#like I KNOW he’s wrong but when I get in these headspace I can’t help but think maybe he was onto something

[fettuccin-e]

Man in the Mirror

Kinktober Day 19: Voyeurism

Tags: Marc Spector x Reader x Steven Grant, afab!fem!reader, consensual voyeurism, unprotected piv (pls wrap it in real life omg), dirty talk, slight degradation, Steven watches Marc fuck you through a mirror idk what to tell you (w/c: 1K)

A/N: Back with the boys because I love them and I cannot help myself okay!!! And this is consensual, even though Steven doesn't exactly know it at the beginning, he just thinks he's being a perv. But in my fics, everyone is a perv alright! (this month I have been using these prompts from flightlessangelwings!)

Steven knows it’s wrong, God, it’s fucking wrong, but it’s like he can’t stop himself.

There’s something about the way Marc fucks you, the way you scrabble at the bedsheets when the shoves you into a lewd arch, his hand pressing into your back. The way you moan for it, heaving breaths into your lungs. It’s the way Marc talks to you through it, talking to you like you’re the filthy one, like you’re the one who’s desperate for it, even though Steven knows it’s both of you.

“God damn, baby,” Marc snarls, fucking into you hard enough that tears are starting to leak down your cheeks. “You’re fucking sucking me in, sweetheart. Feels good, huh? Getting fucked like you need?”

“Yes, fuck, yes,” you gasp through the moans he forces out of your mouth with every thrust. “It’s so fucking good, Marc, you’re so fucking deep.”

Steven should stop, right now. Go hide in the headspace, go to sleep and let you both have some privacy. Fuck, he's as naked as Marc is right now, he should feel exposed, have some god damn decency. But it’s like he’s stuck in place, staring in through the mirror as Marc rips you apart in ways he’s never dreamed to. It’s fucking addicting to watch the way your eyes roll back, the way your ass smacks back against Marc every time he shoves himself in, in, in. He reaches down to his bare cock and squeezes, unable to help it.

You’d only put this mirror up a week ago, and he hadn't even thought about the positioning of it. It’s placed on the wall right across from the foot of your bed, and fuck, he can see everything. He hadn’t noticed, hadn’t thought about this view when he had helped you set it straight, Marc coming into view in the reflection and smirking at Steven like he knew something he didn’t. Steven had brushed it off.

He shouldn’t have fucking brushed it off.

Because he’s sure, almost fucking positive, that Marc had somehow known. He’d known that Steven would watch, just like this, how Marc takes care of their girl. How he destroys you in ways that Steven can’t even think up on his own. It’s a special kind of torture, seeing you like this and not feeling it, not feeling you.

Marc’s thrusts are brutal, violent like the man himself. He treats you with so much care normally, Steven has seen it, but this isn’t gentle in the least. And you love it, crying out and drooling onto your sheets as Marc rips you to pieces, pulling you back onto his cock with thick fingers digging hard into your hips. He’s not sure how long he’s been watching intently, unable to tear his gaze away, when he sees Marc’s head snap up.

Looking right fucking at him.

Steven should go, disappear from the consciousness entirely, but it’s like he’s glued to the spot, his gaze locked with Marc’s. Marc’s thrusts don’t stutter, don’t stop, and you’re blissfully unaware as Marc watches Steven watch you.

Until Marc grins like the bastard he is, and leans down to mutter, just loud enough for Steven to hear, “Guess who’s here, gorgeous?”

“Wh-what?” you gasp through Marc’s unrelenting thrusts.

“He’s watching, baby,” Marc smiles, glancing up at Steven. “Just like you wanted.”

You wanted- you wanted? Steven’s breath catches in his throat, he’s pretty sure his heart stops fucking beating. 

“Steven,” you moan like it’s been punched out of you. “Steven’s here.”

“He’s watchin’ in that mirror you put up, sweetheart,” Marc says, “Watching me fuck you.” Steven is flushed beet-red, he knows it, but still, he watches. “Look at him, baby,” Marc growls, “Fucking look at him.”

Marc reaches up and curls a fist into your hair, tugging your head up to look straight into the mirror, straight at Steven. And God, you’re beautiful, tears falling down your face, your lips plump from the way you’ve been biting at them. You can’t see him, Steven knows that, but you look anyway, like you really can.

“She wanted this,” Marc snarls, and you clench your eyes shut, like you want to hide from Steven’s gaze. “She put that mirror up, hoping you’d watch like this. Wanted me to watch you both too, Steven.” You whine, and Marc’s thrusts seem to get even harder. “Our baby’s a little slut, just wants someone to watch her get fucked, isn’t that right, honey?”

“Your-” you gasp, staring into the mirror, like you’re talking to Steven, too. “Your slut, fuck, just yours.”

Marc fucking growls, his hips driving his cock into you. Steven can hear the way your pussy squishes around him, so wet you’re dripping down onto the sheets beneath you. Your body is covered in sweat, glinting in the light, practically glowing.

“Gonna let him fuck you after this, baby?” Marc grits, “Fucking whore for this cock, can’t get enough.” You slur a stream of yesyesyesyes as Marc reaches beneath you to start rubbing furiously at your clit, and you tremble beneath him.

“C’mon, gorgeous, cum for me.” Marc glances up at Steven. “Cum for both of us.”

Your eyes go wide, your mouth gaping open around a silent scream as you gush down Marc’s cock, body shaking as Marc fucks you through it, letting out a strangled groan of his own. Steven is hard as a fucking rock, straining against his stomach, begging for your touch. He watches as Marc thrusts deep and stills, his eyelids fluttering as he pumps you full of his cum.

You slump into the sheets, and Marc slides out of you, leaning down to kiss down your spine, muttering little praises of “such a good girl,” and “took it so well, looked so pretty,” into your skin. You roll onto your back, tugging Marc down to press a gentle kiss to his lips. Marc smiles against your mouth, and Steven feels that familiar pull to the front.

He shuts his eyes, and when he blinks them open again, you’re smiling up at him, reaching up to brush a reverent hand across his jaw.

“Enjoyed the show?” you whisper, and Steven can’t help the way he grins, the way his heart flutters.

“More than you know, darling,” he mutters, and leans to lick into your mouth. “Got to give Marc a show now, yeah?”

[hotwritergf]

Comfort item🧸

It has been a hell of a day. Early rise and a late finish, with maybe 5 minutes worth of a lunch break in between few cigarettes stops. Getting on the jet felt like finally being able to breathe. The unsub was caught, the case cracked, justice served. That’s what you signed up for. As you open your backpack in your seat, you rummage around in the depths of your bag, a deep sense of guilt and disappointment hitting the pit of your stomach.

