#it’s not an excuse but an explanation for why I drop off sometimes

[sharingresourcesforpalestine]

‼️currently physically and mentally ailing and as such very disabled in my activity. I am also unemployed so I have not had much money to budget for donations, and I can only do two to three campaigns a month. I deeply apologize. I will always reblog fundraisers unless they are being investigated for scams. This will be pinned until the situation changes, health and funds-wise.‼️

[whorelaud]

bf!Rafe making it up to his stubborn girlfriend <3 a/n a lil smthin based on this post eheh!!

A weary sigh escaped your throat, as you boredly scrolled through tiktok, with your boyfriend mere inches away, too busy conversing with Topper on the phone to direct his attention to you. 

You knew how important business was for Rafe, but sometimes it got out of hand, with him forgetting himself on the phone, taking one call after another, completely abandoning you on his bed (like you’re one of his night stands; in your words). 

Your lips tugged into a smile when you stumbled upon a funny video, chuckling as you sent it to Rafe, though you could’ve easily moved across the bed and shoved it in his face. That wasn’t a choice right now, as you were mad at him, too upset to humor him with silly cats whom you referred to as ‘us’ when you sent it to him. 

The ping ringed through Rafe’s ear, earning a puzzled look out of the latter when he checked the notification, and noticed it was a video from you. He turned in your direction, eyebrows quirking with confusion, almost as if he was seeking an explanation for his silent question. 

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you shuffled around in bed, until you were no longer facing your boyfriend, giving him your back instead. You got back to scrolling through tiktok, hoping Rafe would get the hint and finally call it off for the night. 

And he did, coming up with a random excuse to get rid of Topper, not giving him a chance to question Rafe before the boy already hung up, immediately checking the video you sent. You suppressed the smile forming on your lips as the sound of his giggles erupted through your ears, spiraling a fit of excitement through your chest. 

“What is this?!” He asked, leaning against the bed frame, lips pursing into a pout when he didn't receive a response in return. “Hello? Baby?” Rafe paused for a moment, gaze fully fixed on you, in hopes of earning your attention. He scoffed, finally understanding what you were doing. “Are you ignoring me?” 

His attention shifted back to the screen when his phone pinged with another notification from you, your said message causing him to grin from ear to ear. 

‘shut up.’ and another, ‘dont speak 2 me.’ 

“Are you mad at me?” He cooed, tossing his phone to the side, before he eventually joined your side, nuzzling around to get comfortable now that your back pressed firmly over his chest. “C’mon, speak to me, why are you giving me the silent treatment?” 

You remained silent, choking back a giggle when his face found the crook of your neck, planting soft kisses to your skin as his breath fanned over the flesh, the sensation like feather to your skin. 

“Is this about Topper?” He questioned between kisses, voice slightly muffled. Rafe then wrapped an arm around your waist, pressing you closer to his chest, even more close than earlier, if that was even possible. “I’m sorry, you know I get busy sometimes, I don't mean to purposely ignore you.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Rafe perked up when you spoke, smiling as he took in the side of your face, your frown instantly replaced with a sheepish smile. “Might as well jus’ break up with me, since you’re so busy n’ all that stuff.” 

“All that stuff?” He repeated, fully straightening in his position. He poked your cheek with his finger, giggling when you smacked his hand, feigning oblivion to your amused expression despite how annoyed you seemed. “Didn’t you just compare us to cats? You do that with everyone you break up with?” 

“Hmm,” you hummed, giving in when Rafe tugged your chin, forcing your face in his direction. You pretended to think, grabbing his hand and kissing it, the gesture slightly catching Rafe off guard, well aware of how stubborn you are when you're upset. “Only with the handsome ones.” 

“You think I’m handsome?” He muttered, voice dropping barely above a whisper. He leaned down, brushing his thumb over your lip. He pecked your forehead, the press of his plush lips tickling your flesh. “I’m sorry, I love you.” 

“It’s okay,” you reassured, levelling yourself with Rafe as you straightened up, now face to face with him. “I jus’ missed you s’all, you know I require a lot of attention.” 

“And I’m willing to give it to you,” he mumbled, “Missed,” a kiss, “my pretty,” and another, “girl.” You giggled, throwing your head back in an attempt to playfully dodge his kisses, merely for Rafe to chase after your lips, now fully pinning you to the bed. “Let’s watch more cat videos,” he said, grabbing your phone from the night stand. “Stop sulking with me, yeah?” 

You rolled your eyes, maintaining a blank expression as Rafe set your phone in front of your face, waiting for face ID to work. “You’re so annoying.” 

“And you love me,” he replied, face twisting into a frown as his fingers hovered over the screen. “Where the fuck is tiktok?” 

[ozzgin]

hear me out okayy imagine house full of obsessed monster x clueless human reader

I hear you alright. 👀 Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, mildly NSFW, obsessive behavior, stalking

You had been selected for an exchange program organized by the monster realm: one human to live with monsters, and one monster to walk among humans. They called it a cultural exchange.

Of course, you only found out about it after being kidnapped from your apartment. You thought you'd been taken by some mad serial killer and begged for mercy, until they finally dropped you before a regular looking office desk.

"Why the hell is the human so pale? What did you do?"

The monster lackeys fidgeted and mumbled some barely audible excuse. A slime creature poured you some coffee, and you gawked in confusion. The horned beast at the other side of the table seemed to realize his mistake.

"...They didn't tell you anything, did they?"

You shook your head in denial. To their defense, they'd never dealt with a human before. They must've gotten too flustered in the process, forgetting to speak. Or something along that line. You waved your hand, accepting their explanation, then probed for more details.

The whole ordeal is really mostly meant to satisfy their own curiosity towards humans, but they obviously couldn't express it so crassly to you. It's an exchange, you see. You, too, get to learn about monster customs, from the comfort of a shared home.

Thus, for the indefinite future, you'll be living with several creatures as roommates. You have been provided with your own room, naturally, in order to ensure your privacy.

Then again, how much privacy can one possibly get when surrounded by horny, deliriously infatuated creatures? Your underwear occasionally goes missing. You swear you feel watched every time you shower. And even more bizarre, you sometimes wake up to find a sticky film covering your pillow.

It must be anxiety. It was such a sudden change, after all. That's what the monstrous mates tell you in a sweet, caring voice. You appreciate their involvement, completely oblivious to the perversions taking place behind your back. Even the organizer couldn't foresee the unhinged thirst these beasts have for you. He didn't intend to ship you off as a wet dream to a pack of monsters.

"Is this alright, you think?" you ask, doing a little spin in the living room in order to show the chosen outfit from different angles.

The monsters shift slightly in their seats. If they were to be entirely transparent, you'd look much better stuffed with their appendages, pressed between them, coated in their fluids.

"Looks great", one of them manages to mumble, somewhat feverish. He let his mind wander too much.

"By the way, what were you doing last night? I could hear you saying my name repeatedly from your room."

The creature visibly tenses up.

"I was...I was practicing. It's a little hard to pronounce your name, you know? Being human and all..."

"Why didn't you just say so? I can help you with it. We'll practice until you finish properly", you declare with an innocent smile.

God. Keeping their hands off is becoming harder by the day.

[More Monsters]

[tkpuke]

23 and jayvik pretty please :3

Jayce + Viktor - 23. “Yes…I mean, no!”

author’s note: okay so the plot for this was heavily inspired by @ticklish-ghost , @home-of-the-squirmle and I’s discussion on one of their posts so why not make it into a fic okay? okay cool

It was nearing midnight, the only light shining into the lab through the curtains was the moon and its luminescent stars scattered around the sky. Viktor perched an elbow on the table, leaning his cheek on his hand while reading a book that could hold answers to have them move forward with their project. They were close, but it seemed like they were met with a dead end. Scientists don’t take those lightly, so they hungrily search for other possibilities and correct their mistakes on what went wrong.

He doesn’t have a clue on his partner’s whereabouts, but he’s not going to waste time searching for him. Usually Viktor takes the extra mile and works on projects a little more than he’s suppose to. He tends to struggle with the definition of teamwork when he’s been mostly alone his entire childhood, so he has no issue working alone while Jayce heads off for other duties or sleeps at a healthy time compared to Viktor’s sleep schedule.

It was peaceful and quiet. Viktor treasures nights like these. Until something was dropped beside him, creating a loud thunk.

“Look what I made.” A voice suddenly spoke out from behind, it belonging to Jayce which made Vitkor nearly jump a foot from his chair. “Jesus Christ—Jaycewhendidyougethere-“ He looked beside him to see what was dropped, picking it up to examine. An iron knife in the perfect size to fit in your pocket, the ends in a twisted pattern to make it look a little stylish. His face doesn’t show it, but Viktor is slightly impressed. There is no interest in him for weapons, but when it’s created so clean and perfected by Jayce himself, he can’t help but be in awe.

He then puts the knife down, finally meeting Jayce’s eyes. “Another tool that will never be used for its purpose.” Clear to say Jayce has made a couple of tools, most having the same theme: sharp and dangerous. He never uses them, as Viktor stated, but Jayce always gives the ‘you never know’ excuse. In reality the man just gets bored out of his mind at times and gets these random surges of creativity to go down and make any toys his heart desires. Who wouldn’t if they had the skill to properly do so?

Viktor’s eyes started to register that Jayce is full on shirtless right in front of him, muscles exposed and pumped to its core from all the wielding. It never really dawned on him how strong of a guy Jayce is, feeling a bit fragile and small the more he compared his own build to him. How easy it could be for Jayce to effortlessly pin him. How he could take away Viktor’s right to squirm by simply sitting on his waist. How he could be picked up with one singular arm by Jayce with zero sweat.

Jayce caught on to his more than five second stare. Viktor noticed.

He took attention to the soot covered all over Jayce’s upper body, taking that as an explanation of his longing stare. “You’re dirty. Here, sit.” Viktor nudged his head over to a nearby chair, heading over to grab a cloth that will soon be damped with water and soap. “Oh, thank you. You really don’t have to.” Jayce chuckles all flustered in appreciation by Viktor’s care, taking the seat anyway. Viktor comes back, starting to dab the cloth on his shoulders while he works his way down. “Hmph, I’ve seen you sleep before in this state. Least I can do is help you get cleaned up.”

“Hey, I get too exhausted sometimes!” Jayce replies defensively, but gives a soft smile at the end. He grabs the knife he created earlier, fingers feeling around it. “You have to admit, this one looks a bit cooler than the others I have made.” Viktor nods in somewhat agreement, now focusing on the upper chest to clean off. “You can keep it, if you want to of course.”

Viktor shakes his head, not meeting Jayce’s eyes while conversing. “There’s no need for me to have it, but thank you for your…kind offer.”

“You’re keeping it.” Jayce responds back with, putting it on top of the open book Vitkor was previously reading so he won’t forget to take it with him. The other only sighs, being aware it’s a losing battle to argue with Jayce when he’s so set on gifting someone something they’ve never asked for. It’s one of the man’s many love languages: giving gifts.

His hand started moving down more, getting near his upper ribs. A quick shift of change in Jayce’s demeanor, beginning to have trouble sitting still like before and biting down his lip hard. Viktor catches on. Of course he did when he begin to rub the cloth against his body more gently, hoping it sent a ticklish shockwave. Revenge was right in front of him from all the times Viktor was ruthlessly, in his opinion, tickled silly by Jayce who never shot down an opening opportunity to do so. Little to Jayce’s knowledge, Viktor has been seeking out opportunities himself to get back. The whole idea of touch is just a subject he awkwardly moves around in, never having someone so playful and lovingly touchy like Jayce in his life.

With the way Jayce was squirming and huffing air out of his nose to suppress the giggles forming in his throat, it fueled newfound confidence in Viktor’s actions. He took it a step further, pretending a spot of soot around Jayce’s ribs was giving him difficulty to rub off, so he pressed his fingers deeper while curling them a little.

Not expecting the firmer touch along with feeling nails through the cloth gliding around his ribs freely, a surprised gasp slips out. Small giggles came right after, instinctively grabbing ahold of Viktor’s wrist. Viktor raises a brow, feigning confusion. “Sorry, does this tickle?”

“Yes…I mean, no!” Jayce got too distracted from the ticklish grazes that the question failed to register on time for him to think of an answer that may save his dignity. Viktor nudges Jayce’s firm grip off of his wrist, and he hesitantly does so. His partner looks up, doing incredibly well on not cracking a smile to foil his true intentions. “Yes? No? Which one is it?”

Jayce finds Viktor’s calmness to a newfound discovery nerve-racking, wishing he could read his mind right then and there. This is the first time Viktor has ever tried to tickle Jayce, but the poor man truly believes it was done on accident. He’s been so use to Viktor taking his ticklish onslaughts like a champ and never immediately attacking back, or even days later. Jayce had his own assumption that Viktor would never live up fully to his playfulness and do so much as tickle him back. The guy doesn’t even complete Jayce’s friendly hugs most of the time by wrapping his own arms around him, just kind of standing there until he pulls away.

So that’s why Jayce is sitting here, staring into Viktor’s questioning eyes, not knowing exactly on how to respond. He decides to lie, feeling like there’s no use in telling the truth if Viktor won’t indulge a little more.

“Um, just a little. Felt weird mostly.” He so badly does a terrible job of convincing. He releases a quiet held back sigh, not knowing if it was out of relief or disappointment when Viktor continued on cleaning after not questioning him a bit more. Viktor created a pattern, dragging the cloth and his fingers across Jayce’s skin that wasn’t ticklish at all. Then in the middle of doing so, he would press more firmly and curl his fingers again just enough for his nails to graze.

Jayce is terrible at holding in his giggles, making weird ‘kcchh!’ noises and sometimes letting a couple out for a few seconds but in a whisper tone as if Viktor isn’t right in front of him to hear them all. “You’re giggling a lot for someone who claims to just be a little ticklish.” Viktor nonchalantly states, placing a hand on top of Jayce’s shoulder to keep him steady. Jayce was about to do another failed attempt of denying until that pattern Viktor was doing met down around his stomach.

Jayce snorts, instantly slapping a hand to cover his mouth in shock as Viktor pauses his movements. His mouth twitches upward for a split second, almost smiling from Jayce’s flushed cheeks. “Oh, so it does tickle.”

“Viktor, wait—“

“You lied to me?”

“Nononono, it’s just that—“

“No need to explain yourself, Jayce. I’ll be careful.” You’d have to be dumb to not practically hear the smile in Viktor’s tone. Both of them, and if anyone else were to be in that room, would very much know that Victor won’t be ‘careful’. Viktor kept up that god forsaken pattern again, but this time letting it tickle Jayce more frequently than it cleaning.

He observed Jayce’s reactions, testing out different areas around his stomach and what brought out a louder reaction than the other. Fingers curling to the middle of his stomach earned him a full boisterous laugh. Nearing his belly button made him receive laughs that shot an octave higher with an occasional whistle coming from the gap of his two front teeth. Cleaning over his belly button made Jayce snort again, a noise Viktor was seeking out for.

Jayce’s rambunctious laugh got Viktor stuck in a trance. How it’s so loud it can be heard from all over Piltover. Jayce’s high pitch snorts coming out only when Viktor tickles somewhere particularly more sensitive. His eyes being closed shut, a random push to Viktor’s face as if it’ll tone down the ticklish sensations. Viktor now understands Jayce completely. He doesn’t want to stop the fun and hearing the flow of his laugh, everything so mesmerizing and ridiculously childish. Viktor could do this all day. 

Two hands grab Viktor’s wrists while a leg kicked out when he dragged the cloth over his belly button again, shaking his head. “Hohold on plehehease!”

Viktor scoffed. “Stop being a baby. I’m not doing anything.” But it was clear as day everything was now being done with purpose. Hands still holding onto Viktor’s wrists, Jayce takes the granted time to catch his breath. “Hehehe…ohohokay, I am one hundred percent sure I’m clean now.”

Viktor tsked, watching him take in air like he ran a marathon. “I think you might be more ticklish than me, Jayce. Isn’t that something?” Jayce abruptly stares at him, peeved. “Ohoho, is that what you think? Let’s put it to the test then.”

Viktor is now the one grabbing at Jayce’s wrists, pushing with all his might out of reach. “No, Jayce! Stop!” Jayce manages to skitter across Viktor’s side, earning him a squeak that he’s terribly embarrassed of. Jayce relishes it.

“What are you, a mouse?” He teases, letting Viktor push his hands away so he can feel like he’s having the upper hand ever so often just to play fair. Viktor stops his attempts of fighting back, shooting a glare but meanwhile grinning. “At least I don’t snort like a pig.”

Viktor just sealed his own coffin shut. “Oh, is that how you want to play?” Jayce gets up from his spot, startling Viktor. He picks him up with ease, showing no effect of Viktor’s shoves and shouts to be put down at once. Jayce lays him down on the couch softly, a location Viktor is all too familiar with by how frequent Jayce pins him down and tickles him mercilessly whenever Viktor, in Jayce’s words, deserves it.

Jayce does not attack right away, taking the time out of pure entertainment to watch him struggle a bit as if by some miracle today is the day Viktor manages to escape Jayce’s evil clutches.

He’s already giggling. “Jahayce, I am telling you now. Do not.” He manages to sit up a bit, hoping to level with Jayce more and seem convincingly threatening when his cold glare meets his eyes.

Jayce’s hands started slowly moving downwards.

“I now know where you’re most ticklish. I promise you, I will not be gentle when my next chance comes if you dare to do this.”

A leap of excitement was felt in Jayce’s heart at those words, causing him to smile and shrug before drilling into Viktor’s hips.

“I can live with that.”

[agent-cupcake]

Amen

Pairing: Suguru Geto x f! Reader

Synopsis: No matter the severity of your actions, Suguru would never actually hurt a member of his sorcerer family. Luckily, there are other ways he can think of to punish you. It's for your own good.

Warnings: Explicit smut, dubcon, possessive behavior, manipulation

Tags: Punishment, edging, orgasm denial, overstimulation, dirty talk, vibrators, bondage, orgasm torture, cunnilingus, humiliation

Word Count: 10.4k

Notes: This story is for @laurenzel. I think this can be almost seen as a companion to my previous Gojo story since there's similar toxic motives and means used by the men, but a difference in method.

“Would you care to join me tonight?” was what Geto said to you, smiling so sweetly, so gently. He said it like an offer, or a question, but you both knew the answer. It was the same as it had been since the very first time he asked, since the first time he kissed you, since the first night you spent together.

And you, finally given direction in the big, confusing world, couldn’t even conceive of saying no to Geto. You didn’t have to do, say, or think anything on your own—just follow him. And you did. Happily, you did, thinking nothing of the offer other than how pleased you were that he asked. 

Chills prickled over your bare arms and legs when you walked into his room. The air felt a few degrees too cool, especially when you were accustomed to the August heat. Everything about his room seemed cold. It was furnished in stark contrast to the simple, traditional temple façade the rest of the complex maintained outwardly. Black painted walls, a hard floor, and ebony furniture upholstered with dark leathers and suedes. There was a flat, modern utilitarianism to the room despite its luxury, all at once inviting and off putting. The silky black sheets and dusky saturation of velvety vanilla and citrus lent a sex appeal to the room that you inextricably associated with Geto.

“Will you help me with this?” he asked, gesturing to his clothes. 

“Yes, of course,” you said, rushing to his side to help him undress. Even though the vestments Geto wore were for show, the articles were genuine and required careful handling. A perfect costume needed to be authentic. You unfastened the kasaya first, hanging it up. 

“I think,” he said while your hands were busy, “we need to talk about what you did.” 

You paused, turning to him with your brow furrowed, your stomach dropping in response to the accusatory tone of his voice. “What did I do?” 

“You killed Kurokawa.” 

Your frown deepened, your chest tightening with a harsh burst of guilt. “How do you know that?” 

Geto raised an eyebrow. That was the wrong thing to ask, it made you look more guilty than you were. Besides, the answer was obvious. He knew everything. You shook your head fast, trying to come up with an explanation that didn’t sound like an excuse. 

 “I… I thought you would be happy I took care of him,” you said. “He was causing trouble. He was a bad man.” 

“If you thought I would be pleased, why didn’t you tell me right away?” 

There were reasons, weren’t there? Good ones, explanations that could help you smooth this over. Beneath the weight of his gaze, you couldn’t think of any of them. “I… I don’t, um…  I was going to, but I didn’t want to distract you or anything. I’m not… I didn’t mean-”

“No. You didn’t tell me because you knew you were wrong,” Geto stated, telling you so directly that you couldn’t help but believe it.  

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. 

“To be clear, I’m not concerned with his death,” Geto told you. “I’m worried about you. About what you might do without my intervention. I have been for a while.”  

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” you said. That was probably the most true thing you could say, the sentiment that defined your existence. You did not understand. 

“I like to think that you’ve grown since you joined the family, but sometimes I don’t know if I can trust you to act with a clear head. Kurokawa was a doctor, wasn’t he?” 

You bristled at the reminder, mentally pushing back on the idea that you did it for such a personal reason. “He was… he was dangerous,” you argued. “He wanted to get the police involved.” 

“That isn’t my point,” Geto explained. “You acted out on your own. I knew Kurokawa was causing problems, but I didn't ask you to kill him. He still had value to me, in his own way." He paused, considering you with pursed lips. "If you told me what you did immediately, maybe I wouldn’t jump to conclusions, but as it is, all this proves is that you haven’t moved beyond your past experiences. I can’t trust you."

You bit your lip, swaying back as if those words had been a physical blow, only becoming more confused. Completely and utterly confused about how killing somebody who was a bad man, killing a hateful monkey upset Geto. You did it for him. You did it because the man was evil, and because he said terrible things, and because he was a hideous embodiment of the type of person who would see you locked up tight in another drug dispensing, mind-numbing, monkey hospital. 

All you could understand was that you had disappointed Geto, and the cutting violence of his doubt cut deep into your chest as physically as a knife. 

“I’m sorry,” you said again.

“Are you going to finish this?” Geto asked rather than acknowledge your apology, pulling at his collar. You nodded, rushing back to his side to untie the obi sash and fold it, helping him shrug off his black yukata to hang that up as well.

Left in a tight undershirt, a pair of loose pants, and socks he was quick to peel off and toss aside, Geto-sama emerged from his costume looking a decade younger and twice as dangerous. Like this, he was Suguru. You weren’t equals, but you were more than a little familiar. Although, you weren’t sure if you would dare to be so friendly with him now that you understood you were in trouble.

Before, you assumed you were here because he desired you. Now that felt presumptuous and silly.   

You averted your eyes and stepped back, waiting for the other shoe to drop. The silence physically hurt. Apologies built up like a dam in your head, stopping any other sort of thought from getting through as guilt brewed and boiled in your stomach. Worse, you couldn’t say he was wrong. Maybe you had knowingly acted against Geto, against the family, because of what Kurokawa represented to you. Maybe you couldn’t be trusted. And, if that was true, maybe you deserved his anger and all of the terrible things that followed anger.  ��  

“Are you nervous?” Suguru asked. 

“No,” you said quickly. 

“Liar. I can hear it. Your heart is racing. You’re scared. Is it me?” He nudged your chin up with the side of his hand, forcing you to meet his eyes and the little smile he wore. “Are you frightened of me?” 

“You’re angry,” you said, shrinking back. “Angry with me.”

“Oh,” Suguru hummed thoughtfully, “so you’re scared that I’m going to punish you. Is that it?” 

Hesitantly, you nodded. 

“You’re right, I am.” 

Your breath caught before you shook your head fast, panicking. “No, you… I’m really sorry. I mean it, I was just trying to… He deserved to die.”

“I understand,” Suguru said, “and I appreciate what you say you were trying to do. The problem is that I don’t believe that was your motive. That is why I’m upset.” He ran his fingers through his hair, putting into a messy bun. “Do you understand the distinction?”

You blinked fast, feeling the horrible bite of tears stinging the corners of your eyes. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now… what do you think would be a fitting punishment?” 

You looked up at him in stark shock, hoping desperately that you misunderstood him. He didn’t clarify anything, simply waiting for you to answer. You shook your head again, your mouth opening and closing before you managed a meek, “I don’t know.” 

“But you agree, don’t you?” he asked, going over to his chest of drawers. Suguru looked at you over his shoulder, eying you up and down, drinking your awkward nerves. “You deserve to be punished for your disobedience.”

You exhaled sharply, conflicted about what kind of answer to give. More importantly, what kind of answer he wanted. If you were smarter, you would be able to talk your way out of this situation. If you were better attuned to Suguru’s needs, you would be able to give him what he wanted. If you were loyal, he wouldn’t have been mad in the first place. Those thoughts weren’t helpful, all you could do was stare and try to solve the puzzle of his mood. You had seen that little smirk on his face when he teased Nanako, but also when he killed non-jujutsu sorcerers that had outlived their usefulness. 

“You’re really asking me?” you finally got out, the only response you could muster.

His back was turned to you now as he looked through the drawer, but you saw his shoulder raise in a casual shrug. “I’m curious.” 

 Your gut instinct was to deny that you deserved punishment to try and spare yourself, but you held that impulse. You had already agreed that you did something wrong, so denying that you deserved punishment could make things worse. Then again, if you agreed, then maybe he would take that as permission to do even worse. Either one could potentially upset him too, because it would prove that you didn’t know what he wanted. Suguru did nothing to alleviate your nervous indecision as he turned around, holding an unmarked red box, watching you with that enigmatic smirk.

“If you think I do,” you said carefully, “then-”

“No,” he said, cutting you off. “I am asking if you acknowledge that you deserve punishment for what you have done.”

“I won’t do it again,” you told him, your voice soft. “I promise.” 

Suguru frowned. “That’s not what I asked.”

“I know, but it’s true,” you insisted. Rather than relent to your distress, his eyes narrowed dangerously, finally giving you some indication about the response he actually wanted. “I do!” You said quickly. “I…” The words were thick like syrup, awkward to get out. “I deserve to be punished.” 

Suguru smiled, setting the box on the bed and sitting on the black leather footboard bench, his legs spread wide and comfortable and head slightly tilted.  

“Are you going to hurt me?” you asked softly.

“Hurt you?” Suguru asked, raising a thin eyebrow. “I would never hurt you. I don’t think you’re likely to learn from pain anyway, hm? It wasn’t effective for your parents or doctors.”

“But… but you said you were going to punish me?” you asked, looking between him and the box with an increasing amount of anxiety. 

“Take off your clothes.”

Your jaw dropped. “I… My… You mean it?” 

He raised both eyebrows, daring you to deny him. You clutched at the front of your dress, your shoulders curling in. 

“But why?” you asked. He immediately gave you a pointed look, like you were stupid. “This… it’s… You want to…?” You couldn’t even finish the question, the whole thing was so divorced from any coherence you could wrap your head around. 

“You're allowed to say no and leave, I won’t stop you,” Suguru told you. He considered that for a moment, his head falling to the side. “If you stay, we’ll switch to your safe word rather than no. You remember it, don’t you?”

