#into something he didn’t even believe in

[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 12 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: Things have changed between you. But you can't even tell how much.

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, threatening, mentions of blood, mentions of murder/gore/death, body issues, trauma talk, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, depression, manipulation and low self-esteem, mentions of sexual activities, loss of identity, mentions of pregnancy, not beta-read, if I've missed any warnings or tags please tell me! mdni 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

You couldn’t tell what caused his change of heart, but you surely wouldn’t complain. Or be the first one to speak. Maybe, just maybe, your pride wasn't all dead yet.

By the time the door was pulled open, you needed a moment for your eyes to adjust to the light that flooded the cramped space. Again, you couldn’t tell how long you had been in there. A few hours? A day? Longer?

All you knew was that you were starving and your bladder hurt like hell.

And somehow you didn’t care.

You didn’t care about anything actually.

The time you spent in the darkness of the wardrobe, pressed against the wall like a caged animal, had served you to think about the mess you found yourself in. A part of you was still relieved that he didn’t kill you. Another part was strangely disappointed, angry even, that he doubted you in the first place.

You didn’t try to leave. And he didn’t believe you.

But what took far more space up in your mind, was the memory of what you said to him.

I love you.

I love you?

Were you out of your goddamn mind?

Surely, it must have been some desperate attempt to manipulate him into caring, so that he would let go. Surely. Surely.

But a part of you knew that was not the truth.

He had his hands wrapped around your neck, ready to end your life then and there and all you cared to say was I love you?

You felt…betrayed. You had betrayed yourself yet again.

Didn’t you possess any semblance of dignity? Of self-worth? Of anything of which you thought that it made you you?

But before you had the time to get even angrier at yourself, he opened the door.

You blinked slowly and looked up at him. It wasn’t the prettiest sight for sure. Your eyes were red and swollen, your face puffy. Dark marks in the form on his slender fingers decorated your neck. A constant reminder of the pain you were in, the danger. Your body was covered in marks and bruises. Like you were a blank canvas and he was a cruel, deranged artist.

You looked at him, but he didn’t look at you. He didn’t even say anything. All he did was stand there, his hand clutching the door handle tightly. You could tell he was still tense, still furious to some degree. This was far from over.

A stronger version of yourself would have tried to talk to him. To convince him. To beg him to believe you, because it was the fucking truth.

You didn’t try to leave. How could he not see it?

But instead, you carefully got to your feet. Your legs felt weak and shaky, from sitting in your kneeling position for so long. You held onto the wall and slowly stumbled out, into your room. Nothing had changed. A look out of the useless window showed you that it was getting dark outside. A day, then. It had been a day.

You sighed very softly and ran your fingers through the knots in your hair. All you wanted was a bath and a good night’s sleep. But you knew that was probably a very distant thought. Something had shifted between you, you could tell.

You didn’t get to tease him anymore, he wasn’t going to read to you either. You were back to playing games and walking on eggshells. You were back in the fangs of the evil twin.

As if to prove his point, he led you out of your room and into the bathroom, his hand hovering above the small of your back, but not quite touching you.

And then your biggest nightmare.

There was no fucking door.

Your eyes widened and your lips parted in a horrified, and yet oh-so exhausted, gasp. A part of you wanted to beg, still. At least for a tiny bit of dignity. The tiniest bit of being allowed to feel like a human being. But no. That was not what you were, right?

When he pointed to the chair in the middle of the room, you knew you weren’t human anymore.

You were a godforsaken Young-hee doll.

You looked up at him with pleading eyes, despite yourself. Despite the tiny, defiant gleam in your chest. But he still wasn’t looking at you. And suddenly you knew no amount of pleading would ever help you anyway.

You wanted to cry. You really did. But at some point in the wardrobe you had your tears run dry and they hadn’t returned ever since. There was only so much a person could cry, right?

With slow, hesitant steps you finally found your place on the chair. Your eyes were fixed on the hole in the wall where once the door had been. You asked yourself what gracious surprises were there more, waiting for you, waiting to be discovered and dreaded.

When he took your wrists in his hand and tied them together with a tight knot in a tie of his, you didn’t protest. All you did was stare straight ahead.

He needed to do this. He needed to prove to you, to himself maybe, that you were nothing. Just like he had said to you, right before you straddled him and took control of the situation in the morning. You were nothing.

Nothing, nothing, nothing at all.

But his hands were gentle. He wasn’t being cruel or forceful about it. You couldn’t tell if that was, because you were being so compliant or if there was another reason. Whatever it was, he was really gentle. Almost ridiculously so.

When you saw him reach for the pair of scissors, you closed your eyes. You really didn’t want to see it. See, what amount of hair would have to go today. In his eyes, you had tried to escape, right? But as much as you tried to tell yourself that, you were sure, he was punishing you for something else. You just couldn’t tell what it was.

“No.” He said quietly. “Open your eyes.”

Despite the way your body begged you to keep your eyes shut, you reluctantly opened them. Of course. Right in front of the fucking mirror. A crazy man and his clueless victim.

If only you had fled.

Why didn’t you? You couldn’t stop asking yourself. Why didn’t you?

And he still wasn’t looking at you.

That was probably the worst part. You felt you were in so much pain, so much horror and he couldn’t even bring himself to look at you? Was this part of the punishment?

You looked up at his face, your expression a mixture of desperation and pleading. And anger. But he never looked up. Never met your gaze. And still, you were sure, he saw you.

He kept his jaw clenched, his fingers clutching the scissors tightly.

Maybe he wasn’t even going to cut it off. Maybe he’d stab and cut you to death. Watch you bleed for his own entertainment and amusement. Maybe this was all you were to him. A cheap entertainment.

He didn’t care about your trauma, did he? Back when you told him about it. Back when you felt you nearly died, talking about it. Back then, you believed it was for some greater cause. To be his. To be free. To be at all.

Now you were sure it was all for nothing.

He took a slow breath, as if to steel himself, but then he didn’t hesitate. The sound and sight of your hair being cut off was like the final blow to your chest you needed to lose yourself entirely.

Again, he didn’t cut off an atrocious amount. You didn’t look like the scary doll yet.

But this time, he cut off double the amount he did last time. And that was nearly a third of your hair.

A few moments ago, you had been so sure that all your tears had dried out, but now you were certain they had not. The slight quiver of your lip was the warning of what was to come, right before your vision was blurred by tears. Your shoulders and your hands were shaking by the sheer pressure you applied on yourself in order not to sob.

He felt it. He wasn’t an idiot. Of course he felt it. But he still didn’t look at you.

And yet, for the tiniest, briefest moment, you were sure, you saw him hesitate.

But that didn’t stop him. He kept cutting the strands precisely and carefully, with a gentleness that was almost mocking you.

He didn’t stop until your hair decorated the floor like a silky carpet. And you felt something inside of you break. It didn’t come at once. It came slowly and stealthily. But you could practically watch in the mirror as the gleam in your eyes faded.

Who were you now? Hana, maybe?

His girl? No. The thought made your stomach churn.

His captive. You were his captive. No more and no less.

And you were sure, that was exactly what he felt as well.

The next few days passed in silence. Neither of you spoke a word to each other. He didn’t yell at you or order you around. You got to sleep in your own bed and he didn’t even try once to approach you. It was a quiet co-existence. You barely spent any time in the same room, unless it was to eat. And even then, most times he had the decency to inform you of the fact that the food was ready and then he’d leave you to it.

He'd go to work in the afternoons and come back in the middle of the night, like he usually did. He only subtly checked out if you were still there.

As if you could just go anywhere else.

But he didn’t speak.

And Hell, you were sure, you weren’t ever going to say another word to him.

The only thing that did change were the missing doors. There were no doors, except for the front door and the one in his bedroom. Of course he got to keep his fucking door. After all, it wasn’t him who got punished.

Despite it all, you found yourself longing. Thinking back to the times you had slept in his bed, felt his breath tickle your neck. The way his arms wrapped around you from behind protectively and pulled you closer to him. The way he kissed your forehead and called you sweetness.

And despite yourself, you were desperate to feel him again. Never in your life before had you ever felt this lonely. So touch-starved. So needy to be with another person. To be with him.

But you knew that was not an option. You had no idea what the situation between you was. You just knew that you hated him.

You hated him for almost killing you, for cutting off your hair. For removing all the doors and for ignoring you.

But you hated him the most, because he didn’t believe you, when you said you didn’t try to leave.

You would have understood his need to punish you, if you truly tried to leave. After all, yes, he informed you of the consequences, right? But, for God’s sake, you didn’t try to leave.

Maybe he was punishing you for the man and the way he looked at you. Like you were some beaten puppy. He had to kill him, right? If he didn’t, you were sure, the police would have flooded the apartment within the next hour.

You almost understood his motives.

And that was what scared you the most.

You tossed and turned that night, unable to find a wink of sleep. He came home later than usual and you found yourself worrying. Had something happened? Or did he finally decide to abandon you?

Maybe he’d come back when he was sure there was no more left of you than a corpse, starved to death. Or maybe he wouldn’t ever come back.

Maybe he found another obsession.

With an annoyed sigh you turned on your back and kicked the blanket away. The jealousy almost ate you up. You ran your hands through your hair and paused when you felt how it was shorter than before. Every time you felt that, you took a moment to remember it. That horrible day. It had taken so much from you. All you actually wanted was to go back in time and for things to be the way they were before. Not before he abducted you. Before that fight, before that scene. Back when he called you my love.

You sighed again and sat up in frustration. The moment you heard the door open, you exhaled in relief. He hadn’t abandoned you. And you felt bad for even thinking he would. But was it truly that unlikely?

You listened to the sounds of him coming back and going about his nightly routine. Everything stayed the same. You heard it all the better, since you had no damn door. You groaned and buried your face in the pillow. He wouldn’t approach you. He hadn’t done so in days.

He wouldn’t hold you. Wouldn’t kiss you. He was no more than a ghost in your book. Or maybe you were the ghost. You had no past, no family, nothing. All you had was him and even that seemed pretty uncertain for now.

You squeezed your eyes shut and hoped you would eventually find some sleep. The sounds of his footsteps and the microwave were like a soothing lullaby and soon you were slowly drifting off to sleep. Exhaustion got the better of you, though you didn’t really understand what exhausted you so. All you did was wander these halls, eat, sleep and read a few pages of a book every now and then.

God, your days were so empty without him.

You would have even preferred to play one of his crazy mind games. Yes, you’d even prefer him to get physical with you. At least that would have required some kind of intimacy. A slap sounded just delightful in that moment. At least he’d touch you then. Look at you. And speak to you.

You were already half-asleep, so you didn’t really hear when his footsteps approached your room. Or maybe, if you heard, you told yourself it was wishful thinking. After all, why would he come here? It was the middle of the night and you were still firmly ignoring each other. Maybe it was better that way. That way you didn’t get the chance to anger him further. Maybe that way, you’d get to keep some of your hair.

No. He had no reason to come close. But he still did.

He stood in the doorway of your room, where once a door had been and leaned against the frame. His arms were crossed and he stared down at your unmoving form. He didn’t make a sound as he stood there. A small frown on his face revealed how thoughtful he truly was and how hard it was for him to hold back. There was obviously something he wanted.

You, probably.

None of this. Whenever you were in the same room, he had this cold, this calm and collected air around him, like he truly didn’t need you. Which he obviously didn’t. After all, he almost killed you.

But in that moment he had trouble hiding it. And he was probably grateful that you didn’t sense his presence behind you. He did that sometimes. He used these soft and peaceful moments to watch over you and make sure you were still there. After all, you didn’t speak. He had to make sure that you were still well and alive somehow.

But that night was different. That night the pull was far more intense than it usually was. He sighed very softly and looked down at the blister in his hand. Only four were missing. Four of twenty-eight tiny pills.

Four days in which you took the active decision against whatever the hell that was between you. It was essential to keep consequences out of the way.

But only for four days. And now, it was the eleventh day, but only four were missing. He stared down firmly at it, before he took a step closer and carefully placed the blister down on your nightstand. With another slow step he took, he hovered right above you. You looked so incredibly peaceful. He tilted his head to the side and watched you with the same, thoughtful frown. With a slow breath that he released, he reached out a hand. It hovered right above your face, his knuckles ready to push your hair back and caress your cheek. You were still so beautiful. He knew the hair had probably broken your heart. He had seen the look in your eyes, the silent tears and the way you struggled to look at him ever since. But couldn’t you see that you were still so incredibly beautiful, so exquisite? That no amount of hair lost, that no scar or mark could ever corrupt your undying beauty?

His frown deepened. And after a breath, he pulled his hand away.

He was already about to pull back and leave, when you shifted. You were obviously deep asleep, mumbling to yourself and sighing against the pillow. Your shirt rode up the tiniest bit and it revealed the skin of your waist. He clenched his jaw. Of course he felt the familiar feeling of desire stir in the pit of his stomach. But, no. Not like this. Not ever.

Not, when you couldn’t even look at him.

The sight of your waist also stirred something else in him. The indescribable urge to murder. To murder the man who once murdered your innocence. What a coward he was. To die, before he got to put his hands on him. Gutless.

He reached for the blanket, ready to wrap it around you, when his gaze wandered to your stomach for a moment. Another feeling took hold of him, far more intense than any carnal desire ever could.

His frown deepened even more and he reached out a hand, but this time he didn’t hesitate to touch you. His fingers rested on the soft, sensitive skin of your belly. You stirred, but only for a short moment. He wasn’t afraid you’d wake up. His thoughts were running rampage and he was too focused on the image in his head. The soft curve of your belly, the life that would possibly grow inside you one day. His life. His flesh and blood.

His.

Maybe it was already there. Who could tell? He had only then found the blister. But you seemed to know for what were seven days now.

His frown didn’t falter as his gaze wandered up and down your form. He exhaled a soft sigh and tilted his head down, resting his forehead against your back. He closed his eyes and bit his lip to keep himself from doing anything more.

You hadn’t spoken in days. He couldn’t just wake you up and demand whatever the hell. Even he knew that. But he still had to hold himself back forcefully. The feel of you, the smell of your skin, it drove him wild.

He hummed softly and leaned closer, close enough to press a soft, lingering kiss against the bare skin of your belly. You stirred again and mumbled something inaudible. He took it that was his cue to leave. With a soft sigh he got up and made his way back to the doorframe. He looked back at you once more, before he left the room.

Only four days. Huh.

You truly were his girl.

_______________________________

Tag list 1:

@mitsuki-dreamfree @kpopsmutty69 @heroine-chique @vkeyy @mizuwki @blu-brrys @z0mbi345 @yourpointbreak @ayieayee @freddyzeppsworld @lola11111111 @indifitel6661 @salesmanlover08 @laurenbenoit70 @lalalaa2210 @lila-marshal @auspicious-lilana @0-aubrie0 @lovelyaegyo @theredvelvetbitch @violentbluess @muriels-lover @dorayakissu @eviebuggg @muchwita @ririgy @strxlemon @obsessedwthdilfs @kiwilov3 @misty-q

Thank you @muriels-lover for the lovely request! I loved it so much and I hope it's approximately the thing you had in mind! And also, I have your other request in the back of my mind still, don't worry, I loved that one as well!

I love you all! SO much! And I'm still working on answering all your sweet messages (which continue making me tear up, in case you didn't know!)

[fear-is-truth]

ft. in-ho (frontman) ‧ hyun-ju (120) ‧ nam-gyu (124) ‧ su-bong (230) ‧ se-mi (380) ‧ dae-ho (388)

a/n — pov: you’re a player in the game

HWANG IN-HO (황인호) / FRONTMAN

in-ho notices before you even say anything. in-ho isn’t one for emotional conversations, but he’s super observant. he picks up on the way your shoulders tense, how you’ve gone quiet. he won’t call it out immediately, but he clocks it.

he doesn’t dance around it. the moment he notices something’s off, he tells you. “you look upset.” not a question, just an observation.

gives you space to talk but doesn’t pry. if you want to tell him, you will. in-ho won’t ask unnecessary questions or pressure you for details. just a quiet, expectant pause, as if he already knows you’ll answer.

doesn’t hover, doesn’t fuss. just stays close enough to remind you that you’re not alone.

his version of comfort is practical, no empty reassurances. if there’s something to be done, he’ll do it. if not, he makes it clear that whatever it is, he’ll handle it for you.

if you haven’t eaten, he’ll make sure you do. sets a warm drink beside you without a word. adjusts the thermostat if it’s too cold. finds small ways to ease your discomfort.

physical comfort is rare but meaningful. maybe a firm hand on your shoulder, a slow squeeze before pulling away. he isn’t overly affectionate, but if you lean into him, he doesn’t pull away.

CHO HYUN-JU (조현주) / PLAYER 120

sits down next to you and takes your hand. just reaches over and laces her fingers with yours, thumb brushing against your knuckles. warm, solid. she’s not letting go unless you do first.

leans in a little, tilts her head toward you, brows slightly furrowed. “talk to me.” not a really a demand, just an open door. if you shake your head, she won’t press, just squeezes your hand lightly.

pep talks like it’s second nature. if you start spiraling, hyun-ju is quick to counter it. “okay, listen. you’re not a failure, you’re not a burden, and whatever your brain is telling you? it’s wrong.” her voice is firm, but there’s a softness to it. “you’ve got this. i know you do. and i’m here if you ever need me.”

reminds you of your strength. “you’ve survived worse,” she says, squeezing your fingers. “you always pull through. and even if you don’t believe in yourself right now, i do.”

stays until you’re okay. whether it’s five minutes or an hour, she’s not going anywhere.

NAM-GYU (남규) / PLAYER 124

at first, nam-gyu just observes—eyes flicking over your face, noting the way you’re withdrawn. he doesn’t ask what’s wrong right away, just sits nearby, waiting.

he’s not naturally comforting, but he knows how to play the part. if he wants to keep you close, he has to. so he tilts his head, widens his eyes a little, makes his voice soft. “you okay?”

“i don’t like seeing you like this,” he murmurs, tucking his hands into his sleeves like paws, like he’s the one who’s hurt.

he touches you more when you’re upset. a hesitant pat on your back, a nudge of his knee against yours.

if you lean into him, he doesn’t pull away. might even rest a hand on your head for a second before clearing his throat and acting like he didn’t.

CHOI SU-BONG (최수봉) / PLAYER 230

his version of concern is kinda abrasive. “you look like shit,” he says instead of asking what’s wrong. he’s not trying to be mean (for once), just stating the obvious. it’s his way of getting you to talk.

gets uncharacteristically serious if it’s bad. if he realizes this isn’t just a bad mood, his usual joking stops.

weirdly loyal in moments like this. for all his loudmouth tendencies, he doesn’t go blabbing about your problems to anyone else. if you trust him with something, he keeps it to himself.

his version of comfort is physical. a hard pat on the back, an arm slung around your shoulders. if you’re really down, he might—might—go as far as ruffling your hair like you’re an annoying little sibling.

doesn’t do deep talks. if you try to open up, he’ll listen—kind of—but don’t expect much in the way of emotional wisdom. “yeah, life kinda sucks. what else is new?” it sounds dismissive, but he’s actually just bad at handling this stuff. still, he stays, which says more than his words ever could.

if someone upset you, he’s taking names. next thing you know, that person is “accidentally” getting shoved in the food line or tripped up during a game.

deflects with humor. his go-to method for cheering you up is cracking jokes or roasting someone else to make you laugh.

tries to distract you. if talking about feelings isn’t your thing, he’ll change the subject. starts rambling about something random, or nudges you into a conversation about literally anything else.

if you cry, he freezes for a second. but he recovers quickly, sighs, pulls you into a loose hug. “shh, shh. don’t cry, it’s ugly.”

not good at expressing sincerity, but he tries. if he sees you sulking too long, he gets fidgety. taps his fingers, rolls his shoulders, then finally mumbles, “look, just don’t—don’t let this shit eat you up, alright?” he won’t say more than that, but the concern is genuine.

