#im just here hoping like-minded people find me...

[spacedlexi]

i love to hear your thoughts on minnie you're the only one who gets season 4 in the fullest

im so flattered you think so anon 😭

how it feels being in this fandom sometimes

i love analyzing narrative and themes and stuff and S4 has Way more going on than people will give it credit for (S1 + 4 combo my beloved)

[ratatatastic]

do you write fic on ao3?

unfortunately for everyone involved i do!

[tidal-chaos]

on an unrelated note do yall actually want to be remembered after death? isnt death supposed to be a break from the horrors of being perceived. what am i missing

[pears-trinkets]

.

[todayisafridaynight]

#ANYWAY LET ME COOK. im not a good chef but i can at least cook an egg lemme see what i got...

This is leagues ahead of Jo as per Substitute Father so I'm sure you'll do great <3 NOT TO SET THE BAR LOW... Arakawa POV part of that was sooooooo cute but I am of course VERY MUCH LOOKING FORWARD regardless of what you've got in the oven :] I think it's funny we always end up with roughly the same concepts but I just shoehorn RGGJo into it instead

DO YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN THOUGH WITH HOW THE MARKETING FOR YLAD KEPT HAMMERING IN THE SON THING ONE WAY OR ANOTHER... BUT THE SCENE YOU WERE TALKING ABOUT IS FUNNY and honestly half of the things Westerners [<- counting myself just this once] find funny in RGG apparently aren't intentional so what's one more

Substitute Father haunts me since i really don't like it but i also know that One (1) person really enjoyed it so i don't want to delete it SOOO the most i can do at this point is try to write something better as an apology and try to forget.. and hopefully let arakawa FPOV in a better fic..

BUT YEAH LMAO they really werent subtle bout it in retrospect.... teehee..

[caramelkoo]

before we shatter — jjk [one]

genre : established relationship, idol!jungkook

word count : 6k

summary : dating an idol is fun, they said. having a family with one is fun, they said. Until you're falling face forward because of your reality. A reality where Jungkook dreams of a future and a reality where your own future is collapsed.

chapter warnings : nsfw, strong language, mature content, fluff, so much angst, smut, talks of infertility, clit sucking, fingering, Jungkook worships her, dirty talk, doggy style, reader is in so much pain i love her sm, fall vibes <33, gift giving as a love language, pussy slapping with his d, big dick energy, jungkook is desperate. that's about it please mention if i missed anything.

read part two here

a/n : based on this ask so thank you anon for coming forward and giving me a chance to write this. i also wanna mention that im no doctor so please forgive me if i didn't do the topic of infertility justice. the second part gives more clarity in their case so please be kind to wait. enjoy and im v v grateful for you. you're so loved.

When you were a child, barely five, an orange butterfly came flying outside your front door. Your mom told you about it since she saw it first causing your entire face to instantly light up like the fourth of july.

An inexplicable joy filled your whole body making your day ten times better, not that you were having a bad one. A five year old can’t have a bad day whatsoever.

After you were done chasing it around, secretly hoping that it would land on your nose just the way they show on television, you had to let it go and head back inside. 

Oddly enough the next morning you saw it again, this time it was not flapping its wings like it had last night, instead it was sitting on the window beside the door. Quiet and still. 

You, ever so curious, had to ask your mom about it. “It might find comfort there,” she said. 

Up until you met your boyfriend you had spent the majority of your time wondering where your comfort place is, what is that one place where you can just be yourself and not pretend to be some stoic woman. A place which lets you cry whenever you want but also replaces those tears with wide smiles and loud giggles. 

Turns out, it’s your boyfriend’s arms. 

It’s true. Jungkook with his kind, sparkly bambi eyes and bunny smile stole your damn heart a few years ago and is not willing to give it back. Although you can’t complain, in a world where people can’t seem to find the one for themselves, the angels up there granted you a guy every inch a gentleman. Safe to say it’s not one like one of those titular relationships you've come across. 

He’s your solace, a roof where you can safely just about exist. 

He heals you.

Dating an Idol comes with several perks, the biggest one of those being dealing with the huge amount of selective criticism. You feel hurt, of course, but when you’re with Jungkook, they are nothing but words behind a pixel. A pain that only lasts momentarily. 

This pain though, is not as mundane. This one is making your stomach twist in apprehension. You’ve lost the count of how many deep breaths you’ve taken.

“I’m afraid this is a case of infertility miss _____” the doctor says, earning your attention.

You’re not able to form a word, however that does nothing to stop your subconscious mind from screaming, I knew it.

Being stupid enough to think you were well prepared to hear her say this, you mustered up the courage to enter the four walled white space which, at that time, didn’t feel as narrow as it does now. It’s almost as if it’s closing up on you.

Only after you sat before the woman in white coat and bad news, did you realize how gut wrenching this actually feels.

You face her with a weak smile, one that doesn’t actually reach your eyes, “Are- are you sure you’re not mistaken?” 

Dr. Ana leans forward, resting her forearms on the table. The move itself tells you more than you need to. “Miss _____, I know it’ll be hard for you to come to terms with this but I suggest you try. I would also like to tell you, and I hope I’m not overstepping, but you can always go with adoption. The options are endless.” 

Your throat feels awfully dry and you gulp. “Thank you uh, can I ask you for a favor?” 

“Anything”

“If you happen to cross paths with Jungkook, please don’t mention anything about this to him.” 

Dr. Ana flashes you a kind smile, “Of course not ____. It’s your personal matter. I wouldn’t dare.” 

“Thanks a lot.” 

With one last nod you excuse yourself from her office. Your phone buzzes inside your pocket and you take it out, seeing Jungkook’s number stare up at you. 

“Hey” 

“Hey, my love. Are you busy?” His voice nearly brings tears to your eyes. It also brings up a question. Will he act the same towards you after you tell him where you are and what you just heard? Will his voice be filled with the same amount of excitement and affection for you? 

“No, honey. I’m actually at my sister’s place. She was craving some alone time with her husband and asked me to babysit Coco”

You can visualise him awing already. Jungkook has grown attached to your sister’s daughter a little too much. His bond with Coco is just so bright it makes you wonder if they happened to be an actual father and daughter duo in the past life. They’re both full of beans and it’s a delight to see them both together. 

He chimes, “Ah my little Coco bean. Is she near? Let me hear my angel.” 

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you try to come up with any transitory excuse that doesn’t make you run for the hills. “She’s sleeping right now. Made me work for it but I managed to settle her down” 

Jungkook moans from the other side of the line and you mentally curse yourself. Not only are you lying through your teeth but also using your innocent niece as a pawn. From the day you began dating Jungkook, you’ve not looked at any other man. For the first time now, you have this nagging feeling as though you’re cheating on him. 

“Well, alright next time then. When are you coming back home?” 

“As soon as they do. Do you miss me already?” I tease.

“Pfft me and miss you? Impossible” 

You gasp, the audacity of this boy. “How rude!!”

Your goofy boyfriend dares to chuckle, “I carry you with me everywhere I go, love. It’s hard to miss someone who’s this close to you every time of the day.” 

It doesn’t take you long to grasp what he is referring to. The heart shaped bracelet rests proudly on his wrists and the man had refused to take it off ever since you gifted it to him. A sense of longing already creeps up in your heart, twisting it until you run out of breath. 

Your chest expands as you fill it with much needed air, “Listen, honey I’ll give you a call soon yeah? I think Coco has woken up and I must go check if she needs something,” you fake a chuckle, “You know how she gets when she’s irritated” 

“Oh yes of course. Promise to give me a call soon?” 

This time the smile on your face is genuine, “I promise” 

“Give Coco a kiss for me. I love you.” 

“I love you.” 

There’s a heavy weight on your chest as soon as you hang up the call. Maybe it has always been there. So, for a couple of minutes you just stand there in the hallway of the hospital taking in the sterile smell and worrisome patients, praying that the highest power up there gives you one last chance so you could try and fix what’s been ruined.

The commotion around you does nothing to overtake the voices in your head and sadness fires through you as you feel like you’re burning your boats. Despite all of that, you pray for one last time, this time for again being strong enough to let go. 

Let go of your happiness.

Let go of your salvation.

Let go of your comfort.

Let go of Jungkook.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

You click the door shut behind you, hanging the coat on the rack. You’re not even done turning around when a muscular arm wraps around your abdomen and you’re pulled back against a taut chest. 

“I missed you” his voice is muffled against your jumper.

You run your palms over Jungkook’s forearm, stopping to interlace your fingers with his.The way his hands fit with yours is adorable to you as if they were made to do so. The bracelet on his wrist is cool against your skin and you smile. “You know what’s funny? This guy I talked to earlier said it’s impossible for him to miss me” 

He rests his chin on top of your shoulders, cheeks warm against yours. He has grown out a stubble which makes him look manlier for some reason and you can’t stop caressing it with your fingers whenever you cup his face.

“You’re talking to other guys?” If you hadn’t known Jungkook better than himself, you would have missed the pout of his lips when he said that. 

You turn your face and place a sloppy kiss on his cheekbones, “Only my favourite guy in the whole world.” 

He breaks out in a toothy grin and holds your gaze. “You’re my favourite girl too but I think you already know that.” 

You nod but the pang of guilt is still lingering in your heart. “Still love hearing it.” 

Jungkook releases you from his embrace and walks back, rounding the kitchen counter until he’s holding up a large bowl. “Ready for our fall ritual?” 

Jungkook and you have been using your mum’s recipe to bake chocolate chip cookies every fall and while you enjoy baking with him, the thing that you take the most pleasure from is his face when he munches on the first cookie.

It’s one of your favorite sights ever. It takes quite a bit of effort to bake them but hell if you wouldn’t do it all over again just to see him close his eyes and moan like it is the best thing since sliced bread. 

You join him behind the counter and look around. From the way the batter has already been prepared you suppose he’s been at it for a while. There are some chocochips in a small bowl across from you with some cranberries next to them because he knows you like them in your cookies. 

“You don’t ever forget about the cranberries, do you?” 

“Nope. They’re your favourite plus if you eat well, I can eat you well– ouch,” he jumps, “What was that for?” 

You offer him a glare which does nothing to stop the smile threatening to break out of your lips, “Behave” 

His face inches closer to yours, “Now honey don’t be acting like I didn’t give you the best orgasm this morning” 

Oh well, how can you forget about that? Ninety nine percent of the time you love waking up in his arms while he’s the big spoon but there’s that one percent where he wakes you up with his head between your legs, sometimes with his face under your shirt sucking on your nipples. Indissoluble passion within him. His ability to satisfy you with his mouth alone needs to be studied because god if you don’t crave more and more. 

You blink, once twice thrice, “You’re incorrigible” 

He lets out a cackle at your flustered face as you wonder when you will stop blushing like a fool around him. It’s been years and he still makes you feel like you’re wrapped up in a ball of jitters. Jungkook leans back and straightens up. He plucks the apron from the counter before coming up behind you. “Hold your hair up for me” He demands. 

You grab a fistful of your hair and lift them up as he settles it on your neck before tying the knot at your back. With one last kiss on the back of your neck he joins you. 

“How long has it been since you began making this?” 

“Not long ago. Thought I’d wait for you to come back home and then continue”

You watch him add the chocochips into the dough. His tattoos are barely visible behind the cozy sweater he’s wearing. At the risk of sounding like a hypocrite, Jungkook with his perfect physique and gorgeous face looks good in everything, more so naked, but nothing triggers your cuteness aggression more than him wearing a fluffy knitted sweater, believe it or not. One which you knitted at that.

He pulls your attention away pausing your little drooling session, “How’s Coco bean doing?” 

A sudden urge of getting close to him creeps up and you sneak between the counter and him, hugging him as you nuzzle your face in his chest. He smells like cinnamon. He places a gentle kiss on the crown of your head before resting his chin there. 

“You smell so good” 

“Thanks and she’s as chaotic as ever. Nailea bought the cutest pair of pyjamas for her,” you look up at him,  “She looked like a loaf of bread when they made her wear it.” 

“No way. Should we buy her another one of those?” he pulls back, barely able to hide the excitement on his face.

“You’re gonna spoil her” 

“Damn right I will and if you call this spoiling, wait till I get one of those made by me.” 

There it is. 

If Jungkook wasn’t so fond of children, would it have been easier for you to cope? You do realize that you’re a stone’s throw away from losing him for once and for all. In the old days you heard somewhere that it takes a strong man to save to save himself and a great man to save another.

You want to be that brave person who saves him from lifelong loathing and regret towards you.

This turning point in your life gives you two options, one where you can hang by a thread and bite your tongue while you continue your life with him, another where you set him free. The latter one wins and you, however, lose. 

“Hey you went silent there. You okay?” He cups your cheek with one hand, his thumb grazing your cheekbones so gently you try not to cry. 

You nod and flash him a smile. Or at least you try to smile and detach yourself from him. “Perfect. Let’s get those cookies baking shall we?” 

Jungkook keeps looking at you with an expression which tells you he’s trying to search for something, but you try not to give anything away. Yet.

He gives you a look, his eyes sparkling under the low light in the room,

“Wait here for a second i’ll be right back” 

“Where are you goi-”

“Just a second. Don’t move” His voice trails off as he goes further into the bedroom. A minute later when he comes back, there’s nothing different about him except the sneaky smile on his face. He walks towards you and grabs you by the waist as he sits you on the counter. Your hands instantly clutch his shoulders for support. 

“What is happening, baby?” You mumble, clearly in a fog. 

He says nothing as he gets down on his knees. Taking a hold of your right leg, he places it on his thigh. You swallow.

He looks up, clashing his eyes with yours, “You ask too many questions, do you know that?” 

Seconds later he’s taking something out of his jogger pocket and a cool sensation brushes your skin. You peek down, curiosity finally killing the cat as you see a silver anklet adorned by a pink stone in the middle of it embraced around your ankles. 

His name is a whisper on your lips, “Jungkook”  

He gets up, facing you as he stands. But not before pecking the anklet as well as your skin. His face which earlier was eerie, now entirely soft. 

“Mom sent this for you.” 

You don’t hold back tears this time, letting them run free. You glance at the jewellery again as it shines under the light of the kitchen lamp. The pink stone glares at you as if it knows you’re not worthy of such a valuable item. 

“It’s beautiful”

He gently wipes the tears away,

“It’s just the beginning, love. I’m not gonna stop until I see a band wrapped around your finger. I feel too lonely being the only one there.” 

You playfully smack him on the chest, a giggle slipping free. With a tired shake of your head you admit, “This is overwhelming” 

“What is?” he asks,

“All of this,” you keep your gaze on him, sniffing as you continue,“Your little acts of service, your love, your presence and now this gift. I feel like I’m taking too much not giving enough” 

Your throat feels too tight, as if someone is just cutting off your air supply when you should be feeling free in his arms. 

Jungkook’s eyebrows tense as he reaches for you. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear he tries to reassure you, “Don’t say that. I hate when you question your worth,” he pecks the back of your hands, “These hands feed me, hold me when I need them to, give me warmth, gentle touches”,

His lips find both of your eyes next as you close them, feeling his soft lips on them,

“These eyes tear up with happiness every time you listen to me in the studio”,

Your ears follow next, “These ears tolerate my snoring”,

Then your lips, “And this mouth, my favourite, whispers ‘i love you’ to me every morning, leaves kisses on my skin, screams my name and most importantly, forms the loveliest smile when I make you happy.” His eyes are oh so gentle as he says this. 

You’re about to respond when his phone buzzes on the counter next to you. Your heart stops. Fuck is it Dr. Ana?

To your surprise, it’s Jimin’s number on the screen.

“Pick it up, honey. It might be important.” 

His thumb presses on the red button as he declines the call, “I’ll talk to him later. My girlfriend comes first.” 

Neither of you say a word as the room gets filled with a comfortable silence. The cookies are long forgotten, your eyes doing all the talking. Even if you try your hardest you’re not sure you can say anything which is remotely justifiable of what he just said to you.

Jungkook is so much more than meets the eye, he’s vulnerable, he’s empathetic, he’s loving. His eyes shine the brightest when he’s happy about something and you’re so full of contempt about the fact that eventually you will be the one to snatch away that shine. This hornet’s nest is going to ruin me, ruin him. 

“I wanna kiss you so bad” He whispers, leaning closer but you stop him with your palms on his chest.

“Wait, I-I want to talk about something” 

His voice is downright pleading when he says, “Later baby. I’m fucking gonna die if I don’t take that mouth right now. Please?” his breath touches your bare lips. 

Feeling a flutter in your chest you nod and he leans towards you, hand cupping your lower jaw as he touches his lips to yours. Softly at first, then his pace quickens. Your hands grab his sweater as you pull him even closer, deepening the kiss. His moan echoes followed by your own as you both lose yourselves in each other. You let go of every menacing thought and just focus on the taste of his lips. 

He pulls back slightly, taking a deep breath as he fills his chest with air. Those beautiful lips are pink and swollen from the heated kiss you just shared with him. Getting rid of the sweater, he tosses it aside as his eyes sparkle with amusement.

Without wasting any time he begins nibbling at your neck, slightly biting onto it as your hands run over his back. He’s so beautiful it takes your breath away. Not to toot your own horn but you have the most gorgeous boyfriend and you’re not ashamed to show him off. 

His lips ghost over your nipples from over your high neck top and you groan.

“Jungkook, please” 

He pulls back with a smug look on his face, “Please what ____?” 

“Please fuck me. I need your cock so bad.” 

“Yeah? Is that what my girl wants?” 

At this point your body is thrumming with anticipation and desire as you watch him move his hands closer to the waistband of your pants. His hands pause when they meet the lace material, his pupils dilate. 

He smiles, “It’s the one I gifted you. Were you hoping for this huh?” 

Your lips stretch into a smile. You hadn’t particularly hoped for this, no, because your relationship with him is not just based on physical pleasures. You guys have sex of course, but it’s not the prominent part of the bond you share. It’s more than that. The lace lingerie set was gifted to you by Jungkook on a random day. It was one of those quote unquote just because gifts. 

“What do you think?” you ask, giving him a quick kiss. 

He grabs you by the back of your neck and holds you there for a moment before leaning back and looking straight into your eyes. “I think you should lose it or else I’ll ruin it” 

You gasp, swatting him on the bicep. “Don’t you dare. It’s my favourite pair”  

Without preamble he picks you off the counter making you wrap your legs around his waist. You both are so close it takes your breath away. Chest to chest, groin to groin, face to face with lips inches away from each other’s as you share a breath. 

He walks into your shared bedroom as you clash your lips against his, pulling his lower one between yours, earning a groan out of him. You both are downright feral, letting your hands run over every area of each other’s body. Jungkook’s hands grabbing your ass, yours pulling on his hair lightly before trailing down his chest, pausing on his pecs. 

When you reach your bedroom, he sits himself down with you on top of his lap. Your hips move forward and you hiss as your still jean clad pussy brushes his cock. He’s so hard you wonder if he’s close to coming already. 

Rough hands scrape over your back, hips, down your thigh before they finally settle on either side of your waist, gipping them tightly but also with a hint of gentleness. One thing you admire about your man is that he doesn’t treat you like a fragile woman, he knows you’re strong and you’ll not break if he’s rough with you. 

