#if you can read music then i'm sure you can tell me what the notes are!!!!

[starrysmiling]

ephemer's song

(read right to left)

i blacked out and when i woke up i had a(n albeit roughly drawn) comic

original (jp) version underneath!

[honeyhotteoks]

an innocent man doesn't stand a chance (j.yh)

summary: it's halloween and your boyfriend has a fantasy. he wants to be the masked killer and for you to be the final girl, and he wants you to run.

note: this was written in a feverish haze of ghostface yunho brainrot, you can thank this fanart and this edit for making this one about yunho, but i have to give all credit for the idea to the nsfw audio creator augustinthewinter who's masked hookup audio killed me. also please read the warnings, this one is potentially very triggering.

warnings: ghostface!yunho x final girl!reader, boyfriend!yunho, hard dom!yunho, girlfriend!reader, sub!reader, sadism, masochism, knife play, primal play/chasing, threats of violence, heavy cnc that really looks like noncon because part of the play is that he wants her to struggle and say no BUT there are consent checks explicit throughout, rough sex, fingering, gloves, masks, breath play, impact play, mirrors, finger sucking don't look at me, dry humping, clothed sex, ripping off clothes, size kink, ass play, lots and lots of degredation including use of sl*t/wh*re/fvcktoy/c*cksleeve, yunho is seriously mean in this i'm not kidding, fear, forced orgasm, orgasm denial, creampie, subspace, there's more i'm sure but this one is a doozy. also lots and lots of aftercare!! after a scene like this i had to write detailed aftercare and confirmation of limits, so that's there too! yunho is v sweet when not in the zone.

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: smut and more smut, no plot in sight

word count: 7.9k

The party is in full swing when you arrive. The house bumping with music and every corner decorated for Halloween. You’re late enough that you can just slip in through the back door, and that was the plan from the start. Yunho arrived first, nearly two hours ago, and made excuses for why you were late, for how you might not even make it to the party. No one would see either of you come or go together, so when you both disappeared to play your game no one would ever know. You had come up with the plan in bed, whispered fantasies and what-ifs between the sheets as he rewarded your willingness to try something new with his tongue. 

His fantasy is special, and to do it right you can really only do it on Halloween night. 

You weave through a throng of drunk acquaintances, searching the crowd for him, but it’s not as easy to find him as you thought it would be. You’re not sure how a six foot something Ghostface killer could hide from you in the crowd of your friend’s house party, but no matter how many rooms you check you can’t see him. Nervousness pits inside you as you check your phone and see nothing. He could be caught up with friends, he could be changing his mind, but you can’t tell if you can’t find him. 

Adjusting your very 90s costume, you dart away from the kitchen where a group of your girlfriends are pouring shots and weave your way into the back of the house. Maybe you can call him? Text him? Would that completely ruin the mood of psycho killer stalking? Maybe, but it’s been forty-five minutes and you haven’t so much as seen a sliver of his mask. 

You flick through your phone, checking for any new messages, and then scroll to find Yunho’s contact card in your phone. Your finger hovers over the call button as you lean against the quiet hallway wall, and then in your peripheral vision you see it. 

A dart of black, something looming, and when you finally turn your head, you see him. Ghostface, standing wide and imposing in the hall, blocking any way past him and back out into the party. 

“Spooky,” You sigh, tucking your phone away. 

Silently, Ghostface nods his head. 

The hair on the back of your arms stands up. This is it. 

“What? Are you looking for the bathroom or something?” You take a step or two towards him, leaning into the character you dressed for. 

He shakes his head. 

“Looking for me?” You bite the inside of your lip to keep from smiling. 

Slowly, he nods. 

“Mm,” You raise a brow at him, “what’s the line from that movie? You wanna play psycho killer?” 

His head tilts slightly to the side and he nods once again. 

“And who do I play?” 

He takes a step towards you and you fade back. 

Fear starts to spread through you, even with it all being pretend, you can’t fight the feeling that your subconscious drums up in your gut. 

He takes another step, and then another, and then you’re running. 

Spinning on your heel you push deeper into the house, away from the party and towards a line of doors down the hall. Your heart is pounding out of your chest, your stomach a bundle of nervous trembling knots, and your hands are so slick with sweat you can barely grab the door handle of the basement. It’s not as easy to run as it looks in the movies, especially not in a tight skirt and penny loafers, and you skid down the basement stairs taking them two at a time until you slip forwards and crash down onto your hands and knees. 

You don’t have time to assess the sudden sharp pain as the skin of your palm drags over the concrete floor though, so you scramble up in a flash and in a panic you weave your way deeper into the basement. 

It’s familiar enough to you, your best friend’s parent’s place. You know there’s a tiny half bathroom in the far back corner, a rarely used guest bed against one wall as you descend the stairs, a collection of old video games and movies, and then around the corner to the left more and more basement, more storage, more dusty nooks and crannies to hide. You’re frozen for a split second, trying to decide the best place to go where he won’t find you, but heavy footfalls on the stairs ring in your ears like drum beats and you don’t have time to weigh your options. 

You take off towards the bathroom, fumbling with the door again when you reach it. 

The masked man behind you doesn’t say anything, but you hear him moving. His feet are sure and quick, the heavy fabric of his robes making a whooshing sound as he darts forwards to try and close the space between your bodies. 

A panicked sound leaves your mouth as you tumble into the sink, clocking your hip hard on the porcelain and bracing yourself on the wall. Turning you reach back for the door, if you just get it latched maybe you can give yourself a second to think, to shimmy out of the very small, high set window. Pushing yourself into action you grab the door, he’s so close you can hear his breath, seconds away. Seconds away. 

The door stops abruptly as you throw your body against it, six inches from closing. You push again, but it doesn’t budge, and when you look down it’s clear you’ve lost this game. His heavy black boot is firmly set in the door’s path, and you know there’s no chance for escape. 

He crowds you instantly, leaving you no time to recover, his body pushing into the cramped space of the bathroom and flinging the door backwards into the adjacent wall. You stumble into the sink and he moves right up against you, the firm length of his body pinning yours in place. 

For a moment everything is still, completely and shudderingly still with only the sound of your hitched breathing and thundering heart filling the room. You’re not sure what you should do - beg? Plead? Stay silent and let him do what he wants? 

The masked man’s head tilts to the side as if he’s observing you, something you can’t tell through the ghostly plastic of his mask and dead black eyes. You’re trembling for real, hands shaking as they grip the cool porcelain. Ghostface leans into you, one of his gloved hands reaching for your face, a soft brush against your chin at first that turns to pressure as his fingers slide up your jaw to push you face to the side. It’s like he’s studying you, his hand slipping lower and dragging down your throat. 

Your breath comes faster, stomach tight. 

Ghostface closes his hand around your throat and your eyes widen. He holds you like this for a moment, his other hand locking down over your waist and gripping you tight, pinning you in place. 

When he squeezes, panic bubbles through your body. 

Yunho’s never choked you before. He’s never even suggested it, despite all your little jokes about how nice his hands would look around your neck. It seemed pretty clear to you that within the bounds of your relationship that was one thing he just wasn’t interested in, but whoever has you in the bathroom knows exactly how to hold your throat and where to press. Part of the fun is not knowing who’s beneath the mask, but your body still locks up, and an anxious voice inside you starts to wonder - what if? It’s not as if Ghostface is that rare of a costume choice, you see dozens of them on the street every year. It’s not inconceivable to think that at this party there would be more than one. 

Your heart beats in fluttering fits and starts in your ribcage as your mind turns over this possibility, and then he squeezes. The fight comes back into you full force when you hear him sigh, his hand tightening even more and cutting off your airway. You wriggle in his arms, pushing against his chest and trying to use your hips for leverage, a startled whine ripping from your throat, but fear laces through your body as you shove against him and realize just how immovable he is. 

Ghostface releases your throat, the same gloved hand slipping into the back of your hair to hold you steady. 

“No!” The word tumbles out of your mouth as soon as you can properly make noise again. 

He crowds you more, masked face dipping by your ear, “Shh, shh,” 

You freeze. 

“Safe word?” Yunho’s voice is a balm in your moment of sudden panic, his tone low and hushed. 

“T-treasure,” You manage it, the realization coming back into your body that this isn’t a total and complete stranger, it’s still him. Your fear starts to melt into anticipation. 

He gives you a squeeze, just one gentle pulse with his hand on your hip to communicate that he’s heard you, “Color?” 

You take a second to assess yourself. This game is intense in a way that you’ve never experienced. Yunho had tried to tell you how your body might react to this kind of manufactured fear, how it would play tricks on you, how even if you knew it was him your body would still have the urge to fight and flee. You knew it, but you didn’t really understand it until this moment. 

Yunho’s gloved thumb drags lovingly over your cheek for just a moment, “Color?” 

If he has to ask you a third time he’ll end the scene, you know he will, but the brief flicker of tenderness in his touch reminds you of everything you already know about him. He has you. You’re safe. This is a game. 

“Green,” You finally answer, “I’m green,” 

One more quick pulse to your hip, he’s heard you again. More than that, he’s pleased with you. 

His shoulders straighten as he draws to his full height, his body filling the space of the tiny bathroom and caging you in. You swallow tightly, audible in your ears and then he moves fast. 

His hands around your waist, lifting you up and then shoving you back until you’re sitting on the lip of the porcelain sink, uncomfortably balanced and pushed back flush to the mirrored wall behind you. You yelp when he moves you, hands scrambling for purchase on something, gripping the sleeve of his black cape in desperation. Fear and anticipation pulse through you, but he doesn’t give you a rest to get your bearings. 

He shoves your legs open wide and slots between your thighs and shoves your face to the side until your cheek is squished against the cold mirror, his hand a controlling brace from your jaw to the crown of your head. 

“You look so pretty running from me,” He strokes your face, but this time it’s not loving, it's possessive, it’s pure control. 

You grip the edge of the sink and whimper. 

“Should we play a little game?” He teases, “It’s Halloween, you must like scary movies,” 

Your breath quickens, “Y-yeah,” 

He drops his voice low, in a mimic of the movie, “What’s your favorite scary movie?” 

You’ve heard Yunho do that voice before, lazing on the couch last October when you had yourselves a movie marathon, the day he realized something about your favorite scary movie that turned you on, the day you called him out for being hard during a kill scene. It took a year for you both to work up the courage to actually act on any of those fantasies, but here and now with his mask on and his voice low, you feel that mix of terror and arousal bleeding through your body in a way only he can elicit from you. 

You can’t help the little smile that passes over your lips, “Scream,” 

“Meta,” He teases, pinching you hard on the thigh,  “for every question you get wrong, I’m taking something off you,” 

You swallow hard again. 

He reaches into his black robes and then you see it, shining in the reflection of the mirror and in your hazy peripheral vision. The glint of a real knife is unmistakable, the cool sharp edge of the steel crystal clear and you can’t stop the actual fear that jolts through you. You jerk in his hold, instinct driving you for a split second, and he pushes your face harder into the mirror. 

“Tch,” He makes a disappointed noise with his tongue against his teeth, “the game’s no fun if you don’t play.” 

He won’t hurt you, at least not in ways you don’t already like. You have to trust that. 

Settling yourself with a slow breath you summon the act he wants, find the fear within yourself and let it inform your words to give him what he wants. 

“Please, don’t,” You’re trembling is real, that you know. 

He shifts between your legs, drawing the knife closer, shifting it in his hand so he simply presses the cool flat side of the blade against one of your nipples. You hiss at the sensation, tightness building in your gut. 

“First question,” He drags the knife a little over your nipple, “What movie franchise is Jason from?” 

It’s an actual quiz, of course it is. At least he’s starting off easy. 

“Friday the Thirteenth,” You reply fast. 

“Correct,” He lifts the knife, and with the blade pointed away from you, he pushes up your tight tshirt until it’s bunched above your breasts. 

“I got that right,” You glance down at the way he’s touching you, breaking his own rules already. 

“Just getting a better view,” He insists, and then the cool knife is against your nipple again, only the thin fabric of your bralette between skin and steel. 

Your body is aching in this position, but you can feel the heat off his body, and the heady tone of his voice from under the mask still has you starting to ache in different places. 

“Let’s make this a little harder,” He taps the knife against you and you shiver, “what movie has a group of teenagers being stalked on an island by a killer fisherman?” 

“It’s,” You start to answer but he taps the knife again and you jolt, “fuck, it’s I Know What You Did Last Summer,” 

You watched it with him two weeks ago. You remember it, clear as day. 

“Wrong,” The knife twists, the tip gently skating over the swell of your breast. 

“Wait,” You start but he tips the knife under the center of your bra. 

“I Still Know What You Did Last Summer,” He clarifies the sequel, “they weren’t on an island in the first movie. I thought you liked scary movies,” 

“I,” You press back into the wall as the knife edge kisses your skin, “I… I do,” 

“You’re not very good at this,” He twists the knife and drags the sharp edge out so that it severs your thin bra in half, falling open and revealing your breasts to his wandering eyes. 

A little gasping sound leaves your lips, a desperate noise you try to bite back, but he hears it. 

He hums a soft, amused laugh and suddenly the knife is gone, sheathed and away and he leans into your space again, “You fucking like this, don’t you?” 

“No,” You insist, despite the way your stomach is in tight knots. 

“Did running away get you hot?” His gloved hand skims over your exposed body, “Do psycho killers make you wet?” 

“Fuck,” You whine, “no, no,” 

“Liar,” He whispers, and then he delivers a pointed slap to your thigh, “spread.” 

Your legs widen instinctively at his command, but he doesn’t reward you or praise you like he normally would, this is different. He reaches under the hem of your taut mini skirt, finding the apex of your thighs, and his fingers gently rub up and down from the base of your slit to your clit. A tiny gasp bubbles out of your throat. 

“Are you afraid?” He all but growls. 

Your stomach flips and his hand tightens in your hair, “Y-yes,” 

“Tell me you don’t want this,” He finds the edge of your panties and drags them to one side. 

“I don’t want it,” You answer him, body shaking now. 

“Tell me to stop,” One gloved finger presses into your entrance, the softness of the leather and the warmth of his skin beneath it making you tremble. 

“Stop,” You beg, “please, please, stop,” 

“Why would I?” He slowly pushes inside, stretching you around his finger, “When I know how wet being fucked by a stranger in a mask makes you,” 

A tense thready sound pulls from your throat as he adds a second finger. 

“If you don’t want this,” He pulses his hand once, forcing both fingers deep into your slick channel, “why are you panting like a dog in heat?” 

“N-no,” 

“If you don’t want it,” He whispers, “don’t come.” 

Your eyes shut as his hand starts moving, a steady pulse of his gloved fingers inside your aching cunt, curled just right in the way he knows gets you off fast. A pumping drag against your g-spot, the sound of his heavy breath, the unmistakable sensation of your own wetness making a mess between  your thighs. 

“Looks like you want it to me,” He adds the circle of his thumb against your clit and you jerk in his hold. 

“Stop, fuck,” Your nails dig into his forearm. 

“You don’t want me touching you, but you’re soaking my fingers,” 

“N..No, no,” You babble, heat pooling in your gut. 

“Fight it,” He pumps his fingers faster, drumming against your sweet spot, “don’t come,” 

You hiss sharply, pleasure dropping low in your belly, the sensation of his gloves and his hot hand too much to bear. 

“Moaning like you want it,” He laughs, pulling his hand suddenly out from under your skirt and yanking your head back to center. 

You yelp at the position change and the sudden lack of contact but he doesn’t make you wait for long. 

“Open,” He smacks your cheek lightly. 

Your mouth falls open and he shoves both gloved fingers between your lips. You choke against the suddenness, at the way he presses down on your tongue, blinking to clear the haze from your eyes. 

“Suck.” 

You shiver, your lips closing over his digits, the sharp taste of leather mixed with your fluids assaulting your senses and you can’t fight the moan, the way your eyes drift shut as you swirl your tongue. 

He hums, pleased, “Does it hurt?” He asks. 

His question doesn’t make sense, and you blink your eyes back open to look up at the cool passiveness of his ghostly mask. 

“Pretending you’re not a whore?” He clarifies and your mouth stills over his fingers. He pulls them out, delivering one more pointed slap to your cheek, and dives back down to plunge them back into your aching cunt, “Moaning like that, your nipples rock hard, and this pussy,” 

You choke, a bubble building in your core as he abuses your slick channel again. 

“Clenching around my fingers, sucking me in,” He chuckles, “I can feel you, baby,” 

“Fuck, fuck,” 

“Hold back,” He doubles his efforts between your thighs and you keen, “if you don’t want it, tell me to stop, don’t come,” 

“Stop!” You whine, giving him exactly what he wants, “Please, please,” 

“No,” His thumb rubs fast, his hand practiced at making you fall apart at the seams, “you come, you keep your eyes open, and you come all over my fucking hand,” 

Your breath is fast, heart pounding, and you feel the cord tightening in your belly in a way that makes you want to rub yourself back up into his touch but he has you pinned, stuck, at his mercy just like he wants. 

“Come,” His voice is clear, authoritative, and familiar. Like a trained response, your body releases and cracks open into a desperate orgasm, crumbling in his hands as you pitch forward onto his shoulder and grind your hips down to take the last little bit of what you need from his fingers. 

When his hand stills, you realize you’re still clinging to him and you jerk back, one hand over your mouth as you try to recover your breath. 

He steps back, his hands sliding off you and body slotting out from your thighs. You can’t see Yunho beneath the mask, but you know he’s looking. You can feel his hot gaze sliding over your body and taking in every wet and shaking inch of you. Your body is throbbing with need, but the game isn’t done, he hasn’t even made you touch his cock yet, and you know there’s no way you’re making it out of this basement without that. 

“Tell me again how you don’t like it,” He finally says. 

You shiver. 

“Cat got your slutty little tongue?” He prompts you again, voice hardening. 

You swallow hard, finding your words, “I didn’t like it,” 

“Mhm,” 

“I d-don’t want you to touch me,” You lie. 

“Yeah?” He teases, “Well then run,” 

“W-what?” Your eyes flick up to the impassive plastic of his mask. 

“If you didn’t like it, why are you still sitting there?” He takes a step to the side, clearing your path to the door and you slide off the edge of the sink, your loafers making a click onto the tile floor. 

You swallow hard, eyes darting out to the rest of the basement. 

“Come on,” He teases, and you can hear the sick smile in his voice, “try to get away,” 

You look between him and the room ahead of you again.

He leans forward and you shiver, his gaunt stretched mouth at your ear again, “I can’t fuck you if I can’t catch you,” his gloved fingers yank your top down over your exposed breasts and he chuckles, “better run fast.” 

You spring forwards, adrenaline pumping through your body and blood rushing in your ears. Leaping out of the bathroom he gives you a couple steps to get a head start, but he’s so much bigger than you, his stride so much longer, and he closes the distance with ease as you scramble in mock terror to get to the steps. 

Yunho’s arms close around you, hauling you up off your feet and against his chest, his touch rough and probing as he drags you up into the air. 

“No!” You shriek, “Fuck!”

“You think I’d really let you go?” He laughs, “After that?” 

“Fuck you!” The words bubble up out of your mouth. 

“That’s the idea,” His hand slides down your belly, closing over your cunt and cupping you tightly. 

Your body is reacting before your mind, and you jerk in his hold, kicking back your leg and catching him in the shin with the flat heel of your shoe. 

He groans and wrenches you higher in the air, “Keep struggling,” he pants, “I like it,” 

You twist again, trying to free one of your arms, but he has them pinned tightly to your body, “Get the fuck off me!”

“Not a fucking chance,” He takes two wide steps to the mattress and then tosses you down. 

You collapse onto the bed, the old and rarely used springs creaking under your weight, and your scramble forwards in some kind of an attempt to get your bearings, but he’s on you just as fast. He yanks you back with a hand around your ankle and in a flash he’s on top of you. 

He presses one hand firmly between your shoulder blades, keeping you pinned face down to the bed, and then his body weight drops down as he straddles the backs of your thighs. Your hands curl into the bedding beneath you, rough sheets and scratchy camp blankets, nothing soft and soothing to take a moment of comfort in. 

His free hand wanders, searching your body slowly. The sound of the party raging upstairs drowns out any competing noise, but you can still hear his heavy breath against the mask and your pounding heart, the sound of anticipation thick in the air around you. 

Yunho presses his hips forwards and you feel the thick hard length of his cock through his costume nestled against your backside. 

“Look at you,” He palms your ass, “shaking for me,” 

A whimper leaves you as his fingers dig into your back. 

“Do I scare you, baby?” He delivers a harsh slap to the back of your thighs and you yelp, “Are you fucking terrified?” 

Another slap leaves you trembling and you hide your face in the mattress, pressing your eyes shut tight. You love when he touches you like this and he knows it. You bite down hard on your lip to keep from whining, wetness pooling in your core. He wanted you scared, he wanted you fighting, you can’t give in just because his glove on your stinging skin feels like sin. 

He groans, his cock pressing down harder to your ass and you feel both his hands slide from your hips up to your back and back down again until he has a grip on your waist. 

A whimper slips out from between your lips.  

Yunho freezes above you, his thumbs massaging a quick circle into your lower back, “Color?” 

“Green!” Your voice is muffled by the bedding but you know he heard it. 

He groans, pulsing his hips to rut his cock against you again. 

Even between layers of fabric, you can feel the heat of him, throbbing and ready for you. Your mouth waters as you picture it, cockhead leaking precum and Yunho’s familiar hand wrapped around the base as he directs it to your mouth. 

“Little slut,” He chuckles and it pulls you straight out of your mental fantasy, “rubbing that ass on a stranger’s cock,” 

Your stomach clenches, and you twitch under him. 

“That’s fucked up,” He drops his body weight over you, one hand pushing your head to the side as he leans over you, “you’re so fucked up, aren’t you?” 

Your breathing is fast, a thready sound in your throat. 

“Aren’t you?” His voice is low, a shade away from a growl, and he rocks his hips again to rub his cock against you. 

“N-no,” You try to shake your head but his hand tightens against your scalp. 

“Liar,” He keeps grinding against you, his free hand snaking underneath your bodies to grope your breast, “I know a needy whore when I see one,” 

You moan into the sheets as he tweaks your nipple, tears springing to your eyes as he palms you, taking you apart with every touch. 

“Let’s see how you like this,” He pinches your nipple once more and you squeal at the sharp sensation that rockets through your chest, a sharp line down to your clit, and then he slides back and shuffles back to sit up over your thighs. 

He pushes the stiff fabric of your mini skirt up over your ass and then you feel the cold metal again. 

You jerk underneath him, and he tuts softly, the sharp edge of the weapon gently dragging over the curve of your ass cheek. 

“Tell me,” He grips your flesh tightly with one hand, painfully pinching, “do you still like scary movies now that you’re in one?” 

You shake your head, a whimper on your lips when the knife slips under the edge of your panties, “P-please, don’t,” 

He yanks the knife up and splits one side of your panties with a taut snap of fabric, “Please?” He taunts, “Please?”

You sob softly in response. 

“Is ‘please’ all you can say?” He delivers a sharp smack to your exposed ass check and you jerk under him. 

“I can’t,” You shake your head into the sheets, “I can’t,” 

He sighs, and you feel the knife shred the other side of your underwear and then you hear the sound of the blade clattering to the floor. With both hands free he palms your exposed flesh, squeezing you almost painfully and inspecting your exposed body. 

Shivers run through you, and you try to hold yourself still for his touches. 