Safe word? You remembered him establishing that the first night he allowed you into his bed, but you hadn’t really thought much of it. Why would you ever want him to stop? Now the thought of it made you feel a little cold, and not because of the air conditioner valiantly chugging away in an attempt to keep the August heat at bay. It had taken a few days to come to terms with sleeping with Suguru after it first happened, but this was unreal in an entirely different way. You felt like you were looking down a very long, dark tunnel, like you were hopelessly and utterly lost.   

“I do,” you said faintly. “I remember.” 

“It’s your choice then.” 

You winced, unable to look at him. You weren’t going to leave. That was unthinkable. The idea of undressing in front of him like it was some sort of show wasn’t especially comfortable either, but you understood that you would do it. “That’s… it’s embarrassing.”

“I’ve noticed,” Suguru said. “You don’t want to think of yourself as the type of woman who would strip for a man. But you are, and you will. For me.”

You flushed darker, avoiding his eyes. Trying to keep your breathing from going completely out of control, you nodded. It was easier to obey. You wouldn’t know what you would do if you left his room right now, where you would go, how you would feel. It wasn’t about you, it was about what you had done to disappoint Suguru, and how you would make it right. He wanted to know that you were loyal, that you had left behind the pathetic wretch you used to be. 

Humiliating as it was, he was helping you. That was all he had ever done. 

“Yes, sir.” 

With shaking hands, you unzipped your dress. Considering the summer heat, you were wearing as little as possible. Three articles of clothing separating you from his eyes. You weren’t sure if that was better, making it so the process of undressing wasn’t so drawn out, or worse because it meant you couldn’t stall. 

“Keep going,” Suguru said when you hesitated with your thumbs hooked beneath the waistband of your panties. Closing your eyes, you pushed them down. The only positive you could think of was that you had the foresight to shave the night before. Ever since the first night you slept together you’d been taking personal grooming extremely seriously. Removing your bra was the worst of it all, but you dutifully undid the clasps and pushed the straps down your arms. He had seen you naked before, you reasoned. Even if you were disappointing, he still had asked to see you. It was fine. 

If Suguru wanted it, it was fine.

“You’re too pretty to be so self-conscious,” he told you in a very calm, matter-of-fact way. 

You tried not to shuffle awkwardly, clasping your hands in front of your stomach to hide their shaking. “Thank you,” you said softly, unable to meet his eyes even if you could feel them heavily on your flushing skin. 

“Come here,” Suguru ordered. In your peripheral, you saw his hand raise, a single finger curling to draw you towards him. 

You obeyed on awkward feet, glad to close the distance. He sat up to meet you face to face, having to look up at you for once and pulling you closer. You automatically parted your lips to kiss him. That was something you knew how to do. But his parted lips only brushed the corner of your mouth. When you tried to tilt your head to catch him, Suguru pulled back. Your eyes fluttered open—when had you closed them?—to see him smirking at the little trick. 

“Get on the bed,” he ordered, releasing you.

Nerves knotted and tangled in your stomach. There was something hot about his detached control, but you weren’t sure you liked it either. Vulnerability was discomfort. And still, you knew better than to argue or question. Trying to preserve as much of your modesty as was possible, you got onto his bed. It was easier to comply. Better to be obedient like he wanted. You didn’t want to disappoint him again. 

“These are for you,” Suguru said, finally revealing the contents of the red box by lifting the glossy lid. 

You stared into the box with curiosity, and then with a sharp pang of recognition. After that, nerves. Dread. Excitement. Blinking over and over didn’t change what you saw, there was no mistake about what lay inside. A lot of leather. Some chains. Scarf-like ties. You were pretty sure the wand-shaped item was a vibrator. 

Suguru choked you last time you had sex, and he pinned your wrists down and pulled your hair and left marks on your thighs and chest, but this was different. Dangerous. This was scary. 

“Geto-sama…” you said nervously, sticking to the formal address in the hopes that he would understand the sincerity of your doubt. “I’m not…”

“As I said, you’re allowed to stop this at any time,” he said, dropping the lid back onto the box with a crisp snap. “I would never force you into anything. If you truly feel bad for what you have done and want to prove yourself to me, I shouldn’t need to coerce you.”

Guilt and nerves writhed in your stomach. And excitement, always excitement for the simple reason that it was Suguru. You would do anything for him, wouldn’t you? He had saved you. You disappointed him, it was only right that you did as you were told. You pushed the lid off again, forcing a sort of resolve. Your heart beat like a frantic war drum in your chest, and you were flushing so hotly it felt like a fever. 

“What’s this all for?” you asked, your voice hoarse. 

“You won’t be able to hold still on your own,” he replied simply. “Besides, I think you’ll look sexy like this. I was waiting for an opportunity to try it.” 

The bottom of your stomach gave way to anxious lust. You licked your lips, trying to calm yourself down. 

“Okay,” you said softly. 

“Put them on for me,” Suguru said, pulling out four of the leather cuffs. Your eyes widened, your lips parting to argue that as a step too far. It would be so much easier for you if he did it himself, if you didn’t have to actively engage with putting yourself in a literal bind. 

Although maybe that was the point. This was punishment. 

Prove your loyalty. You could do that for him. 

Despite your forced mental affirmation, the whole task seemed too daunting for a moment, you had a nervously suffocating sense like drowning, but you forced that down. You would do anything for Suguru. That’s what this was about. Proving to him that you were loyal, that you would do as he said. That you were devoted.  

You did the wrist cuffs first, slipping the first over your left hand and tightening the strap with your right. There was only one size; they would fit snugly. Thick chains hung from both cuffs. Although they weren’t as bad as pure metal bracelets, the leather wouldn’t be kind to your skin if you resisted too much. Tightening the strap on the right cuff was even worse since you were working with your non-dominant hand. 

“Do you need help?” Suguru asked, laughing at your frustrated attempts to get the tongue through the buckle. 

“Don’t laugh, please,” you begged, talking very softly to hide your increasingly unstable emotions. “I’m trying.” 

“Here,” he said indulgently, “let me.” Suguru held out his hands for you to let him finish securing the cuff. “Do you need help with your ankles?”

“No, I… Thank you,” you said, unable to look at his expression. You could do this. You had to do this. 

Still, your hands trembled unsteadily. When you nervously fumbled with the leather strap around your ankle, he laughed again. 

“Don’t look,” you mumbled. The chains hanging from your wrists playfully clinked against the chains on your ankles.  

“I have to make sure you do it properly. You could hurt yourself.”

“It’s embarrassing,” you whispered, more petulant than anything.  

“I know,” Suguru told you sweetly, “but you’ve been such a good girl so far.” 

Your breath caught at the praise. At the very least, he looked away to pull off his shirt. You used the distraction to get your ankles secured, watching him remove his pants with your hands between your legs to retain some modesty. Suguru, stripped to his boxers, surveyed your handiwork, a little smile growing on his face.

“What?” you asked nervously. 

“Given how shy you are, I thought it would take more than this to convince you to do this for me. I don’t know if I’m disappointed or impressed.”

You frowned with a twisting sense of betrayal, but he cut off your displeasure by grabbing your legs to yank you towards him, leaning over the bed so he could kiss you.  

Before Suguru, you hadn’t really understood what the point of kissing was. It was an act of affection you mirrored with others because it was what people did. When Suguru licked your lips open for himself, you understood. Any touch of his body against yours had a potent effect, but the openly intimate domination of his tongue against yours, his fingers slipping up your hair to tilt your head, the hand on your bare waist, it was enough to clear your mind all over again. Igniting the purest type of motivation—lust. 

You wanted to show him your devotion. You wanted him to know you were sorry. You clung to his shoulders, hoping he could feel it.

All too soon, Suguru pulled back, his lips hovering inches from your own. You tried to follow, but he held you in place by your hair. 

“I’m impressed,” he said, answering his comment from before. “I admire your dedication. I only wish it extended to your actions. I can’t trust you until I know you obey me.”

“I do,” you said. “I…I will.” 

“Not yet.” Suguru didn’t wait for your response, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips, your cheek, and then tilting your head to whisper in your ear. “Move back. I’ll take care of the rest,” he told you, his husky voice making you shudder.

“Yes, sir,” you muttered so softly you wondered if he heard you. When Suguru pulled away, you scooted back to sit in the center of his bed, waiting and watching with equal parts nerves and anticipation. He picked through the red box again, pulling out another set of leather cuffs and a bundle of those silky scarves. 

“Open your legs,” he ordered in a business-like voice as he joined you on the bed, crawling up to you and readying one of the leather straps. The sudden shift of tone surprised you, throwing you off all over again. 

“What’s that?” you asked nervously. He gave you a sharp look and you relented, opening your legs. Being exposed so brazenly made your skin crawl, but he paid no attention to your naked body, wrapping the strap around your thigh and fastening it, repeating the process on your other leg. 

“What is it that the monkey said to upset you?” Suguru asked casually as he tested the straps for give, deeming them satisfactory. The conversational tone burst your bubble of rose tinged intimacy, sending your thoughts back to unpleasant places. “I assume something set you off.” 

“I… um…” As if revealing a magic trick, he unwound a length of the red scarf-like fabric, distracting you from a question you hadn’t really understood in the first place.

“Or did he try to attack you?” Suguru pushed, neatly doubling the scarf and pulling it around your back. He had to sit close as he blindly tied the knot and the cashmeran twilight scent of his skin filled your senses, you held your breath when he pulled away just to keep it close for a moment longer. 

“Have you done this before?” you asked as he wound the scarf around your chest and shoulders with a practiced hand, searching for a distraction from the embarrassment. 

“Does it bother you if I have?” Suguru asked. 

“No, sir.” 

He had to lean forward again to fasten the final knot on your back. “You didn’t answer my question,” he said softly. “What happened?” 

You winced. “He called me delusional. He said I’m just a… a bitch in your harem, and that I’d go down with you.” 

“I see,” Suguru said, pulling back, his expression impassive. 

“I’m really sorry, Geto-sama,” you said. 

“Are you worried he’s right?” Suguru asked, his voice so saccharinely sweet it had to be mocking. 

“I don’t… I don’t know.” 

“You are special to me,” Suguru told you sweetly, petting your hair. 

“You’re special to me too,” you said, eager to try and express your adoration. “Very, very special.” 

“I’m doing this because you’re so special to me. I can help you grow, and help you move on. I can show you the benefits of an honest life without the petty influence of the weak, but I cannot force your obedience. I need you to choose to listen to me, to obey me.”

“That is my choice,” you said. 

“Haven’t you heard the phrase ‘actions speak louder than words’?” Suguru countered, revealing the final trick of his little magic show. The chains on your wrists connected to those on your ankles with a few inches of slack, your ankle cuffs connected to the straps on your thighs, and the loose ends of scarves from the harness he had just finished tying were threaded into the D-rings on your thigh straps. Unable to balance upright, you rolled onto your back, fully exposed and unable to do much of anything about it. “This is your chance to make amends.” 

Suguru put his hand on your bare chest, right above your racing heart as it beat against your ribs. “You’re scared again,” he said. “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you. Do you not believe that?” 

“I’m just…” you squirmed uncomfortably, unable to articulate what you felt. You didn’t know what you felt, couldn’t figure out anything beyond the intensely physical embarrassment and the panicked disquiet of being bound and exposed.  

“You know what to do to make this stop,” he pointed out, his hand dragging down your chest to your flinching stomach. “Just say the word, and I’ll let you leave.”

Suguru told you that almost like it was a joke. He was daring you to use the safe word and stop him, to show him that you weren’t as devoted as you claimed. His hand reached your pelvis and you whimpered, your hips wiggling in an undecided way. Did you want him to touch you, or were you nervous for that part? You couldn’t tell. The feelings were the same. 

He finally dropped over you, both of his hands resting on your ass before brushing up your thighs, pressing them further apart as he kissed you with an open mouth. Suguru’s tongue urgently met yours, teasing enough to invite your active and enthusiastic participation. To show him how much you wanted him. Of course you did. 

With a surprising bite on your lower lip, Suguru left your mouth to move down, licking and kissing his way across your jaw, following the line of your neck. He stopped there, sucking hard right above your pulse until you shuddered hard, making a soft, helpless noise. Your hands anxiously jerked, but all that did was snap the chains taut. Taking his time, his hand trailed down your thigh, his fingernails scraping the skin, until he reached your pussy. 

When Suguru’s fingers made contact with the sensitive flesh, you yelped, and he bit your neck hard enough to draw that yelp out into a pathetic keen. Your attempt to free your hands so you could push him back served only to pull your legs open wider. 

“Was that too much?” Suguru asked, lightly tracing your slit. 

“Hurts,” you said, your breathing hard and fast. He chuckled warmly, finding your clit and tracing little circles over it, just teasing. You whimpered. 

“You don’t mind, do you?” He asked, his lips brushing your skin as he moved down your chest. 

You made a choked, conflicted sound in your throat, any coherent response leaving your head the second his mouth closed around your nipple. Electric pulses of pleasure zipped down to your core, made that much more intense by the fingers on your clit. Suguru added more pressure against it, the weight sweetened by the friction of his calloused fingertips. Your hips rolled into the touch, your back arching for every delicious movement of his tongue or teeth on your nipple. 

A hoarse wail left your mouth when he released you with a wet pop, moving to do the same to your other nipple. His fingers were truly grinding against your clit at this point. It wasn’t the sweet enticement of pleasure, but a brute force motion that guaranteed you would come fast. 

You whined and moaned and shuddered, fighting the restraints. Sweat slicked up your skin, chafing beneath the restraints as you jerked, your body going taut to prepare for the sudden orgasm. You managed a choked, “I can’t, I can’t, I-” And then that tension snapped. It was good, but the rush was too fast and fleeting, fizzling itself out before you could savor the feeling. All it really did was make you want more.

With another lewdly wet pop, Suguru pulled off your nipple and sat up, his hand retreating from between your legs. “How did that feel?” he asked.

You swallowed, nodding fast. “‘s good. Tha-aa-nk you, sir.” 

“It’s interesting to me how much more sensitive girls are after coming,” Suguru said, teasing you with his fingers lightly tracing over your slit. “It’s almost obscene. Men need time, but you already want more, don’t you?” 

You shuddered, panting and flushed. “Yes. Yes, please.”

He smirked, although you couldn’t say you really understood the joke. Your entire body twitched, the chains clinking, and he licked his lips, looking at your flushed body like he was eying up a meal. 

Your eyes squeezed shut when he ran two fingers from your entrance, dragging a smear of slick arousal up to your clit. 

“No, don’t close your eyes,” Suguru said, beginning to draw patterns over your swelling clit. “Look at me.” 

You nodded, opening your eyes and meeting his gaze despite how overwhelming it was to be watched while he touched you so intimately. You squirmed, inhaling sharply through your teeth, already feeling the tantalizing build. 

“What about you?” you asked. “You don’t have to, um… um…” Blinking fast, breathing hard, your words scattered like dust and you felt the same tightening in your core, the sparkling promise of release. At the exact moment you were about to come again, Suguru pressed his hand flat between your legs, denying you that final push over the edge. 

Whining and desperate and so, so close, your hips bucked upward, desperate to come again. It was already too late, out of your grasp. “Geto-sama, please, I was-”

“No,” he said simply. 

“What?” 

“No. I’m not going to let you come again. I’ve already given you one more than you deserve.”

“No,” you whispered, horrified. “You… You can’t.” 

“No?” he repeated, his fingers tracing your clit slowly, with the barest amount of pressure. “You remember why I’m doing this, don’t you? I’m punishing you.” He pressed more intently against your clit. Unable to comprehend denial, your body began the process of drawing up tight. “You need to learn to be obedient. You have to learn to take whatever I see fit to give you.” 

“I am,” you gasped out. “I do, I-I will, I’m…” Your back arched, your arms and legs falling aside as if to make an offering of your body in the hopes that he would let you come this time. “I’m sorry that I… that I did that,” you babbled, your pussy tightening around nothing as your body got ready to come. “I’m really… really… I’m-” 

Suguru stopped just when you were on the precipice again, tapping your folds as if to mock your need. You squinted at him, your chest hitching a heavy breath, tears pricking your eyes. “But I said… Oh…” You didn’t finish what you were saying, too distracted by the slick slide of his fingers inside of you. So good. You swallowed hard, your cunt squeezing his fingers desperately as his fingers curled, dragging against your g-spot as they pulled out before thrusting forward. 

“If your words meant anything, you wouldn’t need to be punished in the first place,” Suguru pointed out, although you weren’t paying very close attention, your body awkwardly trying to roll into his fingers as they slowly fucked you. He touched your clit with his other hand, once again ensuring that you would come quickly. 

Too quickly, really. The intensity of pleasure shocked you, especially since you were so sensitive, desperate for more. “Please, can I… will you please… Please?” you begged, your animal need curbed slightly by fear. 

“You should know that no other man will do this for you,” Suguru said. “No one else will ever care for you the way I do.”

You nodded fast, knowing that was the truth. No other person in the world had ever been as kind or compassionate to you as Suguru. Nobody had ever wanted you, or made you feel important, or given you purpose. You loved him. You felt that affection swell alongside your building orgasm. 

He would let you come this time, he wasn’t slowing down. His fingers made a sickening wet schlick as they pumped in and out of your pussy, working in time with the finger on your clit. You were there, your body taut and ready and desperate and-

A wail escaped you when he stopped at the last moment, your entire body jerking in desperation to reclaim your ruined orgasm. As soon as it was gone, he returned to touching you in the same way, vigorously chasing you back to the edge and abandoning you seconds before you could get off. 

“Please,” you begged.

“I told you no,” Suguru reminded you, adding a third finger to pump and curl into your pussy as if to punctuate the cruel statement. You were off the edge now, but your body still stupidly strove to take more pleasure. You blinked tears, confused and needy and trembling, your breathing shallow. 

“Why?” 

He didn’t answer, he didn’t need to. The touch on your clit had you throwing your head back, your nostrils flared and teeth clenched. Chains clicked together when you tried to free your arms, but it was a fruitless struggle. You didn’t want to respond to his touch in the same way, you needed a reprieve, but there was no escape. You were sensitive. Your body remembered coming once, and that was enough of an incentive to try to get more. 

“You can always stop me,” Suguru said. “If it becomes too much.”

“It’s…” you told him, although your attempt to seem brave was weakened by your breathy, pathetic voice. “I’m… I can take whatever you give me. I’m…” You sobbed, overwhelmed by the drag of his fingers against your g-spot. He barely had to put any pressure on your clit, it was so swollen beneath his teasing fingers. “Please, sir. I just… Just one, please?”

“I already let you come once,” he reminded you, amused. 

You moaned miserably, your head tossing back and forth as you readied yourself for another orgasm. You hoped that maybe if you could just come before he noticed, then that would be enough to soothe the horrible ache, the fearful deprivation he kept stoking to a blaze. 

It was there, right at your fingertips, on the tip of your tongue, and Suguru hummed happily when he suddenly pulled his fingers out of you. You shouted, thrashing against your bindings. They all held, keeping you helpless beneath him. 

“Please, I… please.” 

“No,” Suguru said, slowly pushing just one finger into you. You sobbed when he used it to massage your g-spot. Not giving you any real pressure or weight or friction, just that constant reminder of the pleasure you had been denied.

“I can’t,” you said tearfully, straining to get more out of that single finger like a starving woman being thrown crumbs. 

“You can,” Suguru told you. His word was gospel. It didn’t matter what you thought. 

He pulled his finger out before you could get too used to it, only to return with three. You choked, your body jerking hard enough against the restraints to hurt, suddenly thrown into high gear as he properly finger-fucked you, bouncing your entire body. 

It didn’t matter that he wasn’t touching your clit, you could get off just on this. Your body was thrumming with denied pleasure and you wanted it so bad you could scream. 

“Yes, yes, please, yes—No!” 

You were properly sobbing this time when he stopped, almost horrified by the intensity of your body’s disappointment when his fingers pulled out. You had no idea how he was getting the timing so perfect, but it was worse than if he was just hurting you. Suguru shoved his fingers into your open mouth while you were still reeling, smearing the taste of your pussy onto your tongue. You didn’t need his instruction to suck on them, hoping that the display of thoughtless obedience would earn you some leniency.   

“Good girl,” he cooed, pushing his fingers deeper into your mouth, almost enough to make you choke. When he pulled them out, he didn’t linger, kissing a line down your stomach. Your arms fought the restraints when you realized his intentions because you weren’t sure you could handle feeling his mouth on you like this, not if he was going to keep denying you. 

“No,” you whined. “Please, I… I can’t…” 

“Yes, you can,” Suguru said calmly, not even bothering to look up at you.

A heavy, almost guttural moan left your mouth when his tongue licked past your folds, tossing you right back into the abyss of lustful need. All he had to do was brace his forearm across the backs of your thighs and you were unable to do anything, your trapped arms and legs twitching, your feet kicking uselessly into the empty air, the chains connecting them to your wrists clicking. 

Suguru was good at this, switching between flat-tongued licks and pointed patterns, closing his lips around your clit until you were choking out these pathetic little chirps, your body reacting in a way entirely out of your control. 

And when you were there, right at the very edge, he pressed a kiss to your clit and looked up at you from beneath his dark eyelashes. 

You sobbed, throwing your head back in a childish display of disappointment. 

“You’re alright. Breathe,” Suguru said.

“Please,” you begged.

Suguru hummed as he lowered his head, shaking it side to side with his tongue flat against your clit. Your toes curled, your hands forming pathetic fists.  

It didn’t take much to build you up all over again, your entire body was wired and ready. You didn’t think you had ever felt so aware of yourself. Your skin, your pussy, your heart, your body, everything crackled and blazed. What was he doing, drawing kanji with his tongue? You didn’t know, but it felt amazing. You chased that feeling knowing you shouldn’t, thinking that maybe this time, maybe if you were fast enough. Maybe, maybe, maybe-

“No, please, I just wanna…” Suguru’s tongue stilled and he pulled away, watching you fall apart at yet another denied orgasm. “No!”

He casually pressed two fingers into you, massaging them against that spongy spot with a wet squish that was beyond obscene. “You know what to say to make me stop,” he told you.

“I know,” you said, wishing you could cover your face, wishing for some point of sanity here in this lust-mad haze. “I don’t want… Please, Geto-sama, I just wanna come, please.”

“Oh?” he said, his other hand returning to rest on your pelvic bone to playfully tease your clit. “Do you think you deserve that?” 

“I…” You tried desperately to figure out the correct answer by looking at his expression, but you couldn’t tell and his hands kept you distracted. Deserve didn’t matter, all you could think was that you wanted to come. “Yes?” you said, hoping very much that was the correct response, practically praying for the torment to end. His fingers slowed and you let out an embarrassing little keen. “Ah… No, no I…” His expression still didn’t change, leaving you scrambling. Your chest hiccupped with a sob, your confused spiral boiling down to the pit of desperate need. “I don’t know.”  

Rather than respond, Suguru’s head lowered between your legs once more to tongue your clit in time with his fingers. You felt a hot rush of hope that you got something right, that he was finally going to let you come. Your entire body surged towards the feeling, going so stiff that it made your trembling muscles ache. 

And there, right on the edge, he stopped. You didn’t have it within you to do anything other than cry, openly weeping at this point. If he were only teasing you it would be one thing, but he was purposefully working you right up to the edge and then abandoning you there. It was the feeling of being unable to sneeze amplified to a million, that torturous feeling of almost.  

“I’ll do anything, please,” you told him, your voice coming out broken.

“Are you saying you wouldn’t before?” Suguru asked. You opened your mouth to argue, only to realize that it didn’t matter. Nothing you said or did mattered, you were helpless to him. You had already surrendered everything else, the only thing you could do was obey and hope for his mercy.  

You understood. He didn’t want you to beg. He wanted you to obey. To be good for him without question. 

You could do that. 

Suguru pushed his fingers back into you, repeating the whole process of working you up and abandoning you again. And again. And then he added his mouth. There were several times in your life you’d been pushed to the absolute brink of sanity, and right then you were convinced that you were going to go mad. But you grit your teeth and endured it. You had to. This was your punishment, and Suguru would decide when to end your misery. 

You had to be good for him.  

Had you ever been this wet? Swollen too, all of your blood flowing dangerously hot between your legs. It was disgusting, your pussy was sloppy and red and he barely had to touch your clit at all to build you right up to that edge. And it was just as easy to let you fall, disappointed and unfulfilled and growing increasingly, painfully distraught from the denial. 

You beat your fists pathetically against the bed, hitting your head into the pillow like a madman. Air puffed out of your chest fast and hard enough to make your head spin, like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. 

Rather than continue the torture, Suguru grabbed your chin, dragging you out of your spiraling haze. His fingers were slick from being inside of you. You met his eyes through a veil of tears. “Have you had enough?” he asked, his voice wavering with a parody of pity. “I’m worried you’re going to hyperventilate.” 

You blinked fast, trying to gather the coherence to respond. “I can… I can take it,” you told him with a miserable sort of resolve, your voice thin and breathless. 

Suguru smiled. “Really? And if I said I intended to leave you like this, perhaps to go find a way to fix the mess you made?” 

The thought was enough to make you sob. His attention was torturously uncomfortable, but being completely denied any resolution, being left bound and soaking wet and electrified with unfulfilled need, you almost would have rathered he hit you. 

But you nodded, forcing yourself to accept it. Anything less would be to reject his authority over you, right? It would make you seem less loyal. “Anything,” you whispered.

“Ah, that look in your eyes is wonderful,” he cooed. “You mean it, don’t you?” 

You nodded insistently. “I love you,” you told him, speaking without thought, saying it because it was true. “I’ll do… I’ll do anything.”

“Okay, I’ll let you come,” Suguru said, releasing your face so his hand could wander back down between your legs. 

You made a weak noise, your body unconsciously jerking, straining towards him. 

It was pathetic, he barely had to do anything, simply brushing his flat fingers in light circles over your swollen clit. And that was enough. Fear flooded your insides alongside the same frantic, hot rush of pleasure. All of your muscles contracted in a mass of sore, shaking muscles and bestial desperation because you were afraid he would stop again, afraid that he would deny you and there would be no recourse other than pathetic acceptance.

“Please, please, I-I love you,” you plead, your voice whispery, rough and desperate, borderline incoherent.

And he didn’t stop. 

That wet, hot snap of release was one of the best things you had ever felt. You convulsed, chains clicking and leather chafing against your skin and his name spilling from your lips over and over. He worked you right through the orgasm. You were crying again, sobbing and shaking and sticky hot. It felt good. It felt like forgiveness. 

“Another?” Suguru asked. Your eyes had been shut, but now they opened to see his smile.

You just shook your head, lacking the capacity to respond. 