Jungkook pulls back from your lips.“Fuck honey, you’re such a goddess. Look at this body. I still can’t believe I get to call you mine” 

You shake your head, totally under his spell. “I’m the lucky one here, baby. You have no idea how lucky I am.” 

His hand brushes over your ass before he dips it inside your pants, reaching your already soaked pussy as he pushes a finger inside you. This earns a whimper from you as you tip your head back. 

“That’s where you’re wrong, ____. Want me to show you how lucky I am?” He takes the finger out before pumping it back again. You moan as his other hand gips the nape of your neck and he brings his mouth to your neck, biting on it. 

“Oh my god” you cry, seeing him suck the finger clean and face forming an expression filled with the deepest level of satisfaction as he closes his eyes. 

Setting his eyes back on you, he sighs, “This isn’t my first time tasting you, honey. But it gets better every fucking time and I find myself craving you an unhealthy amount, you know that? Do you know how crazy I am for you? Could eat you out everyday and wouldn’t need anything else to feel full.” His words send a shiver down your spine. “You’re my favorite meal.” 

He pushes three fingers back inside with a slight force and you let out a scream, arching your back. He takes one nipple into his mouth and gives it a long suck, letting it go with a loud pop. 

“Oh yes, just like that. Suck it again, baby” You beg and he does exactly that as he takes the other sensitive bud into his mouth. 

You’re not sure if you have been this vocal about your needs with anyone before him. Not that you dated a lot, for a person who’s a hopeless romantic to the core you’ve always found yourself waiting for the right one. Additionally, you believed your body to be as sacred as a temple. Surely there had to be a guy somewhere who would treat it as such.

Then, enters Jungkook who not only was out of your league metaphorically but literally. He lived miles away from your place so there was not a chance you could have let anything take place between the both of you. But as they always say, the heart wants what it wants. To put it briefly, there was chemistry, a connection you didn’t want to lose.

Strong fingers pump into you. In and out, in and out. “You’re so wet. What do you say? Should I lick you clean?” 

“Yes, ah oh my goodness that’s sooo good” you toss your head back, slowly grinding against his hands. 

He wraps an arm around your waist, lifts you off his lap and tosses you back on the bed. Keeping his eyes still locked with yours he gets rid of his jogger, letting his cock spring free.

It bobs and you lick your lips, already wanting to take it into your mouth but you know for a fact that he wouldn’t let you do that, not because he doesn’t want you to but because he wants to give you the highest amount of pleasure first. As he always does. 

Jungkook lets out a shaky sigh as gives his cock a pull, his eyes running over your whole body. Up and down then back at your face again. You’re still not fully bare in front of him while he’s standing there, all in his glory. 

“Lose the pants” he commands. 

You immediately slide out of them and toss them on the floor somewhere. He grabs you by the hips, jerking you to the edge of the bed as he sinks down on his knees. Spreading your legs wider he releases a breath. Warmth touches your wet pussy and you prop yourself up by the elbows to look at him. 

You need to look at him if you want to stay sane, have to feel him with you here. Shivers run through you even by the thought of not being able to feel him and this ever again. This might as well be your last day on this god awful planet from the way the ache in your chest keeps on increasing. It makes a home there, not letting you entirely forget about the eventualities. 

“God you’re dripping, honey” 

“For you” you admit.

Hot and wet kisses are left to the inside of your thigh and your hands find the back of his head as you grip it lightly. 

His head lifts up, his eyes finding yours, “Don’t hold back,____. Grip it as tightly as you want to. I don’t want any hesitations because when I fuck you, I’m not going to be holding back. You hear me?” 

A desperate moan leaves you, and he rewards you by kissing your pussy. Keeping his eyes on you, he doesn’t give you a chance to whine out your needs before his tongue is licking a single line up your clit.

He moans and gently tugs on your clit. “Such a perfect cunt” 

You push his head against your pussy and rock forward, chasing your orgasm. 

“Feels so good, feels so perfect, baby” you murmur.

Just when you’re starting to feel the climax incoming, when Jungkook suddenly grabs you by the waist and flips you, so he’s lying down and you’re on top. Then, he grabs you by the back of your neck, pulling you for a heated kiss. 

He pulls back, “Sit on my face, my queen” 

Your eyes widen and you hesitate, but you don’t want to. You wanna let go, knowing you’re lucky enough to get something like this in this lifetime, so you give in. He hoists you up by the hips, positions you over his face and pulls you down. His warm breath feels like a soft whisper against your pussy. 

You cry out in pleasure as soon as his tongue dives deep inside you, squeezing your tits in your hands. Grinding against his face, you close your eyes and just… feel. Feel the heat, feel the emotions, feel the intimacy, feel the ache in your chest.

A thought crosses your head and you wonder if you’re doing something wrong, something selfish. Touching him like this and getting consumed by him feels like you’re doing nothing but ruining him. 

He sucks on your clit with sheer eagerness and desire, pulling you further down so you’re putting your weight on his face. Concern perks up and you look down, trying not to crush him but it seems like he couldn’t care less. 

“Let go, honey. Just focus on my mouth.” 

Let go. God, how bad you hate those words. They feel like acid in your ears. 

“Keep going, Jungkook. Don’t you dare stop” you cry out. 

Soon enough you’re aching your back, cunt pulsing against his lips as you come. He swallows every single drop as if he’d die if he doesn’t and leaves you in awe. You slump, letting your body relax.

Much to your amusement, he doesn’t give you enough time to relax before he’s turning you over until you’re on your knees. Hot passionate kisses are placed on your sweaty back, pulling a gasp from you. 

“What a fucking sight. I wish you could see how stunning you look right now and it’s all because of me, isn’t it? This glistening back, this wet cunt,” he strokes a finger down your pussy, “It’s all because of me and you dare to call yourself lucky?” 

You catch a sight of him stroking himself over your shoulders and your breath quickens. 

His abs are glistening with sweat and his chin still has your cum on it. 

He smirks, “Like what you see, honey” 

“You’re beautiful” 

His eyes soften, letting his hands drop from his angry and already leaking with precum cock, he grabs either side of your hips and lines himself against your needy pussy. You let your head drop on the mattress and clench your fist, preparing yourself for him. He gives your cunt a slight slap with his cock before filling you in, groaning as he goes deeper.

You moan, “Fuck baby. That’s so deep.” 

“You’re so warm, honey. You feel like home” he thrusts again. 

His hands grip yours, and he covers your body with his own, still thrusting inside with rough movements. His chest feels warm and safe against your back as it fills you with a deep sense of safety, protection and love.

You match every thrust of his with your own, moving your hips backwards. Your tits are getting equal attention from him as he pinches the two sensitive buds between his fingers. 

You both chase your high with you screaming out his name and him whispering yours like a prayer. He gives in one last thrust before he’s coming inside you, his teeth biting on your shoulder. You’re following him soon as you grip the bed sheet tighter in your fist, moaning as you come. 

Before you collapse, he pulls you upright and lets his cock slide out of you. His fingers push his cum inside your throbbing cunt, making your stomach twist in pain.

You murmur. “I love you” 

His lips stretch into one of those lazy smiles you love so much. “I love you too, my precious girl. Now, do you wanna sleep or go make those cookies?” a sloppy kiss is pressed on your forehead. 

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders you pull him on top of you, “Should we save those for later? I really wanna cuddle” 

He presses a soft kiss on the tip of your button nose, “Sure. Let me clean you up first. You don’t have to move an inch, just relax.” 

Minutes later he’s coming back with a bottle of water and a bowl of marshmallows. You bite back a chuckle when you look at his face. There’s such a deep crease between his eyebrows you’d think he’s trying to win a game of uno or something. 

But it’s short lived when he places the items on the nightstand and gazes at you, his eyes having the same funny look they had earlier in the kitchen.You try to summon your most unbothered and good natured grin but it doesn’t do shit to stop the electricity from running through your blood. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask, biting your lip.

An uncertain laugh slips out of him, “I don’t know. I’m- God, I really don’t know but I have this weird feeling that something is not right.” He begins cleaning you up but you can’t shake the feeling of nervousness and anxiety away. 

You know for a fact that he’s right. Something is not right, in fact nothing is right. 

He peeks at you from between your legs, “Hey, what is it that you wanted to talk about?” 

The air whooshes out of your lungs. Should you come clean? Is it the right time? 

You huff a tight laugh. “It’s nothing actually. Can we talk about it later?” 

When he’s done cleaning you up he places a small kiss on both your knees and stands up. Offering you a nod, he says, “Whenever you feel like it. I’m not going anywhere” 

Yet. He’s not going anywhere yet. 

You grin, “I wouldn’t let you” 

He lets a laugh slip out as he walks inside the bathroom. Then, he comes back, settles himself beside you and brings you closer by wrapping his arm around your waist. His feet find yours as he touches the anklet with them. 

“Let’s sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up” he promises. 

Morning comes quickly as the sun casts its glow on your sleepy yet excited eyes. Holding out a hand, you try searching for your boyfriend next to you, but a slight sting arises in your heart when he’s not there. You open your eyes, adjusting to the sunlight. 

Although, you hoped you did not wake up, you hoped death consumed you in your sleep because the person across from you is a total stranger. A stranger whose eyes are misty and mouth is pulled down in deep frown, a sunflower bouquet in one hand and the other one holding a blue file so tightly you can see his knuckles turning white.

Jungkook holds out the file to you, “How long were you planning to hide this from me,____?” 

For the first time in your life, you hate your name. You hate how bitter it sounds coming from his mouth like this.It has always been “____, you’re my everything,” “I love you,____”, “_____, you mean the world to me”.

Acid bubbles in your stomach at his words, and you can’t help but sob. You wonder if the butterfly was preparing you for this day. If she could talk, what would she have said to you? 

The words that leave him next might as well be daggers in your chest, "Tell me, honey. Is it the important thing you wanted to talk about but held back just to get a good fuck out of me?"

@fluttershy-vanilla @theyysam37 love you pookies. enjoy <3

[rafecameronsslut4ever]

CASUAL pt.2— lando norris (angst)

pairing; fem!reader x lando norris summary: it took lando too long to realise it wasn't just 'casual'. warnings: a LOT of angst, toxic relationship, sexual implication, not proofread a/n: casual part 2 was not really a part of the plan but the audience had demands 🦧also i think this was too long lmao. AND IM SO SORRY FOR THE LONG DELAY OMG

part 1 - casual

miami grand prix: the biggest pr nightmare for every driver—especially lando norris.

the media had been all over him that weekend, going to the lengths of literally calling him 'the hottest catch on the single market'. hollywood stars and instagram models were so desperate to marry him and have his kids that they didn't catch on the fact that he was a 23-year-old racing driver who couldn't give a fuck about them.

because he was stuck on you.

for weeks, he'd waited—hoping you’d reach out, or at the very least, watch his instagram stories. he posted shirtless photos, sun-kissed photos—hell, he even threw out a thirst trap just for you. But you didn’t take the bait. you didn't take the fucking bait.

you hadn't texted him or spoken to him since the moment you walked out of that hotel room weeks ago, so he didn't try to reach out either. "would've been a blow to my ego," he'd told sainz.

but now, he didn't give a shit about his ego. he was tired of waiting.

his eyes darted across the packed club, friends and guests scattered all around. he couldn't wait to get out of there.

he hadn't been drinking. didn't really feel like it. truth be told, he hadn’t been feeling much of anything at all.

pool parties, clubs, yachts, champagne and girls.

he was tired of the glitz and glam of his life, and you were the only escape from it.

but you were gone.

his mind wandered to that morning, when you had kissed him and the two of you had ordered room service. when he had held you for the last time.

he hated how the only thing on his mind was you. how it was the only thing on his mind all through the celebrations, as hookers danced around him and people tried to pour drinks into his mouth.

for fuck's sake, he had won a grand prix for the first time in his life, and yet he was unhappy.

how did he get here?

he looked up, eyes falling on a group of men in the VIP section, the lights illuminating their faces.

everyone could tell something was off with lando. he didn't want to do any of this.

all he wanted was you. you, you, you.

the girl who had left without an explanation.

why had you left, anyway? no calls, no texts. your friends avoided him, and you avoided his friends. it was like the two of you were nothing.

lando norris was many things, but he was not a fool. he could recognise when something was wrong, or when a situation had escalated beyond his control.

he knew that there was a reason why you left, but the reason never clicked in that thick brain of his. what had he done wrong? where had he gone wrong?

"i'm not feeling too well, mate." he muttered, handing the beer bottle back to the guy standing next to him.

okay, maybe not admitting his feelings for you had fucked things up. but, what could you expect? he didn't have the time to give you what you deserved.

not right now, at least.

lando norris had the world on his fingertips. he could have any girl he wanted. anyone, really.

"what are you waiting for, then?" the other man asked, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"what?"

"just call her, bro. i know it's about a girl because there's no way any sane man would say no to expensive beers and a million hot hookers."

did lando even know this man? probably not.

"i can't call her. she doesn't want to talk to me. trust me, i've tried."

"have you?"

he didn't know how to deal with rejection. not like this, not with you. you weren't supposed to leave.

"judging by your sulkiness, i doubt you're going to find a girl like her again. and you'll never have her if you're here."

lando didn't have a heart of stone, as much as his social media persona might suggest. he didn't care for any of this. the women, the money, the fame.

he wanted to hold you again. kiss you, tell you he loves you. he wanted to hold your hand. he wanted to be near you, and only you.

so, when his feet hit the floor and he found himself walking towards the exit, he wasn't surprised.

yeah, it was foolish of him to leave a party full of women who were celebrating him (literally) for a girl who had ghosted him, but the need was stronger than his pride.

out of the yacht, he was dialling the only number he'd ever memorised. the phone rang, and then it rang again.

would she be wearing his clothes, or would she have gotten rid of everything related to him?

maybe she'd found another man, finally realising that lando was a bad investment.

as the phone rang, you were hidden in your apartment with blankets wrapped around you and a youtube video playing in the background.

it had been months since you'd heard the word 'casual' leave his mouth. months since you had fled london and monaco to move to miami.

at first, his words had echoed in your mind constantly, and you'd cried yourself to sleep a few times more than you'd like to admit.

but just like every heartbroken poet in history, the hurt faded and the pain slowly morphed into hatred. and anger.

you wanted to slam your head against a wall. scratch that, you wanted to slam his head against a wall.

it was so stupid, and you hated yourself for believing he'd been genuine.

it was just sex. that's all it ever was. it truly was just casual.

the phone was still ringing. your finger hesitated over the answer button. you weren't going to answer it.

it wasn't worth it. you didn't want to hear his voice. didn't want him to have the satisfaction of knowing that his words had hurt you. you didn't want to know if he was sleeping around, if his girlfriends were prettier than you.

so the line went dead.

lando stood by the harbour, watching as yachts and ships sailed past him. the air was humid and his t-shirt clung to his body, the heat almost unbearable. the sound of waves, the distant laughter and music, and the sound of his ragged breaths.

he ran his fingers through his hair, looking around. where was his car?

he had to find his way back to his hotel. he was a mess, and his clothes were sticking to his skin. he needed to fix his appearance, buy a bouquet a flowers.

he checked the time on his watch, and cursed as he saw the numbers. it was almost 3 am. he wouldn't find flowers anywhere at 3 am.

"fuck it." he said, running over to his car. the drive was quiet, save for the low hum of music and his occasional swearing when someone drove a little bit slower than he'd like.

lando norris had the world on his fingertips. he could have any girl he wanted. anyone, really. but he only wanted you. he was a hopeless romantic, and you were his muse.

when he pulled up outside the apartment, his nerves were going haywire. he ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath before getting out of the car.

he knocked twice on the door and when it opened, his eyes lit up.

you stared back at him, sleepiness in your eyes and confusion etched on your face.

and god, did you look gorgeous.

he loved you, he realised. he had to cross his hands behind his back to stop them from reaching out and holding you close.

"lando?" you breathed out.

he had grown a slight stubble since you last saw him. his hair were still the same, except a little bit longer. his blue eyes were wide as he looked at you.

"hey," his voice was shaky.

"what the fuck are you doing here?"

he wanted to say so many things. ask you why you left, where it went wrong, why you moved to miami. he wanted to declare his love for you, press his lips to yours, hold you by the waist. he wanted to hear you say that you loved him too.

he was so in love with you, and you had no idea.

"lando? why are you here?" you asked again.

he was at a loss of words. what could he say? he couldn't exactly just stand there and say nothing.

"because," his voice cracked, "i miss you."

your throat went dry. he could not just say that.

it had been weeks. weeks of him not contacting you, weeks of you not speaking to him. the phone calls had stopped, the text messages had stopped, the late night chats had stopped. everything was just gone.

and now, he missed you?

tears welled up in your eyes, a lump forming in your throat. you shook your head, pushing back the tears, "go away."

"what? no, wait. wait. don't do this." he pleaded, his voice fragile and desperate, like a child trying to avoid bedtime.

"lando-"

he interrupted you, voice louder than before. "can we please talk about this?"

"what is there to talk about?" you were raising your voice. you hated him. how could he act like this after all that happened?

"everything. just—please, can i come in?" he sounded so pathetic. he felt so pathetic. his hands were slightly hovering over the door, ready to push it open and walk in.

the request took you by surprise. "i-no."

you missed him. there was no denying that.

you wanted him to tell you it was okay. wanted to go back to that night in his mclaren, the night he told you he liked you. wanted the weekends spent in london with his family. you wanted him, all of him.

his curly hair wrapped around your fingers, blue eyes staring at you, soft lips kissing you. his cold hands grabbing yours, and his voice saying your name. you wanted it to not be casual.

"i just want to talk to you."

he was drunk. there was no other way he would've showed up here, let alone begged to talk to you. the fact that he needed to be drunk to have this conversation made your blood boil.

"do you still have my jacket?"

of course, you still had his stupid jacket. the one that had his smell embedded into the fabric. it was an exclusive print mclaren had given him, and he had swung it around your shoulders after the night you had first made love to each other.

but he didn't care about the jacket, and neither did you. it was just a reminder.

you were silent for a while, taking in the sight of each other. it was his breath mingling with yours.

"i love you." he whispered.

your breath hitched in your throat, the tears finally falling out of your eyes as you sighed.

"i love you," he repeated to himself. "yes, i do. and i've known that since the day i met you."

you choked back sobs as you shook your head, "you're drunk, lando."

"i'm not," he chuckled, "maybe a little, but not enough."

then, he added, "i mean it. i love you." his voice was steady. he truly meant every word. but he didn't know what would happen now.

"what do you want me to say, lando?"

he sighed, "anything."

you laughed bitterly. anything, he said.

anything would've been better than what had happened.

"i don't think i can do this, lando."

"we can take it slow."

"you've never done slow."

he fell silent again because you were right. he'd never done slow. he didn't know how to take things slow. he was a fucking formula 1 driver, after all. slow wasn't something he did. he'd always lived life like it was the last day. and that's how he had lost you.

"i'm sorry," he began, his voice breaking. "i should've been a better person. i'm sorry for everything i did. i should've given you more, i-i should've loved you more, because you deserve so much more. i'm so, so, sorry."

"lando," you whispered, "it's not—"

"don't make excuses for me, please. i love you, i realy do. and if i have to spend the rest of my life proving that, i will." and he meant every word. "i just want you back."

your mind was racing, a million thoughts running through it. it was like a movie. his blue eyes, his voice, the desperation in his tone, the way he stood before you.