“Which hole should I fuck first, hmm?” His fingers search you, probe you. 

Your body locks up tightly, a gasp on your lips. You hadn’t discussed that, and you shake your head. 

“Scared?” He ghosts his fingers over your rim. 

“Please,” It’s all you can manage. 

“Beg me,” He presses down with his thumb, “beg me not to fuck your ass if you’re so scared.” 

You scramble in the sheets but he has you stuck, “Please don’t, don’t fuck me like t-that, you’re too big, it’s too,” 

He massages one cheek and hums, “What should I do then?” 

“What?” You crane to look back at him, at the masked man pinning you down. 

“Beg,” He says it like he’s bored, like it’s obvious, “beg me to put it somewhere else, or I will fuck this pretty ass open and make you say thank you.” 

Heat floods your belly, your body a sizzling live wire, and you fall right into step with a heady whine, “Please, fuck my pussy,” 

“Again,” 

“Fuck my pussy, please, I’m begging you,” Your voice sounds needy and strange even to your own ears, “I need it inside me, g-give it to me please, fuck my pussy, please,” 

“Better,” His hands disappear into his robed costume and then he pushes forwards, his cock finally free and sliding up and down your slit to find your aching entrance. 

“Y-yes,” You drop your head back down to the bed and in one sharp thrust, he pushes his thick length all the way inside you until his hips are flush with your ass. 

Yunho groans, bracing himself with one hand on the back of your neck and the other on the bed beside you, the mattress creaking with every shift, “Needy pussy,” 

“Fuck,” You moan. 

“Greedy,” He punctuates his words with a sharp thrust, starting to pick up the pace now in earnest, “gripping my fucking cock like that,” 

All you can do is hold on, bite down on the sheets and let him use you, focus on the sensation of his impossibly hard cock driving in and out and in and out. 

“Are you crying for me? Hmm?” He rolls his hips, the fabric of his costume dragging against you as he fucks into you faster. 

Your eyes are wet, pleasured tears bubbling up and you nod, a tiny sob passing through your lips. 

“Good cocksleeve,” He presses down harder with his hand on your neck, forcing you lower into the mattress. 

Your back arches instinctively, and you whine at the angle change. A few more thrusts and you’ll be done for, you know it. 

“That’s it,” He pants, voice muffled by the mask, “come for me,” 

“C-close,” The words tumble out. 

“Come for me,” He stays steady with his thrusts, pushing your orgasm closer and closer, “come for me, come for me,” 

“Ah!” You fist the sheets, legs starting to shake, “Ah, fuck, fuck!”

“Come on this stranger’s fucking cock,” He grunts, shuddering above you, his fingers digging into your skin and no doubt leaving a bouquet of bruises behind. 

So close to the edge, just a little more will tip you over, and you whine, “Harder,” 

He gasps, forcing his pace to clap harder, deeper, and it only takes two pointed thrusts of his cock into the deepest parts of you to send you careening over the edge. 

“Coming,” You twist beneath him, moaning into your fist, “oh, god,” 

“Fuck,” He curses as your muscles clench and flutter around him, “fuck, oh fuck,” 

Your orgasm has your body locked up and shuddering, but when he pulls free suddenly you gasp into the bedding, “N-no, no, please,” 

He yanks off any scrap of clothing you have on with frantic hands and then rolls you in the sheets so that you’re lying on your back spread open for him. You try to form a sentence, to ask what’s happening but suddenly he’s tearing off his mask and the world slows to a stop. 

Yunho’s sweaty, flushed pink in the cheeks eyes blown wide with need, his plush lips parted and his chest heaving with labored breaths. In a flash he’s stripping off the costume, peeling off his gloves and kicking off his boots. 

“Come here,” He spreads your thighs wider and presses down over you, his cock finding your entrance with ease as he sheaths himself again in one thrust. 

You moan sharply and wrap your arms around his shoulders as he collapses over you. 

“Need you,” He pumps his hips, “have to have you,” 

Pleasure crackles up your body, “Yours,” you nod, “I’m yours,” 

He presses his mouth to yours, kissing you hot and hard, “Fuck,” he groans. 

Yunho gathers you closer, your slick bodies now flush together as he rocks into the warm cradle of your hips, “never heard you moan like that,” 

Your walls clench around him. 

“You wanted me to do this,” He groans between messy kisses, “you wanted to run,” 

You nod, lips pressed together. 

“You’re so fucking perfect,” He pumps into you harder, like he’s desperate to get as deep as possible, “my dirty girl,” 

“Oh, fuck,” Your head falls back against the bed, a pleasured moan caught in your throat. 

“My little fucking slut,” He groans, tipping your hips open wider, his hands tight on your skin, “so desperate to come on stranger cock,” 

You whine sharply, nails digging into his back. 

“Say it,” He threads a hand through your hair and tugs your head back up roughly, “say it,” 

“Yes!” You whine, “Yes, I-I need it,” 

His gaze darkens, the cool mask of your dominant returning, and he slaps your cheek sharply, just enough to give you a pointed sting, “Need what?” 

Your brain is soft, fuzzy with pleasure, but the slap focuses you and you blink, “Need to come,” you pant as he thrusts into you, “on a stranger’s cock, need you to… fuck, need you to take it,” 

He nods, lips parting open in pleasure, “That’s right,” 

Your stomach tightens, pressure dropping low in your belly and you can’t stop feeling the way his cock punches into the deepest parts of you over and over again. Your eyes close tight and you hold onto him, one of your hands slipping up to his neck to tangle into his black hair. 

“Oh,” You’re so close, almost there, “Y-Yunho, oh, god,” 

His hips thrust forward once more, burying his cock impossibly deep and then he stops. That’s when you realize your critical mistake. 

“Is my cock so good you forgot your manners?” He says and your eyes fly open. 

You don’t know what to say, you don’t know how to recover, your head is too mixed up to know what’s up and what’s down and you’ve never played a scene where he’s a stranger before. You’re used to your rules, you’re used to calling him sir or daddy or master, but now you feel unmoored. 

“Now you don’t get to come,” He leans back, taking your wrists in his hands and pushing them down flat to the bed. 

You know better than to protest, but you’re sure he can feel you shaking. 

He drops closer, pinning you open with the weight of his body, his head nudging yours to the side, “Maybe you’ve forgotten who’s in control here, baby,” 

Liquid heat spreads through your body and you shake your head just a little. 

“So drunk on cock,” He bites at your ear, “you forgot you don’t want this,” 

Your pussy tightens, and you hear him chuckle. 

“Filthy,” He maneuvers your arms above your head so that he can close both your wrists together in one of his large hands, “fucked up little fucktoy,” 

Your eyes roll back and you fight the urge to move your hips, his words enough to put you on the precipice. 

A sharp slap stings over your exposed breast, your nipple hardening even more and Yunho draws his hips back before slamming forwards, driving you deeper into the squeaking mattress. At the painful stretch, the sharp sting inside, you do cry out. 

“Does it hurt?” He thrusts again, just as hard. 

You struggle under him, a little for play and a little because it does hurt, but you love the way he groans when you please him and you can’t stop, “Y-yes,” 

“Too bad,” His hand claps over your mouth and then he starts to fuck you again for real. 

Pleasure and pain in equal parts spike through your body, a perfect combination to get you right up to the edge of orgasm, but you know you’re not allowed. You moan into his hot hand, the sound feral and taut, tears gathering in your eyes and slipping down your temples into your hairline. 

Yunho slides the hand on your wrists up to clasp your hands together palm to palm, still pinning you to the bed but offering you a line of communication you desperately need in a scene like this. He doesn’t stop, but his eyes find yours in the dim light of the basement and he squeezes your hand once. You squeeze back just once, your silent sign to keep going. 

He keeps driving into you, cursing every time you moan and clench around his thick length, the mask of dominance slipping again as he starts to rut into you with artless, needy thrusts. He’s chasing his own pleasure now, with no regard for your own release. 

“No one’s coming to help you,” He groans, “you’re mine,”

 You can’t hear everything he says, not with your mind spinning so close to a forbidden orgasm and his pants and groans punctuating every few words, but you hear it when he says he’s coming inside you. 

Thrusting deep, he spills himself hot in your belly, hips grinding into yours to milk himself dry as he moans into your ear. The bubble of your own pleasure builds with every rock of his body and you whimper into his hand, tears spilling over as you try not to let it take you. 

Yunho’s hand pulls away from your mouth and suddenly his fingers are rubbing fast and firm on your swollen clit, his cock still buried deep. 

“Ah, n-no, please,” You grip his hand tightly and lock your eyes closed, trying to pull yourself back from the edge, “please,” 

“Fuck,” He groans, overstimulated. 

You’re going to come, there’s no way to hold back if he’s going to torture you like this and you thrash under him, “I can’t,” you’re sobbing in earnest now, “I can’t hold it,” 

“Shit,” He curses sharply, “come, sweetheart, come, I’m so sorry,” 

At his permission, your pleasure rips through you, a hot slice of rapture rocketing up your body. Your ears are ringing, black dots over your vision, and your body wrenches up with tight shakes in a way that only a soul shattering orgasm could do. You vaguely hear your own voice, a babbled string of ‘thank-yous’ and sobs, but it feels like someone else. All you know is warmth, and the deliciousness of earned pleasure. 

When consciousness starts to creep back in, the first thing you feel is Yunho’s gentle hands on your cheeks. He’s murmuring something, but it takes your mind a second to process, and you blink your eyes open slowly to find his face. 

“Hey,” He’s back to soft and warm, your tender lover, “oh, there you are,” 

“Mm,” You manage. 

He looks you over slowly, warm brown eyes flicking over your skin, “Does anything hurt, sweetheart?” 

You shake your head, still boneless and trembling in the scratchy blankets. 

“Hmm?” He nudges you, pushing for a verbal response. 

“I’m okay,” You respond, but your voice is small. 

Yunho, so attuned to you, looks back up and shifts up the bed to meet your eyes, “Feeling floaty?” 

“Mm,” You nod, recognizing distantly that the intensity of your play tonight pushed you right into subspace. 

“Ah,” He smiles warmly, “come here,” 

He gathers you close, arms wrapping around you as he tucks you into his chest and pulls the plaid camp blanket up higher over both of your naked bodies. His skin feels so essential, a necessity like eating or breathing, and you nuzzle into his warm chest. 

“You’re okay,” He soothes you, stroking your back, “you’re safe, you’re safe with me,” 

A heavy breath releases from your chest. 

“That’s it,” He kisses your forehead, “breathe with me, relax with me,” 

Your muscles release one by one. 

“That was just a fantasy,” He soothes you, easing the knotted up feelings in your body with practiced words, “it was just pretend,” 

You nod. 

“Just pretend,” He murmurs, lips tender against your forehead, “none of that was real, nothing I said. I love you, and I will always keep you safe, sweetheart,” 

Your fingers relax, and you realize how firmly you were gripping his arms. 

“There you go,” He murmurs, “I’ve got you,” 

“Yunho?” You manage, your body feeling heavy once again as you start to center. 

He shifts, cupping your cheek as he leans back to get a good look at you, “Right here,” 

“H-hey,” You give him a lazy smile. 

He nods, brushing your cheek with his thumb, “Tell me where you are?” 

“Basement at the party,” You answer. 

“Good,” He nods, “now tell me who you’re with?” 

“You, Yunho,” You reply, practiced now at the routine he uses to help ground you out of the scene and bring you back into reality. 

“Good,” He continues, “tell me three things you can see,” 

You glance around the room, “Old playstation, bicycle,” you look back to him, “your necklace,” 

He smiles as you touch the silver chain around his neck, “Good,” 

You stretch your stiff limbs in his arms and try to snuggle back into his hold but he’s not done yet, especially after a scene that new and that intense. 

“Any pain?” His hands slide over your body. 

“No,” You assure him, “a little sore, but I feel good,” 

He nods, but keeps looking you over anyway. When he turns your hands in his and finds your scratched palms a little line forms between his brows, “What’s this?” 

You look down at the red skin, a few shallow cuts here and there, “I fell,” 

“Fell?” His brow goes high with alarm, “when?” 

“When I was running, I took the stairs too fast,” You tell him honestly, “but it doesn’t hurt, I promise,” 

His fingers trace over the broken skin and he nods, “You promised you’d call the scene if you got hurt,” 

For how rough this man can be with you, for how many times he’s bruised you and made you bleed, he never fails to surprise you at just how tender and soft he is outside of the bedroom. 

“Baby,” You close your fingers over his, “you promised you’d trust me to know my own limits, I’m not hurt, I got a little scrape,” 

His lips close as he considers your words and then he nods, leaning in to kiss each of your palms warmly, “I want to disinfect these at home,” 

“Okay,” You murmur. 

“Anywhere else?” 

“Mm-mm,” You shake your head. 

“But sore?” He confirms.

“A bit,” 

His fingers find your jaw, massaging the muscle there, “When we get home, we’ll run a warm bath. I’ll take care of all your aches, I know I was rough with you,” 

You sigh pleasantly, relaxing into the warmth of his hand and he nods, dipping his face towards yours and capturing your mouth in a soft kiss. 

“You did so perfect for me, sweetheart,” he says softly, voice threaded with emotion, “I’m so… is it too lame to say honored? I… you were so amazing, and you trusted me like that and I,” 

“Yunho,” You smooth back his hair and pull him closer, “I’m alright,” 

His eyes flick over your face, “Yeah?” 

“Yes,” You give him the clarity he needs to know he didn’t hurt you, “you made me feel very safe, even though I was kind of terrified,” 

He stays quiet, like he’s gauging the honesty of your words. 

“Even when I was scared,” You lean in, kissing him quickly, “I knew you wouldn’t take it too far, and you checked in with me. I’m okay, I liked it, I love you,” 

“You didn’t push yourself too hard for me?” He always worries about that, the double edged sword of a submissive who’s desperate to please. 

“No,” You smooth your hand over his cheek, “I liked it alot,”

He nods and snuggles you closer, his fingertips coasting up and down your back softly. He’s quiet for a few minutes, just letting you both come down as easy as you can with thrumming house music upstairs. 

“You liked it?” He finally confirms, carding his fingers through your hair. 

You nod, “A lot,” 

“What I said,” He kisses the top of your head, “during, about you liking it, that was fantasy too, you know that right?” 

You’re quiet, taking in his words. 

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” He continues softly, “there’s nothing wrong with you for wanting it, all of that was pretend, okay?” 

“I know,” You kiss his chest, nodding against his shoulder. 

“I love you,” He squeezes you, “you know that too, right?” 

You smile, wiggling up in his arms to see his face, “I do,” you kiss him softly, “I love you too,” 

He nods and sighs, “I lost my head a little at the end there,” he admits, “I didn’t communicate well when you needed it, I’m sorry about that.” 

Your brows knit together in confusion. 

“I should have given you permission sooner,” He explains, brushing your cheek with his thumb, “I forgot myself in the scene, I didn’t mean to push you so hard.” 

“Oh,” You smile, “Yunho, I’m alright,” 

“I know you are,” He dips in for a kiss, “but I’m still sorry,” 

“Thank you,” You murmur, pressing your lips back to his, staying warm and still and soft in this moment together, “I know you’ll always take care of me,” 

He nods, his broad hand brushing down your hair. 

“How was the party?” You nudge him a little. 

He smiles, “Fine,” he shrugs, “I was too focused on looking for you, I think everyone thinks something’s up with me.” 

“I’m sure it’s fine,” You laugh. 

“Mm,” He nods, “and now I disappeared and we made a mess of this basement,” 

“Fuck, I can’t believe you cut my underwear off, how am I supposed to get out of here,” 

“I brought backups,” He grins wide, proud of himself for thinking that far ahead. 

“You’re a genius,” 

“There is a back door out of the basement though, right?” He looks up around the room trying to find one. 

“Yeah,” You reach out, pointing around the back corner, “why?” 

“It’s extremely obvious that you’ve been fucked within an inch of your life,” He presses a quick kiss on your forehead and stretches next to you, so casual about the way he just rearranged your insides, “and I’m not so sure you’re going to walk straight,”

You laugh sharply and shake your head, “Take me home,” 

“Scary movies on the couch?” He squeezes your thigh as he rolls away, searching for his clothes. 

You shiver, “Maybe, that might be too close to home,” 

Nudging your knee he smiles, “Don’t worry, baby, it’s just a movie.”

[narumisassdealer]

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇: Nagi Seishiro, Eita Otoya, Rin Itoshi 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 3k 𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈: Accidental confessions - I love you. 𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: fem!reader, fluff, comedy, pet names used, could be a little angsty at times but nothing over the top but figured I should mention it.

--- Authors note: I may have gotten carried away with these. But I hope you enjoy them nonetheless. It was not proof read either so if there's any mistakes apologies ♡

Eita Otoya ✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Eita nearly always wore his headphones to drown out the city sounds that never seemed to stop. He was sure he would have hearing loss by his 30’s if he kept listening to it as loud as he did. But it was the only thing that would drown out the beeping cars and someone yelling at someone for bumping into them. Eita loved his music more than anything yet somehow almost every single song he would play somehow reminded him of you. He wanted to rip his hair out, he wondered if you ever got so fucking tired from running around his head. Eita was sure, you did this purely to torture him.

“Eita.. Hey look at me yeah?” You spoke, voice sounding like an angel. Loud in his ears as if the people in the movie you guys were watching were just speaking in whispers. Eyes setting on your face, seeing your kind ones looking back at him with such a gentle gaze. He's never felt this way before. Sure he's been around a few times but nothing has compared to the butterflies twirling around in his gut begging for him to say how he truly felt. 

Things were casual, having met in a music store and going out on a couple ‘dates’. Eita saw them as dates, never knowing if you did. The two of you never discussed what either of you wanted. Eita didn't even know how you felt about him, let alone if you were even interested in him, more than just being friends anyways. Yet here he was, his hands clammy, feeling a lump in his throat and he felt faint. Eita tried to tell himself he was just being dramatic. That the worst you can say is no.

Eitas hands reached out to yours as he looked down at you as he blinked “Yeah? Sorry. What were you saying?” He said, as if he wasn't fully distracted by his own thoughts as they were seemingly in overdrive. As if his heart wasn't currently pounding in his ears, nearly drowning out you entirely. “I asked if you were okay, you don't seem well.. Do you wanna take a raincheck and come back tomorrow? I promi-” You were cut off by Eita sighing, not that he was irritated, he was, but with himself. “No.. no that's not it. I swear. I do have something I need to tell you though” He trailed off as he took a deep breath. “I have feelings for you. I could go as far as saying that my feelings are so strong one could possibly call it love. I've never felt this way about anyone before, and I'm not sure what to do about that.” 

You let out a laugh, Eitas veins running cold, not that it lasted long as he felt your hands wrapping around his waist, nuzzling your face against his chest. “Silly boy, ya know for someone who was a playboy, youre really bad at reading women” You teased as even you felt warm, weeks of courting Eita turned into this? One would say you were the winner here. 

Relief floods his pretty green eyes as he chuckles a bit, wrapping his hands around your waist resting his face in the crook of your neck. He felt so light, as if a ton of bricks was lifted from his shoulders. He closed his eyes for a moment enjoying the warmth that radiates from your body. “I think I should be the one saying that, my love. You have no idea how much you lift me just by being next to me, my beautiful muse” Rubbing his back as you sighed gently, 

“Yeah I can tell.. You flirt much less now with others, only with me huh playboy?” You joked as you pulled from him just enough to see his face as he stood straight up again with a knowing smile “Yeah yeah thats because of you idiot” Rolling your eyes you reach up to press a kiss against his cheek. “Whatever you say ya simp.” You joked as you grabbed Eitas hand watching from his apartment window the city below you, the snowflakes falling steadily. Eita grumbled something as he moved to sit behind you wrapping his arms around your midsection and resting his chin on your head. “That was rude” 

“Yeah yeah, you'll be okay playboy” You teased as he groaned. A laugh leaving your lips, yeah you two will be perfectly fine. 

✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Nagi Seishiro  ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Nagi didn't think he needed anyone, and how wrong he couldve been. After befriending not only Reo but you.. Nagi soon came to realize that maybe everything isn't a hassle. Maybe.. Just maybe.. He actually enjoyed having you around. It wasn't often that he would pause his game just to respond to your text, hang out with Reo more often than normal, or even leave his apartment willingly just to see you. Nagi didn't understand his own feelings with this, looking up stupid articles about his feelings to try to understand them. One word kept showing up, “love.” Nagi was confused by this development. Did he actually love you? It wasn't the same rapid beating in his chest when he was hanging out with Reo, not that his heart skipped a beat when he was with Reo. That has to be it - right?

He wasn't sure how it happened or why his chest had felt so funny when you were around. Maybe it was the humidity in the air, yeah it was just the heat. Rather the heat that would raise on his cheeks when you so much as looked in his direction with a soft gaze, or even said his hair was cute and complimented him well. How his grey toned eyes fit his features so nicely. Nagi didn't know what to do with himself when these things happened, his face would get just hot, his stomach would do so many flips he felt sick. Nagi couldn't even handle your gaze, how would he be able to even hold your hand, to press his lips against yours. They looked so inviting, so soft. He would stay up thinking about you, how you would taste.. Shaking the thoughts as he tossed and turned. 

“Seishiro!? Earth to Seishirooo!” You waved your hand in front of his face as you sat across from him as he blinked a few times at you, his cheeks heating with a soft hue. Clearing his throat as he looked back down at his phone. His reaction made you stifle a laugh before leaning back in his bed, your back against the wall “Hmm something on your mind?” You questioned as your gaze drifted to your own phone as you scrolled through your feeds. Yeah, you. “Hell no. I was.. was distracted by uh.. something going on in my game. Don't worry about it. It's gone now anyways.” He lied through his teeth as you raised a brow and tilt your head to the side, almost as if you were calling his bluff. “Mm, right. So what was I talking about then?” Nagi couldn't recall a single thing you had said, too distracted by your lips and how the sun beams that seeped through his curtains hit the gloss that was on your lips. ���Uhm.. uh..” He looked at everything but you as he tried to come up with something. 

An amused grin curled at the corner of your lips, leaning on your elbows. “I was talking about Reo and how he looked really hot, all dressed up y'know.” You too, lied through your teeth but that was not the point right now. Nagi felt an unfamiliar sensation flooding his veins as he clicked his tongue against his teeth before tossing his phone aside, a pout on his lips. He turned to you as he huffed. Jealousy and insecurities flooding his body. “I'm just teasing Seishiro I cou-” He cuts you off as he looks at you with eyes filled with determination which shut you up quickly as he opens his mouth several times before shutting it again. 

With his feelings being higher than he ever thought they could be he blurts out words you half expected to never fall from his lips “I love you okay!? I don't want to hear about Reo or h-how hot you think he is, or how strong he looks. I-I know I wouldn't match up to him. I've been alone most of my life. I don't know what these feelings are. I just know that.. I can't match up to him for you. I'm not Reo.” 

Looking at him with a shocked expression as a soft sigh left your lips reaching across the table grabbing his hands into your own. “That is the insecurities talking, Sei..” You moved closer to him as a hand rested against the top of his head, nails grazing against his scalp, earning a soft groan from his throat as he leaned into your touch.

You sighed softly as you felt the anxiety radiating from his body. “Sei. Do you really think that if I actually wanted Reo that I would be here with you all the time? That I would wait for you to come online just to be able to play games with you? Seishiro.. The feelings I have for you would outweigh anyone like Reo. No amount of money would change how I feel about you. I talk to the stars about you, whispering to the wind hoping you would hear how much I love you. Not even the Gods could keep me away from you Seishiro. I'm sorry if talking about Reo that way made you upset.” 