He didn’t wait, pushing three fingers into you while teasing your clit with his other hand. It forced your body through a surprisingly uncomfortable rubbery mixture of overstimulation and mindless need. It left you feeling like an elastic band being stretched and stretched. In spite of that feeling, a few solid, harsh pumps later and you were coming again, your pussy squeezing his fingers to keep them there while he worked you through it. There was very little drama to it, you were already wrung out. But it was good. Hot and wet and good. 

Suguru didn’t stop. You fought the restraints, wanting to move, to writhe, to get more comfortable, to take some control back because you needed a moment to collect yourself. 

“I really-” It was hard to speak. Hard to form the words. Hard to get them out. “Oh God, I—ah.”

Almost painfully sensitive, the rough pounding of his fingers against your g-spot started to register as too much. You fought the restraints, a different sort of panic setting in. To keep your body from rejecting the pleasure of his touch, Suguru doubled down against your clit, pressing a little harder. You had been starving, but now you were splitting full from the assault pleasure. 

“Too—oo much,” you got out through your teeth, although it probably didn’t seem like it was too much when your back was arching accordingly, your pussy clamping down around his relentless fingers, that coiling buildup of release reaching its apex. 

Your mouth opened in a silent scream, your fingers and toes clawing helplessly at the sheets as you came, practically choking on the hot feverish intensity of your orgasm. 

“No, it’s not,” Suguru told you. His fingers slowed at least, and then pulled out. It wasn’t much of a reprieve, he immediately shuffled down the bed so he could situate his head back between your thighs. 

You hissed, tensing up, your arms jerking against the restraints. Your clit was too sensitive for his tongue, he had to understand that. “You… You don’t… Have to,” you got out, your voice unsteady from how hard you were panting. “I don’t need-” 

“Don’t worry,” Suguru said sweetly. “I’m not doing this for you.”

The wet, warm patterns he drew on your clit with his tongue sent you into a sort of delirium. No matter how sensitive you thought you were, it was intoxicatingly good. He focused entirely on what made your hips try to jump, what made you moan and whine. When he slipped two fingers into your pussy at the same time, you felt ready to lose it entirely. You were falling apart. Splitting at the seams. You came with a harsh cry, Weeping at the fizzling heat of pleasure. 

Suguru didn’t stop. He just hummed and flattened his tongue and kept going, forcing you right past that sickening few seconds of sensory rejection and towards another orgasm. You could do it. You focused on that because even if you weren’t entirely sure you wanted more, you wanted to be good for him. How ungrateful would it be to not come when he was kind enough to eat you out? 

Covered in the sickly shine of sweat and shaking so uncontrollably that it felt like the world itself was trembling, you came again.  

When he was content you were done, Suguru stopped, pulling his fingers out with a final brush against your g-spot to make you whine, your body mindlessly writhing. He sat up, brushing back strands of sweaty black hair with the back of his hand. 

You wilted in place, closing your eyes to focus on your breathing while he messed with something else. It was hard to collect yourself, but you could already tell that you would be sore tomorrow. 

Hearing the shift of fabric, you opened your eyes to see Suguru remove his boxers. Despite your messily deteriorated state, the sight of his cock roused enough of your mind to focus. He was hard, the red-flushed head bobbed as he casually stroked himself which might have been for your benefit. Despite the sensory overload, your pussy tightened in anticipation of feeling him inside of you. If he fucked you and you did good enough to make him come, then you would be done. That was, at the very least, an end goal. One more thing you could endure for him, and then he would forgive you. 

Suguru looked down at you with a fond smile, an expression that seemed more than a little cruel when he was stroking his dick, when he knew fully well that you were painfully oversensitive and this would make it that much worse. 

“Should I make you beg?” he asked warmly, tapping the head against your painfully sensitive folds. You whimpered, squirming. You weren’t entirely sure you wanted this, and he probably knew that, but maybe that was the point. It didn’t matter, you wanted him, you wanted to be good for him, and that superseded every other thing you felt. 

“Please, Geto-sama,” you begged, defaulting to the formal address because you needed him to accept it, because he was your lord and master in every way except by name, because you adored him and worshiped him, and you needed him to understand that. “Fuck me, please. I’m yours.”

“So vulgar,” he said, sliding his cock up and down through the wet, sloppy mess he’d made of your pussy. “I wonder what happened to the sweet, innocent girl you used to be.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head. “Please.”

“I’m kidding,” Suguru told you, bracing one hand on your thigh to force your hips to curl while lining up his cock. “Aren’t you going to beg?”

“Please-”

“No, no. Look at me.”

You forced your eyes open, forced yourself to look up at him through tear-covered lashes. “Please, Geto-sama. Please, I’m yours.” 

It was nothing for him to push in. You were wet and eager and it felt good. The feeling of his cock popping past the initial barrier of muscle and driving deeper into your pussy was one of the most uniquely pleasurable sensations you had ever felt, no matter what the context. It gave you the sort of fullness nothing could replicate, physically grounded you in a way nothing else ever had. 

Since you were watching, you got to see his expression slacken into one of pleasure. Your pussy fluttered and squeezed, just making room for him. 

You gave up keeping your eyes open as he drove himself even deeper, throwing your head back to just take it, to ignore the discomfort of his cock grinding against what felt like raw nerves. Suguru braced his hands on your thighs as he rocked his hips, taking his time. 

“What does it feel like?” he asked. 

“Good,” you said quickly, your tongue feeling loose like you were drunk. “So… So good.” 

“I want to feel you come again,” he said. “You don’t mind, right?” 

Your eyes fluttered open in confusion, shutting when he suddenly snapped his hips forward. “I can’t,” you whined. “Not again.”  

“You can,” Suguru told you, grinding his cock as far into as he could, pressing as deep as possible, deep enough to make you whimper and writhe. Could he feel that? Could he feel the way you were shaking all the way down to your bones, feel the way your heart raced and fluttered and skipped? 

And then you heard it turn on. When you heard the buzzing, your brain was wildly scattered enough that you thought it was an electric toothbrush which made no sense whatsoever. When he pressed the vibrator directly to your clit, you yelped, trying to buck it off but only serving to grind yourself into his cock. 

A few little circles with the thing against your clit was all it took for you to choke, your body seizing up with another orgasm. You were acutely aware of the way it caused your cunt to squeeze and suck his cock, coating it in a fresh wave of arousal as he pulled out, making a horrible wet slap when he thrust back in. 

Suguru groaned, keeping the vibrator directly on your clit as he chose a slow, steady pace. 

“I can’t,” you tried to tell him, squirming and writhing with renewed vigor as your body started to tense up to come again. You couldn’t stop it and of course it felt good but it was too much, almost burning. You could handle it. If you came again it would hurt, especially coming with his cock grinding so persistently into your overly sensitive cunt. 

“I thought you were being good,” Suguru said, rewarding you with a heavy, harsh thrust that made you wail. And another. That sent you over the edge, whimpering and shaking and incoherent with the overwhelming influx of heat and tingling overstimulation. Like the brittle snap when breaking a glow stick, or taking a crisp, juicy bite of an apple. It should have been good, but all you could feel was the wet, helpless violation of something ruined. 

Suguru moaned openly, driving himself deep enough for his hips to slap your ass with each heavy thrust. Your head whipped from side to side, the only form of protest left to you. He kept moving the vibrator to make sure you didn’t get too accustomed to any one type of stimulation. It was torture. Horrible torture. You wouldn’t have thought coming could be so agonizing, and yet when you drew up for another sharp, shuddery orgasm you couldn’t recognize it as anything else. 

“Is this better or worse than before?” Suguru asked, his words stuttered with each hard thrust. 

“I don’t… I can’t…” You couldn’t think. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t do anything except convulse and cry and come. Again. 

You didn’t understand. 

“You don’t know?” he asked, breathy yet amused. “You’ll have to—to tell me later.” 

The problem was that you had no place to think. You were too full. Suguru continued fucking you hard and steady. All you could hear was the slick slapping of wet skin and that infernal buzzing. There was so much weight behind every movement, like he was trying to batter his way into your womb. Each thrust was followed by a whimper or moan or cry. And the relentless vibrator against your clit. It hurt. It burned. 

“I don’t… don’t…” 

“You’re… not done,” Suguru told you, his voice heavy and breaking with exertion. “Come again.” 

You weren’t sure if you were actually crying anymore, or just sobbing and panting and so sweaty it felt like you were crying. You couldn't form any coherent words, or even incoherent rejections. So you obeyed, the taste of blood on your tongue and stars dotting your vision, your pussy burning and inner walls pulsing around his cock as you came again. Suguru groaned, his lovely lips parted and eyes closed. 

“One more,” he demanded. “Just… Just one… More.” That word was punctuated with a hard thrust and an especially cruel grind of the vibrator against your overstimulated clit. There was no point in saying no, or even believing it wasn’t possible. He knew more than you did. You didn’t know anything. 

With a miserable whine, you came again, although at this point it felt like there was just a long, helpless flow of overstimulation marked with waves of overbearing heat, and then your pussy tightened around his cock and it dragged cruelly against your g-spot, and that was all you could manage before you were tossed back into the mindless daze of agonizing excess.

“Even though it hurts, you’re…” He didn’t finish that breathless thought, although his amused smile went away when his hips suddenly stuttered and he fell forward, his forearm resting by your shoulder. 

Mercifully, Suguru shut the vibrator off, letting it fall somewhere to the side, bracing his other arm on the bed next to you as he sought his own end. Your arms and legs fell to the side, slack except for when your muscles spasmed or jerked. Every thrust added to the relentless cycle of too much, especially from this angle, you could feel the way your body worked itself up to come again, responding to his pleasure as if it were your own. 

“Geto-sama… Suguru please,” you begged and there was a chance he couldn’t make out that you were attempting to form actual words, but even with your sanity fraying at the edges from his torture, you wanted him to come. You wanted to know there was a reason for your complete unraveling, that you had a real, good purpose, some sort of justification to exist. 

Suguru forced your knees all the way up to your chest, pushing his cock as deep as possible as he came, working himself through it with shallow thrusts and these intoxicatingly sexy stuttered moans. Distantly, beyond the hellish, sweaty shell of your shaking body, you had the distinct thought that everything was worth it just to hear him moan like that. Just to be rewarded by his pleasure. Because you loved him. Because you belonged to him. Both of you were flushed hot and disturbingly slick with sweat and it hurt for him to be pushing so deep. Out of all the little cruelties he had subjected you to, the fact that you were unable to hold onto him like you wanted was one of the worst. 

When Suguru pulled out, that hurt too. Every part of your body hurt. He left you to fall bonelessly limp onto the bed, rolling around to lay next to you. 

In the relative quiet, your ears rang with a tinny discordance, paired with the engine roar of rushing blood. Your tongue was sandpaper in your mouth—little wonder, you had no idea how you had any liquid left in your body—and your limbs hurt from being stuck in the bound position for so long, but you couldn’t say you wanted to do anything to fix those things. As soon as the severity of those discomforts occurred to you, so were they carried away by the lapping tide of exhaustion. You felt like a sponge that had been squeezed dry. That’s probably what you looked like too.   

“I didn’t expect it to be so… Difficult to contain myself,” Suguru mused softly. You didn’t respond, marveling at his voice. It was very nice. So soothing and smooth. Perfect, just like every other part of him. “It’s wrong, but necessary. You never learned the right way to live, I have to guide you. Otherwise you could hurt yourself. You could hurt our family.” There was more conviction in those words, like he was trying to argue against a point you hadn’t made. 

Even if you were to be unbound, you wouldn’t dare close your legs. You couldn’t feel his cum slipping out, maybe you were too swollen. That would explain the painful heat. 

“I wish I didn’t have to make my point like this,” Suguru continued. “But I'll do whatever it takes for you to get it.” 

Mute confusion was the only thing you had left—you were barely aware enough to listen to what he was saying, let alone divine any meaning from the words. Your body hurt and you were thirsty and sweaty and tired. You didn’t think anything. You couldn’t do anything. You couldn’t say anything. It wasn’t even confusion, it was just pure exhaustion. 

“Ah, you’re a mess,” Suguru said, sitting up. You groaned in disapproval when he started messing with the straps around your thighs, taking them off. Without the harness's support, your legs dropped limp onto the bed. Still, you didn’t move. You couldn’t fathom moving. “Hey,” he chided, “don’t go to sleep.”

You grunted unhappily. 

“Will you open your eyes?” Suguru asked, touching your fever-hot cheek. After a second, you did, meeting his gaze with your own dazed, blank stare. His expression was tender, you thought. So kind, so sweet, so gentle. “I need you to listen to me now, hm?” 

You made a sound to show that you were listening, looking up at his beautiful face with a marveling sort of adoration. Suguru really was beautiful. It was little wonder so many people thought he was a holy man. He undid the chains keeping your hands and ankles connected, letting your arms flop lifelessly into the sweaty sheets.

“I forgive you,” Suguru told you, his eyes scanning your body slowly, taking in the sweat and the reddish flush and the twitching, trembling of your muscles with some kind of affection. “But, and I need you to remember this,” he continued, his eyes returned to yours, “next time you disobey me, it will be worse.”

Worse? You couldn’t imagine worse. The idea of worse made your eyes sting, panic threatening to crawl back out of the abyss of your exhaustion to send you into a fit of tears.

You blinked and swallowed against your dry throat. “I’ll be… be good, I promise,” you said in a voice that was little more than a hoarse croak. 

“Shhh,” Suguru shushed softly, brushing your damp hair off of your sweaty forehead. “Don’t be scared. Everything I do, I do because I love you. You are precious to me, you know that, don’t you?”

Those words worked like ether sweet anesthesia through your head and you believed him, loved him, trusted him. He did this because he loved you, and because you needed to learn. Of course. That made sense even if nothing else did. 

[apomaro-mellow]

Steve’s parents are in a cult and sacrifice him for their own gains. Yall can thank @whoevenknowsdude for giving me the motivation not to give up on this version.

The party was going on as usual. Steve had been to many of them before. The earliest he remembered was being five and led around by his mother’s hand, then eventually being handed off to a nanny for the rest of the evening. It was always some sort of parade. As a young child, he was the cute baby version of his father. Something for the women to coo at.

Around 11 he was a growing lad who was expected to cause a little trouble. Then at 14 he was a young man with a promising future. 

Growing up, there was one part he was always dreading. The point where people tried to set him up with their daughters, or granddaughters, or nieces. He heard pieces of such transactions all the time. 

‘Oh you must meet my daughter.’ 

‘You know Celia is about your age...’ 

‘So have you got a girlfriend?’

Steve caught glimpses of the older boys either politely rebuffing or ending up engaged with someone. This was a very insular crowd, he knew that. Still, he hoped he’d have something resembling a choice when the time came.

And yet, as he got older, no one rushed to introduce him to anyone. It confused him to no end. He had no trouble attracting girls at school and all of his parents’ friends thought he was charming. He came from good stock. Why did no one want him to marry their daughter?

He tried not to feel so offended by it. But it was just so bizarre. 

But back to tonight. It was going like it always did. Steve spent most of it by his parents’ sides, only occasionally going off on his own. He made nice conversation, had a drink or two, despite being nineteen, and kept the Harrington name good and golden.

As the hour got late though, it got to the point where most of the men split off to have cigars. Steve was usually excused at this point but this time his father put a hand on his shoulder and led him to the next room. He took part in more conversation about his prospects (not going to school but who needed to when he was planning on succeeding his father) and drank some brandy.

“Steve, it’s time we discussed your future”, his father said, letting out a puff of cigar smoke.

“What about it...exactly?”, Steve asked.

“That sometimes we must defer to a higher power.”

“....Right...”

“Steven”, one of the other men started. “You ever take one for the team?”

“Yeah, plenty of times. But what are you guys talking about what’s going on?”, Steve asked.

“Come with me, son.”

Steve got up and followed his father. The other men came along down the stairs into the basement of the clubhouse. But then it went deeper.

“History is filled with ambitious figures, Steve. People who did whatever it took to reach their goals. Tonight it’s up to you to take us even higher.”

“Up to me? What do you want me to do?”

They came to the bottom of the stairs. His mother was already waiting, along with the other women. There was a large stone slab with restraints on it and Steve felt his stomach drop at the implication. But he didn’t want to believe it. It was too crazy.

“Mom, Dad...what are we doing here?”

“The higher power we worship will give us fortune beyond what we could dream of”, his father said. “But everything has its price.”

Before Steve could utter another question, he felt hands on him, gripping and pushing him towards the slab. He struggled and screamed for both of his parents. For some kind of explanation. For something that made sense. But he could feel his sanity slipping as they got him on the altar and tied his limbs down.

Lawrence, 50, with an unconvincing hairpiece stood over him. Steve never liked Lawrence. He always looked at him weird and his touches lingered like he was inspecting a piece of meat.

He was doing it now, trailing a hand up his tied up arm.

“I can’t thank you enough for your sacrifice, Steven. And your parents for bringing up such good stock. I have no doubt he will be pleased with you.”

“I don’t know what the fuck is going on but there’s no way you’re going to kill me for-for what? More money?”

His mother came into view, her expression mournful and Steve wanted to vomit.

“Steve, my love, we won’t be killing you. We could never do that. We just need a bit of your blood. After that....well after that....”

“Our lord will do what he wants with you. And with their lot I can only imagine he will want to devour your soul”, his father finished.

“So you are killing me.”

“We won’t be dealing the killing blow”, his father said. “And who is to say you won’t survive?”

Steve took a deep breath through his nose. This was insane. But it seemed like they at least didn’t plan to put a stake through his heart. He’d lose a bit of blood, they’d probably chant, and then when their demon lord didn’t show up, he could get a shower and then maybe disown his parents.

That didn’t make this situation any less shitty though.

Then someone ripped open his jacket and shirt, exposing his chest. Both of his parents were given knives. The knowledge that they didn’t intend to kill him quell that instinctual fear. Steve had always been a good kid. But sometimes good wasn’t enough. Sometimes he wondered if his parents regretted having him. So his current view wasn’t helping at all in that regard.

They both cut a slit right in the center of his palms and he hissed. They then took his blood and drew a symbol on his stomach. 

There was indeed chanting but between the alcohol, his bleeding hands, and the general delirium, Steve couldn’t make it out. God, he just wanted this to be over. He just wanted normal parents who didn’t sacrifice their own son to the devil.  He wanted a lot of things but it seemed like life would disappoint him one last time.

“Whoa! You’ve got a real party going on here”, a voice said, coming down the stairs.

“Who the hell are you?”, one of the chanters demanded.

Steve craned his neck to see....some guy. It was just some guy, in a black tank top and ripped jeans.

“Who? Me?”, he came to the bottom of the steps and looked around. “Was I not summoned? I thought I heard my name.”

“Someone get this fool out of here!”

“Oh, I see what the issue is. I’m not in the proper attire. My bad.” He took a few more steps forward, right into the range of the men who had advanced on him. Then flames erupted from his body, burning them in an instant. When the fire dissipated, Steve let out a gasp and started to actually pull against his restraints.

This was real! Fuck this was real! A real demon with horns and claws and fangs and shit-were those wings?! He had to get out of here, even if that meant ripping his hands and feet off to escape.

Turned out that was the wrong move. In seconds, the demon crossed the room on all fours and climbed atop the slab to hover over Steve.

“My lord”, Steve’s father said in an impressively even tone. “We offer you our greatest sacrifice-” He was cut off with a deep growl, one that Steve felt in his bones, being this close.

“You...haven’t...sacrificed....anything.” The demon turned its gaze to Steve, lying under him. “But you still have so much to give.” He touched a clawed hand to Steve’s stomach where the bloody symbol was. “Will you give it to me?”

Steve let out a breath. He was going to die. He was going to die and what did he have to show for it? Actually....what did he have to show for it if he lived tonight? Maybe it would be painless, this soul sucking. He just wanted to be done.

“Just take it”, Steve said. “Take whatever you want.”

The demon laughed darkly. “I always do.” He smeared a clawed hand against Steve’s torso, messing up what was drawn there. He sniffed his hand and let out a sigh. 

“Steve!”, his mother shrieked and he wondered if she had just realized what she was giving him up for.

“They spilt your blood for their own gains. Now to me, that doesn’t seem fair”, the demon said. “Don’t you think they should have to give something up? Don’t you want them dead?”

Steve dared to look the demon in his face. The eyes betrayed nothing. Just a blank, red void. But there was something about his expression anyway. Something in the quirk of his lip, the tilt of his head. Steve wondered if he actually would kill everyone in this room if he asked. As for himself, well, despite everything Steve couldn’t ask that of him. He really only wanted one thing and this might be his single chance to voice it out loud.

“I just want to be free.”

“Now see here”, Lawrence said, wagging a finger. “We have been your loyal servants. Our wishes-cckhk!”

He was cut off when the demon’s tail wrapped around his neck, dragging him closer. The demon brought him over until they were eye to eye.

“I would go ahead and count the blessings I already have. You all get to live another day.” He dropped Lawrence, ignoring his gasps for breath as he looked back down at Steve. “And you’re coming with me.”

Flames swirled around them but Steve didn’t feel any heat. Just a rush of warm wind as his restraints disappeared. The light got too bright though and he closed his eyes. When he no longer felt the light behind them, he opened them up, expecting the fires of hell, or a dark abyss of a pit. Maybe even some combination of the two.

Instead he found that he was in a….cramped apartment. The demon was back to the tank top and jeans and Steve wondered if someone had slipped something into a drink.

“You live here?”

The demon stuck his hands in his back pockets. “Whenever I come topside, yeah. And for the time being, so do you.”

“Me?”

“Don’t tell me you wanna go back to those assholes. Not after they-” He stopped speaking and his nostrils flared. Then he looked down.

Steve followed his gaze and saw that his hands were dripping blood onto the floor. “Ah, shit, sorry I-” He was about to wipe it on his ruined shirt when the demon grabbed a wrist, freezing him in place. His words were caught in his throat when the demon took a long sniff at the blood still slowly dripping out of his palm. He looked Steve in the eye as he slowly licked it clean. When the blood was gone, Steve saw his hand was completely healed.

The demon took his other hand and did the same, but somehow went even slower. The licks were punctuated with what could have been open mouth kisses but Steve wasn’t sure. Either the demon was making out with his hand or trying to eat him with little success.

When that one was finished, the demon looked at him and Steve was taken with how blown his eyes were. Like Steve’s blood was top shelf.

“B-buy a guy dinner first, huh?”

The demon came back into himself and took a step back, releasing Steve’s hand. “Yeah, sorry it’s just-yeah…” He cleared his throat and then turned, going deeper into the apartment. “So my home is your home, until you figure out exactly what you wanna do. Um, bathroom’s over there I’m sure you wanna get the rest of that blood off.”

He looked almost nervous to have Steve here. And the absurdity of that made Steve let out a chuckle. And then everything came crashing down on him and he started to laugh in earnest. The demon’s anxious stance just made more laughter bubble forth. What the fuck had his life become?

“Are you okay?”

“I just realized why none of them wanted me to date their daughters.” Steve pushed his hair out of his face. “They knew they’d be giving me to you.” As he laughed the tears started to fall. The demon looked even more shocked but then he came over and wrapped his arms around Steve.

“I don’t know why I’m laughing. Or why I’m crying.”

“Because it’s fucked up man. Like hilariously fucked up. And sometimes you gotta laugh about that crap.” The demon pulled away just enough to look Steve in the eye. “But you’re better than what you just left behind. You proved that by letting them live.”

Steve wiped at his eyes. “Well you already burned a couple of them. Wait, you killed them!”

“Collateral damage when I let my flames loose. I don’t like being touched.” He seemed to realize he was doing just that and raised his hands in the air before taking two steps away from Steve.

“I don’t even know your name. And you would’ve actually killed them for me?”

“Oh I go by Eddie nowadays.” He turned and looked like he was trying to make himself busy by picking things up and putting them down.

“Eddie? Just Eddie?”

“Short for Edifice. Um, did you want that shower?”

“I….” Steve still had questions. But he felt barely functioning right now. Like if he got one more bit of information his brain would explode.

“Steve….You’re free now. That was what you asked for.” The demon, no, Eddie, his name was Eddie, was smiling at him.

“I want….to go to sleep.”

Eddie started to walk away and Steve followed. He led him to a room where the bed took up most of the space.

“It’s yours for tonight. And tomorrow, well it’s all up to you now.”

Steve collapsed against the bed. He vaguely registered his shoes being taken off but soon fell into oblivion.

Part 2

[mothiir]

not a request, more of a fun fact because i saw another sanguinius fan here yesterday and i can’t find her blog for the life of me.

supposedly birds, particularly male birds, associate their wings being stroked with sexual stimulation and will become very sexually frustrated if it’s not taken care of. Stroking their wings too often will also cause them to associate you with being a mate instead of a friend or companion, which causes them to be jealous and possessive over you.

do with this information what you will

So what I did with this is write some sanguinius being a wee bit feral but also being the noble boy we love. Also I need to start writing things that aren’t dubcon because why is this the healthiest relationship I’ve written so far

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cw: slightly lewd, implications of violence

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—

It probably starts off completely by chance: you’re cleaning, and Sanguinius swans into his quarters without noticing you. Even the noblest of the Emperor’s sons will sometimes fail to acknowledge the staff, especially when he is distracted -- and oh, is the poor thing distracted. He’s just had to sit through a four hour meeting -- hosted by Roboute, with the Lion in attendance, and he has been zigzagging between acute boredom and blinding frustration -- and, on top of all of that, he is moulting. He claws his robe off his body, stretching his wings out to their full span. He makes a primal sound of pure satisfaction, contorting his sleek golden body to dig his fingers into his tender flesh, trying to unroot the snarls of not-quite loose feathers. Some come free easily; others snag. He wishes he was in Bhaal, where he could stretch himself out in the hot dry dust, and squirm back and forth, letting the acrid soil scratch the most stubborn of itches. Alas, there is no such amenity here, only -- 

It’s then he notices you, cloth in hand, frozen. At his gaze, you immediately drop to your knees, touch your forehead to the floor. 

“My lord Primarch -- forgive me --”

“Forgive you for what?” he says, lightly. “There is nothing to forgive; you are doing your duty. You are excused -- there is plenty aboard to be cleaned.”

You stand somewhat shakily, twisting the cloth between your hands. “Yes my lord. Of course my lord. It is just --”

You know a little about birds -- enough to recognise the signs of a highly uncomfortable moult. And Sanguinius is not a bird but the greatest man you have ever known, and yet…and yet you cannot help yourself. 

“--I wonder if I could be of assistance? With the uh -- with the pin feathers. The ones that aren’t open, I can see a few -- “

You make an aborted little gesture: fingers closing, as if around an invisible reed, pinching slightly, dragging up. Precisely the way he sees to his own pin feathers, letting the keratin sheathe surrounding them crumble against his grip, freeing the filament within. 

“My mother keeps birds,” you offer, as an explanation, then flush. “Not that you are one, my lord -- not --”

He chuckles at your unease, and settles himself down on his bed, patting the red silk quilt beside him. 

