#is this my punishment for not texting him back when he said his life was in disarray

[xotaemintol]

Which one of the dreamies is the most dominant iyo?

(Not you sending this anonymously after texting me about it girl lmfao 😭) but anyways, I’ve actually been thinking about this for a while now because I want to start doing NCT DREAM hc’s but I feel like it’ll definitely shock some people if I don’t put Jeno first buuuut…

My personal ranking would be: Jaemin, Jeno, Mark, Jisung, Haechan, Chenle, and Renjun.

Jaemin gives soft dom energy, like he’s rough but he’d also praise you and tell you that you’re doing a good job for him. He seems like he gets enjoyment out of you being embarrassed, covering your face, or doing anything that makes you look smaller than him. He seems like the type to have a size kink as well, so if you even utter the words “so big.” Or “too big.” He gets so turned on and will immediately tease you, he’ll ask you in soft coo’s if it feels good—telling you to take it as he thrusts into you with powerful movements. Luckily he’s not cruel enough to be so deep or so rough that he’ll bruise your cervix but it’s happened once or twice before. But like I said he gives soft dom energy, I just know that immediately after he’s clinging to you and kissing your face all over. “Oh baby you did such a good job!” He’s right back to giving you adorable words of encouragement while cleaning you up as you lie there in shambles.

Jeno seems like he’d be the most dominant but I beg to differ, he’s definitely a service dom. He wants to do anything to get you off but he’s not submissive, tell him where you want him to touch, tell him you want him to eat you out, ask him to finger you—your strong puppy boyfriend is there to please you right away “Like that baby? Does it feel good? Right there?” . Sometimes he’s a little strict on what he will and won’t do, once you asked him to fuck you in the bathroom of the restaurant you were in and he told you no three times before he basically dragged you there and fucked you like a wild man. But in general Jeno likes to be gentle with you, when he’s eating you out or fingering you he loves getting genuine reactions—he compliments you as he gives you soft kisses on your thighs with his fingers deep inside of you. When he fucks you (if he’s not feeling especially feral or punishing you.) he holds you close, he’ll hold your body tightly as his thick cock slides in and out of you—his praises are quiet and accompanied by gentle kisses all over your neck. He’s really into the sounds you make so he fucks you like he’s dying to hear you say his name. “Good girl. Good good girl..my pretty baby…pretty princess…say-say my name…say my name.” His words are both soft yet aggressive, and when he cums inside of you he holds you so tight you might pop.

Mark also gives soft dom energy, he’s more of a playful dom. He likes to keep things mostly vanilla and lead you calmly, he loves guided masturbation and he especially loves it when you touch yourself as if he’s not there. He’ll praise with in a low and steady voice, telling you to keep the same slow pace as you move your fingers in and out of you. it’s absolutely agonizing but the way he talks to you makes your whole body throb with desire. “Just like that baby, keep your eyes on me…now move your hand…just like that baby, that’s right…good girl.” He’s so good at praise, it’s literally insane how good he is at using his words—he’s almost too good. The moment he notices you getting impatient he starts teasing you, he’ll tell you to beg for him and trust if you don’t beg enough he’ll tell you to do it with more passion. “No no no baby, say it like you mean it; say please, please fuck me Mark.” The moment you give him what he wants he’ll fuck you like his life depends on it. You feel like you’re floating away from how good his stroke game is, while he’s fucking you he’s still talking to you—telling you how good you feel around him, how pretty you are and how much he loves fucking you.

Jisung is definitely more of a hard dom but he could pass as a switch but it’s only because hes extremely likely fuck himself dumb. Jisung is really really into seeing you beg, cry, cum, shake, scream—anything that indicates pleasure (or pain hes close to that line.) makes him go crazy. He absolutely loves to degrade you but with a healthy mixture of praise too, “You’re so pretty baby, my pretty girl…my pretty slut. Did my voice make you that horny? Did my slutty girl go dumb already?” He’s such a dirty talker, especially when you lose it. His fingers are enough to have you empty headed and desperate, his long slender fingers fuck you so good; but they also only make you want him more. Every whiny call of his name makes him sicker than the last. “Sung? Sungie? Jisung? What’s wrong baby? Is it too much? Are you trying to tell me that it’s too much?” It’s like his fingers shut your brain off through your pussy, and when he finally fucks you it’s so rough—he loves to kiss you while he’s deep inside of you, something about it turns him on so much more. And of course he has to cum inside of you, he just loves how it feels.

Haechan is more of a switch, a bratty one too. He enjoys doing things that’ll piss you off, if he’s feeling more dominate that day he’ll edge you for hours. He’s so set on seeing you cry and beg, if he’s fingering you and he notices you getting close he’ll stop right before you finish—he’ll do this for so long until you finally break. “You look so cute baby, are you gonna cry? Hm? You gonna cry baby?” He loves teasing you, he gets off to the way you whimper and call his name. “Hyuck? D-Do…you look so cute when you beg.” When he fucks you he absolutely loves to make you look at him; seeing your eyes roll as you struggle to keep them open makes his toes curl. But when he’s submissive, the shoe is completely on the other foot. He’s so sensitive, if you touch his nipples even a little his body flinches. “You’re so cute like this Hyuck…” When you praise him he melts into such a mess, his voice cracks as you ride him—he’s so sensitive, he can hardly even speak from the feeling of your walls around him. You’re so warm, so wet, and he fits so perfectly inside of you. He gets so drunk on you when he’s being subby, and when he cums he has to hold you and have your body as close to his as possible.

Chenle is also a bratty switch, when hes subbing he’s so difficult and disobedient and when he’s a dom he’s so cruel. “You look so pretty on your knees baby, do you think you’ve earned it yet?” He’ll tease you when you’re sucking his dick, complimenting how pretty your lips look around his cock and pulling your hair as you look him in his eyes. When he fucks you he’s so vocal and so rough, biting, scratching, hair pulling—he likes it all. Of course he has to cum inside of you, he fucks you as deep as humanly possible and when he’s close he’ll tease you about how he’s going to get your pregnant one of these times. “You ready to have my baby?” He’s such a kinky fuck. But when he’s subbing…it’s like what he did to you is only a projection of what he wants. Slap him, bite him, pull his hair and degrade him; sit on his face and make him eat you out till his jaw locks. “You’re such a good boy for me.” Even the most basic praise in between humiliating him will reduce him to a pathetic and desperate animal in heat. When you’ve finally had your fill of him eating you out and decide that he’s worthy of fucking you he’s so overstimulated that he can’t even speak; all that comes out of his mouth is gibberish. But even in that state he can still beg to cum inside of you—and if he’s been good enough you’ll let him.

Renjun gives me model sub energy, like he wants you to treat him like a prince—buy him sexy outfits to wear, worship his body, and spoil him with kisses and pleasure. He loves it when you suck his dick, he gets off to the feeling of your lips and tongue before he gets to fuck you—and of course it’s his right to fuck you; he’s your spoiled baby after all. “Mhmm…just like that, it feels so good.” His moans are so pretty, it’s such a show when fucking him—the way his back arches and how his heavy dick throbs and twitches is so lewd and beautiful. By the time he’s inside of you he’s already cum three times, but he can last for another because it means he finally gets to be deep inside of you. When he’s on top his stroke game is amazing, it’s like his brain has moved to his dick from how perfectly he fucks you. His lips are red and kiss swollen and his entire face is flushed—when you get on top you can fully appreciate how beautiful his face looks when you please him. “S-So good…” his voice drifts off as his eyes roll, his head falls back into the pillows and he goes silent from how good you feel. When he finally cums he gasps for air and looks you right in your eyes—he loves to look at you and watch your face as he cums, you’re just so pretty and he loves you so much; he has to burn the image of you in his mind as he cums inside of you.

[cassandracain52]

Reverse trope

where instead of the Bats forgetting that they’re adopted (something actual adoptees do on occasion and is hilarious) they forget that some of them *cough Damian cough* aren’t

_______

Jason in the heat of a probably ridiculous argument: Yeah well YOU’RE adopted!

Tim just as invested in said argument: So are YOU! We all are!

Damian who had previously been quietly watching this unfold while he drank his tea: Actually I’m not

Tim and Jason who didn’t realize he was there but are already DoneTM: …… Damian continuing to sip his tea entirely unbothered: :)

Damian: Because I’m not an orphan-

Jason: ok, yoU KNOW WHAT-

____

or like in their group texts (that we know they have thanks to Nightwing (2016) #79)

*Steph changed the group chat name to “Bruce Wayne’s Personal Orpanage”*

Jason: Really?

Steph: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Steph: It’s the truth Damian: Both my parents are very much alive

Steph: Shhh you don’t count

Cass: Mine too Duke: Technically so are mine

Barbara: I still have a dad so there’s that

Steph: YOU GUYS ARE RUINING THE JOKE

Tim: Stephanie aren’t BOTH of your parents alive???

Steph: KNOW WHAT? FINE

*Steph changed the group chat name to “The Technicality Police”*

Tim: well that’s more accurate at least

Steph: :)

_____

Damian in his 10th argument with Tim of the day: That’s- this is-

Tim in full Antagonizing Big Brother mode: I’m listening

Damian -a Gen Z and best friend to Jon Kent- extremely frustrated: This is such Motherless behavior!

Tim taken aback: [voice cracking] W-what-?

Damian who didn’t mean to say that but doubling down anyway because his bloodline doesn’t believe in admitting mistakes: THIS! This is such Motherless behavior!

The rest of the family who is also motherless: :O

Cass whose been spending way too much time with Meme Queen Stephanie Brown and not involved in the argument but finding it entertaining regardless: [nodding along seriously] Facts

Tim: [visibly betrayed] CASS WHAT-

A video copy of the interaction gets sent out anonymously to the entire family. Barbara is the prime suspect but there is no proof as of yet (and they will never find any)

Steph, Cass, and Duke continue to respond “Motherless behavior” everytime one of the bats does something they deem questionable/insane. It is said often

It only stops when one night in the middle of patrol. Batman is in full Dark Knight mode (possibly in the middle of threatening someone) and descends from the ceiling into the middle of a warehouse drug deal, dark cape billowing out behind him-

and Steph just automatically whispers “Motherless behavior” forgetting her com was still very much on

She immediately realizes what she said and frantically apologizes but it’s too late.

Bruce just- Blue Screens. Completely stunned into silence

Dick -who was unfortunate enough to be the one teamed up with Batman tonight- is fighting for his life to choke back his laughter

Jason doesn’t even try to stop his and has collapsed to his knees from lack of air from how hard he’s laughing. Cass try’s half heartedly patting his back to help to no avail

The criminals are terrified into surrender from The Red Hood just laughing hysterically at seemingly nothing while Batman just Stands There

Damian ends up being the only one still functioning enough to continue arresting everyone, though he is privately amused and strangely proud

Tim and Barbara have saved both the com recordings and cowl footage to at least three different servers and sent it to absolutely everyone before Batman even recovers

Duke finds out second hand the next morning and is furious he missed the chance to see it in person. He declares he is moving to the nightshift so it doesn’t happen again. (He is all talk and goes to bed by 9 pm)

Bruce bans the phrase for life and promises swift and server punishment to anyone who dares to use it again

[myth1cs]

Completing the mission (Myoui Mina x M!Reader)

Even more smut and I'm still sorry for it.

Word Count: 2067

Mina was arriving at a party and preparing to carry out the mission

Her boss Bangchan has set her on an important mission to steal important documents from Y/N the host of the party.

Mina was an agent for hire. She didn't know the specifics for why Bangchan wanted her to steal those documents but as long as she was getting paid she could care less. She just needed to complete the mission whatever the cost.

Mina was struggling in her home life. It was hard to pay the bills and buy enough food to feed herself. So she decided to become an agent for hire, selling her services for a price. An expensive price, after all she was good at her job, she couldn't sell her skills for nothing after all.

This party was her best chance to steal the documents. If she failed then she wouldn't get paid and surely would be punished, the pressure was on.

As she was arriving at the door to enter the party she pulled out the invitation Bangchan gave her. Y/N sent Bangchan an invitation but he gave it to Mina and texted Y/N he would send his secretary in his place because he felt sick and wouldn't be able to attend.

Y/N believed Bangchan as he didn't think Bangchan had a reason to lie to him.

The guard at the door accepted Mina's invitation and let her in. Her mission had officially begun. As she walked in she saw some of the biggest CEO's from the biggest companies in the country. She felt a bit tense but she composed herself and started walking around to get a basic layout of Y/N's house.

As Mina walked through the house suddenly heard someone call her name.

"Hey I don't recognize you"

Mina turned around and she saw him the host of the party Y/N.

"I'm Bangchans secretary Mina he sent you a message telling you he would send me on his behalf." as Mina said this she noticed Y/N was trying to subtly scan her body. He didn't do a good job at it as Mina quickly caught him but she decided to stay quiet about it.

"Well Mina let me show you around it would be rude not to." Y/N said as he held his hand out to Mina. She was just trying to complete her mission and get out as quickly as possible but having a good relationship with Y/N could help lower her suspicion as she wasn't sure Y/N trusted her.

"Yeah sure." Mina said as she grabbed Y/N's hand.

Y/N walked her around his house introducing her to the other guests and asking her questions about her job.

Eventually Y/N took Mina to his winery. "Do you care for a drink Mina?" Y/N asked while grabbing a bottle.

"I could go for a drink but please let me fill your drink" Mina said trying to grab the bottle from Y/N's hands.

"Oh no let me I am your host after all, I should be the one treating my guests" Y/N said as he pulled the bottle away.

Mina was getting nervous, her original plan was to put sleeping pills into Y/N's drink so she could find the code to Y/N's safe and steal the documents without worrying about getting caught. She couldn't let Y/N serve the drinks.

"No really I insist" Mina said with a little more force which slightly shocked Y/N. He didn't know Mina could be so intense.

Y/N handed Mina the bottle "Well if you insist then I guess I won't stop you." He said while being a little scared of Mina.

"Hey Y/N could you bring some ice I like having my alcohol with ice" Mina didn't actually like her alcohol with ice she just needed an excuse to get Y/N out of the room.

"Sure I don't mind" Y/N said as he left the room. As soon as Y/N was out of sight she quickly grabbed the cups and started pouring the alcohol in them. Then she grabbed the pills and crunched them up and dropped them into Y/N's cup.

She quickly went to the bathroom and flushed the bottle that the pills were held in into the toilet.

When she got back she saw Y/N was already their.

"Where did you go Mina? You weren't here when I got back."

"I was just using the restroom" Mina quickly responded.

Y/N looked at her with a hint of doubt in his eyes but he just brushed it off.

Y/N picked up a glass and handed it to Mina. "Well let's drink up Mina and say cheers on behalf of Bangchan who couldn't make it today." Y/N said while smiling at her.

Mina grabbed the drink and did a toast with Y/N.

She started drinking her cup while carefully watching Y/N waiting to see any hints of sleepiness in him. She decided to stay near Y/N until she saw any signs of him getting tired.

Some time has passed and the party is still ongoing yet. She was sitting at a table in the corner of a room with Y/N and they've been talking this whole time and yet Mina hasn't seen any signs of tiredness from Y/N. She could have sworn the pills were supposed to take effect by now so what gives?

As Mina started thinking of why Y/N hasn't shown any signs of sleepiness she suddenly had a feeling not of tiredness but of something else.

She was getting horney.

She didn't understand why even if she did accidentally drink the cup she made for Y/N she should be getting sleepy not horney. But then Mina had a thought.

Before she left for her mission she grabbed a bottle from her drawer but she didn't bother to check the label as most of the pills she keeps are ones to put people to sleep. However she does keep one that holds a different type of pills. An aphrodisiac, she had it in case she ever needed it for a mission but she never actually intended to use it.

Mina realized she grabbed the wrong bottle from her drawer and now she was in big trouble. She thought she failed the mission since she was getting to friendly with Y/N earlier he would definitely notice if she was gone for a prolonged period of time and get suspicious.

But she couldn't admit defeat that easily she had to find a different way. As she started to think of something she could do she started to rub her thighs together to get some tension. Y/N kept talking to her about ... well who knows what she wasn't listening to him after all her mind was filled with panic, lust, and thoughts of how to get out of this situation.

"Mina are you okay? I feel like my words are going in one ear and leaving the other" Y/N said slightly annoyed that Mina wasn't paying attention to him.

"Uhm~ yeah I'm just ... very deep in thought" Mina said while feeling her face getting hotter. She needed something to relieve herself she couldn't focus on her mission until she felt relief.

"Mina if you need to lay down you can-" Before Y/N could finish his sentence he was cut off.

"Y/N show me to a room" Mina said in a desperate voice.

"O-okay Mina calm down" Y/N said a little confused on why Mina sounded so needy.

Y/N grabbed Minas hand and walked her to the guest bedroom. Mina was trying her best to hold urges but she was at her limit. Eventually they got to the guest bedroom and Y/N closed the door behind them.

"Well you can stay in here unt-" Y/N was quickly cut off by Mina who latched her lips onto his.

Y/N was shocked by the sudden move by Mina and pulled her off of him. "Mina what are you-"

Mina locked the door and looked at Y/N with lust in her eyes. "Y/N I saw you checking me out earlier, please I need you right now"

Y/N pulled Mina to him and kissed her back. Y/N's hands roamed Minas body. Y/N's hands reached down and squeezed Mina's butt. Mina moaned into Y/N's mouth.

"Ahh~ Fuck" Mina kept making noise under Y/N's touch. Their hands were roaming each other's bodies while lustfully kissing each other.

Mina was getting a little needy. She needed more than Y/N's touch. "Y/N get this dress off me" Mina said with urgency in her voice.

Y/N started to quickly take Mina's dress off exposing her breasts and pussy to the cold air.

Y/N put one hand on one of Mina's breasts and another on Mina's butt. Mina squirmed and she couldn't take it. "Y/N please touch me where I most need it"

Y/N liked seeing Mina so needy and he wasn't keen on giving Mina what she wanted so quickly.

Y/N pinched Mina's nipple and kissed her more roughly. "Now now Mina were getting a little too needy." As he said this he could see slight annoyance in Mina. "Oh shut up and put your dick in me"

Y/N picked Mina up and put her on the bed. "Such a dirty mouth you have Mina, what would Bangchan think if he heard such words coming from his secretary?"

"Oh shut up Y/N" Mina said with a mix of annoyance and neediness. She grabbed Y/N's hand and put it up to her pussy.

While Y/N did want to tease Mina, when he felt the warmth of Mina's pussy he lost all his will to continue teasing her and gave in.

Y/N fingered Mina's pussy in quick manner not letting Mina adjust to his fingers. "OH SHIT" Mina yelled but she quickly covered her mouth to muffle it. "Your so loud Mina do you want everyone to know how your getting fucked?"

Mina couldn't respond as she was too focused on the mix of pain and pleasure she was receiving. Y/N curled his fingers in Mina and it sent her closer to release. "I'm close"

When Y/N heard that he immediately pulled his fingers out. Mina whined when she felt his fingers leave as she was close to cumming. "Y/N you fucking bitch" Mina said while panting.

Y/N ignored Mina and took off his pants revealing his dick which was already hard. Mina gasped, she knew what was about to happen. "Y/N wait your not wearing any-"

Y/N ignored Mina's plea and shoved his dick in Mina. Mina almost let out a loud scream but quickly covered her mouth.

For the next few minutes Y/N pumped his dick in and out of Mina. Every now and then they would engage in a lustful kiss or put their hands on each other.

Eventually Y/N was getting at his limit. "Mina I'm going to cum" Y/N said feeling exhausted.

"Let me swallow your cum" Mina said. She really didn't want to but she needed a reason to not let Y/N cum in her.

Y/N got a few final pumps in before he exited Mina's warm and tight pussy. Mina sat up and took Y/N's dick in her mouth and started sucking. Not long after Y/N came in Mina's mouth.

After coming off from such a high Y/N got exhausted and fell asleep on the bed.

Mina swallowed the thick cum. She really didn't think Y/N would have so much cum in him. She got up and got herself clean with the tissues which were next to the bed.

Mina put on her dress and put perfume on her to get the smell of sex off of her.

She took this chance to go to Y/N's room to look for the code to the safe. She eventually found the code and typed it into the safe.

Mina left the party with the documents in hand. She got her phone and called Bangchan.

"I completed the mission"

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

"Wow myth1cs you really like yapping huh?"

Yes.

Also don't expect this type of schedule this is a rare case of me actually having motivation.

[no-144444]

mistakes and miscalculations- c.leclerc

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pairing: charles leclerc x fem! reader

summary: a fight and a mistake leads to something worse.

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You hadn’t had a worse day in months, no- years. Fuck this. Work was a mess, everyone was blaming you for something you didn’t do, and you and Charles weren’t exactly communicating. He’d said something a few days earlier, something about you not having as hard a job as him. Which, granted, was true. He was a racecar driver, you worked in marketing, but it didn’t mean that your work was any less important. Hell, work was where you two had met. You were his publicist when you’d started dating. So yes, it rubbed you the wrong way and you’d decided to sleep on the couch instead of being with him. He didn’t take kindly to that, and hadn’t spoken a word to you in 4 days. Yay. He texted you, small messages consisting of “I got here safe” or “sleep tight  xxx” and things like that. But Friday nights were your date night, even when it was a race weekend. But 8pm came and went and there was no call on your phone. 

Oh. 

It was fine. You didn’t need to talk to him. Did you miss him greatly? Yes. Were you over the entire argument? Yes. Was he? Evidently not. 

You lay in bed awake for a few hours as you thought over everything. Maybe you had been too harsh, he was stressed, especially since he was unsure about the strategy the team had given him for the weekend ahead. But… he didn’t need to be so mean about things. Your work was important, and to have him just brush it off like that, in the way he did, when all you were trying to do was express how overworked you were, it all made you feel… unheard. It wasn’t a nice feeling.

Your phone started ringing at 4am in Monaco, meaning it was 9pm in Austin. You picked it up without looking, just hoping it wasn’t something important.

“Y/n?” It was Charles. “I know it’s early, my love.”

“Charles?” You yawned. “I thought you were still and at me.”

He sighed. “I thought I was, but then I realised I just felt guilty for saying what I did, and not talking to you was more a punishment for myself. I’m sorry about what I said, and what I didn’t say.”

You sighed, lying. “It’s fine Charles.”

You were still not over the fight, it had cut you deep, what he had said. “Your job doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, why is your boss getting so worked up about you not coming to Austin?”

It broke your heart. Charles had always been so supportive, but the moment he got stressed, you were suddenly not important. Right. 

“I’m sorry I missed date night,” he added sheepishly. You hadn’t missed that in 8 months. He broke the streak. 

“I waited for an hour and a half,” you chuckled sadly. “Even then I couldn’t sleep.”

He let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Good luck tomorrow,” you sighed. “I’ll be rooting for you from Monaco.”

“My love?-“

“Oh and tell Arthur ‘good luck’ too, and sorry that I couldn’t be there in person for his debut. I’m just swamped with my unimportant work over here.”

And with that you hung up the phone, breaking your 1 year streak of always saying ‘sleep tight’ at the end of a phone call. You were irritated, irritated due to the nerve he had to call you like that. Sometimes you wondered if all the praise he got went too far to his head and gave him a  superiority complex, but another part of you just knew that was your irritation getting the better of you. 

You went back to sleep, far too tired to think about what you’d just done. 

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

���She hung up,” he sighed. “She hung up without saying goodbye.”

“Are you two breaking up?” Arthur questioned, sitting on his older brother's bed as he slowly fell apart. He’d never not spoken to you for this long, it was becoming embarrassing how upset he was. How could he let this happen? You were one of the best things in his life, if not the best thing. “If you are, I do not think I would recover.”

Charles scoffed. “We are not breaking up,” he took a deep breath. “We are just… arguing. Like adults.”