SE-MI (세미) / PLAYER 380

she notices immediately. she won’t say anything at first, just side-eyes you now and then, gauging your mood. she’s not the type to ask, “are you okay?”—she knows if you want to talk, you will.

gives you space, but not too much. she’ll stay nearby, maybe leaning against a wall, arms crossed. not hovering, just making it clear that she’s there if you need her.

eventually, she’ll make a passing comment like, “you’re quiet today.” not prying, not pushing—just an opening if you want to take it.

subtle gestures. she’s not physically affectionate, but if she knows you need comfort, she might nudge your shoulder lightly, hand you an extra piece of her food, or offer to hold your hand without saying anything.

if someone upset you, she’ll remember. she won’t make a scene, won’t go after them like thanos or nam-gyu, but she’ll keep a mental note. next time there’s a chance to put them in their place (verbally), she will.

makes sure you’re okay without making it obvious. later, when things have calmed down, she’ll casually check in. “feeling better?” short, simple, but it means she cares.

KANG DAE-HO (강대호) / PLAYER 388

doesn’t push. if you’re not in the mood to talk, dae-ho respects that. he just plops down beside you next to you, close but not crowding, letting his presence do the comforting. sometimes, that’s all you need.

knows when to joke and when to stay quiet. if he senses you need a distraction, he’ll say something lighthearted. if you just need silence, he respects that too. he grew up with four sisters—he knows when to shut up and when to just be there.

gives you a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder or a light pat on the back.

super empathetic. if you do open up, he listens without interrupts, just nodding along, occasionally humming in agreement. he won’t try to fix things with empty words—just validates how you feel.

gets protective of you in an almost brotherly way.

dae-ho never makes you feel like a burden. no frustration—just patience, warmth, and support.

──⟢  fear-is-truth — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗜’𝗩𝗘 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥 𝗪𝗔𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗗 lando norris x  fem! reader (angst) fic summary . . . Lando's playboy image has everyone, including yourself, convinced he's just another guy who sleeps around, until he finally opens up about his feelings that is (482 words)

( my master list | more of lando norris ) ( requests )

There was a sharp edge to your voice tonight. Lando had heard you angry before, but never like this. Never when it was aimed at him.

“You know what, Lando?” you snapped, arms crossed as you stood in his hotel room. “Why don’t you go find some random girl and fuck your feelings out like you always do?”

Lando flinched like you’d struck him.

You didn’t even see it. Or maybe you did, but you didn’t care—not in the heat of the moment. Not when he’d been pissing you off all night, poking at you, pushing, teasing like always, but this time it was different. This time it hurt, and you didn’t even know why.

Lando let out a short laugh, but there was nothing funny about it. “Is that really what you think of me?”

You scoffed. “Everyone knows, Lando. It’s not exactly a secret.”

Everyone. Social media. The paddock. The world.

Everyone had an opinion about him. About the playboy image, about the girls, about the headlines. He knew what people said. Knew what they thought.

But he never thought you believed it.

Lando exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. His voice was quieter now, strained. “You really think I just sleep around with random girls?”

You shrugged, still defensive. “I mean… yeah?”

And fuck—something inside him cracked.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his whole body taut like a string pulled too tight. His throat was burning, his heart was pounding, and suddenly, the words he’d been burying for years clawed their way up his throat.

“I don’t.”

Your brows furrowed. “What?”

“I don’t sleep around,” Lando bit out. His voice shook, but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. “Because the only girl I have ever wanted is you.”

The air in the room changed.

You blinked, lips parting slightly, but no words came out.

Lando let out a breath, shaking his head. “God, do you have any idea what it’s like?” His voice wavered now, and fuck, his eyes were stinging. “To be so fucking in love with you that it hurts?”

He laughed bitterly, swiping at his face. “I can’t even look at another girl because no one—no one—could ever compare to you. And yet, here you are, shouting at me, looking at me like I’m some kind of—some kind of fucking stranger.”

You still weren’t saying anything.

“Jesus, Yn,” Lando whispered, voice thick with emotion. “You’re tearing me apart.”

His chest felt tight, too tight, like his ribs couldn’t contain everything inside him anymore. Like it was all breaking apart and you were just standing there, watching him bleed.

Silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating.

And then, finally, your lips parted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“…You love me?”

Lando huffed out a breath, looking away as a tear slipped down his cheek. “I don’t know how to do anything else.”

“Just—just forget it,” he mumbled. “I’ll go.”

And then he turned, chest tight, hands trembling—because if he stayed, if he looked at you for even a second longer, he was pretty sure his heart would never recover.

[wendichester]

May I request a Dean x Reader? I was thinking about them being in a relationship since YEARS and it’s now settled at season 15 (?) or so; reader and Dean are in a motel bathroom and reader is cutting dean’s hair when they notice some gray hair and idk i was just thinking about them pointing that out and cutely teasing him.

Thank you if you’ll do it❤️

P.S. I love your blog so so much you can’t even imagine!!❤️

⋆.˚ ★ silver fox-ish,

summary. dean first gray hair is something to celebrate.

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 409

notes. dean is forever wholesome! thank you for requesting this cutie 🩷

The tiny bathroom is barely big enough for the two of you. The buzzing of clippers fills the air, mixing with the faint sound of classic rock playing on the radio perched on the motel’s peeling countertop. Dean sits on the closed toilet lid, his legs spread wide, his hands resting on his thighs. You’re standing behind him, focused on your task, the scissors snipping at his hair with practiced ease.

“Man, I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Dean mutters, though there’s a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You trust me, don’t you?” you tease, tilting his head gently to the side so you can trim around his ear.

“Yeah, but if I end up looking like a damn porcupine, we’re gonna have words.”

You laugh, your fingers carding through his hair to check for uneven spots. “Relax. I’m good at this.”

As you comb through the strands, something catches your eye—a faint glimmer against the warm brown. You pause, leaning closer, your lips quirking up.

“Well, well,” you say, your voice laced with amusement. “What do we have here?”

Dean glances up at you in the mirror, his brows furrowed. “What?”

You pluck a single gray strand from his hair and hold it up for him to see. “Your first gray hair, old man.”

Dean groans, leaning back against the wall. “Aw, come on. Seriously?”

“Seriously.” You’re grinning now, twirling the strand between your fingers like it’s a prize. “I always knew this day would come, but I didn’t think it’d happen this soon.”

“Soon? I’m in my forties! That’s ancient in hunter years,” he retorts, though the way his ears flush gives away his embarrassment.

“Don’t worry, silver fox,” you tease, leaning down so your chin rests on his shoulder. “I think it’s sexy.”

He snorts. “Yeah, sure. Next thing I know, you’ll be swapping my pie for applesauce and signing me up for bingo night.”

You laugh, kissing his temple. “You’re still Dean Winchester. Gray hair or not, you’re the handsomest man I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Dean huffs, but his lips twitch into a smile. “You'll never stop being a brat,”

“You can bet on that,” you say, giving his hair a final ruffle.

As you step back to admire your handiwork, Dean catches your wrist, pulling you down into his lap. His green eyes lock with yours, soft and full of something that feels like home.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystemss ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @defnot-svnshine ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @lieutenantchaos ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion

[muniimyg]

ੈ εつ‧₊˚° ♡ ༘ ctrl+alt+delete // jjk ༘ ♡ °˚₊‧ εつ ੈ*

25 // next // series m. list

note: the reveal !

warnings: kissing, grinding, missionary, ummm.. one leg on headboard position idk, doggy, and riding ! dirty talk (daddy, fanboy, fucktoy, whore, etc) idk what else but that's the vibe ! enj <3

//

the past month with jungkook has been nothing short of fun and comfort. all you’ve felt with him is this kind of warmth that sneaks up on you when you least expect it.

jungkook is playful in ways that make your stomach ache from laughter and patient in ways that make your heart swell. he’s always giving in, always biting into you—whether it’s your words, your antics, or the way you press your fingers into his jaw when he teases you too much. he’s funny and charming in ways that are overbearing—smothering—if it weren’t for the fact that you love every second of it. 

and god… 

it’s been so hard not to slip out the words. 

you love him. 

it’s only been a month, but what the fuck does time has to do with the kind of certainty he makes you feel? the kind of love he makes you believe in? 

because this is… this is it. this is love. there is nothing else it could be. 

jungkoook is a gentleman in ways you never expected. 

not just in the hold-the-door-open-for-you way, but in the way he holds it open for the people behind you, too. to him, it’s second nature. it’s the same way it’s second nature for him to shrug off his hoodie and tug it over your shoulders before you even realize you’re cold. it’s in the way he loves everything you are, everything you wear, but still, when you lean in to take a bite of food, his hand finds your chest, shielding you from prying eyes like it’s instinct.

“baby,” you laugh, mid-bite, muffled. “you don’t have to do that.”

he just shrugs, nonchalant. “they don’t deserve the view.”

even at the movies, as he walks behind you, it’s the way his hand is placed at your lower back, guiding and protective. in crowded spaces, he pulls you into his side and tucks you against him like a secret. at dinners, he doesn’t just push your chair in—he makes sure your drink is within reach, makes sure you get the first bite of his food before he even digs into his own.

it’s so strange. 

to feel such passion for someone in a short amount of time—but who are you to reject such goodness? such satisfaction? 

so you don’t. 

for the past month, you have let yourself be loved the way you deserve to be. for the past month, you have been loving him the way he deserves to be loved… except, through sex. 

oh god. 

sex. 

you haven’t had sex with anyone since your ex-boyfriend. it’s always just been you and your vibrators… so, when you met jungkook—fuck. 

you were excited. 

but after the first time you met and he didn’t kiss you… you had a gut feeling sex with him would take time. which is fine. he’s a loser anyway, what did you expect? 

but time (and ovulation) catches up. your lips want to kiss something that isn’t his lips. in fact, you want his lips to be kissing your lips—the ones in between your legs. 

the frustration has been eating you up for days. so, you give in to your cravings at your one month mark. it was a joke—at least, it was meant to be one… instead, you find yourself scrambling through your closet for lingerie you think he’ll like best. 

you choose black. 

simple, classy, and sexy. perfect for him. 

once you get yourself dressed, you put on a silk robe and spray your favourite perfume. you touch up your make-up (yes, we’re wearing makeup and sweating it off) and eagerly wait for him. for a moment, you stare at yourself in the mirror and tilt your head. 

wow, you’re so pretty. 

you hope he lasts longer than 5 minutes—

just then, there’s a knock on the door

hurriedly, you let out a little squeal before heading to the front door. 

as you open the door, you find jungkook standing there, a cake box balanced in one hand, the other shoved into the pocket of his hoodie. his hair is a mess—like he’s been running his fingers through it over and over, the way he always does when he’s nervous. but the smirk tugging at his lips betrays him.

without a word, he lifts the lid of the box, revealing the cake inside. in bright, obnoxious frosting, the words;

best dick ever 

… stare back at you.

you blink. 

then snort. 

then burst into laughter, covering your mouth with your hand. 

“aren’t you getting ahead of yourself?”

“oh… right. sorry,” he says, feigning innocence as he tilts his head. “should i make it up to you?”

you narrow your eyes. “yeah.”

his brows lift, playful. “yeah? like how?”

you don’t answer. instead, you grab a fistful of his hoodie and pull him in, catching his mouth in a kiss. he hums against your lips, the corners of his mouth quirking up. mid-kiss, he murmurs, “happy one month, baby.”

you laugh into him, harder this time, shaking your head as your arms slip around his neck. and when he tugs at the knot of your robe, letting it slip from your shoulders, he throws his head back with a groan—boyish, excited, so very him.

“fuck,” he grins, placing the cake down on the coffee table without looking, hands already reaching for you. but you’re already a step ahead, fisting his hoodie again, tugging him toward your room.

he follows without hesitation.

 the hottest thing anyone can do is want you.

like, all of you. 

jungkook is sure to do just that. 

the minute jungkook steps into your bedroom, he tugs his hoodie over his head, tossing it somewhere behind him without a second thought. his hands move to his pocket, pulling out his phone. at first, you think he’s checking something—maybe a text, maybe the time—but instead, he holds it up so you can see.

the screen goes black as he shuts it off.

for a second, you’re confused. he’s always on his phone, always checking something, scrolling absentmindedly even in the middle of conversations. but then, it clicks.

jungkook wants all of you.

this isn’t about notifications ruining the mood, not about avoiding distractions or the buzz of the outside world. it’s a quiet declaration—he doesn’t need a screen, doesn’t need to record, doesn’t need anything but this. he doesn’t need proof. 

he just needs you.

his eyes flicker up to meet yours, searching, waiting.

your chest tightens, warmth blooming in your stomach. you swallow, stepping closer, fingers skimming over his wrist before you take the phone from his hand, placing it on your nightstand.

“just us?” you murmur.

his lips twitch. 

“just us.”

and then he’s kissing you, slow and deep, like he’s savoring the moment already. like he’s making sure you feel it, too.

for someone who has been salivating, craving, and whining for his dick—you sure have a funny way of showing him just how bad you want it. 

as jungkook’s toned and slightly sweaty body towers of you, you bite your lip and watch the way his chain dangles above. you’re sweating a bit, a little overstimulated from the way he just finished eating you out. 

of course, he edged you. he didn’t let you finish on his tongue, but you were so fucking close. your pussy is currently throbbing and so sore from the agonizing pain of clenching. 

jungkook smirks, watching you regulate your breathing. you aren’t panting or anything, but he can tell you’re trying to play it cool. he leans in, kissing your lips ever so slightly. 

“it’s okay to cum.”

“says you.”

he chuckles and mocks you. “says you.”

“shut up and put it in.”

jungkook raises a brow at you. “i’d watch your mouth if i were you.”

“why’s that, daddy? am i being naughty? we’re not even doing this raw. if anything, i’m not being naughty enough.”

he rolls his eyes. 

“you and your fucking attitude.” 

“what attitude?”

“shut up.”

“you shut up—oh…”

jungkook holds his length and glides it around your entrance. you feel his head enter for a millisecond before he uses his hard cock to split through your wet folds. he hums, taking the feeling in. you let out little whimpers, needy and ever so lewd.

it’s music to his hears. in fact, it’s his favourite melody. 

“gonna put it in,” jungkook prepares you. “okay, baby?”

“o-okay,” you breathe. “mhmmmm…”

then, jungkook hisses. 

he feels himself harden even more as he pushes himself inside you. your cunt is so fucking tight, it sends shivers throughout his body. you’re so warm and so fucking pretty as he watches the way you shift, adjusting to his size. you roll your shoulders back, your chin is slightly tilted as you whimper his name. 

“jungkook…”

“mhmm?” 

he moves in more, and then entirely. jungkook buries his long, hard, thick, and veiny cock inside you. it slips in easily, all thanks to your precious wetness. jungkook shifts his position, lowering his body more and places kisses around your neck to your ear. 

for a moment, he blanks. 

this is all he has ever wanted. he wanted to wait for a month because of everything you were dealing with but also because… he knew it would be worth the wait. the tension, the built connection, and the yearning… oh god, does this feel so fucking good. 

to put it into perspective; you’re home and he’s been homesick. 

“nghhh… jungkook?”

“yes, baby?”

“can you put it in?”

jungkook’s eyes shoot up at you. 

his pleasurable expression changes into a death glare. 

instantly, you throw your head back and laugh. you mumble an apology and cup his cheeks to kiss him. he bites your bottom lip as he pulls away. pouting, he huffs at you. 

“that wasn’t funny.”

“it was so funny.”

“you’re the worst, actually.”

“i know,” you agree. “i’m sorry. you’re actually really big.”

his glare stills. 

“how big?”

you sigh and give in to what he’s leading you to. 

“you big daddy,” you begin to praise him. “never felt cock like this. feel you in my guts… god, are you gonna rearrange them? gonna slut me out? bet watching me all this time made you so horny. did i make you horny? was waiting out one month worth it? do i feel good, baby? does your giant monster cock feel good inside me? or… are you just gonna be a little bitch and make me do all the work? make me fuck you like the good little fanboy you are?”

“not a fucking fanboy.”

“but you are my stupid fanboy… you must’ve loved watching me get myself off. how does it feel, daddy? how does it feel to fuck the pussy you’ve been dreaming of?”

jungkook moans in response. 

“so good..”

“how good?”

“too good…”

he places one forearm down beside you as the other reaches for your breasts. squeezing it, he begins to thrust in and out of you. 

“ohhh.. oh my god… yes, yes, yes! y-yeah, that’s it…” you moan. “just like that, daddy… fucking me so gently… come on, daddy—i know i’m your favourite toy. use me, okay? promise to use me like a little bitch?”

jungkook hisses through his teeth. 

“don’t talk about yourself like that, baby. you know how much i—”

“how much you… what?”

love you. 

“how much i… god, you’re so pretty. have you always been this pretty? feel like you got prettier.” 

with that, he fucks you harder and faster. the switch-up is so crazy that you hit your head on your headboard. 

“shit, you okay?”

you can’t help but laugh. 

“i’m fine,” you reassure him. “come on, daddy… keep going.” 

as he fucks you, your breasts move in unison and he can’t help but drool at the sight. for a split second, you feel him tremble. 

it’s like he’s about to give in. 

so, you do the only logical thing you can. 

you gasp, eyes widening, mouth hanging open in exaggerated shock. then, slowly—dramatically—you stick your arm out, turning your thumb downward like you’ve just witnessed the most tragic disappointment of your life.

“boooooo!” 

“w-what the fuck?” jungkook rolls his eyes. 

without hesitation, he roughly places his hand over your neck. tightening his grip, he fucks you harder. you gasp for air and roll your eyes back. 

you take the feeling it. 

how rough and fast he’s pumping himself inside you. how you feel yourself climaxing soon… how wet you are and how it’s spilling into your sheets. how his dick feels inside you—like it belongs inside you. 

the curve of his tip hits specific spots inside you that has never been reached before. his length, girth, and motion compliment each other—making him fucking you easily your favourite feeling in the world. 

perhaps, he was right about waiting for a month. 

the yearning and tension makes all of this feel a million times more worth it. 

“nghhh,” you croak. “t-that it, daddy… f-fuck me harder! fuck me so hard!”

“you want me to fuck you harder, baby?” 

“mhmm. fuck me so good, please… wanna more.”

jungkook nods and takes his hand off of your throat. he lets you catch your breath before he pulls himself out of you. jungkook places his hands on your waist and pulls you down. without hesitation, he kneels and lifts you. both of your ears ring from how fast your hearts are beating as he takes one and places it on the headboard and leaves the other on the mattress. 

“look down,” jungkook spits. 

obediently, you do. 

he hisses, jerks himself off, and then shoves his cock inside you. 

you watch as his balls smack into your ass. you watch as he moves his hips, dragging his dick in and out of you. you hear the sound of your wet pussy, sucking his length as he pulls out. before you know it, jungkook is smacking your ass. you see his hand flying to your cheeks and you let out a whimper as his palms make contact with your ass. 