“Come. Assist me, if you are so keen.”

Many quail at the sight of him -- despite what Horus thinks, Sanguinius is more revered than beloved, and the difference between the two is stark -- but you do not. You approach him with downturned eyes, smelling faintly of fear, but you still approach him. 

Your hands are small and swift, deftly opening up the feathers in need of help, leaving the ones not yet ready. You work for hours, until your hands must be cramping from effort, but you do not quibble or complain. You smooth his primaries, straighten them in line with each other; you tug free lumps of down with sharp efficient gestures. Slowly, the itching fades, and with it the frustration. Before Sanguinius quite knows what he is doing, he has sprawled himself back onto the mattress, pulling you with him. You use the new angle to your advantage, reaching under his flank to work at the feathers closest to his wingjoints. 

“There,” you say, just as he feels about ready to drift off. His eyes are half-lidded, and a slight smile curves his lips. “That looks…better. You’re not done moulting yet, but that’s what I can do for now.”

“You’ll return tomorrow,” he says, a request and a command and a question all at once. Your cheeks are wonderfully pink as you nod. He ponders briefly what all that delicious blood would taste like, spilling down his throat, and then shoves the thought to the side. He will not ruin your helpfulness with his hunger. 

The next night, you perform the same job, and the night after that, and the night after that. His moult ends, but he thinks it best that you keep returning: caring for his wings is an important duty, after all, and you are so very good at it. So eager to please.

(A voice that sounds distressingly like Konrad’s says what else would she do to please you, golden one? -- but he ignores that, for he must.)

The problem becomes apparent not during those long late nights as you preen him while he tries to think of anything but how sweet your blood would taste, but in the middle of his ship. He has just led his sons to an astounding victory, coming to the aid of a local governor against a fleet of xenos raiders, and -- as is tradition -- they are celebrating, hosting the Imperium’s great and good aboard the Red Tear. The ballroom they gather in is built to accommodate a Primarch, with a huge arched ceiling, draped with scarlet silk. The walls are festooned with artwork of immense beauty, most painted by the Blood Angels themselves: scenes of battles hard won, golden cities on green hills, birds flying free over great glittering lakes. Sanguinius makes a speech, praising the well-fought battle of the planetary defense force against the raiders -- and meaning every word -- and then retires to a corner to sip his wine and try to relax. He cannot walk amongst the delegates without people dropping to their knees in supplication, so he finds that becoming part of the furniture is the best approach for a restful party for all.

That is when he sees you. You’re wearing the same basic formal outfit all of the serfs wear -- fine scarlet linen, embroidered with gold -- but you’ve altered the wide-legged trousers into a skirt, which swishes around your ankles as you move; a slit halfway up your thigh gives him a tantalizing glimpse of pale flesh, and his mouth goes dry. 

Deep in conversation with one of the proud young soldiers, you’re completely oblivious to Sanguinius’s hungry gaze. At least -- he hopes you is, because you laugh at something your companion says and then he touches your shoulder.

Before he can control himself, Sanguinius crosses the ballroom, picks up the young human and rips him in two, showering you both with a fountain of gore. Your scream stills in your throat, eyes bugging with terror, as he gathers you close, tongue running along your pulsing jugular, claws biting into your flesh as he shreds your garment, intent on claiming you then and there, his mate, his woman, his --

That, of course, is not what happens. What actually happens is that Sanguinius stalks towards you, a beatific smile pasted over his face, and the poor young man immediately steps backwards; his logical mind sees the Primarch, and is awestruck; but his primal lizard brain screams this is a predator you have to run. 

“I will have to steal you away, if you don’t mind,” he says, and of course you do not mind -- because you are his. His woman. His mate. As he steers you out of the ballroom, you confide in a low voice:

“Thank you. He was lovely, but just a little too eager. I think he was all of seventeen!”

Sanguinius knows he should feel ashamed that he had come this close to gutting a child-soldier who had the misfortune of making you laugh, but he doesn’t. He feels a little guilty at his lack of guilt, but that is it. If he had slain the boy it would have been his right, as your lord and master --

No. No. That is not him; that is not how he acts, nor how he behaves. Those impulses come to him for he is a warhawk and a warrior, but he does not act on them because he is not a monster. 

“These parties do get tiresome,” he says, ushering you ahead of him. “I am glad I have you to keep me company while we avoid them.”

You end up back in his bedroom, combing your fingers through his feathers. He melts under your touch, every sinew in his back starting to relax. Soon -- hopefully soon -- he will have you squirming and mewling under him, your legs spread eagerly for him, your tight little body welcoming him deep inside. Soon. When he is sure that you are saying yes because you want to, not because the overwhelming force of his desire is warping your own feelings. When he can trust himself not to hurt you anymore than you want to be hurt. 

Sanguinius can hold tight to his self control for that. For your sake. For his. 

[andvys]

We'll burn the sky | part six

Warnings: a lot of angst, mentions of suicide (reader's dad's death), mentions of drug abuse, absent parents, mentions of cheating

Pairings: Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Rockstar!fem!reader | Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham

Summary: after finding out the truth about Eddie, you struggle with your feelings and your trust in him.

Words count: 7.6k

@littledemondani thank you for the idea with the *cough* kiss *cough*

Series masterlist

-

When you were 7 years old, you watched your mother pack your clothes into the pink bag your dad gave you for your birthday. You were crying, holding your favorite plushie against your chest as you stared at her. 

“Please mom, I don’t want to go,” you said to her, “I wanna stay with you.” 

Your mother didn’t listen and if she did, she didn’t care. She threw your clothes and your shoes in there, not even bothering to fold your shirts or your pants. 

“I can’t do this anymore.” Is all she said to you, letting the tears fall down her pretty face, “he can take better care of you.”

“I don’t want to live with Dad, he’s never home.” 

Your words meant nothing to her. She continued to pack your clothes until they were all stuffed in the bag. She grabbed your hand and led you to her car. She dropped you off at your Dad’s house. She gave you one last hug and a goodbye kiss on your forehead before she left you standing in the rain, crying for her not to go, not caring that he wouldn’t be home until later that night. 

That was the last time you had seen her. Sometimes she would call or send you a letter but that’s all. She never gave you an explanation as to why she left you. 

You weren’t shocked, even at the age of 7, you could tell that she struggled with you in her life, you saw it coming. 

At the age of 12, you watched your dad being hospitalized after a concert. He collapsed on stage after performing the last song of the night. You watched him sing from backstage and when you saw him passing out, you didn’t even hesitate to run towards him, brushing Sam’s hands off of you when he tried to pull you away from your dad. 

They told you that he was dehydrated and tired and that is why he had passed out but you weren’t clueless. Even then, you already knew what he did when he locked himself in the bathrooms and came out wiping his nose.

You weren’t shocked about what happened that night. 

He was an amazing dad and when you moved in with him, he did everything to make you happy. He spent as much time with you as he could but he was a suffering person and you knew that it was only a matter of time before he left you too. 

At the age of 15, you watched your best friend choosing others over you. She began to pull away from you more and more, every day. Always making excuses to cancel plans with you. She’d tell you she was sick but then you’d see her making plans with other people, with girls that didn’t like you. 

That didn’t shock you either. 

At the age of 17, your life changed forever. 

On Christmas Eve, you came home after visiting Sam and his family. You brought the cookies that his kids made, the ones that your dad loved so much. You placed them on the counter before you went looking for him, thinking that you would find him in his office. 

You could still smell his cologne and the pine from the christmas tree that stood in the large living room whenever you thought of that day. 

A dreadful feeling settled in your stomach when you didn’t hear his voice or the sound of his guitar playing. 

He wasn’t in his office, he wasn’t in his bedroom either and deep down you already knew what you would find. You called out to him with a shaky voice as you neared the open bathroom door. You opened it fully and the sight in front of you made you want to throw up. 

Your dad was laying on the bathroom floor, needle still sticking inside his skin, his eyes were closed, he was already gone.

You ran towards him and dropped to your knees, you pulled his dead body into your lap and cried for him to wake up even though you knew that he would never wake up again, he would never open his eyes again, he would never come back again.

What you found that night didn't shock you either, you saw it coming. He had been dead for a long time already, what was left was only an empty shell.

But nothing, absolutely nothing could have prepared you for this moment. 

You stand frozen in place, your heart is racing in your chest, you feel the emptiness in your stomach starting to eat at you. The coil in your throat makes you struggle to breath. 

Her lips are moving but you can’t hear what she is saying. 

You blink, furrowing your brows as you tear your eyes away from her and look into those brown eyes that you have found home in. He is staring at you, looking into your eyes with shock, sadness, panic, regret and guilt, the guilt that has been there so many times, the guilt that you couldn’t explain until now. 

And even though she is there and other's are rushing past you, no one else exists in that moment but the two of you as you stare into each other's eyes.

You are confused and lost. There is no other emotions yet, just endless confusion.

Your eyes trail down to her hand that is resting on his chest, her body is pressed against his, she is smiling as she looks up at him, not realizing that he isn’t even listening to a word she is saying.

Your breath gets caught in your throat when you notice that his hand is laying on the small of her back. The hand that had been holding yours a few moments ago. Your eyes find his again and you can’t even hide the shock on your face. 

You don’t need words, you don’t need an explanation, you don't need to ask questions to find out what this is. 

She is his. He is hers. They are together. 

How long have they been together? How long has he been keeping this from you?

Chrissy.

His voice calling her name echoes in your mind.

Chrissy. Chrissy. Chrissy.

You have heard that name before.

He feels sick, he feels like crying, he feels like taking your hand in his and running away, not even caring about the girl in his arms, that one he hasn’t thought about once today. 

His heart aches in his chest when he sees the look on your face.

He pleads with his eyes, he blinks as he feels the tears welling up in his eyes. 

‘What have I done?’ he thinks to himself. 

“Eddie…. Eddie!” 

Chrissy’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts, he tears his eyes away from you and looks down at her. Blinking the tears away, he tries to give her a smile but he can’t, he only looks at her in confusion. Why is she here?

She smiles at him and snuggles into his chest, “aren’t you happy to see me?” 

He doesn’t answer her, he looks up at you but you are gone. Panicked, he starts looking around for you but he can’t see you anywhere. 

He closes his eyes, a shaky sigh falls from his lips.

You let your feet carry you towards the others, who are waiting to go on stage. None of them notice the confused and shocked look on your face. Gareth and Jeff are joking around, Johnny occupies himself with his guitar. 

The opening act is still playing but you can barely hear anything, you feel as though you are underwater, hearing the faint voices coming from somewhere on the surface. 

Your chest is rising up and down heavily. 

You don’t understand. 

“You okay, kid?” Rob asks, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

You flinch and he raises his hands up in surrender, “whoa, it’s just me, y/n,” he mumbles. The boys turn around to look at you after hearing his words. Jeff furrows his brows when he sees the lost and confused look on your face. 

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks, taking a step towards you, “did something happen?” 

The confused look stays in your eyes as you stare at him. Does he know? 

“Where’s Eddie?” Gareth asks, looking at you in concern. 

Rob places his drink on the equipment cart before he takes a step forward, “kid, are you okay? You’re about to go on stage. Do you feel sick or nauseous, do you need something–” 

“Oh shit,” Jeff mumbles as he catches the sight of Eddie, holding Chrissy’s hand as he walks towards you. 

“Fuck,” Gareth sighs with an unreadable look on his face. 

Your stomach drops. Closing your eyes, you let out a laugh of disbelief. They all know. 

The only clueless one is your manager, he looks around with confusion written all over his face. 

Jeff mumbles your name as he tries to place his hand on your shoulder but you slap it away with an angry sigh. 

“Hi, guys.” 

You hear her voice and it makes your heart ache even more. 

“Hi.. Chrissy.” 

You feel so much hurt and so much anger but you refuse to let them see it right now, you refuse to let these feelings take control of you right now. 

‘Pull yourself together,’ you think to yourself. Taking a deep breath, you plaster a smile on your face and turn around to look at the girl, you have yet to speak to. 

Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see Eddie shifting uncomfortably. 

Her eyes meet yours and a smile appears on her face– a smile, you can tell, is not genuine in any way. You can see the distaste in her eyes, the jealousy, the coldness, “hi, I’m Chrissy. I’m Eddie’s girlfriend.” 

Girlfriend. You want to throw up. 

“Girlfriend?” you ask with a smile on your face, “Eddie never told me he has one and he usually tells me everything, right Eddie?” you say without looking at him. 

She blinks, squinting her eyes, her lips twitch, “I-I’m sure he told you, after all he wrote all those songs about me,” she says, tilting her head as she looks you up and down. You can see the judgmental look in her eyes. 

He wrote the songs about her? You want to scoff, you want to laugh, you want to scream and cry. He wrote the songs before he came to Los Angeles, he wrote the songs when he was still in Hawkins. All this time, he had been with her already, when he met you, he had already been with her, when he touched you he was with her, when he kissed you he was with her, when he said all those things to you, he was with her.

“What songs?” you laugh, shaking your head. You watch the anger appearing in her eyes, her lips part and she’s about to say something when you cut her off. 

“Oh, you mean the songs that were shit? They didn’t even make it on the album, honey.” 

Eddie can’t even be hurt by your words, the songs were shit but he feels surprised. He stares at you with a slightly shocked look in his eyes, just a few minutes ago, you stood there with a heartbroken look in your eyes and now there was nothing but a coldness in them, he has never seen before and it scares him. 

Rob raises his brows, he places his hands on his hips and looks around with wide eyes. 

Gareth clears his throat, he looks down and starts playing with his drumsticks. 

“Didn’t you listen to the album?” you ask. 

She shifts uncomfortably, playing with the hem of her skirt as she looks up at her boyfriend. He looks back at her and you look down at his hand, she is holding it but his hand is limp in her touch. 

“It’s not my style,” Chrissy mumbles, giving you an icy glare.

"But he wrote those songs about you," you tilt your head, pouting slightly.

She hates you, you can tell that she does. You can see it in her eyes.

She only shrugs in response.

You nod, “well, I hope it won’t be too wild for you tonight,” you mumble as you give her one last look before you turn away from her and Eddie. The boys are all avoiding looking into your eyes and you scoff at them. 

Reaching for the glass of whiskey that Rob placed on the table. 

“Wait–” Rob mumbles but quickly stops when he sees the anger in your eyes, waving his hand, he turns away from you. 

Eddie watches with a bad feeling in his chest. 

You slam the now empty glass back on the table and take a look at him, “better get your good luck kiss, Munson,” you mutter as you reach for the red microphone on the table. 

His lips part, he wants to say something but no words come out. 

The soft look in your eyes long gone, all there is now is the angry, betrayed and cold look in your eyes and it breaks his heart. He wants to take your hand, he wants to leave this place, he wants to explain everything, he wants to pull you into his arms, he wants to kiss you again and beg you to go back to the way things were.

Everyone notices the shift of energy. Everyone notices the anger and the intensity in your voice. 

You don’t change anything about your performance with Eddie, you let him touch you the way he always does, you let him pull you closer, you let him touch your waist, you let him lean his forehead against yours, you let him sing in your microphone with you. 

You can feel his fear, his regret, his guilt. 

He can feel your anger, your pain and the stiffness in your body when he lays his hands on your body. 

The anger and the rage is so clear in your voice and in some weird way, it makes you even better. 

Usually, you engage with the crowd a lot more but tonight, all you see is Eddie. You look into his eyes with so much anger, it makes him nervous. 

The pain doesn’t hit you until the last song- the one that you have spend so much time working on with him. The realization that floods through you makes your heart hurt the way it never has before. Everything begins to make sense. Why he never told you, why they boys never told you. 

He used you, in every way possible and the realization makes you feel sick.

You let him take your hand as you say your goodbye’s and you let him keep holding your hand when you exit the stage. You see Rob staring at you in concern and you see Chrissy staring at yours and Eddie’s hands with anger in her eyes and it only makes you even more sick. 

He has a girlfriend, he had one all this time. 

You rip your hand out of his. 

“What was that?” Gareth asks you in excitement, blind to the angry tears in your eyes, “you were fucking fantastic out there tonight!” 

You huff in anger as you rush past all of them, ignoring his words, or Jeff’s or Rob’s as they all call out to you. 

Eddie follows you with his eyes, fear and worry lingering in his eyes.

Chrissy walks towards him with a smile on her face, “hey–”

“Hold on,” Eddie mumbles, not even looking at her, “I’ll be right back,” he says before he runs after you. 

“Eddie!” Chrissy yells in disbelief. 

You slam the door shut and walk further into the room. Breathing heavily, you put your hands on your head. Your bottom lip quivers and your vision blurs, your eyes fall on the couch you kissed Eddie on, just a few hours ago. 

“I’m crazy about you.” 

“There’s no other like you.” 

“I fucking adore you.”

Lies. All lies. 

You felt pain before, you felt heartbreak before but not like this.

You feel the tears welling up in your eyes but you refuse to cry. You scoff in disbelief and shake your head angrily.

“Sweetheart.” 

You freeze at the sound of his voice. You hear him closing the door. You don’t even bother to blink the tears away before you turn around to look at him. His bangs cling to his sweaty forehead, his hands are shaky, his eyes are filled with regret. 

For a moment, neither of you say anything. You just stare at each other. He sees the pain in your eyes, the pain that he has caused. 

He walks towards you slowly, you don’t move, you just blink as you stare at him in confusion and disbelief. 

He stops in front of you, “I can explain.”

You frown at his words, your bottom lip quivers, a fresh wave of tears well up in your eyes as you stare into the eyes that once brought you so much comfort. 

Explain? Is he serious? What is there to explain? 

You don’t even notice that your tears have started to fall. He cups your cheek and wipes them away. 

His touch brings you nothing but pain. 

You push him away from you, “don’t fucking touch me.” 

Hurt flickers in his eyes, “sweetheart–” 

“I’m not your sweetheart!” 

“Please,” he whispers, “don’t do this.” 

“Do what?” you scoff, shaking your head. 

“Don’t push me away,” he whispers. 

His eyes are glassy, filled with nothing but guilt and pain. 

“What the fuck, Eddie?” you mumble as place your palms against his chest, pushing him further away from you and he lets you, he doesn’t fight it, he just closes his eyes as you keep pushing him back until he is pressed against the same door, that he pushed you against when he kissed you, “what the fuck?” 

“You have a fucking girlfriend? What the hell is wrong with you?” 

He blinks, looking away for a moment, he sniffles, bringing his hand up to his face to wipe his tears away. 

“Why are you crying?” you ask angrily, “why are you fucking crying? You lied to me all this fucking time! You lied about your fucking feelings, you lied about the shit you said to me earlier!” 

He shakes his head.

“I never lied to you about the things that I said. I meant them,” he says as he cups your cheeks again, “I meant them.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you whisper, staring at him in confusion.

He shrugs.

"How long have you been with her, huh?"

He looks down, brown eyes flashing with guilt, "two years," he whispers.

You laugh in disbelief, "two years and you haven't mentioned her once."

You know why, you know exactly why he didn't tell you.

“I-I didn’t want to,” he says, “I didn’t think that anything would happen between us, I-I fought the feelings for a long time but I– I couldn’t fight them any longer and I couldn’t, I just couldn’t tell you because I knew you wouldn’t want me anymore if I told you about her."

"How dare you talk about feelings?” you ask, not even feeling the tears anymore, “you fucking used me, you did so from the start!” 

“What? No!” he shakes his head with wide eyes, “I never used you!” 

“Yes, you fucking did! That’s why you never told me about her! That's why the guys never told me! You used me for everything! You used me for the songs, you used me for this fucking band, you knew who I was– who my dad was! You needed me and you needed to make sure that I stayed, that’s why you spent so much fucking time with me, that’s why you made me like you, that’s why you made me fall in love with you!” you scream at him, your voice heavy with emotions, your eyes filled with nothing but disgust and anger for the man in front of you. You don’t even care about hiding your feelings anymore, you don’t care about hiding the pain or the anger. 

Eddie only stares at you with a shocked expression on his face, he blinks and stands frozen in place. 

He knew you liked him, he knew you liked spending time with him, he knew you liked touching and kissing him but he didn’t know that your feelings were as deep as his. 

“Using me for the music wasn't enough, you just had to go even further, huh? Was I her replacement? You needed someone to keep your bed warm?” you cry, throwing your hands up. 

He doesn’t say a word, he just stares at you as tears slip down his cheeks, not knowing that he makes it all even worse with his silence. 

You sniffle, your chest is filled with so much pain and you begin to struggle to breathe. 

How could you let this happen? How could you not see all the clear signs? How were you so blind? 

He talked to her when you were there, Chris. 

“Chris…calm down! Please.. just stop calling her that.” 

“I’m not coming home, don’t you get it?”

You shake your head at the memories. You can’t even look at him and the broken look in his eyes, you turn away from him as a sob falls from your lips. 

His heart shatters at the sound of it. His own tears run down his face, he rushes towards you, hands itching to touch you and comfort you. 

You want to pull yourself together, you want to stop crying, you want to push him away and walk out of the room but you can’t. Right now, you can’t, it all hurts so much. 

You feel his hands on your cheeks again, he tilts your head up, “I never used you, not in any way, you hear me?” 

“Yes, you did,” you whisper angrily, “you all did, I was a big fucking joke to all of you! You needed me for this stupid band, you said so yourself, remember? And while you were at it, you decided to use me too because she wasn’t there!” 

“No!” he pulls you closer, you can feel the shakiness of his hands, you can see how much he’s hurting too, “that’s not true, at all!” Yes it is, no one and nothing can convince you otherwise. 

You close your eyes and shake your head, the stiffness in your body disappears and you melt into his touch, you’re exhausted. Eddie leans down, his lips touch your cheeks, he kisses your tears away, “please, that’s not what happened. I– we never used you. I wanted you right from the start, I wanted you in the band, I wanted you with me,” he mumbles against your skin. 

“Just stop, Eddie,” you whisper even though you want to yell at him and push him away from you. 

He continues to kiss your tears away as you stand there frozen in place. 

“Please, just stop,” your voice breaks and so does his heart. One look into your eyes and he knows, he lost you. 

“I’m done with this,” you say shakily, “I’m done with you.” 

His bottom lip quivers, his face falls and just the sight of him alone is enough to shatter the last piece of your already broken heart. 

“Please.” 

“Stay away from me, Eddie,” you whisper as you take one final look at him before you turn away. 

His shoulders slump as he begins to cry harder, he wants to follow you, he wants to take your hand, he wants to pull you into his arms again but all he can do is watch you leave. 

You grab your jacket and wipe your tears away before you open the door and walk out with fresh tears in your eyes. 

Betrayal and heartbreak is all you feel. His tears, his pleading eyes, his words, his touches didn’t convince you. You don’t believe him, you don’t believe a single word he told you. 

You feel stupid, you feel like a fool for falling for him, for believing him. All this time, he led you on. 

Using you for the music was one thing but using you to fill the hole that she left when she wasn’t there was another. 

You press your lips together to keep yourself from sobbing. Putting the jacket on, you walk away, not bothering to look for the others. You don’t want to see them, you don’t want to see anyone. You don’t want to go on the tour bus, you don’t want to go back into the hotel room that you have shared with Eddie. 

“Y/n!” 

You clench your jaw at the sound of Gareth’s voice. 

“Wait up for me!” 

You halt in your tracks, closing your eyes, you take a deep breath. You turn around and tilt your head as you look at him.

His hair is wet and he changed his clothes, you can smell his aftershave as he stops in front of you. His eyes widen a little, guilt flashes in them, he speaks your name softly. 

“What do you want?” you ask. 

The anger rises up in you again. He pushed you into Eddie’s arms, he did everything to bring the two of you together, all while knowing about his girlfriend. 

“I-I.. shit, I didn’t think this would happen.” 

A look of disbelief settles on your face and you can’t help but laugh at his words despite the burning in your eyes. 

“Well, what did you think would happen, huh?” you ask, not caring about the prying eyes of the staff. 

Gareth sighs, looking down, “I just, Eddie likes you and you like him, I just wanted.. to help.” 

You scoff, shaking your head, “help? You helped real fucking good, Gareth. He had a girlfriend all this time and you what? You thought that it would be fun to convince him to cheat on her with me?” you point to yourself, “the fool that fell in love with that asshole?”

He shakes his head with wide eyes. 

"No, I-I thought he would leave her, I didn't even know that they were still together, you were so close, I thought it was over."

Bullshit.

“What a fucking shit show,” you mumble before you walk away to look for one of the security guards that will get you out of the venue. You don’t want to be around any of them tonight. 

-

Eddie walks out of the room after wiping the tears off that continued to fall after you left.

“There you are,” Chrissy says as she walks towards him after leaving the conversation with Rob. 

He plasters a smile on his face as he looks at his girlfriend. 

“Is everything okay?” she asks, reaching for his hand. 

He nods, “yeah, everything is okay, Chrissy,” he lies. 

She furrows her brows and stares at her boyfriend, “you know, I thought you’d be happier to see me.” 

“I am happy, Chris,” he mumbles, “I’m just tired.” 

A breathy sigh leaves her lips, she stands on her tippy toes and places her hands on his chest as she starts to kiss his neck, “are you really? I missed you,” she purrs as she continues to kiss his neck, “I thought we’d make up for lost time tonight.” 

Eddie closes his eyes, he places his hands on her waist and sighs, not out of pleasure but out of frustration. He can’t do this, he doesn’t want to do this. 

“Come on,” he mumbles, “I just want to go back to the hotel.” 

She gives him one last peck before she pulls away. 

The smile he gives her is so painful and forced, he is surprised that she doesn’t question it. 

“I didn’t know you were planning a surprise.” 

“I uh–” she lets out a quiet laugh, “I’m actually here for Aubrey’s bachelorette party, we’ve been here since monday.” 

“Oh,” he nods. Of course she didn’t come here just for him. 

“How are things back home?” he asks to fill the awkward silence between them.

Her blue eyes flash with something unreadable, she looks away for a moment before she looks back at him with a sheepish smile on her face, “good.. yeah, they’re good.” 

“Do you see Wayne sometimes?” 

She laughs a little as she shakes her head, “where would I see him, Eddie?” 

He frowns at her words, shrugging, “at the store?” he suggests, “family video? I know you love to get your movies there.” 

She looks down, “I never see him around,” she shrugs. 

Leaving the venue was always a lot, fans were waiting outside, hoping for an autograph or a picture or more and usually, everyone would stop to engage with the fans but everything was different tonight. Gareth felt guilty after the conversation with you, giving his fangirls nothing more than a few smiles and hugs before disappearing in the tour bus, Jeff signed a few poster and so did Johnny but Eddie walked straight into the tour bus, trying to shield his girlfriend from the prying eyes and the paparazzis.

Eddie doesn’t mind the fans but he hates the media, the flashing lights, the prying eyes and the questions that are constantly thrown at him and at you. 