“You called her job unimportant! That’s a childish thing to say,” Ollie shrugged. Kimi nodded his head, agreeing. 

“And a pretty mean thing to say,” Kimi added. “Especially when her job is so important to you.”

Charles groaned. “I know I messed up!” He groaned again. “I just need to figure out a way to get her to forgive me.”

“Grand gesture! Like in the movies!” Kimi cheered, Arthur and Ollie agreeing. “Bring her to the race and give her a holiday from work!”

Charles thought about it for a moment. You did need a break, there was no doubt about it.  “That’s not a terrible idea.”

“Exactly!” Arthur smiled. “Do that, and she’ll love you again!”

Charles smiled. “I’ll call her now-“

“No! You have to make it like… an emergency! And then she’ll rush here and you’ll have a date set up,” Ollie thought as the other boys nodded their heads. 

“I feel like she’d get stressed-“ Charles said but Ollie was already busy thinking about ways to get you to Austin.

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“What Ollie?” You answered your phone as you drew up yet another plan for the marketing strategy your boss had already made you redo twice, 

“Thank god you answered!” Ollie sighed a sigh of relief. “Charles is broken up about your break up, we’ve tried everything-“

“What?” You gasped. You and Charles hadn’t broken up, had you? No. Neither of you wanted to break up, right? You didn’t. Did he? “We didn’t break up.”

“We tried to tell him that, but he doesn’t believe us. He thinks you blocked him. Can you… come to Austin? He doesn’t think he’ll drive in this state, he’s devastated.”

You sighed. “I’ll book a flight for tonight. See you soon.”

“Thanks Y/n.”

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

As far as a hellish week goes, that must’ve been the worst in your life. Shitty work week, Charles and you fighting, then the flight to Austin Texas that you barely got on because of course your boarding pass wouldn’t print. 

You weren’t over the fight, at all, but you and Charles definitely weren’t breaking up. You’d never want that, no matter how annoyed you were. If it took a flight from Monaco to Austin in the middle of an argument, at the end of a shitty week to prove your love, well that’s what you had to do. 

You sat, staring at your battery as it slowly dwindled away and your music played on, but it sadly was not enough to drown out the noise of the sobbing baby beside you. Maybe you should’ve let Charles buy you the noise-cancelling headphones he was going to get you as a ‘just-because’ present, instead of the wired headphones you’ve had since you were in college, that had finally decided to die on you, mid-flight. You weren’t going to admit he was right when he said “those things will break on you at the worst time!”, you were just going to thank him when he eventually came home with them after a race, probably being gifted them by some random company. Your apartment had started to look more and more like a shop, rather than a house, it was another major pressure point of your relationship. It drove you crazy, the disorganisation and the constant influx of things that you two could never keep up with, and Charles didn’t seem to be too bothered by it. That had made its way into the fight too. God, what hadn’t? 

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

Touching down in Austin was as glamorous as one would imagine. You were tired, hungry (you couldn’t stomach aeroplane food), and you were pissed off. Why did this have to happen this week? The one week you were just looking forward to being alone all weekend. 

You adored Charles, but sometimes we all need some alone time, and this weekend was going to be that. You needed a break from being yourself, for being a chief marketing officer, and from being Charles Leclerc’s girlfriend. You just needed a moment of silence, was that too much to ask for? 

You met Arthur outside the airport, and he wrapped you up in a hug as he smiled, happy you’d made it. 

“Hey Arth,” you sighed, exhausted. 

“Hey Y/n,” he smiled. “Thank you for coming, he really needs you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you nodded. “Let’s go, I’m exhausted.”

You fell asleep in the car on the way to the track, beyond tired from your travels. You woke up about a minute before Arthur pulled into the Ferrari hospitality, and you were practically a zombie when you grabbed your bags and followed Arthur up to Charles’s room. 

“Baby?” You asked, eyes closed from exhaustion. You were barely standing up, shocked you were even still awake. 

“Is that you?” Charles’s voice rang through your ears. 

“Yeah baby, open the door,” you smiled lazily. You missed him. It was hard not to. 

The door swung open to reveal… a candle-lit dinner and Charles? 

What the fuck? 

“Baby!” He cheered, pulling you into him, pressing kisses to your cheek and neck. “Surprise!”

You didn’t answer. No way he made you fly all the way to Austin, faked thinking you two were breaking up, and all for a fucking dinner? No way. This was a joke. This was some sick and twisted joke. 

“Baby?” His smile slightly faded. “Are you ok?” 

You couldn’t stop it. Exhaustion, stress, anxiety, anger, everything. It all tipped over and you started crying. In his arms. You buried your face in his shoulder and his arms wrapped around you in an instant, closing the door to give you two some privacy. 

“Baby,” he cooed. “What’s wrong?”

And that was the last straw. What was wrong?

You pushed him off, wiping your eyes as any and all exhaustion was replaced with adrenaline. 

“What’s wrong?” You cried, a twisted smile on your face. “What’s wrong so that my boyfriend is psychotic and decided it would be a great idea to make me think that we were breaking up and making me fly to fucking Austin for a dinner. Charles. That’s my fucking problem. The same boyfriend that called my job unimportant when I was trying to tell him that I was beyond stressed about it, my headphones broke on the flight, a baby was crying beside me, and I’m exhausted!” You sobbed. 

He looked down, disappointed with his own actions. He knew how this would go, and yet he let 3 teenagers talk him into it. How stupid was he?

“And the worst part is,” you continued. “Is that I’m not even fucking mad at you! Because I’m just happy that I’m not being broken up with! Because I fucking love you!” 

Oh. Oh. Oh. 

You loved him. And he’d pulled this. And you said it for the first time. And he’d stressed you out more. 

“Baby please-“ he tried to take your hand, but you just slumped against him. 

“I’m sorry I slept on the couch, I’ll never do it again. Just please don’t do this to get my attention. You always have my attention.” you sniffled. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he smiled, far too chipper for this specific moment. “You’re tired, let’s talk about this in the morning, yeah?”

You nodded and let him lead you to his bed. 

You fell asleep almost instantly and he smiled. At least you two were talking. At least you two were in the same bed. At least you two were in love. 

“My love,” he whispered, laying beside you. “I love you.”

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

When you woke up the next morning and despite the obvious tension, you were happy to be Charles’s arms. 

“Morning,” he pressed a kiss to your neck. 

“Morning,” you rolled over, out of his grasp to look at the clock. 

He sighed, crawling towards you. “Can we talk about it?”

“About what?” you turned to him. “The fight? The stunt you pulled yesterday? Our fake break up?”

He scoffed. “I am not the only one at fault here,” he argued. “Our fight is not only my fault.”

You sighed, placing your head in your hands. “I know that. And I’m exhausted, so let's just go our separate ways for the weekend and talk about it after, ok?”

He nodded. “But you’ll still be here, right? You’re not going back home?”

“Not until you are,” you sighed, getting up. 

Charles watched as you made your way to the bathroom, stretching as you went. Sometimes, it hit him hard how gorgeous you are, this was one of those times, and he was hit very, very hard. 

“Baby?” he called out.

You poked your head out. “Yeah?”

“Come here,” he gestured for you to come closer, and was a little surprised when you obliged. He sat you on his lap and held you close, resting his head in your neck. “I’m sorry. I was stupid and I’m sorry.”

You nodded, letting go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Ok.”

“And I know what I said was wrong, your job is super important, because we met here, and also because you put your heart into your work. I’m sorry.”

You ran your hands through his hair, a conflicted look on your face. “I’m sorry I brought other things into the fight and slept on the couch.”

You felt him smile as he pressed a kiss to your neck. “And I love you, and I don't want to fight anymore.”

You chuckled. “Me neither.”

He was silent for a minute, just pressing soft, comforting kisses to your neck as he enjoyed having you near him. “So are we ok?”

“We aren’t 100% ok, but we’re getting there,” you explained, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “There’s probably more things we should talk about, but maybe when you don’t have a Gran Prix in a matter of hours? And I love you too.”

His grin widened, and he couldn’t resist pulling you down to properly kiss you for the first time in days.

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

navigation for my blog :)

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Can you write one about were Logan x female reader x oscar or Lando x female reader x Oscar or Logan x Female reader x oscar x lando

Where They are at a afterparty for a race and since y/n was being a needy and bratty all race week and weekend long before they went to the after party some one of the 2-3 drivers had put a vibrator up her ass and at the party since she was still acting needy and bratty they started to turn up the power of the vibrator as they keep teasing her until she is on the edge about to cum and they stop telling her it’s her punishment for taking bratty all week and race weekend long as she started to beg and plead to let herself finish, they all take a car home to there shared apartment and but the vibrator at max power again and continue this in their room were they end up have unprotected sex, use rope and a mouth gag, blindfold, call her dirty names and say dirtier things to her or in her ear and after for aftercare they take super good care of her

Oscar is a Dom and in charge Lando and Logan can we doms or switchs, y/n is a sub

I'm actually gnawing at the bars of my enclosure right now, I love you anonymous 😘🫣.

You Shouldn't Have Done That

Oscar Piastri x Fem!Reader x Logan Sargeant x Lando Norris

I hope I did you justice (for gotham)

Warnings: SMUT, Bondage, Vibrators, Overstimulation, Bratty Y/N, Sucker Logan, Mean Lando, MEANER Oscar, Crying, Slapping, Anal, Triple Penetration, probably more but I forgot

F1 Masterlist

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

Instagram

part 2

A knock at the door is what drew my attention away from my phone that I'd been staring at for the last 15 minutes reading a few of these 'fan fictions' about my boyfriends that people were DMing me. Apparently somebody with no life named 'logansargeantsbabymom' has been making shit smut and posting it on Tumblr.

"Baby, race is about to start" I could recognize that beautiful English accent from a mile away.

Normally hearing Lando's incredibly sexy voice would make my bones start jumping in my skin but apparently I'm not the only fucking one because people fantasize about having the filthiest sex with him, write about it, post it on Tumblr and his fans eat it up!!

"I'm coming" I said nonchalantly as I got off the sofa that Lando had in his drivers room.

Lando held the door open for me as I brushed past him making my way to the back of the garage and then out of it. I didn't want to see him.

"What's wrong with her?" Oscar says as he came up from behind Lando

"I've got no clue but if she keeps it up I'm fucking it out of her" Lando shrugged before putting his helmet on

One thing about me is that I will make sure I am the one that puts on all three of my boyfriends helmets on them. I love to go up on my tippy toes to bite the tip of their nose before placing a kiss on it then the helmet on them. I've always done it even if we had gotten into the biggest argument on planet earth but right now, that's the last thing I wanted to do for Lando. I couldn't do it for Oscar either because then I'd fell bad for doing our normal race day tradition on Oscar and then just dipping and leaving Lando alone.

I also didn't want to deal with the consequences of "favoriting" Logan if I only did it for him so I skipped out on the tradition as a whole. The race was about to start in 10 minutes which means the drivers are all about to or already in their car and getting ready to get out on the track. I couldn't go back into the McLaren garage or I'd have to face two of the three boyfriends I'd just pissed off and I couldn't go to the Williams garage because they probably already texted Logan. So I went to the next best place: The Mercedes Garage.

I was forbidden to go in the Mercedes garage alone because apparently Lewis has a 'thing' for me, which wouldn't surprise me because I'm hot.

"Hey Y/N, what're you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be biting your boyfriends' noses?" I knew that cheeky English accent and it belong to the man that I was never to be in a room with alone.

"Lewis! Supposed to? Yes. Am? No, they pissed me off so I'm ignoring them." I shrugged. I really couldn't care less how they were going to react to me breaking tradition.

"Isn't that just going to get you in trouble?" Lewis said cautiously

"Not as much trouble I'll be in if they find out I was here with you alone." I chuckled as I shrugged.

I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket like crazy which caused me to whip it out and see what the fuck was going on.

Fantastic 4

Fav Butt Plug: I swear to the heavens above Y/N if this girl whose on the screen right now is you in the Mercedes garage with Lewis ALONE, I'm having your ass tonight. Oscunt: I want to know what the fuck has you all pissed at Lando but I don't like your little stunt of ignoring ME. Me: Stalkers Logie: Baby, why didn't you come to put my helmet on? Fav Butt Plug: You have one more time to piss me off Y/N.

"Lewis do you want to help me with something real quick?" The idea I had in mind was sure to make the tabloids right away and send the internet into a frenzy

"I don't like the general direction of where your idea's go." I waved a hand at him

"Let me put your helmet on you, I promise there will be no kissing" I looked at the clock, Lewis had 5 minutes before he was to be getting on the track and with a quick nod of his head I took the helmet out of his hands before securing it on his head before giving him a big smile and a bear hug before he was ushered into his car.

As I was exiting the Mercedes garage, I didn't know where I was going to go. Everyone is still in their respective garages and I'm NOT facing my boyfriends right now. Shortly after my encounter with

Fantastic 4 Fav Butt Plug: expect 10 orgasms MINIMUM tonight. Oscunt: None of which from me so don't ask. Logie: Did I do something baby? Why did you put Lewis' helmet on and not mine? Oscunt: Logan, she's being a brat. She didn't put mine or Lando's helmets on. Logie: I'm sorry for whatever I did to you, my sweet girl Oscunt: She acts this way because you give into her every ask, this is your fault Logan. I hope you crash. Logie: first of all, don't say that because I still don't have a seat for next season. Secondly, I do give into her every word because she's my pillow princess. Me: At least someone appreciates me, I love you Logan Logie: I love you more. Oscunt: She was never spoiled or a brat until you came along Logan, maybe you deserved to get punished alongside your dear 'pillow princess'. Me: Don't you dipshits (not you Logan) have a race? Stop texting me and drive.

————————

And drive is exactly what they did because Lando came in 1st, Oscar 3rd and Logan 4th.

The race was definitely a hard one with the on and off rain, the wall of champions and the hairpin but somehow they all managed it and they did it well.

Usually when one of my boyfriends has a good race weekend the victory sex is amazing but all 3 of them placed in the top 4? I don’t think I’m getting ANY rest tonight.

I stood by the scale so I could congratulate 2 of my boyfriends for their victory podiums but after they were congratulated by their team and they recorded their weights, they walked right past me.

I felt a sharp pain in my heart at their act but then I realized why they did what they did, I was being a brat before the race but if they wanna act like that, I will one up them.

I turned my head to the man who was currently getting his weight recorded and the man who came in second. It also happens to be the same man who I’m not allowed to be alone with.

“LEWIS!! CONGRATULATIONS!” I screamed as I hugged him, making sure to make the hug last a little longer than a typical ‘friend’ hug would last while also swaying us side to side.

"Y/N! Thank you, thank you. Are you coming to the after party, we already rented out the whole bar?" There was a little sparkle in his eyes that gave me an idea.

A sly smirk plastered itself on my face "Of course, I wouldn't miss it for the world, especially if you're going to be there!" I placed a quick kiss on his cheek before placing my hand where I had just placed the kiss.

"Y/N!!" It was a loud and angry yell that should've scared me but it did the exact opposite, it turned me on.

I turned to face the person the voice belonged to, to see Lando with the meanest glare I've ever seen on his face. I gave a little nod goodbye to Lewis before making my way to Lando.

"Hey my handsome winner" I said when I got close enough as I ran my hand through his thick and messy curls, it didn't last long though because he grabbed my wrist and dragged me with him to his drivers room.

When we got there he opened the door and shoved me inside where I was met with my other two boyfriends who looked less than pleased with me. Lando slammed the door shut which caused me to jump and face him.

Lando's face didn't shift a bit from his angry demeanor. "Oh, is bunny scared? Surprised she can act any other way that isn't bratty" I heard a voice from behind me say as a chest was up pressed against my back and felt the back of a hand trace the side of my face before gripping the flesh of my throat.

"Oscar" it came out as a choked groan

I saw Logan from the corner of my eyes fishing something out of a box that Lando had stowed away behind the sofa before he made his way over to us. Oscar still had his hand on my throat but he ushered me towards the massage bed Lando has before aggressively bending me over on it which caused me to let out a groan. I could hear Logan's footsteps coming closer to where Lando was before handing him a pink object and I felt Oscar's hand at the hem of my leggings before yanking them down along with my panties.

At first Oscar was just playing with the flesh of my ass and occasionally leaving harsh slaps on it saying things like "You asked for this", "take this part of your punishment like a good girl and maybe I'll tell Lando to go easy on you." I heard Lando whisper something to Oscar and then I felt one more final and harsh slap on my ass before I felt Oscar's hands spread open my ass cheeks and forced his thumb in my tight asshole thrusting it in and out before shoving the Lush lovense vibrator where his thumb once was.

A loud string of moans and curse words left my lips before I felt a pair of lips on mine swallowing my moans. When he pulled away, I opened my eyes to see my favorite American right there looking at me with sympathetic eyes. Logan never liked when I got punished and had to deal with all the roughness Lando and Oscar put me through, he only liked soft, vanilla sex most of the time.

"It's okay baby, just be good" Logan said before he placed a soft and tender kiss on my lips.

Oscar's rough hands yanked me back into a standing position and Lando bent over to lift my leggings back up and over my waist before lightly slapping my cheek

"This is how you're going to the afterparty, don't you even think about cumming until we get home OR unless me or Oscar give you permission." I knew he was going to leave Logan out of giving me permission because he gives me basically everything I want with just a bat of my lashes.

-----

We've only been in this bar/club for less than 30 minutes and I'm already sweating. I'm not sweating because there's a lot of people in here all grinding against each other, no I'm sweating because Lando keeps turning the vibrator on the fastest setting and letting it go just until I'm about to cum before he turns it off denying me any sort of relief and he's done this about 6 times already. I can't do this anymore.

Lando turned the vibrator on full blast and watched as I squirmed in my seat as I was having a conversation with Alex

"Are you okay? You're sweating more than normal right now and you keep fidgeting" Poor Alex, she seemed so concerned

"Yeah I just have to go to the bathroom, I've had to pee for a while now but I didn't want to interrupt your story" It wasn't a total lie, I didn't want to interrupt her story but I didn't have to pee.

"Oh Y/N, go to bathroom, I'll be here!" with that I quickly made my way to the ladies room quickly checking every stall before settling into one and taking the vibrator out of my ass, sighing in relief before wrapping it in toilet paper and tossing it into the bin.

Exiting the stall with a smile on my face, I quickly washed my hands before making my way back to Alex.

"Hey, sorry about that again. I really had to go" I tried to sound sincere, mainly because I was.

Alex finished telling me about her story about how Charles surprised her with a trip to Sydney and all the fun things they did over in the down under when I felt quick and rapid taps on my shoulder, prompting me to look at the man who was tapping me aggressively.

"Baby, we have to go now, Logan just got really sick" My heart dropped and I looked over Lando's shoulder to see Oscar helping Logan out of the bar.

"I'm sorry Alex, I have to go" I didn't wait for her response before I bolted past Lando and out the door.

Much to my surprise when I made it past the bar doors, I saw Logan and Oscar laughing up a storm and having a good time. My mouth hung in shock as I couldn't believe the sight in front of me. I was about to turn around to give Lando a piece of my mind for lying to me and making me cut my conversation short.... AGAIN.

"Lando! How dare you lie-" I couldn't finish my sentence due to Lando holding up his hand signaling me to shut up before pulling his phone out and flipping it.

The sight made my face drop, he was currently showing me the app he has to control my vibrator setting and it was all the way up.

"Bunny, do you know how many times I turned this up tonight?" Lando tilted his head and when I didn't answer he tsked before walking closer to me "I'm not asking you again. Answer me like a good girl and I won't punish you."

"You won't?" he shook his head "I took it out at 6, I don't know how many more times you did it after"

"I turned it up 4 more times after you took it out." I felt a body against my back

"Just wait until we get home for your punishment " Oscar whispered in my ear before slapping my ass so hard I let out a little yelp

"I thought I wasn't getting punished?" I said confused

"No, I said I wasn't punishing you. I said nothing about Oscar" A cocky smirk plastered itself on Lando's insanely hot face and I watched as him and Oscar both got into Lando's McLaren.

I felt a hand on the small of my back and I turned to see Logan, he seemed to have a sympathetic look on his face "I tried to get them to come up with a different type of punishment then what you're getting but they didn't want to hear it. Don't say I didn't try to help you"

Oh god.

----

When we got back to Oscar's apartment, I almost didn't want to go in. I didn't have to have to endure the punishments they had in store for me but Oscar didn't take lightly to that and in 2 seconds flat he threw me over his shoulders and walked me to his room.

Lando had made his way to his room to get what he claimed was 'part of your punishment' while Logan closed the door to the apartment. Oscar had chucked me on the bed before yanking me to the edge of it, holding a hand on my chin forcing me to look at him in the eyes.

"Strip" was all Oscar said. I did as I was told because I already knew I was in for a long night and I didn't want to push Oscar any further.

I started slowly unbuttoning my dress shirt but Oscar didn't like that, he ripped the shirt open sending the buttons flying everywhere. I wanted to yell at him for ruining my favorite shirt but I knew there was going to be no point. When Lando and Logan walked in the room I could tell they also knew that I wouldn't be in the pubic eye for about a week after all three of them were done with me.

Logan made his way around and on the bed to be right behind me "These tits, oh my gosh. You're going to be the death of me" Logan mumbled into the crook of my neck as his hands made their way around my body to grope my chest.

"I can't wait to burry my cock in her tight little ass" Lando said as he sat on the bed beside me and started to kiss my shoulder. I let out a string of moans as I had two pairs of lips kissing and sucking on two different parts of my body

"Wanna tell me what made you so upset earlier that caused you to be bratty all day today? Hmm?" Lando said as his hand snaked its way down my stomach and under the elastic of my leggings.

"Let's take these off, yeah?" Oscar said as he yanked them off my body.

My legs instinctively opened to allow Lando more access to where I ached for him the most.

"I saw- oh my gosh Lando, please" I was cut off my Lando having inserted two digits into my pussy, thrusting them in and out while his thumb started rubbing circles on my clit.

"I believe Lando asked you a question Bunny" Oscar said as he reached his hands around my body to unclasp my bra.

His one hand immediately found my breast and started circling my nipples as Logan moved to the opposite side of him to attach his mouth to my other breast, swirling his tongue around the bud of my nipple.

"I saw people fantasize about fucking you. All of you" it sounded pathetic and hypocritical coming from me because I did the exact same thing before I got with all three of them.

"Bunny, we only have eyes for you." Lando said as he kiss the tip of my nose "But you're still getting punished" with that Lando grabbed me and yanked my body onto his, my back against his chest as he fists his cock a few times before aligning it to my asshole and thrusting up and in my tight hole. A loud cry escaped my lips before Oscars mouth found mine drowning out the noise. I felt the cushion of the bed dip before feeling a tap on my face, I opened it to see Logan cock right next to my face.

My mouth instinctively opened and took his cock in, moaning at the taste of his precum on my tongue. Logan started to thrust his cock in my mouth at a pace that had drool running down my chin in no time. The sound of me choking on Logans cock and skin to skin contact from Lando's painfully rough thrusts was all that filled the room. Oscar soon joined the party as he shoved his cock into my cunt with no warning which caused me to pull my mouth away from Logan cock to let out an unexpected screech.

"I didn't say you could stop sucking my cock, now did I?" Logan said as he gripped my face and shoved his cock back in my mouth, this time he fucked my face with so much force I thought I was fucking a different guy.

Soon enough after everyones strokes and pace matched, I knew I was one step closer to the edge and I was about to break (pls get the linkin park reference) . I felt the coil in the stomach tighten and my orgasm was finally about to wash over me tonight.

As if they all read my mind or just knew my body, the all simultaneously pulled out and left me nothing.

"No!" I cried at the empty feeling washing over my body, it all felt like sudden coldness.