“nghh…. feels so—”

“you wanna be treated like a fucking whore? look at your pussy right now. look at how much it needs my stupid cock. do you see it, baby? do you see how desperate your pussy needs my cock?”

“yeah,” you choke out a sob. “need you so much… my pussy is yours, daddy. so fucking yours—ahh! oh my god, oh my god—j-jungkook!”

he grabs a handful of your hair and pulls you back up. roughly, he tugs your hair and kisses you. you let out a moan as he takes your leg off your headboard and brings you to the edge of your bed. naturally, you get on all fours and arch your back. he gets off the bed and stands behind you. he licks his fingers and explores your folds before placing his dick back inside. 

as expected, he fucks you like an absolute dog. 

“this is what you wanted, right?”

“m-mhmm,” you moan. “so good. you fuck me so good, daddy..”

“that’s right, baby… only me. god, your ass is so pretty. your tits are so perfect. you’re so… holy fuck, you’re my dream girl.”

“yeah?” you blush, fighting the urge to cum. 

“yeah,” jungkook whimpers. “my dream girl.”

with that, he pulls himself out. you crawl back to the middle of your bed and wait for him to join you. when he does, he crashes his lips onto yours and gives you this deep and passionate kiss. like he’s never kissed you before… it feels so new. 

without exchanging words, you grab him by his shoulders and have him lie down. you get on top and begin to grind on him. jungkook watches with his brows knitted together and his throat dries as you hump his cock. then, he loses it when you lift your hips and take a hold of his cock. 

“can we… can i?”

jungkook nods. 

no hesitation. not a thought behind his doe eyes. nothing. 

of course, he’d do it raw with you. 

anything you want. 

with loving eyes, jungkook watches as you peel the condom off his angry cock. you twist the plastic around your fingers and gather it all up before dangling it in front of him. 

“you have to cum inside me.”

“okay.”

“promise?”

“promise.”

with that, you toss the condom to the side and giggle. planting your legs on either side of him, you sit on top of his raw cock and rub yourself on it. you move your hips up and down, taking the feeling of how the curves of his dick feel against your swollen pussy. jungkook watches his dick’s tip grow angrier and angrier. 

and just when he feels like it’s about to explore—

“ohhh,” you shiver as you sink into his cock. “holy shit…”

jungkook lets out a relieved moan. you hum as he throws his head back and shuts his eyes. you feel him harden even more inside of you. as a reaction, your walls tighten. 

“feel so good, baby…”

“yeah? open your eyes, daddy… don’t you wanna watch me fuck you?”

jungkook doesn’t know if he’ll last if he sees this. if he watches your tits bounce or if he watches the way your pussy eats his dick up… he can’t. he’s not strong enough. 

“might cum if i do.”

you laugh and hit his chest. 

“okay… cum then.” 

wiht that, you grab his hand and place it on your breast. jungkook lifts his head and opens his eyes. he watches as you bounce on his dick shamelessly. you throw your head back. your hips move fast and slow—dragging the consuming feeling of climaxing out. 

then, jungkook feels his hips about to buck. 

“___,” he huffs. “gonna cum…’

“me too,” you pant.

jungkook winces, feeling his toes curl. he feels like he’s just been hit by lightening as this sense of electricity rushes throughout his body. jungkook cums inside you, spilling as you continue to ride him. 

shortly after, you cum. 

then, you get off him. you fit yourself into jungkook’s arms without a second thought, tucking yourself against his chest like you belong there—because you do. his warmth wraps around you instantly, familiar and safe, and he presses a kiss to your lips, then your forehead, lingering just long enough to make your heart stutter.

then, he murmurs, “so… best dick ever?”

you groan, smacking his chest, but you’re already laughing. you’re already pulling him in for another kiss. he’s already kissing you back. 

“best dick ever.”

the room is quiet. 

your breathing is even, soft against the pillow, completely knocked out. jungkook lays there for a moment, staring at the ceiling before sighing, pushing the covers off. he’s thirsty.

jungkook rubs a hand over his face as he makes his way to the kitchen, feet padding softly against the floor. he’s thirsty.

but when he gets there, he stops.

hoseok is at the sink, sleeves rolled up, hands submerged in soapy water. his hair is slightly damp, like he’s just gotten home and taken a quick shower. the fridge door is still cracked open from when he shoved the cake inside.

jungkook leans against the counter, watching him. "you just get back?"

hoseok doesn’t look up. 

"yeah. figured i’d clean up a bit."

jungkook hums, grabbing a glass. he watches as hoseok rinses a plate, setting it neatly in the drying rack. his movements are methodical, familiar.

"you always do this?" jungkook asks, filling his glass with water. “wash dishes at 3am?”

hoseok shrugs. "she’s sensitive to smell. hates waking up to dirty dishes."

there’s something about the way he says it, like he’s done this a thousand times before, like it’s second nature. jungkook doesn’t like the way that sits in his chest.

jungkook takes a sip of water, trying to figure out the vibe right now. he’s never really had any issues with hoseok before but for some reason… right now… something feels off. 

hoseok finishes up, wiping his hands on a towel before tossing it onto the counter.

"you should get some sleep," he says, already heading towards his room.

jungkook swallows the last of his water. "i’ll wash my cup."

hoseok raises a brow. "you don’t have to."

"i want to."

there’s a brief pause before hoseok nods, drying his hands one last time before disappearing down the hall. jungkook turns back to the sink, rinsing out his cup. then, just as he reaches for the faucet, something buzzes.

he glances over. hoseok’s phone, left carelessly on the counter, screen lighting up with a notification.

jungkook shouldn’t look. he knows that.

but he does anyway.

@ donotdisturb: hobi idc if you gave me the video ffs @ donotdisturb: u gave that to me all on ur own. i never asked for that shit. i tweeted it, but u supplied it. get that thru ur fucking head. it’s ur fault.  @ donotdisturb: u’ve stalled her enough. she’s pushing thru with the fucking lawsuit thanks to that fucking jungkook guy. do u get that?  @ donotdisturb: i’m getting sued and it’s all ur fault @ donotdisturb: shit, what kind of a best friend are u to her anyway? going thru her shit and stealing her fucking sex tape to send to a hater like me when the gag is that u’re her biggest hater. what is that?  @ donotdisturb: thought u liked her lol. turns out u’re the worst wannabe boyfriend  @ donotdisturb: stop the lawsuit or send me fucking money to pay the settlement. this is ur last warning before i expose u. 

jungkook freezes as he reads the notifications. 

his grip tightens around the cup. his jaw clenches. the words sit heavy in his stomach, stirring something ugly.

before he can think, before he can stop himself, he picks up the phone and storms down the hall, shoving open hoseok’s door without knocking.

hoseok barely has time to react before jungkook is in his face, voice sharp. 

"what the fuck did you do?"

hoseok freezes for half a second, then instantly goes on the defensive. "who the fuck do you think you are barging into my room like this?" he snaps. "why do you have my fucking phone? give me that—”

“it was you.”

“what the fuck are you on? holy shit, you’re so fucking irritating, you know that? i get you’re her boyfriend, but this is my fucking room, that’s my fucking phone, and she’s my fucking best friend—"

"that’s all she is to you," jungkook bites. "right?"

silence.

before hoseok can even open his mouth to say anything, you appear in the doorway, rubbing sleep from your eyes. you don’t even think twice before stepping into jungkook’s side, arms looping around his waist as you nuzzle into him.

"why are you guys so loud?" you mumble, half awake. "what’s going on?"

jungkook doesn’t look away from hoseok. yet, his arm tightens around you.

“___…” hoseok begins. “jungkook… it’s late. we can talk about this tomorrow—”

“no,” jungkook spits. “explain yourself now.”

hoseok steps forward, attempting to grab his phone. jungkook doesn’t move back. instead, he offers the phone to you. 

you stare at it blankly. 

with worried eyes, hoseok shakes his head. “please, jungkook. i’m begging you. don’t—”

“tell her," jungkook deadpans. his tone is steady and leaves no room for argument. he means it with all his heart when he threatens hoseok; "right now… tell her or i will."

[hanniebaeee]

Honey Cakes

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MDNI

Genre: established relationship, smuttyyyy, fluff

Summary: Hyunjin had it all planned out - a romantic dinner date (plus the surprise). But then he gets almost stood up, and then edged to near insanity. By the time dessert is done, so is his patience.

a/n: Someone sent me something, and I went feral ( @kittentaegu sweetheart, thank you for inspiring me hehe)

The first thing you see when you wake up is chaos in the form of a hundred texts and missed calls from your boyfriend. 

You are still groggy from sleep, but your heart nearly stops as you pick up the phone.

Hyunjin [7:30 PM]: Baby. Love of my life. Where are you?  

Hyunjin [7:30 PM]: I swear to God, if you’re dead, I will kill you.

Hyunjin [7:31 PM]: I’m literally sitting here looking like an abandoned puppy.

Hyunjin [7:32 PM]: The waiter asked if I needed water and was looking at me funny. 

Hyunjin [7:35 PM]: Just say it. You don’t love me anymore.

Hyunjin [7:36 PM]: I was a fool to believe in love.

Hyunjin [7:38 PM]: BRB ordering the most expensive wine so I can SOB into it.

Hyunjin [7:40 PM]: There's a happy couple at the next table. Omg I wanna die 😭

Oh, shit.

Your heart drops as you realize that your fifteen-minute power nap has turned into a one hour coma. It had been such an exhausting day at work, and all you wanted was to take a short nap before you met Hyunjin for your dinner date.

And now your dramatic ass boyfriend is left unsupervised in a fancy restaurant with his overactive imagination. You fumble with the phone as you call him immediately. He picks up in half a ring.

“Oh finally you called,” he sighs, voice dripping with melodrama. “Just say it.”

“Say what?” You sit up too fast and almost fall off the bed.

“You stood me up for thirty minutes,” he declares dramatically. “I am SITTING HERE ALONE in a romantic, candlelit, EXPENSIVE ASS RESTAURANT, looking like a HEARTBROKEN FOOL.”  

You press your lips together because you absolutely cannot laugh right now. Not when he’s being so serious about his suffering.

“Hyunjin, baby,” you say, raiding your wardrobe for something that will make up for this little mishap. And you grin as your eyes land on that dress. 

You haven't worn it before. Another one of Hyunjin's gifts - because he daydreams of you in all pretty outfits his eyes fall on and comes home with the said outfit, begging you to wear it for him. 

“I didn’t stand you up, I just -”

“Oh, so neglect is different from abandonment now?” he challenges, sniffing for dramatic effect. “Interesting.”

“Baby I accidentally took a nap -”

“Oh my God.” He gasps. “You slept through our date?”

“I love you Jinnie, and I’m so sorry -”

“Don’t gaslight me with love.”

You do a quick job with your makeup, and he's still ranting on the other side as you grab your keys and sprint out the door.

“I’m on my way right now, honey bun, I swear.”

“You’d better be,” he grumbles. “Because if I finish this glass alone, I’m throwing myself into the restaurant fountain.”

When you get there, panting from running in heels, Hyunjin is sitting at a candlelit table in the corner looking like a masterpiece and a neglected princess all at once.

You rush over, but before you can even apologize properly, he exhales exaggeratedly. 

“Did you have a nice nap?” he says coolly, twirling his wine glass.

You bite your lip, willing yourself not to laugh.

“Hyunjin, baby -”

“No. It’s fine.” He looks away dramatically. “I understand.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

You slide into the chair next to him, lean in so close your lips brushing his ear as you whisper, “I said I'm sorry, baby. I'll make it up to you.”

His entire body freezes as your warm breath fan his neck. Then he exhales, eyes dropping to your neckline, hand gripping his wine glass tight.

“This dress…” he mutters, clearing his throat.

“I knew you'll love it. I also haven't eaten all day, so I’m starving.” You smirk, running a teasing hand down his thigh.

He chokes on air.

“Okay. I’m sure we can work this out,” he announces, eyes dark. “In fact, I am not even mad anymore.”

“Thought so.” You grin cheekily, and Hyunjin sighs because it's no secret that you have this man wrapped around your little finger.

He rests his chin on his hand as gazes at you, a soft smile playing on his gorgeous face.

And just when you think that you've won this round, Hyunjin reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a cute velvet box.

“I was going to wait, but honestly, you’re gonna put me in an early grave. So let's do this, yeah?”

Your heart stops as he opens the little box and inside it sits the prettiest ring you've ever seen. His eyes are so gentle, so full of love - none of his usual teasing or the drama. Just him.

“I had a whole speech ready for this, but you stood me up and I panicked and I -”

You swallow hard as he rambled on. He's stumbling on his words, and he's so sweet, you just want to squish cheeks and cry for days. 

“So, marry me?” His voice is so soft as he asks you that, and he's looking at you with those pretty puppy eyes, and you are sure you feel the sting of tears forming in your eyes. 

“You sure?” You tease. “I did stand you up just now.”

He groans, head dropping into the table with a mild thump.

“Just say yes before I have a heart attack.” he says, looking up at you with a smile. 

You laugh, cup his perfect face in your hands, and say the only thing that’s there to say.

“Yes.”

And Hyunjin, the love of your dramatic life, kisses you breathless before slipping the ring on your finger. And you both giggle, foreheads pressed together, and he whispers, “We’re gonna need more wine now.”

Less than fifteen minutes later - Hyunjin is suffering, to say the least. 

Like, genuinely on the verge of passing out in this very fancy restaurant where he just proposed and you said yes. Because instead of rushing home to let him show you just how insanely in love with you he is, you’re… eating. 

Like nothing life-changing just happened. The diamond ring glittered on your finger as you ate like you haven't eaten in days. Literally wolfing down the pasta in between long sips of wine.

Like your hand isn’t resting on his thigh, your fingers idly stroking his inner thigh in a way that is definitely NOT innocent. 

And Hyunjin?  He is in shambles.  

You moan as you take another bite of that darn pasta, completely oblivious to the way he grips the edge of the table like his life depended on it. 

"This is so good," you sigh, licking your lips. 

Hyunjin closes his eyes. Lord, grant me strength.

You hum in absolute bliss, and say, "Baby, you have to try this -"

Try? TRY? Oh you've been trying him for the past fifteen minutes. And now he wants to try something, alright.

He wants to drag you out of this restaurant, throw you onto the first surface he finds, and have his way with you. There is a lot he wants to try right now. 

But no.  Because he’s a gentleman. A respectable, self-controlled, newly-engaged man (who's so close to losing his shit). 

"Are you okay, honey bun?" you ask, blinking at him with innocent, pretty eyes. And Hyunjin forgets how to breathe for a second. 

His thigh tenses under your touch, and he swallows audibly.

"I’m fine," he grits out. 

You tilt your head, unconvinced.  

"You’re not touching your food." 

Because his appetite is for something else entirely, and it is not on this goddamn menu.

"Just -" He clears his throat, shifting a little in his chair. "Just thinking." About all the ways he's going to wreck you the second you both leave.  

You hum thoughtfully, dragging your hand up his thigh just a little higher, and Hyunjin prays. Because if you don’t stop, he is fully prepared to drop to his knees in the middle of this restaurant, and beg for you to let him take you home immediately.

You stab another forkful of pasta and beam at him.  

"So, what are we getting for dessert?" You ask, giving him a sunny smile. 

Hyunjin blinks. Dessert? Then he laughs. It’s a broken,  hysterical laugh. Like he just realized he might not survive the night. And you just smile sweetly, your hand still very much resting on his thigh, way too close to a growing problem. 

The final nail in his coffin was of course, dessert. 

Honey cake. Warm. Moist. So damn sweet. You take your first bite, and Hyunjin swears he saw stars.  

Your head tilts back slightly, eyes fluttering shut, lips parting in pure bliss. And Hyunjin stops breathing. So this is how he goes - sweating in his silk button down shirt, rock-hard under the table, watching a damn cake give you an orgasm. More like a foodgasm? 

You let out a soft, sinful moan, and Hyunjin grips the table for dear life. Oh hell. 

You lick the spoon slowly, completely unaware that you are seconds away from being dragged out of this restaurant by your ankles.  

"This is so good, Jinnie," you murmur, voice low and warm. "You have to try this."  

No. He cannot. He physically cannot. Because he was this close to throwing you on the table and getting banned from this restaurant for life.  Which, honestly, might be worth it at this point.  

But then you load up a spoonful, hold it up to his lips, and whisper, "Open up for me, baby."  

OH. SO YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY. 

Hyunjin glares at you, jaw so tight he might break his own teeth. But when has he ever denied you anything? He parts his lips, because he’s a damn fool. 

The second the cake melts on his tongue, his eyes slam shut. It's warm and sweet. And it is so deeply unfair that whatever culinary masterpiece this was, wasn't even close to what he actually wanted to taste right now. 

He groans, head falling onto the table again, rolling the taste over his tongue. And when he opens his eyes again, you are grinning like the devil you are.

You tilt your head, eyes full of mock innocence, and murmur, "Good, right?"  

Hyunjin inhales so deeply his lungs feel like they're ready to collapse. He stares at you and leans in, lips so close to yours, as he whispers, "Finish your cake. Then we're leaving. And when we get home, I hope you're ready, baby." 

The moment your fork clinks against the empty dessert plate, his soul fully detaches from his body. Okay. It's done. You're done. 

Now he can finally do what he has been plotting for the last two hours. His chair scrapes back so fast, and he grabs your wrist, and nearly drags you up and out in record time. 

You giggle shamelessly as Hyunjin literally throws you into the passenger seat of his car.  

He slides into the driver's seat, slams the door shut, says nothing for a minute. His head falls back against the headrest, his chest rising and falling as he tries to regulate his breathing. His fingers flex against his thighs.  

And you? You are having the time of your life.  

"Honey bun, why are you so tense?"

Hyunjin lets out a deep laugh. 

"Tense?" He turns his head to look at you, his blown-out eyes locking with yours. "Baby, I have been on the verge of dying for the past two hours." 

You bite back a grin, leaning in to press a slow, lingering kiss to his neck.  

"Mm." You hum against his hot skin. "So dramatic."  

His hand snaps out, grips your jaw, forcing your face up and his lips barely brush yours as he growls, “Wanna say that again?”

The minute you two step into your shared apartment, Hyunjin has you pressed up against the door. And he doesn’t just kiss you. He devours you.

His hands are everywhere at once - one tangling in your hair, the other gripping your ass, pulling you flush against his firm body.

He kisses you like you owe him your soul for making him suffer like that. He's so hard, it's literally painful, and he can't wait a damn minute.

He lifts you up, hands gripping your thighs, making you gasp and wrap your legs around his waist, as he pins you there, caging you between his body and the door. 

His kisses are messy and sloppy, and he's sweating so damn much. You kiss down his jaw and neck and he groans as you nip at the skin around the little black mole on his neck.

Well he couldn't wait anymore. He's stumbling through the apartment, straight into your bedroom and drops you on the bed before he pulls his shirt off. You watch him strip, your eyes roaming his perfect body. 

And his eyes are on you, his hands reaching down and under your dress to pull your panties down your legs and off. He quickly gets rid of the rest of your clothes before your lips connect again. 

He's so impatient. Grabby and needy. But the minute he's finally inside you, he slows down. Because if he didn't, he'd be cumming without literally any action. 

It’s so slow and deep, and both your bodies are so sensitive with need. Your body arches into his, desperate for him to touch you. 