Nagis eyes searched for yours, as if he was looking for something in them. However he's only met with a soft gaze that was filled with nothing but adoration. He moves to sit up as he nearly tackles you back against the mattress, his arms wrapping around you rightly his head finding its place in your chest. A laugh pulled from your throat as he nuzzled against you. 

“You mean it?” He murmured, his voice muffled. 

“Yeah, I mean it, Seishiro.” You spoke as you reached to card your fingers through his hair as he gave your frame a squeeze falling in love with the way you felt in his arms. Yeah, maybe not being alone is nice.

Rin Itoshi ♡･ﾟ:｡.:･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:｡.:･ﾟ

Meeting Rin was purely an accident and neither of you remember how it happened. Well Rin did, he fully remembers the moment you walked into his life standing by his side even when he was the lowest he had ever been. Rin did not however remember when he fell for you. Maybe it was when he first saw you, maybe it was after. Maybe it was when you first breathed his name rather than calling him Itoshi. That didn't matter to him anymore. All he knew is what he wanted to protect you no matter the cost or consequence of his action. He would move mountains if you asked him too. 

Rin has always kept to himself, he found it hard venturing out, let alone understanding how he felt about you. Let alone he found it hard to even think with how he was that you would ever feel the same about him. Did you too feel the same as he did? Rin knew he was good at one thing, and still had his own self doubts. 

Now the two of you were on the train home, having gone to see a new horror movie Rin had convinced you to go see. You had been scared out of your mind the whole time while Rin didn't seem to even move a muscle while watching it. However the movie still ended up being really good. Rin had invited you over to his place for some dinner, and you weren't going to say no to his cooking. He somehow was amazing in the kitchen. Not that you knew how, but you weren't going to complain at all. 

The setting sun casted beautiful hues of pinks and purples in the sky. Stopping as you pulled out your phone, Rin had stopped looking back at you as you snapped the photo. Friends dont look at friends that way. However the thought passes as quickly as it comes into your head. 

“Rin wait, stay just like that, look up towards the sky.” You told him as he sighed but still entertained your request. Humming as you tisked before walking over to him grabbing his cheeks as you adjusted his head. His cheeks felt cold under your touch. “There just like that dont move pretty RinRin” You teased as you took a few steps back again taking a few snaps as you smiled at your phone. 

“Sometimes you should listen to me Rin” You mused as you showed him the photo, it did look great as he playfully rolled his eyes “Sure, I'd rather not do that. A bit too.. Lukewarm for me doll” 

A gasp passed your lips as your jaw slacked at his harmless insult. He most definitely did not see you as lukewarm. “Ouch I'm wounded, might need some homemade cookies and ice cream to fill the wounds you've caused me” You said dramatically as you gripped his jacket falling to your knees, giggling the whole way down. Rin couldn't help but to look at you with a raised brow and an amused expression. A chuckle being forced from his chest as he grabbed your hand pulling you back to your feet. 

“That was the most dramatic thing you've done, however if you want cookies you're gonna make them yourself or at least help me.” He spoke, a smile, albeit small, still on his lips. “Rin.. the last time you let me in the kitchen I almost burnt down your apartment and I also ruined the baking sheet. That's not a good idea.” 

Rin remembered this happening, the screaming of his name, and panic in your voice. Trying to waft out the smoke all while to get the smoke detector to stop beeping, crying out how the fire department was going to show up if he did help. All the while he was doubled over holding his stomach as belting laughs rippled from his throat. Rin was not helpful at all. It was one of his favorite memories the two of you shared. 

“Yeah I'd prefer if you didn't do that again. I'll take care of it” he spoke with a monotone voice as he grimaced.

Finally making it back to his apartment, with you not in the kitchen while he made dinner, choosing to just pull out the store bought cookies hoping it would be enough to appease you. Idle conversation filled the air as the two of you ate. However, getting a notification on your phone stating there had been an accident with the trains and you were now going to be stuck or get a taxi in hopes that it wouldnt take hours to get you home due to the amount of added traffic due to the trains being down. 

“You could always just stay over. I think you still have some clothes here, if not you can just wear mine.” Rin stated as if it was the only option. Not that he was wrong, however it did sound better than dealing with the hellish drive home. 

“Fine but you better keep your boyish hands to yourself” You teased as you skipped to his bedroom and flicked on the light. Humming as you changed into lounge wear, it was much more comfortable than what you had on before. 

Peering out from the door once you were in your Pj’s “Come on, I'm ready for bed. It's a damn good thing I have clothes over here from the last time I stayed over. I'd hate to be in your stinky clothes” You teased. Rin has never smelled bad. In fact you bought the cologne he had worn and even when he got low he would buy the exact same one again. You did say it was our favorite afterall. 

Rin let out a groan as he stood up and walked over to you, and entered the room. Following you into the bed, watching you wiggle around to find a comfortable spot as his hands came to his hips with raised brows, shaking his head with a chuckle. “You're somethin’ else I swear.” Rin walked into the closet to change in there as he stopped out. Seeing your chest steadily rising and falling. His gaze lingering for a moment. Taking out his phone as he took a few photos, to tease you with later. 

Finally climbing into the bed, he was sure you were in a deep sleep as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against him. Selfishly he knew his feelings. Rin pressed a kiss against your forehead as he sighed. “I love you so much. You have no idea what you do to me, you little minx.” Although Rin couldn't have been more wrong as he blinked a few times as he felt you shift under his weight, peering up at him with wide eyes. “Ya know, confessions are best given when someone is awake RinRin.” You teased, as he avoided your gaze only for you to bring it back to you as your hand was pressed against his cheek. 

“And you're awake, so it makes it easier for me too.” You murmured as you leaned forward, lips locking together as if it was the most perfect puzzle pieces locking together. “I love you too. We will talk more about this in the morning and what that means for us, however, for now. Protect me from the monsters under your bed, yeah?” Rin only nodded, his cheeks tinted pink as his heart raced in his chest. Feeling you adjust yourself in his arms, your face in the crook of his neck. 

This was perfect. You were perfect.

♡･ﾟ:｡.:･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:｡.:･ﾟ

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[totalswag]

midnight adventures — RAFE CAMERON

authors note here's a little something sweet for you guys. soft!rafe will forever have my heart. happy reading lovies.

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summary having trouble sleeping throughout the night and text rafe if you can go on a drive to relax your mind

warning(s) trouble sleeping and rafe being the best boyfriend.

"Please sleep," you say to yourself, on the verge of tears, staring at the ceiling and running your hands through your hair with frustration.

It was three in the morning.

You've recently struggled to sleep at night, falling asleep around four in the morning, getting five hours of sleep, and yet feeling exhausted during the day.

Rolling over on your side, a huff escapes your lips as you reach your arm up to the nightstand, where your phones are plugged in. You take it off the charger and call your boyfriend, Rafe.

He responded within five seconds, sounding sleepy and worried. After you've finished stating your sleeping problems, he says he'll be there in ten minutes.

Rafe's truck can be heard from around the corner; a smile forms on your face. You put your slides on and one of Rafe's sweatshirt on then walk downstairs to the front door.

You snuck out of the house quietly and hopped into the passenger seat, greeted by the familiar perfume of Rafe's cologne combined with the subtle aroma of leather.

"Hey," he whispered softly, reaching over to offer your hand a comforting squeeze. "Ready?"

"Yeah," you replied, beaming warmly at him. "Thank you for this."

"Anything for you," he said, turning the truck into gear and driving away from your home turning out of the neighborhood.

He hands you his unlocked phone for music; you're usually on aux in his car. You pick the first song you liked and would set the mood.

You feel his right hand on your thigh, the thumb gently caressing. You let yourself relax under his touch.

"You want to grab something to eat?" He asks out of the blue, checking his shoulder before changing lanes and glancing at you for a response.

"Can we go to the store?" You recommended pointing to the store across the street. 

"Of sure, Baby.”

After getting some snacks, Rafe drove to your favorite spot, the beach. Generally this is your favorite spot to go whenever you want to get away from everything.

Rafe backed into the parking area so you could face the water in the dim light. You took the two blankets he keeps in the second row as he moved around to open your door.

Rafe drew you closer to him once the two of you had settled in. You looked up at him, admiring how blessed you were to have him.

"If you want to kiss me, just tell me," he quips, his eyes fixed on the water. You hit him in the chest, making him laugh, then kissed him.

"What's keeping you up all night princess?" He asks quietly, gently pushing your hair away from your face and examining your expression.

Rafe loathes witnessing you struggle to fall asleep or feel this way. Regardless of the circumstance, he has always been there for you in an instant. You find him most admirable in that regard. You are very fortunate to have him.

"I honestly don't know what's causing it," you shrugged, "stress might be the main factor or something else" was the only response you could give him right now. I'm not sure what is causing you to stay up late and never get enough sleep.

Rafe furrows his brows.

"You know I'd come sleep with you if you had problems falling asleep, and I don't want you to lose sleep. You value your sleep, I know that." You laugh at how much you value your sleep—you really do.

After a while, a few subjects are discussed. A cold breeze blows through the night, and the sound of the waves is calming. You can sense your own body becoming more at ease.

In silence, Rafe and you lay together covered by blankets. It seemed like the ideal moment. You drew closer to him— he also smells good.

"You almost ready to go?" Rafe asks curiously, "I don't want your parents waking up to you not in your bed" you stopped yourself after he finished his sentence, nodding. 

"Yeah we couldn't have that" you joke.

He turned on the ignition after the two of you got comfortable in the truck, allowing it to warm up for five minutes as you had been sitting on the bed with the truck turned off for an hour. 

It took ten minutes to make the drive back to your home. You didn't want to spend the remainder of the night apart from Rafe. Compared to before you saw him, you felt calmer and more content. 

"Can you stay?" If you think about it, what you're asking kindly amounts to pleading.

He replies sarcastically, "How can I refuse?" and then leans in to give you a kiss on the lips before turning off his truck.

Quitely entering your house with Rafe closely behind you. You turned your phone flashlight on incase of running into stuff and waking everyone up.

When you got to your room you took your slides and socks off your feet then flopping on your bed. Rafe took his shirt off along with shoes and socks. You opened your arms waiting for Rafe to get into bed with you.

"Don't worry, I'm coming," he says, placing his shirt on the desk chair across the room.

"Oh, that's what she said," you laugh.

Fake laughing, Rafe says, "Haha so funny" as he slides under the covers.

Snuggling closer to Rafe, you let out a sigh of relief as you kissed his naked chest several times and drew invisible hearts before feeling your eyes close.

You yawn with exhaustion, "Thank you for keeping me company tonight, baby, it means a lot, I love you."

"I love you too princess and that's what I'm supposed to do, take care of my beautiful girlfriend when she's in times like this."

You shared a final kiss with Rafe and then dozed out in each other's arms.

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[buttercupblu]

Satoru's Psyche|Escalating

"Should I really have to suffer for my actions?"

Previous SessionSession 2 of 10|Next Session

🗂️Patient Chart Update: Patient Gojo displayed extremely flirtatious and unruly behavior during the first half of his visit. Mentions of escape and kid-napping were noted as well as enforced close proximity with his nurse. Threatening remarks were also made at the end of his lunch in response to mentions of disciplinary action. Patient is scheduled for a bath but is pending the possibility of negative punishment to instill corrective behaviors. 📋Length of Session (w.c): 8.3k out of "i said we will cross that bridge when we get to it 😊" 💊Intake Chart (tags): mild violence but no in-action descriptors, coercion, manipulation, drug use, angst, unwatched close contact and touch, nudity, mentally unstable Gojo, Nurse!Reader ✏️Doctor's angel’s note: i hope you know what you're doing, Nurse 🎼Waiting room music: Overheated|Billie Eilish

Choose wisely.

Hunger stirs in your tummy, and Gojo's words sit with you through lunch. Your spoon clinks around the bowl, stirring the soup growing colder by the second though the growls from your stomach are too obnoxious to be ignored. But your mind wanders.

You're stuck. Earlier, you were all for serving up justice on a silver platter, but now you're seriously second-guessing your "genius" idea to punish Gojo by making him someone else's problem.

As if anyone will be crazy enough to say yes.

Everyone already avoids his wing like the plague. It's kind of an unspoken fact that you are Gojo's one and only. The only staff he allows near him. Anyone else would be playing with fire.

And if someone is brave enough to willingly throw themselves into the lion's den, they definitely can't be new. New to nursing—new to the ward. High expertise is needed here. Someone seasoned—experience which you lack yourself—otherwise, they won't last a second with Gojo.

It'll be way too easy for him to make them snap, like tossing a bone to a dog.

"Persephone." Yuko brings you out of your coma.

You perk up, instinctively smiling. "Hey, what's up?"

"You tell me," she snorts. "You've been playing with your food like break isn't over in 10 minutes." She touches your arm. "Everything ok?"

It's written all over your face, huh? You could deflate right now.

This is why Yuko is your favorite co-worker. Always reading you like a book without you needing to say a word. Quick to call anything off out.

Leaning back in your chair, you huff, rubbing circles into your temples to relieve the headache you didn't know you had.

"Yeah, yeah," you begin, "It's just—" You stop, her eyes hold so much concern and you've barely opened your mouth. Not sure if you should now because you know what kind of person Yuko is.

And if she knew even half of what you don't tell her during your lunch breaks spent complaining about work, she'd hang Gojo out to dry if she could. She often makes it very clear she hates you have to deal with him at all.

"—I'm just a bit tired. Gojo's scheduled for a bath later, him and two others. Gojo's easy but...I don't know. I feel slower than usual today. Definitely won't get home until late, again, because of all these sponge baths." You cringe at the last part.

Aside from trying to keep Yuko cool, you also don't want to risk the news getting back to the Director who could take you off of Gojo completely. No one else can take your place. And who knows what would happen if you disappeared from his roster for good?

How would his threats manifest?

Yuko scoffs, waving her hand.

"Gojo and easy do not go together," and you both shake your heads and laugh. "But I get it. You did come in super early."

"Thought there'd be less of us," you sigh.

"Sonya's been on our asses lately, right? But hey, she finally got us all here."

"A little too late. The damage is done," you pout, resting your elbows on the table, realizing you've accidentally grown used to chaos and ever-changing schedule.

You routinely plan ahead to make sure you can stand up when people fall short. Constantly putting yourself on the back burner seems to be a thing that always set you back.

"Sooo, you just need rest, ya? Nothing else? Gojo—" there she goes "—been 'okay' with you lately?"

Your heart skips. "Ya. he isn't so bad today," you lie, "I'd just love to be home on time for once. Maybe even a bit early, I'm soo close. Overtime's been wringing my neck for weeks."

Yuko looks at you with puppy dog eyes. And not in a "I feel sorry for you" kind of way, but one that almost makes you feel bad for not telling her the whole truth.

"Here," she pushes your soup towards you, "How about I do Gojo's bath and you get an early start on my last two? That way you can at least binge that show you won't shut up about later." She smiles.

You immediately protest.

There's no way you can do that to her.

Yuko never even crossed your mind and was far from your first pick, not because she can't handle him but because she's your friend. Not just a colleague, but someone you actually care about more than anyone else in this run-down job even if she doesn't feel the same.

She's too good of a person, and you'd be the Devil Incarnate if you let her do something so risky. Especially when you can just suck it up and get it over with.

"Woah, woah, it's just a bath, calm down," she says, taking your hands in hers as you ramble on, trying to convince her that you'll be fine or that you'll find someone else. Burdening her is simply out of the question.

"Who else but me, Seph'?" and she tilts her head, "You don't you think I'm as good as you?" And the way she says it, giving you that look she does when you're being stubborn, dares you to challenge her.

Now you really have to think about what to say.

Goddamn it, you regret saying anything at all, but Yuko's so motherly, how could you resist? Hiding from her is impossible, she would've sniffed you out sooner or later.

Easing your pains when she can is her specialty—helping to calm and settle you down when you blow things out of proportion.

Could this be one of those moments? Or are Gojo's words more than just hot air?

The back and forth is killing you, but the combination of Yuko's reassuring touch and your gurgling stomach puts the final nail in the coffin as she reminds you of the time.

Eyes wide, you look at the clock, ticking away faster than you realized, then back at your lukewarm soup.

Denying that you need help would be silly because technically it's true. You probably should've asked the Director for a little Gojo break forever ago, even if just for a few hours a few times a week. It would be better than nothing because if you can't function, Gojo can't be cared for.

So, who better to help bridge that gap for you than Yuko?

The gutsy woman has been your rock ever since you started at the ward, having your back and sticking with you through tough times when staff constantly dips in and out of the facility like a rotating door, unable to handle the job.

Yuko's a real day one, and next to you, she's the most competent nurse in these walls, fully equipped with a "take-no-shit" attitude that routinely keeps her patients in check.

When you really think about it, it'd be silly, downright irresponsible to trust anyone else.

Her offer is simply too good to dismiss.

"Thank you, Yuko," you cave, grabbing your spoon and finally allowing yourself to enjoy your meal. "You're...amazing. I don't deserve you."

She looks on happily. "Just promise me you'll take some personal time after this," she insists, worry evident in her voice. "We both know how much you care, but even superheroes need rest." She's too kind and right in more ways than one. "Besides, I think Gojo will like me, ya? I'm cool. I'm fun. He'll like a friend of friend?"

You roll your eyes—ya, totally, cool people definitely say they're cool.

Not knowing whether to joke back or wave her off, you softly smile at her concern before nodding, vowing to make good on your promise and feel a bit lighter knowing your wish for early release will actually come true.

Maybe.

The latest threat to your miracle in the making is Mr. Hampton, who is personally making it his business to drag the already long day by its edges, almost bringing time to a standstill with the way he's handling his bath.

Enormous and lumbering, the man Yuko usually deals with took his sweet time gathering his things and even longer trekking down the seemingly endless halls leading to the bathing area. Occupying every inch of the space like those massive trucks that hog the interstate, yet inching along at a pace that makes a snail look like it's in a sprint.

All that was missing were the yellow hazard lights.

Oh no, please, take your time, you think, watching Mr. Hampton clean each limb painstakingly s l o w in a tub that's comically too small for him. You may have been able to rush through Yuko's first patient, but this one wanted all that time back.

His pace resembles a giant's, and his cheery, nonsensical hums echo around the hollow chambers and lull you to sleep, turning your eyes into bricks under the spell of his melody. Perfect timing for the energy drinks from early to crash you out, tag teaming with the chair beneath you that feels a bit too soft as you lean over the tub, willing the colossal man to hurry up.

Warm water flows over your skin as you scrub circles on his neck, deciding to bite the bullet and take over the bath so he can play with the bubbles and get out when you hear a blood-curdling scream.

Your entire body goes rigid, shock reverberating through your spine and forcing you to halt as your mind goes blank. But steamy water brings you back to life, drenching your shirt and upper thighs when Mr. Hampton jumps from the noise.

The rude awakening makes you lock in.

The scream. It sounds like...no, you know it came from the west wing...where Gojo is.

And Yuko.

Hurried steps rush past your door, sounds of multidirectional distress and frantic shouts echoing through the corridor—staff members and patients alike sweep into a whirlwind of panic.

You're number one, dropping the scrubber and scrambling to help Mr. Hampton out of the tub, hands shaking as he grips them.

A security guard bursts into the room, face ashen and jaw tight.

"Nurse! We need everyone in the west wing, immediately!" The command is sharp, laced with an urgency you've never seen before.

And immediately feel responsible for.

"There's been an incident."

Without another thought, you wrap Mr. Hampton in a towel, trying your best to assure him that everything is fine when your obviously trembling body says nothing is. His confused gaze follows you as you lead him back to his room, the commotion in the air moving him a lot faster than earlier before you rush back out and head straight for the west wing—where chaos reigns supreme.

The usually pristine floors, normally squeaky clean due to lack of traffic, are now barely visible. Staff members crowd the familiar hall for the first time since Gojo made it his own, filling the space with more bodies than you're used to and making it difficult to find the source of trouble.

Not like you need to. The truth is painfully clear, and it's disrespectful to even pretend you don't know exactly what went wrong.

You push through the masses, clumsily bumping shoulders, your heart beating into your ears and making the world seem quiet as you inch closer and closer to disaster. Dragging imaginary shackles on your feet until you all but collapse once you spot it.

Gojo—barely restrained by guards, straitjacket nowhere in sight—standing absolutely furious.

And for the first time today, time seems to slow down, your mouth suddenly becoming dry when you look past him.

Yuko.

Halfway out the door to his room. Sprawled out on the ground. Bruised, unconscious, and no signs of breathing.

Your hands fly to your lips, mouth agape. Murmurs from the crowd swirl around you before attendants rush to Yuko's side, knocking into your pathetic frame as you stand too frozen to move.

They gently pick her up, careful to handle her motionless body and place her on a stretcher. Her usually vibrant face is drained of color, twisting the dagger in your chest when you spot the subtle rise and fall of her chest. Fighting for breath.

Fighting.

It hits you like a train.

Someone as kind as her, always greeting you with warmth and empathy and capacity every time she sees you, should never have to lift a finger let alone fight for her life. The sight is too much to bear.

Waves of helplessness crash over you and you can't even look at her. Regretting with every ounce of your being that you sent her in your place. Knowing this could happen. Concerned only with your silly wants and needs.

But you're so confused.

The ward should have weakened Gojo—Yuko should have been fine. The only threat Gojo has up his sleeve is mental torture but Yuko might as well be Freud. Her mind is sound, strong.

And that's where you fucked up, forgetting that Gojo's pure strength, especially when he's lost his fucking mind and triggered, is stronger.

Even with his security system in place, the devil is still powerful enough on his own. And like this was some sick and twisted experiment to help you figure that out, Yuko was the one to pay the price.

"I warned, I WARNED YOU!" Gojo's words pierce the overlapping voices like a sword, breaking your shock and drawing everyone's attention to the strange interaction between the two of you. "I don't like to be touched by strangers, Nurse." Guards struggle to restrain him as he pulls away.

All eyes fall on you and the stares are intense. Confusion and judgment.

Why was Yuko here in the first place?Where was Seph’?How’d he get out?How did this happen? 

Whether the murmurs are real or in your head, the effect is all the same, and you wish you could just completely vanish. Standing like a deer in headlights—and they're so fucking bright.

But Gojo is brimming with malice and amusement, chaotic energy pulsing from the hellish man and threatening to send sparks flying. Daring someone to be brave and push the button.

But despite his outward display of dominance, the pure rage on his face that makes you feel sick to your stomach about every decision you've ever made, there's something...uncertain lurking behind those fiery eyes.

Something like...apprehension.

Like he knows he's done something wrong.

Yet, words escape you, as if anything needs to or even could be said. But soon, fear and guilt turn to anger, threatening to consume you. Ready to eat you alive and spit out the bones with disgust because you are not a victim.

You have no right to stand here, spineless, shocked, or feeling even a little sorry for yourself. Holding back tears because you know what you've done.

Your fists clench, unsure how to deal with it, but there's fire in your eyes because someone needs to pay.

But then you exhale, thoughts shifting to Yuko as you take a good look around at what happened the last time you decided to take things into your own hands. All of your actions, even now, are rooted in selfishness. Like you've learned nothing.