"You didn't think we were letting you off the hook that easily did you?" Lando's tone mocking as he ordered "Go up against the headboard"

I did as I was told knowing there was no point in fighting them. Once I was against the board, I watched Lando as he grabbed what he went to his room for: A blindfold, rope and one singular feather.

Lando tossed the rope to Oscar who immediately started tying my wrists to the bedposts and threw the blindfold to Logan who eagerly took it out the packaging and on my face.

The room fell silent for about a minute after I was tied up, no one moved, no one talked. I felt the bed dip and the movement caused my whole body to tense, soon after I felt the feather being dragged up my thigh to my stomach before feeling it swirl around my nipples. A mix of moans, groans, and "fuck"s all left my mouth as I felt my orgasm creeping closer.

"Baby, I'm going to fuck you now, okay?" Oscar said before he aligned himself with the entrance of my cunt before sliding in with ease, his thrusts started off slow and sensual, allowing me to adjust to his size before his thrust became rough and erratic.

Oscar wasn't the only one eager to get his dick wet because I felt a thumb tap my bottom lip, signaling me to open it before I felt a cock brush past my lips. Based on his thrust in my mouth, I could tell it was Lando's cock that I was currently sucking, his pace relentless.

Oscar's hips started stuttering against my body as his thrusts slowed and I knew he was close to his orgasm. One thing about Oscar is that when he cums, he never wants to do it alone which means I'm finally about to get my release that's been eluding me all night.

Oscar abruptly pulled his cock out of me leaving me empty and orgasmless again, my disappointment didn't last long because as fast as Oscar pulled out Logan just as fast attached his mouth to my clit, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud bringing me close to my orgasm, which I was fully prepared to not have again.

Much to my surprise Logan didn't stop which prompted me to wrap my legs around his head making sure he couldn't go anywhere as he pushed me off the edge and I came with a loud strings of cursing and chants of 'Logan' leaving my mouth as my body shuddered and my legs squeezed around Logan head. I felt him moan against my vagina which made my body jerk upward at the vibrations.

Soon after I came down from my high, I felt a strong pair of hands yanking my legs apart before feeling Logan because torn away from my pussy.

"You shouldn't have done that Logan" Lando whispered in his ear.

------

y'all- if there's typos or a part doesn't make sense its because I'm sleepy. I wanted to put something out because I haven't in like 3 days or something like that and I felt bad.

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[katz-rambles]

Hello again, lovely writer! It's a new day, and I have a new idea for you. Especially since you did such a beautiful job bringing my previous ideas to life. Thank you for that <3

How about the ghoul of your choice being locked away in their room during their heats/ruts because they become a bit feral during that time, and what if reader accidently got locked with them ? How would that go down ?

(Again feel free to ignore this if you wish <3)

Hii! I'm so so glad you liked the others, that means so much to me!! I wanted to try something new with this one, so I've put them into headcannon form, so I can do multiple ghouls, so I apologize if it's not the best. This includes all the current ghouls/ghoulettes because why not.

(NSFW, ruts/heats, gn!reader for the most part but there is some fem!reader, reader gets tied up, some dub-con elements if you squint, theres a fuck-machine, threesome/gangbang mention, possessiveness, knotting, some dom!reader. I think this is it!)

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰

• Now we all know that he's already aggressive and ungodly horny,

Dewdrop/Sodo

• Now times that by 10. He goes insane during ruts.

• Humping everything, constantly hard, he's more grumpy and stompy than usual as well. All because he's horny and has blue balls lmfao.

• So.. now we've added his favorite person, you.

• He's on his knees. Begging for you to let him fuck you, breed you, touch you. Basically, anything his horny brain can come up with. (heavy on breeding, even if you can't get pregnant, he'll still try.)

• He has a constant possessiveness to him during his ruts, so once you're in there, you're not getting out until it's over. Don't expect to walk after.

• He has no glamor or mask on at all during his rut so if you really want to rile him up so he'll rail you, pull on his horns while he gives you head or tug on his tail. He'll go absolutely bat shit insane.

• He'll cover you in hickeys and bite marks so everyone knows you're his. Like I said, possessive.

• He'll knot you, and he won't stop knotting you until he thinks it's the one that'll get you round with his kits.

• I'm sure that if you ask nicely, he might sub for you during his rut. He hates to admit it, but he probably gets off on the thought of being a sub. Tie him up, sexually torture him, and humiliate him. He loves it.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊

• Where do I start.. he's going to he so whiney his whole rut. He might even spam call/text you because he needs you.

Rain

• Obviously, you're not going to give in, you know the rules.

• But if you did, by accident or on purpose, he's going to go insane.

• He'll do anything you ask of him. He gets off on your pleasure. But if you tease him, he may lose his patience.

• If he does lose his patience, he'll fuck you into the mattress, he might even tie you up if you're into that, he'll mark you like crazy... he's a horny bitch (just like me frfr.)

• So let's say you've found yourself with a Rain in a rut. Good luck. He'll rail you like there's no tomorrow, because to him, there's not, he thinks you will leave at any second so he won't stop until you physically can't anymore.

• His stamina is INSANE when he's in a rut.

• He could probably smell you from a mile away, so if you do accidentally find yourself locked in the same room as him, don't try and lie to him, or do.. who knows, maybe he'll punish you.

• If you don't have a dick, grab a strap on, he'll be the subbiest little bitch for you. (he's probably into fem doms). And he probably has a dildo/strap that he uses on himself anyways. He could probably cum just from the thought of you on top of him, and he will.

• Huge on your tits by the way. You're a guy, it doesn't matter, you're flat, he doesn't care, you have bigger tits, he's begging for you to ride him so he can watch them. He loves your tits.

• MARK HIM BACK. Please. He loves to feel you sink your teeth into him. He loves to see the marks the day after even more thought, a reminder of how he's going to pay you back with twice as many marks.

• Aftercare king, though. Even during a rut. I mean, you have to be in good shape if you're going to be the one to have his kits.. right?

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊

• Big boy, and not with just his height.

Mountain

• But if you happen to stumble upon a Mountain in a rut, it's not that someone's locked the door from the outside or something.. no, he's locked the door. You're not leaving until he's done with you.

• All this man is thinking about right now is how fucking hard he is, and how good you'd feel around him. So he's not going to be nice.

• He might degrade you.. but that's okay, because he'll apologize by fucking you until you're dumb.

• You better hope you're not wearing any expensive clothes, the second he gets his hands on your they're torn up and on the ground. He'll replace them when his rut is done, though, don't worry.

• Pull his hair. That's it. You want to get railed into oblivion, pull his hair. It's a one way ticket.

• He probably won't sub, but on the off chance he does, he will put up a fight. Now, if you've found yourself locked with Mountain in a rut and you want to keep your ability to walk, you can get him to sub for you, and he gets super sensitive when he does so, please, edge him.

• He'll knot you, and there's just so much. He'll whisper to you about how this'll be the knot that'll get you round with his kits.

• If you call him Sir, it could be out of fear/intimidation, or you're just teasing him, you're done for. There's no way you'll be able to walk after, so I wish you luck.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊

• Already horny ghoul, somehow, even hornier (is that even possible??) you're in for a wild ride (literally and figuratively).

Swiss

• You're in a room with him. Before you can even say anything, he'll have you pinned to the ground, and your clothes will be off.

• Mating press, missionary, cowgirl. Anything where he can see your face as he fucks you dumb you'll be put in, doesn't matter if your flexible or not, he'll find a way.

• You want to rile him up even more (again, is that even fucking possible?!) beg for him, get on your knees and beg. He will go insane, and you won't be able to walk, but it's not like he was planning to let you go. No, no, you're his now.

• If and when he knots you, it's inevitable he will, he will probably fall asleep with his cock half-hard inside you and if you fall asleep as well ans shuffle a bit with him inside you, sweetheart now he's wide awake and ready for round two.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊

• Omfg. He's so needy. He might as well be worshiping the ground you stand on, he loves you and he needs you.

Phantom

• He needs you to sit on his face, btw, now that he's in a rut it's just doubled.

• So you've found yourself in quite the predicament. You've found your way to a rut Phantom, so what's the next step (back to where you came from, turn around, and leave), honestly, just you acknowledging him during his rut could probably make him cum, he's that needy.

• He'll bend you over any and every surface known to man. Don't expect to be safe anywhere.

• If you're kind enough to help him through his rut, then he'll, probably get on one knee and propose, do anything you need him to as long as he gets to fuck you when you're done.

• Rub his horns, and he'll bust. Trust me.

• He's dominant during his rut, so don't expect normal subby, needy, Phantom. No, not you've got, dom, needy, and unbearably horny, Phantom whose prepared to stuff you full of his seed in every hole you'll let him.

• He's going to knot you. This isn't even a question. He will. It doesn't matter if you can't get pregnant because you don't have the proper biology, he will try his absolute hardest, and you won't complain because this means Phantom constantly breeding him, he has a breeding kink.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊

• I'm in love with her.

Cumulus

• She's quite dominant. She has a strap on, probably one of the double-ended ones, too.

• If you offer to use it on her, she might just go crazy. I hope your stamina is good because she won't be letting you go for a while.

• If you have female anatomy, scissor her. I beg of you, she'll beg you too. He might reward you by eating you out after..

• Her tits are ungodly sensitive during her ruts, so any type of touch on them, and she'll immediately be on top of you.

• Please let her tie you up. You'll look so pretty tied up and begging for her.

• She's going to mark you, so don't be alarmed when you see the dark marks the next day. And she will mark you anywhere she can, your neck, thighs, tits, anywhere.

• If you're good she might get Cirrius to fuck you along side her, and don't worry, Cirrius is just as good, and she's mean so you better be ready. (I'm head over heels for both of them, I love women.)

• She will overstimulate you until it hurts. She's just so mean sometimes.

• She will make you squirt. That's her goal. Even in a rut, she's still determined to see you squirt.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊

• She's mean. That's it.

Cirrius

• She'll tie you up and attach a vibrator to you and she will fuck herself as she watches you writhe.

• She might even put a gag on you if you start to get too loud.

• Once she gets her hands on you, she won't let you go until she's had her fill.

• If you call her mommy, get ready for a night full of fun because, baby, you've just fucked yourself. She won't let up. Her stamina is insane, and it combats Rains.

• So, if you ever find yourself locked in a room with Cirrius in a rut, don't expect to leave any time soon. Even after her ruts over, she might keep you there.

• If you're being good for her, maybe just maybe if she's in the mood for sharing, she'll get Cumulus or Swiss in there. (maybe even both)

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊

• I unfortunately don't know too much about her, so I apologize if she's ooc.

Aurora

• She's got a pretty firey personality as it is, so now she's got that personality AND an unbearable feeling of being constantly horny, and you'll be the only one on her mind.

• Okay.. now you're with her, she might sub..? If you ask nicely, that is.

• But she will also fuck you dumb with a double-ended dildo. So be ready for a wild night. She has a bunch of things you've only heard of, and she plans to use them.

• It's not a question that she'll tie you up. We already know she will. But if you're into it, she might put you on a fuck-machine while she rides your face until she's satisfied.

• You can probably turn the tables and switch positions, and if you do, expect her to be loud. It's okay though, she sounds so pretty.

• She will scissor you. She probably can for hours. So by the end of her rut, you'll be sore and marked, and everything will hurt. But it will be worth it.

[yutarot]

IN PERFECT SYNC [j.jh smau]

conflict [noun] /ˈkɒnflɪkt/

1 : a serious disagreement or argument, typically a protracted one.

2 : a state of mind in which a person experiences a clash of opposing feelings or needs.

3 : a serious incompatibility between two or more opinions, principles, or interests.

fourteen — conflict. wc: 1.0k

to be perfectly honest, you are a mess.

these past few days have been nothing but misery, not only have you lost your best friend, whilst actively being reminded of the worst few years of your life, but you have been punished for a wrong-doing which wasn’t entirely, morally, your wrong-doing.

taeyong knew what he was doing, he was trying to ignore his own faults by making you seem like you’d done worse. and only you know the truth behind his actions.

he had lied.

honestly, you didn’t mean what you said about jaehyun, and you hated yourself for saying it, knowing that deep down, at the time, you wanted nothing more than for him to get a place at the college.

but some things have to be twisted in order to make them straight again.

and you were never going to let your previous feelings for him shine through, never before and never again.

that part of you was gone.

on the verge of falling asleep, you’re abruptly awoken by the buzz of your phone. you scramble around to find it until you lay your eyes on the name of the person who sent you the message, your heart sinks in your chest.

your mind is whirring around in your head, making you dizzy with confusion. he’s here? he’s at your dorm? at 2am? you start to believe you’re going crazy, that this text isn’t real and you’re imagining the screen infront of you. but it’s when you hear the familiar triple-knock on your door that you feel your feet firmly planted in reality.

he’s here.

you make your way to the door, hesitant to open it, you look through the peephole.

there he is, hair and shirt soaked through from the rain, a look of distaste on his features. he’s here, and he’s not happy.

taking a breath to calm yourself, you open the door.

his eyes look to yours, jaw clenching and eyes softening, a contrast that you recognise from the time you accidentally spilled jaehyun’s coffee all over yourself, in which he apologetically cleared up for you with a gentleness you wish you could see in him again. but you’ll never be able to see him like that, not after everything you’d heard, everything you’d experienced.

you’re thrown from your nostalgia when jaehyun speaks, his voice tired and quiet, but you still hear him over the ringing of your ears.

“yn..” it’s just your name, but you understand the word to be so much more. he’s angry, livid even, but he’s stopping himself from displaying it as much as he wants to, and you don’t know why. “you just couldn’t keep your mouth shut.”

“why are you here?” you whisper, sternly.

“will you ever stop hating me?”

the question throws you off guard, and you take a step back as an almost reflex to his words.

“what?”

“it’s been 2 years, and yet you still hate me like it was yesterday. will you ever stop.” he snaps, his voice raising.

“no.” you reply, honestly.

you’ll never stop hating him, how could you ever do any opposite after learning he never even liked you at all, whilst you liked him.

whilst you loved him.

he’s looking at you, trying to read you, blinking the wet strands of his hair out of his eyes. he must have come here immediately after reading taeyongs tweet, he lives on the other side of the campus. his eagerness has you thinking.

“you’re pathetic, you know that?” you continue, “ruining my life again, and again. i might still continue to hate you, jaehyun, but you’re the one giving me all these easy reasons to.”

his eyebrows furrow, either in anger or confusion, you can’t tell.

you carry on, “and to hear from, giselle, my bestfriend… how are you still humiliating me after all these years?!”

“giselle? it was her?” his head cocks to the side in question, but you don’t care that he’s asking who it was.

“god…. you don’t even know her name…” you’re disappointed, hurt for the part of you that still had hope that jaehyun wasn’t just trying to mess with you.

“just forget it, i don’t know why you came here, and frankly, i don’t care.”

there’s a pause, a beat where you both catch your breath, waiting for the next person to come up with some kind of witty remark, an argument which will anger the other in more ways than imaginable.

but jaehyuns next words are nothing of the kind.

“im here because i can’t carry on like this.”

“what?”

“you, me, hating eachother. i can’t do it.”

“can’t do it? fuck you jaehyun.”

“im serious.”

now you’re the silent one. you’re trying to decipher what he means but nothing comes to your mind.

he continues. “yn-“ but you cut him off.

“no, you don’t get to do this. i’ve cried for months because of you. i don’t have much, jaehyun, but please let me have fact that i can hate you as much as i want and it means nothing, it’s the one choice i can make, you can’t take that from me. you’ve always hated me, and now i hate you too. deal with it jae.”

his eyes falter at your use of his nickname and you regret it the moment it leaves your lips.

you don’t understand what he’s trying to do, but you know he’s trying to mess with you, it’s all he’s done since the day you met him, and it’s all that he will ever do.

“fine.” he says. “i’ll keep hating you, if that’s what you want.”

you nod, and his anger subsides for a moment when he notices your acceptance.

he turns to leave your dorm entrance, and you watch as he begins to shuffle his feet to turn his back to you.

but he pauses before he moves away.

turning his head over his shoulder, he mumbles one final sentence before continuing his way out.

“and yn, for the record.. i had no idea she was your friend.”

you slam the door in his face.

mlist — next

notes; hmmmm i wonder what’s going on in jaehyuns head 🤔🤔🤔 i promise things will start making sense soon!! yn is not having a great time rn but it can only get better from here🤭🤭

taglist — open; @https-yeonjun @chenlesfavorite @therealbobbyshloby @f6llsun @jkslvsnella @nanaxwi @cloudmrk @neocrashed @vernonburger @vividwritess @taeeflwrr @mmjhh1998 @cyjzzl @stareaa @minkyuncutie @mrkleelvr @dudekiss3r @nattan127 @slayhaechan @jaeveil @tynlvr @mslora @nosungluv @grassbutneo @dokyriu @girlz4jaem @axo-l0tl @yyangj3lly @solvrse @m1ng1swife @gentlepeach @xiuriii @soobinbunnie5 @tocupid @apolloxxivmin @ctrlstar @gyuguys @tokitosun @i-kai @flamingi @mrkleelvr @en-dream @queenrachelpink @ssweetreveries @swanyvess @flaminghotyourmom @hyuck-me @cryingforjae @hizhu @starfilledgaze

[spiteless-xo]

╰┈➤ aurora borealis — loving — part 4/5 ⋙ A snapshot over five years of how your relationship with Satoru Gojo develops.

ft. satoru gojo / fem!reader wc. 10.7k cw. nsfw - minors do not interact, explicit language, explicit sexual content (blowjob, vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, very minor (blink and you'll miss it) feet kink, submissive-ish gojo), alcohol, friends to lovers, slow burn, pining, sexual tension, sexual jokes, some details are intentionally ambiguous, mention of children/pregnancy, ⚠️major character death⚠️, potential manga spoilers, second person POV

Previous ⋆ Masterlist ⋆ Next

2016.

“Satoru Gojo?”

He makes a strangled sound in his throat—a mixture between a gasp and a groan—and throws his forearm over his eyes. Satoru falls back onto the bed as if wounded while he clutches your phone tight to his chest.

“My government name?”

He rolls back and forth on the bed in feigned agony, curling up into the fetal position on his side and moving his hand away from his eyes to cradle the phone close to his face. He blinks down at the screen, eyes wide and trembling, before flicking up to meet your face.

You stand at the side of the bed with your hands on your hips and a frown on your face, but you’re not mad—not really.

“You couldn’t have given me a cute nickname? Pookie? Love of My Life? Satowoo?”

Your angry facade breaks and you snort. “Satowoo?”

“I dunno—literally anything would be better.”

You reach down and snatch the phone from Satoru’s grip, scrolling away from your text screen with him and back to the messages from Utahime from this morning. She said they were going to come pick up the two of you on the way to Suguru’s house for the party. 

“Because I know that idiot is going to beg me for a ride five minutes after I’ve already left the house,” Utahime’s message said.

You respond with a quick confirmation and set your phone down on the nightstand before crawling onto the bed and on top of Satoru. He accommodates you with ease by rolling onto his back, stretching his long legs across the mattress and making room for you to settle onto his lap. 

His porcelain skin is marked with dark purple bruises along his collarbones and lines of red scratches across his biceps from the night before. The view makes your heart thud a little harder against your ribcage and you move to press your palms into his chest as you loom above him.

“What’s my name in your phone?” you ask, cocking your head to the side. “Snookums? Sweetie Pie? My Soulmate?”

“My One and Only.”

Satoru’s expression softens as he speaks. His face relaxes and his eyes widen minutely as his hands come to rest on your hips. The corner of his lip twitches against his cheek as he fights back a smile, but even with all of the theatrics, you don’t let yourself fall for it.

“Liar. That’s your name for Suguru.”

His features sharpen in an instant—grin splitting across his face and gaze turning sinister while his fingers press hard into your skin. Satoru runs his tongue across his teeth, catching on a canine and pressing into it with devilish delight.

“You caught me,” he says, and he can’t hide his excitement. “Whoops! I guess I need to be punished for being so bad.”

Satoru’s voice deepens into a growl and you lurch forward when he presses his hips up into you. He’s already hard against you and you can see more signs of his arousal from the pink flush on his cheeks, slowly crawling down his face, his neck, and down to where your fingers are sprawled across his chest.

“Really?” you say, unimpressed.

“Oh, come on,” he whines. His impatience is evident from the way he drags your hips along the length of his cock and the quickened rise and fall of his chest. “How am I supposed to make it through tonight if I don’t get my rocks off at least once?”

“How are you going to make it through… a night with your friends?”

Satoru nods. His face softens again as he pleads, his brows pitching into the centre of his forehead while he juts his lower lip out in a pout.

He’s determined—you’ll give him that. Willing to try any strategy he can to get you out of your clothes. 

Unfortunately, you’re in a bit of a time crunch this morning.

“Uta said they were coming by in a few hours and I still need to finish making my dish for dinner—”

“It’s not going to take you hours to do that.”

“—and I still need to shower and get cleaned off from yesterday—”

“I’ll join you! I bet I can get you extra clean with my tongue.”

“—not to mention the fact that I haven’t picked out an outfit for tonight yet, either—”

“Don’t wear anything! Or better yet, just wrap yourself up in some ribbon so I can unwrap you under the tree.”

You quirk a brow. “In front of everyone?”

“Sure,” he shrugs. “I’m sure Nanami could use some pointers in the bedroom. Consider it a live demonstration in the art of lovemaking.”

“And Shoko and Suguru?”

“It’s nothing they haven’t seen before.” 

Satoru shoots you with another wolfish grin and you’re painfully reminded of Satoru’s embarrassing run-in with Shoko immediately after eating you out, as well as Suguru demanding that the two of you find your own place to live after catching the two of you hooking up in the living room when Satoru was staying with him.

Despite the excitement in your veins from the press of Satoru’s cock against your core, you give him a gentle pat on the chest and swing your leg off of his lap and step back onto the floor at the side of the bed.

“As romantic as that sounds, Satoru, I’m going to have to decline. Now, I’m going to take a shower while you go… take care of yourself—” you gesture down to the tent in Satoru’s pants, “—and while I’m getting dressed, can you wrap the presents for me?”

“You’re really going to leave me here to jack off by myself?”

His voice follows you out of the room as you make your way to the ensuite.

“Just don’t get cum on the sheets,” you call back before closing the bathroom door behind you and getting ready for your shower.

You and Satoru have been living together for a few months now—dating for almost a year—and it’s been so…

Easy.

Everything with Satoru is effortless—natural. Not that you thought it would be hard—of course, not—but things with him are just so much easier than you ever expected. Maybe being friends for so long beforehand helped.

(Or the unspoken, mutual pining.)

The flirty banter you had as friends has continued, although the stakes are higher now that you know he’ll make good on all his threats. His touch doesn’t linger on your skin anymore the way it used to. Instead, he holds you tight every chance he gets. Like he’s constantly trying to make up for lost time by smothering you with his love.

It’s nice. Waking up every morning wrapped around his body. Feeling the soft rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. The way his lashes flutter when he dreams. How his skin turns pink when you touch him.

You never thought that you could be so happy with someone like this.

Under the stream of warm water, you hear the familiar click! of the bathroom door opening. You still, listening to the slow patter of Satoru’s bare feet on the tile as he approaches. He pulls open the shower curtain and seems surprised that you’re already staring over at him, expecting his entrance.

Satoru ducks his head under the shower rod and he steps in behind you, already stripped naked and still sporting a half-hard cock.

“What?” he asks, feigning innocence as he reaches past you for his body wash. “I need to shower, too.”

“I thought you were jerking off.”

“Nah, that’s boring.”

Satoru squirts a generous handful of shower gel into his palm, setting the bottle back in place before pressing his hands together to lather the soap. “Want me to help you soap up?”