It doesn't take long for both of you to come crashing down from your peaks, and you can barely breathe. Sweaty, breathless, completely spent -  you’re both a mess. Hyunjin’s chest heaves, skin glistening in the dim light. Even his skin was so damn dramatic. 

“I have never known pain like tonight," he says, voice hoarse, eyes closed. 

You snort, nuzzling closer to kissing his damp shoulder.  

"You survived, baby." 

His arm tightens around you, rolling you over so he can pin you underneath him again.  His dark eyes flicker down, lips trailing down your jaw, your throat and your collarbone.   

"Barely."  

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8 @captainchrisstan @hansmic @emilyywhyy @inlovewithstraykids @my-neurodivergent-world

[lostinlovingrevery]

Somnolent

Trilogy! Logan X F! Reader

A/N: I started writing this while half asleep last night so if there's some parts that seem odd. No there ain't...

Plot: Logan comes back home to you late at night...

Warnings: SMUT, 18+! MDNI, sleepy sex, unprotected PiV, creampie, light cockwarming at the end (watch out for UTIs), fingering, there's some fluff too!

Word Count: 2497

The mansion late at night was always a bit unsettling.

The halls usually filled with kids and teenagers, chatting, laughing, and running about, were empty and quiet. Lights throughout the school dimmed to a lower level, making the halls and most rooms shadowy and dark. It didn’t mean everyone was asleep, but for the most part, the school was tucked in.

Logan quietly stepped inside. He has come back from a solo mission, something to do with getting some info regarding a young mutant that has taken up cage fighting and using the advantage of their powers to win fights. 

Sounds eerily familiar. 

Except for the young part. 

Charles thought Logan would be perfect for the job, considering he had a “career” cage fighting even though Logan insisted that no, it wasn’t a career it was just a way to make some money. Nonetheless, considering Logan had agreed to stay at the mansion and help out after some…various incidents, he told Charles he’ll see what he can do. 

Kid was just some misled youth, believing he was some freak of society and ran away from home. Logan wasn’t really good at helping people through life crisis- considering he was in his own. Gave him some honest advice, and in the end kid ended up deciding to go back home to his parents. Job well done. He did invite him to join the school- purely because Charles told him to offer the invitation, but he declined. One thing at a time.

Hearing the sound of the tv playing, he peeked inside to see the same boy as usual - who claims he doesn’t sleep, watching tv, flipping channels with the blink of his eyes.

“TVs gonna rot your mind bub,” Logan mutters as he watches the channels flip through. 

“Nuh uh.” He mutters. 

“Couldn’t you just read a book?” 

“I read in the day.” He says. He blinks again, and an old cartoon is playing, which Logan recognizes to be ‘The Flintstones’. The boy settled deeper in the couch, seemingly satisfied by the channel he was watching. He scoffed, a grin coming across his face as he shook his head, turning back to go towards the stairs. The wooden steps creaked under his weight as he walked up the stairs. 

There was one thing that had been on his mind the entire time he was gone. The sweet little thing that has really become the sole reason he decided to stay- although he hasn’t told you that yet. 

He stopped at the door that belonged to your bedroom. Cracking it open silently as he peered inside, and he could make out your sleeping figure under the sheets. Stepping inside, he dropped his bag to the floor silently and closed the door behind him. He walked around the bed, his eyes not leaving you as he got closer. 

You were sleeping peacefully on your back, one arm resting across your stomach, the other, folded behind your head, which was turned to the side- facing him. Your hair was messy, your lips slightly parted and your breathing was slow and even. 

You looked beautiful, so peaceful. Different from your usual chaotic self when you are awake. Part of the reason why you grew on him so much. You knew how to push his buttons, but you also knew how to calm him down (Especially when Scott gets on his nerves). You’d been his grounding force since the first day he showed up. 

He leaned over her, his arm bracing himself above you, resting on the headboard as he took in your features. For a long while, he’d been lost in himself. No memories of who he was, or what had happened to him so many years ago that haunts him in his nightmares. Through a series of unfortunate events, he got to discover what happened to him- and you held his hand the entire time. 

Stirring, you slowly opened your eyes, blinking a few times at first being unsure of what you were looking at until Logan’s face came into view. You smiled sleepily, 

“Lo.” 

“Hey baby.” He greets coos. It was then how it occurred to him, how lucky he felt to be able to have you to come home too. Home?

“Mm..” You groaned, stretching your arms above your bed, arching your back in a big stretch. 

“Hm, someone's sleepy.” 

You nodded, closing your eyes with your arms folded behind your head. Logan's eyes lingered downwards, noticing the strappy nightie you were sporting. “What time is it?”

“Late.” He says, his hand coming down to gently pull the blanket from you, exposing the upper half of your body to him, and he felt himself getting hard. The nightie you were wearing, a cotton white, with lace along the hem of the collar, a sweetheart neckline that perfectly accented your breasts. The nightie you had on wasn’t particularly sexy, but Logan was pent up. He’s had to use his hand, getting himself off to the thought of you nearly every night since he’d been gone. 

“How was your trip?” You asked, your voice pitched higher due to your sleepy state, a small yawn escaping you. He looked down at you with half-lidded eyes, 

“Fine. I missed you.” He mutters, leaning down to bury his face in the crook of your neck. Sounds of your sleepy mirth made him smile, and he began to press kisses over your shoulder. 

“I missed you too.” 

“Course ya did.” he mutters, and your hand smacked his, eliciting a warm chuckle from him. His hand came up, fingers hooking under the strap of your nightie, sliding it down your shoulder, as he pressed kisses downwards towards your chest. “This is a cute lil thing you got on bub. New?”

“Bought it for you.” You hummed. He sat up, looking down at you with a grin, and you were looking up at him with a sleepy smile. 

“That so?”

You nodded slowly, closing your eyes again, struggling to stay awake. He felt his dick twitch, watching your dozy form attempt to stay awake for him. He chewed on his lip, before returning to press kisses over the top of your chest again. One of your hands came up to curl into his hair, encouraging him to keep going. His lips pressed in the space between your breasts. 

“Baby, can I show you how much I missed you?” He asks, his voice low- tittering into begging. He looked up, watching your reaction and you nodded. 

He excitedly stood up, shedding his jacket- dropping the leather to the ground, and kicking off his boots before his hands came to unbuckle his belt, and unzip his pants. He pushed your comforter off, and you spread your legs for him, as he eagerly climbs onto the bed between them. He didn’t even bother taking his clothes off, as his lips met yours. 

He kissed you languidly, as you attempted to return the effort, but being half asleep as you were- it was fairly messy. He chuckled against your lips, nipping at them gently. “Someone sure is tired.”

“Uh uh.” You shook your head, brows creasing angrily with a small pout- but your eyes, shut tiredly, fought against your denial.

“Don’t worry about it bub, just enjoy the ride, I’ll take care of you. Show you how much I missed ya.” He purrs, pressing soft kisses to your cheek and back down to your neck. He nipped and sucked at your neck, creating small purple bruises, as his hand trailed down your side, lifting the hem of your pretty nightie up and his fingers traced your inner thigh, before reaching your folds. “Hm, no panties. Dirty girl.” 

“Mm. I did that for you. In case you came back.” You mutter. 

“You spoil me doll.” He mutters, leaning to press open mouth kisses along your jawline, up to your chin, as his fingers began to circle your clit, gathering wetness on them, as he rubbed you and opened you up. You took a sharp breath, as you felt pleasure begin to envelope you. You brought your hands up to your pillow, softly gripping them as you bit your lip. His fingers traced down your folds, reaching to your hole, and he carefully slid one finger inside you. “So tight baby, gotta open up for me.” 

Your hips lifted involuntarily as he began working you open, stroking his finger in and out of you, curling it to hit that sweet spot inside of you that made you moan, and your grip on your pillows tighten. 

“Lo-” You whined, 

“Shh, I know.” He hushed, pressing a kiss to your pouty lips. He slid another finger inside, moving them inside and out in a thrusting motion, before scissoring them open inside you, stretching you open and you gasped. 

“Lo,” You moaned again tipping your head to the side. He grunted, pulling his fingers out and sitting up. He pushed his jeans down, his hard cock came out, popping against his stomach, with dribbles of pre-cum rolling down it. He took himself in his hand, lubing himself up with your arousal and his pre-cum together as he stroked himself. 

“Fuck, hadn’t stopped thinking about you all week baby.” He groaned. 

Your relationship, while still new - had been nothing but passion, and trust. You and Logan just seemed to get each other without having to say a word. Communication wasn’t Logans forte, never was as he began to realize as memories of his long life slowly come back to him. A random scent triggers back to something distant, his childhood home. A song that reminds him of his time in the 70’s, with a woman who led him to become like his now, long since dead and gone. A sound of a low flying plane, reminding him of the wars he’d been apart of. It was a lot- the mind can only remember so much. You always were patient with him though, talked him through everything. He’s addicted to you.

Climbing forward, he pushed your thighs wider,  and lifted the skirt of your nightie to your belly, exposing your lower half to him. He felt saliva filling his mouth, the urge to taste you crawling up his spine, but his cock throbbed painfully and he decided that eating you out like you were a rare delicacy was going to happen later. He leaned over you, an arm braced by your head, his free hand pressing the tip of his cock into your hole, slowly pushing inside- a loud hiss escaping him at how tight you felt. 

“Mm!” You moaned biting your lip, you turned your head to the other side. You were still half asleep, aware of what was happening, but your sleepy state made all the pleasure Logan was giving you 10 times more intense, as you drifted in and out of falling asleep and waking up again. Your body felt limp, Logan resting over you keeping you warm like a blanket. If you hadn’t been talking to him first- you would’ve thought this was a dream.  A very wet dream.

He continued moving deep inside until he bottomed out, and he buried his face into your neck, his arms moving to wrap around you and hold you while he fucked you. His pace was slow at first, pulling out almost to the tip, before pushing back in - molding space for his cock inside you.

Your arms lazily wrapped around his neck, one hand burying into his thick curls, as you bit your lip, small whines escaping you with each thrust. You felt incredibly relaxed, being surrounded by him- his voice cooing in your ears, his scent overwhelming your nose, his cock stretching you open so wonderfully. Hitting that spot his fingers were rubbing just moments ago. You brought your legs higher up, wrapping them around his waist- desperately wanting him to stay buried deep inside you as he thrusted slowly. Being around Logan felt nothing but safe, which was something you’d always yearned for. Safety in your life, due to living in a world that hated who you were. 

Harsh pants escaped Logan, his hot breath on your neck as he began to thrust faster, he wrapped his arms around your waist, your hands burying into his hair. 

“Goddamn baby- you feel so good. So fucking good.” He groaned. He was rutting into you, barely pulling out. “So damn wet and tight- you’re all for me aren’t ya?”

You whined, desperately nodding your head as he kept hitting that spot inside you over and over. Your nails dug into his scalp, pulled at his hair, making him moan- then pain of your nails scratching him spurring him on as he began to go faster, his hips slamming into your thighs, lewd wet noises filling the room. 

“Logan-” You whined tipping your head back onto your pillow. He grunted, pressing his forehead into your shoulder. 

“Fuck.” He hissed. “Cmon baby, cum for me. I need you to cum- please-” He whined. Your legs were trembling, his deep thrusts leaving your body to start going numb. “You’re all mine, you know that? All fucking mine-” 

The tight thread pooling in your lower tummy snapped, as waves of pleasure shook your body, wetness splashing onto him, effectively soaking the both of you. You whined his name, arching your back towards him, and he bit down on your neck, thrusting inside you once more, before he let out a loud- very loud, cry of pleasure, panting as he came deep inside you, his warm cum painting your walls, so much of it that it begins to spill out of your hole, still stuffed with him. 

He collapsed against you, his cheek pressed against your chest, a small bit of drool escaping him as he recovered from the waves of euphoria that was still crashing through him. You body went limp, legs unwrapping from his waist, hands falling to either side of your head. 

“Fuck.” He hissed. “See what you do to me bub?” He slowly pushes himself up. Leaning forward to press his lips over yours. You hummed in response. He brushed some hair out of your face, pressing another kiss to your lips. “Lets get some sleep.” He mutters and you nodded. 

He started to pull out of you, but you whined. “Stay in.” You say. He chuckled. 

“You sure?” 

“Mm.” 

“Alright.” He wrapped his arm over your waist, turning to his back and bringing you with him, lying on his chest. “Comfortable?”

“Mm.” You nodded, now more sleepy than ever in your post-coitus haze. He pulled the comforter over the both of you, his hand softly scratching up and down your back, his other hand resting on your hip. Your cheek pressed to his chest. “Lo?” You mumbled. 

“Yeah?”

“You’re mine too, right?” You asks, you were drifting off to sleep, your voice barely a whisper, but he understood you.  

He smiled. “Yeah sweetheart. I’m all yours.” 

[dollyfiles]

rafe cameron knows that it isn’t just LUST he feels for you

cw: mutual attraction, forbidden love, emotional betrayal, angst, inspired by the song “lust” by chase atlantic.. & for my sweet girl @vampteeths <33

the humid night air clung to like rafe a second skin as he leaned against the porch railing of tannyhill, eyes fixed on the distant shoreline. the party inside was roaring—a mix of drunken laughter, loud music, and the occasional sound of bottles clinking. his friends were there, drowning in excess, but rafe had slipped outside a while ago, needing to breathe.

the drugs numbed him most nights, but tonight, he felt restless. there was something clawing at his chest, something he couldn’t ignore. and then, as if the universe wanted to punish him, the person who haunted his thoughts, stepped outside.

you. he didn’t even have to turn to know who it was. he could always feel you before he saw you.

he had no idea when it started—this pull you had on him. maybe it was the night topper introduced you to the group, laughing and draping his arm over your shoulders like you were just another accessory. at first, rafe thought you were like every other girl that hung around—beautiful, fun, disposable.

but then you smiled at him, said his name like it mattered, like he mattered. and something inside him cracked. it wasn’t like the rush he got from a pill dissolving on his tongue or the high of a line burning through his veins. it was different. he didn’t crave you in a way he did with other girls. you were different. he just liked you.

and that terrified him.

“rafe,” you said softly, your voice cutting through the thick night air.

he didn’t dare to look at you right away. he couldn’t. he was afraid of what might show on his face if he did. instead, he focused on the waves crashing in the distance. “shouldn’t you be inside with top?” he asked, his tone carefully detached, though the words felt like poison in his mouth.

you shrugged, wrapping your arms around yourself against the cool breeze. “just don’t feel like it.”

finally, he looked at you. your eyes met his, and for a moment, the rest of the world faded away. it always did when you looked at him like that, like you could see all the dark corners of his soul and weren’t afraid of them.

you were wearing one of those simple dresses you always seemed to favor, the kind that made you look effortlessly put together. your hair was loose, framing your face, and in the dim light of the porch, you looked almost ethereal.

“you’ve been quiet lately,” you said. your voice was gentle, but there was a weight to your words, like you knew he’d been spiraling. you stepped closer, and rafe’s entire body tensed. he wanted to tell you to stop, to go back inside, to leave him alone. but he didn’t. he never could with you.

rafe laughed, a bitter sound echoing across the porch. “quite’s not really my thing, is it?”

“not really.” you tilted your head, studying him in that way you always did, like you could see right through him. it daunted him, but it also made him feel seen in a way he never had before. “you don’t have to pretend with me, you know.”

he hated how much your words got to him. hated how much he wanted to believe them. “why are you here, y/n?” he asked, his voice low.

you hesitated, both of you knew it was risky. you knew it every time you caught each others gaze from across the room, every time your conversations stretched too long, your moments together lingering on the edge of something dangerous.

but then you stepped closer, so close that he could smell the faint hint of your sweet perfume. “i don’t know,” you admitted. “but i couldn’t stay in there. not with him. not tonight.”

your words hung in the air between the two of you, heavy with implication. rafe’s heart was pounding now, a hectic rhythm that matched the chaos in his head.

“this is wrong,” he said, but even as he said it, he didn’t move away. “i know,” you whispered, gaze dropping to the ground, and for a moment, you looked so vulnerable that it made his chest ache.

rafe ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling just underneath the surface. “i’m not… i’m not good at this. at feeling things. at caring.”

you tilted your head, gaze soft but steady. “you care more than you let on, rafe. you just don’t want to admit it.”

your words settled over him like a weight, and for once, he didn’t push them away. because you were right. he did care. he cared too much, and it scared the hell out of him.

“do you know how messed up this is?” he said, his voice raw. “you’re with topper. he’s my friend. and you’re… you’re you.”

“and what’s that supposed to mean?” you asked.

“it means i shouldn’t feel this way,” he sighed, his voice breaking. “i shouldn’t look at you and feel like you’re the only thing keeping me from falling apart.”

you bit your lip, just standing there in silence while rafe watched you. he wanted you to say it, to acknowledge what you were both pretending wasn't happening. rafe wanted to reach for you, to pull you close and tell you that none of it mattered, that he’d walk away from everything if it meant he could keep this—keep you. but he couldn’t. because no matter how badly he wanted you, he knew he wasn’t allowed to have you.

“i don’t get it,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “why are you even here? why me?”

you inched forward, so much he could see the faint freckles on your skin, the curve of your lips. “because i see you, rafe,” you said simply. “and i think you’re worth seeing.”

something inside him shattered then. he’d spent so long chasing highs, trying to fill the void with pills and powders and girls who didn’t mean anything. but you didn’t have to do anything. just being near you was enough.

“I don’t even need… I mean, I don’t—” he stumbled over his words, unsure how to explain what he felt. your eyes softened, and for a moment, you looked like you might cry. but you didn’t. instead, you reached out, your hand brushing against his cheek. it was the smallest touch, but it sent a shockwave through him.

rafe closed his eyes, simmering in your touch for a little while before softly grabbing your fragile wrist and putting it back, right next to your body. “you should go back inside,” he said finally, forcing the words out even though they felt like poison on his tongue.

you looked up at him, eyes shimmering with something he couldn’t quite name. for a moment, he thought you might argue, might tell him that you didn’t care about topper or the rules or how wrong it all was. but instead, you nodded.

“goodnight, rafe,” you said softly, your voice laced with a sadness that mirrored his own.

he watched you go, your figure disappearing into the glow of the party. and for the first time in a long time, rafe felt something other than numbness. it wasn’t comfort, exactly—it was too complicated, too messy for that—but it was something.

and as he stood there alone, staring out at the waves, he realized that you had become his new addiction. a dangerous one, maybe even more dangerous than the drugs. but unlike the pills and the powders, you made him feel alive.

tags: @vampteeths @rafesheaven @rafeysbangs @rafesbowbunny @rafesweetie @whinyangel @plaidcowboy @filthyrafe @figthoughts @littlelamy @fawnhart @rafesdollette @starzify @rafesangelita @cherrygirlfriend @ch6rm @inspiredangel @girlyrafe @rafespreciosa @gibson-g1rl @kissyrafe

[poisonousspiderlily]

sacred king's success was growing visibly. you had been a fan since the day they performed in a random bar in tokyo with only ten people watching. even if no one was there to see them, they still put on a performance that proved they owned the stage. it was impossible to take your eyes off them.

especially the emo, shy drummer.

the moment you saw choso kamo, you knew you wanted him. even among the ten people in that bar during their first performance, you could feel his nervousness. at first glance, one might think he wouldn't fit in with the band, but the moment they started playing, he forgot all his shyness and lost himself in the drums.

nothing was more delicious than watching him bite his lower lip while attacking the toms with quick, hard strikes, his tattoos standing out even more as he moved.

you had to meet him.

after their performance, when you saw them drinking at the bar, you approached with excitement and greeted him. choso turned bright red with embarrassment, and when he reached out to shake your hand, he accidentally spilled his beer. you were dying over how adorable and shy he was. he was the sexiest and sweetest man you had ever met. that night ended with you hanging out with the band, joining their conversation, and getting choso’s number.

even though you had his number, your conversations never went beyond discussing their next concert location. you felt disappointed, thinking he wasn’t interested in you, but at least you had made a sweet friend. besides, when they became a world-famous death metal band, you could brag about knowing them personally. after all, you didn’t need to have something going on with choso.

or maybe you did, because right now, in the empty backstage dressing room, he was eating your pussy like a man starved.

you couldn’t believe this man was a virgin. he might have been shy, but you had assumed he had fucked dozens of girls. yet choso had never gone further than kissing before.

but fuck, he was so good at this…

his tongue moved as if he didn’t know what he was doing. he licked your soaked lips, and when you told him you wanted more, he took them into his mouth, sucking hard while occasionally using his teeth before letting go. then he dove right back in, licking with desperate enthusiasm.