As he looked around, he noticed that everyone was there but you. 

“Where’s y/n?”

“She already left,” Rob says with a pointed look on his face, “with one of the security guards.” 

“Oh, okay.” 

-

You felt angry on stage. 

You felt angry when you talked to him. 

You felt angry when you talked to Gareth. 

You felt angry on the way back to the hotel. 

But the moment you stepped into your hotel room and turned the lights on, your eyes fell on the bed that you shared with Eddie earlier, all the anger disappeared and all you felt was agonizing pain in your chest. 

He left his things here, the shirt he wore earlier is still on the bed, his sunglasses are still on the dresser, his leather jacket is draped over the chair. One of his necklaces laying next to yours that you have taken off this morning. 

You close your eyes as you lean your back against the door. 

You are still in disbelief, still in shock. You feel like a zombie as you waltz through the room, throwing your jacket on the chair by the window, you take your boots off and throw them on the floor. You collect some fresh clothes before you make your way to the bathroom to take a shower. 

Usually, you are excited to wash the sweat off from performing all night but tonight, you just want to wash his touch off. As though that could ever be possible. 

His touches, his kisses are burned into your skin for eternity.

You stand there for what feels like forever, your legs almost give out and you have to sit down to keep yourself from falling. You pull your knees up to your chest and let the water fall down on you. 

You sit there until the room is filled with steam and the heat gets too much. 

The tears don’t appear until you stare at yourself in the mirror. 

You brush your hair and stare at the marks that Eddie left on your neck, the tears begin to fall, staining your cheeks once again. 

He touched you and thought of someone else. 

He kissed you and had her on his mind. 

You were nothing but a placeholder. A body to keep his bed warm. 

He was using you while you were falling in love with him like a fool.

You feel sick, you feel like screaming your lungs out, you feel like destroying things, you feel like destroying yourself, you feel like punishing yourself for being so stupid and blind.  

You turn off the lights and leave the bathroom just as a knock on your door echoes through the silent room. 

“Y/n, kid, are you in there?” 

You sigh in relief when you hear Rob’s voice on the other side of the door. 

“Yeah.” 

“Is uh– is everything okay? You need anything?” 

With your eyes closed, you lean against the door. Warm tears slide down your cheeks, your breathing gets heavy and you can feel yourself nearing a breakdown. 

“No, I’m good, I’m just gonna get some sleep now,” you say. 

“Okay. Don’t miss breakfast tomorrow, alright?” 

“I won’t.”

“Good night, kid.” 

“Night.” 

You drag yourself to the bed, throwing Eddie’s shirt on the ground as you lift the covers and crawl inside. The moment your head hits the pillow and you smell him, a sob falls from your lips. You squeeze your eyes shut and pull the blanket up to your chest. 

The pain is unbearable.

You never understood what your dad felt like when he got his heart broken, you could only imagine it. 

Now you understand it. 

Now you understand everything. 

Through the thin hotel room walls, Eddie can hear you crying. He can hear your sobs, he can hear you suffering. Because of him. He wants nothing more than to go over to your room and pull you into his arms, hold you and take away all the pain that he has caused but he can’t.

Another girl is laying in his arms, snuggling into his chest with a sigh. She sleeps soundly in his arms. 

Eddie looks down at her and his heart hurts. She is not the one he wants any longer. He doesn’t want her in his arms, he wants you. 

Your cries make him cry, hot tears run down his skin, staining the pillow he is lying on. He broke your heart and his own too. 

Losing you was something he was always afraid of but he hoped that he could prevent it, he hoped that he could break things off with her before you found out. 

But everything he had built with you fell apart in one night. 

And he knows that there is nothing he can do to change it, there is nothing he can do to fix it. He ruined it all himself. 

Maybe there is a way for you to fall back together but deep down he knows, he lost you. 

-

If there is one useful thing that your mother has taught you in one of the few phone calls you have had with her, it’s to never show how much you’re hurting. 

‘You always gotta look good, even if you don’t feel good. You don’t need others to be all up in your business and see how much you’re suffering. They want to see you suffer, don’t show them.’ 

So you pull yourself together even if you don’t feel like it. 

‘Always make sure your hair looks good, fix your makeup, wear your best clothes, smell good.’ 

You do your hair, you put on makeup, you pick out a good outfit and your favorite shoes, you put your favorite perfume on. 

‘Smile, honey. Don’t show them how miserable you are, you don’t want to give them that satisfaction.’ 

You nod to yourself as you look into the mirror. 

‘And if someone hurts you, make sure to hurt them back. Make them suffer.’ 

Yeah, thanks mom. 

The thought of seeing Eddie makes you feel sick and yet you make your way into the dining area. 

You don’t hear the whispers around you and you don’t feel the eyes on you, focused on something— someone entirely else as you get yourself a coffee before leaving the buffet to look for the others. 

You find them sitting at a round table by the big windows. All of them are there, including Eddie and his girlfriend. You clench your jaw at the sight of them. 

Your heart aches in your chest when you see her moving closer to him, whispering something in his ear as she pushes his hair away. It makes you angry, he makes you angry and she makes you angry too. You want to rip her hands off of him and you want to hurt him. 

Why does he get to be happy after what he did?

“You spend the night by yourself, Gareth?” Rob asks as he sips on his coffee. 

Gareth hums, “yeah, I–”  he pauses to shovel the scrambled eggs into his mouth, “didn’t feel like hooking up with some stranger.” 

Chrissy gives him a disgusted look as he talks with his mouth full, “ew,” she mumbles. 

Gareth gives her sarcastic grin before he stabs his fork into his pancake and takes a bite out of it. 

She rolls her eyes and turns away from him. 

Rob chuckles, “look at you, turning into a whole new man,” he jokes causing Jeff to laugh. 

“Yeah, he is ready to settle down,” Johnny grinnes. 

Gareth swallows, almost choking on his food, he reaches for the orange juice and gulps it down, wiping his mouth with his sleeve to piss off Chrissy, he smirks to himself when she hears her mumbling something under her breath. 

“Settling down isn’t my thing, look at Eddie, he is in a relationship and he’s miserable,” he says as though he is stating a fact as he places his elbows on the table and points to his friend with his fork. 

Eddie’s puffy eyes widen and he looks at his friend in surprise. 

“He is not miserable!” Chrissy gasps in disbelief. 

Jeff clears his throat. 

“He looks pretty miserable to me, Christy.” 

She glares at him as she tries to come up with a response. 

Eddie avoids looking into her eyes, instead he looks at Jeff, who stops chewing as he stares at something behind his shoulder, his eyes widen a little and he suddenly looks nervous. 

Eddie's eyes flash with curiosity. 

Just as he’s about to turn around, he suddenly feels a ringed hand settling on his shoulder and sliding down his back. It’s your hand. His heart flutters and so does his stomach, even with his girlfriend here.

You place your coffee on the table and sit down on the chair next to Eddie’s. Everyone pauses what they’re doing, staring at you with nervous and curious looks on their faces. 

You smile as though nothing ever happened. 

You turn to look at Eddie. You have to restrain a gasp when you see the puffiness and the dark circles under his eyes. He looks just as miserable as you are feeling and the sight alone is almost enough to make you cry again but you keep smiling at him, sliding your hand back up to his shoulder, you lean closer, “good morning, baby.” You kiss the corner of his mouth. Your lips linger for longer than necessary, you watch his eyes widen in shock, a little gasp falling from his lips.

Chrissy stares at you, frozen in place just like her dumbfound boyfriend. 

A shit eating grin appears on Gareth's face.

Johnny stares at you in shock.

Rob smiles into his mug and Jeff almost spits his food out as he looks between you and Eddie and then at Chrissy who stands up suddenly, chair scraping against the floor as she looks at you angrily, “what the fuck?!” She shrieks, “Eddie!” 

Chrissy looks down at him in disbelief as he makes no move to remove your hand or push you away from him or look up at her. His eyes are on you as he sits there frozen in place.

He doesn't move when Chrissy slaps his shoulder, he doesn't move when she says his name again.

Leaving your hand to rest on his shoulder, you take your mug and take a sip as you stare at him with a satisfied smile on your face. 

Two can play that game, Eddie. 

"What's wrong, Chrissy?" you ask with a sweet smile.

She shakes her head, furrowing her brows at your question, "why are you kissing my boyfriend?"

"Do you want a kiss too?" you ask.

She gasps, "I- what?!"

Eddie gapes at you.

Gareth can't even contain his laughter any longer, earning a slap on his shoulder from Jeff.

"Eddie and I share everything, didn't he tell you?"

You move his hair back, running your fingers through it as you lean your chin on his shoulder and he lets you.

Her cheeks are red, her eyes are filled with anger as she looks between you and Eddie. It's amusing to you.

"Eddie?"

He finally tears his eyes away from you and looks up her. His confused stare turns into a guilty one and she easily figures out why he looks so guilty.

"Chris-"

"You asshole!" she cries as she delivers a harsh slap to his cheek before she storms away.

Eddie closes his eyes, clenching his jaw, he deserved that.

The moment she's gone, you move away from Eddie and you lean back in your chair, taking a look around, you smirk to yourself when you see all the shocked faces.

Rob scratches the back of his neck as he glances at you.

Eddie speaks your name softly.

You expected him to get mad at you, to yell at you and ask you why you did that but instead you're met by the sight of his soft eyes as you look back at him and irritates you.

"Don't you want to follow your girlfriend, Eddie?"

Confusion is written all over his face as he shakes his head. His cheek is red from the harsh slap, eyes filled with concern and hurt.

"What was that?" he asks, not understanding why you would touch him and kiss him again after what you said to him last night. A foolish part of him hopes that things can go back to the way they were before yesterday but the coldness in your eyes shows him that things will never be the same again.

"That was me showing your girlfriend what a piece of shit you are, Eddie."

Saying these words hurt you just as much as they hurt him.

He says your name with a shaky voice, like he is on the verge of crying.

You can't do this.

You can't do this.

Looking into his glassy eyes, hearing his shaky voice, seeing how hurt he looks, breaks your heart even more.

You thought you could make yourself believe that you would be fine, that you could pretend that it doesn't hurt but you would be lying to yourself.

You get up and storm out of the room without looking back.

"Y/n!"

He didn't follow her out but he follows you.

You walk through the lobby and back to the elevators, blinking your tears away.

"Wait!"

He grabs your upper arm and pulls you back, placing both of his hands on your arms, he cages you against the nearest wall so you don't escape him again.

"Let me go."

He shakes his head.

You can see the fear and the pain in his eyes, the sadness; as though he wasn't the one that got him into this situation in the first place. Your heart still hurts.

"Please," he whispers, "I know I fucked up, I know what I did was wrong, I should have told you, I should have left her before we-"

"Stop," you sigh, "I don't wanna hear it."

"I'm just, I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt you."

"But you did."

His eyes are filled with tears and yours are too.

"Last night you told me that you have feelings for me-"

"I do," he says, squeezing your arms.

"How long have you known then?"

"For some time now, before we left California."

You nod, sniffling, you look down and close your eyes.

"See, I don't believe a word you're saying, Eddie. If you did have feelings for me, you would have left her- I'm not saying that you should have done that, I don't want to be a fucking home wrecker but a good person would have been honest about their feelings and leave their partner before becoming a fucking cheater," you pause as you take a deep breath and look back into his sad eyes, "you didn't tell her anything, you didn't tell me anything. You don't have feelings for me, you needed me to keep yourself satisfied and now that I know the truth, you do everything to make me believe you because you're scared."

You push him away from you, "you're scared that I'll leave the band because you know, you'd be nothing without me."

"No, please, y/n," he sighs in defeat, "that's not true, I don't even care about that, I care about you, about us."

"There is no us, there never was and there never will be," you say, staring at him through your blurry vision, "I'll stay for the rest of the tour but the moment it's over, the moment we're back in LA, I'm out and I never want to see you again after this, Eddie."

He starts crying and so do you.

"No," he whispers.

The look in his eyes and pain in his voice destroys you, it leaves a hole in your heart.

Your eyes are filled with betrayal and heartbreak.

His eyes are filled with pain, fear and heartbreak too.

Now you are nothing but two broken people.

And this is only the beginning of all the pain that is about to follow.

-

Taglist: @prettyboyeddiemunson @littledemondani @wroteclassicaly @corrodedcorpses @cry-for-u @mysticmunson @eddielives1986 @1paire2vans @poisonedluv @sherrylyn628 @aysheashea @kaitebugg03 @lma1986 @aftermidnightwriting @miarosso @novelnovella @magenta-moon @strawberries-n-lavender @bibieddiesgf @michaelfuckinglangdon @tlclick73 @hazydespair @veravee-blog @lfaewrites @saayanaaa @madaboutjoe @papichulo120627 @emma77645 @joantje @eddiiiieeee @harringtonfan4 @kukisthings @unfocused81 @pwinglez1 @a-dreamy-sagittarius @riddlesinthenight @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint

[snowberrycherry]

Your fic about sucking könig off? EXCUSE ME??? HES SO FUCKING HOT AND BIG AND SHY I WANT TO CORRUPT HIM please could you write something for that? Like a reader who’s a dominant badass and he just wants her to fuck him up?

Up to equal

parings: könig x fem!reader

warnings: smut, hes a virgin, facesitting, edging, unprotected sex, everything is consensual, mdni

[a/n] we r editing this tmr morning and to the angel that requested rhis im so eo soso sorry this took so long lovvve u best frienf💋🐵

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾

He had no idea how he had gotten himself into this .

Over the most pathetic mistake too.

The constant staring had been enough to push you over the edge, so you decided to say something. You had practically dragged him back to your room. As he kept up with your fast pace, he knew what you were going to say. Even he knew it was obvious, blatantly looking at you, only daring to look away when you met his longing gaze. demanding an explanation as to why. how was he going to admit how he truly felt? Not even 24 hours ago, not a full day had passed where he was perfectly fine gazing at you whenever the chance was presented. He was okay with using just his hand to get himself off every once in a while, not minding he hadn't been with anyone. Sometimes he would even imagine it was you whom he was with late at night teaching him everything and anything. Taking his virginity in the best way viable, however you wanted him, König couldn’t care less.

But never in a million years could he have imagined this. The slam of the door shook him back to reality, “Do you have a problem with me?” Your eyes narrowed as he paused, scrambling to find the right words. “No I don’t …can I ask why?” The warmth on his neck worsened with guilt by the second. “Your always fucking staring it me and it’s getting really creepy”.

König looked down at his shoes, ashamed, but something felt different. This was the longest conversation he had ever had with you and it was so dangerously thrilling. He could feel his pants to become tighter, blood rushing right down to his crotch. He awkwardly placed his hands right in front of himself, figuring it wouldn’t be too noticeable yet.

Never was he more wrong, his heart dropped when he heard your next words, “No way”. His eyes shot wide open as you pushed his hands away, revealing his noticeable aching cock. Words weren’t even able to come out as he hastily turned to leave, on the verge of crying from the humiliation. His finger tips just barley grazed the handle, ready to run and hide when you spoke up, “You should stay”.

He froze in place, not even sure if he had heard your correctly. “What?” his voice was weaker than he intended it to be. “Stay.” He spun back around to face you, rather bewildered, “Why?” He watched in dismay as you confidently walked over to him, standing right in front of him. “Because you have the prettiest lips and I want to feel them on me”.

He had never eaten someone out, but he knew he would try his hardest to make you feel good. “Please god yes” he frantically whined. You took his one of his rough hands and led him over to your bed. Cautiously, he laid back and watched incredulity as you peeled off your pants along with your soaked panties, and gradually started to crawl up his body, hovering right over his lips. His breath got stuck in his throat when he finally realized how close you truly were, your pussy so close to his mouth that if he really desired to, he could lean up and finally taste you, something he had fantasized about for so long.

“Be good for me?” you whispered feeling his hot breath all over you as he eagerly waited for you to sit down right on his face. He moaned a shallow ‘yes’ moving his hands towards his dick, impatiently waiting to relieve the tension in his pants. “Good” you plainly said, pressing your cunt right onto his mouth. A noise escaped from him in shock at your sudden movement but quickly came to reality when he cautiously stuck his tongue out to take his first lick. In another universe he was definitely crying with how sweet you tasted, it took every bit of energy to not do so in this dimension. His laps were a bit inexperienced and timid at first, not fully firm enough to emit any sort of pleasure, but he quickly got the memo when you pushed down even further onto his wet mouth. He greedily hummed into you circling messy patterns all over your cunt. He looked up to see your face hazed with lust that told him he was doing a good job. He shook his face faster into you, juices smearing all over his chin, his nose hitting your clit at a delicious speed. He couldn't control his hands anymore as they traveled down to his cock, palming at it so desperately that he started to softly moan. He could tell you were close by your hips grinding faster onto his tongue and the grip you had on his hair, guiding his mouth right at your hole was a definite sign. He had never made someone cum before let alone just with his tongue… he wanted it so bad. Just when he envisioned what you would taste like you pulled your hips away from his impatient face.

He sobbed at the missing sensation,but he could feel his lower stomach muscles tense, seeing bright stars as he reached his climax in pure ecstasy. His cum flowed out, making the fabric a deep blue color. His cheeks went immediately bright red when he fully comprehended what he had done.

He came just by eating pussy and his now stained jeans were authentic proof. He covered his face with his hands, dreading to face the consequences. Was he a virgin? you thought, it was that or he hadn’t been laid in quite some time. “Is this your first time?”. He hummed a swift yes, still strung off of mortification. However, it faded away fast when he felt your body mover off of his upper half, down towards his lower section. He quickly uncovered his eyes and watched as you slid down so your sopping cunt was right on his clothed leaking cock. “Can I?” you asked trailing your fingers over the band of his pants, batting your eyelashes at him so innocently for such a filthy act. And it only turned him on more.

He shook his head up and down once, internally fulfilled that you would be the first person ever to truly ruin him. You smiled practically tearing his pants off along with his underwear revealing his throbbing cock. König watched as your mouth gaped open in shock when you saw how big he was. It only made him more elated. His hips stuttered when your hand came in contact with him gently jerking him up and down. “Aw, you gonna come again?” the fake pout on your lips drove him crazy. No, he promised to himself, but the precum that glistened on his tip refuted his vow. You swiftly straddled his hips lining him up at your dripping entrance, causing him to cry out while gripping at the blankets so tight his knuckles turned white. He felt your hand slap down over his mouth followed by a faint ‘Shh’. Your voice seems deeper, covered in lust and arousal. He let out a shaky groan as you slowly sunk down on him, filling you up to the fullest you had ever been. Biting your lip the pain slowly ebbed into bliss and you began to rock back and forth on him.

He was in paradise. As much as he tried to cry out, your hand muffled the sounds causing you to try not to giggle. “You’ll be quiet?” you lightly questioned . He shook his head again, eyes widened with exhilaration. You removed your hand and his voice trembled, “I promise just keep f-fucking me”. The sinful and dirty saying only edged you on. You grinding faster on him while you watched the man crumble beneath you brought a never-ending satisfaction. “I think I’m going to cum again i’m so sorry” he whined, attempting to thrust into you at a faster speed, touching wherever his hands could reach, memorizing your body at this moment. He was so close to the edge, so close to falling apart underneath you when all movement froze, entirely ceasing, cutting off his source of euphoria. He let out a wail, hot tears streaming down his face, “What?” You leaned forward closer to his face, “Do you think you earned it?” So many thoughts raced through his head, it was a yes or no question but which one? Unsure and hesitant, he decided to answer with what his selfish soul was persuading him to do. “Yes”. he whispered, hoping to his lucky stars he made the correct choice. He watched intently at your facial expression change into a sweet grin.

“Good boy” and you sat back down on him. He moaned at your warm cunt enveloping him once more. His entire body was sensitive, his skin beaded with sweat, eyes puffy and red, but König never felt more alive.

[slashmagpie]

Shhhh.

It’s silliness, really, that makes Tango creep through the hollows in Decked Out’s walls to his mess of shulkers full of in-game items. He keeps his footsteps light, his breathing shallow, picturing himself a ghost as he slinks through the shadows and stone. It’s silly, but he can’t help but think that maybe, if he’s quiet enough, he might be able to—

Steal from the dungeon.

His fingers touch the shulker he needs, and the stone around him groans, deep and resonating through his bones. Tango grits his teeth, freezing. Busted. He’d known, really, but it’s still—

“It’s fine,” he says to the air, tail lashing, not quite opening the box just yet. “It’s a starter deck. If I was a normal player, I’d have had a Moment of Clarity in my deck from the get-go.”

Another grumble of discontent. Tango shivers. He can feel the disapproval crawling beneath his skin, and it takes all his willpower not to drop the shulker like a hot coal. 

“I know,” he says. “I thought I explained this! It’s an experiment, right? I’m seeing—seeing how dungeon knowledge makes up for a, uh, relative lack of skill.” The dungeon’s unhappiness remains where it is, but does not increase, and Tango lets out a shaking breath as he cracks open the lid of the shulker and peers inside just enough to spot and snag one of the cards he needs. He turns it between his fingers, glittering cardboard, the golden foil glittering in the torchlight. 

“I know I’m not a regular player,” Tango reassures the dungeon once again. “We talked about this, didn’t we? I’m not gonna submit Victory Tomes. And I’m starting behind everyone else. I won’t even run as much! I’m just—gonna try it. Think of it like the test runs again, yeah?” 

The discontent surges—then wanes, like a wave rushing back out to sea, and Tango feels like he can breathe again, the pressure on his lungs lessening. He hadn’t realised just how uncomfortable the weight had been until it was gone. Feeling ten tons lighter, Tango grins at the air.

“See? And, hey, if I run the dungeon, you’ll probably get to eat me loads more. You like that, don’t you?” A wry smirk. “I’m basically your favourite meal.”

The dungeon—doesn’t quite laugh, but the groan is quieter, softer, and tickles more than it prickles or aches. It’s not quite approval, and it’s not happy, but—it’s letting him. It’s letting him run, Moment of Clarity and all.

Tango tucks the additional card away inside his inventory and makes to leave the small, cramped storage room that isn’t a storage room and that Pearl would definitely murder him for. He hurries through his actual storage room and up to the water elevator. He should get his runs done before the dungeon changes its mind again. Honestly, sometimes Decked Out is more of a pain than the Ravagers are. 

…He is glad that it had fallen for his excuses, for the experiment and beta testing explanations, because he’s not sure the dungeon would appreciate his actual reasons for running quite as much. It’s quite particular about the place of its Dungeon Master, and what is and isn’t appropriate for Tango to do. It's why Tango spends hours and hours of his day watching people run the dungeon instead of working on all those repairs he’s got mounting on a list in the back of his mind. And why he has to give a mountain of excuses to play the game he’d helped make. Because really, in actuality—

Tango just wants to have a little fun.

Is that too much to ask?

He places a shard in the barrel and watches the doors open. He can feel the dungeon’s eyes on him already, and it’s weird to not be looking through them himself as he takes off his armour and stores his stuff in the chest. He takes a deep breath, tucks the stolen Moment of Clarity into his deck, and makes his way through the iron door.

Decked Out curls beneath his skin, curious and hungry, and as Tango places his deck into the slot, he feels the dungeon purr. 

[fanofstuff01]

Adam fell to his bed with a thud, as if he got shot. His whole body hurt, he wanted to knock himself out so badly. Angel did mention his body was an absolute shitshow in his first day too, but he didn’t expect it to be this bad. He could feel his eyes whimpering.

His mind was nothing better. He couldn’t help but have it fuzzy alI day. It was a goddamn confusing situation. And shocking.

One night, you’re out to get wild with two sinners and two winners, and when you wake up, you’re seeing those pearly gates. Enough to turn someone’s world upside down. It wasn’t in a bad way obviously, just drained his energy.

He groaned and turned to face the ceiling, placing both his hands on his stomach. He hoped he could drift off to sleep easily, he needed it.

As time passed by, his tiredness was defeated by a stronger feeling. That one feeling he tried to keep buried deep inside all day so it wouldn’t mess his “big achievement”

Loneliness.

He didn’t knew how long he’d been staring at it, but suddenly the plain white upper-wall was hurtful to look at. He teared his gaze biting his lip, subconsciously hugging himself with his wings.

He was happy, right? Of course he was. Why wouldn’t he be? This was his biggest goal for years. -And this was Heaven for fuck’s sake! You could have everything!

Everything…

Well why are you feeling hollow then asshole? Don’t act like you don’t know the real reason.

“Shut the fuck up.” His voice echoed in the suddenly emtpy room. “It’s nothing and you know it. Winners can visit Hell, remember that? Angel and Pentious just came from there. And Sera never had problems with them talking to Lucifer! It’ll be fine! I can see him. It’s no big deal. I just… Have to wait a little. Yeah. Yep. It’s probably because I’m new here.” He sat down in his bed.

But no words were enough to shut that shitty voice off. Seriously, why was he worrying about this that much? It was Lucifer! He’d find a way even if he wasn’t allowed. Which… Was sometimes trouble-bringing but still cute.

Cheap excuses, still lying to yourself, Adam. Why didn’t he told you about this happening then? He would if he knew you two would be able to keep in touch.

He shook his head and went for the light switch. He didn’t want an answer to that. No need.

He wanted to shut his conscious off so bad that he almost missed the small letter on his nightstand. It was red with golden accents, clearly a hellmade one. He took it in his hands and began eyeing it with a small curiosity. Then it hit him.

Hellmade.

He gripped it, almost ripping it off as he desperately wanted to reach the letter inside. Dammit this would be much easier if he still had his claws!

When he finally got rid of that goddamn paper, he quickly began reading. Finally some real explanation.

He smiled briefly when he recognized the handwriting.

To my dear Adam,

As I write this, Angel’s standing at my side. He knows this is a love letter but he’s still sneaking peeks. Honestly, I’m still wondering what Husk sees in him.

That said, he did gave me his word that he’d deliver this letter to you. He says he owes me, for the time I took care of that mothman for him.

You must be really, really confused right now. I’m sorry that I didn’t told you about this happening, I was afraid you’d hate me because I knew it for weeks now. Please forgive me. It was just… Hard to let go of the best thing in my life. But I’m not regretting it.

I can’t write much, heck it would cost me lots of pages if I tried to, but I want you to know I’m so glad you made it, little lamb. I bet you look awesome as an angel.

Love you,

Lucifer.

————

Yeaaaahhhh something from the middle of my recent work. Just gonna drop it here since it’s nowhere near done.

Is this good? I hope so.

[queenofbaws]

ooo how about "is everything okay?" "i just need a distraction.." from that midnight calls prompt list with josh n ashley :]

There was no excuse, really. She couldn't say she was 'in the zone,' couldn't say she was trying to get there, couldn't say she was lost in her thoughts, couldn't say she was attempting to find them...she couldn't even say she was asleep, or dozing, or skimming through which of her nine thousand fantasy universes she'd be using instead of counting sheep when bedtime actually did come around. Ashley jumped because jumping was, well, her body's natural reaction to most sudden sounds (and sudden movements, and sudden stops, and sudden realizations, and, and, and...); there wasn't an excuse that applied.