You pale, realising you’d left your one comfort item at home.

The whole team had one, Reid had his blanket, Morgan his headphones and JJ a book to read. Yours was rather particular and could not be replaced, your stuffed animal, but he was more than that. He is an Eeyore plushie that you’ve been inseparable with since the day you received him as a birthday gift. Over the years he’d been ripped and sewn up, every time you pretended to give him anaesthetic for his surgery. He’d been with you, through all the nights you couldn’t sleep, the nights you’d cried yourself to sleep. He’d even shared the bed with your ex boyfriends, much to their dismay.

You knew this journey home without Eeyore would be a sleepless one.

"Hi."

Hotch slips himself into the seat next to you. He notices her sitting curled up on the seat and he can't help but notice how miserable you look, curling herself into a ball to almost hide from something.

"Are you doing okay?"

He asks, keeping his voice low to not disturb the others. You whisper in response, just muttering something about being tired.

"You look it. This was a tiring case. You should get some sleep."

He looks across to the others playing cards. Reid was almost definitely cheating again he assumed, as Morgan stared across the table with eyes like daggers, Emily’s head rested on his shoulder as she laughed at the confrontation in front of her.

"They'll probably keep going for a couple more hours if you can ignore them."

You pout, Hotch would be a safe person to share this problem with. He has a child so he’s definitely seen similar conundrums, maybe Jack wasn’t as much as of a baby as you are at the grown age of 22.

“I- I can’t sleep. Not without my Eeyore.”

You mutter under your breath, praying Aaron hears it. Admitting the fact again would be too embarrassing to endure.

He chuckles lightly at her choice of sleep companion.

"And your Eeyore toy is at home?"

He looks down at you, lifting your chin up with his thumb so you look him in the eye. You nod shyly in response, slipping into a nonverbal headspace.

Aaron looks sympathetic as she nods with a frowny face, but he still can’t resist teasing you.

"Aww, you miss your stuffed animal."

He smirks, making a little teasing remark. He matches his facial expression with yours, both modelling pouty frowns. Staring into each other’s eyes, you’re not sure how you started this game of getting the other to break the act and laugh. But you were certainly losing. Your lips curl up into a smirk and you let out a soft breathy giggle, your smile growing when he smirks back.

"Lie down then, come on."

Hotchner pats his lap, offering for her to rest her head on it. He adjusts his position so he's sat more comfortably and begins to gently run his calloused fingers through her hair, gently stroking it.

“This should help you fall asleep, hm?"

You feel the breath you’ve been accidentally holding release, your shoulders fall and for the first time all day you feel calm. You practically purr under his touch, smiling up and nodding at him.

Hotch glances down fondly as his hand continues to gently run through her hair.

"Good."

He lowers his voice to a hushed whisper as to not disturb the other members of the team who are a few seats down.

"You are adorable, you know that?"

You feel your cheeks burn under your new found blush, rolling your head inwards to hide your face in his stomach. You squeal internally, realising you’re basically putty in his hands.

"Hey, what's wrong, hm?"

He questions, still keeping his voice gentle as he glances back down at her, his arms wrapped around her in a tight yet still comfortable hug.

“Nothing.. I- I miss Eeyore, but this is nice too.”

You manage to blurt out, half in nervousness and the other in honesty.

“When you get home, you can tell Eeyore all about how brave you were on your adventure without him. And you’re right, this is nice. Sweet girl, just needed to cuddle up and get a few head scratches. It’s cute you know? It’s precious. Having a comfort item, it doesn’t make you weak.”

Hotch speaks earnestly, running his fingers through your outgrown fridge and tucking the hair behind your ear.

"And I, I'll happily keep doing this as long as it keeps you sleepy. It's kind of cute how much of a baby you are and how easy it is to send you to sleep with a gentle head rub.“

Aaron’s voice sounded like silk, so soft and calming. It makes your eyelids feel heavier until they close. It can’t be that bad to take a nap on your bosses lap, can it?

[wtfsteveharrington]

Please Carmy and a kiss to make the other believe professed feelings 

He needs love so bad 😭

a/n: carmen berzatto let us give you the affection you deserve!!

“Bear?”

It’s late and your voice cuts through the dark apartment, startling Carmen who had been standing in the living room and watching the minimal traffic go past. He glanced over his shoulder, giving you a small smile.

“You should be asleep.” He replies, shuffling a bit uncomfortably on his feet.

You pad across the hardwood floor, placing a soft touch to the back of his shoulder as a warning of your presence before wrapping your arms low around his waist. “Don’t sleep well without you.”

He huffs, knowing the feeling. One of his hands rests on top of yours, the other carding through his already messy hair. You can tell he has been up for a bit, you can feel how heavy his mind is. “Sorry.” He grumbles out, clearly trying to get himself in a better headspace for your sake.

“What’s going on, huh? You were fine when we were falling asleep… Have a bad dream?” Your voice is soft, genuinely inquisitive. Resting your head on his shoulder while you give him the space to decide what exactly was going on. His heartbeat isn’t steady and you fight the urge to frown at whatever’s got him so worked up.

After a moment he turns around in your arms, leaning back against the wall and bringing you against his chest. One hand’s under your jaw to make you look at him for just a moment before he changes to wrap both his arms around your shoulders. Keeping you close. “Just… Couldn’t sleep.”

You bite down on your bottom lip, letting your fingers sprawl open on his chest as you rub a soothing circuit. “Because I said I love you?”

It feels like the wind got sucked out of him.

Right before you fell asleep, you just couldn’t help but feel so safe, warm, so at peace in his arms. You’d inevitably get hot and roll away during the night, but for now the two of you were as close as possible and you wouldn’t change it. With heavy eyes and a steady breath it was mumbled into the night - One simple “I love you, Carmen.”

He thought he had heard you wrong. So he laid there, and laid there, and laid there until he couldn’t anymore and now… Here you are.

Your hands cup his jaw, giving him a warm smile. “Because I do love you.” Maybe it wasn't the most romantic way to say it for the first time, but it was impossible to deny anymore.

And God does he love you too.

There’s flashes of something you can’t quite place in his eyes and it makes your heart give a painful tug. He’s silent for a long moment before there’s a timid “Yeah?” falling from his lips.

You keep your hands on his face, brushing your thumbs along his cheekbones for a moment before leaning forward to let your lips connect. Soft, gentle, your chest pressed against his as you lean into you. His hands clutch at your body, as if he's scared to let you go and this will just wind up being some dream.