“fuck, c-choso, slow down,” you whimpered, unable to handle his pace.

he pulled back, panting against your folds, his eyes dark with lust. “i-i can’t. this is too good. i want my mouth to stay here forever.” he licked up from the bottom to the top, then slipped his tongue inside you, thrusting it in and out.

“you-nghh… you’re not supposed to be this good. it’s not f-fair,” you gasped. it really wasn’t. you had fucked plenty of experienced people, but none of them had eaten you out the way choso was right now. his movements were messy and uncoordinated, but you never imagined that would make it even better.

as he tongue-fucked you, his nose rubbed against your clit. he hadn’t even licked it yet, but every brush of his nose against it made your thighs and pussy clench.

choso latched onto your soaked cunt, taking your swollen lips between his own and sucking hard, his tongue flicking against them before he pulled away with a desperate moan. his fingers slid through the mess he had made, gathering every drop of your arousal before teasing your entrance—only to bring his slick-coated fingers to his lips, sucking them clean with a low, needy groan.

when he spread your folds a little to expose your swollen clit, his eyes widened. “oh, i forgot about this part, baby. can i lick it? please? i want to make you come with everything i have.”

with his gaze locked on you like a pussy drunk, there was no way you could refuse him. you needed to come so badly. you whimpered, “please,” and choso moaned, lowering his mouth toward your clit—but the door slammed open with a loud bang. choso yanked himself away from between your legs, pressing his body over yours like a shield to keep you from being seen.

sacred king’s lead singer—and possibly the most insufferable man you had ever met—sukuna, raised a brow as he stared at the scene in confusion. his lips curled into a smirk. “came to tell you we’re going for drinks, but looks like you’ve already started.”

your face burned with embarrassment.

choso, trembling with frustration, snapped at sukuna to get out. the vocalist just laughed, shutting the door behind him as he called out to the others, “hey, our virgin emo is eating his first pussy!”

you wanted to be mad at sukuna for ruining the moment, but you couldn’t stop laughing at his words. choso groaned in mortification, hiding his face against your chest, pressing kisses to the hickeys he had just left there. “i didn’t get to taste your clit…” he mumbled miserably.

your laughter only grew louder.

virgin drummer!choso was officially a pussy addict now.

all rights belong to @/poisonousspiderlily. do not steal, modify, or translate

[goaskangel]

making a movie with shiu + toji !! part one

cw : pure smut, toji n shiu being total pervs, recording, slapping, extremely gross

you couldn’t understand what they had in common. they got along so well but you still find it hard to believe that shiu kong and toji fushiguro would hang out with each other on purpose. let alone work together as managers. shiu being so work focused and smooth. toji being aggressive and competitive, but they were both cocky. constantly cackling at their inside jokes and whistling at the women passing by on their matching breaks, it’s surprising they actually got work done. 

absolutely no shame behind their sly eyes when they flirt with you, the woman they hired. after befriending you, the small line they, unusually, didn’t cross was practically nonexistent. toji would twirl your hair mid conversation at the front, empty counter at work. shiu casually sliiiiding behind you at the tight space in the staff-only back, hands on hips. 

treating you so so nice by driving you around, giving you the extra bonus just ‘cause, taking you out for drinks. they like that especially, seeing you get super bubbly. soo dizzy, you most definitely won’t notice the bulge in shiu’s pants, or how toji has to readjust himself through his sweats.

so when you find yourself in bed, massaging your dull cunt with your vibe, unable to get anywhere near close, you scroll through your phone, getting bored of whichever social you were on but jumping slightly when your phone vibrates. 

the screen delays by a few before you read ‘mr. manager #2.’

mmm, toji. 

you sit up and answer the call, “hi, what’s up?”

“hey, sweets. me and kong thought we should stop by.”

huh? stop by? “why? did i leave something in his car again?”

it sounds like he laughs away from his phone, “no, no. not again. was wonderin’ if you wanted to do the thing you always wanted.”

the hell is he talking about? “what thing?” 

“about making a movie.” 

right, okay. “...when did i say that?” you held your phone with both hands.

“aw, she doesn’t remember. at the bar. told me and kong you’ve always wanted to.”

there’s no way, you think to yourself. no way you could’ve gotten so drunk that you can’t remember what you said to your managers. what else could you have told them?

“you there, honey?” 

“yeah, yeah.” you get up, pushing your things in the bedside drawer and hastily pulling your shorts up. 

“mhm, right then. we’re pulling up. don’t fall asleep on us now.” he says bye, followed by the sound of a car drifting. you stare at the screen for a while, walking to the front near the door. it hit you, toji and shiu are coming over to your place to make a movie. straight up admitting to wanting to record fucking their employee. 

the doorknob rattles before being properly knocked on, how long had you been standing and day-dreaming for? you walk to the door and open it.

greeted with dressed down, casual men. toji slightly taller, more buff considering he was wearing a very nice tank and his beefy arms were out. shiu dressed a little more appropriately, but still incredibly good looking. a big black camera in his right hand. you’re too distracted to notice it first until it snaps a picture right at your face,

“pretty, pretty. we’ll see how ya look after we’re done with you, huh, doll?” 

“you know i don’t even remember saying anything.”

“lemme remind you then,” toji says, walking past you inside to the living room, shiu following. you sigh at their intrusion before closing and locking the door behind you. 

“hmmm, ya mentioned it a few times. ‘i’ve fantasized about being recorded with two guys on me.’ ain’t that oddly specific?” he chuckles at his own mockery of a drunken-you.

“people say a lot of crap while they’re drunk.”

“yeah, but you still let us in.”

“yeah, what’s it gonna be, doll?” shiu squints as he adjusts the camera’s focus and zoom before cleaning the lens with his shirt, lifting it and revealing his toned body. pudge to his stomach, a trail of black hair down his middle. you gulp as you shift in your now seat on the couch, toji towering over you. his big hands resting on his slim waist. god, this really does feel like a porno. the desperate high you’ve been trying to reach finally throbs behind your panties. “make you feel real good. satisfy all those needs you told us about.” he steps closer, twirling the hair out of your face, gently stroking his big fingertips on your jaw. he notices the slightly confused look through your dazed expression.

“like havin’ two cocks in your mouth,” he squeezes your cheeks with three fingers, making you pout, “getting pushed around. hold you down. a little spanking.” a smile tugs at your lip.

“yeah? ya like that sound of that?” he teasingly slaps your face gently. 

“mm, mhm.” so pathetic, you think to yourself. you are most definitely not watching this back. that is if they even give you the tape, sickos might just keep it for themselves. 

“yeah, toj’, slap her ‘round some more.” a black lens focuses on you as toji holds your face in his hands, giving you a few practice taps before slapping you with a hefty hand. you whine at the impact and squeeze your eyes shut as he lands another. 

“open y’er eyes, pretty thing. keep ‘em on me.” his strong fingers going down to grip your throat. your hesitant eyes open to find a sly, sly grin on his scarred lip. his dazed eyes holding malicious intent. “you like the contact, i know you do.” petting the hair out of your face, dragging his palms down to your shoulders, then torso. he lifts you up just to push you down to your knees, still petting you as you’re met with his bulge in your face.

“go ahead, girl. take toji’s cock out.”

a/n...HIIIII PART TWO COMING SOON I HOPE U ENJOYED!!!! read my other stuff while i pull pt 2 out of my ass xoxo!

masterlist

[namjooningera]

Yandere JJK! With accepting/yandere reader

Characters: Gojo, Nanami, Toji

AN: god I love these sm. I love when the reader is just insane as the characters but I literally never seen these written 😭 if y’all see stuff like this pls tag me 🤺 anyway sorry for the long wait. Also lmk if you want pt2 with Geto, Sukuna, and Choso.

TW: kil*ing, stalking, yandere acts (duh), kidnapped/kidnapping, drugging, slight sexual themes

Gojo:

You met the strongest person on the planet, the most powerful, the Satoru Gojo.

Good looking, smart, funny, powerful. The whole package! And he acknowledged you.

You normally kept to yourself, introverted and alone. It was mostly due to shame. You were born with a cursed power, and became a sorcerer. An average, bottom of the food chain sorcerer. A third grade. You almost made it to second grade- key word: almost. You decided you’d rather just be the principals assistant at jujutsu high, and a backup sorcerer for emergencies. Dragging yourself along doing stupid tasks by the principle Yagas orders, somewhat interacting with other students and teachers, overall achieving nothing.

You were rather ashamed of your abilities. You always knew you had somewhat potential, you could definitely climb the ranks, but you were exhausted. Fighting day and night, your mental health deteriorating- you had no motivation.

Your life was basically empty. No goals, no motivation, a life barely worth living.

Until you met him.

The strongest. You hadn’t realized it until you were called for backup. Some fight the first years got caught up with by accident, with dangerous curses above their grades. You fought them off until you felt an energy breeze into your skin, your skull, in your blood. His energy. His domain.

You were caught in his domain, your body frozen as you felt his aura in your blood, and your body filled with adrenaline.

Ever since you were born you felt something was missing. You felt empty. Like a puzzle missing its most important piece, you were alone in the world and isolated, even while you were surrounded by others.

But the feeling you felt? While his domain surrounded you and caressed you and you felt his energy in your lungs, your eyes, your brain filled with him him him. You knew who was going to give you that last puzzle peice, the person who is that last puzzle piece, the piece to make you feel whole, to make you happy, to make you full.

You hadn’t realized his domain had let go, you were back on your feet, and the threat was gone. You snapped out of it (barely) to check on the students.

You felt it. That motivation you’ve never felt before. You know now what your goal is, to fly up the ranks, to grab his attention, to bring back that feeling and keep it in your grasp, to have the will to live again.

What you didn’t know, was he felt it too.

He felt your cute little heartbeat in his domain.

He felt your energy, an energy that felt… different. There was something different about you.

He breathed in your breathes, he felt your touch, he accepted your gaze, he wanted more. The thought of gently opening your belly to suffocate himself in your small ribs, to hide himself like a cocoon in your small body to be hidden from the world as the “strongest.”

Satoru gojo, was, intrigued.

A feeling he was unfamiliar with.

He was a clingy man for sure- you knew that as he whined at your side for attention as you talked to Shoko. You couldn’t believe one of the strongest and a teacher at this school was acting so.. blunt.

But even as he continued to act clingy, you couldn’t help but notice he acted that way towards everyone. Of course what you didn’t notice was a different glint in his eye with the way he looked at you then others.

Even with his clinginess, you felt the way he was also detached. You wanted to open his brain, pick apart the pieces and understand why he acted the way he does, why he’s so close but so far, does he even like you?

This went on for several weeks- his clinginess towards you, and yet you felt his distance. You couldn’t stalk him well, knowing with his power he’d most definitely catch you immediately. You instead took a more relaxed approach, something subtle and less.. noticeable.

You were able to get info about him from the other teachers, it wasn’t that hard. Plus, most of the time he yapped it out himself.

You were quite smart with your tactics, subtly using the info about him for your own good. Oh, you just happened to buy kikufuku and just happened to have extra for him. Oh you just happened to wear his favorite colors and put your hair up the way he likes it.

It’s just a coincidence!

You got quite tired though, not seeing any changes. With all the info you put to work and trying to be a better sorcerer while still having assistant duties- you were exhausted.

And then you noticed small trinkets in your home starting to disappear. It wasn’t much; things disappearing as simple as a simple piece of jewelry, a lounging shirt, chapstick, etc…

And of course you didn’t think much of it, you probably misplaced it somewhere anyway.

And then you found a little white hair on your pillow.

“Yeah it’s just down the hall from here.”

You somehow convinced Gojo Satoru to come over to your home (it was incredibly easy), and you led him inside your apartment. He was as excited as always, picking at things, making comments, being his overall cheery happy self.

“Tea?”

“Oh yeah sure.” He answered, following you into the kitchen.

“Grab the tea packets for me?” You’re putting the kettle on the stove, heating up the water. Gojo skips to one of the higher cabinets, opening it and grabbing Jasmine tea packets.

“Hm that’s weird.” You giggle.

“Hm?” He smiled back at you.

“You knew exactly where the tea packets are.”

“…” However he just played it off with nervous laughter and using the excuse that ‘your home is just so organized of course the tea is in this cabinet’ and you just smile sinisterly because you know he’s lying and you know he doesn’t know that you know.

It funny to catch him off guard like that, where he almost trips in himself because you catch something he does, something that could expose him.

You make the tea however as he yaps off about his day, and all you could think about was I can’t let him get away. The more you felt his distance even as his physical body clung to you, the more you felt the motivation he gave you start to drain away.

“So what was the big news you wanted me to come over for?” He giggled, kicking his feet as he sat at the kitchen island with his tea you prepared for him.

“Well… I’m a second grade now!” You squealed, finally accomplishing something you felt worth mentioning.

And of course Gojo is proud of you, why wouldn’t he be?

“That’s amazing sweet cheeks I know you could!” His god awful pet names for you- but you know he’s proud. He stands up to try and give you a hug or pat your head since you stand on the opposite side of the kitchen island but- what the?

His feet are wobbly, and his vision almost instantly goes black the second he gets up, the room spinning as darkness started to consume him.

“I know! Isn’t it just so great? I’ve been working really hard Gojo-sama.” You smile, skipping to him as he starts to fade away. ���And it’s all ‘cause of you. I should be thanking you.”

His body finds its way unconscious in your arms, “I can’t thank you enough” you embrace him tednerly, sighing as his entire body rests in your hold, your eyes glancing over at his half drunk laced cup of tea.

It’s weird- he’s never felt this weak.

His body is tied, he’s bound and gagged. As his vision started to clear, he noticed he was in what looked like a basement, a very dimly lit and dull basement. As he started to struggle against his restraints, the tighter it got. He noticed the cursed tags on them, hundreds even. He could break through them, he just needed a bit of time to gather some strength, he was still dizzy after all.

However a familiar figure emerged from the darker parts of the basement, where his sweet beloved crush stood in front of him. His heart raced as he recognized you, in all your gorgeous glory.

“You’re awake, good.” You sigh, lips that curve into that sweet familiar smile he’s loved ever since he first acknowledged you.

“Y/n.” Gojo whispers, his voice muffled by the cloth gagging him, his mind boggled at the idea the sweet innocent weak you could pull something off like this.

“I know this isn’t ideal, Gojo. I’m aware, but I just couldn’t help it. You saved me.” And how come he just noticed the way your eyes glare into hearts, a smile so sinister and cute he couldn’t help but melt.

“Saved?” Drool covering the gagged cloth, trying not to whine against the gag.

“Yes, saved. It’s all you. You know they’ve been talking about making me a teacher? A teacher. I won’t just be.. a nobody.”

And you don’t notice the way his eyes droop onto your face, eyeing your body up and down and dragging his gaze back up to your face. A pink blush covering his cheeks and extra drool leaving his mouth.. even an extra body component that was.. throbbing.

He muffled something against the cloth, whining almost. You rip the gag out his mouth.

“You were never a nobody.” He gasps out.

You sigh. “Always so supportive. I hope you can continue being supportive while your stuck down here. Don’t worry, it’ll only be for a while..” which is a lie, your sure you want to keep him down here for as long as possible. You know it’ll be difficult, having to use your own cursed energy and heavy tags to keep him down and submissive to you, but it’s worth it.

“Y/n.”

“You don’t have to hide anymore- were the same gojo. I know your secrets, I know how you feel about me. You’re stuck with me.”

His eyes are wide and scary now, a gaze your sure will haunt you. You turn your eyes away from him, deciding it would be better to give him some time to settle, to let him relax. But as soon as you turn your body, you hear a loud rip, and your body is slammed onto the floor.

However you realize you aren’t in pain, which is abnormal, until you see he had his infinity around your body to make sure it wasn’t hurt in the way he slammed you down.

Your chest squished against the floor, body firmly planted as Gojos body held you down tightly, his lips pressed closely into the side of your face as he breathed heavily.

“Sweet cheeks- this? All for me?” His lips were in a wide grin, eyes crescents and crazy.

You whine in his grip, trying to struggle out of it. Shit. Your supposed to have the power in this situation not him. He’ll run away now- he thinks your crazy, he’s gonna hurt you, he hates you-

“I’m not stuck with you- you’re stuck with me.” He sighs lustfully against your lips, his hand gripping your jaw into your face, the other holding your smaller body down.

“Your perfect f’me” and his lips finally press against yours, a sweet harmony in crazy.

Nanami:

You’ve always been fond of the house wife ways. You’d watch those mothers with loving husbands walk past you, a little child in their cradle and they giggle and hold each others hands. You know it’s not all giddy and fun and games, a family is a huge deal. A huge deal you’ve never been able to have.

A loving and accepting family? Unconditional love? Yes, you’ve never had that. And you think at this point, you probably never will.

You’re a jujutsu sorcerer. You don’t have time to start a family or even meet a man. But god do you crave it. That domesticity, that life of love and safety. You think this as you kill curses and watch the stinky blood ooze out their green skin, it’s bodies littering the floor.

You’re sick of it. Sick of being a sorcerer. You used to love this. It gave you a thrill to kill curses and save humans, you felt like a hero. But then was when you were a teenager. When you were free and happy. But things change and now you would just like to settle. Settle down, enough work and fighting. You’d like to enjoy your life, being thrown into battle as soon as you hit the ripe age of fifteen.

But alas, as you come back to jujutsu high, nodding at the sorcerers who brush past you. You smell disgusting, the blood and guck had seeped into your clothes and dampened your skin. You feel gross and just need a shower.

But your stoped by a certain teacher and sorcerer, a very annoying man that you grew up with.

“Hey! Y/n!” It’s Gojo, in your face. “You smell gross, you finished them off though right?”

“Obviously.” You roll your eyes.

You really have lost the glint in your eyes. That special excitement after you kill a curse, the way you’d brag and jump around after saving people. You don’t really care anymore. It’s a repeat everyday. Just with new curses and different people to save. Yet the same scenario and same situation. And you’re sick. Sick of all of it.

“Anyways, Nanami wanted to talk to you~ hmm let me guess, maybe he finally grew the balls to ask you out?” She smirks at you, glasses down at his nose as he teases you.