You level him with a skeptical look, which he returns with a wide grin.

“No funny business.”

He gasps, hand to his chest. “I would never!”

When the two of you make it downstairs, you’re in a panicked rush, certain parts of your body are much cleaner than others, and there’s a dull, familiar ache between your legs as you walk.

“They’re going to be here in less than an hour!” you say, stepping quickly to the fridge to pull out ingredients for a dish that you, realistically, should have prepped last night.

Satoru scoffs, unbothered, as he tugs on an oversized black hoodie. His hair is still slightly damp and beads of water drip from the ends and litter across his hood and shoulders.

When he looks like this—hair floppy on his head and his cheeks flushed pink—it reminds you of the night you first met him. You get a twinge of nostalgia in your chest when you look up from the cutting board and feel a sense of calm wash over you.

“Just tell them we’re running a few minutes late,” he says, leaning back on the kitchen counter beside you. He crosses his arms and rests his head on his shoulder, pursing his lips. “They’ll understand. They were young and in love once, too.”

“I’m not telling our friends we’re running late because we spent too long fooling around in the shower.”

“Why not?” he frowns, and his surprise seems genuine. “Honesty is important.”

It takes you a beat longer than you’re willing to admit before you realize that he’s joking. With a groan and a roll of your eyes, you nudge him in the side. He takes the hit with an exaggerated giggle before he scampers away, leaving you to work on the dish alone.

“I’ll go wrap the gifts,” he calls from over his shoulder.

This is the first time all of you have found the time to get together in almost a year. Since Nanami and Utahime got married, they’ve been spending a lot more time with just the two of them, (“Making babies”, Satoru always says, waggling his eyebrows.)

Shoko’s new position has her working weird hours, so it’s difficult to find time to see her that isn’t in the middle of the night. She works twelve-hour shifts that are both mentally and physically draining at the ER of the new hospital in the city, so you don’t blame her for ignoring Satoru’s incessant texts in favour of getting some well-deserved rest.

But you always find time to see Suguru.

You’re not sure when he stopped being Geto and when he became Suguru to you—the transition was so seamless that you struggle to remember a time when the two of you weren’t as close as you are now.

The dynamic you have with the two boys—Satoru and Suguru—is a fun one. There are times when you and Suguru team up on Satoru for acting immature and doing something needlessly goofy. Other times, Satoru and Suguru team up on you. Teasing you like childish bullies in the schoolyard—poking at your sides and pulling your hair (Satoru) or holding things just slightly out of reach (Suguru).

The real fun is when you and Satoru team up on Suguru.

When you wrap your arms around his waist and pull him into a tight hug while Satoru tries to climb onto his back. When Suguru laughs at the two of you, his eyes wrinkling in the corners in a boyish way that makes your heart feel warm. When he just sits back and watches the two of you playfully bicker, his favourite mug in his hand and a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

It’s rare these days to see Suguru really smiling. He’s experienced a lot of loss this past year—first his father in the spring and then his mother shortly thereafter. The girlfriend you thought was perfect for him ended up cheating and breaking his heart in the fall, so now you and Satoru have taken it upon yourselves to take care of him.

Just like how he used to take care of the two of you.

You’re only partway through cooking your dish when you hear a knock at the front door and then your panic spikes. You try to talk yourself into packing up the half-cooked casserole for the car ride, but when Utahime and Nanami walk in, you see panicked looks on their faces, too.

“Our apologies for arriving early,” Nanami says with a soft, embarrassed smile. He walks around the kitchen island to give you a hug and presses a chaste kiss to your temple before pulling away. “We were hoping that you would have some icing sugar so Uta can finish her cake.”

“Oh, yes, of course!” you say, and you gesture to the pantry.

“We tried calling,” Utahime says. She huffs as she sets her dish down on the counter: a plain, undressed cake. She lifts another bag from her feet, where Nanami had set it down, and you can see the rods of a standing mixer peeking out from the top. “All the shops are closed and I’m missing the key fucking ingredient for this goddamn cake.”

You laugh and let her pull you into a one-armed hug. She presses her cheek into yours with a heavy sigh when Satoru’s voice rings out from the other room.

“Is that Utahime I hear?”

“Nobody would blame you if you left him,” she whispers, only half-joking as her face falls at the sound of Satoru’s voice growing louder.

“I said: is that Utahime?”

“Gojo, I don’t—”

When Satoru rounds the corner, he tackles her with a hug, lifting her feet off the ground and spinning Utahime around in a circle while she shrieks at him to let her go. You raise your hands defensively, guiding Satoru out of the small kitchen and into the adjoining dining room.

With any luck, if he keeps spinning around like this, he’ll knock over Utahime’s cake and then he’ll really be giving her a reason to scream at him.

“Uta - hime!” he cheers, bouncing her up and down while her clenched fists pound at his back. “Happy Wedding Anniversary!”

“Put me the fuck down!”

“Aw, come on—I haven’t seen you in ages, Utahime.”

“And you’re never going to see me again if you don’t drop me right this instant.”

“Why?” he coos, but he sets her back down on her feet before leaning into her face. She snarls with disgust and pushes him away, but he returns with a vengeance. “Do I need to be careful with you, Uta? Is there something you need to tell us, hmm?”

“We’re not pregnant,” Nanami says, his voice deadpan as he sets a bag of icing sugar on the counter.

Satoru’s shoulders slump forward. “Aw, really? It's been like a year. Don’t you want to fill that big, lonely house of yours with some mini-Nanamis?”

“You shouldn’t ask people that sort of thing,” Utahime chides, but her back is to him now as she fishes out supplies from her bag. “What if we’re having fertility issues? It’s not any of your business whether or not we’re even trying to conceive.”

Satoru slides back over to your side, wrapping his arms around your waist and his chin on your shoulder. His body is warm and his hoodie is soft against you and when you tilt your head to the side to accommodate him, he presses his lips softly into your skin.

“Should we spoil the surprise?” he whispers not-so-quietly. “I know you wanted to wait until the party, but I’m just so excited.”

Nanami’s attention shifts to the two of you, his brows up in his hairline. “Do you…” his eyes shift down to Satoru’s hands, which have moved lower to press protectively against your stomach, “have news to share?”

“Yeah,” Satoru says, voice turning serious. Even Utahime looks over at him, eyes wide with excitement. “Came in her this morning—”

Nanami frowns. Deep, long lines form on either side of his mouth as he shakes his head.

“—we’ll see if it sticks this time. Although, the birth control might be an issue.”

“You’re fucking disgusting,” Utahime groans, clenching her hands into fists as Satoru cackles. Her gaze shifts over to you, this time, exasperated. “I really don’t know what you see in him.”

You laugh and raise your hand to cup Satoru’s face. He hums in happiness, leaning into your touch as he holds you tight against his body. “Unfortunately, I’m in love with him.”

“Unfortunate, indeed,” Nanami sighs, but you can see the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“They’re right though, Satoru,” you say, patting his cheek. “You shouldn’t make jokes like that.”

“Aw, come on—I’m just teasing, they know that.”

Nanami and Utahime shift their attention back to the undressed cake and they pull out the remaining ingredients and set up her standing mixer. You’re grateful to have a bit more time to finish making your casserole.

“Did you finish wrapping all the gifts?” you ask, pressing your lips into Satoru’s cheek while he hums against you.

“Yeah, I just gotta put a bow on Shoko’s gift then I’ll be all done.”

“Can you help me clean up the kitchen then? I should be ready to go once Uta’s finished with the cake.”

“Anything for you,” he coos, pressing a sloppy, wet kiss to your cheek before pulling away. He rolls up the sleeves of his hoodie, revealing his forearms, as he walks over to the sink to start washing up your mess from earlier.

You join him at his side, grabbing a towel to dry off the dishes as he cleans them, and then setting them aside to be put away later. By the time everything is cleaned, dried, and put away, Nanami and Utahime are finishing up by piping buttercream icing onto their cake and your casserole only has a few minutes left in the oven.

“We don’t need to fully cook it, I guess,” you rationalize with yourself, reaching for the oven mitts. “We can finish cooking it when we get to Suguru’s—we won’t have dinner for a while, still.”

“Do you think Shoko will attend tonight?” Nanami asks, watching Utahime with amusement as she makes perfect flowers onto the surface of the cake. Her tongue is peeking out from between her lips and you can see the adoration in his eyes as he looks at her.

“She said she’d try to swing by before work.”

Nanami sighs, shifting his gaze from Utahime to you, watching you as you set the oven-hot casserole down onto a trivet to protect the countertop. “It’s unbelievable that she’s working on Christmas Eve.”

“She works almost every day,” Satoru snorts, stepping to peer over Utahime’s shoulder as she pipes the icing. He reaches out from behind her with a single finger, looking to scoop some icing off of the cake but she elbows him in the stomach—hard—and he doubles over with a grunt.

“Ow! Uta, that’s—” he coughs, “—that’s not very ladylike of you.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Gojo,” she seethes. 

After what Utahime would call, an excruciatingly long twenty-minute drive, the four of you arrive at the home of Suguru Geto with food and presents in tow.

Suguru doesn’t greet you at the door but he leaves it unlocked for you to let yourself in. The second you pass through the doorway, your senses are assaulted with the warmth of his home.

The sight of Suguru’s home decorated in tasteful Christmas-themed decor. The smell of dinner cooking in the oven. The soft sound of atmospheric ambient music playing throughout the home and the even softer sounds of the fireplace video crackling on Suguru’s TV. 

You can’t help but grin as you step into the house. You immediately feel at home.

“Suguru!” Satoru yells, cupping his hands around his mouth as he leans over Utahime’s shoulder. She flinches from the volume and shoves at him with her elbow. “We’re here, Suguru!”

Suguru steps around the corner leading to the kitchen with a tea towel in his hands. He’s wiping off food from his fingers but otherwise is dressed in a fitted knit sweater with his hair tied up into a tight bun, akin to the style he used to sport at school.

“I thought you weren’t going to  make it.”

“Gojo held us up,” Uta huffs, pinning the blame elsewhere, despite the fact that she was just as much the cause for the delay as Satoru was.

She kicks off her shoes easily and steps past you to greet Satoru. She presses onto her toes to reach his face, but he still has to duck his head for Utahime’s lips to connect with his cheek. She presses a firm kiss to each cheek as she holds the cake between their bodies.

“It’s good to see you, Geto,” she says, her voice soft. “You look like you’re doing well.”

“I probably wouldn’t have gotten out of bed today if you all weren’t coming over.”

Suguru smiles down at her to punctuate his teasing words, but the lack of warmth in his face has Utahime shifting awkwardly on her feet.

He’s not joking.

“I’ll go put this on the counter,” she says, and you follow her into the kitchen just in time to avoid Satoru’s charge toward Suguru.

“Suguru!” he cheers, and even as you step into the other room, you can hear Suguru’s laughter.

“Is he…?” Utahime speaks to you out of the corner of her mouth. She sets the cake on the counter to free her hands as she looks at you through the reflection of the kitchen window.

“He’s better… but not great.”

She nods solemnly and brushes both palms down the front of her dress. The two of you linger in silence in the kitchen for a moment, allowing the boys outside to greet one another as you share sympathetic looks.

“It’ll just take some time,” you say finally, your voice just a whisper. “I think tonight will be good for him.”

“I hope so,” she says, glancing over to the doorway of the kitchen. From here, you can only see Nanami’s back and Geto’s palm resting on his shoulder. “I’ve grown fond of him over the years. I hate to see him in pain like this.”

“Yeah, me too,” you say, and this time you smile. “It’s a shame Satoru hasn’t grown on you yet.”

She groans, rolling her eyes and breaking the tension. “Honestly, I don’t know how you live with him.”

“Does that mean you’re not interested in a husband swap?”

You’re only teasing her and you both know it, but she feigns anger. “I knew it. You’ve always wanted him for yourself.”

“I was there long before you were, sweetie,” you coo, leaning into the bit, “and I’ll be there after you, too.”

“Stupid bitch,” she says, but her tone has lost its bite and she brings a hand up to her mouth to muffle her laughter. “In all seriousness, I’m happy to see you again, too.”

Utahime pulls you in for another hug, this time squeezing you tight around the middle. 

“And I hope you don’t think my comments about Gojo are legitimate concerns. I know how happy he makes you and I wouldn’t want to cause you any feelings of doubt.”

She’s lying—you know how much she genuinely hates Satoru. Even before the two of you were dating. Back before she was with Nanami.

But you appreciate her kindness and you’ve never taken any of the snide comments she’s made about him to heart. Besides, Satoru doesn’t even realize how much Utahime truly hates him—he thinks it’s all playful banter. 

If it doesn’t bother him, it doesn’t bother you.

“Thank you, Uta,” you say, returning her squeeze before pulling away to look at her face. “I’m happy to see you, too.”

Nanami walks in as the two of you step away from the hug and he greets you both with a warm smile, his gaze lingering on Utahime. He moves beside her, wrapping one arm around her waist and pulling her close at his side.

“The boys went upstairs to check out Geto’s… lights?”

“Smart lights,” you explain, shaking your head with fondness. “He’s set up LED lighting in his room and has it all connected to his phone so it changes colour. He’s been chatting about it with Satoru for the past few months, he’s really excited about it.”

Nanami smiles. “That’s good, even if I don’t fully understand the concept.”

“I don’t either, to be honest,” you admit, “but it keeps him busy and helps keep the demons at bay.”

He nods but doesn’t pry. He’s never been one to gossip, especially about someone’s mental health, and he’s heard about what’s been going on in Suguru’s life from the man himself—

Nanami’s firm helped Suguru with his parents’ wills after they passed.

“Geto said that Shoko promised she’d make it here for dinner,” Nanami says. “She told him to have a bottle of whiskey ready in the freezer for her.”

You laugh. “Must be a tough day.”

“I wonder if there’s an increase in injuries and accidents near Christmas,” Utahime says.

Nanami’s attention draws to her like a moth to a flame. Even from behind the shine of his glasses, you can see his gaze soften when he looks down at her.

“I would imagine so, right?” she continues. “People drink more… have to deal with their families—their in-laws … I can picture someone driving off in the snow, drunk on a few too many rum and egg nogs, after a blowout fight with some family member with different political views.”

“That’s a pessimistic viewpoint,” you say with a frown. “Maybe there are less hospital admissions because people want to spend more time with their families. Rather than rush to the ER because of some chest pain, they try to tough it out to enjoy the holidays with their grandchildren.”

“Interesting point,” Utahime says with a nod. “We’ll have to remember to ask Shoko when she gets here.”

“Ask me what?”

The three of you are greeted by the sight of Shoko standing in the doorway of Suguru’s kitchen, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a reusable bag of presents in the other. She looks tired—exhausted—with bags under her eyes and dry, chapped lips. She’s still wearing her white coat from the hospital. 

“Shoko!”

Utahime steps toward her first, prying the items from Shoko’s hands so she can pull Shoko into a crushing hug. Shoko laughs and her hands come up to press against Utahime’s back to pull her closer. 

“Where are the idiots?”

“Upstairs looking at lights,” you say, stepping to pull her in when Utahime steps away. Shoko smells like a mixture of tobacco and hand sanitizer that you’ve grown to love. Since she’s been trying to quit smoking, the smell of tobacco isn’t quite as strong as it usually is.

After greeting all of you, Shoko tells the three of you about her shift at work—all personal identifying information redacted, of course—seated at the coffee table as she pours herself three fingers of whiskey into a short glass, giving the bottle to Nanami to put in the freezer.

“Did Suguru put one in there for me already?” she asks, looking past you as Nanami pulls open the fridge.

He gazes into it for a moment, searching, before turning back to Shoko. “Doesn’t appear so.”

“That little shit,” she hisses. “He’s got no faith in me, I’m telling ya.” Shoko’s fingers press to her lips, miming a cigarette, before she returns her hand back to her lap. A nervous tic. “I told him to stick it in ages ago, but he never believes me when I tell him I’m coming. I should just do it myself.”

“Have you been visiting often?”

Shoko nods—presses her fingers to her lips, sets her hand back down—before speaking. “Yeah, I come by most nights after my shift.”

That makes sense. You know Suguru hasn’t been sleeping, so of course Shoko would come by to stay with him.

When you and Satoru can’t be there.

“Oh!” Utahime misinterprets Shoko’s explanation, glancing between you and Shoko with excitement. “You spend the night… with Geto?”

Shoko doesn’t even blink. “In his spare room, yeah,” and Utahime visibly deflates. “Suguru’s like my brother, Uta—don’t be gross.”

Your conversation comes to a lull just as you hear the familiar sound of Satoru and Suguru’s feet against his carpeted stairway, moments before they come into view at the kitchen doorway.

“You know,” Suguru says, nodding back toward his living room, “we aren’t kids anymore. We don’t need to cluster around the kitchen at parties, we can sit in the den.”

The group files out of the kitchen to relocate to the living room after Suguru’s prompting, but you linger at the back of the pack so you can finally greet him for the first time this evening.

You step onto your toes to help reach as you wrap your arms around his neck. Suguru places two warm palms against your lower back and pulls you into him until your bodies are flush. He holds you there for a beat with his face pressed into your neck.

Suguru’s chest expands as he takes a long breath, drinking you in and pressing you tighter against him. “Thank you—all of you—for being here today.”

“I haven’t spent Christmas Eve without you since we first met,” you say. “Why would I start now?”

“Thank you for encouraging me to host this tonight. It feels like old times.”

“I promise Satoru and I will stay off the roof tonight.”

He laughs at that and pulls away, turning his face from you to hide his expression and he steps past you and into the kitchen. “I’ll grab some wine for everyone,” he calls, and you join the group in the living room for some drinks and lively conversation before dinner.

The group of you chat amongst yourself throughout the evening. Reminiscing on stories from when the Suguru, Satoru, and Shoko trio were in high school and their drunken recklessness. Silly stories from a drunken Utahime about Nanami from their honeymoon in beautiful Malaysia. And you and Satoru share the trials and tribulations of trying to buy a home together and all of the mindless open-house viewings you’ve been to.

You feel so grown up with everyone here tonight—nothing like the kid you were when you first met them. The Nanamis are married, Shoko is working on finishing her residency, and you and Satoru are about to become homeowners! It almost feels surreal.

At this age, you thought that you’d already be married and pregnant, so you’re a little behind on your life plans, but oddly enough, it doesn’t bother you. You’re happy with how things are in your life with Satoru and he knows what you want, so you feel no sense of urgency to check off items on your life plan.

Suguru smiles throughout the entire evening—really smiles—and it brings such a feeling of warmth and ease in your chest that you don’t want this night to end.

You keep the drinks flowing. Pouring whiskey into Shoko’s cup before she’s even finished what’s left in her glass and topping up everyone else’s wine, even though the more Utahime drinks, the louder she becomes.

Satoru stays sober along with Nanami, the designated driver. But Satoru acts like he’s drunker than anyone else in the room with all of his hooting and hollering and by the way he eggs on Utahime to yell louder and louder.

Dinner goes by in a drunken blur, but after getting some delicious food into your bellies, the group seems to sober up a bit as they grow drowsy from their gluttony.

Nanami and Utahime sit together on the couch in Suguru’s living room, the same couch they sat in together when they first connected at Satoru’s party all those years ago. Even though there’s plenty of room for them to spread out, Utahime is curled against Nanami’s side with his arm casually thrown over the back of the couch. With his free hand, he helps cradle the wine glass in Utahime’s hand, careful not to let the liquid spill as she sways from side to side on her seat.

Suguru reclines back in his armchair, hands clasped together behind his head painting him the picture of relaxation. Shoko sits on the armrest of his chair, leaning into his shoulder every time she laughs.

You and Satoru sit together on the floor. He’s found a way to curl himself around you completely with his arms around your waist and his chin on your shoulders while long, lanky legs trap your body on either side.

Your cheeks are warm from the drinks and the company and they hurt from smiling so much. It’s been so long since all of you have been able to get together like this and you selfishly wish that you could stay in this moment forever.

Utahime leans forward, resting her now-empty wine glass on the coffee table and reaching forward for the bottle. She tries to pour more into her glass and wails when only a drop rolls out.

“We’re out of wine!” she cries. “This is a disaster!”

“I’ll go get more.” You volunteer with a laugh, untangling Satoru’s arms from around your body so you can sit up. He whines in your ear but lets you stand up without a fuss.

“I’ll go with you,” Shoko says before downing what’s left of her drink. Her cheeks are flushed dark red, but otherwise, she seems completely normal. She’s always had a high tolerance when it comes to alcohol. “I need a refill.”

Utahime gasps in childlike delight, reaching her hands out for both of you as her chin wobbles. “I love you—I love you both, so so so so so so so so so—”

“Yikes, now I see why you guys don’t want kids,” Satoru teases, grinning across the room at Nanami.

“—so so so so so so so so—”

“Alright, alright,” Shoko scolds, reaching out with a hand to squeeze Utahime’s cheeks. Her lips purse together into a pucker as she blinks up at Shoko. “We get it—you love us. Thanks a ton.”

“I jus’ wanna make sure you know,” she says, speaking around Shoko’s grip.

Shoko grins as she releases her and Utahime slumps back against Nanami’s side. Utahime turns to look over at Suguru on the armchair and he regards her with a raised brow.

“And I love you, too,” she says, and you can already hear the waver in her voice as she turns to look at Nanami. “And I love you, most of all.”

“Hey, what about me?” Satoru calls, raising a hand.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” she yells, keeping her back turned to Satoru.

You and Shoko share a look of amusement before stepping out of the chaos and into the kitchen. She grabs her bottle of whiskey and sets her glass down on the counter as she twists the bottle cap, watching you choose from Suguru’s collection of wine for a replacement bottle.

“I have to say, I’m surprised you two are still going strong.”

You pull a bottle of red from Suguru’s shelf and take a look at the label to make sure it’s not too expensive before uncorking it. “Hmm?” you ask from over your shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“You and Satoru,” she says. You look up to see her taking a slow sip of her drink, levelling her gaze on your face. “We were all tired of the whole, will-they-won’t-they shtick after all these years, but I never thought you two would ever actually end up together.”

Your brows furrow in confusion. Shoko must be really drunk if she’s saying something like this, you reason. She’s typically positive-to-apathetic about your relationship with Satoru.

“Why would you say that?” You turn to fully face Shoko now, crossing your arms over your chest.

She shrugs noncomittally, suddenly appearing disinterested in the conversation, but you push.

“No, Shoko. What do you mean by that?”

“I just mean that I always thought the two of you were more interested in the chase than you were in each other.”

Shoko doesn’t even seem guilty about her comment. 

“The one girl that isn’t immediately enamoured by The Satoru Gojo is the one he’s going to obsess about the most,” she continues. “And Satoru really doesn’t seem like your type.”

“What’s my type?”

“You know,” she gestures vaguely at the other room. “The Nanami-type. The Higuruma-type. The guys that own more suits than casual wear and don’t show emotions on their face.”

“I’m not interested in Nanami,” you say, taken aback. “And things between Higuruma and I didn’t work out.”

“But he broke up with you,” she says, pointing her finger at you. “If he hadn’t, I bet you would’ve married him.”

You start to feel a cold sweat on your back. Shoko is one of Satoru’s best friends—from long before you were ever even in the picture. Unlike your banter with Utahime today, this conversation feels serious—loaded.

You straighten your spine, tilting your chin up to try to feign confidence as your heartbeat pounds against your temples. “Did Satoru say something to you or…? I just don’t understand why you’d bring this up all of a sudden.”

Shoko shrugs and takes another sip of her drink. She looks away from you, into the party in the other room as she rolls the liquid in the mouth. After a thick swallow, she returns her attention to you.

