he's just caught up in the moment, you have to tell yourself. his hand slips from your mouth to grasp the other side of your waist, pulling you back into him as he keeps thrusting into you. no moans leave your mouth, just hot breaths, so fixated on patrick's confession. he pulls you back onto him once more as his load shoots up inside you, groans leaving his lips as he does.

patrick holds you there for a second, before pulling out of you, his come beginning to drip out from you. frozen on the spot until he starts pulling up his jeans. i love you. the words are spinning around your head. he kisses your cheek before doing up his belt. "i'll meet you back at the table." he winks, slipping out of the bathroom. cleaning yourself up as you pull your underwear back up your legs. checking yourself in the mirror before rejoining the table with patrick's family, mere seconds before he does. "i wish you'd stop smoking, pat." his mother says, frowning at her son. "i know, i know." he mumbles back, swigging from his glass. patrick and his sister go for a walk on the beach when you all get back to the house, leaving you alone in his room. changing into your pjs, packing away your things, ready for the drive back to college the next day. it's late by the time patrick slips into bed, assuming you're asleep next to him, he places a kiss on your forehead. "goodnight, sweet girl." so grateful for the darkness as your cheeks flush, being pulled onto patrick's chest as the two of you fall asleep.

waking up on opposite sides of the bed, the two of you get ready to leave his parents' beach house. thanking his parents for being so accommodating and hugging his sister goodbye. "i like her for you, patrick." you hear his mom tell him during their goodbyes, smiling and waving as you both enter his car, beginning the drive home. "they like you." he says, one hand on the wheel, the other squeezing your thigh. "that's nice. i'm glad." you mumble out the window, his eyes darting between you and the road. he rolls his eyes at your bluntness and carries on driving, pulling into a gas station after a little while on the road. filling up the tank while you use the bathroom, coming back out to see him leaning on the car, phone to his ear. he throws you his wallet, nodding towards the clerk, signalling you to go pay. "yeah, fucked her in the bathroom of the restaurant too." he laughs into his phone. "i know, my parents just sat at the table none the wiser." ignoring the words that weren't meant for your ears, you enter the store, grabbing a redbull and paying for the gas. walking back over to the parked car, patrick still laughing into his phone. "i know man, she's so fucking dirty, maybe i'd let you fuck her and you can really see what i mean."

holding back your tears as the whispers of i love you slip through your fingers, jumping into the car, slamming the door behind you. patrick turning around at the sound, rushing himself off the phone and into the drivers seat. pulling out of the gas station as he questions your actions. your knees are up to your chest, hugging your legs as he drives. "why did you just slam my door?" patrick asks, staring over to you. "i didn't mean to." you grumble, refusing to look over to him. "yeah right, you've been acting like a bitch since last night." he rolls his eyes, knuckles tight on the steering wheel. "whatever, no i haven't." aching for patrick to just ignore your reactions and drive you home. he sighs and pulls into a old dirt road, turning off the car and manoeuvring his body to face you. stating your name as he undoes your seatbelt. "will you just tell me what's going on?" you ignore him, pushing your emotions down. grabbing your legs, he brings your body round to face him. he's smiling softly at you, waiting on your words. when you still don't reply, he leans over and places his lips on yours. trying desperately to resist his kiss, but it's inevitable, you melt into him. anger and sadness and lust wash over you, your hands on the back of his head, kissing him like you'll never be able to again. his lips travel down you, his body contorting to position his head between your legs. dipping under your skirt, pulling your underwear to the side, humming as his face pushes into your cunt.

licking a line through your folds, swallowing the wetness on his tongue as he licks over your clit. your head leaning on the window, hands in his hair, moaning out his name. "my name sounds perfect when you moan it like that." patrick whispers against you, tonguing your clit, sloppy kisses placed there as his fingers push inside you. the radio playing is overshadowed by the mewls escaping your lips. his dark curls tickling your thighs as your fingers scratch at his scalp. your hips bucking onto his face, grinding against him as his tongue laps you up. his nose bumping over your clit as your thighs clench around him. the sunlight through the windows highlighting the wetness over his face, his blue eyes looking up at you, smirking into your cunt. his fingers curling up as your body jolts, orgasm washing over you, whimpering his name as he removes his tongue. slipping out his fingers, pushing them into your mouth. smiling at you as you suck the taste of yourself off his digits. smoothing your skirt back down as patrick repositions himself in the drivers seat. he laughs, wiping the wetness of you from his chin. the two of you smiling at each other, putting your seatbelts back on as patrick reverses up the dirt road, carrying on with the drive home.

the two of you laugh and talk the whole way home, arriving at your dorm as patrick grabs both of your bags out of his car. "can i stay the night? i can't be bothered walking to my dorm." he asks, his car already locked and keys in his pocket. "patrick, your dorm is like a five minute walk away." you laugh at him, grabbing your room keys from your purse. "please?" it's so rare that patrick's soft like this, you've seen it more this weekend, and you've learnt you can't say no to it. "sure." you smile, leading you both to your room. dropping your bags by your desk, patrick slumps onto your bed, pulling you on top of him. "this weekend was nice." he mumbles, nuzzling his head into your neck. "yeah, your family are nice." you say, avoiding the idea of acknowledging any of the new found emotions between the two of you. "my sisters cool, my parents are fine." he responds, keeping your body on top of his, arms wrapped around you. "it was cool having you there to distract me." you'd assume he means with sex, but his tone tells otherwise. luckily your phone starts ringing before you can confess to patrick how much you enjoyed the time with him. "hey, yeah, we just got back, me and patrick are just at my dorm." you talk into the phone to your best friend, sitting up on the edge of the bed. patrick kissing the back of your shoulders as you speak. smiling back at him as you listen to your friend.

"when?" you ask down the phone, patrick peering up at you, furrowed brows. "yeah sure, i'll ask patrick if he wants to come. see you later." putting the phone down, turning to face patrick, his head on your pillow. "ask me to come where?" he smiles at you, arm snaking around your hips. "a party, tonight. do you wanna go?" patrick grins widely, nodding his head at your words. patrick heads to your bathroom to shower, sitting at your desk to do your make up. wishing for some time alone to process your weekend at patrick's beach house, to really consider his words and actions, to force yourself out of this idea you've created that patrick could actually like you. but knowing you'd never send him away, it's like your addicted to him. unable to tell him no, wanting to savour every moment with him, not knowing when he's going to snap back to his old ways of leaving you naked on your bed as he darts home. enjoying these domestic moments you and patrick are sharing, feeling like his girlfriend, playing house before his attention is drawn elsewhere.

pulling your denim mini skirt over your hips, and readjusting your crop top, patrick re-enters your room. zipping up the fly of his jeans and pulling down his polo. "are you trying to kill me?" he asks, mouth slightly agape as he breaths out deeply. you laugh, applying another layer of lip gloss. "what do you mean?" you ask, leaning down to your mirror. "you look so fucking good." patrick states, spanking your ass as he sits to put his shoes on. laughing as you do up the small buckles on your heels, putting your phone into your purse and heading out the door. patrick laces his fingers through yours as you walk down the hall of your dorm, heading for the frat house hosting the party. looking down at your joined hands, then up to patrick. "what? your hands are soft." even patrick doesn't believe the reasoning he gave as you laugh at his words. "whatever, i can fuck you but not hold your hand? is that how this works?" patrick laughs as you shake your head, tightening your grip on his hand and heading off campus.

your best friend is waiting outside for you when you arrive, patrick dropping your hand as you walk up the pathway. "i'll meet up with you later okay? i'm still staying at yours so don't leave without me." patrick winks to you as he enters the house. hugging your friend as she sighs at patrick's words. she leads you into the back garden, handing you a white claw and kicking some frat boys off the garden furniture. you tell her everything about the weekend, her eyes rolling and brows furrowing as you explain the details. "he told you he loved you?!" she almost shouts, shushing her immediately. "keep your voice down!" you return, checking your surroundings for patrick, luckily he's nowhere to be seen. "it was during the bathroom hook up, i don't think he meant it." she breathes sharply, opening another can of white claw for each of you. "well, have you talked to him about it?" she asks, handing you the can. "no, oh my god, no!" shaking your head as you swig your drink. the two of you continue gossiping about your time away with patrick, laughing your way through more drinks. heading inside to the kitchen to get more alcohol and have a dance together, your best friend stops you in your tracks. "don't turn around." she holds you in place. "what? why?" you ask, forcing your way out of her grip and spinning on your heels.