His mouth is warm, the minty taste of tooth paste still on his tongue from when he brushed his teeth. It pulls a hum of appreciation out of you as you lick into his mouth, your hands sliding back to tangle into his hair. You're mumbling into the kiss, "Love you so much, Carmy."

It causes him to finally pull back, a sheepish little smile on his face as he looks over your features. "I love you too. Have for awhile... Just was scared you didn't feel the same way."

A scoff threatens to sneak out. "Carmen Berzatto I fell in love the moment I laid eyes on you." There's something on the tip of his tongue but you don't take the chance of it being a rebuttal so you decide to lean in and press your lips together again. It works and soon you're tangled into this mess of slow, passionate kissing.

You tilt your head back, resting your forehead on his while your noses bump together and you both try to catch your breath. A moment passes before you give him one more kiss.

"Take me to bed and show me just how much you love me?"

[feyascorner]

Ok but what if tav is the hero of baldurs gate right, the god killer, slayer of the chosen three, savior of the emerald grove etc etc and after all that is told they had this incurable illness that the parasite had only slowed down. Now, with it gone, it’s progressing again and Tav can’t help but feel so stupid, weak even, that such a mighty hero could be struck by the weaknesses of their own body

Maybe pushes everyone away when they find out, too afraid to tell them that after everything they’ve been through after surviving all of that that they were going to die anyways

AND THEN ASTARIONS REACTION!!! Because surely he would not take that news sitting down (if he found out at all)

a/n. anon how did you know this type of prompt is exactly my cup of tea <33

It's not fair.

You did everything right. You saved the grove, the Tieflings, the Druids, the gnomes, the city, and even those who did not deserve saving, you always came to their aid. You've slayed gods, mind flayers, githyanki, even a bloody elder brain. And now, finally, after so long, with the brain having been defeated, and nothing but pure bliss occupying your headspace, you think you finally have time to relax.

Instead, you're reeled over the bathroom sink, eyes blurry from how much your body seems hellbent on making you miserable.

Ah, you remember. No matter what you've done for others, no matter what you've sacrificed, you're reduced to nothing but a sick patient. One that has no hope for a cure.

The months spent with little to do with your illness has left it to come back tenfold, and now all you can do is grovel on the bathroom floor, head in your hands as you understand that this is all you were meant to amount to. In the end, you were always destined to rot away by yourself and succumb to this gods forsaken disease. You are no hero. This is what you truly are---the pitiful remains of someone who longed for more.

The weeks following the defeat of the elder brain are filled with mournful streets for those who lost their lives and the joyous laughter of those who live on for them. Celebration--though it's difficult with half the taverns having collapsed in the battle--is not out of the ordinary. Strangers and friends alike come together every night, singing praises to whichever gods they worship. Your companions are no exception.

But each and every time, you deny their offers. You've become quite skilled at making up excuses about feeling tired, about having errands to run, or having loose ends to tie up. In reality, you're a coward. Despite the trust they put in you, you cannot provide it back--not in matters like this. Not when you've all been through so much, just for your own journey to amount to nothing.

It's not like you haven't known about this disease. You knew your death was imminent. But now, after experiencing just a fraction of what life has to offer, you no longer want to let go.

It's just not fair.

For what seems to be the millionth time this week, you hear someone knock at your door. Whichever one of your companions it is, you don't bother taking a step from your bed, face still planted into your sheets. You don't have the energy to move, and the useless healing herbs scattered across the room don't exactly hide your secret. So instead of standing, you bury your face deeper into your bed.

"You can't stay in there forever."

You flinch as you realize it's a voice you've dreaded hearing. One that invokes so much love yet fear as you remember that if you see him right now, it might be your last. And you don't want that. Not at all.

"I don't know what we've done to make you push us away like this," he says through the door, and your fist tightens in front of your chest. "But this is getting ridiculous, darling. You have to come out eventually."

You remain silent.

"Gods, just--" he stops, and you can hear the hesitance in his voice. You swear it almost cracks a little. "--Have I done something wrong?"

At this, you're suddenly on your feet, rushing to push yourself against the door, but unwilling to open in. "No, Astarion, you haven't done anything wrong. Don't you dare think that way."

You can hear him shift. "Then why do you avoid me? The others, I can understand, but me?...I mean, I thought we were more than that..."

"We are, it's just..."

"Just what?"

The final thread of your resolve snaps, and you reach toward your lock. Your hand falters for a moment, but you eventually open the door slowly. And if the way his face falls tells you anything, you must look absolutely dreadful.

"Oh, my sweet, what's happened to you?" he whispers, his eyes widening even more when he sees the mess of your home behind you. The clothes all over the floor, the blinds shut despite there being no sunlight to shield from, the healing potions and herbs messily tossed around...you'd feel ashamed if you weren't so tired already.

"...Are you sick?" he steps inside, taking his time to take in the state of what you call home. When you don't answer, he whips around to you, alarmed. "You're sick. Is it a cold? Flu?"

You shake your head, sick of having to lie to the one person you don't want to deceive. "It's a long story."

"I'm undead, darling. I have all the time in the world."

"It's not a very nice story."

"If I wanted a nice story, I'd be listening to a bard someplace else," he says, and you feel your eyes bubble with tears as he steps closer. "What's happened?"

The words spill out like vomit, and you're soon telling him what's been weighing on you for so long. You find yourself sliding down to the ground, and he goes with you, letting you grasp desperately at the sleeves of his shirt while you tell him everything. You can barely breathe with how fast your talking but you're afraid you won't say everything if you get any slower. The entire time, he just stares at you, his arms circled around you, and only when you're done does his gaze finally flicker.

"...Surely, there must be a cure." He's suddenly glancing around the entire room, at pieces of herbs. "Surely, at least one of these would--"

"None of them work, Astarion."

"Then we can find the finest healers in the city--we can even go back to that damn druid, and ask him."

"I've tried."

"Well, you haven't tried hard enough, obviously, if you haven't found a bloody cure!"

You give him one hard look--one with dark bags under your eyes and a weariness that stretches on for weeks--and his temper seems to cool. His shoulders slump, but he reaches for your hand, rubbing his thumb against your skin. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I just felt so weak," you whisper. "I didn't want you to think that too."

Immediately, his eyes harden, and he takes both sides of your face in his hands. "No. I don't think you're weak, and that's not going to change. You've proven yourself more than I can count, and I know you enough to know that you can't let it end like this, love. You can't leave like this."