“I just think that you have a really rigid life plan—you always have. House, married, kids… you’ve got it all figured out.” Her face softens, “That’s not a bad thing. I think that’s great that you have those aspirations, but—”

The dreaded but.

“—Satoru is a kid at heart. I know he’s happy playing house with you right now, but when it comes to buying a real house together? Proposing? Kids? I just… I think the two of you need to have a serious conversation about that.”

You think about all of Satoru’s snide comments about kids from today—jokes and mocking comments to Nanami and Utahime. Does he really not share the same desires as you?

You’re shaken up by the conversation, but you feel trapped here. You can’t leave without Nanami and the others, and if you go into the other room and request that everyone leaves, it’s going to draw questions.

So, you try to brush off the unease. Shoko is drunk—she doesn’t know what she’s saying. She doesn’t know what your relationship with Satoru is really like. She’s just making assumptions.

“Thanks,” you say, even though nothing Shoko said to you is deserving of it.

You stay for a few more hours. Until Utahime is falling asleep on Nanami’s shoulder and the group finishes another bottle of wine.

You kiss Suguru goodbye on the cheek and give him an extra tight squeeze when he holds you close. To Shoko, you just offer a chaste brush of your lips against her face and a side hug.

“Another year without the lights,” Suguru comments, tsking as he points up at the sky. It’s a clear night, but you still haven’t seen the fabled northern lights that Satoru and his friends constantly rave about. “Maybe next year.”

Usually, you would quip back with a witty comment—”Maybe we should be looking for them on other days, too”—but your tongue feels dry in your mouth and you’re only able to respond with a forced smile and a nod.

You’re still rattled by your conversation with Shoko as you walk outside with the others. You settle into the backseat with Utahime even though she yells at Satoru for getting shotgun in her own car (“Do you want me to throw up?” Satoru challenges. “Ruin your beautiful upholstery? Get it in your hair and all over your pretty dress?”) and you all buckle in for the ride home as Shoko and Suguru wave at you from the entryway of his house.

The drive is relatively peaceful. Utahime is fighting sleep against your shoulder and Nanami is quiet, as usual. Even Satoru seems tired from tonight’s events, as he’s silent as he sits up front with Nanami.

The warmth of your home feels hollow when you enter. Spending the drive in your head, thinking about what Shoko said, wasn’t the best way to calm your nerves.

You’re so lost in your own head that you don’t notice Satoru’s distress until his hands cup around your face, lifting your head to look into his eyes.

“Is everything ok?” His eyes are wide with worry, his face panicked. “You started acting really weird all of a sudden. Did I do something wrong?”

Your reflex is to deflect his concerns. Whenever you get moody or upset, it’s rarely Satoru’s fault, but you’re used to him blaming himself for your bad moods. Ever since the fight that you caused at Nanami and Utahime’s wedding—as a result of your own insecurities—Satoru is quick to fall on his sword to keep you from running away from him again.

But right now, he is at fault. At least partially.

“Do you ever talk about me with Suguru and Shoko when I’m not around?”

He frowns. “Uh, sometimes, yeah.”

“Do you ever tell them things that you don’t tell me?”

“Maybe? I don’t know—nothing serious, but maybe like, little stupid things I know you wouldn’t care about—”

“Do you want to have kids, Satoru?”

He jerks back in surprise, blinking down at you. “Uh, woah. That’s quite the left turn—”

“Do you want to get married? Do you even want to buy a house?”

Satoru cocks his head to the side. He stares at you for a beat while his thumbs brush against your cheeks, wiping away the tears that would be there if not for your stubbornness holding them back. 

“I want to be with you,” he says.

“Did you tell Shoko that you don’t want those things?”

“I told Shoko that I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” he says. “I’m not sure what I want in life—I don’t think about it the way you do—but I want whatever you want.”

“We talked about it,” you counter, “when you and Suguru were overseas. We talked about it.”

“We talked about you and Higu-what’s-his-face.” Satoru scoffs, leaning back to his full height and waving a hand in the air in dismissal.

You frown and cross your arms over your chest. “But even then, you know what I want, right? I’ve been upfront with you since the beginning.”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember. Kids before thirty.”

“I’m twenty-five, now, Satoru.”

“I know.”

“We don’t have a lot of time left.”

He snorts. “You want us to start trying now? Say less, babe.”

“Satoru, I’m being serious.”

“So am—” he groans, lifting his hands up into his hair and tugging on the strands with his fists. “We’re literally in the process of trying to get a house right now, isn’t this what you want?”

“But is it what you want?!”

“You are what I want!” he insists, growing frustrated. “I’ve always wanted you—from the first time we met and then every day after that. If you want a house—I’ll buy you a house. If you want to get married—let’s get fucking married! And if you want to have kids… if you want kids, then we’ll have kids, ok?”

“Kids aren’t some sort of joke. We’d be bringing a new life into this world.”

“I know that.”

“You can’t just agree to have kids just because I want them. You need to decide for yourself whether or not it’s something you really want or else… or else—”

“Or else you’ll leave me?”

Satoru’s voice is quiet and meek. You’ve been avoiding his gaze throughout the conversation—it’s been too hard to look into those piercing blue eyes while you talk—and now when you look up, you see the worry etched in his face. 

“No, I…” you stumble around your words.

“If I decided next year that I don’t want to have kids, would you stay? Is it really that important to you?”

“I—no… it’s not.”

“I won’t leave you if you want to have kids. I’ll be right there with you, raising those brats,” he grins down at you and your shoulders relax. “And if you decide you don’t want them anymore? I’ll be there, too—hanging out with you in our lavish mansion in all of our DINK glory.”

“DINK?”

“Dual income no kids.”

Satoru steps forward, pressing his palms into your shoulders and pulling you into his chest. He wraps his arms around your body once you’re close and his lips against your temple. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you, too.”

“And yes, I’m freaked out at the idea of having kids—but I’m not scared about our future together. I’ll figure it out by the time you’re thirty, don’t worry, and we can have all the little Gojo’s you want.”

Your hands lift to loosely wrap around Satoru’s body and he squeezes you tighter in response. “I just feel like I’ve had all these plans about how I wanted my life to be and I expected you to want them too… but after talking with Shoko today, I’m scared that I’m just forcing you to do what I want.”

“Let’s just get married and then we can figure out the rest later.”

You snort, finally relaxing in his arms and pressing your face into his chest. His hands are cool on your back as they rub small, gentle circles.

“I think you need to propose first before we get married.”

“Ok, I propose we get married.”

You groan and playfully shove him away. He steps back enough to create some distance between the two of you before grabbing your hands and pulling you back into him, this time with your chin pressed against his chest so you can look up at his smiling face.

After all this time, Satoru’s gotten good at calming down your insecurities. You spent most of the latter half of the evening in mental turmoil about the future of your relationship, but Satoru can put you at ease with a few honest words and physical touch.

You love him.

“I’m sorry if my friends said something stupid to you at the party, but let me make it up to you, ok?”

You smile and close your eyes as Satoru leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Why does everything with us always have to be so dramatic?”

“You’re forgetting about all of the boring days we have together,” he says, lips curling into a smile against your skin. “Remember yesterday when we had a perfectly normal day? We ate food, watched tv, and then fucked—end of story.”

“Pretty boring story. Nothing like today.”

“Right—today, we’re fucking twice!”

Satoru scoops you up into his arms, lifting you from the ground. Your legs wrap instinctively around his tapered waist while your arms lock around his shoulders, allowing him to carry you up the stairs to your bedroom.

You giggle into his neck while he huffs up the stairs, feigning effort despite the fact that he carries you to bed every night with ease. He walks until he’s right at the foot of the bed and then launches you onto the mattress and out of his grip.

The blankets are soft against your skin as you fall back into them, bouncing slightly from Satoru’s toss. Your eyes rake across his body as he moves his hands to grab the bottom hem of his hoodie, pulling it up and over his head to expose his naked torso.

Satoru throws his hoodie off to the side with a sigh before ruffling the hair on the top of his head. “What do you think?” he hums, reaching down for his belt.

Your mouth waters as you watch the tendons in his hands flex when he pulls at his belt, pulling it from the buckle with a metallic clink! Satoru clicks his tongue for your attention and when your gaze swings up to his face, his brows are raised—expectantly waiting for your response.

“Huh?” you say, dazed.

Satoru laughs. He languidly pulls the belt free from the loops of his jeans before working on the button—then the zipper—before sliding his pants off of his hips and onto a heap on the floor around his feet.

“I said—”

He grabs at the bulge in his briefs, squeezing it with a grunt as he settles his knee onto the mattress near your feet. The bed dips from his weight and you sink in his direction. Your face feels warm and you can already feel your breathing deepen as you watch Satoru’s eyes darken.

“—will you let me take care of you tonight?”

You hum in thought, rolling your head to the side until your cheek rests on your shoulder. Satoru’s long, lithe fingers wrap around your ankle and bring it up to press into his chest. His hands curl around the top of your stocking and pull it down over your foot, exposing your skin the to cool air. He lifts your foot to his face and presses a tender kiss to the arch of your foot.

“So?” he prompts. He brushes his lips across the sole of your foot, moving to the top of your foot to press another soft kiss.

“I dunno, Satoru…” you say, pursing your lips into the corner of your mouth.

He trails his lips up to your ankle, kissing there.

“No?”

Satoru’s hands move up the length of your calf, following his touch with his mouth as he slots your leg over his shoulder. The position has your legs spreading open for him, exposing the lacy panties you have on underneath your dress—the ones that Satoru helped you pick out—until you can feel the cool air against the damp patch on your crotch.

“You don’t want me to—” he presses a kiss to the side of your knee, wet and slow while his gaze stays fixed on your face, “—worship you?”

“I feel like I haven’t been fair to you.”

His brows twitch in intrigue, but he continues his ascent up your leg as he leans in for another kiss to your inner thigh. This time, he teases your skin with his tongue and a small amount of pressure as he sucks on the skin. The action makes you squirm and his eyes light up with delight.

“S’ok.” Satoru’s eyes flutter shut as he moves to brush his cheek and nose along your inner thigh. The skin on his face is soft and smooth, adding to the heat and need building between your legs.

Despite your desire to have his face move higher and higher still, you reach down with your hand to run your fingers through his hair. He purrs against your skin, lashes fluttering when you tug on the white strands and pull his head up to face you.

“Let me take care of you tonight, Satoru.”

“Yeah?”

He crawls up the length of your body, keeping your leg over his shoulder as he slots between your open thighs. Your body curls in on itself as he leans forward and the warmth of Satoru’s breath against your cheek when he presses his forehead into yours has your mind swimming.

Satoru nudges your nose with his while his hands move to the bottom hem of your dress. “You wanna take care of me?” he coos.

His hands drag the fabric up your body—up up up—tracing the curves of your body with his palms until he’s pulling your dress over your head and exposing you to him completely. His breath shudders when he looks down at your matching, lacy set.

“Fuck, princess—you can do whatever you want to me.”

You giggle, pressing forward to meet his lips with yours. Satoru returns the kiss with fervour while you adjust the position of your leg, moving it off of his shoulder and wrapping it around his hips. His heart pounds under your palm when you press it against his chest and you use the momentum of your kiss to roll Satoru onto his back with you straddling around his hips.

Satoru’s grinning with excitement when you pull away. He’s flushed pink from his cheeks to his chest and you can feel the firmness of his cock beneath you. 

“Take care of me,” he purrs, moving his hands down to your hips to rock you against his length.

This moment feels reminiscent of this morning. The two of you wrapped up in the sheets together, fighting off a sleepy haze as the arousal builds in your gut. You run your fingers down his chest, watching his body shiver with goosebumps in their wake until your fingers curl over the waistband of his underwear.

You shift your position and drag Satoru’s underwear down with you. His cock springs free from the confines of the fabric until it slaps up against his stomach. The tip is flushed red and shiny with precum and it twitches when you move onto your hands and knees between Satoru’s spread thighs.

He tucks both arms behind his head, propping himself up to watch as you grab the base of his cock. You give him a few slow, experimental strokes, and watch as the tip leaks more translucent precum.

Satoru’s breathing is strained—ragged—as his gaze follows your movements. You run your tongue across the seam of your lips as your hand moves the length of his cock toward your mouth.

You start by blowing cool air through pursed lips and watch as Satoru’s abs flex hard in response. He groans when you bring your hand up along his length, thumbing at the spilled precum and smearing it across the soft tip of his cock. 

“Put it in your mouth,” he says, voice wavering. “Please, please—I need to see you sucking on it.”

You respond by opening your mouth and letting your tongue hang out. You lean forward, pressing your tongue against the underside of his cock and Satoru’s head falls back with a throaty moan.

He flops his gaze forward as you rub your tongue along his length. His lower lip is pulled between his teeth, the skin turning white from the pressure as his lids droop. Satoru looks like he’s in a daze as he watches you lick along his cock.

“Come on,” he urges, sitting up on his elbows to get a better look. “You said you weren’t being fair—don’t tease me.”

You grin. “Yeah, ok. Sorry.”

Your free hand comes up to cradle his balls, the weight of them settling perfectly into your palm as you hover your lips over the tip of his cock. Satoru’s chest is heaving with want, hands balled into tight fists against the sheets until his knuckles turn white.

“Please.”

The head of his cock is slippery when you slide it past your lips. When it hits your tongue, you taste that familiar saltiness of skin and precum. Satoru’s jaw falls slack, brows pitching up into his forehead as he watches—mesmerized—as you take him in, inch by thick inch.

Your tongue smooths along the underside of his cock as you bob your head along his length. Your body tries to resist the intrusion as you poke and prod at your tight throat with every movement and drool spills down from the sides of your mouth, over your knuckles, and along the veins of his cock.

Satoru whimpers, his usually bright blue eyes turning hazy from his arousal. “Ohhh, fuck—just like that, holy shit.”

His hips buck up into your mouth, urging himself deeper and deeper and pushing past the tight ring of your throat as you press your nose into the white hairs at his base. Satoru’s thighs twitch when you swallow around his cock before you pull back up to cough for air as thick strings of spit trail between you.

“Please, baby—it feels so good, keep going.”

His hand lifts from the bed to press against the back of your head, guiding you until your lips are wrapped around him again. He moans, keeping light pressure against the back of your head to hold you in place as he fucks up into your face.

“Shit, I wish you could see yourself—my pretty girl with spit all over her chin and my cock down her throat.”

He bites hard around his lower lip as your hand starts to move in tandem with his hips. His cock pulses against your palm as you slide along the shaft and you can feel the pull of his balls towards his body as he gets close.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum,” he whines, cheeks turned completely pink. His stomach flexes hard, twitching as he fights back his orgasm. “Is that what you want, baby? Want me to cum in your mouth?”

You hum around the tip of his cock before pulling off of him completely, swatting his hand away from the back of your hand as you rest both hands on his hips.

“No, no, no—” he whimpers, his hips rutting uselessly against the air as his cock slaps against his stomach. “Come back—please, please, please.”

You lean down to press a soft kiss to the underside of his cock before sitting up on your knees. Satoru watches with rapt attention as you climb into his lap, sliding your palms up his torso as you do so until they land on his chest.

He falls back against the mattress with the lightest touch, letting your weight hold him down as you straddle around his hips. Satoru’s hands flex and twitch at his sides, but he doesn’t touch you.

“You wanna ride it?” He asks, breathless.

You don’t answer but lean forward instead. Your chest presses against his and he tilts his face up expectantly, mouth open and breath shuddering. His white lashes flutter against his cheeks when they fall closed and he nudges your nose with his, searching for your lips.

When you finally meet, Satoru’s hands come up at last—one clutching the back of your head while the other wraps around your waist. The kiss is rabid—frenzied—just a blur of lips and tongue and teeth as Satoru’s hips grind against yours.

“I love you,” he says against your lips, “I love you.”

Your hands slide up from between your bodies, ghosting across the ridges of his collarbone, along the length of his neck, until they burrow amongst the strands of his hair. Satoru moans into you when your fingers weave around him, tugging against the hair at its roots.

“Fuck—” he hisses, nipping at your lip with his teeth. “You drive me insane, you know that?”

“I know,” you hum, grinning as you pull your lip free from Satoru’s bite.

You sit back up on Satoru’s lap, shifting your hand between your legs to reach for Satoru’s cock. He grunts when you take hold of it and it kicks against your palm—still sensitive, you note.

“Are you going to last, Satoru?” you purr, guiding him until the soft head slides against the mess between your thighs. You ache for him, too.

“Probably not,” he admits, teeth clenched. “Consider it a compliment.”

“That’s ok—”

You lower yourself down and Satoru’s cock presses into you. You both suck in a sharp breath at the feeling, and your body takes over as your hips roll against him.

“—I want you to cum, Satoru.”

He closes his eyes, face twisted in agony as you sink down completely until your hips are flush with his. You’re so wet, you can already see the slick arousal coating the hair at the base of his cock. Satoru twitches inside of you and your body squeezes around him in reaction—he feels so big, so thick, so satisfying.

“Don’t say that or I’m gonna lose it,” he says, voice strained.

You roll your hips up—and then back down again—landing with a wet squelch! in Satoru’s lap as your pussy squeezes and drools around his cock. You moan at the feeling and every nerve in your body seems to come alive, burning from your toes to your fingertips as you rock in his lap.

“Oh shit—” he groans, stomach flexing as his back arches off the mattress, changing the angle of his cock inside of you, and you feel another surge of electricity shoot up your spine, “—fuck, please stop sounding so fucking sexy.”

You bounce in his lap, feeling the slap of his thighs against your ass with every movement and Satoru’s hands shift up to grab your hips. You think he’s going to stop you—hold you flush against him until the tide of his orgasm subsides—but instead, he digs fingers into the meat of your hips and helps guide you along his length.

With Satoru’s help, every bounce has the tip of his cock brushing directly against your sweet spot. Combined with the way Satoru is writhing and fighting back an orgasm beneath you, you feel the telltale surge of your own climax rapidly approaching.

“Fuck,” he groans, voice thick with arousal, “you’re squeezing me so tight—ahh, holy shit, you’re gonna make me cum.”

“Please,” you beg, feeling the haze creep into your mind as you chase your orgasm. “I want you to cum, Satoru—need it—please, I love you.”

His grip turns painful—blunt nails biting into your skin as Satoru’s body tenses beneath you. He babbles out your name, squirming and whimpering as you feel each pulse of his cock deep inside of you, spilling and filling you with the warmth of his cum.

But you keep going—bouncing in his lap, rolling your hips, grinding your clit against him—as you feel the pressure building in your gut.

Satoru’s whimpers turn into panicked hisses and his squirming to jerky twitches as his cock turns sensitive from the stimulation. He pants beneath you, his chest expanding in collapsing with every deep breath as he moans out.

“Oh, fuck—”

He can hardly speak between each breath. Between each guttural moan as your pussy squeezes around the length of his cock.

“—don’t stop—don’t stop—don’t stop—fuck, it’s—so much—”

His feet kick out behind you, toes curling as his face twists. The mess between your bodies becomes thicker— sticky —from his cum and the slide of your clit against the hair at the base of his cock turns sinful.

His abs tighten when your hands move to rest upon them, using the leverage to bounce harder in his lap.

“Satoru—oh god— I’m gonna cum—”

Satoru can only offer you a strangled whimper in response and you feel the kick of his cock inside you as he cums again.

The feeling of being flooded by his seed has you in a daze. Through sharp, staccato breaths you moan out his name, each syllable punctuated by the squeeze of your pussy as you cum around his cock. You curl forward as your stomach tenses, your body quaking from the tremors of your climax.

Your knees squeeze around Satoru’s hips and his hands lift up. One arm wraps around your waist while the other cradles the back of your head—much like before—and he pulls you close into his chest. His breath is hot against the shell of your ear and his skin, even hotter. Your chests press against one another for space as you each take heaving breaths until the haze of your arousal finally clears.

Satoru’s cock, soft and soaked, slips from between your thighs when you sit up. His eyelids are heavy, his gaze dreamy, and he’s got a goofy grin painted across his face when you look down at him.

You brush away the sweaty, white strands from his forehead and he crinkles his nose up at you in delight.

“So?” he says, voice still airy and weak. “How’d I do?”

“Not your best work,” you tease.

You swing your leg over his hips and settle into the bed beside him. Your thighs feel sticky and your body is covered in sweat, but you still curl into Satoru and let him pull you into him.

“Liar,” he tsks, nose brushing against your cheek.

You laugh to yourself, burying your face into his chest. “Ok, fine. It was great—amazing, even!—The best lay I ever had.”

Satoru presses a tender kiss to your temple before whispering against your skin, “That better be my name in your phone the next time I check it—The Best Lay I Ever Had.”

🏷️taglist: @luvsymai @pdacex @jaegersity

[hannyoontify]

casual - yoon jeonghan [teaser]

member | childhood best friend!jeonghan x fem!oc

genre | fluff, angst and angst and lots of angst, childhood best friends to ????

teaser word count | 1k (full fic est. 12k)

synopsis | throughout her childhood, jeonghan was the one constant in jeong-ah's life. he was her rock and she was his, but there was always an unspoken tension between the two, something that made jeong-ah's stomach flutter and her pulse race. was it casual, like jeonghan said? or was there a possibility of being something more?

warnings | none (in teaser)

notes | inspired from this post i made a while back! bc this was inspired by events that happened irl, i had to make it an oc so that things made sense (like their names) read the fic here!

“You should ask me why we’re in here instead of sleeping like everyone else.”

I let out a sigh that ended in a laugh. “Okay, Jeonghan. Why are we in here instead of sleeping like everyone else?”

Jeonghan immediately straightened his back and turned his body to face me, and I mirrored his movements. The way he looked at me with shining, excited eyes reminded me of the same 5-year old who enjoyed pulling on my pigtails and playing hide-and-seek.

Despite growing a lot in the past decade together, there were still some parts of Yoon Jeonghan that never seemed to change. For example, that mischievous look on his face whenever he was about to do something he wasn’t supposed to. 

“Wait here.” Jeonghan disappeared outside and I couldn’t help but smile at his excited, almost child-like demeanor. Resting my head against the wall, I looked up and saw the sloped ceiling decorated with glow-in-the-dark stars.

The door soon opened again and Jeonghan reappeared with a single cupcake, a match, a candle, and two mini party hats. “I know we all got in trouble with our parents today so we can’t celebrate New Year’s, but I still wanted to do something for you. I know how much you love New Year’s celebrations.”

It was true. When all six of us had gotten in trouble earlier that evening because Jeonghan convinced all of us to try and help him set up a booby trap in his grumpy neighbor's backyard involving popping firecrackers, I was greatly disheartened when our parents decided that our punishment would be a bedtime of 9:30 and no New Year’s celebration.

I was particularly more upset than others because my parents had promised me a year ago that this New Year’s celebration would be the year where I finally got to try champagne.

“Jeonghan, I-” I faltered. I couldn’t find the words to describe how grateful I was to have him at that moment. 

Jeonghan scrambled to sit in the empty spot next to me. “You can thank me and be impressed later, just put this hat on. We only have a minute left.” He snapped on his own party hat before sliding its identical piece over my own head.

With a shaky hand, Jeonghan struck the match and lit the candle that was stuck atop the cupcake. We had made these cupcakes earlier today, with the help of our siblings. It had always been a tradition of ours.

My family would go over to the Yoon family’s house for the New Year’s and we would spend the night. Jeonghan, his older brother, and I were the older ones so we usually resorted to playing video games, board games, and baking while our younger siblings played with toys or watched TV. Our time together was always fun and a big highlight of my winter break every year.

But two years ago, when Jeonghan and I kissed in the summer, something changed. Our conversations became more stiff and awkward and he seemed to avoid me and my text messages more often.

When I consulted my mother about this situation (minus the kissing part), she had laughed and told me, “It’s because both of you are going through puberty now. It’s okay, it’s natural! Your relationship is going to return to normal in no time.”