in the corner of the kitchen stands patrick, his arms laced around a blonde, kissing her lips. her hands in his hair, bodies pushed together. your heartbeat fastens, eyes closing slowly as you take in the scene before you. shoulders dropping, watching patrick's hands caress her skin. "c'mon, let's go back outside, he's an asshole." your best friend says, barely hearing her over the ringing in your ears. she picks up a bottle of vodka from the kitchen counter and pulls you back outside. your eyes welling up, sitting back down on the plastic chair, sipping from the bottle she hands you. stealing a cigarette from the boy smoking next to you, she lights it and hands it to you. "fuck him, okay? he's fucking awful, you can do so much better." her words barely getting through to you, hands shaking as you bring the cigarette up to your lips. "but he told me he-" she knows what you're going to say, cutting you off before you can finish. "don't. you can't think about that right now." she tells you, leaning over, stroking your knee. a single tear falls from your eye, wiped away by your friend before it can reach your cheek. she sits with you quietly, letting you get yourself together. wiping away your tears and collecting your breathing. "do i look okay?" you ask her, stubbing out the cigarette. smiling at you like a cheshire cat, she stands up. "you look hot. c'mon, let's show that asshole what he's missing."

holding your hand, the two of you enter the group of people dancing, swaying together and letting your hips around to the music. letting some semi-hot frat boy pull your back to his chest, arm snaked around your hips as you grind onto him. your friend running to the bathroom as frat boy's lips press to your neck, eyes forward as you see patrick leaning against the wall. his eyes on you, between all the bodies blocking the path to each other. smirking, drinking his beer as you continue dancing, eyes never leaving his.

the night continues like this, patrick alone watching you from the sidelines as you dance the night away. the party starts to clear as patrick comes over to you and your best friend, both of you ready to call it a night. "c'mon, let me take you both home." he sighs, ready for you to fight him on the idea, but you don't, you can't. "fine." the three of you walk in silence, heels being carried in your hand. you and patrick walk your friend to her door, before carrying on down the hall to your dorm. the two of you enter your room, dropping your shoes and bag on the floor and sitting on your bed, back leaning against the wall. patrick moves your desk chair to sit opposite you. "what's going on? why were you dancing with that guy all night?" he questions. "what's it to you? you were kissing that girl anyway, surprised you didn't go home with her instead." your words hiss, the alcohol in your system bypassing any filters you would typically adhere to. patrick scoffs at you, leaning forward, elbows balanced on his knees. "i didn't know you saw that." he says, his words soft, almost guilty. you shrug your shoulders, bringing your legs up to your stomach, chin resting on your knees. "you told me you loved me." you whisper, as though saying it any louder would make tears fall from your eyes. "what? speak up." patrick asks, shuffling the chair closer to the bed. taking a deep breath in you repeat yourself. "you told me you loved me."

patrick's eyes flutter closed, lip between his teeth. "i didn't mean it." he lies to you, not that he'd ever admit it was a lie. tears slowly fall from your eyes, grasping your legs tighter. "but you-" you whisper again, before patrick cuts you off. "i didn't mean it, okay? we're not together, we fuck, we're fuck buddies, there's no strings." his words are like daggers, your eyes closed, tears slipping out through your lashes. "okay." is all you can muster, finally looking him in the eyes. his heart breaking at the sight of you. "can you please leave?" you ask him, your head falling down onto your knees. as if looking at his face would break your heart into smaller pieces. "yeah, okay." his words are heavy, refusing to look up as he stands and grabs his dufflebag. opening the door to leave, turning to look at you once more, but your eyes stay planted into your lap. sighing, he closes the door behind him.

falling onto your side, the tears falling faster from your eyes now, hugging the pillow that still smells like him. so angry that you let yourself fall for his charm, disgusted at yourself that you really believed he could love you, and just so sad knowing all you wanted to do was say it back. hating yourself for letting it drag on so long. falling asleep in your mini skirt and crop top, eyes puffy as you know that'll be the last time you see patrick zweig.

[azrielslittleslut]

Angst is always good. especially if it ends in comfort or something like that 💙🤭 how about the fact that reader had to go through something similar to azriel and she also has burns/scars on her hands. That's why she feels very insecure and holds back a lot from others, which of course doesn't go unnoticed. The others try to help her, but in the end it is Azriel who gets through to her and also reveals to her his insecurity about his hands

"Scars Like His"

Azriel x Autumn Court!Reader

Warnings: angst, talk of past trauma, slight language, fluffy ending

Word Count: 3.5k

a/n: reader is Beron's daughter, and Beron is an asshole.

Enjoy!

You fumbled with the button on your glove, your fingers trembling with frustration. You always struggled with small tasks like this-buttons, zippers, holding a pen- but you were too stubborn to admit it to yourself.

You refused to acknowledge that your scars were a burden on your life, that they ran deeper than just the physical. So you ignored them, always covering them with gloves or placing them behind your back. You knew that if you looked at them for too long, you would be taken back to that dark time, back to that day when everything had been ripped from you.

Being the only daughter born to Beron and his Lady, you grew up like a caged flower, always being watched and scrutinized. You had been forbidden to leave your bedroom unless you were given permission. Your meals were timed and monitored, and anytime you did manage to get some freedom, guards were always at your side.

You had never understood Beron's hatred for you. You had always tried your best to be the daughter he wanted. You had never complained, even when you listened to your brothers play outside, laughing and living the normal life you so desperately wanted. The prison you had been locked in became so normal that you had never questioned if Beron would actually harm you. For the most part, it had seemed like he had forgotten about you.

Until that day happened.

You had been sitting in your bedroom, trying to read using the light coming from the small square window. Beron had slammed the door open, his guards right behind him. His face had been full of fury and rage, and you had cowered against the wall, your body shaking in the presence of the male who was supposed to love you.

"Where is it?" he demanded, his voice nothing short of a snarl. "I know you took it."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Father," you whispered, tears welling in your eyes. "I've been in this room, just like you want me to."

Beron's face twisted in disgust. "I am not your Father, and you are no daughter of mine." Despite the numbness you felt, the words stung. He jerked his chin to one of your guards. "Has she left this room? Don't like to me."

The guard's eyes flicked between you and Beron, his face pale. "Yes, my lord. She bribed me. I was going to tell you once my shift was over."

Your heart stammered inside of your chest at the lie. You hadn't left this room, but it was evident that your father believed the word of a low-ranked guard over his own daughter. "Seize her," Beron commanded. His guards rushed into the room, grabbing you by the shoulders and forcing you to your knees. "You think you can steal from me and get away with it?"

You looked up at him, tears streaming down your face. "Father, please I-" you were cut off as Beron slapped you across your face, your skin burning from the impact.

"I told you not to call me that," he growled. "Give me your hands."

You shook your head, but the guards holding you grabbed your arms, holding up your trembling hands. Beron raised his own hands which were now engulfed in flames. His eyes held no mercy, no love, as he lowered his hands, his fingers mere inches from yours.

"No! No! Please, no!" you screamed, struggling against the guards. But their hold on you was like iron, and your body was weak from lack of proper food. "I didn't do anything wrong!" The fire was so close now, so close you could feel the heat-

"Take this as a reminder not to take what is mine," Beron murmured as he grabbed your hands. The pain was agonizing, your skin melting off as the flames made their way up to your wrists. You screamed and screamed and screamed, but nobody heard you.

Nobody came to rescue you.

Your hands had healed, slowly. But they were still horribly scarred, the skin mottled and warped and disgusting. You had to re-learn how to do the simplest things, such as writing and dressing yourself... and clasping buttons on your gloves.

You supposed you should have moved on from that day, as you had not lived in the Autumn Court for a while. You had managed to escape, once you came of age, and you had sought refuge in various courts, praying to the Mother that Beron wouldn't come after you.

He never did, though. You were a burden on him, after all, and you being gone was one less thing he had to worry about.

"Are you ready?" Nesta asked, her soft voice pulling you out of your horrible memories. "Cassian is waiting. He said he expects you to be on time today."

You smiled at Nesta as you lowered your gloved hands. You had given up on the button, but the fit was snug, so you knew the glove wouldn't come off. "Cassian needs to learn patience," you said as you walked toward the door. "I'm never late. I'm just fashionably punctual."

Nesta laughed as the two of you walked toward the training ring. You had lived in some of the other courts, trying to fit in and live there comfortably. It wasn't until you had wandered into the Night Court that you felt what it was like to be home. You had always heard that the Night Court was full of sadistic killers, but you had found the opposite to be true.

You had gotten a job at one of the bookstores in Velaris, which was how you met Nesta. She had shown up one day looking for more romance novels, and the two of you had bonded over your favorite scenes in the books you had read.

Strangely enough, the friendship between yourself and the High Lady's sister had blossomed. You had heard rumors about Nesta's sudden and painful transformation that turned her into High Fae, and your heart had broken for her. Perhaps your friendship was so strong because she too understood what it was like to go through something horrible and traumatic, all while trying to act like everything was normal.

Nesta had introduced you to the Inner Circle, and they had taken you in as one of their own. They knew you came from Autumn Court, but that was it. You didn't tell them you were Beron's daughter, and they never asked why you always covered your hands. You had found friends and a... family, and you no longer wanted to live in the past.

It hadn't taken long for you to decide to start training with Cassian and the Valkyries. You wanted to learn how to fight, how to defend yourself against anyone else who could hurt you.

"What are we working on today?" you asked as the two of you made your way into the training ring. In the center, you could see Cassian showing Gwyn and Emerie some new sword techniques. "I need to know what to prepare myself for."