Didn't mean she had to tell Josh that.

She hit the button to answer her phone on speaker, dropping her head into her hands immediately afterwards. "Hello?" she sighed, doing her best to cover the adrenaline-quakes in her voice.

Now, a normal person probably would've noticed anyway. A normal person would've stopped and reconsidered. A normal person would've said something like 'Oh, is this a bad time?' or 'What's up with you?' or maybe even 'Augh, is it too late? Sorry, I didn't even think about that!'

But this wasn't a normal person.

This was Josh.

He blew right past her, full steam ahead.

"I think I figured it out. What ruined the whole thing, I mean. And before you say it, no, it's not even the choice to have the kid do all that rapping. I know that's hard to believe, but stick with me on this one, okay? I've put a lot of thought into it."

There went the spike of fear, deflated like a discount grocery store balloon. If there was any benefit of being in Josh's quote-unquote inner circle, she had to figure it was that; he could use his crappy Psych 101 powers for good sometimes (when he deigned to), finding the precise spot to apply pressure until you forgot all the stuff that was bothering you and you were left so flummoxed that your brain chemicals miraculously balanced out.

Still, that...didn't mean she had the first idea what he was talking about.

Blinking hard, she checked the time and pinched herself for good measure, ruling out all the obvious explanations. But no, no, she was awake and it wasn't even that late, so Josh's word salad was sort of just that - word salad. She ran through the greeting again, scanning it with the searching eye of a reading comprehension test expert, aaaaaaand...nothing. Narrowing her eyes, she stared down at her phone, watching the seconds tick, tick, tick away between them.

"...what?"

"I figured. It. Out," he repeated, proving once and for all that nope, nuh-uh, no explanation was forthcoming. He was leaving her high and dry, trusting that - sooner or later - experience or context or straight-up telepathy would bridge the gap between them. "It isn't the diaper to the face either. Again, not a choice I would've made, but it's not the heart of the issue, know what I mean?"

Gap? Had she said it was a gap between them? Screw that - this was the Grand Freaking Canyon.

"Josh," she sighed, pressing her fingers hard to the ridge of her eyebrows as if it would help organize her thoughts. "I have...no idea what you're talking about. Is this some weird new crank call you're trying out? Because I have to be honest, it's, like, not...good."

The nerve of him, he sighed back at her from the other end of the line, acting like she'd been the one to call him in the middle of the night. "You know what I'm talking about."

"I don't!"

"You do! The Visit!"

"The...what?" At that, she took him off of speaker, pressing the phone to her ear. Why she did it, she couldn't say, but hearing his voice concentrated down like that had to help something, didn't it? "What visit? We haven't gone anywhere!"

"No, The Visit. Remember?"

Her eyes rolled to the ceiling. "I don't."

"Sure you do. The grandparents were dead all along?"

"I - what?"

"And then the kid rapped."

Squinting, she stared at her ceiling fan, her mouth tracing words her voicebox was too confused to push out, and - then it hit her. Ashley rocked forward where she sat, her body going slack as the connection was finally - FINALLY - made. "Oh my God...that movie?! That awful movie we watched?!"

"Uh, yeah, duh."

"Josh, that - " Shaking her head, she glanced towards her planner, feeling her confusion bubble right back up again. " - that was three weeks ago! Why are you still thinking about this?!"

"What can I say, it stuck in my craw."

"It stuck in your - " But before she could finish the thought, before she could tease him too badly for being weird or obsessive or weirdly obsessive, her eye caught something else.

The date.

And there it was, the experience, the context, the straight-up telepathy. In that instant, it all made sense.

How was it February already? How hadn't she noticed? How -

There wasn't any quiver to her voice that time. Honestly, she wasn't sure it had ever sounded as calm and even as it did then, her weight on her elbows and her eyes slowly shutting to block out tomorrow's date. (Today's, really, if you wanted to be pedantic, but, whatever.) "Okay, if it wasn't the rapping or the diaper thing or the grandparents, then, like, what's the problem?"

"The squandered potential. That's what it all comes down to: That twist could've knocked my fucking socks off, but it didn't, and you know why? Every. Single. Fucking. Plot beat. Was making it clear that a twist was waiting to happen. It was hardly even a surprise at the end! Could you imagine if the whole thing had been played straight right up until that revelation? Bam. Instant classic. Instead, we got, like, what, ninety minutes of winking and elbow-nudging like 'Aw shit, I bet a twist is coming any second now...' Ruined the whole fucking thing."

Another side-effect of being in Josh's quote-unquote inner circle: Sometimes the Psych 101 bullcrap rubbed off on you. Because of that, Ashley thought she could hear their real conversation, the true one, happening loud and clear, lost somewhere between the lines - "You doing okay?" "Nah, not really." "Want to talk about it?" "Nah, not really." "Is this about - " "You know what it's about." "What can I do?" "Help me not think about it. Just for a second. Just for a minute. Help me, help me, help me."

She could do that.

Ashley leaned forward until she rested with her arms on her desk and and head in her arms, the phone still tucked safely between her ear and shoulder. "How would you fix it then, Mr. Genius? Obviously you have some ideas."

"How would I fix it? How would I fix it? Ohoho, Ash, I don't think you know what sort of can of worms you just popped open...how much time you got?"

"For you?" she asked, closing her eyes again as she settled into the sound of his voice, pretending they both weren't fully aware tonight was the anniversary of the twins going missing. "All the time it takes, I guess."

[ichorai]

blueberries ; one.

pairing ; joey tribbiani x gn!reader chapter synopsis ; the one with runaway brides, pregnant wives, and homewreckers. wc ; 8.5k warnings / includes ; talks of sex/suggestive content, mild cursing, mentions of cheating, reader is a physicist and also bisexual, literally everyone in the group is fruity other than ross lol

series masterlist. main masterlist.

The pretty waitress strode towards you with a sweet smile, your warm cup of tea balanced on one hand, and Joey’s slice of double fudge cake in the other. She dropped it by the table and you noticed a small piece of folded paper by the edge of your cup. 

Once she was gone, you picked up the paper and unfurled it, a smile growing across your lips.

“Whatcha got there?” Chandler asked, peering over your shoulder. 

“I think it’s the waitress’ number,” you replied, folding it back and pocketing it safely within your jeans. “She’s real pretty.”

Joey, already halfway through with his cake, teasingly spoke around a full mouth, “Too bad you never leave the house other than to hang with us. I can take that number off of you if you never end up using it.”

You shot him a half-hearted scowl, but remained quiet.

Just then, Monica and Phoebe strolled into the cafe, taking a seat on the large sofa beside you and Chandler. 

“There’s nothing to say, really,” the dark-haired woman told Phoebe in a defensive tone. “He’s just some guy I work with.”

“What’re you guys talking about?” Joey asked, having fully inhaled his cake in a matter of minutes. 

“Monica’s going out with someone,” you replied, wrinkling your nose in amusement and curling your legs up beneath you. You drank a sip of your tea as an excuse to hide away from her withering glare. “Isn’t that right, Monica?”

A roguish grin stretched across Joey’s features. “Come on. What’s the catch? You’re going out with a guy—there’s gotta be somethin’ wrong with him.”

“Does he eat chalk?” Phoebe queried, placing a comforting hand on Monica’s shoulder. “I don’t want you to go through what I went through with Carl, you know?”

The five of you grimaced at the memory of Carl.

“It’s not even a date!” said Monica, brushing her dark hair away from her face. “It’s just two people going out to dinner—and not having sex.”

Chandler scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sounds like all the dates I’ve had.”

It was then that Ross came into the cafe, drenched from foot to toe. You glanced behind you to the window, surprised to see that it had started to rain without you realizing. It looked like your long-time friend was crying, but you couldn’t really tell if it was rainwater or tears that were on his face.

“Hi,” he mumbled, morose. 

You arched a brow. “You okay, Ross?”

He shook his head, squeezing between you and Chandler on the sofa. The two of you grimaced when his sodden clothes dripped all over you, and Chandler rolled his eyes before getting up and sinking into another chair. 

“Feels like someone reached down my throat, ripped out my small intestine, pulled it out of my mouth, and tied it around my neck.”

“Cookie?” Chandler offered. Ross ignored him.

Monica sighed. “Carol moved her stuff out today,” she offered as an explanation, knowing Ross would take well over an hour of moping to finally get to the point. “Let me go grab you some coffee.”

As his sister left, Ross crossed his arms, swatting Phoebe away when she tried to cleanse his aura, as she often did. “I’ll be fine—really, I will. I hope she’ll be very happy.”

“No, you don’t, Ross,” you quipped.

“No, I don’t! To hell with her, she left me!”

Joey snorted. “And you never knew she was a lesbian?”

“I knew—” you said pointedly. “Ross just never listened to me.”

“I didn’t think you were being serious!” he exclaimed. “I don’t know, sometimes you joke about things being gay and stuff so I just thought it was a joke I wasn’t in on. Because, you know, I’m not—”

Lightly punching him in the shoulder, you gave him a stern look. “I know you’re not gay, Ross. Why would I joke about your wife being gay?”

“I mean, you did say she was really hot once,” Phoebe chimed, much to your dismay. At your soured expression, the blonde spoke up again, “What? I think she’s hot, too!”

Ross buried his face into his hands, groaning loudly. “Why does everyone keep fixating on the fact that she’s a lesbian? She didn’t know—how would I have known?”

“Didn’t she tell you that she just kinda found dicks gross at one point?” Chandler asked, lounging in an awkward position on the chair. Ross grumbled quietly under his breath, clearly not wanting to continue the conversation of his wife being gay. “Sometimes I wish I was a lesbian. Being bisexual is exhausting—do I want a man to sweep me off my feet or do I want a woman to sweep me off my feet? I’ll never know.”

Monica came back with the cup of coffee, handing it to Ross before turning to you excitedly. “Hey, Y/N. The waitress was asking about you.”

“Oh, yeah? What did she say?”

“She wanted to know if you were single or not.”

With bated breath, you snuck a glance to the counter, watching the pretty waitress take another customer’s order.

“And?”

“I told her you were single,” Monica replied. “Unless there’s something you’re not telling us…?”

“I’m single,” you reassured them. Ross made a strange noise that sounded like Chewbaca choking on a stick at the reminder of being single. “Ross, listen. It’s not your fault that your wife is queer—despite me telling you multiple times that she was—so let’s look at the bright side here. She’s not leaving you because of you. It’s the literal definition of it’s not you, it’s me.”

With a frown, Ross pried his fingers away from his still-damp face. “Yeah, I guess…”

Joey clapped his hands together, bringing everyone’s attention to him. “Alright, Ross, look. You’re feelin’ a lot of pain right now. You’re hurting. Can I tell you what the answer is?”

Ross nodded, apprehensive.

“Strip joints!”

The rest of you groaned. 

Joey shrugged, genuinely confused as to why it wouldn’t be a good idea. “Come on, you’re single now! Gotta release those hormones somehow.”

“See, I don’t want to be single!” Ross exclaimed in exasperation. “I just wanna be married again.”

As if on cue, a woman ran into the cafe, wearing a rather large white wedding dress. She was soaked and breathless, and her dripping brown hair was a mess, and the white fabric was streaked with dirt and mud and city street gunk.

All of you blinked in surprise. 

Chandler gestured to the door in a pleading manner. “And I just want a million dollars!”

“A million dollars really isn’t all that much—ask for a hundred million,” you told him. 

“A billion dollars!” he shouted.

“That’s too much. Nobody should have a billion dollars.”

“A trillion dollars!” he yelled again, ignoring you completely.

You rolled your eyes, before turning your gaze back to the lost woman in a wedding dress.

Concerned, Monica stood up, expression twisted into one of part-disbelief and part-recognition. 

“Rachel?” she asked as she approached the woman. 

“Oh, my God, Monica, thank goodness!” She threw her arms around a stricken Monica, the white fabrics of her wedding dress just about slapping her in the face. She spoke quickly, voice crackling with emotion. “I went to your apartment and some guy with a big hammer said you might be here, and you are! Gosh, I’m just so happy to see you!”

The rest of the group watched the two of them with evident confusion, and Monica led Rachel to the couch. “Oh, everybody, this is Rachel, another Lincoln High survivor. Rachel, this is everybody—that’s Chandler, Phoebe, Joey, Y/N… you remember my brother Ross, don’t you?”

“Sure!” Rachel smiled brightly, strangely cheerful for someone in a ruined, soaking wedding dress.

To make space for her and her rather spacious dress, you got up from the large couch and moved to Joey, bumping his hip playfully to get him to scooch aside on his chair so you could sit beside him. The two of you fought over space for a bit before he relented, grabbing your legs and swinging them over his thighs. You sent him a smug grin as you leaned back comfortably and Joey only stuck his tongue out at you childishly.

“So, uh, are you going to tell us now or are we waiting for four wet bridesmaids, too?” Monica queried. 

“Wouldn’t be so bad, huh?” Joey whispered into your ear, and you jabbed an elbow into his side to shut him up.

“Oh, God,” Rachel started, gesturing emphatically with her hands. It didn’t slip your notice when Ross sat up straight, watching the new woman with wide eyes. “It started about half an hour before the wedding. I was in this room where we were keeping all these presents and I was looking at this gravy boat! This really gorgeous Limoges gravy boat, you see. Which led me to realize that… I was more turned on looking at this gravy boat than by Barry! And I got really freaked out, because how could I get married to someone I think is less attractive than a gravy boat? And I just kinda stare at him and I realize that he looks just like Mr. Potato Head. You know, I always thought he looked familiar but…” she trailed off, looking ready to burst into tears. “Anyway, I just had to get out of there—and I didn’t know anywhere else to go. I know you and I have drifted apart but you’re the only person I know who lived in the city.”

Pursing her lips, Monica eyed Rachel quizzically. “... Who wasn’t invited to the wedding.”

Rachel grimaced. “I was kinda hoping that wouldn’t be an issue.”

You stepped into Monica’s apartment, waving hello to the group of friends gathered on her couch.

“Hey guys,” you greeted, plopping down next to Rachel, still in her wedding dress. “Sorry I had to duck out at the cafe—work called. What’d I miss?”

“Rachel’s staying at Monica’s place now,” replied Phoebe. “I sang her a song to cheer her up!”

From behind the sofa, Joey curled an arm around you, and his other went over Rachel’s shoulders. “Hey, Rach, if you ever need a place to stay—Chandler and I live right across the hall. And Chandler’s away a lot.”

“Can you stop hitting on her?” you hissed, swatting his hand away. “God, Joey, it’s her wedding day!”

“Hey, don’t be jealous. I offered you the same when I first met you!” 

“Jo, honey, I had my own apartment then, and I still have my own apartment now.”

The man shrugged, pressing a quick, chaste kiss to the side of your head. “The offer still stands, sweetheart.”

Rachel raised her eyebrows, gesturing between the two of you. “So are you two… like…?”

“Oh, no!” you exclaimed, slapping a hand over Joey’s mouth to make sure he didn’t say something stupid. “He’s just flirty with everyone.”

Joey’s tongue darted out to lick across your palm and you quickly retracted your hand with an exclamation of disgust, wiping it over his jacket before shoving him. “You’re so gross.”

He trotted away to Chandler in the kitchen before you could hit him again, grinning like a fool.

Just then, the doorbell rang. Chandler peered through the peeping hole, and gasped in an overexaggerated manner.

“It’s Paul the wine guy!”

Phoebe tilted her head. “Monica, is your ‘guy from work’ date Paul the wine guy?”

With a smile, Ross placed a hand on his sister’s arm. “Oh my God, he finally asked you out on a date?”

“Y-Yeah, I was supposed to go out with him for lunch but…” Monica looked at Rachel on the sofa. “Rach, wait, I can cancel!”

“Oh, please, no, you should go, Monica! I’ll be fine!” the brunette assured her. 

“Do you want me to stay, Ross? Will you be okay?” 

Ross looked torn, but you sent him a nasty glare that clearly meant—stop being a whiny bitch baby and let your sister go. He straightened himself, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Yes, of course. You should go.”

Monica skipped to the door with a bright smile, slowly opening it to reveal Paul on the other side with—what do you know, a wine bottle. You pressed a fist to your lips to hide your laugh with a cough.

The man was quite the looker, and you had to roll your eyes to the ceiling when Phoebe started giggling with Monica like schoolgirls. As Monica said her goodbyes and strode out the door with Paul, Rachel and Ross had moved to the kitchen, where he began asking Rachel what her plans were for the night.

“Well, if you’re feeling lonely, you can always come to my place—Chandler and Joey are helping me put together some new furniture.”

Chandler held up a sloshing glass of orange juice he fished from the fridge. “It’s gonna be a blast! I just can’t wait to hit nails with a hammer like a real man!” he said, practically dripping with sarcasm.

“Oh,” said Rachel as she got up. “I’m flattered, really, but I think I just want to unwind here for tonight. It’s been a long day.” She excused herself, heading to the bathroom. 

Though Ross looked a little dejected, Joey and Chandler shrugged it off easily. “Hey, Phoebe, you wanna help out?”

The blonde pursed her lips in thought. “Mm, I wish I could, but I don’t want to.” 

You snorted in amusement, slinging an arm around her.

“What about you, Y/N?” asked Ross. “Could really use the company right now.”

“Oh, sorry, Ross, I can’t,” you winced. “I’ve got to run some calculations for work before tomorrow. I’ve got a presentation first thing on Monday. But call me if you need help, okay?” 

Apologetically, you leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“Bye, guys. Tell Rachel it was nice meeting her for me, will you? I should get going now.”

“What, and I don’t get a goodbye kiss?” Joey asked, stretching his arms out with an exaggerated pout. 

With a huff, you reluctantly gave him a hug, before swiftly pecking his cheek. “See you guys later, alright? You want a kiss too, Chandler?” 

“Would be nice,” he replied, scuffing the floor with the heel of his shoe. “I’m touch starved.”

“We know,” the four of you replied in tandem, before bursting into laughter.

You leaned over to kiss Chandler’s cheek too, and then Phoebe’s for good measure, before waving one last time and sliding out the door.

It wasn’t even two hours later when you got a call, with Ross yelling something about how he couldn’t feel his legs and how his life was crumbling apart because Chandler hammered a screw into his bookshelf instead of a nail. Joey was in the background moaning about how hungry he was, and Chandler was screaming at Ross to calm down, which obviously made Ross even more upset.

So there you were, standing outside of Ross’ door with two boxes of pizza and sleepy eyes. You passed out on top of your work an hour through, the ringing from Ross’ call being what shocked you awake. 

As soon as the door swung open, Ross immediately enveloped you in a hug, speaking so quickly that it all went in one ear and out the other. Something about his lesbian wife, you supposed. You patted his back lethargically. 

Joey came forward to take the pizzas off of you, somehow already managing to stuff half a slice into his face with one bite. “You’re a lifesaver, Y/N. I could kiss you right now.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Please don’t.”

Littered around Ross’ relatively empty apartment was a bunch of loose piles of wood and metal poles and silver nails and screws haphazardly strewn all over the floor. 

“You guys are a mess.”

For the rest of the time, the three men ate as they watched you tiredly read over the manuals, before slowly but accurately assembling together the furniture. They all clapped once you finally put together the bookshelf—amazed at the fact that it didn’t topple to the ground as soon as you put one book on top, as it did when they tried. 

“You’re good with your hands,” Joey commented slyly. “Wonder what else they’re good at.”

“I’ve been told I’m good at punching people,” you replied dryly, sitting on a single stool and leaning against Joey for support, seeing as Ross didn’t have a couch anymore. You closed your eyes sleepily, and he placed an arm around you. Quietly, you mumbled out, “If I fall asleep, just tell Ross it’s not because I hate him, okay? I have a feeling just about anything would set him off tonight.”

“What if there’s only one person for everybody, you know?” Ross blubbered to Chandler from across the room, proving your point exactly. “What if you just get one chance—and that’s it?”

Pulling a sour expression, Joey cocked his head as he said, “What the hell are you talking about, Ross? One person? That’s so… limiting. It’s like saying there’s only one ice cream flavor you like. Let me tell you something, Ross, there’s tons of ice cream flavors out there. There’s rocky road, and cookie dough, and Bing cherry vanilla! You can get ‘em with jimmies, or nuts, or whipped cream, if you know what I’m saying.” He winked down at you and you pinched his side. “Personally, I think I’m a mint chocolate chip. Chandler—you’re a raspberry sorbet. Y/N, I think you’d be somethin’ like blueberry cheesecake. And Ross… you’re a… vanilla. With nuts, if we’re going wild with it.”

Mildly offended that Joey called him vanilla, Ross opened his mouth to retort something, but Chandler beat him to it.

“You think I’m raspberry sorbet?”

Joey waved the both of them away. “Anyways, the point is, this is the best thing that’s ever happened to you! You got married when you were like, what? Eight? Welcome back to the world—grab a spoon!”

“Though, your options are a bit more limited seeing as you’re the only straight one in this room,” you chimed, lifting your head from Joey’s side with a sleepy grin. Ross shot you a dirty look. 

“Honestly, I don’t know if I’m horny or hungry.”

“Ugh, you’re gross,” you complained, letting your eyes slip back shut. 

Groaning in disgust, Chandler backed away. “Stay out of my freezer.”

 Ross sighed heavily, sliding down the wall and slumping against it as if he were a ragdoll. There was a beer can in his hand, one that he claimed was Carol’s favorite drink, and he took a long swig. 

“Grab a spoon, pfft,” Ross mocked. “Do you know how long it’s been since I grabbed a spoon? You know, even if I could get it together to ask a woman out, who’d I ask?”

Exhaling softly, you moved away from Joey (much to his dismay, he was just getting warm with you cozying up to his side), and sat down beside Ross.

“Hey, dude,” you said, nudging his arm. “It’s okay if you haven’t grabbed a spoon in a while. Grabbing spoons as quickly as you can won’t instantly make things better. Things like this take time—you don’t have to rush into anything. Whatever happens, happens man. You’ll be okay. I mean, it’s not like either of you did anything wrong. It’s just life, you know?”

Tears pricked the corners of Ross’ eyes. He ducked his head so you wouldn’t see, but you knew they were there nonetheless.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he mumbled, sniffling. Pursing your lips, you roped him into an embrace.

“Well, isn’t that nice?” Chandler said, biting down on a slice of pizza. He turned to Joey again with a furrowed brow. “Now back to the things that are actually important. Why on earth do you think I’m raspberry sorbet?”

The next morning, you found yourself having breakfast at Monica’s place, sitting between Chandler and Joey, who had just dumped the coffee Rachel made for them into your cup of tea while her back was turned. 

You kicked both of them underneath the table, but smiled sweetly when Rachel came back, surprised at how quickly the two boys had downed their coffee.

“Would you like some?” Rachel asked. “It’s my first time making it!”

“No!” you blurted out, embarrassingly quick. “Sorry, I’m just—trying to cut back on caffeine.”

“Suit yourself,” she replied, before leaning back against the sink. “I do have a question for you guys though—do you, uhm… all have jobs?”

Monica cocked her head, biting into her buttered toast. “Yeah, we all have jobs. See, that’s how we buy things.”

“Ugh, capitalism,” you muttered under your breath, taking a sip of your mug before realizing that it was full of the bitter coffee that Rachel made, and tried to discreetly spit it back out. Joey noticed however, and patted your back sympathetically.

“You and your fancy words, Y/N,” he said, as if you were just making the word up.

Rachel pulled the dark bathrobe tighter around her figure. “What do all of you do?”

“Well, you know I’m a chef,” said Monica. “Y/N is a physicist, Joey is an actor, and Chandler… uhm… Chandler plays with numbers and data and all that.”

“Wow! Would I have seen you in anything?” she asked Joey.

“Eh, mostly regional work—”

“He was in that Wee One’s production of Pinocchio,” you put in, earning yourself a pinch to the thigh. You grinned at him cheekily.

Chandler barked out a laugh, mimicking the line of, “Look Geppeto, I’m a real live boy!”

“I’m not taking this abuse,” said Joey, standing up to head to the door.

The two of you apologized quietly, before Chandler abruptly stood up and pranced out the door singing, “Once I was a wooden boy, a little wooden boy!”

Joey followed him back to their apartment, yelling out obscenities along the way.

You rolled your eyes. “Love to talk more, ladies, but I’ve gotta head to work.”

“What exactly do you do, though?” Rachel asked. It wasn’t often that you saw someone genuinely curious about your work, other than Ross. 

“I specialize in quantum physics—I do quite a bit of research for my field, and propose theories, and sometimes I lecture students working on their doctorate degrees. In fact, that was how I met Ross—we were both teaching at the same university for a couple months and became friends, and through him, I met the rest of the group.”

Rachel blinked at you with amazement. “That sounds amazing! Do you know how I could get one of those?”

“Er… what?”

“You know. A job. Like the rest of you have.”

Sending Monica a confused glance, you said, “Rachel, have you never had a job before?”

“Well,” she taps her finger against her lips, “I’ve babysat for cash before. Does that count?”

“Oh, honey,” simpered Monica from beside Rachel. “Good luck finding one. I’m sure there’s plenty of restaurants or cafes looking to hire a waitress.”

The memory of the waitress from yesterday flashed into your mind—with her pretty eyes and sweet smile… 

You shook your head, before checking the time. You blanched upon seeing that you were nearly late for your presentation. “Gosh, I gotta run. See you guys later!”

That night, the entire friend group sat around Rachel as she hovered over all the credit cards she had that were paid by her father.

“Come on, give her a break. It’s hard to live on your own for the first time,” Phoebe said.

Rachel frowned at the nice words, as if she was going to cry. “Oh, thank you, Pheebs.”

“Yeah, I remember I was fourteen and my mom had just killed herself and my stepdad was in prison! I didn’t know anybody, so I ended up living with this albino guy who was cleaning windshields outside Port Authority. And then, heh, what do you know, he killed himself, too. Then I found aromatherapy! So believe me, I know exactly how you feel.” The blonde smiled sweetly, and you couldn’t help but give her a one-armed hug from the side.

“Here,” Monica said, handing Rachel a pair of large orange scissors. “Just cut ‘em. You’ll feel so much better afterwards.”

The group began chanting ‘cut, cut, cut!’ as if it were some sort of cult ritual. Finally, Rachel straightened herself and cut through each of the cards, lips puckered in a pout.

“Welcome to the real world,” said Chandler.

“It sucks,” you chimed.

“You’re gonna love it!” exclaimed Monica.

The waitress was staring at you again. You could feel her eyes practically boring holes into the back of your neck. Apprehensively, you turned ever so slightly to meet her gaze, but she quickly pretended to be busy with wiping down the counters.

Joey snapped his fingers in front of your face, bringing your attention back to him.