Pushing down the knot growing in your stomach, you turn away to follow the medics, deciding your friend needs you more than you need revenge. Gojo doesn't deserve any more of your attention, even if it means risking your job or life to turn your back on him.

And there's nothing Gojo hates more than being ignored.

Struggled and strained noises grow louder. Guards tighten their grip on the fuming man whose raw strength outnumbers thousands of them even without his cursed energy.

You look back, their determination to keep him contained making you nervous. You don't anyone else to get hurt and Gojo is fully exploiting that.

You're painfully aware that your decisions have put you in this position, watching the guards' valiant but increasingly pointless effort to prevent Gojo from causing further harm. But it's obviously a losing fight, and the unease on their faces is unmistakably clear.

You wonder why they don't just run like hell.

"Let's go," a guard barks, but Gojo remains fixed in place. Moving a boulder would be easier.

"No, I'm filthy," Gojo protests, smirking, "And if I don't have my bath soon, there will be hell to pay."

Seeing no one else in the room, his eyes are locked only on you, his expression a menacing promise that would send anyone else running for the hills. A look that says, "Try that shit again, and there will be casualties instead of mercy."

Reinforcements are called but it won't be enough. The goddamn military wouldn't be enough. Gojo is...the strongest, after all.

"Stop."

Your cry freezes the room. Everything goes silent.

You hesitate, fuck, what should you do?

What can you do? No one else can suffer—no one else should suffer. Because of you.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, you silently apologize to Yuko, swallowing a lump instead of looking back.

"I'll do it," you say firmly, "Just stop this and...and I'll give you your bath. Please—" The sharpest pang you've ever felt cuts through you. "—just don't hurt anyone else."

Pathetic. But necessary.

He looks into your pleading eyes with surprise, amazement even, before smiling.

The submission in your voice sounds better than anything he could ever imagine. A sweet tones that feed his already inflated ego.

Unsure of how to proceed, the guards exchange uneasy glances.

Gojo's strength is undeniable, that much is evident, and restraining him forever is simply not possible.

You know offering to give him what he wants is risky as hell...but this is your doing. Your mess to clean up.

So you squeeze your sweaty palms and give a decisive nod, signaling at the guards to let him go. They hesitate a second, then reluctantly agree, stepping back and leaving Gojo standing smugly before you.

Closing your eyes, you breathe, hating to have to look at him, but needing to stay strong. For Yuko. For yourself. And everyone else in the ward.

But Gojo's satisfied grin says it all. He's won this round.

You're ready to get the next over with.

The squeaking of your shoes has never been this loud, each echo bouncing off the empty halls and reminding you of how alone you are.

Alone—with a psychopath.

A bit more docile, doped-up psychopath but, the man could probably still rip someone's head clean off if he wanted to.

Still, Gojo despises anything that alters his body—mentally, physically, all of the above. Alcohol, medication, coffee, energy drinks—anything that threatens his need for absolute control.

But he also needed to compromise, and you refused to be alone with him again unless he took something stronger. Otherwise, it would be you, all the guards in the ward, and a pay-per-view premiere of his bath time.

He knew he had to agree because his ass is not for free, but only if you took it as well.

You blinked, hard.

You knew he would be skeptical—hell, it could be poison, and he wouldn’t blame you. But to suggest something so ridiculous?

"Half, then," he said, as if that made his suggestion any less idiotic, but, as you waited for your supervisor to dismiss the insane idea, the back and forth with Gojo actually didn't save you. And you didn't need to ask why. The entire ward shoots daggers at you any time someone walks by now.

Your supervisor reassured you that you'd be fine, the mild tranquilizer would be out of your system by the end of the day, then she patted your back as if to say, "Lay in the bed you made."

It felt unreal, holding the familiar pill between your fingers, one you were used to dishing out but now had to take.

With a quick snap, you broke it in half, holding his half out to the leering man. Gaze unwavering as he leaned forward and parted his lips, waiting. Taking a deep breath, you placed them both on your tongues, in disbelief at your reality, but Gojo's focus was elsewhere, not wasting this prime opportunity to rattle you more and taste you, closing his lips around your fingertip with a quick lick before you snatched away.

But it wasn’t quick enough to avoid the tingles shooting up your arm as you swallowed, no longer needing the water you had set aside, and a confusing mix of emotions churned as the tingles spread throughout your body.

Making good on his promise, he swallowed his own, still watching you with a knowing glint in his eyes. Like he knows what he does to you. And despite just witnessing this man's violence firsthand, you'd give anything to deny that he still has an effect on you. Hating yourself for being more concerned with the way he looked at you and the lingering sensation on your skin than the tranquilizer now coursing through your system.

The guards carefully lead you and Gojo to his private bathroom—they're more there for show than for protection, but you'll take what you can get, and they keep a firm grip on his replacement straitjacket.

You trail behind, mind buried with thoughts of what to say once you're really alone with him.

The door shuts behind you, followed by the familiar sound of a series of locks clicking shut. "We'll be right outside," one of the guards mutters, eyes shifting between you and Gojo, a stereotypical warning lacing his voice, but even he probably doesn't believe it.

"Perv," Gojo sneers and laughs, but you don't find a damn thing funny, the keys to his jacket digging into your palms as you spin around and face him, furious. What would be better? Slapping him, kicking him, or knocking his teeth out. Or should you be particularly evil and just let him sit in the shower, fully restrained and drenched in cold water and you let it rain down. None of the above will do you any good, but it'll show him exactly how done you are with his shit.

"That isn't funny. None of this is funny," it fumes out before you know you're speaking, "You've hurt someone—you hurt my friend." Your rage echos through the vast bathroom.

Gojo's laugh fades, his smug expression slipping from his face. Even you're surprised.

...oh shit.

You're actually confronting him.

The intense words burn through his usual arrogance, leaving a heavy, uncomfortable silence between you.

Then, for a fleeting second, his face does something weird.

Something you haven't seen before as his eyebrows draw together. Is that...regret?

"I'm sorry."

The record scratches. You’re fully positive you must be dreaming.

But when he doesn’t make a joke or even crack a smile, you squint at him.

The words are muttered and reluctant, but there they are, hanging in the air between you.

"It...won't happen again."

And he's serious, the same seriousness you see when his heart races as you take his vitals...but why? Because an apology? From him?? Unheard of.

Gojo has said some nasty things to you in the past that you've immediately scolded him for, but he's never apologized. He'd make a note when certain jokes didn't land, but he never took them back, preferring to cut out his own tongue than to waste his breath being sorry.

You know better than to take anything Gojo says at face value, but...what the fuck??? You almost feel offended.

He has to be joking, fucking with you to dig even deeper under your skin.

Or is he?

Fuck, you don't know how to feel.

He's so good at that, stealing the air back and hanging his words in them. Tempting you to pause and even consider if he ever truly means them. If he could mean them. The mind games are endless.

But then, the familiar cockiness returns and overshadows your doubts, twisting your stomach into knots with that familiar smile of his.

"Now," he says, strutting towards the stalls, "let's get this bath started, shall we?" And his easy, but confident steps call you to follow, a stark reminder of who you're dealing with. But he never knows when to quit. "Or should I really have to suffer for my actions?" and the bastard pouts.

Though you know he's being sarcastic and not to feed into his taunts, you can't help but wonder—what would suffering even look like for someone like Gojo?

Violence? Physical pain? A slow and agonizingly painful death?

But the guy is damn near invincible. What on earth could hurt him?

Whatever it is, it would have to be his absolute worst nightmare, but nothing comes to mind at the moment other than frustration because you have to keep making choices.

Return his energy or keep it professional? Tolerance or revenge?

"Apologizing won't cut it," you snap and gesture at his jacket, wondering how the hell he slipped out of the first one without leaving a trace. "And no tricks, or those guards will be back in here faster than you can tell another lame joke."

Smooth.

Gojo sighs sooo dramatically, like he can see straight through your kitty claws. "Fine, fine. Loosen up," he drags, "I won't cause any trouble. Just don't go getting any ideas now, Nurse." and he winks.

He's insufferable—but despite your smoldering anger, tendrils of doubt still creep in.

Your fingers slightly tremble as you begin to unfasten his straps, but each click feels a bit like victory, a fragile illusion of your 'control'—at least for now—because at the end of the day, Gojo had chosen you to listen to. And after today, he's sure you won't forget there isn't room for anyone else.

The jacket falls with a heavy thud, your eyes immediately scanning his upper body in search of any signs of injury or stress. The cascading bruises on his arms surprise you.

They feel so feeble in your hands; the evidence of him not as invincible as he seems is jarring. Pale, weak, and resting between your fingers. Devoid of the power that makes him so feared.

"Never seen bruises before," he tilts his head, "at least not on me"

You hope Yuko was at least partly responsible for the marks on the villain, but they appear self-inflicted, and he's not as mobile.

Fuck, now you'll have to bathe him too. Still, it's strange, seeing him like this. Even weirder knowing that he could still do damage in this state and you can't shake the feeling of this temporary 'truce'. If it isn't obvious by now, you've learned that Gojo always has something up his sleeve.

Warm water soothes you a bit, flowing over your fingers as it fills the large white tub—pristine, imported from somewhere far away, and standing on decorative claw feet. Your eyes wouldn't stop rolling the first time you saw it, completely annoyed with Gojo's over-the-top alterations and sense of style, but you'd be a liar if you said you never thought about sinking your body into it.

The best you could do was cope with the little porcelain tub in your apartment, and you get lost thinking about how you'd love to take a long, hot, and steamy bath when you get home—if you'll even have the energy. There's no way you'll be leaving early now, not like you deserve it, and you feel sick for even thinking about it. You doubt you'll even have a job tomorrow.

You look so defeated Gojo thinks, sauntering forward and lifting the hem of his shirt. You turn away, focusing instead on the temperature of the water, but the rustling sound of his shirt being pulled overhead and pants falling to the ground warms your cheeks.

His physique certainly isn't lacking, even in his current state, but still, you wonder how such a slim but toned frame could be so...powerful.

Could you be more obvious? Your flickering eyes are so telling, shamefully darting between him and the water, but he catches your gaze from the corner of his eye as if he's read your mind. How cute, he thinks, trying to hide away your thoughts.

Clearing your throat, you toss in his loofah. "Well...go on. It's ready." But Gojo only grins, amused by your attempts to look away despite seeing his muscled frame a number of times. Relishing in the fact that he still manages to fluster you.

"Your shirt," he eyes your top, "Your pants. Looks like you've already started without me."

The water stains from earlier sit beautifully across your chest, not yet fully dry, and drawing his eyes to your semi-erect nips.

His teeth tug at his bottom lip, eyes shamelessly raking over your hefty chest. "Always such a tease, aren't you, Nurse?"

You grit your teeth, cursing the conflict swirling in your stuttering heart, fully aware of the thin line between professionalism and this game of intimacy he refuses to stop playing. Everything is always a game no matter the circumstances. And he loves to push your buttons.

"Just get in, Gojo," you order, and after what feels like an eternity, the silence is broken by the sound of splashing water as he steps into the bath.

He slowly sinks in, sighing at the warmth of the water. Ringlets of steam engulf him, almost making his silky white hair disappear with it.

His arms string over the rim of the tub, a look of relaxation resting on his face as if he's had a long, hard day. You resist the urge to slap it off.

Sudsy bubbles form from the solution you pour under the faucet, hoping to shield your eyes from his body. You've seen enough today and expect the mini-rebellious act to piss him off, but as the bubbles grow, so do his eyes. Picking up a handful, he actually starts playing with them.

"Nice touch," he adds, blowing them right into your face, and you watch with a tight lip as he decorates the bathroom with them, knowing you'll be the one to clean it all up.

He sits a crown on his head and gives himself a bubble beard, nipping your nose with some that you're quick to wipe away, and his pale eyes flutter and settle on you in a curious way.

His arms flex as he leans over the edge—steam-slicked sweat dripping down his face that he doesn't bother to wipe away. "I'm ready for my sponge bath," he says, and if it was hard to take him seriously before, it's damn near impossible now—especially with that ridiculous bubble mustache.

Sickening, him still being so playful, so unserious, at a time like this.

You know Gojo's unhinged, yeah, quote, "mentally unwell and a literal danger to society", but to nearly take someone's life and then make jokes afterward?

God, you feel so stupid, walking around him like you were the shit but with the wrong guard up the whole time, playing right into his hands and accidentally rewarding this grown-ass man who likes to play with suds.

The reality of your circumstances replays in your head, the story of how you ended up here, coddling this monster, and you're still confused as hell as to why it had to be you.

Then again, this is what you signed up for...right? To heal. To help those who can't help themselves. To offer redemption some sort of redemption no matter how sick and twisted the person in need is.

With your loofah in hand, you resist the urge to roll your eyes for the 400th time today and keep your morals in mind. "Keep talking like that and I'll stop, Gojo," you say, reluctantly drenching the tool in soap before proceeding to do your job.

Gently washing his back, he sinks into your touch, closing his eyes and letting his body completely rest on the cool cast iron, breathing. Feeling like he's won no matter what you say because your scrubs feel like magic.

Across his arms and over his broad shoulders, you work your way down, bubbles glistening in your trail as you're careful not to miss a single inch of skin but don't linger too long.

Every now and then, you catch glimpses of raised marks between the foam, and because you hate yourself, your brain absolutely refuses to give you a break. You have to give kudos to his dedication to his craft. The muscle definition, the scar tissue telling stories of battles won, the evidence of his past before corruption—everything it takes to be a hero.

It's unsettling, yet fascinating, the polarity between his beauty and his monstrous deeds.

You've never really noticed because this level of care is another first for you. Usually, Gojo just hops into the shower and takes care of himself while you wait outside—easy and thorough but always taking his sweet time, all while loudly singing some annoying song that inevitably ends up stuck in your head.

But after today, it'll be impossible to trust him or you again, and the hushed whispers as the guards walked you both to the restrooms made that abundantly clear.

The pitiful thoughts seep into the way you hesitantly clean him, moving down to his chest and abs while making sure to avoid more sensitive areas, but the malicious glint in his eyes is unmistakable.

"Whatsamatter, Nurse?" Gojo taunts, feeling you slow around his stomach, "Afraid of gettin' too close?" And you can't believe you're praying for a speedy recovery for this monster so he can handle this himself again.

You ignore his comment and try to get this over with as quickly as possible, feeling humiliated enough as it is and he can sense it, mocking you with a laugh.

"You're so uptight. Can't you just relax and enjoy the view?"

God, please make him shut up, begging for relief so you won't scrub his cocky brow right off his face. "Just doing my job," you mutter, twice squeezing the loofah that feels a little funny in your hand as the soapy water rinses his chest.

It feels heavenly on his skin, but the subtle change in your movements makes his brows furrow. Slowing, more deliberate, heavy as if you're wading through molasses. You keep adjusting your grip but the material feels so strange—the texture almost too soft like it could melt into your palm.

Your breath catches when you brush his skin, not realizing how close your fingers drifted to the edge of the sponge, and though it was only a second, it sends an unexpected jolt through his chest.

The muscle relaxers. How could you have already forgotten, you both think.

But Gojo, ever observant, doesn't miss a thing.

His eyes narrow slightly as he watches you. "Feeling a little funny, Nurse?" His velvet voice teases.

"I'm fine," you lie, though you couldn't be less certain as the muscles in your hands start to relax more than you intended, the sponge gliding over his abs, and down his sides, the rhythm almost hypnotic and making his head fall back. You try to push through the haze, to finish quickly and be free of him, but you're losing the battle against numbness and heightened awareness.

And fuck, he has to bite his lip at your touch that suddenly feels so intense, a sensation too good to keep to himself, and one that you obviously need to stop being such a tight-ass.

You need to loosen up in a way that medicine can't help. And Gojo knows just the trick.

He licks his lips, tongue curling over his canine before splashing a wave of water on you in one swoop.

Saying you gasp is an understatement as the steamy wash drenches your face and front once again, setting a new record as you're hit not once, but twice in a day. The loofah slips from your hand as you instinctively reach up to shield yourself, but Gojo is quicker, wrapping his hands around your wrists and holding you in place.

A scream is ready to surge from your body when Gojo maneuvers both of your wrists into one hand, placing a finger to your lips.

"Ssssh ssh ssh ssh ssh," he hushes, his voice a little too calm, "I'm not going to hurt you." A lone droplet hangs from your eyelash and he swipes it. "I just want you to listen."

You freeze, your nerves on fire as you're forced into close proximity with him for the second time today, inches away from his face that gradually softens.

Though you can easily call for help, you know better than to argue—he knows you know better too but he never felt threatened in the first place. Besides, he can feel your breathing slowing, the effects of the pill combined with his firm hold sending a faint buzz from your wrists to your stomach, and his finger remains on your lips as he brings his closer.

His eyes flicker to your bottom lip. "You're so good at your job, Nurse," smoothly pulling it with his thumb. "That's why I like you. You're thorough but real. Just what I need to keep me sane."

Sane?

"Sane," he repeats like he's heard your thoughts. "Believe it or not, you keep me grounded...like a good boy. Be proud, not a single soul here or anywhere else can compare to me, let alone deal with me, and yet...here you are." He looks at you like you're a marvel. "You can handle that...can't you?"

Words fail you. This feels rhetorical. Why does he keep torturing you like this? What is it about you?

You haven't really thought about it since your first few weeks with him but now he's forcing you to think about the little 'power' he's given you that he can easily snatch back.

What happens if he decides to go further than flirting?

You can't handle it, any of this.

Hesitating, you're unsure of what to say but know it could never be the truth.

Gojo must sense it because he leans closer, his breath warm on your cheek.

"If you leave, I just might crack completely, beauty." A breath you didn't realize you were holding slips. "How do you think everyone else will do against me then, hmm?" Gojo knows he's a prodigy, but still manages to surprise himself sometimes, his eyes lingering over the spots on your uniform soaked through just enough to make the fabric cling—perfect aim.

Ice shoots up your spine from the heat of his unadulterated gaze, but you refuse to let him see you falter, and he can almost feel a prick from the daggers in your eyes.

"Oh, don't be like that," he purrs, thumbs grazing your wrists in a mockingly gentle touch. "We all have our boundaries, right? I thought communication was key in a relationship."

"Let go of me," you find your voice, "We're done here."

His head slightly tilts.

Look at you calling the shots, he thinks. So strong, so very serious.

"God, I can't help it," he breathes, "You're so fun to mess with."

He could laugh in your face, have his way with you, and show you that your resistance means nothing, but instead, he slowly releases your wrists and lies back against the tub. "I know you think about it—there's nothing wrong with a little fun...right?" and though the connection is severed, you don't know if it's the drugs or just him that makes his amplified touch linger as you sheepishly rub your wrists.

Gojo watches you blush red—thoughts you didn't know lived within you rushing to the forefront as if he's pushed a button.

Grimy, raw, unwanted thoughts of forbidden fruit, wandering hands, and stolen touches in the dark, wondering what his idea of "fun" is like under the sheets. With a psycho named Gojo.

You feel like you should throw up in disgust but the nausea never comes, burning hot between your legs instead.

Fuck, you have to get out of here.

You draw a breath, forcing away the torturous daydreams and quickly finish his bath.

"You should rest," you firmly say and pull the plug to let the tub drain. "And don't expect any more favors from me."

He sits up slow, his expression stone-cold as he slicks back his wet hair. Then he smiles. "I promise. Now dry me off?" he quips.

You ignore his request, swiftly handing him a towel before he can flash you. With a gruff, you lower to your knees, beginning to dry the floor of his messes and hoping to distract yourself from your questionable sanity.

The sounds of rustling fabric fill the chamber as he dries off, and once you figure it's safe, you look up to find a nude Gojo. Dripping with bubbles, hair plastered to his derpy face, and toned muscles, all the muscles, presenting themselves in all their glory.

The only things dry are his damn hands.

He throws the towel over his shoulder, sauntering towards you with a wicked grin.

"Well, aren't you gonna help me put this thing back on?" He nods at the jacket he knows is more bullshit than security. "Don't want you getting all worked up again."

The first time your brain registered that Gojo was flirting with you was on your third day as his nurse.

"Well, aren't you a breath of fresh air?" Gojo was sitting on his bed, leaning against the wall. It was the second time he'd noticed how sluggish you looked while tending to him, suggesting with a grin that you must be quite the party animal.

Ha. If only.

You tsked, tossing his bedsheets into the hamper, and assured him that your sleepy eyes and dragging feet were the result of long hours and running on fumes. Having time for fun was just a dream.

"I don't get out much myself," he says, alluding to the situation he's in, wearing sarcasm like a necklace. "I love a good night in as much as anyone else but, I don't know. The stuffiness hasn't grown on me yet."

You tugged the collar of your scrubs—the air did feel a bit thick, like the room hadn't been aired out in ages and you couldn't help but wonder how long he'd been sitting in it—how he could. That alone would be enough to drive you up a wall.

Sunlight flickered in your eyes, and you raised your hand to block it, noticing the small window perched above his chair.

"Let's open this then," you said, walking over and wrestling with the ancient wood for a moment before finally pulling the creaky flap up to the ceiling.

A sliver of your midriff peeked out as you stood on your toes to reach it, but what captured Gojo's attention most was the way the sun rays washed over your face. You scrunched your nose, the breeze sending wisps of your hair to tickle it, and he imagined the feel of your strands between his fingers.

The view was beautiful, you thought, hands gripping the warm bars. Trees surrounded the vast area, stretching out as far as you could see, the pathway to civilization completely covered in dense forest from this angle.

You never realized how high up his ward was—or how long the drop was from here.

"Too bad I'm not small enough to slip through those bars." He rubbed his stomach. "But you know me, 'Mr. BigBack.'"

He joked around as he usually did, looking to trigger your defenses, but your reaction was...odd.

Not only was this the first time anyone cared to do something so simple for Gojo, but it was also the closest anyone had gotten to him without their knees buckling.

The first two days of your trial, the Director had guards posted right outside of Gojo's door, their presence a constant reminder to stay alert and maintain a safe distance from the convict. Gojo was positive the mental barrier would keep a wall between you forever.

But then, you laughed. A real laugh. Snickery and cute. Finding his joke funny instead of threatening.

It surprised him, that sound, so natural and pure without hesitation. And he wanted to hear it again and again and again. "Who knew you could bring so much light into this place?" he sighed.

Later at lunch, you sat with Yuko, having your usual midday catch-up. You never start with yours but she, like most people in the ward then, was absolutely dying to hear about how you were dealing with the villain of the century.

"He's actually not so bad...yet. Corny, but," you took a pondering breath, "He kind of thanked me today?"

She immediately scoffed and waved you off, and who could blame her?

You were an anomaly, Gojo already showed that he was capable of mercy and now he was thanking you??

Being polite was too far of a stretch to believe, you must have been mistaken. But when you gave her the deets on why he'd do such a thing, she nearly choked on her apple. "He said that??"

"Ya?" You patted her back with a concerned look.

"Watch out, Casanova," she teased, clearing her throat with a nervous laugh.

Her comment threw you off for the rest of lunch, but when you thought about it later that night while surfing for new shows, a light bulb went off.

He flirted with you.

Thinking it was just another one of those literal dry-humor jokes or simply gratitude for making his stay a little less crappy, it flew right over your head. You always feel warm inside when you help people so you didn't think too much about it.

To you, it was just a kudos. Nothing more.

But the way Gojo stands in front of you now is everything.

As bold and brash as it gets.

Fuck. Me.