Nesta kicked her shoes off, a strand of her hair blowing slightly in the wind. "Cassian mentioned something about hand-to-hand combat. It's my least favorite, so I hope he changed his mind."

"He didn't change his mind," a deep voice said from behind. "Which is unfortunate. Hand-to-hand is my least favorite, too."

You turned on your heel, your eyes widening slightly as they landed on Azriel. He was dressed in his leathers, the scaled armor hugging his muscled form. Some of his shadows swirled around his shoulders and wings, while others hovered in the doorway as if they were trying to stay out of the sunlight. "Oh. Hey, Azriel," you greeted, forcing your voice to steadiness.

The shadowsinger had caught your attention the first time you met him. He was the most beautiful male you had ever seen, all tall, dark, and handsome. You knew that he was one of the most feared males in all of Prythian, but when you looked at him, you only saw gentleness and kindness.

You have seen true evil, and Azriel was nothing like that.

Azriel smiled softly. "Glad to see you're on time today. Cassian will be proud," he said, his hazel eyes dancing. The way he looked at you made you feel bare, as if he could see all of your secrets. You moved your gloved hands behind your back, desperate to keep them away from the spymaster's calculating gaze.

Nesta scoffed. "She says she's never late. Only fashionably punctual. Whatever the hell that means."

"Hey!" Cassian called from the training ring. "Less talking. More training. Let's go!"

You rolled your eyes, turning around to walk toward Cassian, but you were stopped by a gentle hand on your arm. You glanced down at the scarred flesh, your stomach twisting at the sight. You had seen Azriel's scars before, and you often wondered what horrible experience had caused them. "Your gloves," he murmured. "You should take them off before training. They can get in the way during this type of combat."

You gently pulled your arm free from his grasp, forcing your expression to remain neutral. "My hands are cold," you responded, hoping that was a good enough answer. "Thank you for the advice, though."

You sprinted into the training area, leaving Azriel behind in the shadows of the doorway. You could still feel his eyes on your back as you took your place beside Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie. Azriel made his way next to Cassian, his black hair gobbling up the light in the training ring.

"Today, we are working on hand-to-hand combat," Cassian announced. He paced back in forth, his wings tucked in tight as he gave his instructions. "First rule: keep your balance. If you're off balance, you're vulnerable. The second rule: control your breathing. It seems like a small thing, but it's the difference between lasting five minutes and lasting an hour." He ran a finger across his chin, his eyes flicking over to Azriel. "Anything to add?"

Azriel seemed to ponder for a moment, his eyes falling on you. His gaze was soft as it ran up your body, stopping for a second on your gloved hands. He cleared his throat before saying, "Keep your guard up. Don't give an opponent a shot at something they could use to their advantage."

You fought the urge to hide your hands again as you felt a blush creep onto your cheeks. You knew it was stupid to be wearing gloves, but you didn't want others to see your scars. What if they didn't want to touch you?

"Right. Let's quit wasting daylight and get to it." Cassian jerked his chin to Nesta. "Pick your opponent, Nes."

Nesta smiled, her eyes twinkling as they landed on you. "Let's see if little miss 'fashionably punctual' has learned anything since joining us for training."

You swore your heart stopped beating for a moment. Of course, you had taken part in some of the training exercises. You could hold a sword, and your endurance had gotten better. But you had never fought before, especially not someone like Nesta. She was a warrior, a Valkyrie. And you were, well... you. A female who is scarred, weak, broken, someone who wasn't even good enough to earn the love of a father.

Nesta's piercing gaze softened as she sensed your hesitation. "Don't worry," she murmured, offering her hand to you. "I'll go easy on you. This is to help you learn."

"Okay," you said with a nod. You took her hand, grateful that she didn't say anything about your gloves. "Let's get this over with."

You and Nesta circled each other, your heart hammering inside of your chest. Her expression was a mask of calm focus, which only seemed to increase your nerves. "Ready?" Nesta asked, her voice even, though there was a hint of something softer in her tone.

You nodded, your throat so dry you were unable to speak.

Nesta moved first, slow and deliberate, giving you a chance to react. "Stay balanced. Keep your guard up," she instructed, watching as you hastily raised your hands. "Good. Now, try to block me."

The first few strikes were controlled, more of a test than anything. Nesta's fists came at you with controlled precision, and you managed to block some of them, though each impact sent a jolt through your arms.

"Not bad," Nesta remarked, her breathing slow and even. You, on the other hand, were fighting for each breath. "But don't just react-anticipate."

You tried to focus, but the combination of nerves and heat from the sun made your movements sluggish. Your hands were starting to sweat in the gloves, and you silently cursed yourself for wearing them. Azriel was right- they were getting in the way. You were so focused on trying to keep them on, and Nesta's precise movements were causing your body to get tired.

Each strike was faster, aiming for your vulnerable spots. Nesta sent a particularly painful jab to your side, which caused you to stumble back. Nesta's eyes widened as she reached a hand out, her fingers grabbing your glove to keep you from falling on your ass.

She grabbed the glove that you had been unable to button earlier, and because of your sweaty hand, the glove slid off, and you fell down hard on your ass.

But the pain and embarrassment of your falling was nothing compared to the feeling of your scarred hand being exposed to the air.

Nesta's eyes landed on the glove in her palm. Slowly, she raised them to your hand, which was now lying limply on the ground, the scars plain to see due to the bright sun. "Are you alright?" she asked, kneeling down, her eyes now on your face. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you that hard."

What? You're not going to say anything about my scars? you wanted to ask, but you stayed silent, your body shaking.

Cassian stepped forward, his broad hand gently clasping your shoulder. "Stand up," he muttered. "If you stay on the ground, your opponent will kill you."

You pushed yourself up, standing on trembling legs. You hid your exposed hand behind your back as you looked at everyone in the training ring. Nesta was still on the ground, her eyes full of concern. Cassian stood next to you, his expression soft. Gwyn and Emerie shared twin expressions of worry and Azriel... He was looking at you carefully, as if you were an animal locked inside of a cage.

You spun on your heels and ran, ignoring Cassian as he called out your name. You sprinted through the House of Wind, not knowing where you were going. You didn't live here, and you were only here because of Nesta's kindness.

What if she didn't want to be your friend anymore?

Hot tears spilled down your cheeks as you pushed open a door. The room appeared to be a sitting room of sorts, with soft chairs, a bookshelf, and a fireplace. You slammed the door closed and leaned against the wall, your breath coming out in rapid pants. You raised your hand up, your eyes looking down at your ruined skin.

Who would want you now? Who would let you touch them or be next to them with skin such as this?

The door opened, and you cowered against the wall, wishing you could just disappear. You opened your mouth to tell Nesta that you weren't in the mood to talk, but you snapped it shut as Azriel stepped into the room.

"Hey," he whispered, in that soft voice like shadows given sound. "I know you probably don't want to talk right now, but I wanted to make sure you were alright." His expression was uncharacteristically soft as he looked at you, and your heart clenched as you recognized the emotion- it was pity.

"You're right," you snapped, pushing yourself off the wall. You might not be able to fight, but you wouldn't cower, not any longer. "I don't want to talk. And I'm fine."

Azriel nodded his head once, his shadows moving frantically around him. "I'm sorry," he said, moving aside to give you access to the door. "I can take you home if you wish. Or I can escort you back to training."

You pondered for a moment, your eyes falling to Azriel's hands. They were at his sides, his fingers relaxed. You walked forward, not knowing what you were doing, as if you were being guided by some unseen force. You gently grasped his wrist with your scarred hand, pausing for a moment in case he wanted to pull away.

But Azriel didn't pull away. He let you raise his hand up, his skin visible to your eyes thanks to the light of the room. You had only seen his hands from a distance, but up close, you could see how bad they were. His skin was rippled and mangled, the scars rough against your fingers. His scars were like yours, perhaps even a little bit worse.

"How do you live with this?" you whispered, your voice breaking as more tears threatened to spill from your eyes. "How do you-" you broke off, unable to finish the sentence.

Azriel raised his free hand, wiping a tear off your cheek. He laid his palm flat against your skin, and you leaned into his touch. "I hate my scars, too," he whispered, his voice still soft. "I hate when people look at them, or when I have to touch someone. I wouldn't say I live with them. But I tolerate them because I have no choice."

You looked up at him through teary eyes. "What happened?"

Azriel's face hardened, his gaze going almost vacant. "My half-brothers thought it would be fun to see what would happen if you mix fire with the quick healing of Illyrians." He paused, his hazel eyes moving down to his hand that was being held by yours. "The warriors were too late to save me."

Your stomach rolled at the thought of Azriel being tortured like that. The fire must have been horrific if his healing gifts had been unable to get rid of them. "I am Beron's daughter," you said, pausing to let Azriel deal with his shock at the information. "He hates me. Blamed me for stealing something, so he taught me a lesson. Nobody came to save me."