Albeit it did take two years and a global pandemic for the two of us to be back on speaking terms again, but I was thankful to have my best friend back.

Jeonghan looked at me with a bright smile as he softly began to count down, his phone propped up against the wall so we could keep an eye on the clock. The single flame of the candle seemed to reflect the hundreds and thousands of stars that Jeonghan held within his eyes. His long lashes fluttered against his pale cheek bone and that tear-shaped mole on his right cheek that I had always been fond of. 

“Five… four…” I joined him in the count down, our hands holding the small cupcake together. 

I’d grown to accept the fact that Jeonghan wanted to pretend that kiss never happened. I did a lot of thinking and reflecting to realize that it was our silly pre-pubescent emotions that had gotten the best of us in that moment. It never meant anything.

“Two… one! Happy new year!” Jeonghan cheered. “One, two, three!”

11 years of friendship helped me to immediately recognize Jeonghan’s intent when he began counting again.

When he reached 3, the two of us blew at the single candle and the flame flickered for a moment before it disappeared, leaving a small trail of white smoke in its wake. Jeonghan pulled the candle out of the cupcake and I dipped my finger into the frosting and smeared it across my best friend’s cheek.

Jeonghan smiled with a mischievous glint in his eyes before dipping this thumb into the white frosting and spreading it across my forehead. “Simbaaaaa.”

We both erupted into a fit of childish giggles as I tried to smear another glob of dense, sweet frosting onto his face, but he dodged my hand successfully. But because Jeonghan was blessed by the genetic gods and had much longer arms than I did, he was able to reach over and smudge another spot of white frosting onto the top of my nose.

“Ewww!” I cried loudly.

Jeonghan tried to shush me but it was too late. We heard a door upstairs opening, and a pair of footsteps moving down the stairs. Jeonghan and I held onto each other with bated breaths and when we heard the footsteps slowly fade away, we let out a quiet sigh of relief.

“Maybe they’re just grabbing water or some-” As Jeonghan whispered into my ear, the doorknob of the small door rattled and opened, revealing Mrs. Yoon, half disheveled with a face mask.

I clamped a hand over my mouth to suppress the giggle that was threatening to erupt as Jeonghan fumbled to find the right words. “H-hi, mom. We were just-”

“Out. Both of you. Now.”

Uh oh.

PLEASEEE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK

and as always, reblogs and feedback is always appreciated ^-^

[merakiui]

boyfriend.

yandere!female!riddle rosehearts x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, implied (cyber)stalking, cheating, dub-con, alcohol/intoxication, characters written as 18+ note - riddle seeks to prune the filthy weeds from your life, starting with your ill-mannered boyfriend. // inspired by dove cameron's boyfriend.

i. i can’t believe we’re finally alone. i can’t believe i almost went home. what are the chances? everyone’s dancing, and he’s not with you.

Riddle has never traveled to this part of the city before—the seedy, unsavory sliver overshadowed by towering skyscrapers, illicit, perilous secrets tucked away in every alley. It’s not as if she’s here under duress. Although if you were to frame it from her perspective, it would feel less like an active, consensual choice and more of a you’ve-forced-my-hand choice. It’s blatant rule-breaking all the same, a stain on her delicate character. Blight on her shiny social status as a golden child, forever marked as the obedient one.

She’s lived her rebellious streak, was punished swiftly and accordingly, and strived to be better in the aftermath. It was one thing to slip out during independent study, and that fun had been trampled upon by a cruel, heeled foot. That was a child’s error. A lesson learned. A valid reason to sever all distractions and improve academically, consequently maturing with sharp, sparkling intelligence and abysmal social skills. 

But Riddle is no longer that starry-eyed, impressionable child, and she does not make the same mistake twice.

Or so she’s always believed, but she’s willing to risk an unforgiving tongue-lashing and life imprisonment at the hands of her mother if it means she can fix things. No matter how she spins it, the truth remains the same: She’s fallen back on an old habit, sneaking out and keeping secrets. She’s an open book to Trey, though, who she’d taken care to message on the train ride into the city, her text mostly cryptic: Should anything happen, this is where I’ll be. It’s wrong to skirt around the truth, especially when it’s your closest friend. She knows this, but then she also knows Trey gives terribly good advice. The type of terribly good advice you often don’t want to hear.

Advice like: “You need to let her go.”

And Riddle can’t—won’t. 

So she steps into the digital footprints left by that brash, brutish party animal you lovingly call your boyfriend, and she follows the string of social media posts like a diligent detective, flicking through each with manicured fingernails. She commits them to memory so that they remain imprinted in her mind before they’ll eventually expire at the twenty-four hour mark.

In the days leading up to tonight, Cater had taken her out for their usual self-care makeover day, which was really just a day dedicated to dressing up and gossiping at the salon. It was a monthly arrangement, and it kept the both of them entertained and sane. The latter of those two was called into question when Riddle, wholly out of character, selected black nail polish for her mani-pedi, which left Cater looking on with brewing curiosity. She gazed at him, pouty lips upturned slyly, and said, “I thought I’d give red a temporary break.”

“Oh, but red is so your color!” he insisted, raising his phone to capture both of them in frame. 

Riddle smiled at the camera. “I know.”

It has always been her color, a staple in her closet. It’s a favorite she can never truly shake, hence why it stains her lips instead. Bright like arterial blood, a blossoming carnation, it stands out starkly on her pale countenance—the only splotch of color on her person. Cater took her shopping when he’d learned she was attempting to fit a new style into her wardrobe of prim, modest clothes. They ran up and down the racks, grinning at each other from across the store and holding up sweaters and skirts, weighing whether either would suit Riddle’s night out. In the end, she settled for the outfit she wears now: a red tube top, a cropped puffer jacket, a pencil skirt that doesn’t pass the fingertip test (not that she cares to follow that rule), tights, and knee-high heeled boots. To finish the look, she’s pulled her hair from its usual plaits, allowing it to cascade down her back like a crimson waterfall. Fingerless lace gloves adorn her hands, stitched with intricate patterns of roses and thorns.

Cater called it the Femme Fatale Friday fit. It’s a Saturday night, but it feels like Friday when she peers at her reflection in a pocket mirror, checking her makeup once more. 

She will not make the same mistake twice. She’s a paragon of perfection—Riddle Rosehearts, for seven’s sake! 

Stuffing the mirror into a matching handbag, she eyes the skyscraper looming before her, sleek with its metal framework and industrial glass. The bright cityscape reflects off of each window, dazzling with luminous specks of light. She considers the contents in her purse, reviews each with a critical eye, and inhales a steadying breath. 

This is necessary.

She’s an adult now, nearly finished with her graduate studies. She lives on her own in a quaint, pet-friendly apartment with her hedgehog, and she works part-time at the café down the street, putting forth her best effort as she weathers the woes of university. Despite all of this independence, she doesn’t feel like an adult. 

Not when she can hear her mother in the back of her head: You look ridiculous. Come home right now before you make a fool of yourself and sully my good name.

Riddle scowls at the concrete, curling her fingers into fists. 

She’s an adult now. She is not her mother’s doll.

Leaving all hostility and self-doubt at the door, she steps through the lobby and beelines for the lift. It carries her to her destination—one of the highest floors. A penthouse suite. 

And not just any penthouse suite. Floyd Leech’s penthouse suite.

Under normal circumstances, she would never willingly set foot in his territory. She survived four years of school with him, which was already a sickening amount, and in that time she watched him glide through his undergraduate with just barely passing grades. That wasn’t enough to stoke the red-hot embers of envy, though. It only made him seem even more like a cockroach, unable to be crushed by the weight of scholarly responsibilities, for he never took anything seriously.

For that reason, Riddle has never envied Floyd. But by the end of their third year, he had something Riddle didn’t. 

He had you. 

How he managed to settle into a relationship when all he did was slack off, party, and break the rules was beyond Riddle. He was a slippery delinquent, hardly deserving of your sweet affections, and yet you looked at him like he was the only one on the planet. Just where was the appeal? His manner of dress is sloppy. The way he carries himself is unpalatable and crude. The way he acts suggests his insipience is incurable. Even when he applies himself, he is still Floyd and that doesn’t clean his slate or shine his reputation. So in Riddle’s discerning eyes, he does not possess a scintilla of romantic appeal.

You don’t seem to agree with these sentiments, for you’ve been with Floyd for four long years. 

Love is blinding, but Riddle has never been in love before and so she doesn’t have adequate data to prove this point. It was forbidden in her home. She’s only allowed to love the men her mother handpicks, plucking each specimen like they’re ripened strawberries from a bush. In the beginning she found all manner of minor details to excuse them from her life, insisting upon a nonexistent list of impossibly high standards. He was too tall. He was too forward with his interest. He wore contrasting colors. He didn’t like tea. These reasons were far too critical and childish, and each man had been sent away in a huff. Her mother would scold her, halving her with a nasty glare: “Are you planning to die alone?”

Yes, Riddle realized by the twentieth admonishment, yet another man cast aside. If dying alone means romantic freedom in life, I’ll do just that.

The elevator spits her out into the hall, which isn’t as silent as she thought it’d be. Bass shakes through the walls, reverberating all the way through her ribs as if it intends to stir up her organs. She catches her reflection in the windows, noting the dark, monstrous scowl, and smooths her face into something courageous. She means business as she clicks down the hall, preparing herself for the whirlwind that undoubtedly waits behind the door. Riddle starts to wonder how Floyd’s neighbors have yet to file a noise complaint and then stops, her thoughts cutting off abruptly. It’s a challenge to make complaints when your father holds parts of the city’s underground in his palms.

He’s got it easy, that spoiled pest. 

Riddle’s gait slows to a halt and she reaches out to knock thrice. The door is thrown open before she can even bring her fist down. Soon she’s staring at a rosy-cheeked stranger, whose eyes trace her figure like he’s trying to paint her on his mental canvas. She’s prepared for the worst, having tucked the spray in her bag, its container disguised to look like lipstick. The strawberry keychain hanging from her purse is a self-defense alarm, ready to be pulled at a moment’s notice. His ogling does not frighten her, nor do his intentions, if he can even harbor any in that intoxicated brain of his. She’s braved scarier horrors. Like living out years of her life with her mother.

“Heyyy, you one of Floyd’s girls? Here for the party?”

Riddle suppresses the disgusted shiver threatening to crawl up her spine, swallowing bile. “Just the party.” 

She is no one’s girl. Definitely not Floyd’s. 

When she’s let inside and the stench of sweat and alcohol assault her nostrils, coupled with the too-loud party music, she considers retreating, her mother’s judgment echoing: You look ridiculous. Her fingers twitch towards her purse. One text and Trey would pick her up. One call and Cater would be on his way. But then she’d be forced to tell them the truth—would have to admit that she’s chasing the one person she can never have. 

She hardens her resolve, pushes through the throng of bodies in an effort to find refreshments, and there you are, her perfect, pretty wallflower in a perfect, pretty silver dress. The dim neon lighting casts you in a luscious pink haze, and she watches you scroll through your phone, your eyelids falling and opening. You’re so beautiful—the sweetest thing she’s ever seen, more saccharine than a truckload of strawberry tarts. Her hand slides away from her purse, and she tamps down a gleeful smile, stepping over to you with newfound confidence.

“(Name)?”

You turn your whole body towards her, your gaze unfocused. She can smell the liquor on you, can see the hickeys not quite covered by a velvet choker. Her gaze narrows. He’s all over you, isn’t he? From top to bottom, you are covered in traces of him. Her nose scrunches. Just what do you see in him?

It should be her teeth on your skin, tearing it open, bruising it, tasting slick copper on her tongue. It should have always been her, but it’s not. Why did you have to settle for less when you’re entitled to so much more?

You peer at her like she’s something in a museum, perplexing and abstract. And then it clicks. You gasp, your mouth falling open in awe, and your words come out horribly slurred. She fails to hide her wince when you throw your arms around her, hanging off of her like a tote on a shoulder.

“Riddle! You…seriously showed up… Can’t believe it’s really you. It feels like it’s been forever.” You pull away, swaying with the motion, and place your hands on her arms. “Your outfit is suuuper cute.”

She’s blushing. She knows she is because her face is burning with heat and suddenly it’s much too stifling in here. “Oh. Ah, um, t-thank you very much… You look very nice, too.”

Really? Is that the best thing I could say? ‘You look very nice’? Honestly, Riddle…

But you smile, and the sight steals her heart all over again. You can have it. By all means take her heart. Take it and love it to pieces. That way it will be fair when she takes yours. An even exchange in accordance with the rules of love. 

Or maybe it’s more so the rules of romantic warfare, carried out to the extreme on a chessboard. Or a croquet court. Something sporty and metaphorical, anyway.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” she asks, refusing to say his name lest she speak him into existence and tarnish her near-perfect evening.

Her question strikes a chord within you, and you heave an exaggerated sigh. You cross your arms over your chest, leaning against the wall for support. “Left me to go hang with the guys. S’not fair!” you whine, sliding further down until you’re sitting in a defeated heap. 

Riddle bends down to your height, her tone as soft and sympathetic as her expression. “Does he always do this?”

Hurt flashes across your face, but you don’t say anything. So he does. Why is she not surprised?

Who in the world leaves their partner at a party, vulnerable and alone? Riddle thinks, anger flaring up in her chest. Someone could take advantage of you. You’re in no state to be standing here by yourself. That fool… He doesn’t know how to treat a lady at all. How have you put up with him for four years? Your patience amazes me.

“It’s not like…” You shut your eyes and rest your head against the wall. “Not like an always-happening thing…”

Riddle isn’t going to sugarcoat it. She wants her words to cut deep, all the way to the heart you’ve allowed Floyd to bind. “Whether or not he does it often, the fact still stands that he left you intoxicated in the corner of this room. That’s careless and unsafe.” She tilts her head, admiring the way you’ve done your makeup, the way your plush lips jut out in a miserable pout. And it just rushes out, words she’s thought but never had the courage to say. At least, not to the sober you. “I wouldn’t do that to you. You deserve so much better.”

Like me, she almost adds, but that’s too direct. And she’s not even sure the admission will land when you’re so out of it.

“Appreciate it…” You scrub your face, groaning. “Ugh. I feel sick…”

“Would you like to get some fresh air?” 

You shake your head, stubborn to a fault. “Can’t. Gotta wait for Floyd.”

Riddle frowns. “I highly doubt he’s coming back anytime soon.” 

“Still.”

“At the very least, let’s get you some water.” She offers her hand, hoping and praying to the heavens above that you’ll take it.

You do. It’s a flawless fit. Her heart flutters, weightless and feathery, when her fingers close around yours. She wonders what moisturizer you use, what sort of lotions kiss your skin. Are they scented, or is that just your perfume? Or have you done away with perfume for tonight and is that a natural fragrance? Or maybe it’s the sweet scent of a fruity wine, printed on your tongue like a delicious tattoo. 

She wants to kiss you. 

“Just how much have you had to drink?” 

“Like a cup or two? I…dunno. Does it matter?”

You stumble when she helps you up, grabbing at her shoulder for support. Riddle almost falls back, but the wall braces her. You place your palm right by her head, and suddenly you’re leaning in, inadvertently pinning her to the wall. Her pupils nearly eclipse her blue-grey irises, and her breath sticks in her throat. Oh, you’re so close. You’re a drunken mess, pushing yourself up against her, your beauty enveloping her like a chrysalis. If this is a dream, she never wants to wake, for the world that awaits her beyond this is cold and colorless. 

Your head lowers to the dip between shoulder and neck, and she gazes heavenward. The ceiling is much nicer at this moment, if only so she can clear her own heady haze of impure thoughts. 

There are people about, she has to remind herself, shaking off the urge to close her fingers around your chin and tilt your head up to meet her mouth. And she has a boyfriend. Just because I can doesn’t mean I should.

But the chance is much too beguiling. You’re right here, quite literally within her reach, and Floyd’s nowhere in sight. It’s too perfect. She can’t quite wrap you in an affectionate embrace—though that is an irresistible urge she must fight off—so she settles to rub circles into your back instead, dutifully reflecting the role of a concerned friend. It’s not the part she wishes to play. Rather, she’d gladly take on the title of boyfriend if it meant you’d feel loved. Every day, at every hour, for the rest of your life. She’d do all the things Floyd ought to do: care for you, appreciate you, protect you, stay by your side through thick and thin. 

Love is a dangerous, thorny thing, but it’s the encroaching jealousy that kills. 

Floyd doesn’t deserve you. If anything, he deserves a mouth full of soap to scrub every profanity he’s ever uttered. Just what does he tell you in bed? That you’re a good girl? That you’re soooo tight? That you can take it? Does he know which ways you like it? Does he know where to touch so you’ll unravel faster? Does he know how to get you properly, thoroughly worked up, so much so that it feels like your skin is aflame with potent want and desire? 

Does he even know your anatomy, or are you simply a body for his avaricious appetite? 

Like roses twining possessively around a trellis, Riddle holds you close in her arms, her hand sweeping across your lower back. Her glacial eyes scan the crowd, warding off anyone who may be curious with her most malevolent death stare. 

“Mm… I need to lie down. My head is…spinning…”

With that, the murderous, overprotective haze sticking to Riddle like a poisonous fog dissipates. A sickly sweet smile widens on ruby-red lips. “Let’s find someplace quiet.”

Together, the two of you stagger-walk out of the room, leaving the party and its inhabitants behind. Crossing through the attached kitchenette, Riddle pilfers a bottled water from the fridge.

Her mind is sharp as a cut diamond. Her skin prickles with anticipation.

Down the hall you go, with Riddle supporting you with what minimal physical strength she has. A door looms before the both of you, cast in a comfortable glow from a neighboring skyscraper, and you struggle to pull your heels off while she pushes the door open. It reveals a messy room, clothing and candy wrappers strewn about sloppily. 

Riddle feels like she’s on top of the world, and she is. Up in the clouds on the forty-third floor of this luxurious penthouse apartment. 

ii. i could be a better boyfriend than him. i could do the shit that he never did. up all night, i won’t quit. 

All throughout her undergraduate, Riddle pined. Hopelessly. Forlornly. Desperately.

Hungrily. 

It was unbecoming to want something to such an obsessive degree. She buried herself in her studies to do away with lustful delusions, each more distracting than the last. But then you would crop up in her life when she least expected it and soon the two of you were studying together. Soon you were visiting her dorm to watch movies during the times in which she allowed herself the break (and she only did so because it was you). Soon you were spending nights in her room, sleeping sprawled on the floor even though she offered her bed time and time again. You’d get ready in the mornings, debating what the breakfast menu would entail. She’d watch your reflection in the floor mirror as you pulled your shirt up and over your head, eyeing the way you slid seamlessly into a lacy black bra. And then she’d change out of her nightgown, and you’d comment on her undergarments. 

“We should go shopping sometime. You gotta get cuter stuff!”

“Why should I? No one’s going to see it,” she insisted with a flustered huff.

“I’ll see it the next time I sleep over,” you told her, smiling innocently as you stepped into a blue handkerchief skirt. “Besides, there are so many cute sets you could wear. You’d look so pretty in something red and frilly. You’re totally missing out.”

Riddle considered it back then. Your eager eyes had almost won her over, but she was firm in her decision. “I’m fine with what I have now.” 

And the conversation ended there. She really wishes you would have pushed it back then because just a little nudge in that direction and she would have given in, entirely at your mercy. 

Selfishly, she just yearned to be stuck in a changing stall with you. 

All throughout her undergraduate, Riddle fostered a special sort of friendship with you. You’d stop by her dorm during finals to insist she take a break, your offer too tempting. She’s always been weak to sweets. You were close enough to exchange intimate details with one another. She listened to all of your dating woes, and conversely you’d sit still and bear witness to her ramblings about fascinating law facts. Sometimes she’d rant about her mother. You always listened. “She sounds like she sucks,” you said once. “How are you even related to her? You’re so nice.”

It was a pleasant three years. If she deluded herself enough, she could have pretended you were her girlfriend and then she’d have something to tell her mother to put an end to the countless attempts at scoring her a husband. I will never marry any of your options, she would think, playing the confrontation out in her head. I have a partner now and we’re very happy together. Sometimes Riddle imagined her mother tossing darts at a board with photographs of men attached to it, disregarding compatibility altogether in favor of upholding traditional rules. But then Riddle realized she’d have to die before she could ever admit her own romantic freedoms to her mother, and so that conversation only ever came about in daydreams. 

I’d rather die alone than live life shackled in a loveless marriage. She wonders if her father thought the same.

Those three years had been a wonderful reality, filled with sugared, candy-coated love. A one-sided love, sure. But Riddle could settle for platonic affections, for that was just as sweet.

And then he arrived at the doorstep to Riddle’s fantasy cottage, kicking the walls down and sweeping you off your feet.

Floyd Leech has always been a nuisance. You were there to shoo him away every time he came knocking, all broad grins and vexatious jeers. He listened to you most days, a mutt without proper leashing, oddly loyal to you. As if you were his keeper of sorts. Riddle was amazed, befuddled, and worried all at once. Unlike her, you could keep your cool, could still smile so kindly even when Floyd was being an utter pain in the ass with his foolish nicknames. When he tried to pluck Riddle’s hairpin from out of her braids—a handmade gift you had given her for her birthday—she slapped him hard across the face and hissed, “Don’t ever put your filthy paws on me again.”

And maybe it was because you were there that she was able to recover shortly after the outburst. (Although she still meant that slap with every fiber of her being.) Maybe you were her collar. Maybe you were her keeper. Maybe she was meant to meet you so that you could color her world, lead her along into the friendship she’d been robbed of as a child. 

Looking back, Riddle realizes that was the catalyst. Because when Floyd cradled his bright-red cheek, giggling like a maniac, you asked him, “Don’t you have anything better to do? Can’t you bother someone else?”

And then you were made the prime target. 

What’s worse is that you reveled in it, adored every ounce of attention Floyd gave you like it was something holy, later admitting to Riddle during a movie marathon that you “wondered if Floyd was seeing anyone.” She wanted to retch. You, a seraph incarnate, with a devil like Floyd? Impossible. But your tone was so whimsical; you were dreaming of it. You liked him. 

She couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it.

By the end of her third year, just as finals gave way to summer, you threw your arms around Floyd’s neck while he pressed you up against the trunk of a flowering tree. Pink petals fluttered to the ground, and with the falling blossoms came Riddle’s hope, crashing and burning in a heartbroken heap. 

She won’t make the same mistake twice, which is precisely why, when you flop onto Floyd’s unmade bed, she turns the lock to keep all outside influences away. The party is but a mere muffle now, thrumming through the floorboards with reckless abandon.

Her nose wrinkles at the pile of dirty laundry. Slob, she thinks, brimming with hate. What does she see in you? You’re a mess, you’re definitely a criminal, you can’t keep a stable job, you throw obnoxious parties every other week, you leave your own girlfriend unattended… What part of that is appealing? She gazes at you next. You’re too good for him, (Name). You can do so much better. Raise your standards. Find someone respectable and attentive. Someone who’ll stay with you forever. Someone who won’t let you get stupidly drunk and then run off to Queen-knows-where.

“Someone like me,” she mutters.

You have to be coerced into drinking, and you’re so sleepy that the water dribbles down your chin. Riddle tuts at you, swiping the liquid away with her sleeve. 

“You’re a mess,” she says, affectionate despite the barb. 

You’re my mess.

She slides your heels off, casting them elsewhere. You look like a starfish when you lay sprawled, or maybe you’re more like a snow angel. Only rather than snow, you imprint yourself amongst wrinkled sheets. Riddle knows it’s wrong, but you’re right here. She’s waited so many years for a moment like this one.

It’s not fair. 