You jab him in the rib with your elbow as you walk past him. “Whatever just tell me where he is.”

You’ve always had quite a thing for Nanami. Perhaps he was the reason your craving for such a domestic life. The way he held himself up, responsible and serious. You just knew he’d be an amazing husband. You’ve seen the way he takes care of other people, ever since high school, and you watch as he takes care of his student now.

You sometimes wonder if he’d be a good father. You definitely think he would be. He’s a sweet man and he’s always been. You’ve never seen him raise his voice (except towards Gojo, but that’s normal), he’s always caring and it touches you everytime.

But you know he’s never going to be yours. Your on and off crush on him, you brush it off as just looking up to him. He’s smart, muscular, responsible and very handsome. What’s not to look up to?

But sometimes the love sickness bubbles up in your throat. As you watch him be himself. That one time you had to go on a mission with him, where the children were the victims, and after, he had taken his time to take care of the kids and check up on them one by one. They weren’t hurt, just scared, but he made sure to reassure them check them for wounds. Your heart swelled at that, especially when he came to check on you, too.

Sometimes he makes you angry however. Whenever you see some sorcerer or office worker throw themselves at him, and he doesn’t even notice. Their slutty ways in trying to get his attention, caressing his back with their ugly done nails, whispering things you can’t hear into his ear.

Every time he brushes them off.

And your happy, but then you feel dejected, because you remember doesn’t want a relationship. He’s said it before, you overheard. He does dream of being married and having children, but being a sorcerer would take up too much time and he couldn’t.

So why did he become an office worker and still brush everyone off?

Your short heels click against the floor as you walk the floorboards. Getting to where Gojo told you to meet Nanami.

You bite your lip at the hurt in your leg as you walk. A few weeks ago, you had a terrible accident on a mission. A curse caught you off guard, (you didn’t tell anyone it was because you were in your feels, deep in thought) but you got insanely hurt.

Ribs bruised, ankle shattered, cervical spinal cord bruised. You’re insanely lucky for Shoko, and her ability to heal you. However you can still feel the after shocks of it, your body tired after being forced to heal after such heart quenching injuries.

You smile though, remembering the heart break look in Nanami’s eyes. You don’t mean to feel happiness from his pain of seeing his close friend injured so terribly, but god was it satisfying to see how much he cared.

“Kento?” You open the door to the empty teachers lounge where he was apparently supposed to be.

“How was your mission, y/n?” He’s sitting on the sofa of the lounge, dipping a tea packet into a cup of hot water.

“Oh fine. Got it done, I guess.” You sit on the table in front of him, stretching and yawning. “So what’s up?”

God you remember the adorable way his brows clenched and eyes widened in pain as he looked down at you on Shoko’s gurney. The way he cared so much. I need to make him mine. You thought, but maybe that was the delusion talking. The blood that seeped from your head and body. But he held your hand the entire night. Whispered reassuring words of love into your ears and even kissed your hand and forehead when he thought you were sleeping.

That wasn’t delusion right? He did that. He cares for you. More than he’s shown care for the others. But alas, you know the perfected blonde headed man is too busy for a relationship, plus you don’t even think he’d want you like that.

“I was told by Shoko to check up on you.” He hands you a coffee. You smile as you take it, knowing he always knows exactly how to make your coffee just right.

“What? Why did she send you? Why didn’t she ask for me, herself.”

He shrugs. “You know how she is.”

You laugh at that, and nod, taking a sip of your coffee. “Oh thanks Ken, I needed this.” You sip some more. And he eyes you, watching you drink the coffee he made specially for you.

“You as a matter of a fact.. I am feeling quite.. drowsy.” For some reason, a sort of fog hits your brain. You believe it to be from fighting those curses. But it wasn’t that bad, so why do you feel so tired all of a sudden?

“That’s okay. Just let it happen.”

What? You look up at your close friend, the blonde man, eyeing him weirdly. “Ken? Kento I think you should call Shoko.”

“No need,” he catches you as you stumble off from sitting on the table, his arms engulfing your smaller figure. “I can take care of you just fine.”

You blush at that, but can’t focus on his sweet words because your body has just gone limp in his arms, and your barely conscious. The coffee slips out your hand and falls to the floor, the plastic seal breaking and making the contents of the cup spill onto the ground.

He sighs at that, but puts his hands under your arms and picks you up, one hand under your bottom and the other around your back, making you lean all of you onto him.

“Ken…”

“Shh, my dear. It’ll all feel better soon. I’m here.”

You wake up in a familiar room. Not too familiar, but you know it to be the guest bedroom in Nanami’s home. But then you notice yourself wearing one of his white button ups, with nothing else on except the same pair of panties you were wearing when you passed out. Your hair is down and cascading your shoulders, your body is limp and tired.

“Sweetheart? Oh you’re up.” Nanamis head pops into the room from the bedroom door.

You try to get up and greet him but you find your weak body is tied by a chain to the bedpost of the bed. A chain that is made of pure curse power, making it so you stay put and unable to use your cursed energy to break it.

“Ken?” You whine, reaching out to him.

He looks so domestic. His shirt is off, (which you realize, is the one your wearing), he’s in sweatpants and his hair is down, not gelled back.

“Good morning.” He sits next to you on the bed, and it makes you aware that you can’t use any of your power. “Sleep well?”

It almost makes you cry. This kind of domesticity, is what you wanted. A loving and very handsome husband, doting on his lovely wife, something as simple as greeting you in the morning makes your heart pop.

“F-fine. What is this? Why am I here, Kento?”

He frowned, looking at down before looking back at you. “I.. have made some arrangements.”

“Arrangements?”

“Yes. Y/n. You are to stay with me and live here. As my partner of course. It’s all for your own safety. Of course I’ll make sure your provided with and supported every step along the way. All the things you need are here, including me.”

He gulps in the way you stare at him wide eyed. His hands are shaking and his voice is trembling. It’s obvious that he wants your validation, that he knows you’ll hate him that your scared-

But you’re not. You pinch yourself. This has to be a dream. It doesn’t matter that your tied to the bed post, that you’ve been taken here against your will, that you definitely think he must’ve put something your coffee to make you all drowsy- he wants you. He needs you. He’s basically begging with his eyes for you to forgive and accept him.

“As your.. partner?” You gulp. You hope, you beg, in your mind, that he means what you think he means. Please. You beg in your head.

“My.. my lover. My girlfriend, and hopefully future wife.”

Your jaw is basically to the floor, your eyes wide as you stare at the man who bunches his eyebrows and squints his eyes, biting his lips in pure nervousness.

He’s adorable. Absolutely adorable. You think.

You reveled in the way he felt so incredibly intense for you that he just had to take you. That instead of any other way he needed you so bad he just stole you away. He doesn’t just want you, he needs you. You shiver looking at your cuffed ankle, there’s no escape for you. Even if you tried. That’s how much he needs you. That even against your will, he’ll have you. Your thighs rub together and you can feel a certain piece of fabric under you dampen. A redness makes its way onto your cheeks and a hazy feeling on pure lust clouds your brain.

Before he can react, you pounce on him. He’s under you, your hands on his shoulders as you hold him down. He gasps, afraid you were going to attack him. He just knew this would happen- he knew you’d be angry- that you’d hate him with all and every bone in your body- wait what?

If you hate him so much, why are you squishing his cheeks and coeing at him?

“Aww Ken I’ve never seen you this nervous before you’re so adorable.”

Wait what? He just stares up at you, wide eyed. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah. All twitchy and scared as if I was gonna yell at you. Ken I’ve never seen you like that!” You giggle, and he just stares up at you.

“I’ve hurt people for you. I’ve.. I’ve been close to killing them just because they’ve laid eyes on you-“

It’s like he’s trying to show how cruel he is, how he’s a bad man. But you just laugh.

“Aww Ken I didn’t know you had a jealous side!”

He just furrows his brows. “I kidnapped you, my dear y/n.”

“You sure did, it’s kind of an upgrade from my apartment though.”

“Y/n I-“ “Stop Ken.” It’s obvious what he’s doing, he doesn’t believe you to be okay with his messy obsessive love.

“How many kids do you want Ken? You want a big wedding, right? Black or white choir- or are we gonna have a DJ? Oh my god can I get a pet-“

“Y/N.”

You freeze, getting of him and sitting down on the bed, crossing your legs, a pout on your lips from being interrupted.

“You.. you.. your okay with this? This arrangement?”

“You drugging me, kidnapping me, then tying me up to a bedpost? All so I can be yours? Yeah I guess so.”

“.. You’re serious?”

“Kento..” You whine, watching him sit up. “I’ve always liked you, silly. I don’t mind your weird little quirks.”

His eyes soften, his gaze almost bleeding through your face. You all of a sudden feel hot and heavy.

“What, Ken?”

“You accept me? For everything I am?”

You nod eagerly. “I can stay home and be your lil’ house wife Ken~”

Blush spreads through his cheeks, he coughs, rubbing his face awkwardly, as if he was some shy school boy, aroused.

“I’ll take as many kids as you give me, a wedding with only close friends and family, black choir, and yes, you may have a pet.” He answers all your questions from before.

Your eyes widen and you squeal, but that’s quickly caught off by Nanami throwing you up in the air, the cursed chain breaking from his consent, as he catches you back in his arms and spins you around, laughing and smothering the sides of your face with kisses. You wrap your legs around his waist and kiss his cheek.

“This.. this calls for a celebration.” He slyly smirks at you, looking up at you cradled in his arms, wearing his button up. You know what he means, and you don’t fight against it.

“Ken.. so about having those kids..” You giggle, your feet unwrapping around his waist so they can push his pants down.

Toji-

You’ve been a maid at several different locations, your resume is quite lengthy. You needed a side job while you attended nursing school, after all those tuitions are a bitch. One of the first places you worked was in the Zenins clan property, after all, free housing and good pay? What more can a nursing student ask for?

It was quite large, and you weren’t the only maid, but probably the youngest. You found yourself getting to know everybody there; the maids, the clan leaders (who you’d only nod at), the younger clan members and- wait who’s that? There’s a gorgeous hunk of a man, tall, muscular, and oh so many scars.

You’ve never been interested in boring business men, the boys in your classes, every immature guy who’s ever asked you out- no. But who was he? You barely ever saw him around and yet he’s gorgeous, even with the plentiful of scars that covered his face and the badly done bandages around his arms. He didn’t even spare you a glance as he walked past you- and a shiver of cold went down your spine as he did so. You needed to find out asap who this man was.

And you did. A young man, around 18, a disgrace, and you know now where those scars must have came from. The curses he’s forced to fight. You found out from other clan members, it wasn’t hard. They all talked harshly about him, like he was an abomination to the Zenin clan and you couldn’t help but feel bad.

And finally after trying to bump into him several times, trying to make eye contact with him, get even a peep out of him- you find him passed out on the floors of the corridors of the Zenin members dorms.

He was bleeding out, shaking and twitching, and you could see the large gashes in chest, the deep bruises on his muscular arms as he tried to pull himself up, the blood that drips from his lips. You thought he looked gorgeous like this.

But you were slightly worried, after all he was bleeding out fast, and it was a matter of time before his body would be in a critical state- so you acted fast. You slipped him into your room, hiding him away from the world. You grabbed supplies from the nursing station; gauze, bandages, iv bag, overall tools you thought you might need.

This was your chance to make him notice you. After all, you overheard that he’d be punished if he needed taking care of at the nurses station- so what better solution is you, a nursing student, to help him secretly! You’re doing him a favor.

What you don’t understand is why he freaks out the first time he wakes up. You’re sure it’s some trauma response, but he’s ripping his iv out and breaking things in his way and almost tackling you down- he’s scared. So of course you sedate him, luckily you kept that needle on you. And there was just something so powerful in the way that with just a small needle pressed into his skin, this big hunk of a man would slump against you- at your very mercy.

The second time he awakes is a lot better. He’s calmer and he takes a good look at his surroundings, realizing he is in fact still in the zenins property, just in a different room then his. You explain how you found him and that took him in to take care of his wounds. The only reaction you get from him is a weird furrow in his brows and a twinkle in his eyes- a facial reaction you can’t pinpoint or read.

After that you’re quite disappointed. Once he’s out your room you two go back to never talking or interacting, and you deem your plan a failure.

But what you don’t know is that you caught a little someone’s eye.

What you believe is him avoiding you is Toji actually watching you from where you can’t see. What you believe is him ignoring you- refusing to make eye contact with you, is him knowing he’ll break and pounce on you once you do. What you believe is him not liking you, not having an inch of interest in you, is him watching you sleep from the window in your maid dorm.

He just can’t understand. Toji has never thought of himself as a real person with real feelings. His feelings- buried. Empathy and livelihood? Buried. He was never allowed to be human. And he’s never seen himself as one. So why did you treat him like one? Why were you kind? Sweet? Your adorable smile and silky hair, glossy eyes and this cute facial expressions. Nobodies ever given Toji a second thought. Not an ounce of love or empathy has ever been shown to him- but you. With all your generosity and kind hearted actions- you took care of him personally because you didn’t want him to get punished in the nursing station.

With your tender eyes and your soft hands, when you caught him two days aftwr he left your room so you could re-do his bandages, cleaning his wounds and reapplying new cleaner gauze around his old injuries.

He didn’t say a word, he couldn’t- his little breaths hitching every time your soft hands glazed him or your face was just a little to close to his.

He had to learn everything about you. Your childhood, the way you loved, the foods you ate and all your friends- he needed to know everything. He’d even purposely let a curse or two bite at him- just so he could stand at your door bloody and bruised, waiting for your soft touches.

He was utterly obsessed.

But then you up and left.

Those little interactions didn’t grow to anything, and you left after graduating your school, you didn’t have to be a maid anymore.

And that’s when he became incredibly desperate.

Present day, he finds himself at your door, at your apartment. It’s been a while- but he found you. He knows he needs to plan this perfectly, some way to make you swoon and fall for him, a way that won’t make you question how the hell he found you.

But then he notices you inside your apartment, you’re sitting eating a candle-lit dinner, you look so beautiful- wait who’s that? A man sits in front of you, eating the food Tojis sure you made for him. You know he’d cook for you right? You wouldn’t have to move a muscle. But Tojis angry, he’s upset, his blood is boiling at the thought of you with a lover. That’s supposed to be him! Giggling and eating across from you, talking and- did he just hold your hand? He’s holding your hand.

And that’s when Toji breaks.

You barely even process what happened, all you see is blood and your date is no longer in his chair, his body isn’t even in the room. But there is another man in the room, a tall muscular man, with that familiar glaze in his eyes you remember so well.

You immediately get up out of reflex, to run to hide to do something. And he’s caught off guard as you run off into your apartment, hiding in your closet. He sighs. He knows he shouldn’t have done what he just did, he could have at least waited. Waited till the man left your apartment where he could kill him in peace, without scaring you. But now, he has to do this the tough way. He has to force you into his arms. Fine. That’ll do, too.

He stomps into your room, glancing around your bedroom and taking it all in. He’s already been in here once when you weren’t home. Climbing into your bed, stealing a few hairs off your hairbrush, organizing the plushies on your bed and taking notice of every little thing in your home. That’s also how he knew every small hiding place you could possibly be in.

“Come on, you know I won’t hurt you. I just came to visit you..”

He finally speaks, and his voice his deep and almost slurred, it’s obvious he’s excited. He’s always had to hide his devastating obsession with you, the only person who’d ever glance his way, the only person who’s ever smiled at him or clean his wounds, even comfort him. You were there. The only person there. An Angel, his sweet Angel, he had to have you. After all, you had to be his soulmate. Why else would you care the way you did, when nobody else could?

“I promise I’ll be good to ya.”

He says as he actively touches your things, pocketing small items like your chapstick or hair band- even your panties.

“I’ll treat ya well. You won’t have to worry your little head off about nothin’. Chores, cooking, shopping, working, I can take care of it all for ya. Just come out kay’?”

The way he talks actually seems genuine, as you peer at him from the small crack in the closet.

He thinks you’re svared, probably shaking and terrified. Like a little bunny being hunted by wolf, or a small gazelle being preyed on by a lion. He’s sure your svared, dizzy, traumatized.

Oh, but you’re not.

You’re shivering and shaking yes. But from fear? No, excitement. This was.. exhilarating. You’ve never felt anything like this. The way he killed for you- the way his fingers glide against your things like he’s saving them in his memory-remembering what you like.

It’s exactly what you did.

You remember- back when you worked for the Zenin clan. He was set on missions, to kill curses- it was more of a humiliation ritual then anything. You knew he’d come to you silently asking for help with his wounds, you helped him everytime. But while he was gone?

Well, you were quite sneaky.

Picking the lock or climbing through his open window. Then you’d snoop around. He didn’t have much, it’s obvious he wasn’t loved or cared for at all. That’s okay, you’d provide more then enough love and care for the both of you. You’d snoop and document every little finding, whatever hints you could get from what he liked and used.

That is, until you found your used panties hidden in his pillow case.

And that’s when you knew, you had a little stalker on your tail.

But everytime you tried your hardest to interact with him other then a silent nod in the hallway as you walked past him, or a twitch of his lips as an answer when you nursed him- you got nothing. Like a stone wall you couldn’t break, couldn’t crack, and you just wanted your yandere to snap. You wanted to have him in your arms, where you could coo at him and tell him that he didn’t need his family, or any friends or anyone- because your love could overcome all. That he only needed you.

So you decided that you’d take a risk. A risk to finally make his facade crack, so that he’d finally break loose and show his true colors. You knew it was possible- seeing that he also had an alter of you under his bed, in a shoe box. A collection of things- a few candid photos of you, a used tissue, an old bracelet, nail clippings, a receipt, and.. your used tampons? Okay. He did love you, obsessed even, you could make him break.

And so you took the risk of leaving him completely.

You left- moved into a nice but small apartment on the other side of the city. You prayed he’d find you, hoping that this wasn’t just a fluke- that you finally met your match- your soulmate.

So finally, when you came home to a few small things missing, your plushies organized in jus the way you like them, and the smell of him lingered in the air- you knew he was yours. All yours. Your soulmate, your man, yours yours yours.

So you shake with excitement and glee and his hunky body makes its way closer to your closet, where you hide. You know your panties are soaked, and there’s a big smile on your face that definitely gives away how happy you are. You’re sure if you had a tail like a puppy, it would be wagging like crazy out of pure excitement.

“Doll. I’m getting angry. If you get out now, I won’t have to drag ya out okay?”

Your silent though, your eyes full of hearts as you cover your mouth, trying not to breathe so loud.

“I swear to fucking god. This is my last warning, if you don’t get out I’ll-“

“I’m here!” You whine softly, kicking the closet door open just a crack, wide glossy eyes looking up at the hunky man.

He hadn’t expected you to actually be complaint and do what he asked, he expected he’d have to force you out. Tojis eyes were wide as he looked down at you, watching you shuffle out the closet, on your knees, your tiny body shaking.

“Oh doll.”

He picks you up, cradling you into his strong arms, and you immediately wrap your arms and legs around him and your face finds solace in his neck, nuzzling into him.

“Did I scare you too hard? You know I hurt him for your own good, I promise he was bad. I’ll take care of ya.” His arms are heavy around you, tight and unforgiving. He can’t let you go, not now, not after he finally has you plaint in his arms.

But you also want to see how far he’d go, now that he’s in your arms.

“Let go of me! You’re insane! I-I hate you!” You acted, shoving him and scratching at his neck and chest, trying to shove him away.