"okay," you muttered.

"wait, okay? does that mean—"

"you're gonna have to work for this," you said.

"i know, and i will. i promise."

you sighed, rubbing your temple. this wasn't a good idea. "get in."

lando's face lit up, and before you could change your mind, he had walked into the apartment. he hadn't really been here before, considering you moved here after the two of you had stopped talking. but the apartment was lovely, homely. everything you.

you closed the door behind him, watching him look around the living room.

"how'd you know where i live?"

he chuckled, turning to face you. "i'm a famous driver. i have my sources."

"i'm sure." a tense silence followed, neither of you knowing what to say.

"i'm not letting this happen again," he blurted, "i'm not. i don't know how, but i won't."

"i don't believe you." you scoffed.

"fuck, baby, what do i have to do for you to believe me?" he stepped towards you, closing the distance.

"stop calling me that."

"you are my baby." he tried to joke.

"lando, i'm not joking."

"i'm serious too," his voice was sincere, "i love you, and i'll do whatever it takes for you to believe me."

you had been through a lot together. the highs, the lows. you had seen him at his best, and at his worst. the good and the bad.

he moved closer, reaching a hand out to hold yours. you didn't know why, but the moment his hand touched yours, it was like a switch had flipped inside of you.

you let his hand wander over yours like a ghost, his calloused fingertips tracing over your knuckles. he intertwined your fingers together, eyes casted down.

"i've never cared about anyone the way i care about you." he admitted in a soft voice.

and then he pressed his lips to yours. his other hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

and god, did he taste the same. lando had a way with his lips. it was a talent. he kissed you like he needed your lips to survive. he was desperate for your touch as if he had been starving without it.

you were so lost in the feeling that you hadn't realised how far you had pushed him until the back of his knees hit the couch, and he fell on top of it.

his eyes were wide, mouth hanging open. his shirt was halfway unbuttoned, exposing his chest and toned abs.

the two of you stared at each other, eyes searching the other's.

"i love you." he murmured for what seemed like the hundredth time that night.

maybe it was the way his blue eyes bore into yours, or the way his lips quivered, or maybe it was the fact that he had driven across the city to say this.

but for the first time that night, you believed him. suddenly, the anger was gone. it was all gone.

"i love you, too." you whispered.

it was the only thing the two of you needed. the confirmation, the reassurance. the love.

you leaned down and connected your lips once more, hand reaching up to his curls and tugging lightly. he moaned into the kiss, pulling you on top of him.

your tongue entered his mouth, the taste of him making you lightheaded. his hands roamed over your body, the feeling of his skin against yours.

"baby," he whispered between kisses, "i want you so bad. i've waited so long."

his lips trailed along your jaw and down your neck, sucking marks into the sensitive skin.

"i want you," he murmured against the crook of your neck, "so fucking bad."

but he pulled away, flipping the two of you over so he was on top of you. he took off his shirt, and rested his head on your chest. he cleared his throat, "i should've asked this question earlier, but are you single?"

"yeah." you chuckled, running a hand through his curls.

"so, can i be your boyfriend?"

"lando norris," you hummed, "did you finally get the guts to ask me out?"

"yes," he smiled, lifting his head up to look at you, "yes, i did. will you be my girlfriend?"

"you're a dork."

"that's not an answer."

"yes," you laughed, "yes, i'll be your girlfriend."

lando grinned, and you grinned back.

it wasn't casual anymore.

(u guys im so sorry if i've tagged someone who doesnt want to be tagged i just had no idea how to let non-followers know part 2 is out bcs tumblr is not letting me reply to comments😭if anyone wants their tag removed, feel free to dm me!! i hope u liked this) @oscarpiassrri @meglouise00 @f1fantasys @technicallypleasanttree @ggaslyp1 @obxstiles @nataliambc @prudyhoo @idkwtdwml123 @ushygushybaby @emilyroxy @yootvi @fishingarden @pillowprincess4him @herexpertcollector

[trannykong]

This is the least depressed I have felt in years

[autogyne-redacted]

Let's Talk About Security Culture: Why Keeping Secrets is Cool and Sexy

It's a natural impulse -- if you love crime -- to want to talk about how great it is. And if you hate America, it's only natural to want to share your dreams for its future with the rest of tumblr dot com. It can feel brave and transgressive. And there is a drive to share your soul with the world at the heart of social media. Surely I should be posting the most concrete implications of my politics, right? This is the poster's curse.

Security Culture refers to a set of "best practices" developed over the past several decades, largely (in a US context) coming out of radical environmental groups as they faced intense state repression, infiltration and entrapment. If you're not familiar, there's some fascinating crimethinc write ups to give you a window into that world:

Much of it boils down to: don't talk about crimes, past or forthcoming with people who don't need to know about them, and be mindful of the possibility of surveillance and infiltration. And, we can support each other as a community in minimizing risks, with an eye towards enabling bold action rather than getting bogged down in fears and anxieties. The guidelines that make sense for AG-based trouble-makers are different from the guidelines that make sense for posters, but plenty of common principles apply. To speak briefly to our position here as posters:

First, it bears saying that long term anonymity is nearly impossible to maintain. Unless you've never accessed Tumblr without a vpn, and avoided connections with other ppl who can be associated with you/your location, and never shared pictures without scrubbing metadata, and a bunch of other 100% consistent steps, it's trivial for the state to know who you are.

Second, just because something isn't actively being prosecuted now doesn't mean it can't be prosecuted later. The priorities of the state change and a shift in power towards the right or a growth in radical action from the left can suddenly make it a priority to destroy anarchist networks or just find a few ppl to prosecute as examples (who probably weren't that plugged into larger networks before getting arrested). Advocating for specific anti-government crimes or declarations of intent to commit such crimes are likely prosecutable, and even if charges don't stick, they're an easy vector for legal harassment.

Third, it's worth thinking about heat as separate from prosecutability. There are modes of engagement that may not be directly criminalized but signal that you are someone worth watching. Some people choose to be public in ways that make heat unavoidable. But it's worth noting that heat isn't strictly individualized, that it persists over time but also is going to shrink over time.

It's easy on here, ime, to see yourself as a proud member of the crime fandom but not much of a content creator. And it's easy to feel like you've generated an amount of heat where you're locked into that role. But heat you generated 10 years ago is probably pretty well gone. Heat you generated 5 years ago has faded substantially. It's worth thinking about how the world might shift in the coming years and what doors you want to keep open.

The non-individualized nature of heat also means that leaning into the spiciest of anti-state positions will make it a bad idea for people who are acting out those positions end up tied to you. Loudly talking about how "more people should be doing [X/Y/Z]" unfortunately sets you up to remain distant from people who might be doing or thinking about doing such things.

Which brings me back to: keeping secrets is sexy. Not spelling everything out builds intrigue. You can lay out a theoretical position and leave working out the practical implications of that as an exercise for the reader. There's value in opacity. The poster's curse and the drive to confess are extremely convenient for the state, but we can resist them. We can hold dreams in our hearts that we refuse to offer up to the posting spectacle.

[reidrum]

like i would | s.r

pairing: spencer reid x bau!fem!reader

a/n: ok im gonna be honest idk how i feel about this one, i just wanted to finish it and put it out so apologies in advance if its not the best lol. this was requested with the prompt "i bet he can't fuck you like i can"! feedback and reblogs are always appreciated ! thanks for being paitent while i got this one out <3

cw: 18+ minors dni, smut, fingering, munch!spencer, jealous!spencer, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you whack it), reader's bf has a name which i hate in fics but its so hard to write this trope without a name so, afab!reader,

summary: a confession about your sex life makes it's way to the one person you'd hope wouldn't hear, and now he's determined to rectify the way you've been wronged

wc: 4.5k

_____________

you were a great asset to the bau. it was why you were personally recommended by emily to transfer out of sex crimes, the skill set you brought alongside the field training you had proved to be vital for the team’s success lately. you were also a great asset to the team. the bau was notorious for having people turnover fast, and you knew they were apprehensive with newcomers. but you managed to hit it off with every single member, one more than others.

spencer reid did not expect someone like you to join the team. not that he didn’t have faith in your talents and skills, he’s read your file and obviously knows you’re more than qualified to be here. he just did not expect someone who looked like you to join the team, someone who didn’t look beaten down by the horrors of the world and still believed in pots of gold at the end of rainbows. 

it didn’t help that you were so beautiful he literally would feel his heart ache when you walked in. like literally, would have to rub his chest to soothe the pain. and as spencer would, he would logic out his feelings with science because that’s all they are, scientific chemical reactions in the body. but what he felt in your friendship, what he felt when he was lucky enough to be in your presence, was something no textbook, theorem, or equation could explain.

so imagine the size of the fucking hammer coming down on his head when he finds out you have a boyfriend who: 1. is not him, and 2. is an actual real life bozo.

apparently you’d been seeing damon from organized crime for about a month now, that’s what he heard from penelope, and you ‘claim’ to be super happy. 

spencer doesn’t buy it.

he’s seen the way your ‘relationship’ operates, and he’s got the facts to back it up. damon never lets you get a word in when you’re in group settings, even purposefully talking over you when you’re clearly attempting to speak. majority of the time he’s condescending about your job as a profiler for the bau, saying that him and his team bring down drug rings, but you guys ‘just read their horoscope or whatever and decide the killer.’

it made spencer’s blood boil hotter than the sun. he couldn’t figure out why you put up with it, and why you continue to.

the final straw that broke the camel's back about his disapproval on your relationship choices, is what he overheard on the jet one time on the way back from a case.

the girls were talking in the back of the jet, unaware of spencer’s very awake mind despite his visibly sleeping body.

“i don’t know guys,” you had started with a sigh, “you think it’s weird right?”

“that your own boyfriend won’t go down on you? yeah hon, that’s fucking weird.” emily strikes.

“what did he say exactly?” jj asked.

“he said it increases the risk of STIs on the mouth? and doesn’t like the feeling of thighs crushing his head? and that even with all the … grooming … it’s still unnatural ?”

emily gagged while jj continued, “um…but do you like…on him?”

“yes! he literally won’t touch me unless i do!” you rage whisper.

“i am about to give him an organized crime to deal with,” emily half jokes, “what an asshole, why are you still with him?”

“i don’t know, he’s still nice to me i guess, and maybe i’m just being dramatic. or maybe i’m just not someone people go down on, who knows.” you sigh.

spencer stops listening, he can’t hear you talk so poorly of yourself. not when it’s so far from the truth yet you’ve been indoctrinated to think it’s accurate. how anyone could take advantage of you like that is beyond him, but it did light a fire inside of him and made him determined to help you realize you deserve so much better. if that happens to be him, then who is he to fight that?

—

spencer doesn’t get his chance to prove it to you for another two weeks, when you’d come over to his apartment for a movie night after getting in a fight with damon, your date night being canceled and leading you to spencer’s doorsteps, all dolled up with tears lining your eyes asking to come in.

he doesn’t even have time to be mad at your shithole boyfriend when he’s ushering you inside, offering you to sit on the couch while he goes and put a kettle on the stove for tea.

“i’m really sorry to just show up like this, spence.”

he doesn’t even blink before calling out from the kitchen, “don’t apologize, i’m always here for you. anytime and anywhere.”

you give him a soft smile before returning your gaze to the soft glow of doctor who.

he returns cradling two mugs in one hand and a pack of haribo gummies in the other. spencer doesn’t care for gummies, he’s more of a chocolate guy, but he knows it’s your favorite. so he makes sure to keep a couple bags in his apartment for you.

“my favorite!” you gush. his heart warms at your smile as he sits next to you on the couch. you naturally gravitate towards him to lean your head on his shoulder, and it’s automatic for spencer to wrap an arm around your shoulders to pull you closer.

the whirs and whooshes of the tardis fill the silence for the next hour as you visibly become calmer than when you first arrived. he decides this is a good time to ask, “do you want to talk about it?” as he turns his head to look at you.

“i don’t know,” you say quietly popping another gummy in, “i’m starting to believe it's just a me problem. like, maybe i’m just objectively not a great partner, and that’s why we keep getting in these fights. you know this time, he said i’m not worth all the effort and stress i bring him and that because of me he’s gonna bald at 29? i’m not a scientist like you or anything but even i know that, at least, can’t be my fault.” you end with a chuckle.

spencer knows he should probably comfort you in this time of honesty you’ve graced him with, squash your insecurities like a pesky bug on the windshield, and tell you how beautiful you are in as many words it’ll take for you to believe it (and he knows a lot of words).

but right now? he’s just fucking pissed.

not at you, never at you. at your situation, yes. at that sorry excuse of a partner let alone agent, immensely.

so he can’t help what escapes his mouth next, “why do you let yourself get treated like shit?”

you look up at him in surprise, at both the cursing and what he said, “what?”

“you’re constantly talking about how awful he treats you, and yet everyday you still go back to him knowing it’s going to repeat the next day. i just want to know why you don’t respect yourself enough to not let that happen to you.”

pulling away to sit far from him on the couch,  you start letting the annoyance show on your face, “spencer, that’s not fair at all. you think it’s my fault? do you really think i want to feel like this?”

“yes!” he shouts, “you seem like you do with how much you crawl back to him everytime, and everytime you let him back in.”

“okay, i think i should go,” you stand up and grab your things, “it was a mistake to come here, goodbye spencer.”

he grabs your wrist before you can get too far, “i just have to know, what is it?”

“what’s what spence, let me go.”

“what keeps you going back to him, it can’t be because you love him. it’s obviously not because you’re happy with him,” he lets out.

“you don’t know anything about me or my life, spencer!” you snatch away your arm and start heading towards the door.

“it’s definitely not because the sex is good, because i know it’s not.”

any emotion you had on your face wipes away like an etch a sketch, staring blankly at the door, hearing the man you’ve harbored a crush on since you started at the bureau years ago, telling you he knows your sex life is abysmal.

your voice comes out small, “h- how would you know that?” you don’t dare to turn around, knowing that if you did any resolve you held onto, any denial of emotions you’ve stripped from yourself would come pouring out like a broken dam.

the couch groans at a loss of weight, and the floorboards creak closer and closer to you.

“i heard you, on the jet.”

you’re especially glad he can’t see the blood draining from your face. if your heart already wasn’t at your feet, it’s most likely six feet under at this point. 

he heard you?

“when you were talking with the others about how he doesn’t reciprocate, and won’t sleep with you unless you get him off.” he continues.

the room is getting hotter by the millisecond, temperature about to be comparable to the sun’s core. it’s one thing to have just anyone hear the intimate details of your life, but spencer? the man to which you’d been using damon to get over?

the only sound that can be heard is your increasingly heavy breathing, and spencer feels like he’s caught a fish on his line and is ready to reel you in as he inches closer to you.

“you’re okay with that? not being taken care of in the way you deserve?”

his presence is merely nanometers behind you, the ghost of his fingers looking for landing on your hips. when you don’t move away, and he hears your breath hitch at the contact, he sets his hands more earnestly on your curves as he leans down to the nape of your neck.

“just don’t know,” kiss, “how anyone,” kiss, “wouldn’t want,” kiss, “to give you everything.” kiss.

your head lolls back onto his firm chest as he whispers in your ear, “cat got your tongue, sweetheart? you were so mouthy not even five minutes ago. be honest with me, has he even ever made you come?”

the whimpers escape you without warning and you find a single decibel of voice to speak, “spencer…” hoping the whine would dissuade him to let it go.

“uh uh, i asked you a question,” his arm tightens around the front of your waist to press back and fully feel him, “answer me.”

your lexicon has depleted except for the one word you know he’s desperately waiting for you to say, and the one he knows is the answer. yet you know the second it leaves your mouth, everything changes. and maybe you’re okay with that.

“no.”

spencer hums lowly, “has anyone made you come?”

“no.” you say again, softer this time.

“should we change that?”

this was not what you expected when you came to see him after your failed night out. the amount of processing you’d done in the last year to essentially not be thinking about spencer 24/7 was extensive. and you were ready to render it all useless in a matter of seconds.

so you let the strap of your bag fall down your arm and hit the ground with a thud, and finally turned around to look the good doctor in his eyes. while his voice held traces of anger and frustration, you came to see his eyes were full of reassurance and comfort, the spence you always knew to prioritize your wellbeing more than anything.

he looked down at you and slid his hand to up to cup your jaw, and he hears the smallest murmur, so delicate yet so full of want leave your lips.

“yes.”

that was all spencer needed to catch your lips in a heated kiss, moving your body to the closest wall as he places a hand behind your head to protect you from the wall’s impact while the other pins your waist to the wall.

you move your arms to wrap around his neck and keep him pinned to you with no escape, like he’d ever want to. his lips detach from yours and make a descent towards your neck again, taking deliberate effort to locate the sensitive spots.

he finds one just behind your ear and spends time sucking and bruising up the spot, relishing in the soft whimpers leaving your mouth. while you’re lost in the sensation on your neck, you don’t notice spencer move one of his hands closer to the button of your pants, effortlessly (and impressively) opening it up.

detaching from your neck with a heavy pant, he moves back to lean against your forehead with his own and look you in the eyes to ask, “is this okay? we can stop if you want, i didn’t mean to be so forw-“

“please don’t stop.”

he searches your eyes for any conflict and finds none, considering it the okay to continue his downward descent. he returns his lips to the second home they’ve made on your lips and starts to push your pants down over the curve of your ass, leaving your panties on.

the flash of purple lace underwear glares at him when he glances down, and suddenly he remembers what got him in this position in the first place.

“were you wearing this for him?” he lets out condescendingly, “you really think he deserved to see you like this?”

spencer’s fingers brush against your front, leaving your heavy breaths hitting him in the face. you can’t think of anything to say. hell, you’re not even sure if you know any words right now. all you can offer is a pathetic moan, and spencer doesn’t think that’s enough.

“come on, don’t get all shy now. what were you expecting him to even do, hm? thought you said he didn’t care about making you feel good.” he taunts as his middle finger traces the outlines of your cunt through your panties.

you shudder at the contact, leaning your head back against the wall as he refuses to break eye contact. he’s waiting for you to say something, raising his eyebrows expectantly as he’s slowed down his movements on you. taking a shallow breath you open your mouth, “h-, he didn’t care, just thought if i ke-, kept looking nice he’d wanna, fuck, do something.” you moan out.

“and did he?” he moved his hand back up to slowly slip into your panties.

his finger dips all the way down to your entrance to gather your wetness and spread it all the way back up to your clit, your mouth dropping open as you let out a whiny, “no.”

“what a shame.” he dips a finger into your hole and you let out a pornographic moan.

he drags his finger in and out slowly making sure to watch your face as it contorts in pleasure. once he feels you’ve gotten used to it he slips in a second finger, increasing the pace and moving his thumb to circle your clit again.

“oh fuck,” you cry.

“baby, you’re so tight.” he whispers. the way you clenched around his two digits made feel almost pussy drunk, and he wasn’t even inside you yet. he starts to wonder if damon was doing anything really to prioritize your pleasure, and it only just worked him up more. he felt more determined to bring you to finish, so he picks up the pace and increases the pressure on your clit.

you drop your head to his shoulder no longer being able to hold yourself up anymore, the sensation of his fingers on you taking over, loose whimpers and moans falling out of your mouth every other second.