She unzips her boots, kicks them off, and stands at the edge of the bed, locked in a fierce debate. You should have thrown your arms around her that day. You should have kissed her, should have spent the last four years with her, should have stayed in her life like the permanent fixture you were destined to be. She’s never wanted anything more than this. Not even a surplus of strawberry tarts. Not even the dreams she’s working tirelessly towards achieving. She’s only ever wanted you. 

But Floyd took you away, and her world has never been the same since. 

The mattress dips under her weight; she’s made up her mind. 

“Do you remember the promise we made?” she whispers, running her hands up your legs. You lift your head to look at her, eyes glassy with inebriated exhaustion. “The one in which we’d live together after graduation? You said you’d want to live somewhere pet-friendly so we could get hedgehogs and name them Tweedledee and Tweedledum.”

You hum, your lashes fluttering. 

“We could still do that. Just you and me. Without your boyfriend.”

“What?”

Her fingers catch on the waistband of your panties. “Hm?” 

“Mm, no, nothing… You should get going. It’s late…” “Someone has to look after you.”

“Floyd can.”

She presses her thumbs into your hips and the tiniest gasp leaves your parted lips. “But Floyd’s not.”

“He will.”

“He won’t,” she snaps. Something flickers in your eyes, a flash of unrest. Riddle chews her lower lip. “He’s… (Name), what do you see in him? Honestly, truly, what is it? Please educate me. Please… What does he have that I don’t? What makes you stay?”

“Cuz he’s my boyfriend,” you mutter slowly, perplexed, “and I love him.”

“Do you?” 

“Riddle, why are you so…” The words fizzle out on your tongue when her touch strays too close to home. “Wait… We can’t… Not in here.”

“Why not? It’s just one more mess. He won’t even notice.”

“That’s not it… Riddle, wait. I… I don’t like you in that—”

She collapses, anchoring herself to you, her manicured nails digging deep into your arms. And then her mouth is on yours, clumsy and uncoordinated. She doesn’t want to hear it—can’t bear to hear it. She knows the truth. It’s haunted her from the day she met you, a shadow looming like a guillotine’s blade. You were fated to be forever out of reach. Just like those strawberry tarts in the bakery window. The kiss is filthy, all desire and zero skill. Her tongue flashes into your mouth. It’s nothing like the way they describe it in fiction or portray it in films. It’s obscene. Sinful. Libidinous. Her lipstick smears; she tastes the wine in your throat, licks your teeth and nibbles your lip, delicate and gruesome all at once. She tries her best, unyielding. 

The technique doesn’t matter. Not now, anyway. It’s just blind, unrequited passion. She’ll learn it eventually and when she does she’ll kiss you drunk. It’s just another thing she’ll master. And she will because that’s just who she is. Give her a textbook and she’ll have it memorized. Give her a kiss and she’ll return to practice it to perfection. 

She pulls away, panting, her lipstick in disarray. It’s all over you, smudging on the corners of your mouth. Running a hand through her hair, her figure outlined in the tantalizing glow from the city lights, she licks her lips. 

“Riddle…” 

Spoken soft like prayer, it’s a whisper she’ll treasure. Over and over, without end, repeat it like a mantra. 

“Riddle, please…”

“He doesn’t know anything about your preferences, does he?” Your dress is slid up next. She traces a heart into your bare stomach, capturing your navel in invisible lines. You shudder under her touch, grabbing at her wrist with a limp hand. She brings it up to her lips and presses a chaste kiss to the top of it. “I know you much better than he does. I always have.”

To prove it, she presses two fingers to your clothed pussy. You whine, reedy and high-pitched. “But…”

“I read it takes fourteen minutes for women to reach their end during partnered sex.” She levels you with a half-lidded stare, smirking. What she lacks in skill, she makes up for in raw confidence. “I’ll only need less than that, so you won’t have to feign anything for my sake. I know you well enough, my rose.”

A wide range of emotions waltzes across your countenance. Your arm falls over your face next. It’s defeat or hesitant acceptance, but to Riddle it’s love. 

“Ten minutes,” you whisper, conceding. “And then…you need to leave.”

She makes you cum in just five, covers you in lipstick prints, each kiss a sly cover-up. Floyd may be all over you, bites and bruises blooming new and old, but he’s not inside you, wringing you out like a sodden towel. You sob like you’re in heat when she sinks her fingers into your slick warmth, scissoring so slowly, until you’re begging her to make you cum again. Your fluids soak through the sheets. The scent of sex and sweat hangs heavy in the air. She’s alive, wildly untamed, a knight who’s just rescued the princess and slayed a bloodthirsty dragon. 

Her head is between your thighs next, her hands braced on either leg to keep them apart. You watch her with glazed eyes, soon throwing your head back when she slides your hood up to reveal your pretty, pert clit. Experimentally, she licks a teasing stripe up your slit. You shiver and dig your fingers into her scalp, imprisoning her there. It’s where she’s always wanted to be. 

“Tell me,” she murmurs, the words fanning across your pussy, “if he’s so good, why haven’t you proven it? Is this the most you’ve ever cum in a night? Does he please you or do you please him? If he’s everything you’ve ever wanted, why are you still so unsatisfied?” 

“Because… B-Because!”

Your protests are fragmented and spotted with gasps. That’s arguably more telling than a detailed response. 

Riddle smiles like a Cheshire, her eyes narrowed victoriously. Spidery digits creep along your thighs. Her thumbs dip into your pussy, spreading it wide for her viewing pleasure. “Don’t think of him. Tonight, it’s just you and me. I’ll give you what you’re owed. That and so much more.”

Like a fragile statue, you topple. Right into her, bucking against her mouth like the world is ending, and she’s there to steady you.

She always is.

iii. i’m gonna steal you from him. i could be such a gentleman. plus, you know my clothes would fit.

“Sooo… Gimme the goss. How was your night out?”

Riddle looks up from an assortment of nail polish colors, each one more red than the last, and says, “It was more enjoyable than I thought.”

“Yeah?” Cater prompts, brows raised. “Don’t be so vague! I wanna know all the juicy details. It’s rare for you to stay out so late. And to go to a party, of all things, in the city? Hello?! New Riddle, who’s this?” 

“I was only meeting an old friend.”

“That’s what they all say.”

The technician asks her to pick a color. “This one,” she says, pointing. “The one named Sanguine Sunrise.” 

“You’re totes keeping me in the dark!” Cater whines, dramatic. “At least give Cay-Cay some hints! Something! Anything! Spare change, please?”

Riddle smiles smugly. Pride drips from every syllable when she speaks next. “My friend will be spending this Valentine’s Day alone.”

“Bummer.”

“Not quite. She’ll have me and half-priced chocolates. A rather charming combination, no?”

Cater laughs. “GL. I’m rooting for you.”

You don’t need to, she thinks, tracing the love bite stamped into her skin, hidden under the soft fabric of her blouse. Because I’m already winning.

Her phone buzzes with a text: about last night… if i did anything weird, i’m so sorry. i was way too drunk. 

Riddle turns it over, dips her feet in the heated water, and settles into the massage chair, pleased as a peach. “It was one bad decision. Four years of bad decisions, but it’s forgiven. We all make silly mistakes when we’re lovestruck. Hopefully her silly mistake disappears for good and we never have to speak of him again.”

“You’re so scary, Riddle. Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

Another message arrives: i think we might’ve kissed last night. i’m really super sorry.

There’s a brief delay.

ok this is gonna sound weird coming from me but maybe we can do it again??? floyd’s kisses are sorta… :/ 

Her phone vibrates for the final time that afternoon.

actually i’m just gonna stop talking omg i’m crazy. i have a bf and everything. sorry riddle please ignore all of this kk tysm ttyl <3

wait one more text before i forget,, if you wanna meet up for tea i wouldn’t mind. we should definitely catch up when i’m not hungover. kk bye fr this time <3

A start is a start. You can’t grow a rose tree without first planting a seed.

[makethatelevenrings]

Skeletons in the Closet // D. Grayson x gn!reader

Requested? Yep!

Warnings: reader is followed home at night!!! if anyone ever follows you home, you have my consent to beat the everloving shit out of them!!!! your life is far more valuable to a fucking creeps!!!

Summary: While being followed home after work, you get a call from your boyfriend. He sends in some help from a friend. Things are realized.

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck fuck.

With your keys clutched tightly between your thumb and palm and your pepper spray poking out from your grip, you hurried down the street with your heart racing faster each step. Another glance over your shoulder confirmed it. You were being followed.

You had to stay late at work because two of your coworkers had the flu and this was the punishment you got for trying to be nice. Fuck this. Fuck capitalism. Fuck the world and having to be scared walking to your fucking apartment.

And just your luck, the red line stop near your apartment was closed for repairs to the platform structure so that meant you had to walk an extra four blocks to get home. Fuck.

Your phone buzzed in your hand and you nearly jumped out of your skin at the sudden jolt to your system. With shaking hands you swiped your thumb across the screen and pressed it against your cheek as you kept walking.

“Hello?” You really hoped that the person on the other line couldn’t hear the pure, visceral fear in your voice but you doubted it.

“Hey. I was just calling because you never texted that you left work or got home.” Oh. Right. Your boyfriend of three months, Dick Grayson, was a perfect gentleman and he always appreciated a text from you when you got home at night, whether it was from work or a night out with friends. He didn’t care if you were out late partying. He just wanted to make sure you were home safe at the end of the night.

“Right, shit. Sorry. I just got out of work a half hour ago and…” You glanced back at the guy following you and dropped your voice. “Someone’s following me. I’m about ten minutes max away from my apartment and I’ve got pepper spray, but you should know that I-”

“Where are you?” His voice had grown frigid in the time you were rambling and you peered up at the street sign you just passed.

“Avalon and Fifth.”

Dick inhaled deeply and then said something away from the phone, as though he was talking to someone in the background. He moved back closer to the phone and started talking quickly.

“Okay, baby, here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to put my friend on the line and she’s going to keep talking to you, okay? And in the meantime, I have another friend in the area and he’s going to come meet you. Keep walking towards your place. Don’t stop moving. Barbara will talk you through it.”

The line clicked before you could say anything and then a calm, pleasant voice filled your ear. “Hi, I’m Barbara. Dick’s told me a lot about you. Did you know he’s kind of obsessed with you?”

The sudden levity of the question elicited a laugh from you as you hurried down the darkened street. You could hear the footsteps getting closer and it made your throat close with anxiety.

“Hey Barbara, what’s going to happen?” you asked quietly.

“Don’t you worry about that. Just keep walking. You’re doing fine. Why did you stay late at work?”

“My coworkers are sick. Flu season and all that.”

“Hmmm, viruses are a bitch.” There was something in her voice that indicated more to her comment than you knew, but you didn’t have time to pry. The closer you got to an ally, the faster the steps sounded until the guy was full on sprinting towards you.

“Fuck,” you gasped as you turned to watch him barrel at you. Before he could get within three feet of you, a blur of black and blue swung down from seemingly nowhere and then Nightwing was standing over him, escrima sticks clutched tightly in his hands.

“Go,” the vigilante barked. He looked back at you and what a sight you probably made. Shaking, phone pressed to cheek and other hand gripping keys and pepper spray, and what felt like tears streaming down your cheeks, you stared back at the mask covered eyes. His chin dipped and you realized that he was inspecting you for some kind of injury. Nightwing raised his head to stare at you once more and then he jutted his chin out towards you in a silent command. The silvery white scar on his lower jar stood out under the light of the street lamps.

“Go,” he repeated. The man below him tried to sit up and the vigilante snapped one of his bludgeons down onto the man’s arm with a sickening crack, eliciting a scream from the man. You almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

You didn’t need another prompting and instead you turned, tucked tail, and sprinted the rest of the way home. You nearly forgot that Barbara was on the other end of the phone until you heard her call your name.

“I’m…I’m okay. I think. I…I’m okay.” Your hands shook so hard as you tried to unlock the door to your apartment that your dropped your keys and cursed under your breath. Scooping them up once more, you tried again and flew into your apartment.

“I’m home. Door’s locked. I’m fine. I…fucking hell. What just happened?”

“Hey, hey,” Barbara said. “Breathe with me, okay? That was a scary situation. Breathe. In two, out three. There we go.”

The fragments and pieces of your scattered brain started to knit an image together of what just happened. As the adrenaline receded, you were able to try and come to terms with the events of that night and one thing stood out to you.

The scar on his chin.

Nightwing’s.

The same scar that you pressed a kiss to in thanks for coffee. The same scar you made sure to pepper with kisses when your boyfriend curled around you and fell asleep against your chest. The same scar that you looked up at when he pulled sweet moans out of your lungs.

“I’m going to kill him,” you hissed.

Barbara barked out a laugh. “Please make sure to film it for me.”

“Oh, I will.” You tossed your keys and pepper spray onto the table just as a shadow passed over the window of your living room. “It’s been nice meeting you, Barbara, but I have to go strangle someone.”

“I’m going to put your number in my phone and we will be getting coffee soon.” You gave her a final goodbye and then stalked towards the window. Your phone tumbled onto the plush cushions of the couch as you passed. Yanking open the window, you stuck your head out and glared at the vigilante standing on the far end of your fire escape.

“So this is why you always make an excuse to not stay the night,” you snapped. Anxiety had turned to rage real quick. Nightwing grimaced and raised his gloved hand to run his fingers through his hair. It was then that you saw the fresh blood that mottled his knuckles and you knew exactly where it came from.

“And also why I make sure you get home at night,” he added quietly. You crooked your finger at him and he complied wordlessly. His footsteps were nearly silent on the old fire escape and you took a moment to marvel at how such a muscular man was able to move so quickly and quietly.

“Is this it? Any more skeletons in your closet?” you asked.

“You know about my family, so no. No more skeletons.”

“I’m going to ask Barbara when we go and get coffee,” you breathed against his lips. Dick paled slightly before he cleared his throat.

“That’s fair.”

“Now get in here and get that suit off. I’m still mad at you but I could really do with a hug right now.”

He didn’t protest.

Tag List: @someoneimsure​ @perpetual-fangirl900​ @visagebrise​ @cursedandromedablack​ @alexxavicry​ @the-wayward-daughter​ @raging-trash-of-mind​ @bunny-kawa​ @khaylin27​

[lazycats-stuff]

Heyo, can I ask for a bat!bro reader who’s around 16 or 17 and they find out that he smokes and drinks? And sometimes some drugs. And he (tries to) hide it from everyone?

If not it’s ok, and I hope ur doing good. Can’t wait to see what you write 🫶

Sure thing. I don't personally drink or smoke, even though I am an adult, but those are things that are prominent in my country. Some people start earlier even... I have digressed, my apologies.

Summary: (Y/N) smokes and drinks. Sometimes experiments with drugs. The problem? He is underage.

Warnings: smoking, underage drinking, DRUGS, experimenting, hiding all of that, lying, partying, cursing

(Y/N) knew that Bruce would kill him if he found out. He knew that sneaking out is not going to pass with Bruce and it could get him punished until he is an adult. But this party he is going to is going to be the best party of the century.

And he didn't want to be the party breaker. His friends were going to be there too and he was going to be damned if he is going to miss it. Thankfully, there wouldn't be anyone in the manor and it would be easier to get out.

They have all made a plan to drive (Y/N). His friend, well, the chauffer of the group, would drive up to the manor, but stay away far enough from the look of the cameras.

But the thing that Bruce would kill him for is his drinking and smoking. And occasional drug use too. But his life is too stressful. Why, I might hear you asking?

Well, the constant pressure of being a son of Bruce Wayne, constant eye of the public on you and constant pressure of being perfect. He turned to smoking first.

It was a way to just let go first. If he took liquor from the cabinets, Bruce and Alfred would know all of it and then he would be in deep shit. He wouldn't be allowed to leave the manor or have any contact with anyone.

He would be on house arrest for the next 2 years.

He took a cigarette and his favorite lighter. But the problem is that there are going to be the people he hates. So he needs to destress before he goes. He opened the window, letting the the cold air in and to let the smoke out.

He put it in his mouth, bringing the flame of the lighter towards his cigarette. He took a long drag, before letting it out. He learnt to let the smoke out in cool ways too, so that was fun to learn.

He let the smoke out through his nose, almost like a bull in the cartoons. He smoked near the window so that the smell could get out.

He sat on the floor, leaning on the wall, his right arm leaning on the window, making sure that the cigarette was out on the roof and that the ashes were falling down on the roof.

He looked at the phone, his friends texting him that they have started going to the manor. (Y/N) just said, okay and shut the phone down. He smoked for 15 more minutes before extinguishing the cigarette on the roof. He stood up and threw it on the roof.

He put the jacket on and started walking towards the front door. He stepped out in the cold air, sighing. Winter has finally come and it will only get worse. He walked to the big gates and pushed them with a little bit of struggle.

When he was out of the property lines, he closed them again. He walked down, zipping his jacket up and then putting his hands in his pockets.

He ran towards the car, getting into the back seat.

" Hello (Y/N)! You ready? " His friend asked and (Y/N) nodded, accepting a bottle of whiskey from his other friend. He took a long swig before giving it back to the front.

" This is party to remember. " The chauffer friend said, getting to the city already.

" I don't think that we will remember it by the morning. " (Y/N) said, smirking at his own joke. The other two laughed too.

This is going to be a night to remember.

(Y/N) finally let loose. A cup of some sort of alcohol in his hand, a cigarette in the other. The music was reverberating through him and he finally enjoyed himself. A few minutes ago, he snorted some cocaine and it made everything ten times better.

He danced with a random boy, just having fun. They rubbed against each other, kissing each other. (Y/N) didn't even know his name, but that didn't matter.

He was cute and really nice to him.

And more importantly, he went to (Y/N)'s school so he was definitely going to hang out and exchange their numbers since (Y/N) didn't have any social media.

It was all well until the sirens were heard. What the actual fuck? Since when does GCPD answers these types of calls? The rest of the time went by in a blur.

" Where is he? " Jason asked as they all ransacked the house for (Y/N).

" The footage shows him leaving around a couple of hours ago. " Tim chimed in, looking at the footage on his phone.

Dick looked at (Y/N)'s room. It looked clean and he started looking for some clues. He looked under the bed, in the drawers and then he looked through the window.

Why would the window be open?

He froze when he saw the cigarettes. What in the hell is going on? Nobody smokes in the family. Jason smokes at his own apartment and the others don't do it.

Damian decided to look at the outside, more so where he was last seen. He walked down, huffing at the stupidity of his brother. He stopped when he saw tire tracks. Somebody picked him up.

Alfred and Bruce guessed that it was just a normal sneaking out thing. Bruce thought about it and he thought about the way to ground his son.

This is insane. Alfred and Bruce waited in the kitchen.

" Alfred, what is going on? " Bruce asked, sighing.

" I don't know sir. But he looked off sir. I swore I could smell cigarettes on his breath, but it was so faint... " Alfred said, rubbing his forehead.

" Somebody drove him. " Damian said, huffing from running back to the manor. Bruce nodded. He didn't do it alone. Okay.

He stepped away when his phone rang. Everyone else joined Alfred and Damian. They wondered where Bruce went and what was going on.

" (Y/N) is in jail. " Bruce said and Jason's jaw dropped. Damian was also shocked, but didn't show it. Tim and Dick looked at one another in shock too.

" What the actual fuck? " Jason asked and for the first time, Alfred didn't say anything.

(Y/N) sighed quietly as he sat in the cell. Turns out that the person who hosted had parents who were drug dealers. And he went to their party. By now, Bruce knows and they have notified him. He knew that there would be no talking his way out of this.

He put his head in his hands, cursing underneath his breath.

If he finds out about cocaine, he is going to get killed. Not only by Bruce, but also by Alfred too. Alfred is going to crucify him if he finds about the cocaine. Oh God please don't let them find out.

" Come on Wayne. " The officer said and (Y/N) had to take a deep breath. He felt dizzy from the alcohol and the cocaine. Oh no.

If he passes out, they will take him to a hospital.

He saw Bruce and he looked pissed. (Y/N) tried to say something, but he stopped due to the black spots. Bruce called him, but (Y/N) was falling by the time Bruce came.

Everything went black and (Y/N) lost consciousness.

(Y/N) woke up later in a hospital bed. He blinked tiredly, freezing when he saw Bruce in the chair.

" You had to have your stomach pumped. " Bruce started and (Y/N) swallowed with a lot of difficulty. " You had a lot of alcohol in your system and you were close to being in a way more serious predicament. " Bruce said standing up.

" But the thing that nearly sent me to the grave is the fact that you used cocaine. " Bruce said through his teeth, now enraged.

" How long? " Bruce asked, taking a breath to try to calm down.

" It's not regular. It's just a few times. " (Y/N) admitted, looking down at his hands. He was ashamed so much that he couldn't look Bruce in the eyes, his own father.

" And the smoking? " Bruce asked, crossing his arms. " Alfred said you smelt of cigarettes and Dick found your 'ashtray'. " Bruce said, using air quotes on the word ashtray.

" I'm sorry. But it's stressful being your son. " (Y/N) tried to explain himself, but Bruce put his hand up.

" I know. It's not easy. But you could have come to us and we would have helped you. " Bruce said, rubbing his forehead. " I don't think I need to tell you that you are going to be grounded. I love you, but I have to nip this in the bud. No going out, all the technology is going to be taken, the only route you will have is school and manor. " Bruce stopped for a moment. " You broke our trust with your unhealthy habits and you need to earn it back. And more importantly, there is no patrol until you get yourself in order. " Bruce said and (Y/N)'s first tears fell.

(Y/N) loved patrolling and this was a nasty hit. Everything else, he could live without it. But patrol? No.

Bruce saw it and knew that patrol punishment did it. He gently embraced his son and (Y/N) cried softly into his chest. Bruce knew that tough love was needed in this situation. He never really used it with others, but now it was needed.

" You are going to get through this and you will be okay. " Bruce comforted, giving him a kiss on the head.

[maximumkillshot]

I Can't Lose You

Warnings: Ok... this is gonna be a long one. Cursing, Lying, pain really... as far as the eye can see. Panic attacks. There is also another warning that I really wanna give but it'll also give a big part away.

Pairing: ? xReader (Another spoiler come on!)

Characters: All of the Stray Kids, OC Soo, Reader

A/N: This is my first posted Stray Kids fic, so if you like it I'll be happy to make more! Feedback is always appreciated! And if you like Supernatural as well here's my masterlist!

Overall Masterlist- Click Here

I Can't Lose You Masterlist-Click Here

ALL WORK IS UNDER ME AND MY BLOG. DO NOT TRY TO REPUBLISH OR STEAL MY WORK, AS THAT IS COPYRIGHTED UNDER ME AND IS CONSIDERED COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT WHICH IS A PUNISHABLE OFFENSE. 

ANY WORK THAT YOU SEE ON OTHER SITES THAT ARE MY WORKS PLEASE NOTIFY ME IMMEDIATELY.

Things started off small, a missed call here, and a late text there. Then, they started to get more sporadic… More suspicious. Most of all, it’s in his eyes. When he’d see the dinner made and packed in the fridge for him. The laundry and dishes done, you passed out on the couch, waiting for him to come home. You didn’t see it, but his face had guilt written all over it. 

You weren’t blind. You saw the lipstick on his collar, and the scent on his clothes. The times that you kept saying, “I know you’re busy” and pecking him on his lips, despite the perfume attacking your senses. 

You figured one of his sister idols hugged him, that’s how it transferred, yeah, that was a comfy thought. It even made complete sense since hugs were a must. 

It was your 3rd anniversary, you had everything planned. All that you asked of him was to show up at said place at said time. That’s quite literally it. You had been planning this for months, even going as far as talking his manager into giving him one weekend off… just one. You also asked him what you could do to make his life just slightly easier. 