And your body betrays you, sending all of the vulnerable sensations you've been fighting to suppress from your soaking chest, tingling wrists, aching thighs, and heavy breath, straight to your throbbing clit.

Air escapes you and you couldn't feel more conflicted, scrambling to grab your supplies and leave.

Enough is enough. The guards outside can restrain him and escort him back to his room for all you care. You just have to get out of there.

Away from him.

Away from temptation.

Hot, overwhelming, guilty, mentally and physically unstable temptation.

In the quiet of the hallway a level below Gojo's ward, you lean against a wall, taking deep breaths and completely disgusted with yourself.

How are you supposed to keep dealing with this, with him?

This force that keeps pushing and pushing and pushing you to the edge until there's nowhere else to go. You can only imagine the hell the nurses he didn't like went through.

Taking care of him isn't getting any easier, and now you were fucking up and making mistakes.

But you're the only one who can do this. Who must.

So suck it up. Play along, Stop thinking only of yourself. Pretend.

Pretend.

Pretend?

...

What terrifies you the most is the thought that you may not have to.

You keep your scrambled thoughts to yourself when you're called into your Director's office at the end of the day.

You tell him the same story you told Yuko and take full responsibility for what happened, blaming it on exhaustion and needing a break. Swearing to never let it happen again.

By some miracle, you get to keep your job, though your one wish to leave early ended up costing you an hour and a half of unpaid overtime, and almost a friendship.

When you finally get home, you collapse onto your bed—images of the day, the ward, and Yuko flooding your thoughts, refusing to be pushed aside. You tell yourself that it's just the guilt talking, just anxiety gnawing at your edges.

But then there's Gojo.

The most prominent one of all.

Staring you in the face with lifeless eyes and a ghostly smile. Tugging on your moral strings like a puppet.

When you close your eyes, you can't shake the feeling that he's waiting for you, a lurker in the shadows watching and anticipating your every move. Have you become predictable? Now you're wondering if you could do something he wouldn't expect.

Leave it. Leave it. Le—

You're scrolling through your phone on a deep-diving, scouring the web for any info on your tormentor.

His past, his affiliations, anything to tell you who Gojo was, and who he is now.

But the man is an anomaly.

Not much is known about him outside of mainstream news and internet rumors.

He's just this guy that kind of popped out of nowhere in the worst way possible, conveniently on the tail of what could have been the most devastating incident in the history of Tokyo.

The media says he's a hero gone rogue but not much else. They've damned him to hell and that was that. Even the Director disclosed very little about him during your briefing and you weren't allowed access to his files or records because it's all 'confidential'.

Nothing.

The more you search, you less that comes up. Not even silly conspiracy theories that you definitely thought would be riddling Reddit. The longer you scroll, the more you find yourself beginning to question your own mind. Your interest. Sweet little buds of obsession.

Even though you hated taking it earlier, you actually need the pill now more than ever to relax as sleep eludes you and your mind wanders to imaginary scenarios as you stare at the ceiling. 

Tomorrow, you'll have to face Gojo again. And the day after that and the day after that and every day after.

In between your nearly non-existent off days, you'll have to see him and decide what face you want to put on.

Because you simply cannot walk away.

After all, he's right—no one else can handle him like you can.

extended angel's note:

when i originally decided to make this into short story, i had no plans on using a y/n perspective. it was just going to feature an OC name i’ve used in stories before, named Persephone, buuuut i decided to wanted to keep it immersive and include no physical descriptors/personality specifics bc i knew i wanted to upload it to tumblr. 

to keep it reader-friendly, yk? 

alas, Persephone has had her claws in me the entire time i’ve been editing and said with her whole chest that i couldn't just dismiss her like that chile. so i decided changed the perspective but keep her name in place of y/n. 

you won’t see it too often in the story bc it’s not super significant or said a lot in general, bUT it is relevant for a certain moment later in the story. you’ll know when you know 🤭. 

anyway, hope it doesn't bother you guys too much. and def feel free to mentally plug your name when you see it to keep yourself grounded into the story.

tag list p.1: @reddiamondjazz @kiwismoother @rune1920 @blkkizzat @suguwife

@xerroe @enthyn @gloomuri671 @ressyshi @startatdawn

@khenanadeche @heijihatsutori @inluvkai @ixqiix @strawnanamilk

@rosso-seta @05-simply-06-simping @sims-4lifers @bratidol @rh-tg1

@hyunsuks-beanie @n1vi @luna-v-roiya @neteyamsluvr111 @supsiii

@natadecoco30 @chiyokoemilia @ririoutspoken @kyoxko @strawberrymilkshakes-posts

@nen-nyy @cinnamorochiroll @kazeniya @maybe7tommorow @sxnkuna

@misoyuh @lupitalove @sebastianlover @gojosatorubrainrot @sleepiebunniee

@mmmidkman @theonecrackhead @thathorsegotpoobrain @iveivory @samistar

@yuuan-66 @gojoslefttoenail @soyalovestoyap @winkwonks-world @thebiggestsimpforyou 

[creekfiend]

I wanted to make a bonsai kitten recovery post that outlines some of the stuff that I've been doing. Because I don't think that you need to ✨see a therapist✨ to start dealing with a lot of this stuff and I get really frustrated when that is the answer that everyone is constantly giving. Firstly a disclaimer, because I know what website I am on: this is a guide for things that have worked for me! I am not everyone and if there are things on here that do not work for you or even that you think are stupid, that is fine, but please do not make it my problem. If you are reading it and you're like "that sounds like it would actually be detrimental to my specific mental health because of my specific issues" then please disregard it. Use your critical thinking skills and do what you think is right for you!

My second disclaimer is that I didn't make any of this up myself; most of these are collected from various places either in therapeutic guide books or various websites about emotional regulation etc. Some of it is stuff that I have extrapolated from those places based on experience with what works for me or does not work for me. A lot of the way that I treat myself when I need to get my body and brain into a place where I can think about stuff productively is actually directly from gentle parenting guides, because frankly cptsd recovery stuff is very often like parenting a toddler. And the toddler is you. ALL THAT SAID,

The first skill that I had to get good at, that many of the other skills depend on, is to learn how to understand when I am Reacting to something. If I am Reacting it is extremely likely that that's going to only escalate the situation and make it much worse. I HAVE to be able to tell if I am Reacting emotionally to something in a way that is coming from a place of fear and panic. This is important because it involves not being prescriptive about your emotions. You could be Reacting to something that you do not logically feel is at all justified in making you feel that way and that doesn't matter! You can't be doing math equations to try to come to the answer of how you SHOULD be feeling; you have to be observing your mind and body to see how you factually ARE feeling and then respond to THAT. This can be really hard to learn how to do especially if you were abused as a child. (If you cannot think of yourself as someone who is abused as a child perhaps it would help to think of yourself as someone who simply was not taught various emotional regulation skills for mysterious reasons that have nothing to do with your parents' inadequacies.) I need to be able to glance inward and see what the physiological reaction that I'm having is and identify whether or not I feel like this is the biggest emergency in the world that needs to be addressed right now immediately! That is a sure sign that Mr Fight and Mr Flight are in the building and it is bad to make declarative statements or important decisions when that is the case. So, I have to work on dismissing them first. That is literally the first step to any of this. One of my friends calls this "fire mittens," which is to say, if you are wearing mittens that are on fire and you try to touch stuff, the stuff will also become on fire. You have to put the fire out first before you can touch other things.

Once I have determined that I am indeed Reacting and in a physiological state of fear, I have a document in my notes app that is a "what to do when you are in fight or flight mode" guide and it has several helpful things that I will try to outline here.

Firstly, the really important thing for me for trying to get back into an emotional state where I'm capable of making decisions and being thoughtful is to feel safe and comfortable. So I actually have some stuff in my document that is straight up just like "go in the blankie nest. put on this specific music album. light this specific scented candle." etc. You might want to have a specific food or drink that is comforting to you or some other sort of stim toy that helps you regulate. If there's any calming medication or supplements for anxiety that you take as needed, now is also the time to do that. Physical sensory grounding is really important for this. This is probably especially true if, like me, you are neurodivergent, but I think it is also true for everyone because we are animals! And you can't just think about it, you have to actually do it. Which sounds obvious but is the thing that has often tripped me up in the past. Once you start getting into the habit of actually physically doing this it DOES become easier though.

One of my rules is that if I want to respond to something but I am in fight or flight mode, I don't get to respond to it for at least 24 hours. I'm only allowed to respond once I've gotten myself out of fear mode. If it is some kind of comment on Facebook that has set me off, often this means that 24 hours later I realize that I actually don't want to get into it to begin with, which is great. If it's something that is pretty serious and interpersonal with a friend, sometimes that means I have to communicate to them that I'm going to take a while to process it and then get back to them. IMPORTANT: You CANNOT do this passive aggressively or else it undermines the whole thing. You can't phrase it in a way that will make your friends think that you are guilt tripping them for "making" you feel a way. It is VERY tempting to do this when you are in the first stages of trying to form this habit and you simply need to resist the urge because it will render this step worthless. I know. It sucks.

If I am feeling fearful and insecure about friends or loved ones, I also usually try to spend some time thinking about the people that I love and care about. Because often this stuff manifest for me as insecurity that the people that I care about do not care about me, or that they think that I'm being annoying, or that they are secretly thinking mean things about me. It's obviously not good for me to constantly be imagining that the people in my life who I care about are actually avatars of my own insecurity who are here to tell me that I'm secretly fundamentally unlovable! But crucially also it's ALSO not fair to those people to imagine them as that. They are not that guy, they are their own complex human beings with their own lives and experiences and interiority. So sometimes I do thought exercises where I will imagine my friends or loved ones doing things in their everyday lives and I will think about them as people and I will think about the things that they like to do and the things that they say and the places that they go, and I will try to imagine them fondly in those circumstances. This helps to remind me that they are just people and that the scary puppet wearing their faces is not real. To this end I sometimes will have a document of screenshots of things that they have said to me that I can use to reality check myself. I personally find reality checks to be essential for a lot of this. Things can feel true when they are not true at all. Things can feel wrong when they are actually true. The point of most of these exercises is to gently remind myself that those feelings are normal for me to be having, but that I do not need to let them dictate my responses.

It is crucial throughout all of this that you are nice to yourself. You can't talk to yourself in a mean way while you're doing this, or you will not get to a point where you are feeling safe enough to react from a place of not-fear. You can't make yourself feel ashamed or defensive for your emotional reactions. This is the particular area where I find gentle parenting protocols helpful. You HAVE to be patient with yourself.

Ok that's all for now bc I ran out of steam but I will try to think of more to add on another day maybe. Godspeed everyone

[unholyverse]

MYSPACE 1.0 THEME REFRESH (originally by conkersradfurday, refreshed by unholyverse)

live previews: 1, 2 / download (pastebin)

hi! i've been using this old theme for years now because other myspace themes don't hit the same, but i've been tweaking a lot of it for personal use. i think it's been long enough since this theme has been abandoned that i can upload something that can handle itself better on modern tumblr.

main features

asks are formatted to look like myspace comments. fun!

four custom links

myspace buttons to follow, message, or block the blog owner

a bunch of info spaces so the world can know what you're about

extra font options

functional search bar (but this is tumblr so...semi functional?)

that web 2.0 ugly goodness

other features + info below the cut

new features

friend space - ever wanna show off your friends? now you can with the friend space to show off your top 8 9 friends on your blog. don't have enough friends? no worries, you can always toggle it off

image space - wanna put a bunch of blinkies somewhere? you'll need to have a bit of html and css knowledge for it, but you can go into the code and add as many images as you'd like. just look for the section and start pasting those images. it's a little tedious but tbh that's just the authentic myspace experience isn't it? but if that's not your thing, you can also toggle it off too.

tweaked/deleted features

had to delete the music player :( sorry but it used flash and i'm not really sure how to make a music player in javascript yet

added username input because it was annoying me that your title could be your name and it didn't make sense in most cases

deleted infinite scroll because the script was super outdated

added the ability to change the "online now!" gif. the original gif will always be in the defaults of the code.

changed the text post header font to verdana because it was impact and you could not fucking read that and it wasn't accurate to a myspace bulletin anyways

deleted the feature that force showed all the pages you made on your blog. so annoying. it will look a little weird if you have asks/submissions deactivated, but i doubt many of you using the theme will have them closed anyways

changed the dead links to redirect to the actual myspace site

extra recommended add-ons

scm music player: a customizable music player with tons of different skins and tons of songs you're able to add

unblue polls by @glenthemes: what it says basically; allows you to customize the colors of tumblr polls on your blog

cursors-4u.com: i love these dinky little cursors they're so fun. great if you really wanna lean into the 2000s aspect of the theme

cursor sparkles: what else is there to say about this they're just fun

notes

i plan on updating the theme semi-regularly if bugs are brought up and stuff (which you can tell me through my inbox)

hopefully i can work on extra tweaks as time goes on (such as figuring out how to add a footer image to videos, toggle tags, etc)

don't repost/claim as your own because it already isn't mine in the first place

like/reblog if you use!

update log

added a tags toggle + tweaked the video post sizes

made the "is in your extended network" status customizable to add different text. feel free to tell the world how many gas station boner pills you took

added an official theme link

[bread--quest]

It's 2012 somewhere. Welcome.... to Night Vale Tumblr.

👁️ nvcr-official

Hi guys! I'm Intern Sarah! Excited to be joining you all!

👁️ nvcr-official

To the friends and family of Intern Sarah, she was a good intern and social media manager, and we are sorry to see her go. We will work to find a new intern as soon as possible.

83 notes

🦉 dark-owl-records

CALL OUT POST FOR CECIL PALMER

hes gotten away with shit for too long and im sick of it. tl;dr horrific intern mistreatment with no compensation, mountain denier, homophobic

keep reading

❌ number-one-moonhater Follow

Hey uh. Aren't you a company account? Why are you posting this

🦉 dark-owl-records

L + ratio + god forbid women do anything + your music taste is trash

🙈 seesomethingsaynothing Follow

Isn't Cecil literally gay?

🦉 dark-owl-records

he's homophobic

🪼 jeebyfish Follow

he has a husband...

🦉 dark-owl-records

yeah and he won't fucking shut up about it

2,500 notes

🤫 cecils-private-blog

Carlos hasn't liked any of my woodcarving posts in THREE DAYS!! I'm so scared what if he's going to break up with me :((

👁️ nvcr-official

Cecil he's your husband he's not breaking up with you. also this isn't a private blog you just put private in the url

🤫 cecils-private-blog

HOW DID YOU SEE THIS

4 notes

🏜️ sandeater Follow

tamika flynn spotted in ralph's dairy aisle "slaying" the milk

🦂 scorpiansscuttle Follow

op i know this is a joke but one time i was in the ralphs dairy aisle and there was some butter up on a really high shelf and someone said "don't worry, i'll get it" and i turned around and it was fucking tamika flynn

☁️ average-weather-enjoyer Follow

fake story :/

📚 isurvivedthesummerreadingprogram

No it's true I was there

🚂 traintonowhere Follow

TAMIKA FLYNN??

🏜️ sandeater Follow

what the fuck is happening on my post

8,345 notes

👁️ nvcr-official

can you guys please stop sending cecil weird shit... i don't want to have to explain to my boss what a dilf is

27 notes

🐚 mariella-shella

Hey guys!! Sorry for the lack of posts recently! I entered a hole in the wall and when I got out I realized I didn't know how long I'd been in there, or where I was, or who I am, and I'm not sure that I'm still the person who entered that hole however long ago. Anyway, the normal posting schedule will resume as soon as I remember what my normal posting schedule was, and if I'm still the person who had that posting schedule!

🌪️ sandstorm-gf Follow

omg mariella!!! missed u so much girl glad ur back!

🐚 mariella-shella

i miss me too

42 notes

😎 Anonymous asked: Response to the homophobic allegations?

🎙️ cecilpalmer

Huh??

🎙️ cecilpalmer

@nvcr-official What does this mean? Is it new slang?

👁️ nvcr-official

uhhhh dont worry about it buddy

50 notes

🧤 missy-mittens Follow

hey guys im in quarantine for eating wheat and wheat byproducts uh...send asks?? i might be in here for a while lmaooo

🧤 missy-mittens Follow

oh lights in the sky its been 5 years since i made this post

☁️ glowcloudapologist Follow

how's it going op

🧤 missy-mittens Follow

i miss my family

506 notes

🐚 mariella-shella Follow

hey if anyone remembers anything about the person running this blog can you tell me? trying to recover the fragments of my identity from the void of memory lol

🥔 potato-enthusiast Follow

you were really hot

🐚 mariella-shella Follow

FUCK YEAHHHHHH

89 notes

🦉 a-weird-bird Follow

just a reminder that new residents of east night vale are fully welcome to interact with this blog!!!! you will not be harassed and any hate will be blocked. this blog is safe even if this town isn't sometimes <3

🌻 sunflowergirl Follow

This is so sweet, thank you so much! Just so you know, even though it's officially called East Night Vale now, a lot of people still call it Desert Bluffs! Just thought you might want to know :)

🦉 a-weird-bird Follow

i'm not calling it that sorry

🌻 sunflowergirl Follow

What??? Why??

🦉 a-weird-bird Follow

just kind of sucks. as a name

🌻 sunflowergirl Follow

?????????

170 notes

🐄

⬜️ kentuckymeatshower_deactivated11051983

what does this mean....

🌌 cece-xeze Follow

another great post from huntokar herself

16,683 notes

🚁 helicopters-in-your-area Follow

🌲 little-miss-ectoplasm Follow

you don't like pine cliff? 👻 oo ooo?

👁️ nvcr-official

NIGHT VALE SWEEEEEP

806 notes

😁 the-happy-smiler Follow

Hi everyone!! Since Twitter went down, I figured I'd try my hand at this Tumblr thing! I'm so excited to meet all of you!! Hope you're ready for some pictures of CENTIPEDES!! Feel free to AMA about the Smiling God!

👁️ nvcr-official

I

🦉 dark-owl-records

N

🎙️ cecilpalmer

T

📚 isurvivedthesummerreadingprogram

E

🙈 seesomethingsaynothing Follow

R

🚂 traintonowhere Follow

L

🦉 a-weird-bird Follow

O

🌌 cece-xeze Follow

P

🐚 mariella-shella Follow

E

🚁 helicopters-in-your-area Follow

R

21,983 notes

[spiderfunkz]

SEND YOU MY LOVE ON A WIRE!

pairings. cho hyun-ju x f!reader

cw. fluff, reader is alternative and plays the bass, no games au.

author's note: guys i don't know anything about instruments okay💔💔 i'm not sure if i did justice for this one, my knowledge for the subculture is very limited but i tried my best.

wandering through the streets of seoul late at night wasn't exactly the plan for cho hyun-ju.

after a long day at work, all she wanted to do was to eat at her favorite restaurant. she could already imagine sipping on the warm hearty soup. unfortunately though, the place was closed for the rest of the week.

now she has found herself staring into the window of a local pub. the music playing gave her a sense of nostalgia and starstruck-ness. the tunes brought a small wave of relief to hyun-ju, no matter how loud it was, it felt empowering.

a band was putting on a show there. hyun-ju was mesmerized by the melody, the genuine emotions it stirred, and also the cute bassist.

but to her luck the band stopped playing rather abruptly.

a rush of muttering and soon shouting came along with it. the band left the pub silently, walking towards the old van parked nearby.

the bassist followed behind them.

this could be the time to start a conversation with her, hyun-ju thinks, she could come up with many topics. it has been a long day, some small talk with a girl couldn't hurt, right?

"excuse me?" her hands awkwardly fidgeted, she wonders if you were even in the mood to talk. her worries were soon brushed off as she was met with a friendly smile.

"hi!" the light reflected on you, hyun-ju noticed your makeup. it looks flawless, everything seemed to compliment your features very well.

"could i help you with something?" your voice was just as angelic as the singer— well, you were in a band, that talent must've lingered for all the members.

hyun-ju's mouth began talking faster than her head could comprehend it, "is it okay if i ask why you stopped playing in there?"

you laugh, "oh yeah, i guess the guy, owner, whatever- was expecting we play something.. softer? i don't know. i'm assuming he didn't read the list of songs we were gonna play."

hyun-ju nods, "i thought it was really nice."

"the guy thought otherwise," you shrug.

"you played very well there, i only heard a bit of it. but you looked very skilled." hyun-ju's voice made it sound like it was more of a statement. she was genuinely in awe of your talent.

"i'm just the bassist, credits should be given to the guitarist or singer if anything."

"but the bass ties it together, no? it controls the rhythm and pace, i think it enhances the tune of the song you were playing," hyun-ju smiles, she hopes she doesn't sound too sheepish or weird, "you brought a nice sense of energy and aura."

her words definitely struck a chord with you.

"what's your name, pretty?" your words caught the woman off guard, "oh, hyun-ju, cho hyun-ju."

"well, hyun-ju, do you want to grab a drink with me?"

"what about your band?" she gestures to the van that has been waiting for you this entire time, "i can handle it. they won't mind too much, besides, we're not gonna play anything else tonight."

hyun-ju nods, excited.

"okay then, i know a spot."

you motion to the van to leave without you, the bass still strapped on your back. hyun-ju's eyes focused on you before giving a small wave to the van driving away.

hyun-ju was wrong. wandering the streets of seoul late at night was the perfect plan. to meet someone as talented and gorgeous as you, she was able to ease off for the night. forgetting all the worries that laced her thoughts earlier today.

the night felt more lively than ever. you got to tell her many things, such as; your love for alternative rock, how you eventually learned the bass, how you met your friends slash bandmates, and how you discovered yourself through the art of music. you got to share your views and perspectives, your makeup routine, your favorite places to play at— hyun-ju listened to every single word that came out of you.

you noticed it. "say, hyun-ju, would you like to go out sometime? grab another drink maybe, or go to a place of your choice?"

"i would love to."

"okay then," you grab a piece of paper and pen hidden in your pocket, you had this planned all along, did you?

"here, give me a call, pretty."

[cjlouwho]

Twelve Christmases

No specific chapter tags

Read below or on ao3. You can also start from the beginning here.

Day 12: 2031

“What are you doing?”

“Shh!” Tommy waved his hand dramatically as he took a very slow, very precise step. “You're going to wake her up, Evan.”

“She's been out like a light for an hour,” Buck reminded him with a smile, “and I've got music playing in her room. So, what are you doing?”

Tommy lifted a foot, showing Buck the bottom of a black, rubber boot. “A little water and flour,” he explained. “I'm making Santa's footprints.”

Buck crossed his arms, leaning against the living room entryway. “It's sixty degrees outside. Where is this snow coming from?”

Tommy sighed. “It's magic."

“You know that's gonna be a nightmare to clean up tomorrow once it dries.”

“It'll be fine.”

“I'll remind you of that when you're scrubbing.”

“I need more,” Tommy said, ignoring Buck's comments as he stood still as a statue in the middle of the living room. “I have a spray bottle in the kitchen, and a plate with flour on it. Bring it to me, please?”

Buck shook his head, but went and got what Tommy needed. “Please tell me you're not stepping your feet into our good dishes,” he whined on his way back, setting the plate on the ground.

“They're new boots. We'll throw it in the dishwasher. Stay down there, spray my shoes.”

“Is this some new type of fetish for you? I know we're not supposed to judge, but...”

“Evan.”

“Okay, okay, I'm spraying.”