“spencer…shit, i’m gonna come…”

“let go for me, baby.” he whispers in your ear.

the pleasure barrels through you like a wrecking ball, knocking the wind out of your mind and body. your legs turn into jelly and you almost fall before spencer holds you up. you try to regulate your breathing into his shoulder, hoping to calm down before you look up and meet his eyes again.

he makes that choice for you when he gingerly lifts your head up, his eyes silently asking if you’re okay. you don’t even bother responding before softly pressing your lips to his again, hoping he can feel your response to his silent question.

the kiss picks up in urgency, and soon his hands are back to exploring your body again. they slide down to the backs of your thighs while he murmurs a small, “jump.” and lifts you to wrap your legs around his waist. without breaking the kiss he walks you both to his bedroom and places you on his bed with care.

his fists flank you on both sides as he leans down to kiss you, and he moves further down kissing along your neck and chest. you reach down to the bottom of your top to pull it over your head, leaving you in the purple lacy bra that matches your panties.

he detaches from you and stands at full height, gazing at the sight of you spread out on his bed with your hair framing you like a halo. he can’t even help himself when he says, “you look so beautiful, angel.” the blush rises to your cheeks, and you beckon him to come back down to which he happily obliges.

spencer moves down further towards your hips, and his lips ghost over the lace band spreading along your waist. his fingers play with the fabric and he moves his face to be directly in line with your clothed cunt. your breathing gets heavy, and you anticipate what he’s about to do.

“wait, you don’t, you don’t have to do that, spence. i already came.” starting to feel a bit guilty at the man above you potentially feeling obligated to do this, as you realize that if he heard you on the jet, he heard about the one thing damon refused to do for you.

“sweetheart, i’d love to keep making you feel good as long as you let me, okay? you gonna let me make you feel good?” he breaths, pressing chaste kisses to your inner thighs.

you give a slight nod and he gently pulls your panties off your legs, marveling at the light glistening off your cunt. he kisses up the plush of your thighs before pausing right where you need him the most. you look down at him and meet his unwavering eyes full of love.

he places a long kiss to your core before licking a long stripe. you moan out languishly, the euphoric feeling taking over every sense in your body. you’re unable to comprehend how you went so long without feeling this, it almost feels criminal. and the way spencer was eating you out, felt like this was doing it for him too even though you were the one getting pleasured. 

it turned you on even more to know he was getting off on how much you were enjoying this. your head was spinning off into another realm, and the only thing tethering you to this reality was the grip of your hands in his hair. his tongue made circles and shapes all over your cunt before dipping down to thrust into your hole.

your thighs shake and threaten to clamp shut on his head, and he uses his wide hands to wrap around your thighs to hold them in place. “oh my god fuck, that feels so good…spence…please..” you’re not even sure what you’re begging for, but of course, spencer does when he adds a finger into your hole and moves his tongue to focus back on your clit. the combined sensations were enough to tip you over the edge for the second time tonight, your release glistening on his chin as he moved back up to kiss your lips again.

your heavy panting tries to bring you back down from your high, a mix of sweat and the taste of you lingering everywhere. 

spencer smooths your hair back as he moves his body to lie next to you, “i think, damon’s a fucking loser, if he doesn’t think that’s worth doing.” he says between pants.

you hum in agreement, or just in acknowledgement at whatever he said since you’re still reeling from the endorphin release. hiking your leg over his body to straddle him, you clumsily reach for his belt and attempt to undo the clasps to reach his growing member. you pull his pants down and palm him through his boxers, reveling in the broken moans falling from his mouth. you start inching downwards when spencer grabs you by the forearms and flips you over so you’re back on the bed staring up at him.

“not tonight, sweetheart. it’s about you right now, wanna make sure you know what you deserve.”

“but…” you pathetically respond.

“i don’t know what that neanderthal tells you, but sex is not transactional. i think if i ever see that guy again, i’d punch him for making you think otherwise.”

the words go straight to your core, turning you on even more. spencer takes note of how your pupils widen and your chin tilts up towards him.

“besides,” he presses his crotch to yours, “the sex wasn’t even that good with him, right?”

you moan out again, unable to find words to satisfy his question. he leans back up and off the bed to fully remove his boxers and you finally get a good look at what was underneath.

holy fuck, he was huge. you propped yourself on your forearms to get a better look at him, and watched as he lazily stroked himself while he sauntered back over to you. the image was so lewd, you hoped you could borrow some of his eidetic memory so you could hold on to this moment forever.

his face held a smug smirk at your awestruck one, and he felt his ego inflate even higher, “by the looks of your reaction, i’m guessing he’s never been much of a, challenge, for you in bed has he?”

you dumbly shake your head no, “definitely not as big as you.” you whisper, more to yourself than him.

his smirk grows wider, “don’t worry, baby, i’ll take real good care of you.” he says as he climbs over you to line himself up to your entrance.

you feel him slowly start to push in, the sensation of being split open growing bigger by the second. your brows furrow and your eyes are shut tight as you wait for the pressure to turn into pleasure.

if spencer thought you around his fingers had him pussydrunk, what he’s feeling now has to be close to pussy poisoning or something because he cannot think of anything in existence that feels as good as the walls of your cunt clenching around his cock. it’s taking everything in him to not break, to just fuck you senseless and reach his peak.

once his hips are flush with yours and he’s fully settled within you, he waits for you to give him the okay to move.

you, on the other hand, have never felt more full ever. damon was not nearly this big, nor has any other guy you’ve been with. it’s a bit of a miracle on how it fit inside you, and how it felt better than anything you could’ve imagined. the pressure and slight pain subsides, and with a slight nod spencer takes the cue to start moving.

the first thrust has you both moaning out in harmony together, and he sets the pace nice and slow so as to make sure you’re comfortable.

but it's not enough for you, you need him to fuck you.

“spence…harder.”

he stills at your word, leaning up so he’s perpendicular to you.

“whatever you say, princess.”

and he starts pounding into you, hips rutting at a pace you can’t even keep up with. the whimpers and moans gush out as the familiar coil begins to build within you. he taps your leg to lift it up over his shoulder to allow him deeper access, and he’s able to reach that one spot you’d heard about from all your friends, on reddit, in movies. you had no idea this type of feeling even existed, and spencer was hitting it with precision every single thrust over and over.

“fuck,” you whine.

“that feel good, baby?” he teases, “the way you’re squeezing my cock so tight, i doubt that fucker ever made you feel like this, huh?”

your tits bounce with every thrust, and the deepened angle has you reaching your climax fast. spencer feels it too and drops his head to whisper in your ear.

“i bet he’s never fucked you like this,” he continues his taunt, “he’d never be able to fuck you like i can, make you come three times in one night like i can.”

you whimper, “spencer,”

“say it, sweetheart. say no one’s ever fucked you like me.”

he was trying to kill you, death during intercourse would be a crazy way to go out but it’s a fate you’d be willing to accept. nonetheless, you comply.

“never ever, fuck, been fucked like you, baby.”

spencer has never felt more satisfied, “good girl, now come.” and with a final thrust he lets you reach your peak as he releases himself into you.

in the midst of groans he gingerly pulls out of you and you whimper at the loss.

the next few minutes are just filled with the sounds of yours and his heavy breathing, before spencer leans over to you, “was that too much?”

still in your daze you let out a soft giggle, “spencer, i think you’ve ruined all men for me.”

he smiles back, “i meant what i said, damon’s really stupid if he’s not willing to do all that for you.”

you intertwine your hand with his, “you know, i never really liked him anyway. i was just using him to get over you.”

“me?” he says incredulously.

you nod, “i didn’t know if you would’ve felt the same so i just tried to move on to someone else, stupid i know, but i don’t know it made sense then.”

he pulls you closer to rest in the crevice of his chest, “i have been into you since the day you walked into the bullpen, and letting you slip through my fingers is a mistake i will never make again.”

you hug him tightly before groaning out loud, “shit, i have to tell damon it’s over now don’t i.”

“i mean, i could tell him if you want.”

“spence, no. i think you might kill him.” you laugh, “i can do it, i just don’t want him to get all ‘organized crime’ on me.”

“just tell him i have a gun.”

“so does he?”

“mine’s bigger.” he smirks.

you roll your eyes, “well, yes.”

[kings-highway]

haikyuu airport headcanons bc im in an airport. no particular order. shipping involved.

- Daichi has never missed a flight and somehow everyone manages to make fun of him for this. never forgets to pack anything. always finds his gate on time. "lmao loser," Suga says, missing 2 bags and lost as fuck across the airport. he will not make his flight.

- Hinata and Kageyama navigating an airport is nearly a crisis. They can never agree on the right way to go and especially during layovers will often end up outside of security. The first time they travel with Tsukki + Yama as a group it's like a goddamn miracle because they dont need to rush and everything goes smoothly.

- on that topic, Tsukki and Yamaguchi have travel down to a science. these bitches have checklists and schedules and just get in and out. Tsukki keeps the boarding passes and Yamaguchi counts the bags and they split snacks on the plane and just nail the whole affair

- Noya and Asahi are the most experienced travelers and have been to so many airports and you'd think this makes them good at airports and it does not

- Ushijima has never gotten through security without being searched.

- Oikawa likes airports an unreasonable amount. Bitch thrives in liminal spaces. "Lets go check out which stores are open," he says, as Iwaizumi begs him to let him sit down and nap during their layover

- Kenma has airport anxiety. "We're going to miss our flight. What if our gate changes?" What if there's a delay?" He does not like putting his schedule into the hands of an Airline. Rightfully so, he loses his luggage an obscene amount.

- Kageyama and Hinata fighting and causing a ruckus in the airport and security has to come over to talk to them

- Tendou and Ushijima are generally really prepared and on top of things, but they just seem to have the worst luck. They got stranded at an airport during a layover for like 14 hours and went through every stage of grief. It doesnt help that Ushijima is really practical and good at accepting circumstances ("I'll just sit here and wait") but Tendou is highly emotional ("I'm going to eat the next airline associate that tries to talk to me.")

- Daichi is often seen standing alone in airports. This is because no matter who he's traveling with, he's probably waiting for them to catch up.

- Aran thought he was a good and functional adult until he saw Kita's itinerary for their travel plans and how neurotic he was about making sure everything on time. Kita will pre-measure and weigh all luggage to know exactly whats going on. Looking at airport layouts days before to memorize what needs to be done.

- Atsumu and Osamu have never made a flight on time. The best they can hope for is sprinting across the airport at full-tilt. This is a common occurance.

- Oikawa makes friends wherever he goes so he doesnt mind long layovers, he'll just sit and chat with whoever is around to pass the time, but one time he did leave with a group to check out a store without saying anything and Iwaizumi was lost for 30 minutes

- Asahi has so much anxiety with airports. Too many people. Too many deadlines. Bad vibes. One time a guy in an airport gave him incorrect directions to a gate and he missed his flight and he has never recovered.

- Kuroo "Yeah we have tons of time" Tetsurou is a menace to airport staff and has never budgeted enough time.

- Tsukki is a master at packing efficiently and this is exclusively due to wanting to avoid others complaining. He can pull basically anything out of his carry-on to prevent whining on a 5 hour flight. Yamaguchi uses him like a vending machine.

- Daichi once got mistaken for an airline worker and ended up with a whole group of people he was helping find their gates

- Bokuto loves traveling and flying. He finds it so fun and exciting. This is probably why Akaashi hates traveling and flying.

- Suga secretly likes layovers because he secretly hates planes and cannot stand sitting still for that long. He always pretends it such a hassle to have to wait but its the best part of the travel day when he gets to buy himself a muffin and bother Daichi for entertainment.

- Ushijima, Daichi, Kenma, and Asahi are all team "No PDA in an Airport!!!!!" whereas Tendou, Suga, Kuroo and Noya are all team "We have 2 hours to kill let me make out with you!!!!"

- Yamaguchi has sooooooo many reward points. Tsukishima doesnt even know what he's doing to get them, he's just a master of good deals and specials.

- Mile High Club Members: Iwaoi, Bokuaka, Ushiten, and Asanoya

- Wannabe Mile High Club Members who cannot convince their boyfriends it'll be okay: Suga

- Wannabe Mile High Club Members that will NOT admit they think about it: Yamaguchi, Hinata, Kageyama, Aran

... well im boarding soon so thanks for reading ig

[rafeandonlyrafe]

borrowed clothes

words: 800

warnings: 18+ only, smut, female receiving oral, unprotected p in v sex, mentions of male masturbation, friends to lovers

“rafe, can i borrow your panthers jersey?” you ask, walking into his closet without even waiting for permission.

“you know, you always steal my clothes and never give me any of yours in return.” rafe points out, following you in to the walk in, seeing you already looking through his shirts, trying to find the nfl jersey.

“its sports night, rafe.” you roll your eyes. your favorite bar does themed nights that allow discounted drinks if you come in theme. “you have a million sports things to wear, and i have none.” you remind your best friend.

“all im saying is its unfair.” rafe smiles at you as you find the jersey you were thinking of, knowing his closet better than he does. it’s just a part of being friends for your entire life, best friends.

“okay, here.” you tug your black tshirt off, having planned to wear it underneath rafes jersey, but you can deal with just your bra. rafe looks away from your chest, despite having seen you in just your underwear or swimsuit a million times.

you toss the material at him before tugging the oversized jersey over your head, tucking the front into your tiny miniskirt. “how do i look?” you ask rafe, who is now holding your discarded tshirt in his hand.

rafe nods. “good.” its all he can force himself to say. better than sexy, hot, so good that he wants to bend you over right in the closet and shove that little skirt up and bury his cock in your-

“great!” you smile. “now we gotta find something sporty for you.” you hum, turning back to his closet.

--

“rafey?” you call, entering tanneyhill without knocking. you haven’t asked permission to enter since you were a child, with rafes house being your second home.

“he’s in the shower.” wheezie calls out from the living room.

“thanks wheez!” you ruffle her hair as you walk past, teasing her like she was your own little sister.

you head up to rafes room, flopping onto the bed as you pull your phone out, waiting for rafe to finish up in the shower, hoping he won’t take too long.

you scroll through tiktok, letting out a yawn with a big stretch, readjusting and sliding your hand under rafes pillow. you frown when realize your fingers graze over a weird material, feeling oddly stiff and not something that belongs on rafes bed.

you sit up, moving the pillow to reveal your black tshirt, now covered in white stains. you frown and move it closer to inspect the fabric, eyes widening when you realize what you are holding in your hands.

your mind moves at a thousand miles a minute, realizing that rafe has been jacking off into your shirt. the implications are clear, the one piece of clothing item that he has of yours, and he uses it to get himself off?

you toss the piece of fabric back down, slamming the pillow back on top of it right as rafe opens the bathroom door, towel wrapped around his waist.

“i-i can explain.”

--

“f-fuck!” you shout out, rafes head buried in your cunt, tongue lapping over your pussy, finally tasting you like he's long awaited to. “why did it take us so long to do this?”

rafe just smiles against your cunt, glad that he didn't need to give a real explanation as you hopped off the bed and kissed him, realizing that your feelings echoed his after seeing your tshirt, suddenly feeling just as pent up.

“should have just fucked me instead of cumming all over my shirt.” you whine as his tongue flicks over your clit.

“ill buy you a new one.” rafe sucks your clit into his mouth, determined to make you cum. you let out a cry, your high building.

a shiver spreads throughout your body as rafes mouth brings you to orgasm, a scream being forced out of your body, not caring that there are other people in the house that could hear.

“fuck, you taste so good baby.” rafe moans into your cunt, tongue swiping out again until you gently push his head away, not able to take anymore on your sensitive clit.

rafe rises up, draping himself over your body. he gives you a deep kiss, your arms wrapping around his shoulders.

“i can't believe you were jacking off into my shirt thinking of me.” you giggle. 

“oh god, you're never gonna let me forget that, are you?” rafe groans, moving lower to rub his cock between your folds, soaking it in your wetness.

you laugh before it's cut off by rafes lips.

“can i fuck you y/n?” rafe asks, lining himself up with your entrance.

“yeah.” you nod. “yeah, need you.”

“last chance to rethink this. because once i enter you, we can't just be friends anymore.”

“i know, i know.” you peck a kiss to rafes lips. “hurry up and fuck me already.”

rafe smiles down at you as he slowly presses forward, your walls giving way to his thick cock.

“i love you.” rafe admits with a gasp.

“i love you too.”

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @emma77645 @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart

[lenaswritingandstuff]

Your Teddy ~ Theodore Nott x f!reader (Drabble)

Requested: No

Pairing: Theodore Nott x f!reader

Summary: Theo has only felt pain ever since y/n was kidnapped by Death Eaters, but her return might even be just as painful.

Word count: 811

Warnings: slight mentions of torture; angst; English is not my first language

A/N: I will post the second part on Friday, let me know if you want to be tagged! This is my first time writing for Theo and it's rushed, so I hope it's still alright. Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Sorry for the typos. Hope you enjoy it!

Tag list: @helendeath @im-jesus @wolfyychan

Ignoring the people around him and their confused looks, Theo ran through the corridors, with only four words in his mind - we found miss y/n.  

He had spent three months, three months waiting for her to come back, for her to give him any sign, for her to come back to him, for his whole body and mind to function normally again. It had been three months since y/n had disappeared, captured by Death Eaters one week before winter break. The image of her, defenseless and screaming as she was being tortured had been plaguing Theo ever since, and he hadn’t been able to think of anything else other than he didn't know where y/n was, if she was even alive or not, and what kind of atrocities she was facing. He had completely stopped going to class, stopped going to the Great Hall for meals - despite how many times his friends had asked him to come, saying y/n wouldn’t want him to be like that -, staying in his dorm instead, where even despite the constant closed shutters, he couldn’t even sleep, as he had terrible nightmares of y/n screaming for him as she was being tortured every time he tried to sleep. 

He had tried to look for her, of course. How could he not? But old Dumbledore had anticipated it, and had ordonned him to not leave the castle without a teacher. The first few weeks, Theo had been going almost every day to Dumbledore’s office, asking if there was new information about where y/n was, and he always got the same answer. I’m sorry to tell you that we do not. But trust, Mr Nott, that we are actively looking for her and that I am sure that we will find her. At the beginning, Theo had somehow managed to control his anger and frustration, but at one point, he had screamed at the headmaster, saying that it wasn’t enough, that no one could understand what it was like, and even had broken a few items. 

But, today, Professor Snape had knocked on his door, saying the four words Theo had been dreaming to hear. And now here he was, running to the hospital wing. He only slowed down when he arrived by its door, and, still breathless from the running, immediately opened the door, and then rushed inside to the only bed that was currently occupied. 

“y/n!”

“Mr. Nott, please don’t-”

But Theo ignored Mrs Pomfrey’s words and walked past her, instead going to sit on the bed and hugging y/n’s body as hard as he could. Mrs Pomfrey continued to protest and ask him to stop, but he couldn’t care less. All that mattered was here, in his arms. He gently stroked her hair, feeling his eyes burn with tears. All the pain, stress, fear and anger that he had felt from the moment he learned that she had disappeared faded away, replaced with her warmth presence and the feeling that fucking finally, she was safe, safe in his arms like she was supposed to be. 

“Cazzo, y/n, baby. I missed you so much.” 

You’re here. You’re here. I’m never letting you out of my sight again. 