Azriel's breath caught in his throat as your words sank in. The room was silent, weighed down by the shared pain between the two of you. His thumb traced the scars on your hand, the touch gentle, as if he was afraid of causing you more hurt.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I had no idea... I knew Beron was cruel, but..." He shook his head, as if words couldn't express the anger and sorrow he felt.

You glanced down at your joined hands, the sight of your scars intertwined with his bringing an odd sense of comfort. "It's in the past now," you murmured, though the words felt hollow. "But it doesn't make it any easier, does it? Knowing that we survived, but still carrying the reminders every day."

Azriel's grip tightened slightly, a silent affirmation that he understood. "No," he admitted softly, "it doesn't. The memories, the scars- they're always there. They never truly heal."

You looked up into his eyes, seeing the haunted depths that mirrored your own. “I used to think that I was alone in this,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “That no one could understand what it was like to carry this...this weight. But seeing your scars, hearing your story... I don’t feel so alone anymore.”

Azriel’s gaze softened, a warmth spreading through the cold that had settled in the room. “You’re not alone,” he assured you, his voice steady. “Not anymore. We’ve both been through hell, and we’re still here. Maybe that means something.”

Despite yourself, you let out a low chuckle. "Maybe it does." You dared to raise his hand to your lips, where you gently pressed a kiss onto his skin. "I don't need the gloves anymore, do I?"

He sucked in a sharp breath as your lips lingered upon his hand. "No. Don't be afraid to show off your hands."

You smiled up at him as you felt a warmth spread through your chest- a warmth that you had never before felt. "Only if you stop being afraid to show off yours." You had seen how Azriel would hide his hands at times, obviously just as insecure as you about his scars.

Azriel chuckled and pressed a kiss to your forehead. "It's a deal."

And as you stood there, hand in hand with Azriel, the silence that followed wasn't filled with pain or fear, but with the quiet understanding that neither of you would ever have to face your demons alone again.

general tag list: @quiet-loser @andreperez11 @lilah-asteria

@anarchiii @inkedinshadows @panther-girl-124

@scorpioriesling

[myeagleexpert]

Yan!Batfamily x Singer!YN (neglected)

Inspired by @@gotham-daydreams's fic, your work is wonderful and makes me think about many things…. One of the things I think about is if they found Reader from her music…. Reader here is heavily inspired by Naomi Jon, she is an independent singer from Germany, she regularly makes videos on youtube about makeup, shopping on websites, tiktok foods, things like that. She is a very fun person to watch and I highly recommend you watch it, all her videos are in English. (one detail is that she doesn’t talk much about her family, and lives with her friend Vincent and boyyy every time I read about Reader from Not [ ] fics I remember her. If you disagree, that’s okay, I still like the idea of ​​YN’s glow up <3) “Have you seen, come and read my diary Then you will see, that you don’t mean shit to me” – MANTRA- Naomi Jon

I imagine that while shopping at a store, Steph liked the store’s playlist and went to look for who was singing it.

Imagine her face when she finds out that the person she was listening to… was the YN everyone was looking for. She immediately discovers her YouTube channel, social media… and everyone immediately starts binge-watching and stalking all of her videos

Dick would be the type of person who would learn the choreography for your music videos, just to dance with you. He swears he can be the fun older brother you need, he can be in your videos too! And cook! I don't think he wears makeup, but he would watch all your makeup videos because he likes your reviews, and when you make a joke or mix up the language in the video he finds it so funny that he can't help but laugh. He wants to test out the latest skincare products with you and wants to travel together! You look so different now, with bold eyeliner and colorful hair, Dick wonders if you've always been like this and he was just blind because he didn't see it. Come on, he didn't know you had this fun and easygoing side, let's spend more time together, okay?

“This dress deserves… THE BUSINESS WALK!”

Jason sees how you've grown, and how much better you are away from Gotham. Like a flower that blooms only when it's in a clean and suitable environment, you've brilliantly transformed into who you are. But a part of him, the biggest part, thinks you'd be much safer around your family, where they can protect you. You sing and post so many videos on the internet, what if someone comes after you? Let your brother stay close, okay? And who is this friend who lives with you anyway? He is not trustworthy - no. It doesn't matter if you've known him since you were kids and have lived together for a long time. Another thing I bet he would do is join you on the days when you dye your hair in the craziest ways possible, he has some experience with dye, you know?

“C’mon FriendReader, this is the plan for this hair dyeing technique. Yes, all seven colors are here!”

For those who neglected Reader and pretended you didn't exist, he is your #01 Fan now. Tim definitely listens to ALL your music, and is 100% connected to your social networks. He watches and rewatches all your videos, they are so interactive and relaxed that he has the illusion that he is living it all with you. He's the type of person who eats while watching your videos, and watches them before bed, and when he's having a particularly stressful situation he'll lock himself in his room and watch one of your vlogs, because your voice has such a calming effect of normality that for him, it's like at any moment you'll open his door asking to try a 2-ingredient recipe you saw on TikTok.

“Timothyyy~ try this recipe I saw on tik tok!”

Damian is an interesting case… because he discovered that his precious blood brother has a side to him that he never saw. When he walked into your room and looked at all your memories, all your pictures of your achievements, all your music sketches he KNEW you were talented, but when he saw you in action in your videos and shows it was like a cartoon character came to life. YOU came to life! Definitely buy all your merch, and talk about you all the time to John. Do you still have two cats?? Enough, the kidnapping is you and them two.

“My next show will be…”

Bruce goes back and rereads your journal drafts and realizes how much your music has really changed, your focus now being only on your fans and not your family. Like everyone else in the family, he watches your videos daily and keeps thinking “I could give her a bigger box of surprises so she can record a video” “Did she think that dress was pretty? I could buy her a better one, shinier and pinker, just like she wanted.” When you post a video of the backstage of a show and all your lively preparations, he can’t help but feel guilty for the thousandth time that day. He should be by your side right now, a father should be behind the scenes giving you comfort and strength to go on the show. He should be in the front row cheering when you realized your dream of going on stage for the first time. The whole family should… You’re trying so hard, your dedication is palpable in your videos and shows. The little girl grew up and became a dreamy woman, but who do you run to when you need to cry? Let him be your comforting shoulder now, let him come into your life again.

“I made this song especially for you, my fans!”

When Alfred put that video of YN’s childhood on TV, where she performed in a school play, to remind everyone of her absence, he couldn’t be more proud of his work when weeks later he hears her voice coming from one of the boys’ rooms. It's you singing one of the songs, the batboy repeating it for the tenth time. Your voice has changed, from a childish and angelic voice to a woman's, your looks have gradually gained confidence and personality, but your “presence” in the mansion is ghostly. He feels so happy for you, you are externalizing to the world what he has always seen: that you are incredible. Alfred doesn't need to marathon your videos to feel closer to you, he already has affectionate memories, he already has albums from when you were a baby and tested recipes with him, he already has videos of you training to sing when you were little… But he still watches your videos because unfortunately, even with him you lost contact. He watches the videos like a grandfather watches his grandson's stories “Oh? Are you in Tokyo now? How wonderful, dear, remember the coat.” “Oh dear YN, I don't think this recipe will be good for you…” “Yn, be careful with the scams on these strange websites!”

“Guys, I know what you’re thinking… BUT maybe combining onion and chocolate CAN work.”

[thelostconsultant]

Stay with me

pairing: Max Verstappen x shifter!reader

summary: The end of your agreement is getting closer, but Max doesn't want you to leave. You have your doubts about a relationship with him, so you want to go.

part two

There was a knock on your door, but not a single cell in your body wished to open it. You had been in your room for most part of the day, focusing on work instead of the quiet drama in this household, and so far it helped to avert your thoughts. Despite asking several times, you still didn't know why Max had been so grumpy lately.

He didn't even want you to sleep next to him, and sometimes he closed his door as a sign that you should keep out. So you locked yourself into your room and became a workaholic again, spending hours and hours doing the job you once loved so much. Because ever since you moved in, work became a nuisance, something you were expected to do.

He knocked again, and this time he didn't stay quiet. “I need to talk to you, could you come out?” he asked, his voice sounding strange. Sad, or maybe disappointed.

With a sigh, you went out to meet him in the awkward silence that settled between you the moment you stopped in front of him. He took a deep breath to prepare himself, then reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb absentmindedly drawing gentle circles.

“What will happen after the race?”

“I guess I'll move back home,” you replied quietly.

Max nodded as he nervously licked his lips. “And what if you didn't? Why don't you stay with me?” His voice was dripping with desperation, and his eyes were silently pleading to make you change your mind.

It was heartbreaking, partly because you hated seeing him like this, and partly because at the bottom of your heart you didn't want to leave him alone. But having no idea which you was the one he liked more made things complicated.

When he realized you weren't about to answer, he leaned closer to you, his gaze so intense you were afraid it would burn a hole in your head. “I love you. I need our evenings on the couch when you fall asleep next to me, and I need you there in my bed to sleep well. Stay with me and give me a chance to prove we would be good together. Please.”