After each foot was sprayed and floured again, Tommy resumed his walk until he reached the front door.

“Seems wrong to not have Santa going up a chimney,” Buck said as Tommy carefully took off his boots.

“We don't have a chimney.”

“I could get a photo of Chimney and tape it to the door.”

“I know you're joking,” Tommy said, stepping closer to Buck, “but if you do that I might start committing violent crimes.”

Buck reached out and felt over Tommy's shirt. “You'd look hot in orange,” he decided as he leaned in for a kiss.

“Wait.” Tommy stopped him right before their lips met. He looked down between them, pointing at Buck's foot. “You're dangerously close to stepping on Santa's footprint.”

The moment ruined, Buck patted Tommy's chest. “I'm gonna bring out her presents.”

“I'm going to put these boots in three garbage bags, wash them when she goes to Maddie's on Friday, and give them to George at work on Saturday.”

“Why are you giving George your boots?”

“What do I need giant, black, rubber boots for?”

“Well, why does George need giant, black, rubber boots?”

“Are we really doing this right now, Evan?”

Buck rolled his eyes, raising his hands in surrender. “Getting the presents now.”

“Watch out for the footprints!” Tommy whisper-yelled as Buck headed down the hall.

Buck's only response was a low groan.

*****

The third time Tommy checked the time it was 4:45. He turned from one side to the other, wrapping his arm around Buck's waist.

“You're supposed to be sleeping,” Buck grumbled.

“Sorry.” Tommy pressed a kiss between Buck's shoulder blades. “I'm excited.”

“Really? Couldn't tell.”

Buck stretched out his legs, then turned over to face Tommy. “You know she's gonna be going nonstop once she wakes up. This is your last chance for rest.”

“She's been wanting that bike for months, Evan. And she already knows how to ride without training wheels. Can you believe that?”

“I can.” Buck brought a hand to Tommy's face, gently stroking his cheek. “You taught her well.”

“You ate the cookies, right?” Tommy asked, and Buck couldn't help but grin at him. He looked like such a child, wide eyed and ready to take on the day.

“I ate the cookies.”

“And the milk?”

“I drank the milk.”

“You think the note was okay?” Tommy asked. “It wasn't too wordy, was it?”

“Tommy,” Buck inched forward, pressing his lips against Tommy's. “Her Christmas will be perfect. You've made sure of that.”

“We've made sure of that,” Tommy corrected, giving him another kiss.

Buck ran his hand down Tommy's arm until he intertwined their hands, squeezing tight. “You okay?” he asked. “I know you're excited, but I- I also know Christmas has a lot of not-so-great memories for you.”

That was an understatement if there ever was one. Christmas of 2025 was one of the best for Tommy. Spent with Evan, his family, and the rest of the 118, the entire day was something out of a storybook. It was overwhelming and, once they got home, Tommy found himself sobbing in the bathroom. When Buck found him, Tommy ended up spilling his guts on every past Christmas.

By the time they were done, Buck promised that if he never wanted to celebrate the holiday again, he wouldn't have to.

But Tommy did. It's all he ever wanted, and he had it now, and it was good and terrifying and a lot to wrap his head around.

Then, they got their daughter, and Christmas had been taken up a notch every year since then. Buck always figured he'd be the one to dive head first into holidays, but Tommy quickly took the reigns, and Buck loved every second of it.

“I'm okay,” Tommy assured him.

“You'll come to me later if you get not okay?”

Tommy nodded. “Promise,” he said, wrapping his and Buck's pinkies together.

Buck scooted in as close as he could, closing his eyes as he entangled their bodies.

Just as Tommy thought he might be able to fall back to sleep, he heard the familiar patter of little feet heading toward their door.

“Get ready,” Buck mumbled against his chest.

The door flung open. “Daddy! Papa! Christmas!” She came running to the bed, jumping right on top of her dads.

“Whoa!” Tommy exclaimed, the both of them scooting back to give her space between them. “It's Christmas?!” he questioned.

“Mhm!”

“Are you sure about that?” Buck asked, cocking his eyebrow.

“I'm sure! Presents, please!” She grabbed both of their hands and began tugging. “Please, please, please!”

*****

Tommy got tears in his eyes as he watched his babygirl squeal when she saw Santa's footprints. He became even more misty when Buck helped her read the letter Santa left her. By the time she was tearing open her presents and screaming at the sight of her new bike, Buck had to put a hand on his back and gently rub up and down, soothing him so he wouldn't break down into full sobs right in front of their daughter.

He never tried to hide his emotions from her, but he also knew she wouldn't really understand her dad hyperventilating with happiness because he loved her so much.

“Can I go ride it?!” she asked, already snapping her helmet on her head.

“The sun's not even up yet,” Buck joked, but he knew he wouldn't win this fight. Tommy was already standing, quickly throwing the wrapping paper into a giant trash bag so they could go.

“Please, Daddy!” she begged, her bottom lip poking out.

He laughed. “I bet Papa is willing to take the first bike shift while I get breakfast ready, aren't you?” he asked, looking up at Tommy with a grin.

“Oh, absolutely!” he answered. “Go put on your shoes and grab a jacket, then we'll go.”

As she ran out of the room, Buck stood, wrapping his arms around Tommy. “Breakfast will take about an hour,” he said as Tommy pressed a kiss to his temple. “That enough time?”

Tommy rested his hands at Buck's lower back. “Yup. I'll take her back out after.”

Buck leaned back enough to look into Tommy's eyes. “You still good?”

Tommy nodded. “I'm great, Evan.”

*****

“Alright." Tommy clapped his hands together after making the final adjustments on her helmet. “You got this?”

“I got this!” she yelled, smiling brightly.

She got ready to take off, but stopped suddenly, leaning over and squeezing her arms around Tommy's waist the best she could.

“Oh!” he breathed out in surprise. He squatted down so he could give her a better hug. “What's this for?” he asked.

“For being the bestest papa ever and ever!”

She gave him a smack of a kiss on the cheek and let go, pushing herself forward and taking off on the bike.

Tommy wiped the tears from his face and started to jog behind her, his heart feeling more full than he ever thought possible.

One day, this would all be a distant memory to her. She may only remember bits and pieces, but she would hold in her heart the way her parents made Christmas as perfect as possible.

And whether she chooses to have a family of her own, or spend the holiday with friends that become family, she will pass the traditions on and Christmas will continue to hold a special place in her heart. Filled with good memories of endless laughter and unconditional love.

Juniper Buckley-Kinard was five years old when her Papa unwittingly taught her that sometimes good things last forever.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

The Look of Love.

Synopsis - You, Buck and Eddie are absolutely, undeniably, head over heels in love with each other. It seems like everyone can see it except for the three of you.

Pairing - Evan Buckley x Female Reader x Eddie Diaz

Warnings - none!! just idiots in love.

Word Count - 1k

Author's Note - oh my buddie heart was bursting while writing this. whenever I watch 911, I always think about how easy it'd be to be friends (or more than) with eddie and buck. and then this was born!! hope you enjoy reading this sweetness as much as I enjoyed writing it <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

Buck twirls you around, strong arms circling your waist. Your feet don't touch the ground as he spins you, the skirt of your dress billowing in the breeze. You lean back in his hold, and catch sight of Eddie throwing Christopher up in the air, both of them laughing.

Buck puts you down and grins at you, Cheshire cat smile bright and blinding. You smooth your hands across his chest, flattening out his crisp white dress shirt where you've crinkled it. You tug at his bow tie, straightening it gently. Your gaze meets his, and you beam at him.

"Have I told you how handsome you look tonight, Evan Buckley?" you tease, wrapping your arms around his neck to sway with him. There's a smooth, jazzy melody echoing through the huge backyard, illuminated by golden, twinkling lights.

He quirks a brow at you cheekily before answering.

"I wouldn't mind hearing it again."

"I'm sure you wouldn't," you laugh, shrieking as he dips you backwards quickly.

"Well, you look very handsome. I like you in a tux."

You swear you see him blush slightly, heat creeping across his cheeks. He finds his confidence again, sliding his hands across the exposed skin of your back slowly.

"You are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen," he tells you sincerely, eyes never leaving yours. "I should tell you that more often."

"Yes, you should," you tease, grinning at him.

You take notice of his smile, his relaxed shoulders, the way he's swaying with you effortlessly.

"You love weddings, don't you?"

"Hell yeah I do!" he replies delightedly. "Everyone I love all in one place, dancing, music... what more could you want?"

You can't wipe the smile off your face. He's right. The entire 118 is here, together as a family. Everyone is happy, excited to be celebrating Bobby and Athena's vow renewal. It's not often you all get to leave work at work and enjoy yourselves completely. You plan to make the most of every single second.

You feel two warm hands find your hips from behind, instantly leaning back into the broad chest behind you, knowing who it is immediately.

"Hola, Mr Diaz."

"Hola, hermosa."

"You gonna keep her all to yourself all night, Buckley?" he asks, wrapping his arms around you, over the top of where Bucks are already resting. You're sandwiched between the two of them, completely content.

"We were avoiding you and your terrible dance moves," Buck jokes, the three of you swaying together now.

"Are you hearing this?" Eddie asks incredulously, chuckling into your ear. "My terrible dance moves?"

"Don't listen to him, Eds. His ego lies to him."

"It's called confidence! Sorry if I have faith in my dance moves!"

The three of you laugh, bodies and souls tangled and intertwined on the dance floor.

Across the backyard, Chimney and Hen are sat at their table, watching you, Buck and Eddie move to the music, arms wrapped around one another.

"They really love each other, don't they?"

"Oh, yeah," Hen laughs. "Wish they'd all just admit it."

Chimney looks at his best friend in confusion, brows quirked and face crumpled.

"... What?"

"Oh, come on, Chim," Hen chuckles. "It's twenty twenty three. Get with the program."

"You mean, like, love love," Chim confirms, still puzzled.

"Yes, Howie. Love love. In love. The three of them are completely in love."

Chimney processes for a moment, before a light bulb goes off in his head.

"Oh, shit!" he laughs. "They totally are!"

"Damn, men are oblivious. How am I the only one that's noticed?"

"You aren't," Bobby and Athena say in unison, pulling out chairs to sit at the table.

"But we can't rush them. Good things like this take time," Athena offers.

Bobby glances over at the dance floor. You're holding Buck and Eddie's hands, and Chris is too, the four of you dancing and laughing. He smiles for moment, before speaking.

"You know they basically live together?"

When he's met with confused faces, he continues.

"They all crash at Eddie's place with Christopher so often, they've practically moved in. Buck hasn't slept in his own apartment in months."

"I mean, how do you even... navigate something like that? The three of them? It's so complicated," Chimney asks genuinely.

"They'll figure it out," Bobby assures. "They always do."

With that, he rises from his chair and across the yard. He scoops Christopher up into his arms, promising him cake and soda, much to Eddie's dismay. He winks at Buck before carrying Chris away, leaving the three of you alone.

Eddie surprises you by grabbing your hand and then Bucks, pulling you both away from the crowd.

"Come on. I wanna show you something."

He leads you up and into the guest bathroom of the house, rolling his eyes at you and Bucks suggestive comments. He's first to climb out the window and onto the roof, making sure you get through safely in your dress.

The three of you sit and watch your friends in the yard below, quietly reflecting. You're suddenly aware of the way you're sandwiched in between them again, thighs pressed together. You lean left and rest your head on Eddie's shoulder, interlinking your right hand with Bucks.

"How lucky am I?" you breathe. "To be surrounded by so much love."

Eddie rests his head atop of yours, smiling as he watches Buck lean in to rest his on your shoulder. The three of you exhale.

"We're the lucky ones," Buck murmurs. "I never thought I'd have this."

"Well you do," Eddie reassures. "And we're not going anywhere, Buckley."

"He's right, Buck. We're not going anywhere. Ever."

Evan sits up to kiss you on the cheek, before leaning over you and doing the same to Eddie.

The three of you sit on the roof, bodies and souls intertwined, illuminated by the moonlight. How lucky you are, to be surrounded by so much love.

[voxmortuus]

Hi! May I ask number #9 ☆ { holding } their shoulders for stability with Ben Leonard? I'm so in love with Ben! It's a crime there is nothing with him :( Thank you so much! ♡

⇘ PAIRING:⇙ Ben Leonard x F!Reader ⇘ UNIVERSE:⇙ Savages ⇘ WORD COUNT:⇙ 495 ⇘ TRIGGER WARNINGS:⇙ Smut from behind | P-i-V | PWP | Rough quickie in the kitchen | Maybe a broken dish or two, but surely not his favorite coffee cup | Shoulder gripping | Internal Finish | PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT ANYTHING!!! I want to make sure readers are fully aware of what they are getting themselves into when they read this… ⇘ NOTES:⇙ Sorry if this is total ass... but I hope this brings you some joy. Prompt from this list. Also side note Anon... if you're meaning anything else with Ben... well, no there is nothing else with this character, but if you mean the actor... I think you need to look up the cast of Savages because there is a ton of Aaron Taylor-Johnson out there. I hope you find more of his work you enjoy!! ⇘ DIVIDER CREDIT:⇙ @nyxvuxoa ⇘ IMAGE CREDIT:⇙ @nyxvuxoa ⇘ My Master Masterlist ⇙ ⇘ My Aaron Taylor-Johnson Masterlist ⇙

With a gasp you grab at what you can, feeling your skirt hiked up around your waist, you bite your lip, realizing there's nothing to grab, he thrusts himself into you with a force. Wimpering you accidently knock a dish off the counter, the plate breaks, nothing to worry about. But he moves that cup so you don't break his favorite cup. His thrusts are hard, they're fast, and they're with a sense of mission.

You don't quite care, you have the same idea in mind, and truthfully, this was your fault, you asked for it, teasing him unforgivingly. He warned you the moment you walked through that door he'd bend you over and he did just that. With each bare cocked thrust, came a whimper, the sound of skin thrusting and slapping against each other caused you to wimper a little more. Biting your lip you smile against the tightness of that lip bite.

There were no words that needed to be exchanged between you two other than a few escaped fucks. Your hand looses grip on the tile counter top and slips again, knocking off a cup. He snarls. Thrusting a little harder he's gripping at your hips but it just isn't enough. It's not the right angle, he can't get that perfect thrusting stability.

His hands snake up your back as he grips at your shoulders. Not only will this stop you from breaking his dishes, it will also give him a deeper penetration, and better momentum. With each thrust, you moan louder, filling that kitchen. Knowing this won't last for hours like you two usually do, you cherish this rough quickie with Ben. At times, you love when he gets rough and man handles the fuck out of you. At the same time, you love his soft, tender passionate side.

Gripping into your shoulders you bite your lip a little harder the faster he goes. Your moans and wimpers and become more frequent, your breaths become more shaky, your sounds are like music to this stoners ears. Your jaw slacks, your eyes flutter and that pressure quickly builds. Feeling as his pace quickens even more, you can tell he's about to bust himself. So maybe the pace was perfect.

A clench of your jaw, a harder grip on your shoulders, firmer thrusts, quicker pace, louder moans and grunts. Before you both know it, that quickie, was just that, a quickie, and your dripping all over the floor, from both of you. Biting your lip, you chuckle. Feeling as he slows his pace before pausing a moment and slipping from between your folds.

Once you take a moment to breath, you stand up, feeling the mess start to slip down your legs, you turn around and look at him with a smirk, he looks at the floor then to you and hands you the broom and dustpan. You chuckle, nod, and proceed to clean up your mess... in more than one way.

[byechristopher]

⠀

I hate you, too.

– CHRIS STURNIOLO SMUT.

Author's note: okay so, I was listening to Les – Childish Gambino, and this idea came to mind because uhm, I love Chris, I love parties, I love angry, messy, toxic sex. So, sue me. I got carried away so, super long. Do not copy/steal my work. :)

Warnings: this, once again, is pure filth. Super long, didn't proof-read so fml, angry & rough sex, toxic sex, slapping, choking, semi-public. Just a mess. Minors dni!

The lights are so damn bright in here, I can see blue, red, purple, all kinds of colors, everywhere. Not that I'm really complaining, this place is so dark that I can barely see anything – only when the lights flash. I can see people everywhere, their silhouettes, dancing, kissing, drinking.

I quickly pour myself a drink, making sure I'm keeping it safe in my hand; I haven't been in a house party in ages. But I remember how messy they get, I know everyone will pass out at some point. I'm trying to search my friend group with my eyes but it is almost impossible – how big is this goddamn house?

"Hi! You made it!" a friend screams when she sees me and I smile. I try to greet everyone but my eyes meet someone's face that I really didn't want to see here. My ex.

"What is he doing here?" I groan, turning to glare at my friend.

"I'm sorry, babes, he literally just came. I texted you. He's friends with the host, Jake, I didn't know." she has an apologetic face and I check my phone to realise she did text me about it. Fucking hell.

I can feel his blue eyes on my body, burning it like daggers on fire. I try to avoid him as much as possible and the fact that he looks this good, doesn't make it very easy. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his jeans and I can't help but steal a few glances. He's already looking at me. He's smirking.

Fucking asshole.

"Hi, pretty." he is next to me now, dangerously close to me, as I take a sip of my drink.

"What do you want, Chris?" I roll my eyes.

"That's not how you treat your ex." he scoffs, looking around playfully before looking at me again. I turn my head to look at him, too.

"Let's not open that topic here." I try to push him away, his body doesn't really move.

"I agree. Let's talk about the car sex we had a few days ago." he smiles and you would think he's talking about the most innocent thing. His hands still in his pockets, he looks cool and unfazed by my angry glare.

"Shut the fuck up, Chris. Don't you have anywhere else to go, anything else to do?" I yell. Now I'm facing him, my body turned towards him.

"I'd like to do you." he comes closer to my ear and I sigh, downing my drink before turning my back on him. I am afraid I won't be able to hold myself back this time either.

"Well, I don't."

"Yeah?" his chin is touching my shoulder and I can feel his jeans pressed against my butt, "so if I touched you now, you wouldn't be wet?" he hums.

I am not wet. I am dripping. But that doesn't mean anything, right.

"You're not allowed to touch me anyway." I dodge his fucking question.

"Well, you weren't saying that when you were pressed against the car door." he chuckles, "you're wet, then." he whispers but it's enough for me to hear.

"Not for you. Maybe for your friend, Jake." I smirk, knowing this will stop his attack. He's always been extremely jealous. So have I.

"Fuck you." he almost growls in my ear, but the smirk still stays on. He turns me around and as soon as he says that, one of our favourite songs starts to play. Les by Childish Gambino, "fuck you.. can I have this dance?"

I can't help but chuckle a little, which I try to hide immediately. The timing, the line he used from the song, this songs specifically, him. Fucking Chris.

I quickly grab him and drag him in the center of the room that we're in, he holds onto my hand tightly and brings me closer, pressing my back against his chest. We dance to the music, he's not moving much but I can tell he's enjoying the little show I put on for him. My butt is pressed against him then whole time and I can feel the bulge in his jeans. Good.

I turn around and continue to dance with him, my hands traveling to his back to grip his shirt and pull him as close as possible. The part in the song that we love the most comes on and he cups my cheeks, pressing his forehead against mine as he looks into my eyes. We're both singing the lyrics.

"Oh, girl, I wanna know, are you ready to cry? 'Cause I'm no good, no good.." his playful smile never leaves his face.

"Oh, girl, I wanna try, I'm an awful guy and I'm always away.." my lips curl up into a playful smirk as well, my hands sneak under his shirt and I dig my nails into his lower back.

"And I'm tryin' to say, I'm a piece of shit.." he stops singing and the next second, he's kissing me. I fucking hate myself for kissing him back as hungrily as I did.

He grabs my hand and makes me follow him – nothing else matters, as the song says. Only us. We practically run up the stairs and I see a wooden door, he seems like he knows this place. My friend did tell me he's friends with the host.

He opens the door and then locks it once we're inside the room. It's a bathroom, not very big and the light is so dim, I'm not sure if it is there to match the party's vibe or if this dude just doesn't like actual lighting in the house. We don't waste anytime – Chris picks me up and sets me down on the counter next to the sink, my dress rides up just enough for him to move closer, pushing my legs apart with his body. We can still hear the music from here.

I take his shirt off immediately, throwing it somewhere behind him before wrapping a finger around his chain, pulling him closer for yet another hungry kiss. He grabs the hem of the dress to push it up, my skin meeting the cold counter but it is soon replaced by Chris' large hands. He squeezes my butt, pushing me forward so that his bulge rubs against me. He sneaks a hand in between us, his fingers rubbing my soaked panties.

"Is this for Jake, hm?" he grabs my bottom lip in between his teeth, biting it roughly.

"Maybe." I moan, leaning forward to take his nipple in my mouth, flicking it with my tongue.

He moans, "why are you here then?" he puts pressure on my clothed pussy and let go of his nipple, throwing my head back.

"Fuck off." I groan, moving my hips so that I'm rubbing myself on his fingers.

"You're dying to have my dick inside of you." he whispers, chuckling.

"And you're dying to have me in any way you can." I push him away, jumping off the counter and quickly pulling his jeans down together with his Calvin Klein boxers, "isn't that why you keep following me around, hm?" spitting on my own hand, I grab his dick, rubbing up and down while staring into his eyes the whole time. They're filled with lust, anger, passion. He moans.

"Fuck off." he groans this time, his head falls on my shoulder as I jerk him off, both of his hands grab the counter on each side of me. He thrusts into my hand.

All of a sudden, he slaps my hand away and turns me around, making me press both of my hands on the mirror in front of us, pushing my lower back down so that I arch my back and spread my legs. His hands are on my breasts now, pushing my dress now so that they're free for him to see and touch. With one hand he pushes the dress up to reveal my ass as well, the dress now only covering my stomach and a small part of my back. I don't dare to move, I only watch him as he pulls my panties down – he spreads my ass and spits, not that he needed that, I'm already dripping.

"What the fuck are you waiting for?" I groan, pushing my back against him.

"Beg for it." he slaps my ass a few times as he smirks.

"Chris, fucking hell. Fuck me already." I say but he's not pleased. He slaps my skin again and I groan, gently hitting the mirror out of frustration. His cock rubs against my clit and I lose it, "fucking.. Chris! Please, fuck me. I want you inside me." I whine. He smiles. Thank fuck.

He finally pushes inside of me and my eyes roll to the back of my head as I look at him in the reflection of the mirror. He pushes his cock all the way inside me and grabs my hair in a ponytail, wrapping it around his hand to push me back every time he thrusts in.

"Fuck.. fuck.." I moan, licking my fingers before dragging them down my body to rub my clit, always looking at him, as he fucks me roughly. My fingers touch his dick every now and then, it makes him moan a little louder. He leans forward to sink his teeth into the skin of my shoulder as he watches me cry out in both pain and pleasure – with his free hand, he grabs my hand that was rubbing my clit, bringing to his mouth to lick the juices off my fingers. I almost cum.

My breasts bounce with every movement, he thrusts into me and I push back against him. He pulls out of me and I curse under my breath. He turns me around and places me on the countertop again, wrapping an arm around my waist as he guides his dick so that he can start fucking me hard again. I grab a fistful of his hair, tugging it harshly when he pushes into me; it makes him lightly slap my cheek before wrapping his fingers around my neck, choking me. I gasp and slap him back, grabbing his throat with my hand, too.

"I fucking hate you." I moan, his eyes staring into mine.

"Yeah.. turns me on.. love it." he moans and smirks, and that's all it takes for me to come closer to my high.