He slightly detached himself from her but only to kiss her forehead and look at her, look at the face and eyes he had fallen so hard in love with. But instead of looking at him with warm eyes full of love like she always did, there was only confusion - which was also shown in her frowning - and that was the moment he realized she didn’t hug him back, or even touched him at all. 

“Um, I…I’m sorry, but…who are you?” 

If Theo thought he had known pain every second of y/n’s absence, that was nothing compared to the heartbreak her words caused throughout his whole body and mind. He was now also confused, and his arms dropped from her by themselves. 

“y/n…It’s me…Teddy.”

Your Teddy. 

“You…” He had never struggled to find his words so much before. “You don’t recognize me?”

y/n opened her mouth to answer, apparently embarrassed and turned to the matron for help. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Nott, but Miss y/l/n lost all her memories. Professor Dumbledore and I are still trying to figure out why, and how to bring her memory back,” she said with a kind voice, before turning to y/n and putting a hand on her shoulder. “Miss y/l/n, this is Theodore Nott, your boyfriend.” 

No! Not Theodore, not Theo, fucking damn it. It’s Teddy for her. For her and nobody else. Teddy. 

Her Teddy.

y/n nodded and looked at Theo.

“I’m sorry for not remembering you. I can’t remember anything, really.”

Theo rose from the bed. 

“No, I’m sorry.”

Not wanting for an answer, he turned around and left the hospital’s wing, feeling more broken than when he entered it.

PART 2

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[2tarbell]

does twee have a job??? i know you mentioned her being pogue turned kook, im wondering if she’s kept a job she had as a pogue 🤭….

TWEE!READER who is a cart girl! she started the job right before her father came into money and wanted to keep it. mainly because she misses the pogue lifestyle and working makes her feel less guilty about now living in a nice house.

she receives a lot of tips because the players think she’s the cutest thing! rambunctious and teasing, having inside jokes with all the members. in her little cart girl uniform, tight polo and pleated skirt. her striped socks and maryjane’s. hair always done up in some cute style. she’s a natural born people pleaser and can happily stay afloat in the midst of these golf playing men. but only because she doesn’t entertain their foul intentions, too naive to assume anything bad.

but she actually met rafe after her shift ended, parking the cart back in its ‘home’ and gathering her things. he’s just leaving when he passes her by, having been in the carolina sun all day golfing with his boys. they’ve since left and he found himself lingering just a bit more, hoping to catch that cute cart girl he saw at the ninth hole.

he’s handsome, that’s the first thing she notices. and her mind races, hoping to maybe see him on her shift tomorrow. the daydreaming causes her to trip. thankfully, she caught herself before eating shit, not without attracting the attention of the cameron boy, though. his hands shooting out to her shoulders and steadying her.

“you good?”

she smiles sheepishly, smoothing down her hair. twee nods and looks down at her shoes, frowning at the scuff on the leather of her new shoes. goddamnit. when she looks up at him again, eyes squinting in the setting sun, rafe feels his own smile twitching at the corner of his lips.

“sorry— was just… thinking…” she trails off slightly.

rafe actually huffs out a laugh, and she becomes more embarrassed than before. her grimace makes his grin soften.

“don’t worry ‘bout it, yeah? s’all good.”

her little grin is adorable and rafe trails his eyes down her body when she turns to retrieve something from her cart. miles of smooth skin disappearing underneath that short skirt, he can just barely see the lace edge of her panties, until her dainty hand reaches back and pulls the skirt down a little.

“glad you caught me then—“

his eyes snap up back to hers when she turns around with what he assumes is her purse, smirking and crossing his arms. her playfulness isn’t lost on rafe and he finds himself reciprocating, flirting.

“oh, so it’s a habit of yours to trip into eligible bachelors?”

she giggles and rafe knows he’s in.

he sets his jaw, noticing her looking up at him through those dark lashes. she leans back against the cart and crosses one ankle over the other. rafe’s eyes are drawn to the movement and trail slowly up her legs. when he meets her eyes again, she has a knowing smile on her cute face.

“bet you, uh, get a lotta these dudes in trouble, huh?”

the way she cocks her head to the side, an innocent gleam in her eyes, makes his shorts feel just that much tighter. her voice is soft and unsure when she replies, “whaddaya mean?”

rafe shrugs, smiling lazily and scratching his ear. “pretty thing like you workin’ here… dunno, ‘m sure it makes it hard to focus on golf…”

her huff paired with an eye roll makes his chest swell. he can see the smile she’s biting back and chuckles, fishing his phone out of his pocket.

“y’know i— i gotta see you somewhere other than here, if you wanna…” he mumbles lowly, holding the device out.

“y’gonna get me fired, rafe…” she teases.

his name has never sounded so good. rafe places his other hand hand over his heart, grinning at the giggle she lets out at his dramatic gesture.

“i promise, kid, swear on m’life. just one date?”

he’s putting on the works, he knows; charming smirk and narrowing eyes. but, twee is just a girl, in every sense of the word. so when she walks off after giving him her number, hundred dollar tip the handsome boy said was ‘all f’you’ tucked into her bra strap and a promise to text him her work schedule, she can’t hide the smile growing on her face.

rafe can’t hide his either, shaking his head and stuffing his phone back in the pocket of his golf shorts. walking out to his truck, he can’t think of anything else but the apple hairclip she was wearing and that little grin that made his heart stutter.

[les4elliewilliams]

❝SHE’S A MANEATER!❞ – 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞. 

LOSER!ELLIE ﾒ MEAN!READER

❝OH-OH HERE SHE COMES WATCH OUT, GIRL, SHE’LL CHEW YOU UP!❞

ᝰ.ᐟ ⌞SUMMARY⌝﹕After bumping into you on her first day of college, Ellie spends the entire year captivated by you from a distance. You're everything she could never be—popular, wealthy, and effortlessly alluring, with a perfect, disgustingly rich family to match. Convinced she didn’t stand a chance, Ellie resigns herself to watching from the sidelines. But when her best friend Dina suggests they work at a public pool for the summer, Ellie agrees, hoping to save up some money. What she never expected was to find you there, commanding the space with a magnetic, dangerous charm that pulls her in. Now, Ellie’s summer is about to take a turn she never saw coming, and she’s about to find out just how close she can get to you before it all falls apart.

✶.ᐟ ⌞THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS⌝﹕ approx 10k words⨾ cursing⨾ angst⨾ cheating⨾ reader being a bitch for no reason⨾ 18+ CONTENT (porn with plot)⨾ fingering (𝑒!receiving)⨾ cum eating??⨾ pussy slapping ⨾ thigh riding (r!receiving)⨾ reader is a milf lover⨾ coworker!ellie⨾ dom!reader⨾ fem!reader⨾ player!reader x loser!ellie⨾ jealousy issues⨾ use of names (babygirl, sweetheart, baby, babe, slut/whore, etc...)⨾ lmk if i missed anything!

.ᐟ.ᐟ ⌞AUTHOR´S NOTE⌝﹕ last chapter of part one, finally!! I will start working on the sequel soon (hopefully), I PROMISE there's gonna be a happy ending + an extra drabble/chapter🙄. proofread by @sapphichotmess!!

#.ᐟ ⌞TAGLIST⌝﹕@pick-me-up-im-scared @rew1nds @satellitespinner @boobdrug @ivying @elliewilliamsbelovedwife @mina-281 @hysteriawillnotsuccumb @chxrryvalxntine @bookpagecandlescent @fionaapplelover2010 @andersonslove @macaroni676 @elliesbabygirl @vampcubus @visupremacysstuff @elssaphica @kaykeryyy @nenas19 @rxreaqia @fatbootymuncher @dying-brb @euphoric-rush @intothespidersweb @d1psht

#.ᐟ ⌞CHAPTERS⌝ ↯

˗ˏˋ 𝐨𝐧𝐞 ⋆ 𝐭𝐰𝐨 ⋆ 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖 ˎˊ˗

palestine masterpost ⋆ read this ⋆ daily clicks

31st of August.

Ellie desperately tried to stay away from you, avoiding you like the plague, but her efforts never lasted long. You were too radiant to ignore, too mesmerizing not to be near, and too addictive to avoid speaking to. She was drawn back to you, just like every time she tried to walk away. It wasn’t just a simple matter of having her wrapped around your finger; she was completely captivated by you in body, mind, and soul. You had a hold on her in a way that felt like possessing a voodoo doll made of her hair and personal trinkets. She was as dependent on you as a flower is on water and the moon is on the sun, although the sun never relied on the moon to shine.

The redhead observed you as you conversed with a local customer at the pool, a middle-aged single mother with sleek black hair and icy blue eyes, the reincarnation of Megan Fox—except that Megan Fox was still alive. Her piercing gaze might have intimidated others, but not you. Instead, you smiled warmly and laughed softly as she spoke, your widest smile on full display each time she said something amusing.

Ellie didn’t think too much of it; after all, you were always overly sweet and nice to clients, everyone but her and the people who worked with you—or for you. She didn’t think too much of it until that woman scribbled something down on a napkin from the box on the counter, right beside her elbow, that comfortably rested on the black marble. The woman handed it to you, and the smile she gave you after was less polite. Was this shit even allowed in here?

Ellie wanted to come at you, yell, and fuss at you about it, but she held back. She knew you would brush her off and act like you weren’t knuckles deep inside her sopping hole last night and like she hadn’t been chanting your name like you were the fucking holy Mary herself. You’d treat her like you usually did in public: like you despised her, so she avoided that.

She stood by the deck, Jesse at her side, both enveloped in a serene silence. Unbeknownst to her, his deep chocolate eyes had been studying her attentively. His gaze followed hers, fixing on you, who appeared to be flirting with a woman twice your age.

Ever since Ellie started working here, she had been behaving strangely, a fact that didn’t escape Dina’s notice. Despite Dina’s efforts to point it out, Jesse claimed he couldn’t quite see what she was talking about. The brunette strongly believed that her best friend was keeping something from them, acting mysteriously and evasively about her whereabouts. Ellie always seemed busy whenever they wanted to hang out, and she would never fully explain where she was or what she was up to.

Jesse nonchalantly dismissed the situation, attributing Ellie’s behavior to her quirks. There was some truth to his comment—Ellie often guarded her feelings like an ancient mummy, whatever she was going through. Yet, as he observed the jealousy creeping over her face like an ominous shadow, her previously soft features hardening, he knew. Her airy scoff confirmed his suspicions, prompting him to address the issue directly, not treading lightly around the matter.

“Is it her that you’re seeing?” the Asian asked abruptly, his words filled with pure curiosity. He spoke in a hushed tone, making sure their conversation remained private. Ellie’s heart sank at his direct question, causing her to freeze as her face lost whatever color it had, turning even paler than usual. 

Her first thought was, “Is he going to tell Dina?” and then, “Dina’s gonna kill me,” though the latter was a common affirmation that popped into her mind whenever she messed up somehow. Dina often acted like an overprotective mother every second of the day, always quick to scold and lecture her. Not even Maria did that, and she was the closest thing she had to a mother figure.

As her mind raced with uncertainty, Jesse quickly interjected, seeking to soothe her fears with a reassuring tone, “Not gonna tell anyone, y’know.” he said, his voice soft but resolute, sensing her internal conflict.

She exhaled shakily and murmured a quiet, “Yes.” Her eyes darted away from his, finding solace in the chaotic beauty of the pool filled with kids and families. “But she doesn’t want anyone to know,” she added quickly, her gaze dropping to her lap as she chewed on the inside of her cheek.

“Did she tell you why?”

“She’s not ready, she’s not even out yet,” the anxious girl explained with a huff, reluctantly meeting his eyes again. She could already feel his judgment, knew he’d think she was being naive, and that she should end things before it got worse.

“Is she serious about it?” he couldn’t help but retort, a hint of disbelief in his voice. He’d just seen you flirting with another woman moments ago, the memory fresh and irritating.

“It’s... we’re just hooking up,” Ellie revealed, her voice barely above a whisper.

“So it’s not.”

“No, it’s just too early to say. She said she needs time to—” Jesse’s sarcastic scoff cut her off. She gave him a puzzled look, her brows arching in confusion. “What?”

“You’re not that fucking dumb, are you?” he rhetorically asked, his voice quiet and scolding, careful to keep their conversation private.

“What—I’m not being stupid. She needs time. We talked about it last night—I can’t force her to come out when she doesn’t feel ready. It’s not fair to her.” Ellie’s tone grew defensive, a shield against his skepticism. But she knew he was right. This whole hookup thing wasn’t something she even wanted. 

“Yeah. How long has she been telling you she needs time?” Jesse shot back quickly, his words like arrows, ready to prove his point.

Ellie stayed quiet for a moment, the weight of his question hanging heavy between them. “‘S not like that,” she finally mumbled.

“What is it like then?” he challenged, not missing a beat. “Look—you do you, man. If you’re happy, I’m happy and all that shit. But she doesn’t exactly have a good reputation. She’s gonna break your heart,” he stated with a frustrating certainty.

“You don’t know that,” she snapped back, her voice laced with desperation.

“Neither do you.” A sarcastic chuckle from her friend broke the tension between them. “I really hope you don’t get hurt in the end,” he concluded, getting up and casually strolling away after a few kids who weren’t wearing their swimming caps, his trustworthy whistle in his hand.

Ellie watched him walk away, a rush of conflicting emotions flooding through her. Anger and doubt churned within her as she turned her gaze back to the pool, the cheerful laughter of the children now fading into the background. Lost in her thoughts, she was startled when you sat down on the white plastic chair beside her. “Hey, Nelly,” you said, your tone cool and composed, maintaining your mean-girl facade, especially in the presence of others. Your mask remained firmly in place, a deliberate refusal to show vulnerability. Despite your determination to be different from your parents, who prioritized outward appearances, you couldn’t help but feel like you were following in their footsteps. The apple did not fall too far from the tree.

“Hey,” Ellie greeted, her usually buoyant tone noticeably absent.

You turned to look at her, your eyebrow raising in a perfect arc as you gazed at her inquisitively. “What’s with the attitude?”

The autumn-haired girl found herself unable to shake off Jesse’s words. They reverberated through her mind, planting seeds of doubt and uncertainty. She desperately wished Jesse had misjudged you; he didn’t know you like she did. How could he possibly pass judgment without truly knowing you? Yet, a rational part of her refused to be silenced, urging her to pay heed to those nagging doubts and not to confuse overthinking with intuition.

Ellie’s words slipped out before she could stop herself, her tone accusatory and colder than she intended. “What’s with that woman who just gave you her number?”

You looked back at her in surprise, and your lips formed an “oh” before you quickly offered a plausible excuse. “Babysitting.”

“Babysitting?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she locked eyes with you, her expression oozing with skepticism. “Since when do you even babysit?”

“It’s always been something I’ve done,” you replied, unfazed by her doubt.

“Sure, like you really need the extra cash,” she quipped, still skeptical.

“I really do. I can’t keep relying on my parents for everything,” you calmly asserted. There was no hint of defensiveness in your voice; you spoke with a sense of certainty, that it made her feel stupid for questioning your commitment, but she didn’t let it show. 

“Okay,” she sighed out, her shoulders slumping as she exhaled, feeling the weight lift off her shoulders.

“Are you coming to the beach tonight? There’s going to be a campfire and free drinks,” you asked, propping your elbows on the arms of the plastic chair as you leaned back, smirking in her direction.

“Yeah, gonna see you there?” the freckled girl inquired with a touch of optimism reflected in her expression. The sun beamed down on her, highlighting her green eyes, making them appear even more vibrant and clear.

“Of course, you’re going to see me there.” your smile grew wider as you replied.

And she did see you there, locked in a passionate kiss with some nameless guy on a bench. 

Ellie’s heart splintered into thousands of fragments. It felt as if her insides plunged deeper than the Titanic, the weight of her emotions pressing them down. Despite the overwhelming urge to scream and cry, she found herself unable to produce any sound. Her eyes remained dry, failing to well up with the salty tears that typically accompanied emotional pain. The sea wind tousled her auburn hair, leaving a faint, familiar saltiness behind. Her skin was ablaze, and her stomach churned with disgust, threatening to expel its contents. 

Everyone had warned her about you, and they had been right all along.

You didn’t give a damn, you never did. Were any of the sweet words you whispered to her even true? Was she just one of many? Ellie’s mind was a whirlwind of endless questions, most of them rooted in self-doubt. She wasn’t good enough for you, she’d never been. She was never going to measure up to your standards, to your expectations. She was never enough. You were flawless, admired, it only made sense that someone like you would never genuinely desire someone like her. Why would you? She wasn’t attractive, wealthy, or widely liked. She was just an unremarkable, tangled mess of poor humor and peculiarities. You, however, were a living Greek god, cruelly playing with her mind, and shamelessly taking more and more of her, each time she gave you everything she had to offer.

It felt as if Cupid himself had conspired against her, allowing her to experience and savor something that would never belong to her. Unbeknownst to her, even something as lovely as a lily, one of the most exquisite blossoms, could conceal danger beneath its pink velvety petals. She was like a curious cat, irresistibly drawn to the intrigue and allure of the forbidden flower, unaware of its poisonous nature.

3rd of September.

The following days were plagued with ignored phone calls and messages left on read. Ellie had given you the cold shoulder; her silent treatment was supposed to be a form of punishment, but it didn’t last long. 

You explained everything, saying it was a misunderstanding, revealing that the guy named Jason had kissed you without your consent and that you had forcefully pushed him away. Ellie left hastily, missing the part where you had angrily stormed off after rejecting his advances. 

The auburnette felt a wave of reassurance, knowing that she was the only one for you, that your eyes were solely for her. She trusted you wholeheartedly.

And you were back in her life, in her house, in her bed, between her thighs. 

Your spit drenched her aching core, cascading over her engorged clit, the pink throbbing bud begging for your attention. The sight of her slick, swollen folds will never stop driving you crazy. Put on display for your eyes only, as sweet as the ripest fruit. Her pussy quivered beneath your gaze, and a sharp slap to her wet cunt echoed through the room, making her whimper, her hips stuttering and jerking, eyes flashing open to meet yours. “Look at this pussy… so fucking messy, baby,” you purred, a wicked grin curling at the corners of your lips. The look in your eyes was one of an insatiable beast, ready to take away from her once again.

“Stop fuckin’ teasing me,” Ellie whined, her hips bucking frantically against the warm palm nestled on her throbbing core. Her breath hitched as your thumb danced with her arousal, teasing her sensitive clit.  “Can’t take it anymore,” she choked out. Desperation began to etch itself into her captivating features as her fluffy, scarred brows contracted together. This subtle expression only seemed to heighten her already striking appearance, adding a sense of vulnerability that made your head spin. 

“Hm... Quit acting like a brat and hold still for me,” you spat, your gaze locked onto hers, “Beg for it, and I might just give it to you.”

Ellie’s heart hammered in her chest at your authoritative tone, her body responding instinctively to your dominance. A shiver coursed through her spine, and a flush of heat spread across her cheeks. She bit her lip, trying to hold still and control the urge to squirm under your touch, her breathing growing shallow with anticipation and need.

Her voice cracked as she begged, “Please.” One of her hands reached out, desperate to grab your free hand. But the freckled girl’s weak pleas met deaf ears; it wasn’t enough for you, she could do better. Her moss-green eyes pleaded with you as she watched your thumb trace small circles on her hip, keeping her in place.