"Astarion..."

He shakes his head. "I won't let this take you from me. There have been too many opportunities for us to lose each other, and we've overcome them all. We'll just do it again. We'll go to the most skilled healers in Faerun. We'll go to all of them if we have to, and we'll start tomorrow."

You can feel yourself tear up again, and he kisses your tears away while you sob in his arms.

"I'll save you," he mumbles against your temple. "Even if it's the last thing I do."

[tateshifts]

MATTHEO RIDDLE ⋆｡˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ dr headcanons pt 1

✮ . . . mattheo is so tall, in my dr he is 6”5?? no clue why bc tom (his father) seems so short :/

✮ . . . he’s a capricorn born on jan 7th; he is the definition of a capricorn!! with a scorpio moon and gemini sun 𖤐

✮ . . . this also explains why he is an extrovert. this man could talk for england.. he doesn’t know when to stfu and sometimes it gets him into trouble LMAO

✮ . . . as much as he gives off the “idc” vibes he 100% does care for his friends and them only. in group settings he can be an absolute dick to anyone for no reason other than his mood. but if you’re alone you see a very different side to him.

✮ . . . when he opened up to me the first time i shifted, i was shocked at how good he was at communicating ? i always thought he wouldn’t be good at that sort of stuff BUT I WAS SO WRONG

✮ . . . mattheo would go to hell and back for his friends, it’s the closest he’s ever had to a real family; especially theodore, they are both so close, almost brothers from the way they help and provide for one another

✮ . . . anyways; he’s practising electric guitar atm, well he says he is but it’s literally collecting dust in the corner LMAO. he gets bored easily esp if things don’t go his way (e.g. learning guitar in a day)

✮ . . . if there’s anything he can’t say out loud he will write it down in his diary (he calls it a journal bc a ‘diary seems girly’?)

✮ . . . he does draw like marcus lopez (deadly class). literally anything aesthetic he sees, he draws. he gets into this headspace where he won’t acknowledge anyone whilst drawing, he zones out and completely ignores me. i want to burn the book.

✮ . . . deadpool!mattheo riddle omg. i would die.

part 2 here

thanks for reading ❦｡･:*:･ﾟ follows, likes & reblogs are appreciated x

[angelsleepinggurl]

𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐥𝐬

cw: fingering in a library

.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧

it’s pathetic to say but books seem to be the only friend you’ve been capable of making at high school. it doesn’t bother you as much as it used to, who would want to befriend lying, back-stabbing, drama-causing bitches? you simply didn’t have time to deal with that anyway. the only thing in mind is your dream school, waiting for you arms outstretched and all. you find yourself in the library yet again, past school hours, deciding to hole yourself up in the silent room until closing hours, then studying more in the comfort of your own room. exciting friday evening!

frustrated, you puff as you get stumped by another question. today simply isn’t your day and you can’t understand why not. everything seems to be going the same. unless-

your thoughts are interrupted by a familiar figure strolling over to you, sporting the usual bedhead and that infuriatingly lazy smirk. of course.

kuroo tetsurou drags the chair out from beside you and sits on it backwards, as if that was somehow charming. what, is this supposed to be sexy? "hey, princess," he drawls, looking at you through his raven-black hair, his voice slow and syrupy. you respond with nothing more than a glare and a pointed nod toward the 'silence in the library' sign above your head. "no one follows that stupid rule," he says, deadpan. you roll your eyes and pointedly shift in your seat, turning your back to him. "aw, don’t be like that," he purrs, his tone almost teasing but as lazy as ever. there's something catlike about the way kuroo moves and talks like he’s never in a rush. every word seems deliberate, almost annoyingly slow. "i just wanna have a little fun," he whispers, leaning in, his face far too close for comfort.

you can practically feel the smugness radiating off him. and of course, he’d choose now to be a distraction. an unfamiliar hand circles the flesh around your knee, the owner of that hand grins at you, chin resting in his hand. you slap it away, not tolerating any of his nonsense. “fine.” he says in surrender, arms lifting off. “i won’t get up to anything. you would sigh in relief but you know better than that. “but can i just…” the same sneaky hand back on your exposed leg, thumb gently rubbing circles on the soft skin. “keep it here. to keep you company. and mostly because i can.” this makes you loosen up.

right. your autonomy has been stripped from you.

you turn to face your books properly, deciding to delve into your material again, maybe this time you’d focus better. “good girl, see that wasn’t so hard.”

silence envelops the both of you as it’s meant to be, and it’s fine. he really isn’t bothering you, the problem is your sensitivity. you’ve realised that your fogged-up mind was due to your lack of release. a kuroo being here, his hand shifting higher and higher, every occasional grope being tighter than the last has you subconsciously squeezing your legs together. you’re hoping he won’t notice, especially as you keep switching legs to cross and avoiding squeezing your thighs together but soon it's evident on your face and how you’ve not picked up your pen after 5 whole minutes. you’re sitting staring holes into your maths book, hoping you don’t make as much of a twitch to give him the wrong signal. a signal on which he picks up.

“don’t stop because of me, really. i’m just here to watch you work is all.” you can’t even snap back at him as you’re focusing on no sounds slipping past your lips. “but,” he says carefully, leaning close. if you need to ever ‘let lose’ you know who to come to. i mean I'm not a study expert like you, but i do know… that if you’re not in the right headspace, then it’s hard to remember what you’ve learnt. i may know a few ways to help unwind. say the word and i’m yours.”

“ohh.” it’s quiet when you succumb to him, allowing this. but you can’t help it, you feel pent up and your mind isn’t thinking clearly.

“i’ll take that.”

you’re gonna hate yourself for this.

“make it quick.” you snap, readjusting your sitting angle to allow room for his hand.

“oh honey, i don’t rush my work.” he informs you, eyes locking with yours as he looks up.

great.