You had to remind yourself that it's impossible to fully get to know someone after just a few weeks. Yes, you liked the version of him you spent time with, but it was just the two of you here. You didn't go out together, you didn't meet his friends, he stayed with you ninety percent of the time, and so you had no idea what you would have to face in the long run.

Your train of thought was interrupted when you felt his hand move to the back of your neck so he could pull you closer for a kiss, and when you automatically returned it, he pushed your back against the wall to trap you there. He was seemingly hell-bent on making you weak in the knees, even managing to get a lustful moan out of you when his fingers tightened around you throat a little.

Why did he have to make things hard for you? Why couldn't he let it go and look for someone else? Someone who would be more comfortable with the idea of living under a microscope thanks to him.

When he finally pulled away a little, you flashed a sad smile at him. “One last weekend, Max. That's all I can offer,” you told him. Did it hurt to say this? Sure. But you didn't want the changes in your life that he would bring around. You wanted to remain a normal girl, you wanted to be known for what you achieved, not for being the girlfriend of one of the best drivers of your time.

For long seconds he watched you in silence, but eventually he nodded and let go of you. “If you don't want to come with me, it’s okay. You can go home anytime,” he told you before heading to his room, leaving you there to think about whether or not it was a good idea.

You had known he was attracted to you since day one, after all he told you he wanted to kiss you back then. But you wanted to stay true to the agreement that brought you here, you didn't want complications, so you kept a certain distance as long as you could. He made it hard, but you managed quite well. Or so you thought.

Going with him after this conversation would have been awkward, you knew that. The only thing you could do now was packing your things and leaving as soon as you could, hoping he would be over you soon. He deserved to be happy, but he should be happy with someone else.

You: I guess you need some alone time so I don't want to bother you. But I'm leaving. Thanks for everything, and good luck for the weekend.

You put down your phone and went back to closing your suitcase, not expecting a response to your message. But then, a mere half a minute later, there was an unmistakable beep that filled the room.

Max: I'm not okay with you leaving and not coming with me after all, but fine, I'll respect your decision. I hope one day you'll tell me why you can't love me.

Did he really believe you couldn't love him? You decided to keep a distance, but it didn't mean you hadn't fallen in love with him along the way. With a groan, you left your suitcase behind and moved over to his room, knocking on the door and waiting for his response with your heart pounding fast in your chest. You heard his invitation, so you went inside and climbed into his bed without saying a word.

Max looked surprised, but he didn't say a word, only watched you patiently, waiting to see what your plan was. And you didn't stop, you climbed on top of him and leaned down to cup his face. “Don't you ever think that I can't love you. I do,” you told him softly before giving him a quick peck on the lips.

“Then why are you leaving?” he asked you hoarsely.

“Being with you would draw attention to me too every time people saw us together. I'm not ready for that,” you explained sadly as you began to place kisses along his jawline. If you were about to part, at least you could make your last evening together memorable.

Max captured your lips as his hands began to explore your body, and he apparently decided to take the lead from you when he flipped you around so he would be on top now. You expected him to say something, but the most you got was a deep growl when he slid his hand under your panties and felt how wet you were for him already.

Sex was great, but there was a chance of staying for good if you spent too much time in his arms, this is why you slowly peeled him off yourself and tried to get out of bed to collect your clothes. But he didn't let you, he just pulled you closer if that was even possible.

“You know I'd tell people who come after you to fuck off, right? I wouldn't let anyone make you sad,” he told you.

“I know.”

“Then stay. I'll protect you.”

You turned around to face him and he took this chance to kiss you again, making you giggle like some idiot. It was so tempting to agree, to stay here with him and enjoy the way he spoiled you with his attention. You let out a sigh as you watched him, your eyes exploring his face as if you were trying to memorize every little detail before leaving. Maybe that's what was happening. Maybe your brain had subconsciously already made this decision for you.

Max probably knew what you were thinking about, and his next words confirmed your suspicion. “We could have so many more nights like this. Just you and me, in the safety of our home. And you wouldn't have to come to every race weekend, only a few important ones if you felt like it,” he tried to convince you.

After a few seconds of silence, you reached for his hand to lace your fingers. “This is your home race this weekend. Must be important,” you began slowly, earning a nod from him, which was soon followed by a boyish smile. “If I receive one hateful comment, I'm out.”

“Noted,” Max said with a laugh before pulling you on top of him. You kissed him again, fingers tangled in his hair as you finally began to let yourself go. “I love you, kitten.”

You smiled at him as you rested your forehead against his, eyes locked the whole time. “I love you too, you maniac.”

[sunsetsimon]

i love your stuff about big eater simon with a reader who doesn't eat a lot, but i was wondering if you could do something with a reader whose appetite is as big as his?

☼ quality time is simon’s main love language, and eating is one of his favorite things to do, so being able to have you keep up with him in terms of appetite? he’s even more in love than he already was before.

it’s no surprise that a man his size with his lifestyle has to eat a lot to maintain himself, but i think people underestimate how much simon can really eat.

he’s not big on eating out, so most meals he’s making himself unless you offer to cook instead. a normal breakfast for him would consist of 5 or 6 eggs scrambled (or over-easy depending on his mood), at least 4 links of sausage, a side of potatoes, and some mixed veggies. sometimes he’ll even have baked beans and toast as well before topping it off with a homemade protein shake.

your grocery bill is hundreds because of how much the two of you eat, which he pays for of course, but he tries to be really good about using all the ingredients you already have at home to not be wasteful.

☼ so when big si is scarfing down his breakfast, his heart just swells seeing you keeping up with him. it’s a bonding experience for him to sit next to you while eating meals, talking about your day or watching a show in between each bite. your plate isn’t as big as his of course, but watching you eat a bigger amount of food makes him feel whole. simon just wants you to be happy and healthy, and knowing you’re eating well just marks those things off of his list.

plus he has so much fun cooking with you! he isn’t the best chef and only has a few things he knows how to make, but being led in the kitchen by you is so hot to him. he's a man who can take orders, but fuck they're so much better when they come from you.

☼ he eats pretty healthily for the most part, but he loves snacking. you can't be sitting on the couch for more than 10 minutes before he's standing up, "do you want some donuts, love?"

"simon we just ate dinner 20 minutes ago."

"okay... so is that a no?"

"hmm.. no, give me a few."

he chuckles as he already knew your answer, grabbing his favorite snack of white powdered donuts and cold milk to share with you. the entire bag ends up gone in that one sitting, and he just complains about how it's not his fault because they're so small! even though he purposely grabs the mini's every time, saying it'll make him eat less - yeah right.

☼ it's a breath of fresh air for him to be with someone who doesn't judge him on his consumption, he's just a big hungry man. although he has normal confidence and understands he has to eat a lot to maintain his shape, it can make anyone feel a bit insecure hearing comments of "wow you're eating all of that?!" si loves to indulge on anything food related, so the second you mention wanting something he's ready to go get it!

☼ also, he totally studies the menu before he goes anywhere new. opening the safari app on his phone, there's at least 1 menu to a restaurant in his tabs at all times. while trying to choose where to go for your dinner date, he's searching every restaurant, naming dishes off the menu he thinks you'd like. the choice is always yours though! he just wants to eat with you :)

[stxrvel]

the one where i said fuck you and you cried (3)

series summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life? pairing. eventually ot7 x f!reader. content. first of all, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! a lot of curse words, a lot of self-deprecation and low self esteem. no proofread. this is nawt silly writing, we're diving right into the aNgSt. jumpscare? iykyk a/n. hi guys! this was a rollercoaster for me to write, but i hope it doesn't come as harsh as i think it is. pls let me know what you think in the comments!! see you next week!!

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You had gone through a scenario like that in your head several times. A variety of moments, conversations and looks that always ended in the same unpleasant, inevitable and demoralizing way: you were forgotten by the people you loved most in the world. Only when you reached 18 would you realize how heartbreaking the dull thud of the silence of indifference was, how sharp and icy the loneliness was, how it penetrated and paralyzed your bones; but at that time, at 16, you could still convince yourself that all those things were only in your head and would always be there.

“Now that you're the last to go, you guys are much more likely to forget about me.”

“Of course not! In fact, as soon as I start earning money I'll save up to take you with us.”

Jungkook shook his head, his narrowed eyes judging you as if having insecurities was a sin. You believed his words at that moment, because being the last one still with you, 'cause you were going to graduate from school in the same year, it was the only thing you could do. Hold on to the idea that you really weren't going to be forgotten, because the mere conception of a future without your best friends was inconceivable.

“Jimin-hyung said he was going to try to call more often,” your friend went on, his eyes fixed on the bass on his lap and his important task of leaving it neat before returning it to its holy post in the school's music room. “I haven't talked to them in about three days.”

Jimin and Taehyung had left just a couple of months ago, but thanks to the opportunities opened to them with their incredible willingness, discipline and some string twitching on Namjoon's part, they had managed to get into a great academy to train and fulfill their dreams.