“Are you even listening?” he asked. 

“No,” you replied easily, which made him snort out a laugh.

Monica gestured wildly as she explained again to the confused men. “It’s just, for us, kissing is as important as any part of it.”

“Yeah, right,” Joey scoffed. Once he realized that the three women were dead serious, he furrowed his brows. “Wait, you’re not pulling my leg?”

Nodding emphatically, Rachel said, “Everything you need to know is in that first kiss!”

With a shrug, Chandler put forth, “Yeah, I think for us, kissing is more like an opening act. It’s like the stand-up comedian you have to sit through before Pink Floyd comes out.”

Ross murmured his agreement rather sheepishly. “Right, and it’s not like we don’t like the comedian, it’s just that… that’s not why we bought the ticket.” 

“What about you, Y/N?” asked Phoebe. “Do you prefer the comedian or… Pink Floyd?”

With a hum, you traced the rim of your teacup with your pointer finger before sighing. “I don’t really have a concrete answer for that, honestly. Both the comedian and the actual show are great, but—sometimes I don’t even want the comedian at all, and sometimes I don’t want the show at all. It depends on the person and the situation.” A bit quieter, you tacked on, “Sometimes the longer the comedian drags on, the better the show’ll be after. And sometimes the comedian and the show perform at the same time—you guys gotta think outside the box, here.”

The rest of the group blinked at you owlishly. 

With a smile, Rachel whooped. “Y/N, you little devil! I didn’t know you were into foreplay! But you know what, you’re right. Maybe the comedian should never leave the stage!”

Heat flushed your cheeks at Rachel’s loud words. You wondered if the waitress could hear your conversation. “Woah, I never said that—”

“I’m confused,” Joey interjected. “Are we still talking about sex?”

You watched in amusement as Chandler and Joey began digging into Monica’s lasagne in search of Rachel’s lost wedding ring. A bit of sauce smeared over Joey’s cheek and you reached over to wipe it away with your thumb, muttering out how ridiculous they looked nearly elbow-deep in cheese and pasta.

There was a knock at the door, and when Monica swung it open, you were greeted with a forlorn Ross. Honestly, when wasn’t he forlorn these days?

“Hi,” he said, looking like he wanted a hole to open up in the ground and swallow him whole.

“Why the long face?” you asked, moving away from the pair rifling through the lasagna to the Geller siblings by the door. 

Ross’ voice cracked a little as he replied, “Carol’s pregnant.”

“I found it!” Phoebe exclaimed from behind you, which was funny because she didn’t have any lasagna on her hands while the other two boys held handfuls of the pasta. She held the ring up, covered in marinara sauce and small chunks of beef, holding it out to Rachel.

Monica’s face dropped in shock. “Wh-Wha—? Wh… What?” 

“Yeah. Do that for another two hours, and you might be where I am right now,” Ross said, walking into the apartment. 

Placing a hand on his shoulder, you led him to the couch for him to take a seat. “How do you fit into this whole thing?”

“Carol says she and Susan want me to be involved, but if I’m not comfortable with it—then I don’t have to be. Basically, it’s totally up to me.”

Phoebe called out from the sink as she washed her hands, “She’s so great! I miss her.”

They half-heartedly glared at her, but you stifled a laugh. 

“What does she mean by involved?” asked Monica.

“Presumably, the biggest part of your job is done!” Chandler added, which earned him a light punch to the shoulder.

Scratching his head, Ross loosened his tie, feeling like he was being suffocated. “They want me to go down to this sonogram thing with them tomorrow. I have no idea if I’m going or not. No matter what I do, though… I’m still going to be a father.”

Clattering from the kitchen made the group turn their heads to see Joey practically attacking the lasagna with a spoon that was far too big, shoveling the pasta into his mouth. At the incredulous stares, Joey flinched defensively. “What? This is still ruined, right?”

Ross stood beside the television as he showed everybody the sonogram of the baby, a smile etched permanently across his face. “Isn’t that just amazing?”

You were just about to chime in about how big they already look, but Joey beat you to it by asking, “What the hell am I supposed to be looking at? Is that its foot or its head?”

“If you tilt your head to the left and relax your eyes, it kinda looks like an old potato,” Phoebe said as she squinted in concentration at the screen.

Ross eyed her warily. “Then don’t do that.”

From beside you, Monica started tearing up, and you could hear her little sniffles. Man, do the Gellers cry a lot. You wrapped an arm around her waist and she leaned her head onto your shoulder as the two of you watched the sonogram. 

“How’d your date go, Pheebs?” you asked the blonde as she walked into Central Perk. 

She made a noise of discontent, tugging her light blue coat off. “Not so good. He walked me to the subway and said, ‘we should do this again’.”

The rest of the group grimaced, saved for Rachel, who appeared confused.

“What? He said they should do it again—isn’t that good?”

“Uh, no,” Monica interjected, raising a finger. “Loosely translated, ‘we should do this again’ means ‘you will never see me naked’!”

Rachel reared back. “Since when?” 

“Since always!” said Joey. “It’s, like, dating language. How ‘it’s not you’ always means ‘it is you’.”

Chandler nodded. “Or ‘you’re such a nice guy’ means ‘I’m going to be dating leather-wearing alcoholics and complaining about them to you’! Not speaking from personal experience or anything.”

“Or how ‘I think we should see other people’ means ‘hah! I already am!’” Phoebe added.

“And everybody just knows this? Y/N, you’re the smart one. Is this true?”

You shrugged a shoulder. “Well, I’d say it’s less about the phrase itself and more about how people use it nowadays. Nobody says ‘you’re such a nice guy’ without some sort of intention of friendzoning them, right?” 

Rachel still appeared miffed, so Joey piped up, “Yeah, it cushions the blow.”

“Like when you’re a kid and your parents put your old dog to sleep and they tell you it went off to live on some farm,” Chandler explained.

From opposite you, Ross’ eyes lit up. “That’s funny, because our parents actually did send our dog off to live on a farm!”

The rest of the group stared at him. 

“Uh, Ross—?” Monica started.

“Hello? The Milner’s farm in Connecticut? You don’t remember that? The Milners, they had this unbelievable farm and they had horses and rabbits that he could chase and…” The words died on his tongue as it slowly began to dawn upon him. “Oh, my God, Chi-Chi!”

The couch sank beneath your weight as you sat down, Joey’s script in hand.

“How could you do this to me, Tom? I thought we were best friends,” you read off the paper, trying your best not to laugh at Joey’s concentrated expression.

Joey was walking around with his hands perched on his hips, uttering the next line, “I was never only your friend. I loved you.”

The two of you looked at each other for a moment, before you allowed a smile to break through.

“That was great, Jo!”

“Yeah?” He cuffed you on the shoulder with a genuine grin. “Let’s keep going.”

It was then that Chandler walked out from his room, waving hello to you. “What’re you two doing?”

“Practicing,” Joey replied. “Got a big audition coming up.”

Clearing your throat, you read the next line, standing up so you’d be able to face Joey. “What do you expect me to say, Tom?”

Joey shook his head, shoulders slumping. You couldn’t help but be impressed at how quickly he could fall into character. “Tell me you love me back.”

“I…” You stared at him, watching the way his gaze would dart from your eyes to your lips, and back up again. Man, he was a great actor. “I can’t tell you that.”

He sighed, resigned. “Then I’m going out for a smoke.”

Brandishing a cigarette from his pocket, he used a lighter to set off the end, before inhaling sharply. Not a second later, he was coughing with a grimace plastered across his face. “Damn it! How am I ever going to get the part if I don’t know how to smoke properly? This tastes awful.”

“Relax your hand,” Chandler chimed, sitting down on the couch. “Let your wrist go. No, wait, not so much. Alright, good. Now try taking a puff.”

Inhaling softly this time, Joey looked to the side, white plumes falling from the edges of his lips. He coughed once more. “Nope, no. I hate this!”

“Okay, no, give it to me.”

“I’m not giving you a cigarette!” Joey protested, pulling his arm away.

“No, it’s fine. You wanna get this part or not?”

You sat back down, grinning. “If it’s any motivation, I think smoking is hot. I don’t find smokers hot because, you know—lung cancer and everything—but the act of smoking? That’s hot.”

Joey narrowed his eyes at you, before reluctantly handing Chandler the cigarette.

“Alright, don’t think of it as a cigarette. Think of it as the thing that has been missing from your hand. When you’re holding it, you feel right. You feel complete.” Slowly, he brought it up to his mouth to take a puff, and as soon as his lips touched the end, he let out a loud groan as he exhaled. “Oh, my God.”

You had to wrestle him to take the cigarette away before he could breathe in any more. 

Later that night, you were back at Central Perk, sitting by Monica, who had her hand extended out in front of her. “They say that it’s from the tip of a guy’s thumb to the tip of his index finger.”

The three men, Ross, Chandler, and Joey, began extending their own hands, looking at the distance with disdain. 

You chortled a laugh when Ross asked if he could use either thumb.

Rachel strode up to the couches with a tray full of drinks. “Alright, don’t tell me! Decaf cappuccino for Joey, black coffee for Ross, latte for Chandler, peppermint mocha for Y/N, and an iced tea for Monica!”

She handed out each drink with a proud grin, and none of you had the heart to tell her that she had gotten every drink mixed up—save for yours. You began nursing your mocha with a small grin to her.

“I’m getting pretty good at this!” she exclaimed. God, she was so cute, you thought fondly as she walked away to take another customer’s order.

When her back was turned, the drinks were finally switched around, and you watched in amusement as they hurriedly exchanged mugs. It was then that Phoebe walked in, making incoherent noises and hands fluttering about as she muttered.

“You okay, Phoebe?” asked Joey. 

She waved him away. “Yeah, no, it’s not even worth—okay, I guess I’ll tell you guys about it. It’s my bank!”

Monica leaned forward. “What did they do to you?”

“I open up my mail and look at my monthly statement, and there’s five hundred extra dollars in my account!”

“Congrats!” you exclaimed just as Chandler sarcastically gasped out, “Satan’s minions at work again!”

“Now I have to go down there and deal with them,” Phoebe moped.

“What’re you talkin’ about?” crowed Joey. “Keep it!”

Vehemently, Phoebe shook her head. “No, it’s not mine! I didn’t earn it! If I kept it, it’d be like stealing!”

Rachel came back around with a cup of coffee, leaning over to tell Phoebe, “Yeah, but if you spent it, it’d be like shopping!” 

“Okay, but I’d never be able to enjoy it, you know? It’d be like this giant karmic debt!” she cried out, clearly frustrated with the entire ordeal. 

You would’ve replied with something to comfort her, but the thought was torn from you when you noticed Chandler awkwardly bent over the couch, as if trying to hide something.

“Dude, what are you doing?” you asked, peering over to look. “Damn it, Chandler!” you yelled, grabbing him by the belt and hauling him upright. 

With a roll of his eyes, he sat up, white smoke falling from his mouth as he blew out, defeated.

“Gross!” Monica yelled.

“You’ve been so good for three years, I can’t believe you!” said Phoebe. 

“And this,” Chandler held up the cigarette, “is my reward!”

Shaking his head, Ross held a hand out. “Hold on a second, remember what happened the last time you quit?”

“Okay, so this time I won’t quit! If anything, you should be angry at Joey and Y/N, they were smoking it all up in our apartment this morning!”

The two of you gasped. “No, we weren’t! I hate smoking!” Joey yelled. “Y/N was the one that said smoking was hot!”

You smacked his arm. “The act of it is, actual smokers aren’t hot! Don’t you remember what I said about lung cancer? Chandler, don’t pin the blame on us, you chose to smoke!”

Exasperated, Chandler groaned. “Fine. I’m putting it out.” He threw the cigarette into Phoebe’s coffee, much to her dismay. 

“Alright,” Monica said, inching away from the group. “I gotta change—I’ve got a date soon.” You briefly remembered her mentioning that things hadn’t gone so well with Paul, so she was exploring the dating pool once again.

“Is this Alan again?” Rachel asked excitedly. “How’s it going?”

A smile spread across Monica’s features. “It’s going good! He’s nice.” 

“So when do we get to meet the guy?” asked Joey.

“Hm…” Monica tapped a finger against her lips. “Never. See you guys!”

“Come on!” the group exclaimed after her. 

“No!” she said. “Not after what happened with Steve!”

Snorting, Chandler shook his head. “What are you talking about? We loved Shteve. Shteve wash shexy!”

The rest of the group hid their laughter behind cups of coffee. 

“Look, I don’t even know how I feel about him yet. Just give me a chance to figure it out.”

“Then we can meet him?” asked Rachel, hopeful.

Monica grinned. “Nope! Bye, guys!” With that, she skipped out of the cafe. 

You drank the rest of your mocha, placing the mug onto the table and leaving a large tip for Rachel beneath the cup—you were honestly quite flattered that out of all the orders, she had gotten yours right. 

“I better get going, too.”

“What?” asked Joey. “Where are you going?”

“Uh…” You scratched the back of your neck. “Work.”

Ross arched a brow. “I thought you said you had the day off today. What’s going on?”

“Oh, my God!” Phoebe exclaimed. “You’re seeing someone!”

The group burst out into a dozen questions at once and you held your hands up. “Woah, woah! I’m not seeing someone, I just—” 

“Is it that waitress that gave you her number?” Joey interrupted, a bit less enthusiastic than everybody else. 

Heat crawled up your neck and festered into your face. “Yeah, but it’s not a date,” you sighed. “It’s just a casual meet up.”

“So… sex,” Chandler deadpanned.

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, sex. Don’t be such a child about it.”

“How long have you been doing this?” Rachel gasped, resting a hand on your arm. “And why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, a little whiny. 

“Around, uh, a week, I think? And I didn’t tell you because it just feels… I don’t know, embarrassing?”

“Oh, honey, you don’t have to be embarrassed around us!”

Joey blanched. “A week? How many times have you guys done it?”

“Oh, God, Joey, I’m not going to tell you about my sex life. I’m running late already—I’ll see you guys later!”

With that, you practically dashed out of the cafe, heart beating irregularly quickly and cheeks set aflame.

“Do you all promise?” 

Ross rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mon, we promise we’ll be good.”

You nodded with a sweet smile in hopes of quelling her growing anxiety of letting her closest friends meet a guy she was dating. 

Not a second later, Phoebe stormed into Monica’s apartment, sitting down right beside you and showing you a letter from her bank. 

“Dear Ms. Buffay, thank you for calling attention to our error. We have credited your account five hundred dollars. We’re sorry for the inconvenience, and hope you’ll accept this football phone as our free gift.” She pulled out a large brown phone in the shape of, what do you know, a football, looking so cross you could’ve sworn steam was coming out of her ears. “Can you believe this? Now I have a thousand dollars and a football phone!”

Blinking in astonishment, Rachel snatched the letter from you, exclaiming, “What bank is this?”

The door rang, cutting any further questions about Phoebe’s strange bank off. 

“He’s here!” Rachel exclaimed, throwing the letter away somewhere behind her, clapping her hands excitedly.

Before Monica opened the door, she clasped her hands together and addressed the entire group. “Please be good. Please? Remember how much you like me and try not to make fun of him too much.”

“So?” Monica started, anxiously brushing dark strands of hair away from her face. “Let the Alan-bashing begin. Who’s gonna take the first shot?”

The group awkwardly glanced at each other, strangely silent. 

If you had to admit, you rather liked Alan. He was funny, charming, and had real pretty eyes.

“I’ll go,” said Ross. “Let’s start with the way he kept… ugh, no, I’m sorry, I can’t. Can’t do it! We loved him.”

The rest of them chimed in their agreement enthusiastically.

“Wait a minute, we’re talking about someone that I’m going out with?” Monica asked, incredulous.

“Know what was great? The way his smile was kind of crooked,” Joey sighed, dreamily looking off into space. 

With a scoff, you slapped his thigh. “Watch it, Joey. Wouldn’t want you catching feelings for Monica’s boyfriend here.”

“Jealous, much? Want me all to yourself?” he asked flirtatiously, leaning down closer to you. You wrinkled your nose and shoved him away.

The rest of the group began chattering about Alan again, and how he did the best impression of David Hasselhoff.

You turned back to Joey. “Both of us know you can’t stick to one person, Jo.” Your words were meant to be teasing and light-hearted, but you couldn’t help but notice the way Joey’s face fell just a bit at your words.

“I can stick to you,” he said, uncharacteristically softly, fingers threading between yours. “You’re a pretty sticky person, you know?”

“Har, har, har. That’s funny, Joey,” you crooned sarcastically. “Also really gross. Don’t call me sticky ever again.”

Joey smiled at you, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. You decided not to say anything about it, and turned your attention back to the group and listened to them fawn over Alan.

Back at Central Perk, you had just come out of the bathroom in time to hear the gang berating Chandler for smoking again, and you sat down between Ross and Joey on the large couch. 

“This is so unfair,” Chandler barked, blowing out white plumes of smoke. “So I have a flaw—big fucking deal! Like Joey’s constant knuckle-cracking isn’t annoying? Or Ross, with his over-pronouncing every goddamn word! And Monica, with that snort when she laughs! Or when Y/N refuses to get Chinese takeout because they use styrofoam containers and they hate the sound of styrofoam! I haven’t had Chinese takeout in months! I accept all of those flaws, why can’t you accept me for this?”

The entire group pursed their lips and dejectedly hung their heads in silence.

“You can just order Chinese takeout on your own,” you grumbled under your breath. “You don’t always have to have me there.”

“Yeah, well, then I’d feel bad!” replied Chandler, crossing his arms like a child. “I’d be chewing on my pork dumplings and thinking—man, I betrayed one of my closest friends for this.”

“Does the knuckle cracking bother everybody, or just him?” asked Joey, hands glued firmly to his sides, as if he had to consciously remind himself not to crack them. 

Placing a hand on his shoulder, you faked a look of reassurance, before deadpanning, “We could live without it, Jo.”

“Is it just a little annoying? Or is it like when Phoebe chews her hair?”

As if on cue, Phoebe spat out locks of blonde that she was working between her teeth. You coughed to hide your growing smile. 

“Don’t listen to him, Pheebs, alright? I think it’s endearing,” said Ross.

Joey frowned, then spoke again, over-enunciating each word. “Oh, you do, do you?”

Monica snort-laughed, which made Chandler gesture erratically towards her. 

“There’s nothing wrong with speaking correctly!” Ross defended.

“Indeed, there isn’t!” Rachel proudly gesticulated, also poking fun at Ross with overstretched syllables. At Ross’ withering glare, she squeaked, “I should really get back to work!” 

“Otherwise, someone might get what they actually ordered,” Phoebe muttered quietly, but not quiet enough for Rachel not to hear.

The brunette’s jaw dropped. “Oh, so the hair comes out and the gloves come on!”

The entire group burst into a raucous argument, and you found yourself somehow defending and protesting against both Phoebe and Joey at the same time. From the corner of your eye, you could see Chandler get up and walk away with a skip in his step, and a lit cigarette in hand.

It was a little past two in the morning. You had barely thrown anything on except for a worn black hoodie and a pair of jeans that had holes in the pockets. But you just needed to leave—it felt like you couldn’t breathe in your own apartment.

A part of you considered going to Monica’s. 

But for some reason unbeknownst to you, you found yourself in front of Joey’s bedroom, having gotten through their front door with an emergency spare key they had given you. This wasn’t really an emergency, but you’ve used it for lesser reasons.

Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you knocked on the door.

A couple seconds later, a groggy Joey swung it open, dark hair messily strewn over his head. He was rubbing his fists into his eyes, muffling a yawn as he said, “Oh, hi, Y/N. You missed a lot this afternoon—Chandler quit smoking, Phoebe found a thumb in a can of soda and got seven thousand bucks for it, Monica broke up with Alan and I’m obviously devastated about it but—”

He immediately stopped in his brief recap of the day when he finally looked at you properly, noticing the way your eyes were puffy and red, as if you’d been crying. There were dried tear tracks on your cheeks, barely visible beneath the dim moonlight streaming through the window across the room. 

“Hey, hey,” his hands were on your shoulders instantly, roping you closer to him in a warm embrace. You buried your head into his chest, lips trembling as you staved away the burning urge to sob right into him. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

Gently, he led you into his room, sitting you down on his bed. 

“I don’t even know… it’s not that big of a deal, I just… felt so overwhelmed,” you croaked, pulling your knees up to your chest. 

“What happened?” he asked, sitting down beside you and slinging a protective arm over your back. 

“You remember that waitress that I had a thing with?”

Joey hummed.

“Well, she’s married. And she’s got a kid. I didn’t know, obviously. I just… I don’t know. She told me while we were messing around, like—how fucked up is that? I mean, it’s bad enough that you’re using me to cheat on someone that you’ve got a kid with, but it’s even worse to bring that up while we were… doing it, you know? I told her to leave and she begged me to hear her out. She wouldn’t go, and got angry at me for some fucking reason, so I told her I’d leave the apartment and if she wasn’t gone by the time I got back I’d call the cops on her. I know it wasn’t really my fault but—I still feel terrible about it. I don’t want to be the reason a family falls apart, Joey.” 

You were shaking against him, and a stray tear meandered down your cheek. 

There wasn’t really much Joey could say. He was never very good at comforting people.

He pressed a kiss to your cold forehead, brushing away haphazard strands of hair. 

“You wanna stay over?” he offered, patting his bed. “I can sleep on the couch.”

Wordlessly, you pulled back his comforter and laid down, exhausted beyond relief. 

Joey patted your back one more time for good measure, before getting up to head to the living room.

“No,” you mumbled, hand loosely wrapping around his wrist. “Please stay here with me.”

Hesitant, he asked, “You sure?”

Joey never got a response—you had already fallen asleep. With a shrug, he slid into the bed beside you, winding his arms over you and cradling you from behind. His nose pressed into your shoulder and he inhaled sharply, noting with pleasant surprise that you smelled like blueberries. 

“Good night, Y/N.”

You shifted in his hold so that your arm laid over his that was thrown over your waist. 

Joey fell into an easy, dreamless sleep in no less than a minute.

[dyns33]

Mistake

I need to finish my Shane's era before jumping into a new one or back into an old one.

Judith didn't understand.

It was normal that Judith did not understand, since she was only six years old, and her parents had not explained everything to her.

The only thing she knew was that her mother had decided that she no longer wanted to live with her father, that she was filing for divorce, and that the little girl was going to have to live sometimes with one, sometimes with the other, but never again with both as before.

She hated her mother for that.

Y/N could have told her daughter the truth. She could have told her that after an argument, Shane had spent the night out, and when he finally came home, he told her that he had cheated on her.

The news was a shock. Like a slap in the face. Shane had never hit her, but that was as bad. Upset, hurt, furious, she did not want to listen to his excuses and explanations, yelling at him to leave, and immediately calling a lawyer.

It was what you had to do in these kinds of situations, everyone said it. Television, films, novels, experts. A man who cheated once would inevitably cheat again.

After eight years of marriage, Y/N never thought Shane would do this to her. She wondered if it was the first time, if he had hidden things from her, if he still loved her, if he had ever truly loved her…

She had loved him. She probably still loved him and that was why she suffered so much.

Y/N could have told Judith everything so that she would hate her less, and see that it was all her father's fault, but she couldn't. Shane had a lot of faults, but he was a great father, who adored his daughter, and who was adored by her.

“I want to be with daddy.”

"I know, darling. You'll see him next Sunday."

"No, I want to see him now. You're mean, I never want to see you again !"

“Honey, it’s complicated.”

It was complicated and hard. Even harder, because she didn't explain to anyone the reasons for her request for divorce. The other parents looked at her strangely in front of the school. People on the street or in the supermarket. Colleagues. The horrible woman who broke Sheriff Walsh's heart, the good Sheriff Walsh, who didn't deserve this.

Even her lawyer didn't have all the details. Far too involved in her desire for justice, but above all for money, she had advised Y/N to do everything possible to obtain sole custody of their daughter, and alimony. This would be easy with certain elements of bad behavior, including cheating.

Y/N didn’t want Shane’s money. She didn't want the house. She didn't want to take his daughter from him. No, she just didn't want to suffer anymore thinking about the moment he opened the door and told her what he had done.

Communication had never been her husband's strong point. He hadn't really appreciated her telling him to leave, but he had left anyway, and hadn't spoken to her since. She dropped Judith off at Rick and Lori's house, and she was going to pick her up there, without ever seeing him.

Messages were sent via their lawyers, nothing else.

It had been almost two months since the procedure had started when they found themselves before the judge. It could have been easy, quick, but Shane didn't like these things. He refused to sign the papers of a classic divorce. He seemed convinced that it was far too simple not to hide something.

"If you try to take my daughter to me, I swear you will regret it."

"Mr. Walsh, no threat." He ordered the judge to him.

"These are not threats. That she leaves, very well, but she will not take my daughter !"

"This is not what is planned." whispered Y/N without looking at him. "We will continue to have her for a week each, and there will be a schedule for the holidays …"

"This is not really what your lawyer said to mine. She made it clear that as a mother, it would be normal for you to get my daughter's guard. I have a better salary, the house is mine, I can take care of her ! "

"I never said …"

"You are often very busy with your work, Mr. Walsh." her lawyer said with a little sly smile.

"How dare you ?! I'm going to ask for exclusive custody, you will see ! Y/N, I won't let you take her !"

"If I wanted to take her from you, I only have to talk about your cheating ! You have to stop now, you have to …"

"What did you say, Madam Walsh ?" asked the judge to her.

Y/N suddenly felt very bad. She hadn't been sleeping for weeks. She was almost ate anymore. The few days she had with her daughter was hell. And now her future ex -husband was going to hate her forever, for a little sentence that she had not been able to hold back any longer.

"… No. No, nothing. I said nothing."

"You've been talking about cheating."

"No."

"It changes everything !" exclaimed her lawyer with triumph. "You have to add this element to the backrest !"

"No, I don't want that. No, no, no …"

Her last panic crisis dates back to high school. Even if it was quite distant, she remembered it well. It was difficult to completely forget this kind of crisis, when it seemed impossible each time to remember how to calm them.

At that moment, there was nothing more, her eyes filled with tears. The courtroom had disappeared, like the judge and the lawyers who were arguing. Maybe she was shaking but she was not sure. Her only certainty was that she couldn't breathe, despite all her efforts.

Then she felt something on her face, something warm, sweet. Reassuring. A voice called her, just as soft, patient.

"Look at me. Baby, look at me. Hush. Calm down. Breathe. Baby, Y/N, calm down."

Shane's hand caressed her cheek while he was repeating reassuring words again and again, asking her to breathe for him. He put his forehead on herswhile taking her hand, placing it on his chest, asking her to imitate him.

His big black eyes did not leave her for a second.

When her lungs finally agreed to work again, he kissed her quickly before returning to his seat. The judge decided that it was not possible to continue the session.