“what if we-”

“get caught?” he finishes, tearing his gaze away from your legs and to you. “don’t worry, i know that one of your big concerns, that won’t happen. unless you can’t keep your mouth shut.” with a slow hand, he lifts the fabric of your skirt, cold air rushing further up your legs. “you really are a soaker. look at that.” he exclaims, the only time his eyes seem to widen as he soaks in the sight of your drenched cunt, wetting your panties.

usually, you would feel a flush of embarrassment but the need the need to come is stronger. cautiously, kuroo slips his fingers down the undergarment, the gentle pads of his fingers reaching your clit. you sigh softly as with gentle rubs he soothes your stress. you place your hands around his arm, which seems to be working its magic as you’re finding it difficult to sit still in your chair. you see him wanting to tease you about your inability to stop squirming, which he bites back upon seeing your targeted stern look. you’re actively pushing down moans in the silent library, the only sound is chairs shuffling, pages rustling and pens rolling. not the sound of a girl having her pussy played with when anyone could come in and spot the two students in the act, getting them expelled.

but it’s all too thrilling. maybe for kuroo more than you. he doesn't notify you when his fingers slip from your sensitive bud and down into your throbbing cunt. you instinctively squeeze your thighs together, the sensations getting stronger and making it harder for you to control yourself. it’s almost as if kuroo is chasing the high himself, the way his fingers pump and curl so rhythmically, fingertips brushing against your g-spot every so often. “shh baby, we don’t wanna get caught now do we?” purrs in your ear, clearly enjoy how flustered he’s making you and how powerful you make him feel. you close your eyes and drop your head back, rather than focusing on not riding his fingers subtly. “don’t need to hold back on my account, you can ride em if you wanna.” kuroo’s laser-sharp focus and attentivity to subtle details like that almost freak you out. as if he’s almost watching. “come on princess ik you want it.” he says with a smile, that you can feel on your cheek. pressed against it and feeling defeated as his smug grin boasts itself in your face. you almost have half a mind to push him off and leave, but in that way, you don’t get satisfied, you don’t release, you don’t win. “there’s a good girl.” he hums as you give into your corporeal desires, and start rolling your hips towards him. you hate you admit it, but he is damn good. he knows how to work those fingers.

your hair falls in front of your face again as you lean it forward, feeling the pressure build-up within you faster than usual, your sweet release seems to be approaching much more hurriedly. £fuck I'm close I'm gonna come.” you pant out breathlessly, still aware to keep your voice down.

“i know, i know, i can tell. i’ll make you come real soon.” his lips attach to your jaw as he kisses along it. £fuck you’re tight.” he states, removing his lips from you and focusing on speeding up and working his fingers faster, thrusting harder. now the chair is squeaking against the floor and your heart is racing, from fear, excitement and pure bliss of all the sensations blurred into one. kuroo places a large hand over your mouth, covering it firmly as he feels your high approaching. it takes a few more seconds before you’re squealing muffled squeals into his palm, closing your eyes and pointing your toes. “ cumming all over my finger like that, didn’t take you for a messy girl.” his fingers are drenched in your arousal and neediness. dripping in pure out as he peels his hand away slowly. drinking in the sight of your puffed-out state, trying desperately to silently catch your breath in the library. your composure is lost as you place your hand on the edge of your chair to keep yourself upright, hair slightly sticking to your face and legs still in the air as you come down. “messy girl,” he coos. “this is no way to leave the school, don’t want your cum ruining the carpet now do we, open wide.” you follow his instructions without a second thought, your mouth opening wide on command as his fingers invade it. you suck without being told to, your tongue swirling around his digits as you look up at him with your larger doe eyes.

“there’s a good girl. hey fun idea, wanna take this to the table? i can think fo a couple ways to make you cum faster.” you deadpan at his suggestion. your face does not even crinkle in the slightest to show the least bit of amusement.

“was that supposed to be funny? that’s no funny. please leave now, you’re disrupting our silence.”

“the only thing disturbing the silence was your loud ass pussy, but whatever you say princess.” he shrugs,

⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲

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𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫…

[darksigns-exe]

dors encore jusqu'au jour où tout ira bien* - noah sebastian x f!reader

*sleep on until the day when all is well

warnings: Swearing, discussions of mental health, depression, burnout and relationship issues

word count: 5.9k

note: This is a hefty one. It gets very angsty in certain parts, but if you know me, you know that I cannot bring myself to write a bad ending. Regardless of that, please think of yourself first and feel free to sit out on this one if you’re not in the headspace to dip into almost 6k of angst. Thank you to @deathblacksmoke and @circle-with-me for your feedback <3

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You’re not sure when it happened. 

It feels like one day everything was fine and the next he’s pushing his dinner across the plate as if it’s the most revolting thing he’s ever seen. 

You’ve never seen Noah like this. 

Sure, he gets quite sometimes. He has days when he locks himself behind the door of the studio and only emerges to eat and to take a bathroom break. 

This is different, though. 

When you think about it, you can’t remember the last time you’ve seen him smile or heard him laugh. You’re sure that it can’t have been long, surely you haven’t missed him tumbling into his hole. 

You don’t realise how bad it actually is until he starts to miss appointments, until you have to convince him to get out of bed just to have breakfast with you. He retreats back into the safety of your bedroom as soon as he’s finished with what you know to be too little food. You know that he’s only coming downstairs for your sake. And somehow that makes it worse. 

You sit in silence for a long while on that morning. You’ve watched him wither for too long already. And maybe that’s why you call Nick that morning, hoping that he can give you some kind of insight. Nick has all the answers, he always knows. 

He doesn’t this time. 

All he can offer is what you already know. 

Knowing Noah, he’ll be resistant to help until it's almost too late. Still, you make your way up the stairs towards your shared bedroom. They feel impossibly long today. It’s not like you’re going to break horrible news to him, but you know your boyfriend well enough to know that he’ll deny that anything is wrong. He’ll insist that everything is just fine, even when you both know that the exact opposite is the truth. 

The worst thing, you think, is that you don’t know why he feels like this. You’ve tried to ask him if he’s looking forward to the shows, to playing the new songs, but all you ever got in response was a half-hearted shrug. Watching him lose all passion for the thing he loved had broken a little piece inside of you.

You knock on the door before you crack it open just a little bit. 

“Noah?” you ask softly, not sure if he’s still awake or if sleep had already taken him over again.  

No reply. 

You force yourself through the crack in the door and close it as quietly as you can. He’s curled up on his side, turned away from the door. The sight breaks your heart even more. His body moves with slow breaths, and you’re still not sure if he’s awake or not. 

You sit on the edge of the bed behind him. You place your hand on his back, and he jumps at the touch, shrinking further away from you. 

“You don’t have to say anything. I don’t know what’s going on in your head, love, but I’m here.” you can’t stop the tears from falling as you speak, “I don’t know how to help you, but we need to do something. I’m worried about you.”

He stays silent, but you can feel him draw in a deep breath under your palm. 

“Nick thinks that you should think about cancelling the shows.” 

You regret it as soon as you’ve said it. 

The look on his face when he finally turns to look at you hurts more than anything else. The anger that suddenly radiates from him makes scoot back from him instantly.