That also brought with it, as irreversible side effects, that your communication with them was drastically reduced. You had to constantly remind yourself and Jungkook that it was out of their control. With their future at stake, there was something for which they had to exert extreme effort and for which to sacrifice some other things.

“It's normal that they don't have as much time as they used to, Kookie.” You lowered your head, noticing the way his hands delicately handled the instrument on his legs. Since Jimin and Taehyung had left there was no time of day when you could tear yourself away from Jungkook, which is why you accompanied him to his extracurricular music lessons when you really should have been studying for the college entrance exam. “Life after school gets really hectic.”

“I've heard that college life is quieter.” Jungkook twisted his lips, wiping between the strings and his fingerprints left on the bass every time he moved it back and forth to clean it. It was an almost irresistible cycle.

“The only one at college right now is Seokjin and even about him we haven't heard much.” You leaned back against the piano, noticing Jungkook's movements pause for a moment as he surely reminisced about the few times he had been able to talk to Jin that month.

It had been two years since Seokjin had graduated and traveled all the way to the capital to study medicine. Needless to say, it was more than clear that communication with Jin would be almost nil from then on, but Jungkook always used to pout about it.

“It's just that Jin-hyung also chose a rather demanding career.” Jungkook twisted his lips, as if suppressing Jin in his head, waving the microfiber towel over the edges of the bass.

“And the others are trying too hard to carve their way through. It can be as complicated as going out to look for a job right after graduating.”

Jungkook nodded, admiring his cleaning job with a frown. He looked so focused that it caught you by surprise when he spoke again.

“You already know if you're going to college, noona? We're graduating this year.”

You blinked once, twice, three times. His nonchalant self went back to waving the towel over nonexistent smudges as you breathed in and decided not to go that route. “Will you?”

Jungkook raised his head, pausing his movements for a moment to try to analyze your gaze. With a sigh, he let out your poorly disguised way of shifting the focus of the conversation to get up and hang the instrument, glowing, on the wall of the music room.

“I don't know yet… Namjoon-hyung says he can help me.”

“Isn't it your dream, why do you doubt it?”

“I'm not sure, noona. What if I don't measure up? What if I fail?”

When your friend turned away, the mirror to his soul showed his vulnerability dancing on the edge of his eyelids. His distrust constricted your heart, a hand closing around your throat at the inner conflicts you knew Jungkook used to have and in the face of which you often couldn't do anything about because he didn't usually share such things.

“Then you try again.”

“Noona…” Jungkook wanted to grumble, it was obvious from the way his eyes moved to the ceiling, his head cocking as if he was about to give you a big life lesson on why you can't survive on motivational phrases.

But Jungkook was a softie about such things, even if he tried to hide it.

“Jungkook, you are literally a golden promise. No process is ever easy, especially in the industry you want to get into, but don't think for a second that you're going to outgrow it. You're one of the most capable people I've ever met.”

Your friend stopped his steps, when after hanging up the bass he was returning to your post in front of you, raising his head as if caught committing a prank. But the vulnerability in his eyes remained, and by the way they shone in the dim light of the room, still blinking to try to contain the emotion, you knew your words had tugged at just that thorn in his heart you were trying to pull out.

“Thank you, noona.”

“I'm just telling the truth.” You lifted a shoulder, shaking your head nonchalantly like it was no big deal, and Jungkook just let out an amused chuckle.

“You do know we'd never forget about you, right? How could we?”

-

“How could we?”

Yuna shook her head, frowning at her phone, oblivious to the way you cringed at her choice of words.

“She's bringing celebrities into the store and she want us to leave? Don't we work so well that we always take the top employee of the month spot even though it should only be held by one person? Don't we deserve that gift?”

You watched her, marveling at how after just a few seconds so many emotions could build up into an overwhelming knot in your chest. The old notes of an old piano played in the back of your head, bringing to the surface memories of when life was easier; when you thought you had it all and nothing would ever be better than that; when you thought you were enough.

“So what do you plan to do about it?” you blinked, focusing on the notation of bills in your notebook with an invisible hand squeezing your heart.

There was no use thinking about such things after so long.

Yuna pursed her lips, her expression serious and forceful. “I think we should have a sit-in.”

“We should? That sounds like more than one person.”

“Do you disagree with me?”

“I'm happy with going home early, especially on a Friday, you know?”

“y/n,” Yuna came up to your face over the cash register display case, her forearms resting on the glass and her eyes so bright with determination you were sure her head could light the whole store on fire the way she was scheming and scheming, running around like her life depended on it, “we could be close to meeting the seven gods of Olympus, and you think the best thing to do is go home?”

“Just in case you forgot, I have a business to run now.” You reminded her, moving to poke her with your middle finger all over her forehead and push her away from the cash register now that a new customer had come in.

“What business should a business matter when you could meet the reason for existence itself?”

Yuna dropped onto the display case, her body sliding like jelly until only her head was left on the glass. You and the new customer watched her, her arms limp at her sides and her gaze lost. A lone tear running down the bridge of her nose.

“God, you're so dramatic.”

“Does that mean yes?” Her head snapped up like a spring, a big smile scaring the soul out of the customer who ducked behind your friend to run for their order.

“No and stop acting like that, you're going to scare away customers.”

Yuna whined, her exaggerated tantrum leading you to wiggle your feet all the way to the cellar.

“I'm offering you the holy grail, and this is how you pay me?”

The sound of her feet shuffling behind you kept your head sane. Even though his insinuations were baseless, your heart was pounding so hard you felt your ribs throbbing through your muscles and skin.

Your boss had written to Yuna that you two could leave the store early today because she had a private meeting to attend. She asked them to leave everything to Patrick, including clearing the store of customers and not to worry about paying for the shift, because there would be no discount at the end of the month. Yuna was faithfully and blindly convinced that your boss really wanted you to stay, because she spent almost ten minutes with her eyes glued to the screen almost without blinking, watching the 'typing…' appear and disappear under your boss's contact name. 'I'm sure she's debating how much confidence she has in us…', she said as her red eyes missed no detail of that important chat and that primordial moment, ending in an offended 'none!' when her last message came through.

In the same way, Yuna convinced herself that the meeting that would take place in the same place where your feet were planted was going to be attended by the seven entertainment kings of the country. The unmentionables, for all practical purposes. Where had she come to that conclusion? There was no foundation. Had your boss given any hints? None. Yuna had her head in the clouds believing she could meet her idols if she insisted a little longer.

“Would you really prefer to stand your friend up to meet seven men you don't even know for sure will show up here?”

“Well…if you put it that way it sounds like I'm doing something wrong.”

“Mmm, you just figured that out?”

Yuna dropped her shoulders as you took off your apron. Her tactics weren't going to work and it was time to give up. She half-heartedly opened her locker and stood looking at you with puppy dog eyes. You felt as guilty as if you had stepped on her tail by accident.

“Look, if I'm being honest, I doubt gigantically that Sol will tell you that you can stay if you ask her.”

“Not even for everything we've been through together?”

“She's still our boss, Yuna.”

Your friend mimicked your actions with a slower speed, her emotion draining away little by little. When her head cocked to the side, halfway through taking off her apron, you only sighed.

“The worst that can happen is I get fired, right?”

You weren't surprised that she was nevertheless willing to cross that line.

“That doesn't sound like much to you?”

“I can always write her a 'ha, ha, just joking' afterwards and get out of harm's way.”

You didn't contain the irresistible urge to roll your eyes and Yuna took that as her own signal or green light. Next thing you knew she was pulling out her phone and typing animatedly on the screen.

“I really don't think you should do that.”

“I have to try! Can I call myself a good fan if I don't do even the impossible?”

“You don't even know if they'll come.”

“I have a hunch.”

With her hand over her heart, Yuna sent the message and you feared for her life. While Sol was not at all close to the idea and conceptualization of a crazy and ruthlessly demanding boss, she did draw the line at several specific situations that they had both learned to respect. One of those was, of course, private meetings at her place. You and Yuna had set up the place countless times for Sol to sit quietly and chat with her most famous acquaintances, because her office was too formal to deal with them there, but her own home was extremely informal for the same purpose. The cafeteria served as a middle ground, the perfect place to be comfortable when talking business.

“Patrick is coming.” Yuna spoke again and by the way her eyes didn't leave the screen you could tell Sol hadn't responded yet.

“I wish you the best of luck, Yuna.”

“Thank you! Coming from you it's a blessing, indeed.”

“And why's that?”

You finally stood up, closing your locker with your strap bag over your right shoulder. You were ready to leave while your friend was still biting her index fingernail waiting for an almost impossible and inconceivable message from her boss.

“What else can I expect from the writer who blew up overnight and is soon going to be one of the New York Times bestsellers and famous worldwide?”

“Ah,” you turned your head, unable to contain inwardly the way a warmth settled in your chest; you still had a hard time accepting how things had turned out, but as long as you couldn't control the influx of orders that had to take a back seat, “smooth.”