Y/N repeated to her lawyer that she absolutely did not want Shane's cheating to appear on the record. She sent an email to the judge telling him the same thing, asking him to let Shane see his daughter.

A response came the following week, after Judith suddenly changed her behavior, hugging her mother and asking if she wanted kisses to heal. Same thing for Lori or some parents, who had started to smile at her again and greet her like a normal human being.

When she opened the door, Y/N didn’t expect to see her husband. He still had his work clothes on, and he seemed embarrassed like the day he asked her out on their first date.

"… We can talk ?" he asked simply, rubbing his head.

"… Come in."

Nothing had changed in the house since he left. After all, it was his home as he had reminded her since the beginning of the proceedings, even if he agreed that she would stay there until they were officially divorced. But it was mostly because Y/N hadn’t been able to touch anything since that day.

She had been happy in this house, even if she couldn't sleep there anymore. Shane noticed the blanket on the couch.

“Is there a problem with the bed ?” he muttered.

“No, not with the bed.”

"Babe… Look, I know you asked the judge to disregard my infidelity. I… I know it was just your lawyer doing her job as a greedy bitch. I wanted to thank you."

"It's normal. I would never do that to you. I wouldn't take Judith from you."

“But you should !” he almost shouted, hitting the wall. "You should, after everything I've done ! I've been an asshole ! When I told Rick why we're getting divorced after all this time, he almost hit me. Lori hit me. They thought… I let everyone treat me like a victim, because I'm an asshole."

“Shane…”

"No, listen to me. Listen to me until the end this time. That night, I know we had an argument, even if I don't remember why…"

“We had to go to the lake.” she whispered.

"What ?"

"We had to go to the lake. It had been planned for months, Judith was delighted, and then you told me that it was not possible, because you had to work during the weekend."

This wasn't the first time Shane's schedule had disrupted their family's, and it had never been his fault. As a sheriff, he had obligations. Y/N knew it, she understood it.

But she had been disappointed. She had told him that she was disappointed, that their daughter would be disappointed, and Shane had reacted badly, tired from his long day and feeling attacked, criticized, for something that also disappointed him and for which he was not responsible.

"Shit, it's true… And I went to the bar. To that fucking bar. I drank again and again, too much, and the next day I woke up in a motel, with a girl… I had never seen her before, I don't even know her name. I don't even remember what we did, but it was obvious that I had made a huge mistake. So I went back to the house, and I did a second stupid thing."

"What ?"

"I told you everything. I could have said nothing, lived with it, and we would have been happily ever after, you would never have known. But I couldn't. So I told you, hoping you would understand that I didn't mean to do that, that I was really sorry, and that I would never do it again, but you kicked me out."

“Are you saying it’s my fault ?”

"No. I'm an asshole and I hurt you. I understand. I didn't want that, but I understand. It wasn't possible for me to lose you and lose Judith. I'm sorry, for everything."

Shane Walsh was many things, but he wasn't a liar. He had told her the truth about his cheating, and when he told her that he was sorry for this mistake that he didn't even remember having made after drinking liters of alcohol for a pointless argument, he was sincere. When he said he never intended to do anything like that again, he really meant it.

"I don't want to lose you, baby, I don't want…" he sobbed, reaching out to take her hands. "If you really want this divorce, okay. I'll sign, okay. But… If you agreed to give me a chance, just one small chance… I promise I'll never hurt you again. "

"… It's hard, Shane."

"Yes, I know."

"You don't know. You don't know, but I love you. We're going to need help, time, but… I don't want to lose you either."

He kissed her for what seemed like an eternity, only letting her go when he tried to do more and she gently pushed him away, telling him she wasn't ready yet.

Either way, he had to go. He had not finished his service. This surprised Y/N because his work was very important to him and he only came home when he was finished, or for an emergency. He told her this was an emergency, kissing her on the forehead before leaving.

Judith didn't really understand when these parents told her that they were no longer divorcing. Her father had explained to her that Mommy was hurt because he had done something horrible, that she was angry because he had no excuses, but that she had never wanted to make her suffer, so she had to be nice.

Now everything was better, and she still didn't understand anything, except that her parents weren't separating, and that they were going to continue living together, so she was very happy, jumping into their arms with a big smile.

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Seo Changbin x F!Reader TW : angsty in the beginning and middle ; kind of crackish/funny at the end ; children ; parenthood ; Word Count : 4.3k Request : Anon : is there any way you could make a part 2 of changbin’s “don’t waste your tears on me” fic? from the angst spin the wheel?? 😅 A/N : idk why this took me so long to write, I'm trying to work on all my requests!! I might make Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays request days. I linked part 1 though for anyone who hasn't read it!!

“We spending the weekend at grammas?!” Your son cheered as you held his hand tightly, walking down the sidewalk towards the car. You had explained a little bit to him during the walk, and thankfully his excitement had gotten the best of him and you didn’t have to give him a real explanation of why. “Hwa Hwa coming too, right?” He asked, wide brown eyes staring up at you questioningly, and you tried to be as enthusiastic as he was when you nodded in agreement. 

It was so much easier to pull something like this off for a child his age, he didn’t ask the big questions, he simply wanted to know what you all were going to do over the weekend. Chunhwa on the other hand, was full of questions on the car ride over to Changmins school. It’s not like you could hide it from her, and you didn’t want to hide it from her either. She had the right to know that her father had finally returned home, and if she wanted, you would drop her back off at the house so she could see him. You weren’t going to keep the kids from him, but you also wanted him to know the pain that not only you went through, but the children as well. 

“Your phone has been ringing nonstop. So has mine.” Chunhwa announced as you pulled open the back door for your son to climb in. You quickly shook your head as you looked at her through the rearview mirror, and a quick look of understanding flashed across her face before she put on a fake, tight lipped smile. “Grandma just wanted to know when you were gonna be here. I let her know that you had to pick Changmin up from school first.” 

You hummed with false understanding at the lie as you helped buckle your son in before sprinting around to the drivers side and climbing in. “She can be so impatient sometimes… Let’s just mute our phones so I don’t get distracted on my way there, yeah?” You suggested, and Chunhwa nodded her head slowly, putting her phone on silent before dropping it into the glove compartment and then doing the same with yours. “So tell me, how was school today?” 

The house had never felt so empty before. Instead of it being filled with the heartwarming sounds of his family’s daily lives, there was only the ticking of the clock that hung in the living room, and his quiet footsteps as he walked through his home. 

He knew that it wouldn’t happen, but he couldn’t stop himself from staring at the clock, waiting for the minute hand to land on the exact time that you and the kids would come walking through the front door. Changmin would come running over to him after kicking off his shoes, already in the process of raving over everything that happened in class today while Chunhwa would excuse herself to her room to study. He’d listen intently to his son, remembering every single little detail that he told him before excusing himself to go see Chunhwa. She was so smart, and he was always so proud of her, but he worried about her studying so much, so he always tried to find some way to get her to take breaks. He missed the kids, he missed you. 

The way you’d smile so brightly at him when you walked through the front door, like you were seeing him again for the first time, the look of love in your eyes and the way you seemed so excited to press your lips to his and be held in his arms. He’d do anything for that moment again, to just hold you tight and never let you go. 

It’s not even like he purposely ignored you or the kids, he’d never do something like that, he loved the three of you more than anything. He had fucked up though, he had gotten so caught up in what he was doing that he didn’t think to even say hello, to text you or Chunhwa… How could he be so stupid? He lost everything because of one stupid mistake…He couldn’t handle it though, he couldn’t. The silence that surrounded him was excruciatingly loud, it was unbearable. He needed his family back. 

“Hey Hwa… It’s your dad… This is my fifth time trying to call you. I just want to know how school went, and if you got picked up��� Did you make it to your grandparents alright? Please… Call me back… I love you. You’re the best daughter in the whole world… Tell your brother I love him too… Have your mom call me, please?” The beep sounded through the phone to let him know the time had run out for the message, and he quickly hung up, letting his phone drop to the couch beside him as his head fell forward, tears slowly beginning to pool in his eyes. 

Since the day he married you, there hadn’t been a night that passed where he didn’t have you curled up next to him in bed, the both of you falling asleep enveloped in the warmth of each other. Since the day his children were born, he had never missed a goodnight ritual, standing in the hall between both of their doors, his arms outstretched to give them their hugs and wish them sweet dreams, telling them both that he loved them before they retreated into their rooms to sleep. Not until those days that he had, in yours and the kids minds, completely disappeared. 

It was impossible to do anything. Dinner time came and passed, and he couldn’t even bring himself to eat anything, it just wouldn’t feel right sitting at the table by himself. He couldn’t sleep, and he wasn’t even going to try to attempt to sleep in his own bed, it would feel too empty, and he’d probably end up crying the entire night. 

What was worse was the fact that neither you, or Chunhwa had ever answered his calls or his texts, and while he knew that you were just doing to him what he had done to you, he just wanted to know that you and the children had gotten to your parents house alright. He just wanted to know that you all were okay. Of course, that’s what you had been trying to do for five days straight and he had never answered you… But were you really going to keep up with this? How was he supposed to go an entire weekend without you and the kids? He couldn’t… He couldn’t do that. 

“You know I love when you all visit, I love seeing you and the children… But I’m worried about you.” Your mom said as she sunk down into the cushion on the opposite end of the couch. This was the fourth time she had tried to start this conversation, all the other times the kids would run in and interrupt, but now that they were sleeping, she could actually talk to you. 

Not that you wanted to have the conversation in the first place. You had been thankful every single time Changmin would come running into the room, excitedly going on about everything that had happened since the last time he had seen her. Now the kids were sleeping, at least they said they were, and it had given your mother ample opportunity to pick up right where she had left off. “I don’t want to talk about it, mom. I don’t want to think about it, that’s why I’m here.” 

She hummed in thought, her eyes burning holes into your hand that had worn your wedding bands that were now sitting in your purse. “Running away doesn’t solve problems, especially marriage problems.” She tsked her tongue, shaking her head as she spoke. “This isn’t just some high school relationship that you can avoid and hope goes away. You’ve got children, Y/N.” 

Your eyes rolled as your head fell back, a loud groan leaving you as you stared up at the ceiling. “Yes, I know this, mom. The children are the reason I left in the first place.” You explained, finally turning to face her. You didn’t want to have to explain everything to her, but it was clear that you’d have to so she wouldn’t attempt to be a marriage counselor. “Five days, mom. He went without calling or texting for five days… And if it were just me, I wouldn’t have cared. I know he gets busy with work… But he didn’t even call to check in on the kids. He never called Chunhwa back… He hurt my babies, and I can’t just let that slide.” 

“So you did this for the kids…?” She quizzed, and you nodded in agreement. Of course you did it for them, everything you did was for them. “But surely they’d rather be spending the weekend with their father that they haven’t seen in five days rather than being here with their grandparents.” She mused, and you couldn’t help but narrow your eyes at her, your lips set in a straight line as you stared. “And I’m sure that Changbin is suffering enough right now… I’ve never seen a man who loves his children and his wife more than he does… So, tell me… Are you really doing this for the children… Or are you doing it for yourself because you’re upset?” 

Dammit… She really did know everything. It’s not like you could lie to her either, you never could, not even when you were younger. “I just… I don’t know how he could forget about us, mom. I’m not upset for me… I’m upset for them. Changmin thought we were getting a divorce for Christ’s sake.” You ran your hands through your hair, sighing with aggravation. “I’m upset for them, I’m angry for them. What kind of father…” You trailed off, letting your palms slide down your face, wiping away the stray tears that had begun to fall. “I’ve never seen them look so hurt. They love him, I love him… What he did…” 

“What he did wasn’t okay… But it’s not unforgivable.” Your mom continued for you, her hand moving to ruffle your hair before she sat back and relaxed into the couch. “He’s a father, he’s also an idol. He’s living two very different lives at the same exact time, and it’s easy to lose track of things. I’m not trying to make excuses for him, but you said it yourself, Changmin thought you were getting a divorce… Do you think that being here will make him think any differently?” 

She was right, of course she was, it was rare for your mother to ever be wrong about anything. “Well… I can’t do anything about it right now. The kids are already in bed, they’re sleeping. I’m sure he’s already sleeping too. It’s late, mom… We should both head get some rest.” Your mom hummed in agreement, although you knew that she knew the only reason you said that was to change the subject, to end the conversation entirely. There was nothing else you could say to her, she had already proven her point. 

“Right… Sleep on it. I’m sure you’ll do the right thing for your family, you always do.” And with that, she had ended the conversation, pushing herself up off the couch and heading for the stairs. “Get some sleep now, hon. Think about everything. Okay?” 

The thunder crashed as lightning lit up the dark gray sky, the morning sun unable to shine through the thick cloud cover that brought hammering rains along with it. “Wanna go outside…” Your son moped at the breakfast table, dismally staring out the window beside him as you and your mother worked on preparing the food. “Want it to go away… Stupid rain.” He huffed, his chubby cheeks propped up against his fist as he glared at the raindrops that trickled down the window. 

“We wouldn’t have such pretty flowers and green grass and big trees if it didn’t rain, Min.” You explained as you filled his little cup, pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head before patting his back. “How ‘bout you go make sure Hwa is awake so she can eat breakfast too. Hmm?” He grumbled out an annoyed okay before jumping from his chair and heading to the stairs, mumbling incoherently as he walked away. 

“Oh, I remember when you used to be the exact same way.” Your mother joked, laughing to herself as she shook her head. “You’d get so mad at me over the craziest things. Looks like that trait carried over.” She continued teasing, and just as you were about to begin defending your childhood actions that you couldn’t even begin to remember, the door knocked. “Can you go get that, hon? It’s probably just a package, the delivery person doesn’t want it to get all soaked on the porch.” 

You rushed over to the door, throwing it open, preparing yourself to step out into the torrential downpour to grab the apparent package, but you were met with your favorite person, the only person in the world that could break your heart and fix it at the same time. “Changbin…?” You whispered out his name, shocked that he was there, but even more shocked by the way he looked. 

There were dark circles under his eyes, his hair dripping from the rain that he was standing in, his clothes soaked, he was shivering, and even though the raindrops were pouring down his face, you could tell that he had been crying, and he still was crying. 

“I can’t… I can’t do this…” He stammered, not even trying to move past you to come in the house and get out of the rain, he just stood there, continuing to stare at you as though you were the only thing he needed, the only thing he wanted, and you were starting to think it was the truth when his hands shakily moved out to grab yours. “I couldn’t sleep last night… I couldn’t eat. I need you and the kids home with me… I’m sorry… I love you too much… I just need you all… Please…” 

You grabbed his hands, pulling him into the house and wrapping your arms around him, trying to warm him, and you could feel just how deep the rain had soaked him, his body so cold, it was so unfamiliar, it almost felt foreign. “You shouldn’t have driven all the way over here with no sleep… You could have gotten hurt. You need to eat… What the hell, Binnie?” You scolded him, quickly undoing the zipper on her jacket and pulling it off his shoulders. 

At that moment it felt like the two of you were the only people in the world, all you cared about was each other. You loved him, you didn’t want to leave him, you didn’t want to hurt him, you just wanted him to feel what you and the kids felt. “You… called me Binnie…” He whispered, the words catching you off guard for a moment. You always called him Binnie, that was his name. 

“Of course I did…” You murmured, stepping away for a moment to hang his jacket on the rack before going back to him, your hands felt so warm when they moved up to cup his red tinted cheeks. “I love you… That will never change…” You felt his cheeks twitch, the corners of his lips pulling up in a slight smile as he eyes softened, his pupils dilated as he stared at you. 

Were you about to kiss him? Absolutely. You missed the feeling of his lips against yours, the way his hands would hold onto the ends of your shirt so tightly as he tried to keep you close. You were slowly closing the distance between the two of you when you heard your son shout from behind you. “Dad! Dads here!” His tiny feet sounding so heavy against the floor as he ran over to where you and Changbin were standing. 

Bins smile only widened when he saw his son, but his eyes glossed over, and no matter how much he tried to blink it away, you could tell that he was once again on the verge of tears. “There you are!” Changbins voice cracked as he bent down to scoop his son up, holding him tightly to his chest. “I missed you so much, pal.” His hands smoothed through your son's hair as he held him close. “You’ve been good for your mom and your gramma, right?” 

Your son wiggled to get free of Changbins hold, giggling loudly as he nodded his head. “Yessss!” He squealed, finally running off once his feet were on the ground. “I get Hwa Hwa, she’s upstairs reading again.” He rushed to the stairs, your eyes following him until you heard the sound of his feet ascending before turning back to look at Changbin. 

“Come in and get some coffee, Bin. You’re gonna catch a cold.” You murmured, waiting for him to kick his shoes off before leading him into the kitchen. Your mom had at some point left the room, most likely to give the two of you the privacy that you needed to talk, and you were glad, but there was still some lingering tension between you and Bin, or maybe it was just awkwardness. “How do you want it?” You asked, standing next to the coffee pot, the cup already in your hands as you waited for his answer. 

“Were you actually going to come back home?” His voice was closer than you expected, and when you turned around, he was standing right behind you, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. “You packed a lot of stuff for yourself and the kids… I just… It didn’t seem like you were packing for just the weekend…” 

It was hard to look him in the eyes, he looked devastated, and maybe it was the fact that your son had his eyes and you hated seeing your son cry, maybe that’s what had you dropping your gaze to the floor to avoid the potential heartache that would come with seeing Bin cry. “I just wanted you to understand how we felt…” You murmured, keeping your eyes low. “I was gonna come home though, I was gonna bring them home…” 

“When?” He questioned, his head shaking in disbelief. “How long were you planning on being here?” His fingers ran through his already tousled hair that was finally beginning to dry. 

The last thing you wanted was an argument, not when the kids were around, and surely not at your mothers house. That’s why you were thankful when you heard your daughter coming down the stairs, her footsteps far quieter than those of her brother. “Hey dad..” She mumbled, shoving her hands into the pockets of her pajama pants as she made her way into the kitchen. Changbins arms were outstretched, waiting for her to walk right into them for a hug, but she instead walked right past him, and it was like you could hear his heart shattering from the silent maneuver. “Good morning, mom.” And as if on purpose, just to rub in his face that she didn’t hug him, her arms wrapped around you for a hug. 

“Chunghwa… Honey, I-” Changbin started, his words cut off by the sound of the chair being pulled away from the table, dragging across the tiled floor with a loud screech. She was upset, everyone knew that, and she was showing it in a way that most teenagers would. It was rude, but she was getting her point across in the only way she really knew how to. 

“Were you cheating on mom?” She asked once she had dropped down into the chair, and you knew that both yours and Changbins jaws dropped at the accusation. “Yeori from class said that her dad cheated and he said it was just a work thing too. Now her parents are divorced. Are you and mom getting a divorce?” It was like being in an interrogation room, the way she looked at him, the way she spoke. She was pissed, and you’d usually be upset with her for using that kind of tone with her father, but this was different, she had every right to be as angry as she was. “Is that why you didn’t respond to any of my texts or calls? You didn’t want your new girlfriend to know about your old family? Did you get bored? Are we not good enough?” Her voice broke at the end though, she could only stay strong for so long before the dam broke and all the emotions she was feeling took control. 

Changbins jaw was slacked, his eyes filled with tears as he stared at your daughter, the accusations hurt worse than anyone could imagine, but the pain that he felt at being accused, he knew, was nowhere near the pain that his daughter was feeling right now. “Chunghwa…” He whispered her name, his head shaking rapidly as tears poured down his cheeks, much like the rain that was pouring outside the windows. “I love your mom so much, I love you and your brother so so much… I would never do anything like that. I’m sorry, sorry that I didn’t answer you… I didn’t answer your mom. I got busy and… I messed up… But the three of you… You’re good enough, you’re more than good enough. You deserve a father better than me… A…” His voice was beginning to shake with silent sobs, his body trembling as he tried to hold them back. “A father that will be there for you and your brother when you need me to be… And… Your mother… she’s so beautiful… She deserves someone that can love her better than I can…” His hands ran over his face to wipe away the tears, his cheeks were blotchy and red when his arms fell to his sides again. “I haven’t been the best dad, or the best husband… But I’m trying… And I’ll keep trying… You’re my family, you’re all I have… And I don’t want to lose the three greatest things to ever happen to me…” 

Changbin was always an emotional person, he wore his heart on his sleeve, but right now his emotions were so raw. Seeing his daughter upset, knowing that he was the sole reason for her being that sad, it hurt him in a way that no one else could ever hurt him. “I just… I want to go home… I missed you…” Chunghwa could barely even whisper out the words, they were choked off and you wanted nothing more than to pull her into a hug and tell her everything would be okay. Changbin was faster than you though, pulling her up out of the chair and wrapping her in a bear hug. “You can’t… You can’t do that again!” She sobbed into his chest, sniffling loudly, the surge of emotion between the both of them was uncontrollable it seemed. 

“I won’t… I promise I won’t… I’ll never leave like that again…” He reassured her, his own words punctuated by small hiccups as he calmed down from crying. “I’m so sorry, Hwa…” 

“Oh my god!” Chunghwa groaned as she walked through the front door, dropping her bag and kicking off her shoes right at the entrance before storming off to her room and slamming the door shut behind her. Changbin and Changmin followed behind her, your son laughing hysterically as your husband sheepishly grinned at you. 

“What did you do?” You questioned, helping your son with his bag and his jacket while staring up at Changbin. It was the first time since Chunghwa had been in middle school that Changbin did after school pickup for the kids, but he had offered, and you weren’t going to say no. 

“In my defense…” He started, and you began to mentally prepare yourself for what he was going to say and how you’d have to help defend him to your daughter whenever she decided to reemerge from her room. “The boy was getting way too close to her! His arm was wrapped around her and it looked like he was trying to give her one of those hugs where he just… He was too close to my little girl. I can’t watch that! I won’t let that happen!” 

“Dad embarrassed Hwa in front of her boyfriend!” Changmin teased, clearly enjoying the embarrassment of his older sister, and you shot him a stern look before he ran off to his room giggling loudly. You had known about the boyfriend for a while now, but judging by Changbins expression of pure shock, it was clear that he had yet to be informed about it. 

“Her boyfriend?!” He was visibly cringing at the thought of it. “My little girl isn’t old enough to have a boyfriend yet! When did this happen?! Why didn’t anyone tell me about this? When?!” He followed you into the kitchen, leaning against the counter, his mouth still agape and his eyes wide as he stared at you. You couldn’t help but laugh at the way he was acting, but you could only imagine the embarrassment your daughter felt right now. “Oh no…” He murmured, his face morphing into one of realization as he slumped against the counter, his head in his hands. “She’s gonna hate me forever… Isn’t she? She’s more mad at me now than she was back when I was gone for a week… Oh my god… She’s never gonna talk to me again… Maybe I should go into hiding…?” 

You snorted loudly, turning to face him completely as you cupped his cheeks, pressing a kiss to his lips before speaking. “Nope… No hiding, honey. You’re going to enjoy the wrath of our teenage daughter that you embarrassed in front of not only her friends, but her very first boyfriend too.” You kissed him once more, biting your lip to stifle the laughter that continued to build when you saw the slight hint of worry and what looked to be fear flash in his eyes. “I love you so much, honey. We’re so happy to have you back.” 

[inscrutable-shadow]

hello... it is pumpkin.... military au brainrot... cal having to help than when his comm breaks. i just think cal's kind of a problem in therapy and he should be able to be nice to than outside of it :]

hi @write-kin! sorry for the long wait haha but i finally had an idea for something i wanted to say with this (unfortunately thanatos is yet again an asshole but subtly this time because he wants cal to like him lol)

"Sorry about this," Thanatos said with a laugh. There wasn't really much else he could do other than hover awkwardly while Cal did his work. It wasn't Than's fault the communicator was always broken. He just had the jumpiest, most volatile clients in the entire army, apparently. Whether it was Miguel slamming the table to scare him, one of Vic's surges, or an ordinary bit of clumsiness equally his fault as Mariano's, he just couldn't seem to keep the only real piece of army-issued equipment he had intact for longer than two weeks. (The record was actually thirteen days. He kept a counter in the corner of his desk calendar.) It seemed like the only one who hadn't broken his comm was Rex, and that was because they still had his sessions behind safety glass.

"N-no, it's all right," Cal assured him, glasses pushed high on his nose and pointedly avoiding eye contact. "These models can be finicky, the casings are too big for the internal housing and the wiring likes to come loose. It's no wonder a little fall off the desk is enough to… to break it…" The kid's voice had gained steam throughout his explanation, but at the end he seemed to remember that he was talking to Thanatos, the ex-war mage who was also his therapist, and lost his nerve.

"Still, I hate to trouble you, Calamine. I'm sure you have better places to be than in my office fixing my comm for the hundredth time." He got to his feet to pour himself another coffee, mostly as an excuse to get his hands out of line of sight. They tended to, if only subconsciously, unsettle non-war mages. Particularly the weak one, his left, which he dropped into his pocket out of reflex. He was always wary of people on the wrong side of his desk.

Cal shook his head. "Really, it's fine! See, it's fixed." He gave the comm a little shake, which, to Than's surprise, didn't produce a rattling noise of any kind. "I c-can't get you a newer model, but… mounting it on the desk might help. You'll still be able to pick it up, it'll just be harder to knock over. I can also add some stuff to make it harder to EMP and, well, spill coffee into."

Thanatos laughed again, that disarming smile coming easily to his face. "I could certainly use that. Thank you, Calamine. I truly appreciate it."

The praise had the desired effect; the apprehension in Cal's eyes shifted to shock, tentative hope, then admiration, and Thanatos hid his satisfied smile in his coffee mug. Too easy. "Uh, sure! Is there somewhere you'd like the mounting to be?"

Than's desk was meticulously organized. "This is where it usually sits." He indicated a spot near the right side of the desk, past his fountain pen set, where he could easily reach it with his good hand. He sometimes had trouble holding on to things with the other, so he tried to avoid picking up anything with it he couldn't afford to drop.

"Oh, that's awfully close to the edge. Probably why it keeps falling off." The comms tech frowned and scanned Thanatos's belongings with a furrowed brow. "If I install it over here, it'll be more out of the way." He indicated an empty spot near the wall on the left side of the desk.

Thanatos's smile took on an air of chagrin. "No, thank you, Calamine, the right side is fine." That spot was empty for a reason, after all.

"Are you sure? On this side, I could wire the base in with the rest of the comms and give you a way to use it without—"

"Cal."

Cal looked up, to where Thanatos, as he frequently did, was holding his left arm across his body, where the hand would be out of the way. "Oh, your— I'm sorry—"

Than laughed again. "Don't worry about it. I'll make do without the extra wiring. You're doing enough for me already."

The kid was about as pale as a person could be at this point. "I-I'll just… see if I can get materials for that then… sorry again, doctor…"

"You're perfectly all right. Thanks, Cal. I look forward to the improvements." He watched Cal scuttle away with a sigh and a smile. Kid was going places. Just needed to lose the social anxiety.