“And why the fuck would I do that? This is none of your business. I don’t go around telling you how to do your job, do I?” he seethes, “You have nothing to be worried about.”

“You’re obviously not well. I’m just trying to help.” you reply, feeling awfully helpless. 

Noah sits up, his back still turned to you. 

“If you think you know me so well, you should know that I’m fine. And I don’t need your help, either. Maybe you should find someone else to pity.” 

He’s out of the room before you can say another word. Deep down, you know that the anger isn’t real. You don’t know what has its claws in him, but you know that it’s bad. 

You don’t know where he disappears to after that. 

The studio is empty, and his keys have disappeared from the little chest of drawers by the door. A part of you wants to abandon him then and there. If he wants to soak in his misery, let him. But at the same time, you know that he needs you more than ever now, even if he isn’t ready to see that yet. 

You get a text from Jolly not long after that, letting you know that Noah showed up at his door looking all kinds of messed up. He lets you know that he’s out cold on the sofa for the time being, but that there needs to be a conversation before long. 

Jolly drops of a clearly miserable Noah the following morning. 

“You should shower before they get here.” Jolly says curtly as Noah disappears up the stairs once again. 

You both watch in silence as he disappears into the bathroom, and you let out a sigh when you hear the shower turn on. Without asking, you’re wrapped into a tight hug and finally the tears you’ve been holding back all day break free from you. 

“I talked to him.” he says, still holding you close, “I think he understood. The Nicks will be here in a bit, and we’ll talk about cancelling the shows.”

“Thank you.” you mumble into the fabric of his shirt. 

He gives you another squeeze before releasing you from the hug, “How are you doing? I know this has to be hard on you too.” 

You do feel a little bit bad for pouring your heart out to him like this, but it feels good to finally talk to someone besides yourself about any of this. 

Before long, your conversation is interrupted by the bathroom door opening again. You think Noah resembles a wet puppy more than he does a man, and it makes you feel impossibly bad for him. He stands at the top of the stairs, wrapped into one of the hoodies you know he likes, watching you intently. His hands wring together nervously, brow furrowed so deeply that you’re sure that it aches a little. You excuse yourself and swiftly come up to meet Noah. 

“Can we talk?” he asks quietly, barely managing to meet your eyes, “I want to apologise.”

You follow him into your bedroom.

Noah sits down at the foot of your bed. You sit next to him, a hands' width away from. 

“What I said — that was not okay. I shouldn’t have said that.” he remains focused on his still fidgeting hands, “I’m really sorry.”

The way he’d looked at you a day earlier still lingered in your mind, and even though you know that he didn’t actually mean what he said, you can’t help but feel hurt. 

“I know you are. I know you didn’t mean what you said. It still hurt.” you reach for his hands, interlacing yours with one of his, “But we’ll be okay. I just need you to talk to me. I don’t know what to do if you don’t talk to me.” 

Noah squeezes your hand just a little bit, “I’m sorry that I let it get this bad.”

You pull him into your arms and Noah folds almost instantly. His head drops to your shoulder. The fabric of your shirt grows a little damp, and the silent sob that shakes through his body makes your chest ache. 

The other two arrive within the next thirty minutes, with Folio running a little late because he once again misjudged the time it would take him to get to your place. You stay in the living room while they talk in the kitchen, despite Noah’s protest. As much as you want to sit with him and hold his hand, you know that he has to do this on his own. In the end, the conclusion is that the shows need to be cancelled so that Noah will have some kind of chance to recuperate. You overhear his quiet admission that maybe he has piled a little bit too much onto his plate, that he’s tried to do too much in too little time. You know that all he’s ever wanted was to see this band do well, and when they finally got that, he’d done everything he needed to make sure that they’d stay up there. And now, in retrospect, you know that you should have tried to do something earlier. 

Hindsight is evil like that. 

The three of them don’t stay for dinner. Nick stays for a while longer, but you can tell that Noah longs for the house to be quiet again. And he practically falls into your lap as soon as you’ve sat down next to him again. Your fingers card through his hair, just how he likes it, while you sit in silence. He falls asleep a little while later. His brow remains furrowed, and you can easily tell that he’s clenching his jaw. You let Noah rest like this for a while, before you carefully slip out from under him. He stirs a little, blinking up at you with drowsy eyes. You kneel down next to him, placing your hand against his cheek. 

“I’m gonna order us something for dinner. How do you feel about Korean?” 

His expression only changes minimally. 

“We can get whatever you want.” Your thumb drifts across his cheek, “But you need to eat something, darling.”

You end up heating up a portion of frozen tomato soup for each of you. You’re sure that you see a faint trace of a smile on his face when you place the grilled cheese in front of him. 

For the first time in weeks, you think that things are looking up. 

Despite your best efforts, you watch him sink deeper and deeper into this hole. He’s distant, drifting along as days pass and turn into weeks, and you feel as if there’s nothing that you can do to make it better. You’ve managed to convince him to see Ash at least once a week, but even that had felt like an uphill battle. You feel awful for making him leave the house when he so evidently doesn’t want to do that. At the same time, it feels like the only thing you can do besides holding him close when it gets so bad that he wakes in the middle of the night, body shaking with bitter sobs that sear right through you. 

You know that you can’t force Noah to talk. But at the same time you wish that he’d at least divulge a little bit of what is going on in his head, maybe that way you could do more. 

You think that he’s coming up on the other side when you find him in his studio one afternoon. It isn’t until you actually step inside the room that you notice his face buried in his hands. In a split second, you find yourself kneeling at his side. At first, he doesn’t move, remains stuck as he is. 

“Talk to me, Noah. Please.” You plead, placing your hand on him as best as you can with this weird angle, “I want to help, but I don’t know what you need if you don’t talk to me.”

Reluctantly, he swivels the chair towards you, allowing him to somewhat drape himself over you. The silent tears break your heart even further. You’ve seen him cry before, more in recent weeks than ever before, but this feels different. He sinks down in front of you, utterly broken down. And all you can do is hold him close, whispering soothing things to him. You don’t know if your words even reach his conscious mind, but maybe they sink into him somewhere, maybe deep down they find a home in him. 

“It doesn’t work. I can’t do it any more.” He whispers after some time. 

Your fingers card through his hair, trying to get him to look at you, but Noah resists, keeping his face pressed against your shoulder. 

“What doesn’t work?” You ask softly. 

Instead of giving you an answer, he throws a hesitant look towards the still opened editing software on his monitor. 

“Oh darling.” You sigh, wrapping him even tighter into your embrace.