Yuna smiled and when her eyes met yours you swore she was about to tell you one more time how proud she was of you, but her phone vibrated in her hands and the last thing you saw her eyes widen exaggeratedly before her scream shook the foundations of the store and almost the entire city.

“SHE SAID YES!!!!”

-

Arriving home unleashed immeasurable chaos.

As soon as you opened the front door, a river of books fell like dominoes, with your father's groans and your mother's screams in the background, the sound of your work echoing in your head like lightning as stomping echoed through the house.

“Seojun, I told you to be careful walking…!”The angry expression on your mother's face disappeared the moment she recognized your face, her features softening as she knew it was her daughter. “Honey. What are you doing here so early?”

“Is that y/n?” your dad's exclamation rang out from the kitchen.

“Yes!” your mom yelled back.

The welcome was nice, but things only got more and more tedious from then on. On the one hand, you had your father telling you about accounts, numbers and multiplications of how much you had to take out of your pocket to pay for the prints, how much you would make if you sold all the books you had printed and how much you would get back, and on the other hand you had your mother telling you about the countless publishers who had written to your dm's seeking to sponsor the sale of your books, taking advantage of the boom that had been generated by the phenomenon that was Kim Taehyung.

Seojun, who had decided to move back home for the weekend to help with whatever was needed, was telling you that they had had to hire five different deliverymen -three of them trucks- to be able to deliver as many orders a day as possible, while vehemently hitting your father's forearm to remind him to include that in the accounts.

Your father was in charge of everything related to money, your mother of the direct communication with customers and Seojun of the orders; everything was done by them, with Yuna's help when she was not working, with the excuse that after so many years you just had to sit down and enjoy the fruit of your sowing without any worries.

But at that moment, when they had just let go and thrown all their worries at your feet, they stared at you expectantly.

"We need a loan."

Your mother jumped in her chair. "That's what I said!"

"That's not necessary." Your father shook his head, as he surely would have done when your mother suggested the idea judging by the expression that had planted itself on her face. "Take a loan from my wallet, but don't do business with those bankers. They'll gouge your eyes out with interest."

"Or take a publisher's offer. They'll take care of all this." Seojun pointed out, his long black hair brushing his eyebrows even though he shook it nonchalantly so he could get a good look at the three of them.

"Publishers can be freeloaders too." Your mother counter-argued, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Oh, yeah? How many publishers have you signed on with to assert that?"

"Wow, careful with that tone, Mr. Lawyer." Your father pointed at your brother, while your mother only raised an eyebrow at him in response. Seojun sank into the chair, barely dragging an apology through his teeth.

"It's not a bad idea either, Dad."

His brown eyes returned to meet your gaze and you noticed the hesitation in them.

"Well, ultimately, it's your decision, honey."

Your mother squeezed your shoulder.

"I say we should listen to the lawyer."

"Hey!" Seojun frowned, straightening up on the chair. "Don't put such a big responsibility on me!"

Your father snorted. "But then weren't you comfortable a while ago giving orders and saying that I don't know what thing you had already seen it in class and that's why you knew what we had to do?"

"Dad…" Seojun elongated.

"Are you ready for such a position or not, Seojun? Tell me to start looking for another lawyer."

Your mother barely contained her laughter, only because of the offended sideways glance her own son sent her way. Laughter blossomed in your chest, too, like a big breath of fresh air in a field of flowers. You didn't know you needed that moment so badly until the tension disappeared from your shoulders as you laughed with your parents and your brother grumbled with his arms crossed.

-

A new batch of orders just went out - thank you so much for your purchases!

You looked at the story your mom had uploaded to Instagram in the solitude of your bedroom. The rest of the day was spent strategizing and planning marketing ideas that would likely lead you to ruin. In a defeated silence, you admitted that Yuna was really needed.

You had texted your friend a while ago, as the sunset was beginning to paint the sky with colors, but she still hadn't even checked her phone. Her last connection was a few minutes after you left at noon. You decided not to insist, even though you were a little curious about who had finally shown up at the store.

The best thing about that busy rest of the afternoon was that you'd been able to keep yourself busy enough to completely ignore the way you'd been whipped up by a few memories that morning in Yuna's company. A simple question had caused all that. And of course, with a heart as weak as a chick's and willpower almost non-existent, you let yourself be pulled right in that moment of loneliness into the well of memories.

“Jungkookie?”

Your voice pierced the silence and a shiver ran through your body as the darkness greeted you back. A few minutes passed after you plunged into the completely darkened room, walking tentatively and slowly inside, you heard a movement just outside the door you had just entered.

“Noona…”

You couldn't see him, but you didn't need to. The sobs that filled the room were enough to be able to guide you through that darkness, as indistinguishable as coal, and wrap your arms around his hunched figure on the floor beside the door.

The house was alone and as dark as that room the last night Jungkook would be there. Passing through the empty corridors of his house was a torment, but you could only imagine how your friend would feel in his place, unable to stop time as it slipped through his fingers.

Several times he had already told you that he didn't want to leave. You didn't think he meant it.

“They're waiting for you downstairs.”

“I know. I don't want to go, noona.” Jungkook moved his arms to wrap around your waist in a desperate grip, his erratic breathing against your neck breaking your heart. “I want to stay. It doesn't matter if I never become an idol. That's not important.”

“Jungkook…”

“I don't want to leave you…”

His halting voice was barely understandable, trying to be muffled by the jacket you were wearing that night when you went to see him off and didn't find him in the car with his parents. The heater seemed not to be a worthy opponent for that cold night.

“Jungkook, you're not going to leave me. We'll keep in touch. Why do you worry so much?”

“I don't want to be like them,” his pained voice pierced your chest; the movement of his body from the way the sobs were attacking him was almost uncontainable. “I don't want this distance.”

“Change is always hard, Jungkookie, but I promise you we'll be in touch always. I'll do my best to make it so.”

“Really?”

“Of course. I'll even come visit you as soon as I can.”

“No. I said I was going to pay for your trip.”

“See? You're not going to leave me.”

“Still I'm scared, noona. What if I'm not enough for them? What if I can't raise enough for you to come live with us?”

“You are enough, Jungkook. From the tips of your fingers to the tips of your hair, there's nothing about you that won't allow you to achieve your dreams, understand? You are destined to be a star. I know it's hard to leave behind everything you know in life, but believe me it will all be worth it. You will come out on top and you will succeed.”

“Noona…” Jungkook cried again, burying his face in your neck once more, clinging to you like the anchor that carried him to the surface of the ocean; the ocean shaped by his own tears. “I… don't… want… to… go…”

The hiccups that attacked him from his intense crying made it difficult for him to speak and you hadn't felt such pain even when the other boys left. There were tears shared, promises whispered and hugs that lasted longer than they should have, but no one had clung to your body as if they feared you were going to disappear at any moment and wanted to seize every second before the impending end.

“It's okay, Jungkookie,” you ran your hands up and down his back trying to calm his crying, trying to control your own as treacherous tears rolled down your cheeks with the darkness as your witness. “We'll meet again. You can wait for me. Then we can melt into another embrace and say how much we miss each other.”

Your phone vibrated on the bed, the notification startling you with its aggressiveness. Another vibration followed that one and then another. Turning on the screen, you found that half an hour had passed since you'd last seen the clock, and in passing you came across Yuna's name on the caller ID. You sighed, remembering the effusiveness with which she said goodbye in the afternoon and mentally preparing yourself for what was to come.

"Hey," you greeted, mildly surprised that her exclamations hadn't reached your ear first to interrupt your greeting.

"y/n, how were sales today?" her calm voice filled your hearing and a slight wrinkle implanted itself between your brows.

"Mmm, it was all good. We have several domiciliary and the prints are coming out with the deadlines arranged. With Seojun we considered that maybe taking on a publisher wouldn't be so bad, but I'm not sure yet."

You narrowed your eyes at the ceiling, shallowly biting your nails, waiting for the moment when Yuna would burst out, but it didn't come.

"Oh, yeah. We'll have to consider that. I'll go early tomorrow morning to seize the day." Yuna answered quietly, with the faint sound of things stirring in the background of the call. Surely she had just arrived at her apartment.

"Yuna?"

"Mhm?"

"How was the afternoon?"

"Oh, it was normal, really," she replied, her voice flat, as if the thought had barely crossed her mind since the moment she'd left the coffee shop. "I didn't see anyone memorable."

"Ah, so your knights in shining armor didn't attend?"

"Sadly, no." Yuna sighed, her unchanging attitude finding a little more sense in your head. She sounded more tired than anything.

You talked a bit more with Yuna before she excused herself to go about her evening routine and finally get some rest, specifically stressing to you how boring the whole afternoon had been and how every second she only thought about going home. You also told her a bit more about the ideas you and your father had half-heartedly spun as marketing strategies, but very earnestly your friend asked you not to do anything until she was there.

When her name disappeared from your caller ID, an Instagram notification popped up at the top of your home screen. The vibration felt like the pounding of a sledgehammer against wood, your sentence handed down with no chance of appeal, the blood in your veins freezing and an endless emptiness in the pit of your stomach.

jeonjungkook97 just followed you!