He grunted, his eyes wide again as you started to fight back. He thought this might happen- it’s why he wanted to go the easy way first, to just softly ease you into his arms- until he ended up breaking.

But he was angry, shoving you down onto your own plush bed, his hands pinning you down by your shoulders.

“Stop fighting!” He yelled- almost whining. He was angry, but it all came from a place of insecurity- and you knew that. So you played into that.

“I don’t wanna be with you- you’re disgusting!”

And things went dark after that.

You awoke in a dark environment, cold, and your ankle chained to a wall, and your laid on a clean futon. Your dress clothes are still on from your “date” but your shoes are off and your light makeup was cleaned off your face. You could tell your hair had been brushed, your favorite skincare serum applied to your skin, chapstick on your lips, as if you were preened after being knocked out.

Your ears perk up as you hear a door swing open, and your see your lover walk into the dark room your in. Your confused, you hadn’t expected him to go as far as to knock you out and take you away- to wherever this is.

“Ah. Your awake. If you’re wondering where you are, it’s the basement of the Zenin clans property- a dungeon if you will.”

You look at him confused. You didn’t think he’d take you back to his origins, a place you were sure he hated.

“They’re all dead, if you’re wondering. You’re my family now.”

All dead? He… killed his family? Your sure now the estate must be his, his to make new memories in, his to have you in, his to make a new family in.

“T-Toji, this place is scary.” A cell you were basically in, you were lucky he had placed a clean futon in there.

“Scary huh? Well I can’t bring you up if you aren’t good.” His tone was almost condensing, but god were you into it. He has rules for you doesn’t he? You have to be good for him. And that was enough to get you excited again.

“I-I’ll be good! I promise!” You tried to crawl to him, but the chain withheld you. His eyes were wide and curious at what you said, the way you reached out to grab him, your sweet eyes he’s seen before, the innocent glance and pouty lips.

“I promise.” You pouted, an innocent act for how you truly felt, wanting to pounce on him, to confess all your petty sins and show him all your love.

“Prove it, doll.”

[biancadoes1]

I’m sorry but I just can not buy that Luke is with Antonia romantically and Nicola is with Jake romantically. Legit for several reasons one of the biggest being if they were so serious with their significant others why did they never simply say “We are both in conjured relationships with other people that we wish to remain private and we’re just friends”. That is all they would’ve had to do at any point during the WT. the numbers would have still numbered as most general audiences did NOT watch the world tour and most GA watched season 3 for Polin alone and know Nothing about Lukola stuff. Also it doesn’t explain all the other stuff from the WT. The absolutely unhinged things Lukola said about each other, the over touch. I’m sorry we know this man knows nothing of personal space with Nicola but at this supposed hard launch event with his supposed actual girlfriend he leaves even room for the Holy Spirit between them? Not to mention the hand holding. What the heck was that? We have seen this man literally search Nicola’s hand through fabric and grip it for dear life. The refusal to let go at the London premiere of Nicola’s hand and seeking it out at the NYC premiere but suddenly with his actual girlfriend he’s touch averse?!? Like also Nicola and Luke were soooo touchy throughout the world tour. Him putting bracelet on her with one hand so he can keep his other around her waist? His arm around her during chair interviews. Them being literally on top of each other during the live stream. Why is Luke her number one or gives a fuck that she finds Ryan Gosling attractive? Why did her whole family react like that to meeting him if he’s JUST a friend? Not to mention all the alone dinners and hang outs they had when press was done? Why are journalists getting vibes from them? Why didn’t they hear cut in the carriage? Why did the break the settee from simulating fucking so hard? Why was Nicola gonna say Colin Bridgerton’s biggest secret was something about his dick size? Why did she have a Polaroid of her friend and costar on her phone for several months if she had boyfriend already?! Sharing the same cup in Brazil and him reaching for that spoon that had just been in her mouth! Why was he SOO sat to hear what she looks for in a man? Make it make sense! And also if both of them are in serious relationships since last year why don’t either Luke or Nicola follow their supposed significant others? Since they’re just great friends right wouldn’t you support your bffs girlfriend/boyfriends of over a year? And then again with both of them NOT spending NYE with the adjacents that’s kinda weird no? And I’m sorry I can’t get over how just not happy he looks in those photos; the video inside is better but still it’s just all so fucking weird and not adding up. And again if Antonia is his significant other for over a year why isn’t she allowed to have him anywhere on her social media? Sorry it just deadass doesn’t make sense? Regardless I am sat on this ship until one of them marries someone else but I’m just saying I’m finding this narrative VERY very hard to believe. India and Corey had great chemistry and did a press tour but were able to shut down rumors real quick as he had a significant other. I just don’t believe everything we saw was PR as they legit didn’t even know cameras were on them during multiple times. I’m just gonna watch and wait but again the math truly ain’t mathing for me.

The math is never mathing.

[andre-and-cal]

Thinking about how Andre’s parents got charged with 9 counts of criminal negligence following the massacre,,

They were terrified for Andre after hearing about the shooting on the news, and they’d rushed over to the school to make sure he was okay.

However, they were absolutely distraught to find out that one of the gunmen was their own son, with the other gunman being his best friend— who they knew so well and whose company they pleasantly enjoyed.

The tragic day almost felt unreal. Mrs. Kriegman didn’t believe it at first, while Mr. Kriegman was flabbergasted, asking the officers lots of questions. Mrs. Kriegman had a hand cupped over her mouth, refusing to consider that Andre and Cal could’ve done something like this. Mr. Kriegman asked if Andre was okay, if they’d arrested him. Mrs. Kriegman demanded that she see Andre. The officers wouldn’t let her go inside the school, though, as it was now considered a crime scene.

But then they were informed that Andre was dead, and that 12 students were deceased because of him and his comrade.

Andre Kriegman, who used to hold his mother’s hand to help himself walk better.

Andre Kriegman, who never said he loved his parents too much, but would climb into bed and lie between them at night to show them how much he really did, even with his older brother’s condescending judgment.

Andre Kriegman, who would quietly sit on his father’s shoulders when they went to amusement parks, and fall asleep against him by the end of the day.

Andre Kriegman, who would sit silently and observe his parents whenever they argued.

The massacre had stripped away Andre’s youth— every last bit of it, in Mr. and Mrs. Kriegman’s eyes.

Mrs. Kriegman wanted to be sick. She wanted to go back in time and hold her baby boy again, before this all happened, while Mr. Kriegman was a crestfallen man, wishing that they could have done something to prevent this.

But most of all, he was angry. He was angry that his son had killed people. He was angry that his son had decided to perpetrate a shooting with his closest and only friend. He thought they’d been getting closer. He couldn’t believe that he would waste his life by raise hell on Iroquois with Calvin, even while they were so close to graduating and getting away from their high school troubles, and then just kill themselves like their lives meant nothing to the two boys. But now they would both forever be in high school.

For a little while, Mr. Kriegman was in shock at the knowledge of how Andre and Cal’s plans had gone right above his head.

However, Mr. and Mrs. Kriegman were soon charged with 9 counts of criminal negligence. They didn’t end up getting arrested, as they would’ve had to have had a run-in with the police beforehand in order for the Essex County Police Department to have a warrant that required arrest. Mr. and Mrs. Kriegman were both good people, but they still had to go to court.

Mrs. Kriegman, even though she and her husband were to serve no real jail time, was in tears. Her son had just committed suicide and was one of two boys who carried out a deadly mass shooting at their high school, and now she and her husband were getting charged. She felt complete and utterly devastated and shameful. Does she wish that Andre was never born? No, but she believes that this wouldn’t have happened if she knew about “Andre’s mental health troubles”, especially with how the public thought that Andre was the “bad one” out of him and Cal, despite that not being the case.

Mr. Kriegman was equally as ashamed— if not a little more.

Because how could he forgive himself for raising such a monster?

[themultifanshipper]

i am ovulating so bad but can I request a franco x reader x ollie smut where they were fighting over the reader like that one fight scene from bridget jones' diary, and the reader was like... why not both??

To say the start of the 2025 season had been eventful was an understatement. 

Or at least from Franco and Ollie’s points of view. 

Warnings: smut, threesome, blowjob (the return of Franco's dick sucking lips), mention of quickies, also a lot of alcohol, Yukierre being little shits, Ted kravitz once again making an appearance, very plot heavy ngl there's not much smut

At some point during the winter break, you had struck up a situationship with Franco. And you’d managed to keep it a secret for about a week. 

There was no such thing as privacy in Monaco, so of course it was inevitable that someone would eventually snap a pic of him leaving your house, and that was it. 

Ollie had been planning on asking you out at the start of the season, given that he now had a full-time seat and you'd be seeing a lot more of each other. 

And he didn’t really consider Franco much of a threat, so he decided to ask him during testing. 

The two of them were gazing at you from across the pitlane. 

“Are you and her like... an official thing?”  

Franco scoffed “What is that supposed to mean?”  

“You know... do you love her?” 

Franco frowned at him.  

“No, I don’t. But just because we aren’t in a relationship, do not think for a second that I will let you have her” 

Ollie raised his hands in surrender. “I didn’t say I wanted to. I’m just curious.” 

Franco didn’t believe him. And Ollie didn’t believe Franco.  

And they were both right. 

Because the truth was that Franco was in love with you, but he was too much of a pussy to do anything about it. So he was fine with just sex, until he could muster the courage to confess to you.  

And the truth was that Ollie was going to do everything he could to have you. He did have feelings for you, that had been brewing for a while, but the added element of competition made him hungry. 

Ollie was nothing if not proactive. He took every opportunity to talk to you, and flirt shamelessly with you. 

And at first, you were reticent. 

You’d been waiting for Franco to make a move. You liked him, a lot. And you knew he liked you. So any day now, right? 

Except weeks went by, and still no indication that Franco was going to make any kind of commitment to you. Not even a drunk phonecall, or a proper date... 

So eventually, Ollie's advances started getting to you. You were only human.  

You had no idea that the two drivers were in any kind of altercation in Melbourne. 

Someone had spotted them having a heated argument and a blurry video was circulating around the more remote spots of the internet, so you missed it completely. 

In China, you got your first indication that something was going on. 

Before FP3, Ollie had come to you saying he wanted to talk to you about something important. 

You told him to meet you in your drivers room after the session, and that you had something to talk to him about as well. 

His heart swelled with hope. Perhaps you also had feelings for him and he was finally going to beat Franco. 

But then, Franco was there, in your drivers room, waiting for you after the session.  

“I’m waiting for someone, you need to get out before someone sees-” 

“I don’t care about Ollie, I need you so bad right now” he groaned into your neck while his hands worked to get your suit off. 

He’d never done anything so bold before. And as soon as his hands and lips were on you, you caved. He had his way with you on the massage table, doing his best to get the sweetest, and loudest, noises out of you in an effort to ward any lurkers away. 

One of said lurkers, Ollie, froze when he heard the noises coming from your room.  

His heart sank, Franco had gotten to you first.  

This time. 

You and Ollie both did terribly on sunday. You weren’t expecting a podium, but some points would have been nice. And Ollie DNF’d thanks to one of the Alpines (in his mind he blamed Franco, even though the Argentine wasn’t even in a car) crashing into him in turn 2. 

So you and him did the only thing you knew would lift your spirits. You went out drinking. 

You ended up in some club, and you knew Yuki and Pierre were there as well. 

You drank, and danced with the three men. Forgetting your worries for a night. You hadn’t had that much fun in a while, Yuki and Pierre were absolutely unhinged when you got a bit of alcohol down them. 

Ollie stuck by your side the whole night, and eventually your mind went back to the FP3 session. 

You dragged him outside to talk (the club was stifling, and loud as fuck), and he wondered briefly if there was something wrong because of the haste with which you’d grabbed him. 

“Ollie, I just wanted to say I’m sorry about Friday. I got... distracted”  a blush crept over your cheeks. 

Ollie found it adorable. 

“That’s okay” he pulled you into a drunken hug “At least you were making so much noise there was no chance of me walking in on you” 

You giggled shyly, nuzzling into his chest.  

“Oh my god... that’s so embarrassing” 

“Well, I suppose that was Franco’s way of staking his claim” there was an undertone of something almost bitter in the way he said his name. 

That was a very odd thing to say. Why would Franco even need to stake a claim? Unless... 

“Let’s go inside, I’m cold” you muttered, and Ollie led you back to the booth where Pierre and Yuki were arguing over whether Mijiu or Baijiu tasted better. 

You had no idea what either of them were, so you ordered a round of both for everyone to do a taste test. 

They were both awful in your opinion, so you ordered a round of shots of tequila to wash them down. 

It didn't take long before all of you made your way to the dance floor, inhibitions completely obliterated. 

In the back of your mind, you had a plan. Granted you were on the edge of blackout drunk, but it still made sense to you. 

When the song changed to something a bit slower and more... sensual, you shuffled closer to Ollie.  

If Franco had been trying to stop Ollie from talking to you, there had to be a reason, right? 

So you moved to the beat, rolling your hips enticingly as you sang along to the words. 

Ollie lifted an eyebrow in question, his lips curving into a drunken smirk. 

You bit your lip and got closer, hooking your fingers into his belt loops to pull him in. 

He got into the rhythm very quickly, and slid a hand around your lower back to hold you close while you danced. 

The tension was palpable, but the chemistry was undeniable as you moved in sync, rolling your hips to the heavy bass pumping through the speakers. 

Your faces were inches apart, separated only by your mingling breaths, and the rapidly dwindling amount of restraint you two had. 

“Kiss mee” you slurred, smiling up at him. You needed to know whether he wanted you as much as you wanted him. As if the way you were grinding on each other wasn’t enough. 

“What?!” 

“Kiss me!” you said, louder. 

His mouth opened, hesitation written all over his face, but he glanced down at your lips. 

Between the alcohol and the noise of the club, it was impossible to hear anything, so you mistook his hesitation for misunderstanding. 

You decided to get your point across by curling a hand into his hair and pulling him down to crash your lips together. 

He quickly got over the shock of it and cupped your face with his hands to deepen the kiss. 

You didn’t know how long you stood there making out, but it was long enough for Yuki to come and tell you that he and Pierre were leaving and that you could all share an uber if you wanted. 

The miniscule part of your brain that was still rational decided that you and Ollie should go with them, so you did. 

You had what you wanted anyway. Confirmation that you had two boys that wanted you. 

Japan is where you realised just how badly. 

You didn’t know about their arguments over the weekend, you just knew that Franco was trying to have sex with you every minute of every day, and that Ollie had a smug smirk on his face constantly. 

It was unnerving, really. 

On sunday morning, your team made you aware that pictures were circulating, of two blurry figures kissing in a club in China, next to two people who looked suspiciously like Pierre and Yuki. 

It was impossible to confirm who the people kissing were so you had nothing to worry about, but your PR manager asked you to please, for the love of god, be more careful. 

The race came and went, and you and Ollie both finished in the points. 

Yuki was taking Pierre to a karaoke bar that night, and in true Yuki fashion, invited you, Ollie, and Franco. 

The little shit- stirrer. And of course you knew the idea was probably a Yuki-Pierre collaboration. 

It was a bit awkward at first, both Ollie and Franco were trying to get your attention under the table with wandering hands, but you quickly shut that down. 

You and Pierre were up. You were singing a duet version of ‘My Way’ but Pierre sang his parts in french. It was hilarious. 

Yuki jumped onto the table and joined in within seconds. 

You were so into it that you didn’t notice Ollie and Franco slip out.  

Until the song finished and you looked down to see that the leather seats were unoccupied.  

You decided to go and look for them, and it didn't take you long to find them. 

The shouting could be heard as soon as you shut the door to the private room. 

You followed the voices all the way to the men's toilets, in which the two were arguing. 

You pushed the door open and couldn't help but laugh at the sight in front of you. 

Ollie had Franco in what seemed to be an attempt at a headlock, but while one of his arms was around Franco's throat, the other was pinned under Franco's weight against the wall. 

“Oi!” you hollered at them and they immediately let each other go, attempting to straighten themselves out. 

Ollie had a swollen lip and Franco looked like he'd had an altercation with a plug socket. 

“What the fuck are you doing?!” 

“Nothing” “He started it!” “He said-“ 

“I don't care!” you shouted “get your asses back in there and behave!” 

You pointed towards the room sternly, and they quickly shuffled down the corridor with their tails between their legs. 

You managed to finish the karaoke without another incident, but you could feel the tension between them. 

The walls were closing in. It was becoming all too real to you all of a sudden. They both wanted you, and you didn’t want to choose, but you couldn’t exactly let them keep tearing each other to shreds over you. 

Shit hit the fan in Bahrain. 

They were behaving like animals. 

You couldn't speak to either of them without the other one getting jealous and pissing you off. 

Ollie didn't do FP1 because Haas had gave his car to a rookie for the session, which meant that both he and Franco were in the paddock during the session. Unsupervised. 

It came as a shock to everyone but you when they started openly brawling. 

You'd just got out of the car, and were getting weighed when you heard the commotion. 

“DON'T YOU DARE!”  

Crash. 

“MOTHERF-“ 

“YOU TWO STOP I-  OW!” 

You ran towards the two dickheads. Who were fighting in your garage. 

These two could not fight to save their lives. It was the stupidest brawl you'd ever seen. 

Your mechanics sort were hesitant to intervene, sort of standing around ready to step in as soon as there was any risk of them doing actual damage to each other. 

You didn't know who threw the first punch. You didn't care. 

The adrenaline was coursing through you so you went straight in, pushing the two struggling men down to the ground to destabilize them, then grabbed the shirt of the first one you could get your hands on. 

Which happened to be Franco. 

Someone next to you shouted “Yeah! Get your boyfriend!” 

“He is not my boyfriend, fuck off!” you shouted back. 

Your words had different effects. Franco’s heart broke a little, despite it being true, and Ollie now knew he had an undeniable chance. 

And everyone around you went “ouch” 

You dragged Franco away and threw him to the side, allowing Ollie to get back up and lunge at him. 

You blocked him, and slapped him, hard. 

You turned around and slapped Franco even harder. 

“Out of my garage, now!” you spat at them. 

They looked like they wanted to argue but you didn't even give them the chance. 

“I said, OUT!” you bellowed, and they looked at the crowd sheepishly before making their way out, in opposite directions. 

You didn't even entertain the small mass of people that were staring at you. You strutted to the back of the garage and made your way through the corridors to find a quiet place to think. 

You thought things couldn't get any worse, but of course, you quickly found out that a camera had wormed its way into the crowd and had broadcasted live the moment where you intervened and shouted at the person (who turned out to be Ted Kravitz) to ‘fuck off’. 

You were in your hotel room, looking through tweets about the footage, when a message popped up on your screen. 

“I'm sorry about earlier, can we talk?” 

It was Franco. 

“No” 

You left every subsequent message on read. 

About 10 minutes later a knock at the door interrupted you once again. 

It was probably your PR manager, coming to give you the 7th speech of the day about how “for the record, this is not what I meant when I told you to be more careful!” 

You looked through the peep hole and cursed loudly. 

It was Oliver fucking Bearman. 

You wrenched the door open. 

“What the fuck are you doing here? If anyone on my team sees you here we are both dead!” 

You dragged him inside and slammed the door shut behind him. 

“I wanted to come and explain-“ 

“No!” you whisper-yelled “There is nothing to explain! You and Franco have humiliated me, and yourselves today!” 