“This is all I have.” He says feebly, “This is who I am.”

“Noah.”

He pulls away just a little bit. The only way you can describe the look on his face is panicked. 

“What am I going to do if I can’t do the one thing I’m good at any more? I — I don’t know what I’m going to do.” He hiccups in between words, and it’s evident that he’s barrelling towards a panic attack, “I can’t lose this.”

He descends into rambling, chest heaving frantically, and for a second you feel so very helpless. It doesn’t matter what you say, your words won’t reach him, no amount of it’ll be okay can fix this, and it hurts so terribly. 

You place your hands on the sides of his face, forcing him to look at you as a last ditch effort. 

“Look at me, Noah.” You’re not sure where you find the energy to be this firm with him, “I need you to listen to me now, okay? I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, no matter what happens. The guys aren’t going anywhere. The band isn’t going anywhere. Whatever happens, we’re all here. Your friends are here, and we love you so much. It doesn’t matter how much time you need. We’ll all be here when you’re ready. And even if that’s in a month or a year. And if it gets worse, and you never get there again, we’ll still be here. No one is going to leave. I won’t leave.” 

He’s quieted down to sniffles by then. His cheeks are so awfully red and splotchy, and you don’t think that you’ve ever seen him look more exhausted before. 

“I know this is scary. And I know that we can make it through this, but I need you to talk to me. Watching you suffer through this in silence hurts a lot. I feel so helpless watching you fall apart like this.”

“I’m just so scared of losing all of this.” The admission comes so quietly, “What if we can’t keep up with the demand? What if we can’t —“

“What happened to doing whatever you want regardless of how it’ll sell?” You reach for his hand instead, “I know this sudden rise felt good, but this is not sustainable. You can’t spend months on the road, barely sleeping, just so you can keep up with all of this. This — the band, the fans, the music wouldn’t be here without you. All of you.”

You squeeze his hand tightly. 

“We’ll figure this out, Noah.” You press a kiss to the back of his still trembling hand, “I promise.”

He lets out a heavy breath, folding in on himself just a little bit. 

“I’m sorry that you have to deal with this.” He sighs. 

“I would do it over and over again. As often as I have to. And I know that you’d do the same for me.” 

Noah’s the one who brings up the idea of a vacation. He doesn’t make a direct suggestion, but you find a print out of an Airbnb in Oregon on the kitchen table one morning, and that’s good enough for you. You’re glad for any kind of active participation he’s willing to give. It’s been a difficult few weeks, but you think that he’s starting to feel a little better. On some days, you think that he’s almost back on top. He’s all smiles and sweet words, just to fall back down the next day. It’s a slow climb, but you’re moving forwards. 

Oregon will be nice. 

The drive is nice, albeit awfully long. Noah had admitted that he didn’t feel good enough to drive, and you’re glad that he’s able to see what he is and isn’t ready for. He seems to be quite comfortable navigating and selecting music, though. You don’t say anything when you hear him humming along to one of the songs, afraid that it’ll make him shrink back into his shell. Hearing his dumb little laugh at a street sign reading Weed gives you a little bit of hope. 

In the months since Noah had been at home, the intimate side of your relationship had been practically non-existent. For a while you’d felt as if you were living with a friend rather than your boyfriend of three years. Noah had never one to shy away from intimacy, your relationship had always been interlaced with soft touches and kisses. To watch him recoil at your touch had been incredibly hurtful, even when you knew - or rather hoped - that it was only a momentary thing. 

By the time your first week in Oregon is almost over, you dare to let your hands wander across his chest once again. It’s strangely foreign. You’d been so used to touching him like this, and now it almost feels as if you have relearn everything again. 

You’ve laid awake for the past hour. He looks much more relaxed now compared to some weeks earlier. The persistent furrow in his brow is slowly easing, and his sleep seems to be a little more restful. 

You do feel a little bad for disturbing his much-needed rest, but you can’t help yourself. He looks so beautiful in the warm morning light falling through the open sliver in the curtains. 

Your fingers trail across the streak of light that runs across his tummy and chest. The muscles twitch beneath your touch, but he doesn’t quite stir yet. You try to keep your touch as gentle as you can. Noah only wakes when your fingers brush against his hip. He stretches, letting you a soft noise as he does. There’s no protest when you trace up the length of his side. He’s still so sleepy, eyes all soft and warm, and you absolutely have to kiss him. 

He leans into your hand when you place it against his cheek. You draw him in for a kiss for what feels like the first time in months. It’s so gentle and chaste, barely there, but it seems to ignite something in Noah. A second later you find yourself on your back, with him hovering above you. One of your hands drifts along his back, before it settles at his waist, guiding him towards you. 

It’s over as quickly as it has started. 

“I can’t.” He says quietly, forehead once again dropped against your shoulder. 

“It’s okay, honey. We don’t have to.” You soothe, carefully threading your fingers into his hair, “We can just have a little cuddle instead.”

“I can’t.” He looks absolutely miserable when he detaches himself from you, “It doesn’t work. This is so fucking embarrassing.”

You realise then when he means. The agony and embarrassment on his face make you wish that you could just magic it all away. 

You want him back, not just for yourself but because you can see that this is torture for him too. 

“I’m sorry.” Noah adds quietly, “I’m — I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

You don’t let go of him though and his efforts to leave are quickly squashed when he flops back down next to you. 

“Can you look at me for a moment, Noah?” He meets your eyes so hesitantly. 

He almost looks as if he’s just waiting to be told what a disappointment he is and somehow that hurts even more. 

“It’s okay. I’m not upset, and I don’t think less of you because of it. It’ll come back.” You say earnestly, hoping that he’ll take at least some of it to heart, “You’re still my boyfriend and I love you so much regardless of what you can or can’t do at the moment. I know you love me, you don’t have to sleep with me to show that.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, eyes flitting across your face nervously, before he settles into the slightest hint of a content smile. 

“I don’t deserve you.” 

“You do. You deserve to be treated with love and respect, especially when you need it most.” 

“I just wish that I could give some of it back.”

“You have. And in time you will again. But right now, it’s my turn to make sure that you know that you’re safe and loved.” 

His expression changes into something you can’t quite place yet. Maybe it’s realisation, maybe it’s relief, or a mixture of both. 

Noah shifts a little closer to you, taking your hands into his, “Thank you. You’ve been so patient with me.”

“Of course. It’ll always be you and me, okay? We’ve gotten through so much, we’ll get through this, too. You’ve already come so far, and I’m so proud of you.”