Now here you are… alone… at said place at said time. Texting. Calling. No answer. 10 minutes turned into 20 minutes, 20 to 40, 40 to an hour and a half. You sit here on the verge of tears, calling the only person you could. 

“Hey Y/N why are you calling? Is everything okay?” Minho asked. 

“He never showed,” You started crying as you mindlessly picked the petals off of the roses on the table, staring at the card you had gotten him. 

“He’s your husband, what do you mean he didn’t show?!” He yelled. 

You heard in the background, “WHAT?!” there was no mistaking that voice, it was Changbin. 

Then you heard the phone being snatched. 

“Y/N where are you? I’m coming to get you.”

You gave him the address as you tried your best to breathe. You had taken a cab here and nothing is more awkward than breaking down in the back of an Uber. About 20 minutes later you heard Bin behind you. 

“Y/N?” He asked so gently like you’d break… But you already have.

You looked at him, not knowing what to say. “Your best friend’s been lying to me?”... No. You elected to just say, “I don’t know where to go.” because it’s true. You had no clue where to go. 

Binnie smiled at you. A sad, empathetic, whisper of a smile as he said “Let’s start with home, yeah?” He asked. 

You nodded, grabbed the card off of the table, and off you went. 

You had asked the guys to give you guys alone time in the dorm, so everyone was scattered through the city. Bin just happened to be at the Danceracha house when you called. 

You had no clue, but before Bin had even gotten in his car to get you. He texted everyone to meet at the 3Racha house, but NOT to go in before Bin made it to the house with you. He could tell by the look on your face that something was very wrong, and you’d need all of the support you could get. 

When everyone was there, you unlocked the door and Bin was the first to go in. Immediately his jaw dropped as he hung his head. When you came in you heard it.

Moaning… loud moaning. You looked at the floor near the front door, seeing a pair of heels you didn’t recognize. You welcomed the boys in with a pointer finger to your lips. Everyone quietly came in as you toed off your heels, eventually sitting on the couch.

You as well as the boys heard everything… The “I love you” s, the “Feel so much better than her” and finally the nail in the coffin, “I can’t wait to leave her.”

Everyone’s jaws were on the floor at what he was saying and at your reaction to them. You just stared at the wedding photo hanging on the mantle. The thought of losing the boys paralyzing you with fear. 

He continued, “never wanted her…only you… always you,” then, “m’close Baby.” You couldn’t even look at the boys. It wasn’t embarrassing, after all, you aren’t the one cheating on your husband with someone while he’s waiting to celebrate your anniversary.

You couldn’t look because of the overwhelming sadness. It was numbing, aching, sadness.

Another thing you could say is that you should’ve seen it coming. Some of his most popular songs have lyrics about someone else catching his eye.

You can hear his moans getting louder, that's a sign that he’s close so you put the card down, get up, and walk down the hallway. You look at the door that used to mean serenity and happiness, now colored a nauseating dark and gloomy gray.

You open the door and walk in. You see them, your husband and your best friend, writhing around on the bed as they both reach their highs together. You couldn’t find it in you to cry. Not even a little. 

Finally, your husband rolled off of her, giggling and enjoying the high.

The only one who noticed you were there was your best friend, Soo, who has been your friend since you moved here 6 years ago, so you could be closer to the boys. When she saw you, her face turned ghost-white… 

You just put your wedding band on the dresser drawer.

“Fuck you’re so much better than her.” he breathed out… When she didn’t respond, he opened his eyes. The pure chocolate orbs scanned you and wished, just like you, that this was a nightmare.

“Y/N/N” he breathed, you could see the weight on his shoulders as he threw his head back onto the pillow, putting his hands to his face, knowing that he was caught.

“Soo… you have 3 minutes to get dressed and to get the FUCK out of MY HOUSE…” You gritted your teeth as you threw her clothing at her.

As soon as she left you turned your full attention to your husband.

You calmly started changing clothes, taking off the skin-tight black dress that you knew would do something to him (Well thought you knew, rather). You didn’t face him as you changed, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing your body. Halfway through pulling down the dress you grabbed a big sweatshirt and put it on, so when the rest of the dress slid off, He’d never see a thing. You put on sweatpants afterward. 

In your mind, you already know. The last time he will ever see your body was 3 days ago. When you both took a shower together. 

During all of this, he was frozen. You see, when your relationship started you told him, you don’t tolerate cheaters. He knows that and that you are pissed, and rightfully so, but he is also terrified of losing you. As a matter of fact, at this point, that is the only thing he is thinking about. He can’t lose you.

After you changed you started with, “How long?”

“Y/N/N I..”

“HOW LONG?” You barked. Your voice taking a stern and powerful tone.

“Physically, 2 months. Emotionally, almost a year.” His face fell.

“Do you remember what today is?” 

“What?”

“Do you remember what today is?” you asked in a docile tone as you took off your earrings, ones he had gotten for your first anniversary. 

He checked his phone and cursed under his breath, “Baby I--”

That was when you lost it, “YOU DON’T GET TO CALL ME THAT! NOT AFTER YOU SAID IT OVER AND OVER TO HER WHILE YOU WERE FUCKING HER IN OUR BED! IN OUR HOME!”

You tried to stop it from boiling over, but you couldn’t help it when visceral sobs left your throat. You grabbed a duffel bag out of the corner of the room, trying to do your best not to completely collapse. 

“Y/N, what are you doing, talk to me.” He finally got up and put some sweats on. “I know you’re hurting.”

You yelled, “This is beyond hurt!…”, Then your voice cracked as your volume plummeted, sounding and looking so small as you continued, “You have no fucking idea what you just did.”

You started hyperventilating at the gravity of his shitty decisions and the effect it will have on your life. You needed to get away from him. You stumbled out of the room and into the hallway. You couldn’t even call out to Hannie, too close to passing out from hyperventilation. 

Hannie’s ears perked up, your raspy and rapid breathing meant that you were hyperventilating. The next second he’s running to you. 

“Hey hey hey Y/N/N. You need to breathe honey, come with me.” He immediately supported your body, halting all possibility of you diving face first into the floor if you do pass out. Then he essentially dragged you back to where you were sitting. 

You grabbed the card and held it to your chest as Han kneeled in between your legs. He was trying to get you to focus on your breathing and to focus on him, to ground yourself.

As much as you wanted to focus on Han, you couldn’t help but look at that damn photo on the mantle. You wanted that photo so badly to be true again.  You couldn’t help the sobs that came out of your mouth as you hugged the card to yourself. 

When your husband, Chan, finally made his way to the living room he saw everyone there and his face turned nearly colorless. Everyone stared at him except for Han and Bin, who were worried about you more than anything. 

“You don’t understand” and “he doesn’t understand” were all you could repeat as you wept. Rocking back and forth, because no one really could understand, the gravity of what he has been doing. 

Bin tried getting through to you by saying, “Help us understand Y/N/N.” You handed him the card as you continued sobbing, consumed by the sheer pain of what Chan’s done. 

Bin opened the card and his face went from confusion to rage-filled, his features reminding Han of hardened steel. Unwavering, strong, and in this case, pissed off. 

Bin tried to sound as calm as he could, for your sake, as he said, “Hannie, put together an overnight bag for Y/N, don’t forget anything. Innah, take her to my car… she needs to calm down if not we have to go to the hospital.”

As soon as he heard the car door slam, he went off.

“You know out of all of the people I could ever conceive doing this, you would be the last of them!”

“Bin” Chan tried to say something but Changbin cut him off.

“NO! YOU DON’T GET A SAY HERE, CHRIS! YOU FUCKED UP ROYALLY AND NOW YOU DESTROYED YOUR FAMILY!” Bin was visibly shaking with rage as he walked up to Chan. Tears were starting to form in his eyes.

LeeKnow looked visibly confused as he looked to Bin, “What are you talking about?”

Bin threw the content of the card at Chan’s feet. 

Chan looked at what the card had in it, it was unmistakable.

Bin sounded broken as he responded, “Y/N is pregnant.”.

_______________________________________________________

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[saintsenara]

If Voldemort had repented and felt remorse like Harry offered him, what exactly would have happened to him? Would his soul have been healed and he forgiven? I mean, I’m pretty sure he would definitely be thrown into Azkaban for life, but would he be normal again? Like, no longer that bald, no-nose snake face creep and his soul intact.

thank you very much for the ask, @hollyparker! i can think of no question more suitable for this season of allhallowtide.

canon is clear that genuine remorse would have resulted in the fissures in voldemort's soul being healed:

"Isn't there any way of putting yourself back together?" Ron asked. "Yes," said Hermione with a hollow smile, "but it would be excruciatingly painful." "Why? How do you do it?" asked Harry.  "Remorse," said Hermione. "You've got to really feel what you've done. There's a footnote. Apparently the pain of it can destroy you. I can't see Voldemort attempting it somehow, can you?"

so, the only thing necessary to trigger the healing of the soul is the feeling of remorse. there's no need to perform any sort of public penance, nor even to actually say out loud that you're sorry. you just need to be sorry, and the slate of your soul is wiped clean.

[that is - as we'll come to below - your salvation is achieved by faith alone, rather than by works and rituals...]

so yes, voldemort would be forgiven. but only in the theological - rather than the psychological, social, or legal - sense of the word.

his victims wouldn't suddenly be expected to be fine with him, his slate wouldn't be wiped clean in the eyes of the wizarding legal system, and he would still be expected to be punished for what he'd done. if he survives putting his soul back together, instead of dying on the spot, he's definitely looking at life in azkaban - if not a capital sentence - and he'd deserve it. and if he dies, he's still going to be remembered as an evil man, rather than the history of his crimes being erased by his deathbed repentance. he would simply rot in azkaban and/or die with an intact soul.

but what about with an intact appearance?

canon doesn't ever discuss what would happen to voldemort's body if he healed his soul, and either option - that his appearance would revert or that it wouldn't - is justifiable. but my view is certainly that healing his soul would trigger the transformation of his appearance.

[i don't have a preference on whether this means he would revert to the body he had when he first split his soul - that is, his appearance would be as it was when he was sixteen - or if he'd be his canonical age, just with a human face. either makes one hell of a premise for a fic.]

voldemort's physical degradation is directly caused by making horcruxes - right down to the very first time he splits his soul - and it accelerates as he goes beyond the norms of even this darkest of magic. the version of him which visits hepzibah smith - who has made two horcruxes: the diary and the ring - is very thin, very pale, and heavily implied to look quite sickly, and he also has a red gleam in his eyes. the version who comes to see dumbledore for a job interview - who has made four or five horcruxes: the diary, the ring, the cup, the diadem, and possibly the locket - is unnaturally pale, has skin which looks like melted wax, has eyes which are starting to look permanently bloodshot, and [much to harry's disappointment] is no longer good-looking. creating harry - rather than his resurrection ritual - is what seems to cause his looks to degrade further, since the voldemort of philosopher's stone is described facially in identical ways to the voldemort of goblet of fire, although the creation of nagini probably makes these features even more horrifying.

as a narrative device, voldemort's physical changes has an enormous amount in common with the gradual disfigurement of the portrait in the picture of dorian gray.

in both texts, damage visited upon the soul - and, indeed, damage visited upon the soul in pursuit of immortality - is visited upon the face [although in dorian's case, this damage is confined to the portrait, while his flesh-and-blood self lives behind a mask of false youth and beauty]. at the end of the novel, dorian - horrified at the portrait's appearance - resolves to mend his ways, but only does so half-heartedly [by deciding that not seducing a woman he feels nothing for is enough to cancel out murder and driving two people to suicide], which causes no change to the portrait. in a fit of rage, he destroys the portrait rather than attempting true repentance. this kills him, and when his body is discovered his appearance is the monstrous one of the painting. that is, he - like voldemort - finally has to wear the damage to his soul on his face.

from which we can reasonably suppose that the impact of true repentance on the soul would reflect similarly on the face. voldemort being returned to his former humanity - then - would be the proof [since, as we've seen, he wouldn't need to prove his remorse through works or words] that his repentance was genuine and he had - again, only in the theological sense of the word - been forgiven.

but he's still going to be thrown in azkaban, or hurled through the veil, or die on the spot even if he's pretty again. it doesn't change anything about what he's done on earth.

what it changes is his experience in the afterlife.

the text approaches the possibility of voldemort's remorse very interestingly. by which i mean, it presents it not just as a purgative act, but as a quasi-baptismal one.

the wizarding world canonically has two stable spheres of existence - life and afterlife. there's no suggestion in canon that this afterlife attaches a moral price to admission - that is, it doesn't seem to function as [the christian] heaven, and nor does there seem to be an in-universe version of [the christian] hell - but it does require something: an intact soul.

in between these two spheres is a liminal space - the theshold between life and death which appears to harry as king's cross. this threshold exists so that the newly dead [those who aren't harry, whose experience is unique, at least] can make a choice - to move on to the afterlife or to return to the sphere of the living as a ghost.

there's some implication in canon that it takes some people longer to accept the need to move on to the afterlife than others - and so there's some sense of the threshold serving a similar purpose to purgatory, and serving as an intermediate space in which an intact soul sheds all the baggage it's carried with it from life before it settles happily into death.

but in voldemort's case, it represents something very different... limbo.

and, specifically, the limbo of infants.

this term refers to the permanent - rather than liminal - sphere in which the souls of unbaptised babies linger, unable - since they've never been cleansed of original sin via baptism, but also haven't committed any sins of their own [since, y'know, they're babies] - either to access heaven or to be condemned to hell.

within the metaphysics of canon, then, voldemort's mutilation of his soul has a similar impact to the state of unbaptism. it prevents him from moving across the threshold between life and death, thus causing him to get stuck forever - in a baby-like form! - in the liminal space of king's cross.

and this is fascinating.

as deathly hallows reaches its climax, the themes and tropes the doylist narrative draws upon are overtly christian. harry freely chooses to die for the salvation of the world, rises again from the dead, and then protects anyone who believes in him from coming to harm at voldemort's hands with the supernatural force of his love. numerous other characters have arcs in the final book which have similarly christian overtones - lily as the virgin mary [who crushes the serpent's head, before her son defeats him entirely], dumbledore as john the baptist [who teaches and guides harry-as-christ, but is subordinate to him in greatness], and ron as st peter [who abandons harry-as-christ and then returns to him].

but - crucially - its christian tropes are not simply christian. they are protestant.

and voldemort - as much as his christian-literature archetype is satan [hence all the snake imagery] - is approached by the text, especially when it comes to the text's treatment of his horcruxes, with christian allegories which are catholic.

the horcruxes are relics, and his belief that they - rather than faith in the power of love as the text understands it - will save him is delusional. jkr has heavily implied in several interviews that they are created via a cannibalistic ritual - which calls to mind the doctrine of transubstantiation in the catholic eucharist. there are seven of them, just as there are seven sacraments in the catholic church, since voldemort believes seven to be the most powerful magical number - something he's wrong about, since the seven-fold power of his horcruxes is nothing in the face of harry's faith in the trinity of the hallows. and his clinging to them condemns him to a post-death state which calls the limbo of infants - which, while not official catholic doctrine, is a hypothetical concept only catholic theology entertains; all mainstream protestant and orthodox denominations reject it entirely - to mind.

it's a really interesting example of what both the doylist and watsonian texts believe him to have transgressed through the creation of horcruxes.

because, of course, he's not condemned to limbo for the sin of murder, he's condemned to it because he puts his faith in something other than faith [or love] alone.

[126dvtn]

— who am i to you?

summary : do you even exist to diluc?

genre : angst; hurt no comfort; argument

note : not proofread drafts! this is a depiction of an unhealthy relationship. read with caution

"yknow, diluc, just sayin," you call out from the couch, perking the ears of your busy partner, "you can always take a break and chill out from all the work you're doing."

sounds of paperwork ruffle heavy with the weight of its value to diluc. he pauses, thinks, and continues. "i don't quite get what you mean." you groan and shift your stature to face him. "i mean, come and spend time with your dear partner, please?" with every word comes a breathier tone, and you hope it pulls him towards you.

it doesn't. "apologies, my honey, this is due tonight. it's crucial for the winery to keep running," his eyes take no chance leaving the mess of text and ink. "what about tonight, then?" your dejection spills all over your voice. silence. he takes a breath; "i'm heading out. justice will never be served for as long as those thieves do not face punishment."

"you've said that for the fourth time this week."

diluc sighs. "the lives of the citizens are important, love, you know that. their safety is important. justice is important." only now does he look at you; not because you need him, but because he needs you. he needs you to understand.

"more important than me, luc?"

thin are his lips as he presses them together- stopping himself from answering you. "there's- look, there are hundreds of citizens, and only one of you; i don't- don't you understand? we need to think of the people, i-" he stands and staggers towards you. "you know what i stand for, dear, you know what i need. don't you?"

now it's you who stands, toes curled into the floor as tension grips you. "what about what i need? it's always been about you, where do i come in your life? who am i to you, diluc? just another citizen? hell, you'd treat a random citizen way better than you'd treat your own fucking partner, won't you?"

he pinches the bridge of his nose. "[name], listen-"

"i've been listening to you for so long, and all you talk about is justice and citizens and thieves, like you're a knight of fucking favonius. don't you know how lonely it's been- day and night all alone because someone's life revolves all around work and so-called 'justice'? it hurts, diluc."

fire swells up within him, and he shouts; "you signed up for this! you signed up to be my partner, even though i told you how important this work is to me!" his voice is thick, molten lava burning his held-back tears.

"if you can't stand the way i live, then just leave." a crack in his voice substitutes his hesitation. all tension that held your bones rigid shoot straight for your heart. of course. of course he'd pick his work over you. of course he'd pick the people over you.

"fine," you whisper, except it comes out as a croak instead. he staggers, like he's shocked.

"only if it means you'll treat me better than you do now." he stammers, like he wants to stop you.

"[name], wait- i didn't mean that," you shift back when his hand reaches for your shoulder. "you never meant anything you said to me, diluc. i get it now." you shift back further without prompt.

every word you say; every step you take puts out and reignites the rage in his heart. in his throat. "i don't- you're just being irrational now." "and you're not?! you just fucking told me to leave because i asked you to take a break. get a grip, diluc."

you tug your ring off your finger. the ring he bought you- and so expensively etched his vow into. 'i will always protect you', it says. he said it better, you remember.

"this is for you, [name]." in your palm unromantically slipped a ring which you didn't see, because your eyes were on your partner whose sheepish face turned as red as his hair.

"it is.. to always remind you of me," he mumbles, eyes not meeting yours. "if you ever feel alone, i will always be there for you. wherever you are, i will always protect you. i.."-

the memory trails off with the tear that trails down your cheek.

"goodbye."

you drop the ring.

[isa-loves-you]

Scaring The Boys | The Group Chat|

I am so sorry for not updating, i just don't do well with everyday stress as it is and then having three major holidays back-to-back added more stress, so I decided to take a break. I am also very sorry if I had made any grammar mistakes, the first time I write again is the time where y glasses are broken and I'm recovering from pink eye so sorry about that.

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Isaac: Isaac is a tall man which is a blessing but also a curse. One day you went down into the kitchen to grab water, and you saw your boyfriend Isaac trying to find his two-day leftovers that everyone tells him not to eat.

Due to Isaacs stature and the way the kitchen is laid out you couldn't move around him to quickly grab the water; so, you waited until Isaac was done. Even though it took him a couple of minutes for him to find which container was his, Isaac slammed the refrigerator door, and was met by your eyes. Isaac only seeing a figure come from behind the door and not realizing who you actually were scared the living hell out of him.

He jumped almost three feet back and dropped his food so his hand could clutch his chest like an elderly woman grabbing her purls. You couldn't help but also scream when he yelled because you didn't expect this big of a reaction from him, but as soon as he realized who you were, and you both relaxed you let out a chuckle. Isaac didn't laugh because he was the one who was scared for his life and dropping his food in the process. You did buy him more food as a way of saying sorry even though you didn't scare him intentionally.

Nick: The boys were now into hour 8 of the last to leave the vc. Just like all the other videos Isaac had a wheel with numbers on it so everyone can receive a punishment/ task. It was Nick's turn and Isaac had a little trick up his sleeve for his friend.

A couple of weeks ago Nick was flaunting that he doesn't get scared easily, and Isaac kept that in mind for this very moment. As Isaac was explaining to Nick that he had to tell an embarrassing story as a punishment, what no one knew was that Isaac was texting you to sneak into Nick's room and to scare him. You were obviously on board for this and it was easier than you thought it would be since Nick leaves his door open and is too busy talking over everyone so he wouldn't hear you anyways.

You stood up quietly and quickly grabbed Nick's shoulders and shouted, causing Nick to turn quickly in his chair while yelling. The back of his chair hit your side when he tried to turn around and his chair went down, Nick is now on the floor while you and everyone is laughing. After you calmed down you helped Nick backup and into his chair while telling him that you're sorry, you also gave him some words of encouragement so he can win.

Yumi: You were in the living room scrolling on your phone because Yumi was streaming, and you don't want to be in the room while he works. You were getting hungry, and you knew that Blake could always eat so you decided on Taco Bell and ordered your own food. Blake always changes his order, so you went up to his room to see what he wanted.

You opened the door to him yelling at his monitor like normal, but you couldn't see what he was playing. You said his name multiple times and even shouted it, but he still couldn't hear you over himself, so walked up to him and tapped his shoulder so you could pay attention for a split second. Yumi playing a horror game was never good because he gets so immersed that he doesn't realize what's going on in the real world, which makes him have a big reaction when he all of a sudden feel someone tap at his shoulder. Yumi throws his head set forward and his hands back accidentally hitting your nose as a reaction from his jump scare.

You were now holding your nose trying not to cry “oh my god i am so sorry, I'm so sorry” Blake said over and over again while holding your head close to his chest feeling bad for what he just did. The pain in your nose goes away after a second and you finally straighten back up while Blake still has a hand on your back “what do you want from taco bell?”.

Tanner: Your boyfriend wasn't superstitious until he had some “hauntings' ' in the old group house, ever since then every bump in the night Tanner hears he thinks that there is a ghost. While tanner was streaming you got bored, so you decided to scare him for funsies.

You walked up to his door and opened it quietly, so he didn't hear you since he only had one side of his headphones on. You crawled on the floor slowly so chat didn't see you to warn him, you found a spot in between the dresser and bed where the blanket hangs down so no one can see you. Whenever tanner went quiet for a second you would whisper his name or giggle loud enough for him to hear you and to look scan his room for a person. As tanner went on a rant about ghosts and his “hauntings' ' you decided that it was time for your revel.

You sprung up from your hiding spot and wrapped your arms around Tanner and his chair. Tanner immediately started thrashing around trying to escape your arms. He broke out of your clutch and ran towards the hallway while you belly laughed on the floor, he looked back to see you laughing and realized that it was you the whole time. Tanner came back into the room and praised you for your prank on him and allowed you to sit on his stream for a while before he ended it.

Larry: Everyone who knows Larry knows that he has a horrible sleep schedule, you being his partner has to endure it head on. Larry would often stay up for a day and a half or two days only having small naps in the afternoon, he was trying to fix it, but it was hard. Larry usually has his five-minute naps whenever you guys sat down to watch something which was cute but got very annoying when you tried to watch something new with him.

One day while you two sat down to watch something he started dozing off, so you decided to scare him. Once you knew Larry would be fully asleep you brought your face very close to him making sure that they don't touch, you wanted a little while longer until he started to finally wake back up again. Larry opened his eyes a little before turning to where you were sitting, for two seconds Larry didn't realize that it was you who was very close to him, scaring him in the process. You chuckled to yourself a little but then saw how shocked Larry still was, you eased him back to reality by saying you're sorry and letting him lay his head into your lap.

He shortly went back to sleep with a smile on his face knowing that he got you to feel bad and to baby him even though he was okay with being scared.