Your lips brushed against the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs, teasing her mercilessly, your touch intentionally calculated to drive her wild. You knew exactly how to play your cards right, how to play her like a finely tuned instrument, and it amused you how easy it was to reduce her to a quivering, whiny mess. But you relished in her simplicity, in how the smallest actions could ignite such a strong reaction from her.

“Please,” Ellie’s breaths came in small, shuddered gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly with each inhale and exhale. Her mind was filled with nothing but you and how you made her feel. “Please, please, I missed you.” Her words’ raspy, vulnerable tone was like music to your ears, pleasing your ego at the knowledge that she depended on you, that she was putty in your hands. Her vulnerability only highlighted how completely she was under your control, and the feeling was flattering and exhilarating. The auburnette submitted to you so easily, without questioning it or fighting back; it was cute, really. She let you play with her body however, whenever, and wherever you liked.

“Missed me, yeah?” You smirked at her, your voice dripping with confidence as you cooed softly. 

Ellie didn’t even need to confirm it to you. You could see how much she had missed you, how much she had craved your touch and sweet lies. The freckled girl melted in your arms the second you drove to her house after hours of begging to see you. She needed to see you, needed to feel you, kiss you, touch you. Her heart skipped a beat as her gaze met yours, your eagerness for her evident in every line and muscle of your body. She felt wanted, desired, and important whenever she was in your presence, and the feeling was addictive. Perhaps that was what she loved the most about being with you—the feeling of being so completely desired, so utterly needed. She found herself questioning if anyone had ever made her feel this way before. Certainly not her ex-girlfriends (or situationships); they paled in comparison to how you made her feel. You had the ability to make her feel like a teenager in love for the first time again, like a virgin exploring uncharted territory.

“Couldn’t get off without your help,” Ellie’s voice was soft and vulnerable as she confessed her weakness for you, the pout on her face almost making your heart lurch.  

“Such a fucking needy slut,” You chuckled dryly, your eyes focused intently on her, drinking in her every reaction as if she was the most fascinating thing you’d ever seen. She was sprawled out before you, all spread out and vulnerable, her core glistening with arousal and your spit, begging for your touch, yet not giving her what she craved the most.

“Please, I need you.” She pleaded one last time, her voice soft and desperate, her body trembling as your thumb began to tease her aching bud. A stifled moan escaped her lips as the pleasure washed over her, causing her to gasp in response. 

“You all good up there?” You taunted her, struggling to contain a small chuckle at her frustration. Her freckled face was flushed, her cheeks tinted with a blush that betrayed her embarrassment. You had barely even touched her, and yet she was already losing her shit, her body responding eagerly to your every caress. 

“Yeah, just…” The auburnette’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, trying with all her might to hold back the lewd noises that threatened to escape. 

“Just?” you prompted, your fingers continuing to move over her sensitive folds, feeling her slickness. You began to rub at her entrance, making her squirm and moan; she had been craving your touch and attention so much that it almost made her insane. “Fuck, look at you, baby girl.” you husked under your breath. “So needy for me.” It was downright lewd how drenched Ellie was for you, her pink pussy glistened with pearly precum, making your mouth water at the sight. It was like homemade chocolate chip cookies, the kind that could make anyone salivate, especially when they were still warm and the aroma of sweetness filled the air. She had the same exact effect on you. She tasted exquisite, and you just couldn't get enough, always craving more of her, just like she craved more of you.

Ellie’s breath hitched as your middle finger teased her entrance, moving painfully slow. She could tell you were doing it on purpose. You were never known for your patience, but you were taking your sweet time with her, making her feel every little movement. The sensations were overwhelming, and she knew you were doing it intentionally to drive her crazy. “M-more… nghh… fuck.” Her back arched in response, her hand gripping yours tightly as she desperately tried to push her hips further down onto your fingers.

Your eyes were glued to her starved cunt and the way your finger disappeared into her so easily, swallowing it shamelessly; her warm walls pulsated around your digit, and tiny, little puffs of breath escaped her lips as she struggled to hold herself together. Every breath she took strained with the effort to keep herself composed, her face a beautiful contradiction of desire and restraint. 

“You weren’t lying, huh? You really did miss me.” You chuckled, amused, the circles on her clit growing faster as your finger moved slowly in and out of her, maintaining a steady, teasing rhythm. 

“I wasn’t,” Ellie said breathlessly, as if a powerful force had drained all the breath away from her. 

You smirked at her confirmation; she depended on you as much as you depended on every little sound she let out for you, urging you to go on. It was what replayed in your head whenever you finger-fucked your own needy hole, clenching her name around your fingers. You had missed her so much. You missed the feeling of her cunt spasming around your fingers, the high-pitched and persistent mewls that came with her impending orgasm, the arch of her back, her abdomen tensing and contracting whenever you fucked her way too fast for her to keep up.

“What about the nudes I sent you, hm?” you questioned, your voice as soft as cotton, caressing all her senses like some melody that haunted her every dream.

Her breaths came in shallow gasps, each one a plea, a prayer for more. The sight of the freckled girl—so vulnerable, so open—stirred something primal within you. You watched how her body responded to your touch, how her skin flushed and her muscles tensed under your fingertips. The slick heat of her, the way she pulsated around your finger, was intoxicating. 

Ellie remembered the late nights, alone in her bed, your photos lighting up her screen. The way she’d trace the curves of your body with her eyes, imagining her hands in their place. The way she’d whisper your name, a litany of desire, as she plunged her fingers into her own wet heat, pretending it was you. But even then, it wasn’t enough. 

Those fantasies paled in comparison to reality. 

“Fucking slut… did you touch yourself thinking of me?” you murmured, your voice a low purr that sent shivers down her spine. “Did you imagine my fingers inside you, like this?”

Her response was a choked moan, her hips rocking against your hand, seeking more. You pressed a kiss to her thigh, your breath hot against her skin, savoring the way she writhed under your touch. 

She gasped as you added another finger, complying with her silent request for more. “Needed m- ahhh… more than—” words failed her as you began to pump them in and out of her faster, her legs twitching each time you brushed that spongy spot inside her just to make her little brain go blank. What a brainless fucking whore.

“Than what? Finish your sentence, sweetheart. What do you need from me?” Your voice was a perfect and deadly mix of sultriness and honey sweetness.

“Needed you to fuck me,” Ellie’s voice turned whiny and high-pitched, sounding like she was about to cry. She sighed complacently when you slammed your fingers deeper inside her in response. She had truly been trying to get off to your pictures, your tits out of your black lacy bra for her to see, but it wasn’t enough. All she could think about was the aching absence of your touch and how desperately she longed to lay her dirty hands on your sacred body. It hit her then that she was utterly ruined, unable to get off without your assistance anymore; you had thoroughly spoiled her and her body, and her mind had been reprogrammed to crave you for every desire, however big or small. 

“Like this, yeah?” A frenetic nod was all you got in return. Your glistening fingers continued their relentless movements, and your thumb flicked her puffy clit.

Each pump drew a curse from her. Her breaths were shallow gasps punctuated by moans that seemed to come from the depths of her soul. You could feel her inner walls contracting around your fingers, her slick heat enveloping you in a way that made your own core ache. 

“Fuck… close?” Her response was a breathless sob, freckled body arching off the bed as her orgasm built, a storm gathering strength. You could see it in the way her muscles tensed, the way her breaths came faster, more erratic.

“Please,” she begged, barely more than a breathy whisper. “Please, I need—”

“I know, baby. I know.” Your thumb circled her clit with a newfound intensity, your fingers curling inside her just right, hitting her g-spot with precision. “Come for me.”

The auburnette’s eyelids fluttered shut and her head fell back into the soft embrace of her light blue pillow. You marveled at the expression of blissful ecstasy dancing across her face, watching her lips form incoherent words that echoed through the room. With a final, shuddering cry, she came apart, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm. Her inner walls pulsed around your fingers, her juices coating your hand as you worked her through it, drawing out every last bit of pleasure, making every moment last longer, leaving her wholly spent and utterly satiated.

When all her nectar coated your fingers, you gently withdrew your digits, eager to taste her. The taste was rather divine, like nothing you had ever tasted, a taste uniquely hers. Something you couldn’t quite find anywhere else. “You taste delicious,” you commented with a sly smile.

Ellie was winded and her face glistening with a sheen of sweat, dilated pupils fixing on yours as she tried to catch breath, her parted lips letting puffs of air in and out, unevenly. “Do I?”

“Hmm-hmm,” you hummed, crawling on top of her and settling into her lap. She lazily wrapped her arms around your waist, her damp, freckled back sticking against the headboard as she sat up slightly. The soft sheets rustled beneath you, adding to the moment’s intimacy.

Your eyes locked, an intense connection sparking between you. Ellie’s gaze seemed to drown in your irises, captivated by every little sparkle, every shade and discolored spot. A stupidly soft smile spread across her face, as if she were staring at the most precious thing in her life. The room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this shared bubble of affection.

“You’re so pretty, y’know that?” Her voice was like a gentle whisper, with a hint of raspiness as she delicately tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. Her touch sent a shiver down your spine.

You hummed at her words, a playful smirk curling your lips. “Yeah, I get that quite a lot.”

The auburnette scoffed in mock disbelief, her brows arching dramatically. “Oh really? Who dared to compliment my girl, hm?” Feigning jealousy, she pulled you closer by your waist. “Gonna have to beat them up,” she muttered sarcastically under her breath, her tone light and teasing.

You couldn’t help but giggle softly, the sound mingling with the moment’s warmth. Ellie’s playful protectiveness only made your heart swell more, and you leaned in, your foreheads touching. 

She pulled you flush against her, your bare chest sticking to hers, the sweat covering her body almost acting as a glue binding you together. Her face nestled into the crook of your neck, deeply inhaling your scent as she closed her eyes, leaving a trail of soft kisses along your skin.

“Hmm… what’re you doing?” you whispered, melting into her touch.

“Tryna make you feel good—can’t I make my favorite girl feel good?” Her voice was a hushed murmur against your neck, a blend of warmth and affection. A small, breathy laugh was all you could manage in response, tilting your head slightly to give her better access. Her hands wandered up and down your sides, leaving a tingling path in their wake.

“You sure your dad won’t be home anytime soon?” you asked, a hint of nervousness lacing your voice as you tried to pull away. Each time you leaned back, she’d draw you closer, unwilling to let go.

“He won’t be until tomorrow,” she muttered between the kisses she peppered along your neck, “Relax and let me take care of you.” Her lips slowly trailed up your jaw, finally capturing yours in a sweet, lingering kiss, pouring all her feelings into it. Her hands pulled you close with a hunger that spoke of a desire to absorb you, to make you a part of her very being.

Your eyes fluttered shut, arms wrapping around her neck as you lost yourselves in the kiss.

One of your hands found its way to her little bun, fingers playing and gently tugging at it. The kiss was slow and tender, a stark contrast to the usual fervor you shared. It felt as if the world around you had shifted, the atmosphere turning more intimate, echoing the same familiar yet foreign sensation that had enveloped you that afternoon in the shower.

A moan reverberated against the freckled girl’s lips, resonating like a tender symphony, compelling her to savor its melody, to capture it and make it her own. Yet, an insatiable yearning gnawed at her core, craving something deeper, something beyond the mere physical.

When you parted, breathless and hearts pounding in synchrony, the connection between your gazes transformed the moment into an eternal tableau. 

“Will you let me take control this time?” Ellie mumbled, her voice soft as silk, her words a delicate caress that brushed against your senses like the first light of dawn. A smile played on her perfect, heart-shaped lips, a subtle curve that promised both mischief and tenderness.

“Hey, it’s not my fault you’re a pillow princess,” you teased, a smirk tugging at your mouth, the playful jab rolling off your tongue with ease.

Ellie’s eyes sparkled with amusement, softly gasping as if you’d just said the most outrageous thing. "I am not!" she protested, her jaw dropping in a show of mock indignation, though the laughter in her eyes gave her away.

“Are so,” you shot back, not missing a beat.

She shook her head, a pout forming as she defended herself, her voice laced with a mix of defiance and a touch of longing. “You never let me take control,” she countered, eyebrows arching as she tried to make her point.

“As if you’ve ever tried,” you quipped, your smirk widening, knowing exactly how to push her buttons.

“I did try, you just never let me,” she insisted, her tone soft yet pointed, like she was stating an undeniable truth. “You always push me down and do whatever,” she added, her words tinged with just the right amount of accusation.

“Maybe you didn’t try hard enough,” you challenged, the playful edge in your voice unmistakable as the banter continued to flow between you, each word filled with barely contained desire.

Her brows shot up, eyes gleaming with the thrill of the challenge. “Oh, is that so?” Ellie smirked, accepting the unspoken dare. Without missing a beat, she shifted you onto her thigh, her hands firm but gentle as she guided you, ensuring that her thigh was perfectly placed between your own.

“Is that it? You want me to ride your thigh?” you chuckled, a playful glint in your eyes as the absurdity of the situation hit you, making you bite back a laugh.

“C’mon, cowgirl, show me your moves,” she teased, her tone lighthearted, yet there was an undeniable heat beneath her words. Her hands guided your hips, encouraging you to move against her, the friction deliciously teasing, her comical words pulling a soft laugh from you.

“Cowgirl?” you echoed, amusement threading through your voice as your hands found their place on her shoulders for balance. Slowly, you began to move, a back-and-forth rhythm building, her toned thigh pressing against your most sensitive spot.

“Well, I don’t have a strap yet, so…” the redhead offered with a playful shrug, her nonchalance almost comical in its delivery.

“Yet?” you repeated, your eyebrow arching as curiosity piqued, the simple word holding a world of possibilities.

“Mhm, yet,” she confirmed with a sly smile, her hands tightening on your hip bones, pressing you down onto her thigh with just the right amount of pressure. The heat of her skin against your wetness sent a shiver up your spine, her own breath hitching at the intimate contact. 

That’s why she never took control—because, as much as she wanted to, you made her weak in the knees, her heart race, and her breath catch in her throat. 

As you rocked against her, a muffled whimper escaped your lips, a sound she drank in like the sweetest melody, and for a moment, the room was filled with nothing but your breathless sighs, your shared laughter, and the electric tension between you, growing hotter with every passing second.

“Does it feel good, yeah?” Ellie whispered, her face so close to yours that your breaths mingled, a shared warmth in the small space between you.

“Yeah, you feel good,” you murmured back, her green eyes utterly captivated by the rhythm of your hips as they rolled against her. You didn’t need her to guide you, every movement was instinctual, as natural as breathing. Her breath caught in her throat, almost as if she were the one trying to get off on your thigh, mesmerized by the glistening trail you left behind. 

“Fuck, look at that,” she breathed out, her voice thick with awe and desire.

Immaculate mewls spilled from your lips as her hands tightened on your hips, urging you to move faster, her fingers digging into your skin like she never wanted to let you go. “Just like that… atta girl,” the red-brown-haired girl encouraged, her words a soothing balm that only stoked the fire burning in your belly.

You leaned into her, your breasts pressing against her chest, your face nuzzling into the crook of her neck, seeking her out like a lifeline. Ellie responded in kind, her lips finding the beauty marks on your shoulders, kissing them as if tracing an invisible constellation only she could see. Your breathy moans, warm and desperate, hit the back of her neck, sending shivers cascading down her spine, weakening her resolve with each shaky exhale.

“You feel so good,” you purred in her ear, your voice sweet yet intoxicating, like honey laced with something dangerous. Your breath tickled that sensitive spot behind her ear, goosebumps erupting on her skin as butterflies danced wildly in her stomach. Feeling your heat seep into her, feeling you so close, so alive against her—she knew she’d never get enough of you.

“So does your pussy... all wet for me,” she rasped out, pulling you even closer, as if trying to merge your bodies into one. Your ragged breathing was like music to her ears, each pant and whimper a testament to how perfectly she was taking care of you. You continued to grind against her thigh, the tension in your lower abdomen coiling tighter with each roll of your hips, your clit moving in a maddening rhythm that made you whimper against her freckled skin.

“Fuck…” you breathed out, the word slipping from your lips like a prayer. “All wet for you,” you echoed absentmindedly, the urgency in your movements growing, driven by the mounting pressure, each second pulling you closer to the edge. Your fingers tangled in her red hair, tightening as your eyes fluttered shut, your breaths growing more erratic. 

Watching you ride her like this was the hottest thing Ellie had ever seen. It made her pulse quicken and her thoughts spiral into fantasies—fantasies of you riding her strap instead, making you tremble like a leaf, scream her name in ecstasy. She wondered if your sinful moans and cries would haunt her dreams every night; it seemed like a plausible fate.

“Mine… alllll mine,” she murmured in your ear, her hands tracing your sides with a tenderness that belied the intensity of the moment, holding you as if you were something precious and fragile, something that could shatter at any moment. 

Your soft gasps were like a tantalizing torture, making her sage-hued eyes roll back in bliss. You were so addictive, and she was like an addict, desperate for every sound, every breath you gave her. “Hmm, yeah,” you whispered breathlessly back, your voice mindless yet so full of emotion, causing her heart to flip and twist in ways she never thought possible.

Ellie gently cupped your chin, turning your face toward hers, never once stopping the hypnotic roll of your hips. Her thumb pressed lightly against your chin, holding you there, your eyes locked onto hers, sharing a silent conversation only the two of you could understand.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” she husked, her words like a spell, and you were powerless against them. Your gaze fell to her lips, mesmerized by the way they formed each tender word. She leaned in, kissing you softly but with a passion that ignited every nerve in your body. It was strange and new, yet it felt like something that was always meant to happen. 

Her freckled arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, and your arms looped around her neck, holding her as if letting go would mean losing everything. Your hips never stopped moving, the rhythm growing more frantic, your ragged breaths mingling, creating an orchestral piece of pure, unfiltered desire.

And then, the tension inside you snapped, sending shockwaves through your body. It was an explosion, not just of pleasure, but of everything Ellie had tried to keep buried, every emotion you had stirred up in her. You pulled away from the kiss, gasping for air, both from the intensity of your climax and the kiss that had stolen your breath away. Your damp foreheads pressed together, her eyes boring into yours, one of her hands trailing over your body, touching you with a familiarity that sent shivers down your spine.

“Fuck, Ellie…” Your voice cracked and trembled, a raw, visceral expression of the overwhelming pleasure that had just consumed you.

“I love you.” Three words, so simple and yet so difficult to say out loud. Ellie hadn’t realized she’d let them slip out until your movements halted, a look of confusion veiling your face. 

The sound of heavy breathing—the aftereffects of your activity—filled the room. You were still trying to recover, your body still trembling with euphoria, and the words had become lost in the maelstrom of the intense orgasm. Ellie’s heart felt like a wild animal, a gazelle on the plains of the Serengeti, drumming relentlessly against her ribcage as she waited for your response, anxiously anticipating what you would say next, the tension in the air thick like the humidity in a dense rainforest.

“What?” You asked the question in a meek, quiet voice, your breathing harsh and labored. It was as if life had drained from your face, leaving only a shell of shock and disbelief behind. 

There was absolute silence in the air, everything frozen in that moment. Ellie couldn’t even hear her heartbeat; it felt like time had come to a standstill. Everything seemed to move either unbearably slowly or excruciatingly fast, leaving her overwhelmed and out of control.