It was followed by the notification of a message from Yuna.

Unnie | 19:01 holy shit. jungkook just followed you on ig, right?

No fucking way. Another fucking account to block.

-

It wasn't like you couldn't deal with them. You had been doing it for about ten years. But now they just seemed to want to throw themselves in front of your face one by one and you weren't strong enough to handle that. Maybe your resolve needed to be more forceful; maybe you should be sure you hated them instead of feeling like your body was shaking and you could melt like jelly in the sun every time you felt they were one step closer to you. For a while, that was all you wanted; to find them; to be found. But now…?

The weekend was spent in a hodgepodge of managing your book sales and the seesaw of emotions you had in the face of the estranged but impactful actions of your old friends. You tried not to think about it too much; you really tried, but it was very difficult. It was easier to let the memories wash over you instead of diligently packing up the books on which you had squandered your blood and tears.

Your books, yes, that was the most important thing.

From the posts and hashtags, even though it had only been a couple of days, you could see that some people -those who had actually read the books- were already posting their opinions and reviews and you knew you had had plenty of time to prepare for that moment, but you really weren't ready to face it. You didn't know what it was; whether it was the pollen, the aligned planets, PMS, mercury retrograde… but all of those things were weighing you down too much recently and you weren't ready to hear the opinions.

And you couldn't help but keep asking yourself why? Having spent so much time, between so many experiences and so many personal changes, why now they decided that they would come back into your life? How dare they after ruining your life by completely abandoning you? Many times you wondered what was missing in you; what was never enough for them… sometimes you believed that this was how it was meant to be; just the seven of them, before you came along. It was always them seven first, then you.

Between lows and highs, between sadness and joy, you still had to keep working.

"Get rid of that face if you're not going to tell me what's wrong with you." Yuna crossed the cafeteria in front of you, picking up some glasses and plates on the table as lunchtime approached.

"I don't have any face."

"You've been in a somber mood since Saturday. You look dead."

You clicked your tongue, taking advantage of the fact that the store was nearly empty to do the math. "Don't be over the top."

"I'm just being honest and genuinely concerned about my friend, can you blame me?" Yuna reached the sink and simply left the dishes there to approach the cash register. Your eyes refused to meet hers, unsheathing a strange annoyance in the pit of your stomach.

"I'm fine," you moved the money automatically, doing the math in the back of your head as second nature, "don't worry so much."

"Ok, if you don't want to tell me about it at least try to distract yourself a little, why don't you take an extra half hour for lunch?"

"You know I can't do that."

"Sol would never know."

"I'm not going to do that."

Yuna pouted, dropping her chin onto the back of her hand. You knew she was about to fly you out of that chair the moment all the bills were safeguarded.

A whiplash of pain shot through your chest at the alternative of having to leave the cafeteria, alone, hovering with your thoughts once again, as you tried to shove the food down your throat. But Yuna happily dragged you out of the cafeteria, leaving you in the middle of the street with your little bag and lunch money, wishing you a happy break as she wandered off once more to deal with the sparse crowd of customers alone.

Maybe you should have told her you'd rather not eat than be alone, but…

That was the story of your life.

So you walked to that restaurant a couple of blocks away, where they sold the cheapest food in the area, and waited patiently while answering Yuna's messages to clear your mind.

Going through your social networks, you once again came across the cover of your books in the pre-viewing of a video and felt the bile in your throat. Let's see, you were happy. Or well, you were trying to convince yourself because you still had that bitter feeling in the pit of your stomach that wouldn't let you enjoy this blast like you should and it had a first and last name of its own. But, generally speaking, it was great that your books were selling, forgetting all the other circumstances that led to that happening.

So, standing in front of those videos, you were tormented by not being able to watch them. A self-published author should be prepared for that kind of thing. No, any author should be. Sharing your art with the world implicitly entailed confronting the world's expression in front of it. It was inevitable, of course, and it was also the energy that could start an engine or the fingers that put out the match. At that precise moment, you still didn't want to know what your destiny was.

You hated that. You hated feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders. Why was life so heavy if you had just begun to live it?

Ah, too much pondering for one lunch.

And to think this all started with an Instagram story.

Having an existential crisis because you couldn't stand dealing with the stress and pressure of the extreme demand you were having and because of mixed feelings for a bunch of idiots resurfacing after so many years was one of the last things you thought you'd have to go through that year. Fuck, or ever in your entire life.

Taehyung might have done you a favor as well as a disservice.

But that's how you spent a while longer, as you walked back to the coffee shop, the noise of the city not being enough to quell the bustle of thoughts crashing against each other in your head.

Being in the eye of the hurricane, however, didn't mean you were safe. You barely had a breath of fresh air before the eyewall hit you hard once again.

"Noona…?"

You froze a few steps away from the cafeteria. You feared not only the way you immediately recognized the voice, but the way your body froze, fear, panic and uncertainty clouding your sense.

You were in the alley behind the coffee shop. You didn't usually go in that way, but you had taken a slightly longer way back, only because you were too busy thinking about whether or not your body was up to a longer walk.

You were so close to the door that you could almost hear Yuna's voice on the other side, barely muffled by the beeping that echoed in your ears as panic took over your body.

You didn't want to turn around. Your body was having every possible negative reaction, as if it was fighting an infection, the lunch you had just shoved down your throat seeking to make its way back into your mouth and the feeling of dizziness momentarily clouded you.

Was this how you planned to react if you ever saw them again? Was this how you acted out the scenarios you imagined in your head at night when your memories went back to the last time you saw them?

The only difference between those imaginings and what was happening at that moment was that before you could prepare yourself; you knew what was coming; you had control. Now? Your legs were about to give out, the weight of your body too much to bear.

And you wanted to mock the pathetic behavior you were engaging in. You should turn around, slap him and scream at him that you never wanted to see him again. But your heart was beating and feeling and… how could you deny it anything after so many years of being neglected?

But maybe you were imagining it. The little sleep you had this weekend and all the memories you dragged from the trunk since you saw that Instagram notification must have made you crazy enough that you heard voices, his voice, anywhere… you were still near a busy street, it could be anyone-

"y/n."

And, yet…

You didn't turn around knowing what it would entail to give his voice a face, even though you could madly and frankly recall every line of its length, and you spoke harshly through your teeth even though your labored breathing made your chest heave.

"What are you doing here?"

"Noona… you're really here."

You cringed as you heard his footsteps and clutched with inhuman speed at the lock on the door in front of you.

"I asked you a fucking question: what the fuck do you think you're doing here?"

The silence didn't give you an answer, but you could glimpse it. With your patience on edge and years of emotional repression it was impossible for you to deduce how you would react in such a case, but it didn't seem too far-fetched, even if Jungkook's surprised inspiration said he didn't expect you to be so harsh and rude.

As if you cared.

—Yes you did care, in fact, that's why your heart was beating wildly against your ribs, the choking sensation increasing, the nerves on edge and the tears all over the corners of your eyes, but you had to stand your ground. After so, so long… why, why, why, why?—

"I… I…" Jungkook seemed to be having trouble finding his voice, even though in his profession the words came melodiously and easily out of his mouth. If you turned to look at him, you might have noticed that his face went from happiness to anguish with the speed a bullet goes through a field, "I wanted to see you…"

He sounded so small. The five-foot-ten-plus man, who you're sure was almost a head and a half taller than you, might as well have been a badly wounded puppy behind you. You knew from the way he spoke that he was holding back tears, but you didn't let that sway you. He didn't deserve it.

"Who gave you the right to come here?"

You didn't let him answer, not knowing if he was even going to, tightening the lock on the door you were about to walk through at any moment, bile in your throat making you fear the fall as if you were at the top of a skyscraper.

"How the fuck did you even find me?"

"Well, I-"

"I don't fucking want to know!"

You cut him off, the dryness and venom in your voice making you tremble. You were so sad, so distraught and so angry at the same time.

"And I don't want to see you. So leave."

"Noona…"

"Fucking leave, Jeon, for fuck's sake!"

You moved, almost as if by inertia, opening the door and slamming it behind you, the noise so deafening that it echoed in your ears for several seconds until you heard Yuna's footsteps approaching you and felt her arms wrap around your body.

You didn't know what she was saying, you just leaned against the door and let yourself fall, your body shaking in cry after uncontrollable cry, truly wondering how everything had gone so far; wondering how, after so many years, you still allowed them to have that power over you; a power they didn't deserve and shouldn't have.

You felt shattered in that moment, every piece of you scattered in the hold, every moment of your life replaying on its glassy, sharp edges. Even with half of you staying afloat, Yuna held you until the tears stopped flowing and with renewed resolve you promised yourself that this was never going to happen again.

Jungkook had taken you by surprise, but from now on none of them would ever catch you off guard.

-

a/n: i dont really know what to think about this chap. sometimes i like it sometimes i dont. i guess thats just how it works. pls letme know what you think! thank u for all the support! <3

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