“But-“  

“There is no ‘but'! This shit stops now, I can't have my name dragged through the mud because you two wankstains decided it was a good idea to start fighting in my garage! Do you realise how that looks?” 

He looked at you guiltily and hung his head in shame. He looked almost small while sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“This whole thing has been a mess from the beginning! Because the truth is I like you both and I don't want to-“ 

You were interrupted by another knock at the door. 

Oh hell no. 

You stormed over to the door and wrenched it open again, revealing Franco in gray sweats and a dark hoodie. 

His attire told you everything you needed to know about his intentions right now. 

“Go away!” you hissed. “I told you I didn't want to talk” 

Franco glanced at Ollie still sitting on the bed and frowned. 

“So I am not allowed to be here but you invited him? That is not fair” 

“Oh for god's sake!” 

You dragged him inside, like you did Ollie, and motioned for him to sit on the bed. 

“You two are idiots!” You hissed. “What was that, today?” 

“We both wanted to go to your driver’s room to talk to you” 

“Yeah? And then you started fucking fighting!” 

“Because we love you!” 

“I can fucking see that, dipshit” you flicked Ollie's forehead “And thanks to you every motherfucker who watches Formula One also saw it, because you fought on live fucking television!” 

Ollie scratched the back of his neck sheepishly and Franco stared at the floor. 

And as if the universe hadn't punished you enough. Another knock rattled against the door. 

You turned around and watched in horror as your PR manager let herself in, and upon seeing the two men on the bed, stared daggers at them. 

“You two just don't know when to quit do you?” 

“I'm sorry about this, I didn't know either of them were coming they just turned up” you muttered. 

She huffed and rolled her eyes. “Well at least this all seems a bit more mature than whatever the fuck happened in the garage earlier” 

She turned to you. “I've smoothed it over for you, given that you'd just come out of the car, and according to the footage you actually stopped the fight, so you won't be getting any fines or penalties. Although I would refrain from telling any Skysports presenters to fuck off anytime soon. No matter how much they deserve it” 

She turned to the other two. “I however do not have the power to save either of you, so my guess is you will be informed by your teams of any fines you may be getting.” 

She eyed you all sadly. 

“Please sort your shit out. What you do, or do not do behind closed doors is none of my business, but please stop being idiots in public, it makes my job so much harder, and I am not paid extra.” 

The two drivers had the decency to look ashamed as they apologised to her. 

“On that note, I wish you all good night, and please don't break any furniture” 

And with that she smiled softly and left, leaving the three of you in silence. 

“You heard the woman” you sat on the chair next to the bed and crossed your arms defiantly “Let's sort it out.” 

They looked at each other helplessly and you rolled your eyes.  

“Come on, what do you want?” 

Franco piped up first. 

“I want you. All of you. I have been in love with you for months but I’ve been a coward…” 

You nodded, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach at his confession. 

You looked at Ollie. 

“I was planning on asking you out. But I got jealous when I found out you were with Franco… and then I uhhh… kind of made it into a competition. Trying to get you to like me back before Franco had the guts to tell you.” 

You hummed, not quite knowing what to say. 

“What about you?” Franco asked. “What do you want?” 

“I uhh…” you were almost intimidated by the two men staring at you. “Well… I like you both, so… either you can learn to share, or neither of you can have me” 

They looked at each other, seemingly having a silent conversation as they glanced back and forth between you and each other. 

The fact that they seemed to be entertaining the idea of sharing you was doing funny things to your brain. 

You imagined having them both at your mercy. Then your mind wandered to all the possibilities. 

The image of them making out briefly flashed in your mind.  

The butterflies returned to your stomach and you let your mind wander even further, Franco on his knees for Ollie.  

A voice suddenly pulled you from your thoughts. 

“Are you okay?” Franco asked, and you stared at his lips. They would look so perfect wrapped around- 

“Yeah, you look a bit flustered” Ollie chuckled. “What are you thinking about?” 

You bit your lip. 

“The two of you. Together.” 

A small blush crept up their necks and they squirmed uncomfortably. 

“We can share” Franco muttered, eyes darkening slightly. 

“Good” you smiled, standing up and slowly making your way towards them. “I want you both naked in the next 15 seconds…” 

They glanced at each other with wide eyes before hurriedly taking their clothes off. 

Once they were fully bare, they looked up at you expectantly. 

You grinned and swiftly sat down in between them. 

You pulled Franco in for a kiss, hands inching their way up the two men's thighs. 

You could feel Ollie's gaze on you so you turned your head and smiled at him before leaning in to kiss him. 

One of your hands went to touch Ollie's cock, which was half hard, and your other was met with Franco's hand, that he had already wrapped around himself while watching you make out with Ollie. 

You swapped again, Ollie's cock hardening at your touch, and at the sight of Franco pushing his tongue into your mouth. 

Then Ollie's turn came again, and he was fully hard by now, so you swept your thumb over his tip to make his hips twitch. 

You then stopped touching them altogether and leaned back on your elbows on the bed. 

“Now you two” you smirked. 

They looked at each other breathlessly, blush high on their cheeks and eyes lidded. 

They were hesitant, Ollie's hand weaved its way into Franco's hair to pull him in.  

It started out chaste, but still, the sight of it was truly something. 

You wriggled out from in between them and they looked at you in question. 

“Gonna lock the door” you muttered, jogging over to it. 

You heard a muffled “good idea” and turned to see them back at it, and this time with gusto. 

Their eyes were closed, so you undressed silently and climbed back on the bed. 

Ollie gasped into the kiss when Franco's hand made its way around his cock, squeezing gently before setting a slow, almost teasing pace. 

Franco trailed kisses along his jaw, making his way down Ollie’s chest, and the latter looked at you. 

His eyebrows jumped when he saw your state of undress. And went even higher when he noticed you were touching yourself. 

But it was quickly wiped from his mind when Franco’s lips suddenly made contact with his tip. 

He gasped, head whipping down to look at where Franco was kissing up and down his length.  

One of his hands once again found itself weaved into Franco's dark locks when the absolute tease decided to lick his cock from base to tip, while staring straight up at him through his lashes. 

“Jesus” he muttered “You've done this before haven't you?” 

Franco just winked, and took his cock halfway down into his mouth and sucked. 

The two of them looked ethereal, Ollie gasping for air while Franco sucked him down as far as he could go. 

Apparently Franco was doing something with his tongue, because Ollie kept throwing his head back and hissing. 

“Fuck- I'm not going to last long if you keep doing that.” 

Franco pulled off with a pop and smirked at him, pulling him in for another sloppy makeout. 

You were sitting there, two fingers deep inside yourself, and they were completely ignoring you. 

The irony of the situation made you scoff. 

“Guys… is either of you going to fuck me or…?” 

Ollie laughed and Franco started crawling up the bed towards you. 

“It would be my pleasure” he smiled. 

Ollie stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. 

“Actually, I think you have fucked her enough, it's my turn now” 

He crawled up to you, and kissed you sweetly, pulling your hand away from your cunt and replacing it with his own. 

“God, watching us got you this excited?” 

You nodded shyly. “You two look really fucking hot together” 

He laughed, gummy smile making a brief appearance as he lined himself up, sliding his tip up and down your folds to tease you. 

“You ready?”  

“Of course” 

He slid home in one gentle thrust, and you moaned into his mouth when he leaned down to kiss you. 

Franco came to kneel next to your head and waited for you to take a breather before asking you to open your mouth for him. 

He slapped his cock against your tongue teasingly, and the wet noise caught Ollie's attention, who had been mouthing at your tits absentmindedly. 

Franco fucked you mouth in earnest, and when he noticed the pther man looking at him heatedly, leaned over to capture his lips in a bruising kiss... 

It was all over far too quickly, but the exciting novelty of the situation had gotten to them and they came together with a muffled whine. 

You then made them clean you up with their tongues, and the sight of both of their faces between your legs, taking turns lapping up your juices, just felt right. 

If they could share, and not be too obvious about it, then the rest of the season should be a breeze. 

You sent your PR manager a hefty check, with a note. 

“Thank you for putting up with our shit. It's been sorted <3” 

[runninriot]

The End Of Maybe

written for the @steddiebingo card prompt: proposal & @steddielovemonth day 1

rated: T | wc: 1.223 | tags: established relationship, emotional hurt/comfort, self-doubt, declarations of love, marriage proposal | also on ao3

 

   “Do you ever regret it?” Eddie asks quietly, eyes locked on the ceiling while his fingers are tracing invisible patterns on the skin of Steve’s back.

   “Regret what?”

Steve’s head is resting on Eddie’s chest, basking in the comfort of their shared body heat, still on his come down from an overdose of love-infused ecstasy. Enjoying his boyfriend’s closeness while his mind is happily drifting. Was drifting, until now. Now he’s alert, can sense the shift in Eddie’s mood, the gloomy aura suddenly surrounding him.

Eddie still hasn’t turned his gaze away from where it is fixed on nothing but white paint, stays unmoving even when Steve lifts his head to look at him.

   “Baby? Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on in your head.”

For how talkative Eddie usually is, Steve has long since learned that his boyfriend can be eerily quiet when something is eating away at him. When he’s trying to come up with solutions on his own instead of sharing the burden. Over time, they’ve found a way to meet in the middle – with Steve giving Eddie the space and time he needs to sort through his thoughts and Eddie keeping his promise not to shut Steve out, to share what’s gnawing at him eventually.

   “I mean,” Eddie starts, finally looking down to find Steve’s eyes, shifting so that they’re lying side by side, face to face. Still close despite the emotional distance Steve can feel like a physical wall between them.

   “Do you sometimes regret choosing this over- something else?”

He’s being vague on purpose, not even trying to elaborate what he means and Steve knows why, understands what he’s saying either way. They had this conversation before, once, and ended up in a big fight, maybe their biggest one yet. Because at the time, it had felt like Eddie was trying to push him away, trying to talk him into something he didn’t want out of unfounded fear of Steve changing his mind one day. Having a hard time believing that he chose this life, not despite but because of what it would mean for his future.

For Steve, this has never been temporary; he’s always been all in. Wants to spend the rest of his days with Eddie, through the good and the bad and everything.

   “Never,” Steve finally says, keeping his voice soft but making sure the message is clear, “I want this and nothing else. I love our life with everything we have. I love you. You know that, right?”

Without waiting for an answer, Steve leans in for a kiss, a firm press of lips to emphasise his words.

He knows it’s just a little bump in the road, just Eddie being in his head – it happens every now and then, it’s okay, nothing to really worry about. But still, Steve hates to see Eddie sad.

   “I know you do, I just- I don’t know.”

Eddie sighs, buys himself time by stealing another tender kiss from his boyfriend, and Steve lets him get away with it.

   “Where’s this coming from, baby? Did I do or say something that made you think I’ve changed my mind?”

   “No! No, you did nothing, I- I guess I’m just scared.”

With one hand, Steve cups the side of Eddie’s face, thumb gently stroking over his cheekbone, not saying anything but patiently waiting for him to go on.

   “I know you love me, that’s not what I’m worried about. I just sometimes wonder if it’s truly worth giving up so many of your dreams for this. For me.”

Steve knows what Eddie is referring to, even without him having to spell it out. It is true, there had been a time where Steve’s biggest dream was to have a wife and kids, a whole bunch of them, living a quiet small-town life with his picture-perfect family.

But that was before Eddie came along. Before he fell heart over head in love with a wonderful young man, with the prettiest smile and dark brown eyes that make him weak, still, after all those years. Sure, he’d be lying if he said he never asked himself that same question, wondering if being with Eddie was worth facing all the battles they had to fight. If loving Eddie was worth letting go of the future he’d always thought he wanted for himself.

But the answer is still the same as it has been for over 6 years now – yes. A thousand times yes. Because the truth is, he didn’t give up a dream, he created a new one. With Eddie at the centre of everything, he’s built a life that is better than anything he could’ve imagined.

Nothing compares to being loved by Eddie, and nothing could ever make this relationship any more perfect. Except maybe…

He shoots up so sudden it startles Eddie, who reluctantly obeys when Steve beckons him to sit.

   “What-”

Steve doesn’t give him a chance to finish his sentence, presses the tip of his finger against Eddie’s lips to shut him up – not to be rude; he just needs him to listen to what he has to say before he loses his courage.

   “You’re it for me, okay? You are everything I need to be happy and I- I want to grow old with you, want to spend the rest of my life with you. You are all I want, now and forever.”

Steve swallows roughly, has to take a few deep breaths, can already feel the burning of tears in his eyes.

Robin will lose her mind. Will probably also give him a lot of shit for doing it like this, here, in the isolated cocoon of their bedroom rather than making it the big, pompous surprise they always joked about in secret. When they talked about the hypothetical maybe of Steve proposing one day.

Truth is, Steve has been thinking about it a lot in the past, about asking Eddie to take this next big step with him. Not for the sake of making at least one of his younger self’s dreams a reality, but because he wants to be Eddie’s in every way possible. Is more than willing to give up a name that means nothing to him for one that means love and trust and family.

   “Eddie, baby, will you marry me?”

He waits for the words to sink in, anxiously watching Eddie go through all the stages of understanding what Steve is asking him.

   “Are you-” Realisation.

   “Do you really-” Disbelief.

   “You want to-” Reassurance.

   “Oh my God, yes! YES!” Eddie finally answers with a trembling voice and eyes full of tears.

They’re both shedding tears of joy now, arms wrapped around each other, kissing, and smiling and kissing some more until just kissing is no longer enough. When the need to be closer overcomes them and whispered declarations of love and devotion turn into something a lot more obscene. When their bodies demand to become one in heated passion, euphoric and wild and sweet.

And when they come undone for the second time this night, it feels different in a way, new. Because it’s their first time as soon-to-be husbands. Falling apart together, with all their love carved into a promise to mark the end of maybe and the beginning of forever – no after – just them ‘til the end.

[avionvadion]

This Trey discourse is getting ridiculous.

Tell me you don’t understand the dream without telling you don’t understand the dream. Tell me you don’t like Trey or understand his character without telling me you don’t like Trey or understand his character. For starters, the reason most of the fandom disliked Trey early on- book one. He didn’t stand up to Riddle’s mother or stop Riddle from being a tyrant.

Argument one: he was a child. A ten year old child whose parents were being screamed at for five hours straight (something of which BOTH Idia and Leona are horrified by, and those two had some strict upbringings themselves) while listening to eight year old Riddle wailing and sobbing for his mother to stop. That shit is traumatizing. Have you ever been screamed at unjustly as a kid? It’s terrifying. It haunts you. That kind of memory latches on and never lets go. Not without help.

Argument two: Trey is 18. He is a big brother. Not a parent. He didn’t raise his little siblings either, as his parents have a seemingly good relationship with each other and their children. He hasn’t seen Riddle in years, and while excited to see Riddle at the entrance ceremony he was quickly rebuffed by the now cold and steely Riddle who grew up under his abusive mother’s rule. He and Cater then worked with Riddle to dethrone their horrible then-dorm leader, and Trey was then sacrificed to the position of vice dorm leader because the entire dorm took a vote. Still, he did his best as vice dorm leader- not wanting to lose his head or watch their dorm mates stumble accidentally onto the execution block.

Trey, at the start, wasn’t particularly close to Riddle because Riddle wouldn’t let him be, and as someone who was traumatized by what happened when he WAS A CHILD likely struggled to speak up against Riddle’s harsher rules, and that most likely muddled together with Trey’s wish for Riddle to be happy. Going against Riddle would lead to conflict, and Riddle is short tempered as is. Trey likely believed that standing up to Riddle would make things worse instead of better.

He learns quickly from Adeuce later in book one how wrong he was, but that’s beside the point. The best Trey could do in the position HE DID NOT WANT was to give advice to his dorm mates and attempt to be Riddle’s voice of reason, acting as the peacemaker and struggling to keep any situation from escalating.

Something of note here, that I find particularly fascinating, is that it’s been stated by several characters that Riddle’s reign, though tyrannical, was nowhere near as bad as the last dorm leader- who was chaos incarnate. That plays a part in why Trey and Cater both were so willing to go along with Riddle’s iron ruling, even though both knew he was going about being dorm leader the wrong way.

There was no controlling or manipulating of Riddle- despite what Leona and Idia, who have ZERO CONNECTION AND INTERACTION with Trey and Cater prior to this dream, believed. There was no stopping Riddle, either. The best they could do was appease him and keep him calm.

Now, onto his dream.

We learn that Trey and his family “laugh” about what happened with Mrs. Rosebitch. This isn’t an, “oh they weren’t affected by what happened” situation, it’s an, “oh they were so badly affected by what happened that they can’t even talk about it properly because it’s so fucked up that they just laugh instead”. That’s called a trauma response. That trauma is so deeply rooted in Trey because he’s never learned to process it, that it’s there in his dream instead of being omitted.

Trey is also dreaming of a world in which Riddle has no stressful responsibilities. They’re at school, but his mother can’t reach him there, and Chen’ya- a childhood friend of Trey’s who was THERE when the Clover family got screamed at by Mrs. Rosebitch- is dorm leader instead. Riddle is not held down by what happened, and is seemingly “freed” from his mother’s cruel hand. Heartslabyul has become a safe space.

One built by Trey and Chen’ya, something they had unknowingly tried to do as children for Riddle (as they were unaware of the abuse, but had been a shining light for sweet baby Riddle who lived in the suffocating darkness) but failed- and paid severely for it.

Now, onto Fandom problem number two: the Round Bois.

I’m seeing people call Trey a “feeder” and are behaving harshly towards him because of it. But that literally couldn’t be farther from what’s happening. For example, let us take a look at his conversation with Vil (I brought my freaking receipts; this boy is my FAV of Heartslabyul) during Vil’s lab coat vignette.

We know Trey likes to bake.

He bakes for the Heartslabyul parties, and often gives Adeuce pastries to bring to Ramshackle to share with Yuu. But we learn in his New Years vignette that he bakes as a form of stress relief, too, to work his thoughts out and/or distract himself. It is a comfort to him. A safe space. And he knows whatever makes he will likely bring a smile to someone’s face. He enjoys baking, and he enjoys seeing people enjoy his sweets.

If someone is stressed, he encourages them to eat sweets- or cake with lots fruits, though that’s specific in this vignette because he just made a strawberry cake and was trying to find someone to give it to because it was one cake too many, lol, and Vil happened to be stressed out from something Rook said.

Trey isn’t being a “feeder” here or in his dream. He saw someone stressed and went, “Hey, I have a solution, why not try it? One slice won’t hurt and it’ll make you feel better/put you in a better mood.”

Baking is Trey’s solution, and a reliable source of comfort. He likes seeing how happy people are from the things he bakes, and he knows eating sweets can make other people happy. That’s why he goes out of his way to find someone to give the extra cake he accidentally made to- because it’ll put that person in a good mood and the cake will have a “good home” to go to.

Trey’s dream was basically giving Riddle and their other dorm mates a life where they could be happy and enjoy themselves without fear. A safe space. He could bake to his heart’s content in this massive kitchen his dream Heartslabyul provided, and everyone around him are happy and overall stress-free.

The reason they’re all ROUND BOIS???

It’s not because Trey was a “feeder” and fed them to that point, it’s because the dream-versions of his friends lacked self control and there was no one to stop them from eating sweet after sweet after sweet. They just happily ate whatever it was Trey baked, because he baked a lot- not to “feed” them, but because baking is something he greatly enjoys doing.