“Uh… I—” Ellie’s words stumbled and stuck in her throat as she tried to repeat the three simple words again. She could feel a palpable shift in the air around you, a barrier going up between you despite your physical closeness. 

For a brief moment, vulnerability flickered across your face, your eyes bare and exposed to her gaze, as though you had let your guard down and allowed her to see through you. But the mask quickly returned, your features hardening once more. You slowly withdrew from her thigh, sitting beside her instead, exhaling deeply, a look of disbelief etched on your face. The cinnamon-haired girl watched as your lips parted and your eyelids fluttered shut, knowing that you were trying to make sense of her confession and formulate a response. She held her breath, hoping you would tell her that you felt the same, that you longed for a serious relationship and were ready to take that next step together. But the words that slipped out of your mouth were the opposite of what she was expecting, leaving her heart sinking in her chest.

“I can’t.” Your head shook slightly, a nonverbal “no” that sent a shiver down Ellie’s spine. Her heart plummeted, as though it had leaped off the edge of a towering cliff only to smash into a million pieces upon impact. Her eyes widened in disbelief, and the air was knocked from her lungs as the reality of your rejection sank in. 

“Can’t what?” Her voice sounded hoarse and strained as she somehow managed to speak, her forest-green eyes clouded with the beginnings of tears as she fixated on your bare back, watching with trepidation as you quickly and almost frantically dressed, one piece of clothing after another being pulled on.

Your body momentarily froze as you searched your mind for the right words, an explanation to fill the terrible silence. But you came up empty, your mind consumed by a rising panic, numbing your thoughts and leaving you speechless. You spoke in a cold, sharp voice, your back still turned towards her, “Do this.” The air between you was heavy with tension and despair, your emotional state written clearly on your face, even if she couldn't see it directly.

“Wha- I... but…” Ellie struggled to articulate her thoughts, her mind grappling with conflicting emotions and confusion. Each attempt to form a coherent question or sentence ended in a frustrating tangle of words. The powerful connection that had enveloped her just moments before had vanished, leaving her bewildered and lost in its absence. How was a shift like that possible? Did you not feel it too?

“I don’t understand,” Her voice quivered and cracked as she forced the words out, her body rigid and her muscles tense as she fought to keep the tears at bay. She knew she couldn’t show any vulnerability in front of you, couldn’t let you see how much this was hurting her. Maybe it was just fear getting in the way, maybe there was still a chance for her to sway your decision by talking it out, to make you change your mind. The freckled girl couldn’t shake the feeling that she was trapped in a surreal nightmare, as if none of this was real. She had just bared her soul to you, trusted you with her innermost thoughts and feelings—things she had never shared with anyone else—and now she was consumed by a sense of violation, as if she had exposed too much of herself and in doing so, made herself vulnerable and annoying. She felt disgusted with herself, like she had crossed a line and done something wrong, leaving an acrid taste in her mouth.

“It can’t work,” Your voice was calm, detached, and filled with distance. The redhead watched as you pulled on your shirt, your gaze fixed on the wall of her room, where wrinkled space posters hung. Your composure was icy and uncaring, as if you had been waiting impatiently for the right moment to destroy the fragile bubble of illusion she had constructed with your lies. 

Her eyes roamed your face, searching desperately for a trace of the affection she had felt before, but all she saw was an emotionless mask. Her mind whirled, trying to make sense of the abrupt shift in your demeanor. Every ounce of her being longed to reach out and pull you back, to force you to see what you were throwing away. But she was paralyzed, rooted in place by the weight of your words. She had bared her soul to you, and now she was left exposed, raw, and broken.

The silence in the room thickened, growing heavy and oppressive like a massive storm cloud preparing to let loose. It was a stifling stillness, pressing down on both of you, forcing the air from your lungs and leaving each breath shallow, each word unspoken, lost in the thick atmosphere. Ellie’s forest-green, glassy eyes flicked to you, a desperate pleading in her gaze, like a sailor stranded at sea hoping to spot a flicker of a distant lighthouse, a guide through the dark waters of her impeding breakdown. But your gaze remained distant, fixed on a horizon only you could see, your movements deliberate, devoid of the tenderness that once made her believe in the magic between you.

“…Why?” Her voice was delicate and fragile, barely audible above a whisper. It trembled like a leaf in the wind, “Why can’t it work? We’re so good together. I thought—”

“Oh, please.” The venom in your voice lashed out, sharp and biting, each word dripping with contempt. “Don’t act like you don’t know. This was never supposed to be anything serious. You should have known better.” The words left your lips with a hollow ring, the warmth that the auburnette once craved in your voice now frozen over, an icy detachment that chilled her to the bone.

Tears gathered and spilled over in her eyes, creating a blurry haze that distorted the world around her and your form. The room seemed to whirl before her as her heart crumbled under the burden of your apathy. She struggled to comprehend how you could be so careless. “But-” Her voice faltered, a delicate whisper that fractured under the pressure of the painful reality she found herself grappling with. You had ensnared her like a tarantula, trapping her in an intricate web of deceit and manipulation from which there seemed to be no escape.

You sighed, the sound heavy with impatience, rolling your eyes as if the sound of her heart breaking was nothing more than an inconvenience. “God, Ellie, do you really not get it? It was just sex. Fun while it lasted, but nothing more. I can’t believe you got so attached.” Your words were sharp like swords, each one slicing through the fragile, translucent dreams she had so painstakingly woven around you, leaving deep, bleeding gashes in the delicate fabric of her hopes and illusions. She had been so stupid. “Just a summer fling, an experiment,” You added casually, your tone flat and uncaring.

Ellie’s heart crumbled further, the sharp edges of your words cutting deeper than she ever thought possible. Each syllable felt like salt combined with the strongest alcohol ever on an open wound, the reality of your apathy sinking in. “You don’t mean that,” She pleaded with you, her words carrying the weight of desperate hope, as if grasping onto a rope that could keep her from drowning in the harsh reality. “We were so good together. I felt it. I know you did, too.”

Your lips curled into a sneer, a cruel twist that mocked her naivety. “You really are naive, aren’t you? There was never anything between us, Ellie. I was just bored, and you were convenient,” you scoffed, the derision in your voice felt like a kick in her stomach, the emotional pain becoming physical. “And easy, you were so easy… and so fucking gullible.” The smirk that followed was a bitter slash across her soul, a cruel reminder of how carelessly you had toyed with her emotions. Of how carelessly you had toyed with plenty of people before her. This was a mere game to you, and you couldn’t give two fucks of all the broken pieces you always left behind. 

How could someone so incredibly beautiful and captivating exude such emptiness within? 

Salty tears streamed down her freckled cheeks, her chest tightening with a tumultuous mix of heartbreak and disbelief. The weight of your betrayal felt like a ton of bricks, crushing the hope she had clung to so desperately. You had never been any different from what the others claimed. “But I love you,” she repeated, her voice cracking under the strain of her agony. “Does that mean anything to you?”

You laughed, a sound lacking any warmth or joy, more like the cold echo of a cavernous emptiness inside you. “Honestly? No, it doesn’t. Did you think this was going to turn into some grand romance? Come on, grow up.” It shocked the auburnette how you could effortlessly shift from being warm and kind to completely cold and unsympathetic. It was like watching you switch personalities as easily as changing costumes in a theater, all to your convenience. Adapting and shapeshifting to your liking. “Love doesn’t exist. It’s just a fairytale for people who can’t handle reality.”

Ellie shook her head as if trying to shake off the unfiltered reality you were laying before her, throwing at her in such a callous manner that it left her breathless. Tears cascaded down like a relentless downpour, drenching the delicate, freckled canvas of her flushed cheeks. She held on desperately to the fading remnants of what she believed to be true, “I—I thought we had something real,” She was barely whispering, her voice fragile and on the verge of completely breaking down. Her bottom lip quivered, and that pouty expression on her face tugged at your heartstrings, making it hard to go through with this. But you knew it was something you had to do. It was necessary.

“You thought wrong,” you said with a dismissive wave of your hand, as if casting aside a trivial matter. “And if you had any sense, you’d have figured that out by now. Get real. I never promised you anything beyond what we had.”

Ellie stood up, her legs trembling as she tried to steady herself against the emotional hurricane tearing through her. “I trusted you. I opened up to you. And now you’re just discarding me like I’m nothing?”

You nonchalantly lifted your shoulders in a dismissive gesture, causing her stomach to clench as if the bond you once shared was now as inconsequential as a discarded piece of trash carried away by the wind. “I didn’t ask you to fall for me.”

She stared at you, her eyes desperately searching yours for any trace of the person she thought she had come to understand, but you weren’t there. “I thought you were different.”

“Well, I’m not. I never claimed to be something I’m not.” Your heartrending words landed the critical strike, causing her to lock away her pain deep within. It festered there, leaving behind deep, ugly scars. She wondered if she would ever be able to heal from the emotional wounds you inflicted. Not even when she broke up with her ex-girlfriend, Cat, did she feel this way. 

“You know what?” Ellie’s voice quivered with raw emotion, yet remained steadfast and resolute. The ache in her heart was gradually being consumed by a smoldering, intense anger, “You’re right. I should have seen this coming. But don’t you dare pretend like you didn’t play a part in this. You let me believe something that wasn’t real.” Her voice quivered with emotion, the barely contained anger struggling to hold back the flood of tears that threatened to engulf her beautiful moss-colored eyes once more. “You said you needed time, that eventually, you’d feel ready to…” She halted mid-sentence, realization sinking in. The promises she had once clung to, the words you had whispered in sweet moments of closeness and intimacy, all of it was nothing but a frail illusion you had woven around her to shield her from the bitter and ugly truth. You had never been genuine, always sidestepping, always evading her attempts at sincere connection.

“I never said that,” you stated in a chilly, detached manner, completely lacking any trace of the warmth typically associated with the girl she was infatuated with. It seemed absurd to her. After all, it was still you, but you were revealing your true self. This was the same true self that everyone had cautioned her about, the central figure in all the rumors she had heard. They weren’t falsehoods. They were all painfully real. It was a shame that she was only realizing this now, after falling for your ass.

“Don’t you dare pull that shit on me,” The auburnette growled, her finger pointed at you in an accusatory manner, and she struggled to mask the hurt that was tearing her apart piece by piece.

You averted your gaze, unwilling to meet her eyes any longer; you knew that her words held the truth. You had led her on, selfishly used her to fulfill your own needs and desires, without a care in the world for the trauma and pain you’d leave in her. But deep down, beneath the cold facade you maintained, you couldn’t deny that this moment was tearing you apart as well. Even though you tried to fool yourself, to convince yourself that you didn’t care about her at all, you knew in your heart that it was a lie. You couldn’t ignore the sharp pang of guilt and regret that tugged at your chest like a persistent child pleading for attention. Your heart clamored for acknowledgment, drowning out the rational thoughts, urging you to stay and face the situation rather than retreat like a coward. It swore that things would be different this time, that she could be trusted. But you couldn’t bring yourself to believe it.

“Whatever. I’m done here.” You walked to the door, pausing for a fleeting moment. Turning back to her, your eyes seemed empty. Your voice sounded almost mechanical, having become accustomed to this repetitive cycle, trapped in an endless loop. You found someone new, they became attached, and just as you started to feel something, you would withdraw. “Don’t call me. Don’t text me. We’re done here.”

Ellie’s breath caught in her throat as your words sank in. The tears the auburnette had been holding back spilled over, but she forced herself to stand tall, her voice trembling as she struggled to keep herself composed. “Trust me, I won’t. I don’t ever want to see you again,” she promised, trying to sound firm and unaffected, but both of you knew it was far from the truth. She longed to run after you, to plead for you to stay, to not leave her, but she refused to give you the satisfaction of seeing her vulnerable and in desperate need of you. You had already seen enough of her; she had already made herself look like a fool yet that didn’t stop you from stomping on her fragile heart.

“Good.”

And with that, you were gone, leaving behind only the ghost of what could have been, and the shattered pieces of her heart, leaving her alone with the echo of her own heartbreak. The door clicked shut behind you, the sound reverberating through the silence.

Ellie collapsed onto the bed, clutching a fluffy pillow to her chest, tears cascading down her face. The room seemed to chill, the absence of your presence amplifying the feeling of loneliness. She buried her face in the softness of the pillow, her tears leaving damp patches on the fabric. It was as if a part of her had been forcibly wrenched away, leaving a raw, throbbing emptiness that felt impossible to soothe. She clutched at her chest, the emotional anguish translating into a physical ache. Breathing became a struggle as her chest tightened, making it hard to draw in a full breath.

Hours passed in a haze of anguish and despair, her tears eventually tapering off, leaving her feeling empty and exhausted. She lay there, fixating on the stars plastered on her ceiling. The weight of your absence felt like the entire solar system had collapsed upon her, crushing her under the immensity of her grief and sorrow. She was pinned down, each star on her ceiling twinkling mercilessly, mocking her pain with their cheap radiant light.

She reached for her phone, her fingers quivering with a mixture of longing and pain as she typed out a message she knew she could never send: “I miss you already.”

Each keystroke felt like a betrayal of her own heart, an act of masochism as the words coalesced on the screen. The message lingered on the screen, an undelivered declaration of heartbreak, a painful confession trapped within the confines of a glowing screen.

She loathed herself for her own weakness, her own vulnerability towards you. She desperately craved a person who didn’t have the slightest care in the world for her, someone who could so easily discard her without a second thought. She could almost hear Dina’s voice in her head, scolding her for being so fucking stupid and naive, telling her to get her shit together and forget about you altogether—maybe after suggesting to burn your whole house down. But her heart ached with a yearning that couldn’t be so easily dismissed, leaving her feeling lost, pathetic, and wholly powerless. She knew deep down that if you came back she’d be welcoming you with open arms, like none of this had happened.

The words etched on the screen seemed to sneer at her, a cruel reminder of her impotence. She couldn’t change your mind and most importantly… she couldn’t change you. 

With a trembling hand, she erased the message, then tossed the phone aside, curling up into a tight ball on the bed. Exhaustion eventually took over, pulling her into a restless sleep. But even in her dreams, she was haunted by you, a phantom pain that followed her even in the realm of sleep, leaving her tormented and unable to truly escape reality.

The next morning, the sun beamed through the blinds, slicing through the room like a laser, bright and unforgiving. Ellie dragged herself upright in bed, feeling the weight of exhaustion bearing down on her like a heavy blanket. Every part of her felt burdened, as if the weariness had seeped into her bones, settling there as a constant reminder of the emptiness that had taken root in her heart. You had completely destroyed her and she wished she could bring herself to hate you for it, but she couldn’t; no matter how hard she tried.

She moved slowly, each action a deliberate fight against the numbness that threatened to overtake her. Getting dressed felt like going through the motions of a life she no longer recognized. The world outside her window seemed darker, as if the sun itself had dimmed in response to her loss. She knew she had to keep going, force herself to take one step, then another, even though every movement felt like trudging through thick, unforgiving mud.

She knew she had to erase you from her mind, from every little corner where you had once lived. The freckled girl stopped showing up to work, leaving Dina to be the one to tell you she was quitting. It was childish, she knew that, but the idea of facing you, of seeing you, was too much to bear. She knew that if she saw you, she would crumble, her resolve breaking as she begged you to come back, to love her back the way she had believed you once did. Beg you to let her hold you, in her arms, where you belonged. But you didn’t belong to her—if you had, you wouldn’t have left.

Each day that passed by, the redhead was left alone to wrestle with her heartache, a silent and insidious companion that had latched onto her like a parasite, feasting on the very essence of her being. It gnawed at her soul, leeching away her energy and joy, wrapping its cold, inky tendrils around her heart, holding her in an unbreakable ever present embrace of sorrow and despair. 

Her friends noticed the shift in her, the way her laughter had disappeared, replaced by a hollow silence. She seemed distant, as if she was there in body but absent in spirit, a ghost of the girl she used to be. 

No one knew what was going on inside her mind, no one except Jesse. He had seen the signs, had heard the unspoken words in her silence, but he kept it to himself, pretending not to know what had caused the light in her eyes to fade. Even when Dina couldn’t stop worrying about Ellie, but Jesse held his tongue, protecting the secret of her heartbreak. It was up to Ellie to talk about it to her friends—if she ever wanted to; he was certain that she eventually would, she just needed time.

Even Joel noticed the change in his daughter, the way she no longer found joy in the little things that used to make her smile. The eggs and bacon he made her in the mornings went untouched, her chair at the table often empty. She no longer filled the house with her endless chatter, no longer picked on him for his dad jokes. Instead, she withdrew into herself, isolating in her room or disappearing for hours at a time, leaving him to wonder where she was, who she was with. He had tried to find out, but all his searching had led to dead ends. His sweet girl had become a stranger, slipping away from him, slowly.

Summer, once Ellie’s favorite season, had become a cruel reminder of what she had lost. The warm breeze that used to fill her with a sense of freedom now felt like a mockery, a reminder of the momentary happiness that had slipped through her fingers like grains of sand. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to love summer again, not when it was tainted with memories of you. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever get over what happened, the way you had reduced her to nothing while your life carried on, untouched by what you left behind.

She didn’t dare message you. She wasn’t that stupid. Pride held her back, even though the urge to reach out burned like an ember inside her, refusing to die out. You had told her not to, and she had promised she wouldn’t. And so, she kept her distance, even though a part of her hoped you would break the silence. But you never did, and neither did she.

Instead, Ellie focused on erasing every trace of you from her life. She gathered everything that reminded her of you, every small item that held a piece of your memory, and stuffed them into a box. She couldn’t bring herself to throw it away, but she needed them out of sight, out of reach. They were relics of a past she needed to forget.

The auburnette collapsed onto her bed, pulling her sketchbook into her lap. The pages felt heavy in her hands, filled with drawings that now only brought her pain. With a deep breath, she began tearing them out, each rip a cathartic release of the anger that had been building up like a lego tower right beneath her apathetic surface. Sketches of you, peaceful in sleep, your face lit with a smile or lost in thought, fell around her like leaves in autumn, each one a reminder of how deeply she had loved you. How deeply she had fooled herself.

Ellie’s hands paused as she reached the last page. There, among the sketches of you, was a drawing she hadn’t made. It was of her asleep, her features soft and unguarded. She recognized your handwriting at the bottom of the page, the words you had scrawled there while she was sleeping in her bed, unaware of your restless state that night.

“You’re such a creep. But a cute one. :P P.S. your snoring sounds like a horde of angry, sleep-deprived dinos.”

The storm of anger that had driven her to tear apart her sketchbook faded, replaced by a wave of sadness so intense it took her breath away. Her fingers traced the lines of the drawing, the tenderness in each stroke, the way you had captured her as you saw her, not as she saw herself. You have made her beautiful. You had seen something in her that she had never seen in herself. Her vision blurred as tears welled up, spilling onto the page, dampening the paper. She hadn’t even realized she was crying until a sob broke free, wracking her body with the force of her grief.

She slammed the sketchbook shut, tossing it aside as if it could rid her of the memories that clung to her like thorns. Her hands flew to her face, muffling the cries that echoed in her chest, the screams she was too broken to release. She buried her face in her palms, her body shaking with the effort of holding herself together, even as everything inside her was falling apart.