"Chris.. Chris.. I'm gonna.." I whine and he lets go of my neck, hugging me close and pressing his forehead against mine as I let go of his neck as well.

"That's it, baby.. fuck.. will you cum for me? Hm?" he says and that's closest thing to affection that we showed tonight. I nod and moan loudly, holding onto him as tight as I can. I cum, trembling, and he does the exact same thing, moaning my name over and over again.

We stay like this for God knows how long – he's still inside of me and I almost pass out in his arms, his hand rubs my back soothingly.

"You okay?" he whispers, as if it was a crime to be affectionate with each other again. We used to be together after all.

"Yes.. you?" I whisper back, the feeling of not wanting to let go of him just yet comes back and I try to push it away as fast as I can.

"I am okay, yes." he mumbles and after letting me know, he slowly pulls out of me, earning a wince from me, "sorry." he mutters.

"Do you want me to take you home?" he says and I sigh. This is wrong.

"It's best if you don't." I whisper, looking at him and I can see the vulnerability in his eyes too.

"That's true." he nods and fixes my dress, pushing his boxers and pants up right after.

"I still hate you." I mutter. I don't want him to leave.

"Yeah." he wears his shirt, he grabs my chin and leaves a sweet kiss on my lips, "me too."

And with that, he leaves.

⠀

[innorogers]

Insomnia

Steve Rogers x OFC (You)

Summary: You couldn't sleep, and Steve neither. So you want to help him with a bedtime story. And he wants you forever.

Note: This is the first chapter of a series, but can be read as independent story. Links at the end of this chapter :)

To say you couldn't sleep is an understatement. You quite literally couldn't even close your eyes for the past few nights. 

It's not something you can control; your brain just works like this: challenges at work are the adrenaline that rushes to your mind, and it just won't calm down. 

So, a 13-hour shift wasn't enough to tire you out; insomnia hit so hard that you decided to head down to the training room to try to drain all your energy.

As you made your way down the stairs, you could hear the distant thudding of fists against a punching bag. 

Upon pushing the door slowly open, you weren't surprised to be met with Steve...without punching gloves.

God, you felt for those knuckles. How can this man be so careless with himself? Not that you have any say in that, of course.

You nodded as he turned around, surprised to see anyone at this hour.

"Cap." you said respectfully, with a tiny voice, looking at the floor as if there's anything wonderful there.

Steve walked over, sweat glistening across his forehead and cheeks, his shirt clinging to his now drenched chest.

"Oh, hi..." He smiled upon seeing you, grabbing a towel from the bench and wiping the sweat from his face. "It's late, what are you doing here?"

"Um..." You didn't think he would talk with this familiarity, but you smiled back. "I couldn't sleep, um...so I just thought I'd try to train myself."

"Ah...insomnia, right?" Steve chuckled slightly, grabbing a bottle of water and taking a few swigs. "I used to suffer with it quite badly too. I used to go to bed and just...stare at the ceiling all night."

"Oh my god." Your reaction was real. "That sounds...terrible."

Steve nodded and slumped down on the bench, leaning back as he took another sip of water. "It is...the only way I got around it was to exhaust myself before bed, but I'm sure you don't need me telling you that."

That statement struck you a little bit. You couldn't help but feel so bad for him. "Cap...that sounds draining. Have you been like that, since...always?"

Steve nodded once again, his hand running through his hair and pushing it back. "Unfortunately, been like it as long as I can remember. I only recently started trying to control it - the army didn't exactly care much about my sleeping patterns..."

"What?" Now you were horrified. "That's so awful. I'm so sorry."

"Hey, don't worry about it. It's alright," Steve reassured with a small smile, his eyes locking with yours for a moment. "I'm used to it. Plus, the army needed me to be the best I could, even if that meant I had to run on 0 hours of sleep."

"Wait, what? Steve, I meant, Cap...that's, that's not right!"

Steve chuckled softly and looked down at his feet for a moment. "Yeah...yeah, I guess it isn't." He was quiet for a moment before looking back up at you with a small smile. "I appreciate the concern, though."

You felt your cheeks were starting to burn, so you looked down again. "Have you tried any pills?" you asked as you watched yourself reflected in the mirror. Oh, you looked so stupid with your gym gear. What were you even doing with a towel and a bottle of water?

Steve nodded, scratching his temple slightly with his thumb. "I've tried just about everything: pills, sleep therapy, meditation, music, literally everything you could think of to help me sleep. I can maybe get 3 hours of sleep max, but that's if I'm absolutely exhausted."

You looked at him. You couldn't believe it. This man, you saw him in and out every day from this campus. He went out so energized, and came back full of scars and wounds, and he couldn't even get some quality rest.

You couldn't help but approach him, your voice as soft as you ever knew it: "Is there anything I can do to help?"

He paused for a moment, looking at you with a quizzical look for a few seconds before his lips quickened up into a small smile. "I mean...there is one thing I could think of..."

"What?"

"Sit next to me." Steve patted a space on the bench beside him, a small smirk on his face and a twinkle in his eye. "Keep me company."

"Sure." 

You didn't even doubt it, and you sat next to him, thinking you were willing to talk for 60 hours in a row if that's what it took to get this man to sleep. 

"Wanna talk about it?"

Steve leaned back against the bench, resting his hands on the metal beside him as he tilted his head slightly to look at you. "There's not much to talk about. My mind just...won't switch off."

"Hmm...maybe, a bedtime story?"

Steve laughed incredulously at the idea, the noise coming from his chest filling the silent room. He found it extremely amazing that he hadn't heard his own laughter like that in a long time.

"A bedtime story? Don't you think I'm a little old for that? I think last time I heard one was… 96 years ago?"

"Well..." God, his laugh was just...magical. You smiled back as your heart melted. "You never know, right?"

Steve chuckled softly once more, his head tilting back as he looked up at the ceiling, a smirk on his face. "You know what...sure. I'll take a bedtime story."

"Alright..." You started laughing too, your frenzied brain starting to do its thing: spinning really fast. 

"Here I go..."

Steve shifted so he was facing you more, leaning forwards with one elbow on his knee. His face was expectant albeit a little amused, and he wondered what kind of a bedtime story you were going to tell.

"Once upon a time, there was a super soldier..."

Steve raised an eyebrow, a small chuckle escaping his lips at the start of the story. "Alright...a super soldier...continue."

"...Who couldn't sleep, so he ran every night up to the hill and asked a fairy living there: 'Hey, little princess, why can't I sleep?' And the fairy replied: 'Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. Is it because the stars are too shiny?' And the soldier looked up at the sky full of stars and shrugged his shoulders: 'Probably...?'"

Steve’s lips formed a soft curve at the beginning of the story, his smile growing with each sentence. 

"How do you know this story?"

You winked at him. "I'll tell you that at the end. “

“So...the fairy thinks about it for a second and says: Well, maybe I can help you. And she goes up, up, up in the sky and starts to collect all the stars one by one, but there are so many of them! And she's so anxious because she wants the super soldier to get some sleep before the army calls...you know, those dumbasses..."

Steve's head tilted back once again as he laughed out loud, shaking his head at the ludicrous but somehow lovely story that was being told, and for some unknown reason, it was making him feel slightly relaxed. 

"That's a lot of stars, huh?"

"Yup..." you heard your voice, and you noticed your joy in making him happy or bringing a little peace to his mind. 

You continued, "So the fairy gets a brilliant idea: 'I'll call every kid on the planet and ask them to wish upon a shiny star, so the stars will fall, and every kid is happy with their wishes granted, and the sky is darkened, and the super soldier gets some sleep.'"

"Every kid? How would they all know to wish upon a star?"

"Because..." You looked at him as if saying, 'duh dude...'

"That's what kids do, didn't you wish upon a star? Ever?"

"Well…I'm not sure I ever did...I…really don’t remember..." He sighed nostalgically.

You looked at him. You wanted to say, "Me neither," but instead, you just responded in a comforting voice, "Well...If you don't sleep tomorrow either, I promise you, I'll go and fetch a star for you."

Steve smiled back at you, your words sending a strange yet warm feeling through his heart. 

"You'd go as far as stealing a star for me?"

And your damn brain worked so fast you didn't even think about what you were saying.

"I'll get every star in the universe for you if you'd ask."

Steve's breath hitched in his throat, there was a strange feeling through his stomach and slightly increasing his heart rate. 

He was quiet for a moment, just looking at you before he spoke again, his own words surprising him. 

"Do you promise...you'd get them all?"

Your heartbeat just stopped at that glance of his, but you nodded. 

"Yes, I do."

Steve took another moment to compose himself, a wonderstruck hitted him as he looked you in the eyes. He was searching your face for any hint of sarcasm or lies, but all he could see was what looked like true honesty. 

"You make a powerful promise...you sure you can keep it?"

You laughed. "What, you don't believe me?"

At the sound of your laugh, Steve's breath hitched in his throat, the noise stirring something deep within him which he attempted to push down. But it was so strong.

"It's not that...I just don't want you to promise something you can't keep."

"I'll keep it." He probably didn't know it, but you were actually vowing, "Every word of it." You replied in a soft voice.

There it was again, that tickle through Steve's stomach. Butterflies everywhere. They came from the air that he breathed, through his chest, to his entire body. 

He smiled at you, a genuine smile that reached his eyes, and for the first time in a very long time, Steve actually believed someone when they promised him something. 

"I'm holding you to that, you know."

You got lost in his eyes. God, there’s an entire ocean in his eyes. You held your tongue before you said that, so you cleared your throat. "I haven't finished my story."

Steve shifted once again to face you, a smile still present on his face. "Continue...tell me the rest of the story."

"So the fairy gets all the stars of the sky to fulfill the kids' wishes, and the sky finally darkens. She goes back to the soldier, but before arriving, she went to heaven and borrowed some feathers from the wings of the most beautiful angel. 'It's for a kid that can't sleep,' she explains to the angel, and with the feathers and her fairy magic, she makes the most comfortable pillow in the world. And only then, she goes back to the soldier and gives him the pillow: 'There, you will have a good sleep, honey.' And so, the soldier finally gets some rest. The end."

Steve listened to the rest of the story intently, that strange feeling in his stomach returning as waves of a tide.

Damn butterflies. Now they even left a trace of golden glitter shiny things.

He wants those butterflies to stop, but he fails, his eyes locking with yours. "You are good...you are a truly excellent storyteller, you know that?"

"I know, right?" You laughed, and also lowered your voice. "But I'll tell you a little secret."

He chuckled as he leaned back against the bench, arms crossed across his chest. As he was trying to hide something, to push back on something. To take distance. 

"A secret? I like the sound of that."

"You're my only and first audience."

Steve cocked an eyebrow, his smirk returning and his arms uncrossing. "You mean this is the first time you've even told someone that story?"

"Or any story."

Steve's eyes widened at your words, the smirk on his face growing even more. 

"You've never told a story before...like, ever?"

"Ever."

Steve chuckled softly at your response, shaking his head slightly. "You mean to tell me that ever since you were a kid, you've never told another person a story? Not even when you were little?"

You were going to say something, but kept quiet and smiled.

Steve was quiet for a moment before looking at you. 

"Most people tell everyone stories...they don't save up a story for years and years and years to tell just one person...just one?"

You blinked at him. "It's only for super soldiers who can't sleep at night, and you are the first one I've met. But...if you happen to know any other super soldier who is also a superhero and also happens to be...you know, Captain America, the greatest avenger of all times...tell him I have a great bedtime story to share with him in case he can't sleep and is training in the tower at this time of the night...otherwise...then yes, you are the only one."

Steve couldn't help but laugh at your response, the sound filling the room once again and that pang through his stomach returning. He ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head as he looked at you, a smirk on his face. 

"I'll let you know if I see any super soldiers around."

"Tell him that's a hell of a bedtime story."

Steve chuckled again, his smirk growing wider as he gave you a nod. "You think he'll like it?"

"I don't know, what do you think?" you shrugged your shoulders.

Steve paused, his eyes locking with yours and that feeling in his stomach returning once again. 

He slowly licked across his lips and was quiet for a moment before answering. 

"I think he'll like the story...I think he'll like it a lot..."

You paused for a long moment before you moved your sight out of the window. 

"Well, that would make me very happy, you know?"

Steve smiled back at you, that warm feeling in his stomach slowly spreading through his entire body. There was something about you that he just couldn't quite put his finger on - you made him feel strangely relaxed yet on edge all at once, and he couldn't quite explain it.

"Why?"

"Because..." Your response was honest and sincere. "I don't know, I guess...I guess I just wish all the good things for him."

Steve was silent, his eyes not able to move from your face as he listened intently. It was at this moment that strange pang in his chest became so prominent that it almost knocked the breath out of him. 

Your words were simple, yet they made his heart flutter. He didn't understand why, but he suddenly felt something he hadn't felt in years, a feeling so strong and overpowering yet so gentle.

Steve smiled, his voice coming out as nothing more than a whisper. 

"You...you really care about him...huh?"

You stayed quiet. This was weird, he was asking, yet you felt that those questions came from some kind of reflexive thought, that it was your inner voice asking you. 

So you answered, "I do. A lot."

Steve didn't say anything for a moment, the way you answered so quickly and so honestly made all hesitations and doubts disappear. He is not fighting anymore against it. He found himself looking at you intently, almost as if he were trying to read you. 

His heart rate slowly rose, and those butterflies flew and flew in circles all around within him.. 

He suddenly remembers that he didn't even know your name. You’re such a dumbass, Rogers. Captain America is just an excuse, this is the REAL reason you don’t get dates over 100 years. He tells himself. Could you be more stupid?

"I don’t even know your name." He says in an apologetic tone.

"I'm..." You thought about it and decided to go with your real name, not the one you were known for. 

Steve repeated your name silently to himself, letting it roll off his tongue and hearing the way it sounded as it left his lips. 

He paused for a moment, his face softened with a slight smile as he was saying a breathtaking thought.

"Beautiful name..."

"Thanks." And you blinked at him. "And you are...?"

A subtle laugh flickered on his face at your joke before replying, "Well...you probably know my name already, but...I'm Steve, Steve Rogers."

Your heartbeat skipped a dozen paces, but you played it cool. "I like your name too."

Steve's eyes widened at your words. He hesitated and tilted his head slightly, letting his hair fall into his eyes as he spoke gently. "You're not going to call me 'Cap' or 'Captain America'?"

"Do...do you prefer it?"

A flicker of amusement crossed Steve’s face: "No...I'd prefer it if you just called me Steve...or Stevie."

"Does...anyone dare to call you Stevie?"

Steve chuckled, "No...no one dares, no...but I think I'd be willing to let you get away with it..."

"Alright then, only because you've asked."

Steve's smile widened, a small laugh escaping his throat in response to your comment. He found himself taken aback by the unexpected emotions stirring within him. Every passing moment made him more drawn towards you, captivated by your presence. 

He couldn't comprehend why he was suddenly feeling so at ease, as if he had known you for a lifetime instead of minutes.

It was like homecoming. Instead of greeting for the first time.

Steve sat up straight again, his eyes not leaving your face. He took another moment, gathering himself and taking a breath before speaking, his voice went as gentle and as low as ever. 

"Can I tell you something?"

His gentle voice gave you goosebumps. 

"Is it a secret?"

Steve chuckled nervously, his hands suddenly becoming sweaty and palms slightly clammy, his heart starting to pound against his chest. He shifted slightly so that he was even closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. 

"Hmm, yeah, I guess you could call it a secret..."

"Will I ever be tortured by enemies trying to know this secret?"

Steve laughed, shaking his head and leaning back once again, but still staying close to you. 

"No...no, you won't get tortured, I promise...it's just, something I just want to share with you and only you..."

"Oh, in that case...I better promise I won't tell...You've made me promise a lot of things tonight, Steve."

Steve smiled but noticed that his hands were becoming even more sweaty as he thought, and that his heart was racing like a teenager. 

"Can I...can I lean a bit closer to you for a second?"

Your body literally was screaming to get closer to him, your brain was sending some kind of alert sign, and your heart was about to jump off your chest. So you were practically a mess. You could only do as you were commanded.

“Sure.”

Steve shuffled even closer to you, his leg slightly touching yours, the feeling of just sitting so close to you creating a small burst of electricity through his body. He suddenly realized that he could feel your body heat and how much he was desperate to get even closer, to feel that warmth directly against him.

He took another deep breath before speaking, his voice still as low and as gentle as a whisper, but the butterflies within him were entering in a frenetic dance.

"I'm gonna lean even closer than this, alright?"

No, it is not alright because your heart was going to burst, but could you ever say no to him? 

"Alright." You nodded, unable to move your eyes from his.

Steve inhaled deeply at your response, his body almost aching to be even closer. He leaned in, his leg now firmly pushed against yours, his own body heat mixing with yours.

He was suddenly nervous, the words he wanted to say on the tip of his tongue. He took another deep breath, swallowing and licking across his lips before speaking once again in that same, low, gentle voice. 

"Can I come even closer?"

You held your breath, barely nodded. Just move, MOVE!

Steve didn't need you to say anymore. His body was now fully pressed against yours, his breath catching as he took in your scent. God, you smelled like fresh grass after rain. It was driving him wild.

His head was next to yours, his cheek mere millimeters from your skin, like willow leaves resting on the water, creating ripples through your heart.

"Closer?"

Your mind was blurred. "Please."

That one word was all it took. Steve realized how much he wanted you. He shifted, lifting his leg onto the bench so he was almost sitting next to you, his chest and hips now pushed against you. 

He could feel the heat from your body through his own and he got it, what was that wonderstruck homecoming sensation he had: he never wanted to be without it.

"Is this close enough?" he murmured, his voice nothing but a whisper.

You sighed, your heart pounding in your chest. With a determined look, you put your hands on his face, tracing gentle lines with your fingers.

You looked at him, your gaze holding his, as if you could see forever into his soul.

"No. If you don't mind. I'd like to be closer."

Steve's breath caught, his body burning with desire. He shifted closer, pressing against you, his pulse quickening. You felt his heat, his warmth, his desperate need, and you surrendered to it.

His breaths became shallower now, that strange feeling almost overwhelming within him. 

"How about now?"

"Well...you think...you think that the other...the other superhero that suffers from insomnia could do better?" You slowly put your arms around his neck, and pulled him to yourself. 

"Something...like this?"

Steve gasped, feeling a strong wave of electricity shoot straight to his core as he felt your arms around his neck, your body pressed against his all at once, his arms holding onto your waist, keeping you pulled close to him. His eyes flicked down to your lips as you spoke as he answered. 

"Definitely."

And he suddenly realized how good it felt, how right it felt, how much he wanted to taste you, how badly he could feel that strange, overwhelming feeling in his heart begging him to just give in.

He moved just a little more. And it felt as if he were hanging on the edge of a cliff, his breath caught in his throat as he spoke, his voice a shaky whisper.

"Can I..."

And you moved your lips up, right into his.

And all the butterflies just...flew up, and a thousand golden glitter traces exploded everywhere like magic dust rolled in the wind.

Steve felt a sudden fire ignite within him as his body ached for you, every inch desperate to feel your touch. 

He let out a small moan as he tasted you, the ache growing stronger with each passing second. 

His hands roamed sliding down your back and up to your hair, tangling his fingers in the strands as the kiss deepened. Steve wanted more, he needed more...he just couldn't get enough.

But you broke the kiss, you needed air.

So he had to, too. His breaths coming out sharp and ragged, his heart hammering so hard and fast he could practically feel it in his head. He took a moment to compose himself, his hands holding you still against him, his forehead resting against yours as he tried to control his breathing.

“I…I can’t believe I just did that…” he spoke after a while, his voice coming out as a whisper.

OMG. 

You opened your eyes and blurted out: "But...but...did...but did you like it?" 

RIGHT? Please tell me you liked it or you'll have to present your resignation to Stark tomorrow.

“Liked it?”

Steve’s hand suddenly comes up to gently push a strand of hair back behind your ear.

“I loved it.”

You gazed at him, and of course, your impulse worked so much faster than your sense: "So can we do it again?"

Steve’s eyes widened, a small, incredulous laugh escaping his throat.

“You think you have to ask?”

"And...would you mind if I...take the lead...this time?" You can barely look at him, and your voice is so low that only a super soldier could hear.

"I..."Steve’s heart suddenly skipped. God, you’re wonderfully full of surprises.

"Not at all." Not in a million lifetimes.

"Ok." You inhaled deeply to take charge, but all of a sudden, you stopped. As you were realizing something.

"W-What's wrong?" Steve didn’t dare to speak above a whisper, his mind racing through every possible reason as to why you suddenly hesitated like that.

“Is this…too fast?”

"Oh no." You immediately shook your head: "No, this is wonderful. It's just...my heart is beating so fast and so loud, I don't...I don't even know what to do with it, just...just give me a second to recover. Hold to that thought a little longer."

You wave your face with a hand, as you couldn’t breathe. Is too loud. This is too loud. Your heart was pounding too fast, you were afraid he could hear it. That everyone in this campus could hear it.

"Oh for god's sake!" He laughed so hard. His heart suddenly swelled, the moment was perfect…perfect in a way he never realized possible. He couldn't believe it, how can you be so adorable and drive him to the edge of wildness at the same time.

As you struggle to catch your breath and calm your racing heart, your eyes are drawn to him. His smile, his laughter, the sparkle in his eyes, the way he holds your hand. 

And in a moment of dumbfounded wonder, you find yourself uttering, "Are you even real…?”

He sighed, a long exhale filled with tenderness and emotions he couldn't yet understand. His forehead rested against yours as he whispered back with a smile.

"If I'm not real...your imagination is pretty damn amazing..."

"...I think this is beyond my imagination..."

Steve slowly moved his hand down to your cheek, gently brushing his thumb across the blushing skin: "Trust me, my imagination could never have come up with someone like you..."

"But..." You almost trembled under his touch, and as he raised your jaw to look at you, you finally took the lead.

"This is real." 

And you pressed your lips to his for an even more perfect second kiss.

Steve gasped.

They say marvelous things about the first kisses. But how can they say nothing about the second one?

His heart suddenly accelerating within his chest, overtaken by the sensation of your touch. He couldn't think, head completely foggy, mind blurred, with the only clarity of wanting more. 

His hand suddenly grabbed onto your waist, pulling you even closer to him, his own mouth instantly responding against yours. 

He was losing it to the urge, the need, to get even closer to you, to have all of you.

Your whole body was shivering, and when you got a chance to breathe, you uncontrollably whispered his name with a lost voice.

"Steve..."

And that's just it. 

That’s what set Steve on fire.

He slowly shifted his body, pulling you onto his lap so you were now sitting on his thighs. He leaned forwards to your ear, his hot breath on your neck as he spoke in a low whisper, his own voice almost pleading.

"Say it again..."

You opened your watery and moist eyes, and what you released was almost an uncontrolled begging moan, "Steve..." as you pressed your fingers tightly to his skin, unable to bear all these feelings.

Steve suddenly stopped all action, the sound of his name on your lips mixed with that look in your eyes sending a shiver down his spine.

"God..." He said as he breathed heavily and leaned back. Panting. 

For fucks’ sake. He thinks to himself.

"You have no idea what you're doing to me..." 

It took all the willpower within him not to act on his body's needs, not to press you down into the bench and claim all of you right there.

Your mind was so blurred and your body and heart were reacting so out of control that you had no idea what you were saying. So you just answered spontaneously in between panting breaths, "...Helping you with your sleeping problems?"

Steve chuckled. You were magical. His body was distressed after your reply, but still so pending on everything you made him feel. He looked at your blushed face and heard your agitated breathing. He couldn't understand how you truly had no idea of the effect you had on him, of how badly he wanted you right now. So he took a deep breath in, trying to hold himself back.

"Helping to sleep?" His thumb caressed your lips. "More like keeping me awake..."

"Oh..." As if you had any idea of how that had happened, ending up in his lap with this kiss that would haunt you for the rest of your life.

"So do you need another bedtime story?"

Steve chuckled again, your words bringing him back into the moment, grounding him a bit. He looked at you and smiled, shaking his head. "No, that's a wrap for today. But I need to ask you something."

Something he wanted to ask since you sat by his side tonight. But well, is not his fault that he was so easily distracted by you.

"And be honest with me, okay?" He inhaled slowly, and for a strange reason, his nerves rose again when you nodded. He slowly ran his eyes over your face, the way the light from the city below flickered on your skin. 

And for a moment he hesitated in asking, what if the answer was not what he expected?

"Are you...seeing anyone right now...? Like...do you have a...boyfriend...?"

"Oh." From all the questions on earth, this was the last one you expected. So you nodded. 

"Yeah, I do, from Mondays to Fridays, during working hours. Then, I'm allowed to hang around the campus at midnight to find a super soldier, sit on his lap, and kiss him."

Steve's eyes widened when he heard the first part, and then a loud laughter escaped his lips. 

He felt his heart filled with inexplicable joy. Damn, you were good. He was so glad, he couldn't stop smiling, and he felt his soul was full with your hand interlocked with his. As two perfect matched pieces from a puzzle.

"Well...?" You lifted an eyebrow at him.

"What?"

"Are you?" You looked at him as if it were an obvious implication. "Seeing someone?"

"No." He was firm, the small smile still on his face. He looked up at you, slowly shaking his head. "No...I haven't been with anyone for a while...I haven't had any reason to..." And he sighed a gentle whisper, "...up until now, anyway..."

You were terrible at getting indirect answers. Your brain only worked with binary stuff. So you blinked several times, making sure you understood correctly.

"And...can you consider that possibility, right now?"

Steve held his gaze steady on yours, "What if...what if I said I already had someone in mind?"

"Is she...helping you with your sleeping problems? Or...a very good storyteller?"

Steve suddenly let out a chuckle. "Maybe ...but it's not just about the sleep, you know...It's about...having that person there...that one person who's always there for you...that one person who always makes you smile..." As you.

"...that person you can always be yourself around..." As you. He thought, while observing you, expecting your reaction.

"Well..." You nodded, thinking about it seriously. "I....I don't know if I'd be a good fit but...."

"...But...?"

Steve's nerves built again as you paused for a moment, he wanted to know if you were saying what he thought you were about to say.

"But I promise I'll do everything in my power to make you smile...and...and I'll be there...always...and...I'll do anything..." 

Your lack of courage didn't let you finish under the look of Steve's gaze. He was so serious that you started to stutter and couldn't finish those stupid words.

Well done. That sounded so cliche. You couldn't believe yourself.

But Steve sat there, completely stunned and frozen, your words slowly sinking in within his mind. He couldn't believe what you'd just said, how you'd spoken to them with such honesty, such conviction. And you weren't even together yet, you weren't a couple, you weren't...anything, really.

And his stomach was twisting into a knot as he listened to your every word, as he heard the meaning behind them.

A strange kind of calm washed over him, as if a weight was suddenly slowly lifted from his chest. You couldn't have said it better. He couldn't even imagine better, and yet, everything you said was exactly what he hoped you'd say, and those words had calmed and soothed something within him he'd never realized needed soothing.

"I AM SO SORRY." You, in the other hand, were a mess while he was still wonderstruck, thinking that made him feel so uncomfortable. "I'll take it back, I didn't say anything."

"No." He replied immediately. No, don't you dare take that back from me. 

He wanted to speak, wanted to say so much, but the words failed him. So he inhaled deeply, and cupped your face in his hands, pressed his forehead to yours.

"I m, I'm just...stunned, I'm just...marveled."

"Huh?" This emotional rollercoaster was killing you. "Why?"

Steve suddenly let out a small chuckle, your innocence and naivety when it came to your affect on him just kept him in endless wonder. But he had time. You'll find out eventually how important you are. And that makes him smile. That's a wonderful word: "Eventually." Means you have so much ahead of you together.

"Because...I've never heard anyone say the things you just said to me, that's why..."

"Oh." You are not really good at interpreting people's faces. So you just don't know what to say, and to be honest, there's something else you want to ask.

"Steve?"

"Mmh?"

"Can I have your phone number?"

Steve laughed again, God, what a night. How can you be this...amazing? He pulled the phone out, turning it on and pulling up the screen as he spoke.

"Of course you can...here...put your number in..."

"Yeah..." You rubbed your nose. "I don't know my phone number...Maybe...you can search it in the...public contact list? Here, let me help you." You say while entering your complete name in the organization's internal app.

"Oh." Steve frowns. "You don't know your phone number?"

"Well, do you?" You return his cellphone after finding your contact card in the top level section.

"I know EVERYONE'S number." Steve has a smirk on his face, his playful side suddenly coming out.

"Really? WHY?" You wonder. "You're on Level 0, you should have access to everything, you don't need to have to know the numbers by heart..."

"Because...I'm Captain America, I have to know these things..."

You take this joke so seriously, you're shocked. "REALLY? You know...like all the avenger's numbers?"

Steve snorted a laugh, the look on your face priceless. Oh, you gorgeous, adorable being. And he had this urge, of kissing you again, so he smiled, leaning a little closer to you as he spoke, his hand tightening around your waist, pulling you closer.

"Yeah...yeah I do...every single one..."

Your eyes sparkled.

"Can I have Thor's?"

"What?" That got him off guard, and he answered really fast. "NO." No way. You stay away from him. You're mine. 

"Why? Does he even use these things?" You were so genuinely intrigued. "Don't you talk to him through a magic mirror or something?"

"W...what..." Steve didn't know what to answer, he was laughing and shaking his head while swiping his contacts. "No, we don't have magic mirrors, I actually do have his number, look, over here 'God Of Thunder'..."

"Wow, did you actually name him 'God Of Thunder'?" You find that incredibly cute.

"Oh yeah...I'm one of those people that put's everything..." He held his phone in front of you.

"...well here it is...there's 'The Mighty Thor', the 'King of Asgard', also 'God of Thunder'...and 'Thunder God'...pick your favorite..."

You look at him while his sight is on the screen of his phone, your voice almost a whisper. 

"And...um...what would be...my contact name?"

"Well..." Steve's eyes were glancing down to his phone at your question, wondering what he would call you. He paused for a moment, scrolling to the section of his contacts list, his thumb hovering over the small, blank box for your name. He thought for a moment longer.

"What would you want it to be...?"

And your words escaped from your mouth before you could think clearly, before you could reply with anything smart.

"What do you want me to be? …to you?"

Steve suddenly froze, his finger hovering over the blank contact name as your words echoed in his ears, filling his mind. 

He straightened his pose, his eyes met yours, looking deep into them, silently trying to figure out what you'd just said.

And he finally exhaled slowly, his thoughts racing through his mind again, unable to form words for a moment. He could only manage a quiet voice, a soft whisper.

"How about...my Everything."

And there was once upon a time, a soldier who couldn't sleep asked for a wish to a fairy.

So there you were, feeling your heart has exploded into a million shining butterflies, and all the stars of the universe have made your wish come true, you took his hand and smiled.

"Your wish is granted, soldier."

END but TBC

Continue to:

2: Lucid |

3: Reverie |

4: Nightmare |

5: Awakening |

6: Dusk |

7: Hypnagogia |

8: Lull |

9: Vigil |

10: Eclipse |

Hii thanks for reading & thanks for sticking with me this far <3 I hope you liked it and it wasn't too long to boring. This is my first time writing in english, hope it wasn't terrible :3 also, this is my first time setting this thing in tumblr, so fingers crossed it worked out okay ;_; A special hug to this lady who helped me set this up @jamneuromain (I still have no idea how this works)

Love.,

Moon.

[shadesoflsk]

    HIS MINI WORLD

ft: Leon Kennedy x Fem Reader summary: Leon experiencing fatherhood. From the day his little miracle's heart started beating to her first steps. warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, self doubts but overall this is just fluff and nothing more! wc: 1.4k author's note: Hello! This is me once again bringing dad Leon content. The last time I wrote him was for Christmas hehe. I don't really know what I did here since this like a combination between headcanons and mini drabbles but hey, it's something. Anyway, take care!

   masterlist

Leon who ever since you announced you were expecting he switched to dad mode. All of his friends needed to know that he was now a father to be. Claire? The first one to know. Chris? He needed to know that he may as well be the godfather of his little blessing. 

Leon who was next to you at every ultrasound appointment. He couldn't even make out where this little bean was but he already called them the most perfect thing. Because, after all, it's the perfect combination of both of you.

Leon who is the first one to buy parenting books. He often told you not so common facts as he read in the middle of the night. Do you know that babies are born with the ability to swim? He made sure to tell you even if you were fast asleep.

“Darling…” Leon gently shook you, his voice was hushed yet it was enough to stir you from your sleep and say goodbye to your precious dreams. “Mhm…? What is it?” Being woken up in the middle of the night wasn’t something you were looking for. Especially since you already grew used to Leon’s schedule. However, you tried not to show any signs of grumpiness.  “Do you know that our baby can recognize music? So… if we put some headphones on your stomach they might know what we usually listen to!” His voice was barely a whisper but it wasn’t enough to hide his excitement.  “Go to sleep Leon…”

Leon who has all the money in the world to buy the most expensive and glamorous crib, yet he wanted to experience how it was to build it. So, he made it from scratch. Of course, with Chris’ help. Even though both of them ended up with splinters in their fingers.

Leon who would rarely argue with you. But when the time comes when you disagree about something and go to bed a bit mad at each other, he would place a hand on your belly as he whispered: I'm mad at you, not at them. Eventually, both of you would forgive each other, even if the argument was just a silly disagreement.

Arguing with Leon was obviously something doomed to happen in your marriage. As much as you wanted it to be peaceful and problem-less, your personalities sometimes crashed. It never led to an actual fight. But Leon was… stubborn, even if he knew you were right, he'd never admit it. So, as you lay on your side hoping that sleep comes faster, you feel a strong and calloused hand over your belly.  “I'm not angry at them so this is only fair.” Leon said, rubbing and caressing the skin that was starting to stretch as it gave the baby more space to grow. After a couple of seconds of silence, Leon started to feel guilty for not giving you attention. You were carrying his baby, he couldn’t act this immature. “Sorry…” Leon sheepishly apologized for his previous banter. An argument should never make them go to bed angry at each other. “I'm sorry too.” You finally responded as drowsiness started filling your mind and body.

Leon who responded “I just want them to be healthy,” when someone asked him about his baby. But he was a bit too happy when you announced to him that he was going to be a girl dad. In his mind, he wanted to have two beautiful princesses next to him. And now, heaven is allowing him to achieve his dreams and leave behind his sorrowful previous life.

Leon who may as well go bankrupt since he buys everything he sees at the shop. Tiny pink dresses and teddy bears are his favorite things to buy. His little princess deserves the world, she’s already his whole world.

Leon who would speak to your bump, his words full of promises and wishes for his baby. And even when you were asleep, he would go on for minutes, expecting his little miracle to hear him.

“You will be so loved… Everyone is waiting for you.” He said one night, a hand caressing the side of your belly. “I have already bought so many toys you will be playing with. Daddy loves you so much.”

Leon who has to go on missions, he can’t just quit. But, he keeps a photo of your ultrasound in his wallet, next to yours. A totem of his love, a physical item that reminds him he needs to return home. 

“Shit…” He hissed as the nurse helped him sit down on one of the chairs. He had recently just come back from a mission which took a toll on him. It wasn’t especially hard since he had help from his new team, yet he believed his age was starting to show in his body. “Mr. Kennedy, your belongings…” The nurse spoke to him for the first time as she picked up Leon’s jacket which had fallen as he sat down. Leon thanked her before he started searching for something in one of its pockets. For a while, he paid no mind to the nurse ministrations. The alcohol swab stung just a bit as she cleaned an injury on his side. Eventually, he found what he was looking for. He pulled out his wallet and there they were, the photos he always carries with him. A proud smile showed on his face as he was reminded that he had succeeded in another mission which meant Heaven granted him one more day to live. He was alive and ready to continue living..

Leon who would practically faint when you told him the baby was coming, that the time has come. He had previously made scenarios about this situation, thinking that he was prepared but dear God… he wasn’t. 

Dad Leon who sobbed when he heard his baby’s cries for the first time. However, this time, those sounds didn’t come from someone who was suffering as he is used to hearing in his line of job. Those cries were the living proof that he was once again, given a second chance in life.

The first one was when you agreed to marry him. He held himself from grabbing his daughter out of the nurse’s arms. It’s not that he didn’t trust the medical team, but he has waited almost 9 months to see, to hold his miracle.  And even though a part of him fears that his hands are too stained from his job, from his past, and from the near future, he knows that his and your hands will be the ones guiding your baby.

Dad Leon who doesn't know what to do once you were discharged from the hospital. He couldn't spend one second away from the both of you, always checking if you needed something.

Dad Leon who speaks with his daughter as if she was already a grown-up. Her babbles and his words fill the living room as they both engage in a serious conversation.

“Bwaaah” “Yeah, I get it. But you have to understand my point too. If we increase the price of milk people are going to buy even less. “Bwah…” “No need to get so political, miss. I’m simply offering some feedback about the supply and demand of this product.”

Dad Leon who wears matching outfits with you and his daughter. Is the little one wearing pink today? Guess everyone else will too. 

Dad Leon who tries so hard to teach his baby how to say dada. Da-da Da-da, that word is starting to haunt his dreams. However, life works in funny ways since his little one decided that her first world would be “No.”

Dad Leon who is terrified when his daughter starts walking. Those wobbly steps make him have a heart attack each second. 

Dad Leon who hates it when his kid falls and cries. He would literally just look the other way for a second and boom, his daughter fell to the ground. Between the sobs of his little one, he could hear how she says she got a boo-boo. God, he hates gravity. 

Dad Leon who sometimes cries from happiness. Watching his baby girl grow fills his heart with so much joy and pride. The world was a messed up place but whilst he lives, he’ll make sure that no danger ever comes across you two. 

[bloodgors]

IT'S GETTING HOT IN HERE!

featuring: a sunburnt lifeguard!shido ryusei x f!reader

synopsis: being a lifeguard came with a lot of tolerance for kids, teens, and even adults that made dumb decisions in water. shido came home frustrated from work, ready to take his late night run, headphones in hand. you, after seeing his sunburn and piercings on display, had other plans.

note: thank you so much to @kurtiness for letting me use their art and take inspiration from it for this fanfiction, go and check their page out, their bllk art is amazing >0< also, please make sure to reblog and show your love for this post, it helps me get the motivation to write more works like these 🎀

before you read: i went a little overboard... shido ryusei is a warning in and of himself, smut mdni, vv minor fluff @ the end, shidou has a lot of piercings and uses them to his advantage, a lot of cursing, established relationship, meaner shido + needy reader, pain kink (shido), edging + overstimulation (all in one...), scratching + blood, pussy slapping, spitting (can you tell by my fics i <3 spitting), degradation

inspired by this art work from @kurtiness — proofread

"fuck..." shido slams the front door to his house open, whipping his arms behind his back to stretch them. he'd had a more than shitty day today.

it'd been a more than shitty day at work for him. as the first saturday of summer, he'd expected for more people to come than usual. kids, teenagers, even adults that'd been taking advantage of the weekend.

smut under the cut 0_o

what he didn't expect was for them to be do incapable of following basic rules. one whistle after the other, he'd had to dive into the ocean to save kids that failed to these rules. these were just the consequences of their own actions, he thought.

and worst of all, shido had forgotten to bring his usual sunscreen, and with none of his colleagues on duty, all he could do was pray he didn't get sunburned. and what do you know? his skin hurt to the touch.

shido slouched and walked over to grab his headphones that he'd left on the couch for his nightly jog, and as he walked over, he saw you. your legs were splayed all over the couch with nothing on but a tank top and a pair of his boxers.

he found himself chuckling at your sleepy state, instantly regretting it as your eyes squinted open. "shido?" your voice came out raspier than you'd anticipated it to be, eyes still adjusting to the dimly lit room.

"go back to sleep, i'm going back out to jog, baby." he flicks your forehead and you curse at him under your breath.

you sit up, your body now rid of all your drowsiness after seeing your boyfriend get rid of his tank top. "oh my god," you breathed out. shido turns to look down at you with a puzzled look.

"stay here, please?" you caressed his chiseled stomach as an attempt to coax him into staying, though, your touched prompted him to hiss from the pain of his sunburn.

you then notice what you'd done and pulled back your hand in a flash, apologizing. "baby, i'd stay. but you know i love runnin' in the night—and i had a fuckin' shitty day today." he sighs, ruffling your hair. "i wanna take it out with music and a jog."

you clasped his hands together with yours, slowly standing up—although it didn't help with getting to face level, you looked up at him and locked eyes. "take it out on me, please?" you bit your lip out of embarrassment. "i was waiting here at your place all day, 'm all needy shido. i need you."

his expression turned into something you couldn't read, his eyes looked at you with a blank stare, yet his eyebrows were furrowed. "shido? why won't you—" shido's pierced lips crashed onto yours, his body slouching even more to kiss you comfortably. many people had always criticized shido for getting his lips pierced, but you could confidently say you'd always melted feeling the metal on your lips.

his fingers shuffled throughout your body, ghosting by the places you'd desperately wanted him to touch. you pulled off as he got closer to his boxers you'd wearing, afraid he'd see the mess you'd already let out earlier.

shido's expression looked puzzled, he leaned into your ear, chin resting on your shoulder, "is there something you're hiding from me, cutie?" as you open your mouth to deny the fact, his tongue traces shapes on your ear, nibbling on the lobe every now and then. this draws out a moan from your sealed lips.

your effort to stop him from reaching your panties so soon was to no avail, as his finger tips made their way from groping your ass, to feeling your clothed pussy in a matter of a second.

"oh?" his long and slender fingers start rubbing back and forth at the damp spot on his boxers you wore. "were you touching yourself? it seems like my boxers aren't just wet with your slick."

your eyes stuttered and you averted your gaze away from him, a clear sign you were guilty. he growled and got on his knees to confirm he was right. sliding down your undergarments, he examines your spent pussy with it's traces of your cum.

"guess i was right," he clicked his tongue, looking up at your nervous expression. you felt your heart beat out of your chest when his eyes narrowed at you, knowing you were in for punishment.

you shut your eyes, fully expecting for shido to deny pleasing you for getting too ahead of yourself when you felt a slap on your clit. your eyes shot open out of surprise, feeling your body still recover from the high from earlier.

"you like that, huh? you fuckin' slut." he laughed at you, and you felt yourself clamp your legs shut from the second slap.

shido's eyebrows arch in confusion, he then sighs and bends down to throw you over his shoulder. "you please yourself without me and expect me to not punish you." grunting, he finally gets you over his shoulder, and despite your begging—he walks you over to his bed.

as shido places you on his bed, you start worrying how long you're going to be laying there. he asks you to spread your legs open, and who were you to disobey your boyfriend while he was all frustrated?

you got on your back with your legs spread, head resting on a pillow, arms attempting to hide your facial expression from him.

"count."

"huh?"

"so those two slaps i'd done a couple minutes ago were for nothing?"

you swallowed and nodded your head no slowly, he pets you as if to praise you for telling him what he wanted to hear before he lands another slap.

you moaned out when he slapped your clit a fourth time, already dangerously close to your high since you'd never left your last. shido looked at you intently, waiting for you.

"four.."

shido smirked at you as he picked up the pace on his slaps, egging on your orgasm. "eight.. nine... fuck—shido 'm gonna come!"

he replaced his hand with his mouth, his lips kissing and sucking on your clit. shido's lip rings only added onto the pleasure, the cold metal rings made you shiver. your vision then blurred, hands subconsciously tightening their grip on shido's disheveled hair.

you swore that there was nothing on your mind in that moment but shido, his tongue, and his mouth. and then that's when you felt a void—huh? what happened?

you opened your eyes, you looked at shido whom was now standing, covering his smile with his tanned arm. whining, you kicked at him once, which prompted him to use both arms to put you into a mating press.

"i only want you to come when i'm inside of you," he cooed, admiring your blown out pupils as he stretches your legs. "it's the least you could do for letting yourself come undone with me, right?"

you subconsciously nodded, desperately wanting to come undone at the hands of your boyfriend. he used one arm to keep your legs in place, and used the other to unzip his own pants, his cock springing out of his boxers.

it looked *so* pretty. you'd always been amazed whenever shido had whipped out his dick from his boxers. it curved slightly to the right, it wasn't too long, but it was thick—and a bit veiny you might add. with a flush pink tip.

despite having you at his mercy, he looked up with you to make a silent confirmation you wanted this. after you'd nodded, he lined himself up, and pushed himself in.

it never failed to hurt everytime he slid into you, which always made shido have to wait for you to adjust. even if that mean't gritting his teeth and gripping the sheets as he tried not to pump himself in and out of you just yet.

"m— move, uh!" before you could even finish your sentence, his pace quickly went from zero to a hundred. it had you all jittery, not knowing where to position your hands. that's when they found his back.

"fuck!" his head fell next to yours, the pain of your touch to his sunburnt skin ignited his desire for you even further. he turned his gaze to you, watching your face contort in all sorts of ways from the pleasure.

he whispered in your ear, "such a fuckin' slut, wantin' more after makin' yourself come with yer own fingers.." shido's tongue stuck out to lick and suck at your ear lobe.

your eyes shot open, the degradation caused you to clench around his length, a higher-pitched, long moan leaving shido's lips. anyone could confuse him with a dog in heat, you'd thought.

as shido found the spot that made your body all on edge, you felt the knot in your stomach come undone. you pressed your fingers and it's nails even harder into his back, leaving a bloody mark in it's trail.

"ryu.. ryu, i'm coming!" your breath became heavy, and shido kept thrusting into you, although sloppy, you'd thought he was chasing his own high. he came outside, his come dripping from your stomach onto your pussy. and—oh. wait what?

shido thrusted back inside of you, his breath growing ragged. "shido, 's too much wait!" his pace was sloppy yet deep and sensual, room filled with loud moans from both you and shido.

he loved the feeling of his cock getting sucked deep inside your cunt, but even more than that, he loved the pain he felt when you dug your nails into his skin. and paired with his sunburn? oh god. although he felt overwhelmed by all the pleasure too, he wanted to punish you. even if it mean't coming undone himself.

this went on for maybe two or three more times, til' shido pulled out, his thighs shaking next to yours. he took his arm off of your legs, letting them rest, crouching down next to you to cool off for a minute or too.

"thank you, baby." he sighed out in between breaths. "i feel— i feel better now. i don't feel as frustrated.. anymore."

you weakly smiled, turning your face to him. a way of saying, your welcome. his forehead pressed against yours, landing a short and sweet kiss on your lips.

though both overstimulated, you wished it could've went on longer. not for the pleasure, but just for being in your boyfriend's grasp, at his mercy.

after all, you did love shido ryusei—sunburns and all.