Ellie wished she would never cross paths with you again, the one who had so cruelly ripped her heart apart with the precision of a surgeon and the callousness of a butcher. You had done it without hesitation, without a second thought, leaving her to pick up the jagged pieces of what was once whole. She had begged and prayed, whispered desperate pleas to every deity that would listen, hoping beyond hope that the universe would grant her one mercy: that she would never have to see you again.

But Cupid, in all his twisted irony, had other plans.

To be continued…

[awearywritersworld]

she mumbled that i was peculiar

sukuna x reader summary: impressively, sukuna is still trying to find ways to deny his feelings for you. nevertheless, he keeps you safe from harm when a late night trip to the store doesn't go as planned. will seeing his violent nature for yourself change the way you feel about him? he seems to think so. w/c: 4.2k (oops) tags/warnings: angst to fluff. attempted kidnapping. canon typical violence. depictions of blood. reader throws up. reader is in shock for a bit. cursing. aged up!yuuji. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. *please mind the warnings for this chapter* a/n: i'm sorry this took so long! im ngl, i struggled quite a bit to write this chapter. i'm still unsure about the pacing, but here it is anyway. thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy! series masterlist // masterlist

it's not often that you go out for the evening, but tonight is one such occasion. you leave around seven, excited to meet nobara and maki for dinner.

when yuuji falls asleep a few hours later, sukuna doesn't take over right away. he spends a while in his domain, engaging in what some people might call sulking.

before long, however, he begins to feel restless and he tells himself it's because he's grown accustomed to his finite hours of freedom. of course, it has nothing to do with your absence.

so he assumes control of his vessel's body and pulls a short novel from your bookshelf. settling on the couch, his fingertips brush over the cover: the stranger by albert camus

it's the first time he's ever been alone in your apartment, a fact he's well aware of, and his eyes wander to the front door. it'd be all too easy to pull it open, to make his way downstairs and out onto the street.

how long would it last before yuuji regained control? are you nearby? would you get caught up in the havoc he'd doubtlessly wreak?

the thought makes him grimace. returning his focus to the book in his hands, time seems to pass by faster as he makes his way through the pages.

even so, he deems the narrative a bit boring. in his (what's the opposite of humble?) opinion, dead mothers and nagging girlfriends don't make for the most captivating story, so his mind begins to wander once he happens upon the quote:

"so why marry me, then?" she said. i explained to her that it didn't really matter and that if she wanted to, we could get married. besides, she was the one who was doing the asking and all i was saying was yes. then she pointed out that marriage was a serious thing. i said, "no." she stopped talking for a minute and looked at me without saying anything. then she spoke. she just wanted to know if i would have accepted the same proposal from another woman, with whom I was involved in the same way. i said, "sure." then she said she wondered if she loved me, and there was no way i could know about that. after another moment's silence, she mumbled that i was peculiar, that that was probably why she loved me but that one day i might disgust her for the same reason.

sukuna thinks about you— the woman who forced her way into his solitude.

although, what if it hadn't been you? what if the brat had been involved with another woman? would he have eventually taken an interest in her too?

are you really that special, or is he just going crazy inside the cage that is itadori yuuji? the latter is much more likely, right?

he supposes he prefers the idea of madness over... feelings for some human.

all of a sudden, your apartment door seems much more inviting. would it be so bad if he were to step through it? what did he really have to lose?

yeah, that's right. he'll get up any second now and act on every horrible impulse he's been repressing. any second now... any second...

he can't quite figure out why he's unable to bring his limbs to move, weighed down by some force that's beyond him.

it's at that moment the door clicks open and for a split second, he thinks it must be his sign to go, but then you come waltzing in.

"'kuna!" you greet in an excited manner, disrupting the peaceful quiet.

kicking off your shoes haphazardly, you make your way over to him and promptly drop yourself into his lap. it elicits a bout of unwelcome clarity for the king of curses.

no, he wouldn't have taken an interest in just anyone, that much becomes obvious. it wasn't through a medium as flawed as chance that he came to... tolerate you. you're much too annoying for that to be the case.

"hello???" you wave your hand in front of his face. "i'm home."

"i can see that."

"welcome home, darling," you say in a deep voice, a poor imitation of him. "i missed you so much— that's what you're supposed to say."

yeah, definitely too annoying.

"but i didn't miss you." one of his hands comes to rest on your thigh, a betrayal of his preceding assertion.

"you're sitting alone reading—" you pause to inspect the book lying open beside him. "existential fiction about a nihilistic frenchman. of course you missed me."

he changes the topic rather swiftly. "you're drunk."

"i'm tipsy, at best." you roll your eyes. "can't i just be happy to see you?"

"you'd be the first."

"i don't mind making history."

you place a kiss on his lips, casual and affectionate in way that makes sukuna's body stiffen, and stand up.

"i need to get ready for bed, then we're gonna watch tv together because i missed you— gosh, see how easy that was?"

you run off to the bathroom and his body doesn't fully relax until he hears the shower turn on.

the thought of missing someone is a strange notion to him, because it implies eagerness and desire. for as long as he cares to remember, those emotions have been reserved for proclivities much more sinister.

so he hadn't missed you. he just would have preferred it if you stayed home. that's all.

when you return to the living room around fifteen minutes later, you're wearing one of yuuji's shirts, and as far as sukuna can tell, very little otherwise.

making yourself comfortable on the floor between his legs, you pass a hair tie behind you. "can you braid my hair?"

he's watched you get ready for bed enough times that he's fairly certain he can manage it. taking the tie from you, he still asks "why can't you do it?"

"because i'm sleepy," you frown, reaching for the tv remote.

gathering your hair in his hands and carefully dividing it into sections, he sighs. "you require so much looking after."

"you're not going to die if you can't have cookies tonight." sukuna states dryly, glancing at the clock that reads eleven o'clock.

"please don't trivialize my struggle," you begin, pulling on your jacket. "i want miso butter cookies— my grandma's secret recipe."

most of what you need can be found in the kitchen, but a trip to the store is in order for a few final ingredients.

"my mistake," he huffs, rising to his feet. "how insensitive of me."

"oh, it's alright. just don't let it happen again."

"sure. i'll keep that in mind, princess." sliding the apartment door's chain lock off the track, he does little to hide the vexation in his tone.

just as he reaches for the handle, you stop him and wrap a scarf around his neck, forcing a hoodie into his hands. "put this on. you'll be cold."

he looks at you as if you're crazy. "i don't have to worry about things as insignificant as the weather."

"well, put it on anyway," you insist.

he decides that acquiescing will be easier than arguing for the next five minutes and slips the hoodie over head. when you both step out into the chilly air of night, there are still a decent number of people traveling the streets.

stopping at a crosswalk the next block over, you begin to prattle on about what you need to pick up and the different steps in your recipe. naturally, you completely miss it when the pedestrian sign turns green.

"come on," sukuna commands, his hand wrapping around your wrist and tugging you along with him. "i don't have all night."

you scoff. "to be fair, i didn't say you had to come with me."

"yeah well it's late. you shouldn't be out alone." there's a hint of exasperation in his voice, like he truly had no choice in the matter.

despite that, once you reach the other side of the street, his fingers slide down your palm and thread through yours.

you glance over at him and find he's looking off to the side, so you bite your lip to suppress your pleased smile. is he avoiding your gaze intentionally? you decide that bashfulness suits him better than you would have expected.

offering him a light squeeze of the hand, you hope it conveys your appreciation of his small display of affection.

"so, are you going to help me make the cookies?"

his lips press into a thin line. "as thrilling as that seems, i don't particularly have a penchant for baking."

"you think you'd humor me a little! you know, since i'm your only friend and all."

"if anyone else asked me such a ridiculous question, they wouldn't live to see tomorrow." you ponder whether he's joking and quickly decide that he isn't. "this is me humoring you."

"you're so mean to me."

"hardly."

"fine," you pout. "then you can't have any!"

"now, hold on." the threat does make him hesitate. you've come to learn that if there's one thing he loves as much as reading, it's food. "let's not be hasty."

you're approaching the store, the sliding doors just a few strides away.

"it's only fair! besides, you're not going to die if you can't have cookies," you throw his earlier words in his face.

he exhales deeply. "have i ever told you how irritating you are?"

"woah! now you're definitely not getting any, mister!"

"alright, alright," he groans as you step inside. "i'll help you bake your stupid cookies."

"perfect!" you exclaim as if you knew he'd give in eventually (you did). "then you can start by finding the miso paste while i get everything else!"

you scamper off before he can tell you not to order him around like some common servant. he's never even been grocery shopping, how the hell is he supposed to find anything in here?

wandering the aisles, he stews over how domestic this is. for god's sake— the king of curses, shopping for ingredients and making baked goods. what have you reduced him to?

just as he considers giving up, he spots the item he's looking for and grabs it so aggressively that it knocks a few packets of instant miso soup to the floor. wrinkling his nose in distaste for the entire experience, he sets off looking for you, though his efforts are to no avail.

he wonders where the hell you could have gone off to when a flickering light catches his eye, filling him with a strange sort of unease.

it's emanating from a narrow hallway tucked away in the back corner of the store. at the very edge of the hall, a phone with a familiar case is lying on the floor, the screen shattered.

his blood runs cold, a sensation that is fully unknown to him, and the miso paste slips from his fingers. he appears in the hallway the very next second and the sight that greets him ignites a furious hostility in the center of his being— heavy and consuming.

you're struggling against one man as he drags you out of the backdoor and into an alley. another man is holding the door open, urging his partner to hurry up.

the hand over your mouth keeps you from yelling, but you're unsure you would have been able to make a sound regardless.

one second you're cast into darkness, and the next, the light seems blinding. the flashing is unceasing and it makes your head hurt.

two limbs are wrapped around your torso, keeping you firmly in place, and your arms are trapped at your sides. you might be kicking your legs, but they may just be dragging along too. you really can't be sure.

there's a thrum of a heartbeat at your back. it's pace is unforgiving, the intensity mirroring that of your own. you've a vague concern that your heart may very well beat right out of your chest.

then there's an abrupt shift in the air and a sickening crack echoes through out the night. crumpling onto the concrete, you think it must have started raining before you realize that the droplets on your face are warm.

you wipe at your cheek and your fingers stain crimson, the color matching that of an increasingly large puddle seeping across the pavement beside you.

there's a heap lying a few feet away and you recognize that it's wearing clothes. it's a sight you struggle to make sense of.

needing to focus on something else, your eyes find sukuna and the expression he's wearing is fierce and unreserved. "tell me what you wanted with her."

you've never heard him speak in such a way. his tone is low, his cadence nothing short of threatening.

"s-s'kuna?" your own voice sounds foreign to you and it goes unheard by him.

he has your attacker pressed against the brick wall of the alley, both hands wrapped around his throat. he's too livid to realize the pressure on his windpipe is preventing him from answering.

sukuna throws him to the other side of the alleyway out of frustration, the man rolling onto his back and wheezing to appease his lungs.

"tell me!" sukuna commands again, louder this time. less collected.

the man scrambles away from his looming figure. "th-they sent us, told us they needed her for an important matter."

"who?"

"they'll kill me if i tell you—"

sukuna crouches down, laughing dryly. "and what do you suppose i'm going to do?"

his eyes are almost unrecognizable to you. they're frenzied— a few shades deeper than the scarlet you've grown so fond of.

"you'll k-kill me either way, so at least i'll die with honor—"

"tch. useless." sukuna waves his hand, and you can hardly comprehend what happens right in front of you.

neat red lines appear across the man's body, then it ruptures into nothing at all. the only evidence that he was ever there in the first place is his blood.

the stench of which is perhaps the worst part— intense, coppery, and hot. it makes your eyes water, and before you know it, you're hunched over and emptying the contents of your stomach onto the ground.

sukuna is at your side in an instant, pulling your hair away from your face, but while one of your hands is braced against the concrete, the other endeavors to push him away.

his body doesn't budge at the contact, but he takes a step back anyway in an attempt to respect your wishes.

your mind is a mess filled with racing thoughts— what the fuck? this cannot be happening. what the hell even happened in this first place? that man was there and then he wasn't.

inhaling sharply, you wipe at your mouth and shift to pull your knees to your chest.

"what..." you trail off, surveying the unutterable, incomprehensible scene before you. "what did you do?"

he doesn't respond, though his features noticeably soften. somewhere in the back of your mind, you know very well what he did, but you can't help repeating. "what did you do?"

"we need to leave." it's not that sukuna couldn't handle whoever might show up, but seeing as this is your reaction, he has no desire to. "if you let me touch you, i can take us home."

you take a moment to think about it, then nod wordlessly. as soon as his hand falls on your shoulder, you're met with that same sensation you felt the night gojo teleported you and yuuji home after one too many drinks.

though this time, the sick feeling in your stomach isn't caused by liquor. you don't stand up, you don't so much as move a muscle when you feel the surface beneath you shift from concrete to carpet.

sukuna breathes out your name, his uncertainty evidenced by the way he's shoved his hands into his pockets. meeting his eye, you reiterate the same inquiry once more. "what did you do?"

it's almost as if you want him to tell you that he didn't do anything. that the whole experience was some disturbing nightmare.

"those men would have hurt you."

"that doesn't mean they deserved to die." you choke on the final word.

"yes— it does."

with that, silence hangs in the air like a suffocating miasma.

looking to your hands, you're reminded of the blood you've been spattered with. "i need to wash up."

you still don't move from your spot, too fixated on your flesh and the dreadful hue that it's been painted with. sukuna notices now that you're trembling.

he approaches you hesitantly before extending his hand. "let me help you."

you decline his offer, shying away from him. "i think you've done enough already."

god, the look in your eye is utterly despondent. he struggles to swallow the lump that forms in his throat.

his arm falls limply to his side and he looks across the room, your copy of the stranger earning his attention.

he's overcome with chagrin when he realizes that his concern brought about by camus' quote the other night was wholly misguided. he'd been focused on his own feelings, whether they were genuine or simply wrought by his isolation.

how foolish was he to ever question what you truly mean to him? with the anguish that's settled in his chest at the sight of your current state, the fact he ever doubted it makes him feel like a hopeless idiot.

had he any sense at all, the part that resonated with him would have been—

she mumbled that i was peculiar, that that was probably why she loved me but that one day i might disgust her for the same reason.

disgust. is that what you're feeling now? he's certain it is.

it was just last week that he relayed the story of his past. you're the only person alive to know the truth of how his wickedness came to be, and you met him with unconditional sympathy and understanding.

you pulled him close and embraced him, but now that you've seen him for what he truly is...? you can barely stand to touch him and it's like a knife to his heart.

you're so fucking warm— like the sun against his skin after weeks of endless rain.

and if you're the sun, surely he is the moon— cold and barren on his own, but brilliant when in the presence of your light.

to be without that? to be without you? it's a prospect too terrible for him to bear. it makes his stomach twist miserably.

you're startled (as is he) when his form falls to the floor, his knees meeting the carpet with a dull thud. he calls out your name again, but this time, his voice cracks as he speaks. "please."

he doesn't have a clue what he's even asking for. a chance to explain? forgiveness? a way to turn back time?

you don't say anything, but you do shift your gaze to him. he knows that he needs to fix this, so he wracks his mind for the right words.

"i didn't enjoy killing those men." he's somewhat surprised to find he's telling the truth.

"you didn't?" your voice is so small and timid that he can hardly decipher your words.

"no. my only concern was to keep you safe— to make sure they never put their hands on you ever again. all i felt was rage and... and... guilt. i should have never left you alone and it's my fault—"

"stop," you interrupt him.

there are tears welling in your eyes, making it difficult for sukuna to breathe. he's positive you're going to tell him that his intentions were of little consequence and that you never want to see him ever again.

instead, you push yourself forward and collapse against his body, your own wracked with violent sobs. the reality of the situation is only just now hitting you. it'd been much easier to focus on what sukuna had done, rather than what almost happened to you.

"i was so scared, 'kuna."

and still, despite the way you're clinging to his shirt and burying your face in chest, he's under the impression that it's him you were afraid of.

"i'm sorry," he tells you earnestly. "i never meant to frighten you."

"n-not of you. those men." you're struggling to speak in between desperate gasps. "why did they do that? what did they want with me?"

"i don't know." though, he is going to find out.

sukuna is not a man well versed in comfort, so he's not entirely sure why he begins rocking you back and forth, but he does it anyway.

when you finally start to breathe a little easier, he mumbles into your hair, "come on. let's get you cleaned up."

he doesn't give you a chance to respond before he scoops you up in his arms and carries you to the bathroom. setting you down on the counter gently, he searches the linen closet for a cloth.

it's quiet, save for your intermittent sniffling, as he runs it under warm water and wrings it out. his free hand moves to rest against the side of your neck and he dabs at the blood on your face, rinsing the washcloth every now and then.

he tries his best not to show it, but sukuna is agonizing over what might be going through your mind.

do you still feel safe with him? have your feelings changed? do you still love him, even when you've been so harshly reminded what he's capable of?

when you speak for the first time your words are hoarse, barely above a whisper. "thank you for saving me, sukuna."

he thinks about telling you not to thank him, not when it shouldn't have happened in the first place. he left your side, an error in judgement he'll never forgive himself for.

he considers your mortality— your weakness— in relation to his feelings for you. he's always seen this exceptionally human quality as despicable.

but now? all it does is terrify him.

"in the past, i was only concerned with my own whims and desires." his hand moves to cradle your face, his thumb running over your cheekbone. "though after tonight... you have to know..."

it's clear that he's struggling. his eyebrows draw together and his mouth twitches as he ponders his next words.

"i care about you, angel." his voice is hushed when he adds, "very much."

your eyes widen briefly and you murmur his name, but your mind is still reeling from the events of the past twenty minutes and you can't think of anything more to say. you're emotionally exhausted in a way you would have never thought possible.

it's plain to him too, so he knows his next question is selfish, but he can't go on without knowing. "does what you saw tonight change things between us?"

the silence preceding your answer seems to stretch on forever.

"i thought it would," you confess eventually. it was as if you'd put up a wall in your mind separating sukuna the king of curses from sukuna the man you spend your evenings with.

and it's difficult to reconcile the fact that the hands you saw used to murder two men are the same hands that are caressing your face so delicately.

at some point, however, you realized that the only time you felt fear tonight was when you were without him. his arrival and ensuing actions inspired shock and apprehension, though in some twisted way, you knew it meant you were safe. "but it doesn't."

the next question tumbles from your lips thoughtlessly. "does that make me a bad person?"

he chuckles and some of the tension in the room dissipates. "i think i'm the last one on earth that can pass moral judgement on you."

he tucks your hair behind your ear and scans your face, relief coursing through his body when he sees you smile. in this moment, there isn't anything else in the world he would have asked for.

"i guess you're right."

and now, the hand over your mouth is your own, an attempt to stifle your tired giggles. the light of the bathroom is warm and steady. sukuna's hands rest atop your hips, his touch firm but comforting. while you can't feel your own heartbeat, you're positive it must be beating in time with his.

when you crawl into bed that night sukuna pulls you close, your back pressed to his bare chest. you're thankful for the softness of his demeanor, because you need it tonight more than ever.

he doesn't recede to his domain until yuuji wakes up the following morning. he's determined to keep an eye on you as you sleep, to watch the slow rise and fall of your chest with newfound gratitude.

he knows he needs to speak with the brat about what happened. someone is after you and while he hates to admit it, he knows he can't ensure your safety alone.

and he will keep you safe, no matter the cost.

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