At the end of your second week, you’d called the owners to extend your stay for another week. Being away from home like this was good for him and if he needed a little more time here then so be it. You could thankfully afford that luxury. 

You find him furiously scribbling in a notebook when you come back from the store one afternoon. You couldn’t remember if he’d brought one of his or if he’d borrowed yours, but whatever had sprung into his mind was important enough for him to need to get it onto paper immediately. You watch him from the doorway for a moment, not wanting to disturb him just yet. Instead, you bring the rest of your shopping into the house as quietly as you can. Noah comes to meet you at the door just as you bring in the last bag.

“You’re back quick.” he states somewhat blankly. 

“Didn’t want you to be alone for too long.” you reply, tossing the pack of toilet roll towards him, “Can you get one of the bags?” 

His face turns down into a frown, before he reaches for one of the bags and marches off into the depths of the house. 

As much as his overall mood has improved, it’s still so changeable. The smallest thing tips him off and you either end up at each other's throats or with you cradling him in your arms while he tries to quiet down his tears. You’re so tired of the fighting, though. You don’t mind doing this for him, in fact you do it gladly, but sometimes it exhausts you. The boys had been your greatest crutch, checking in with you once in a while to make sure you were also taking care of yourself, and you are more than grateful for it. All three of them had been so incredibly supportive in their own ways. As soon as you’d mentioned that you were heading up to Oregon for a bit, Folio had sent you link after link with recommendations of things to do and look at. You hadn’t had the heart to tell him that you were glad if you’d get Noah to sit outside with you in the evenings. You had eventually managed to convince Noah to go on little walks with you, just to get him out of the house and moving a little bit. In the end, he had been the one who had dragged you out of the door in the morning so that you could get to that one nice spot before the tourists got there. 

Noah is nowhere to be seen when you enter the kitchen. The bags are haphazardly placed in front of the counter, with no sight of him anywhere. 

Your call of his name remains unanswered. 

When you don’t see him on the bench out on the back porch, you make your way through the house, checking various rooms until you find him once again sequestered away in the bedroom. 

“Baby?” you ask softly, “Everything okay?” 

Noah makes a somewhat indignant sound then, and you swear that you see him rolling his eyes. 

“Noah.” 

“You can stop babying me. I’m not incapable of living without you.” he shoots back, “You don’t need to hound me all day. I’ll be fine.” 

“I just want to –” 

He scoffs, “I know you just want to help. And why do you think I need your help? I’m not – I don’t need you to pity me.” 

The first tears fall before your jaw has the chance to tremble. 

You try not to listen to the bitter words he hurls at you. They slowly chip away at your confidence. 

“I’m not some lost puppy you need to take care of.” 

Somehow, that’s your last straw. 

“You know what, Noah. I’m sorry for putting my life on the back burner for you. I’m sorry that I tried to help the man I love.” you turn on your heels, leaving the room before he can throw more vitriol your way. 

Your feet carry outside and down the pathway towards the river. Your chest feels so awfully tight. There’s only so much you can take, and hearing him discredit everything you’ve done for him feels as if he’s struck a sword straight through your chest. You collapse on the low bench in front of the firepit you haven’t had the chance to use yet. As much as you try to convince yourself that he doesn’t actually mean what he said, you can’t quite bring yourself to do so. The anger on his face seemed so real. Maybe you had gone a little overboard with your care. All you had wanted was for him to feel better, you had never meant to overstep. 

It feels so heartbreaking. 

Out of all the fights you’ve had recently, this one feels the most devastating. Although, you’re not even sure if you can call this a fight. 

You don’t know if you can come back from this. 

The longer you sit in silence, the worse the feeling gets. Somehow, you had hoped that he’d come out and find you, that he’d try to fix it. Instead, you’re out here on your own, shivering as the air gets colder and colder. You’re not sure how long you’re out here, but no matter how much you try, you can’t will yourself to head back inside. 

The call of your name barely reaches you, not even the orb of the torch you’d brought two days into your stay makes you look up. It’s only when his figure crouches in front of you, hands desperately smoothing along your shoulders and face. 

“You’re freezing.” his voice trembles when he speaks, “Fuck, I’m so sorry.” 

His sweater is draped across your shoulders, his warmth sinks into you almost immediately. 

Noah’s hands curl around yours, holding them just a little bit too tightly. He’s shaking like a leaf. It’s too dark to make out the intricacies of his face, but the fear is obvious. 

“I– I couldn’t find you inside. I didn’t know where you’d gone.” the words rush from his mouth so quickly that he stumbles across a few of them, “I’m so sorry. Let’s get you inside. Please, my love.” 

When you don’t immediately move, his forehead drops to your knees, hands tucked under him so that he can press his lips to your palms. 

“I wish I could take it all back. I’m such an ass. Fuck, you do so much for me and I can’t even say thank you for it.” another kiss to your palms, “Please come inside with me. I don’t want you to get ill because of me.” 

Noah rises to his feet, slowly pulling you with him. 

His hand remains wrapped around yours, as if he’s scared that you’ll vanish again. Through the open sliding door, you can already smell what you think is a pasta bake. Nothing fancy, but he always manages to whip up something good and warming for you. 

He ushers you towards the table, making you sit down on one of the chairs. Within a moment, he places a somewhat cooled cup of tea in your hands. 

“I thought that you’d gone to the other bedroom and I – I feel so bad that I never checked. I just wanted to give you space after all of that and – and now this.” he sits on the chair next to you, hands writhing in his lap, “I don’t know how I can fix this. What I said – I keep fucking up. You’ve given up so much for me, and this is what I do in return. I can’t take it back. I said all of that, and I know that it was incredibly hurtful. But if there’s some way that you’ll forgive me – it doesn’t matter what you need from me – I’ll do it. But if you need me to –” he swallows back tears and maybe that’s when you realise how serious is about this, “If you need me to leave I will. I can be gone by tomorrow if you want that.” 

“Don’t leave.” your voice feels so rough, so shaky, “Please.” 

The tears that roll down his cheek feel so loud when then drop onto the hardwood below your feet. 

“I won’t.” his hands find yours once more, “We can fix this. I don’t want to feel like this any more, but – I need you. I don’t know if I can do it on my own.”

You look at your joined hands. You’ve always thought that they fit together so perfectly, two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle made exactly for each other. There’s no one else who fits you like he does. Sure, you could try and jam two pieces together, but it’ll never be right like this. 

“I told you that I’ll always be here, didn’t I?” you say, still looking at where his hands flex around yours, “I meant that. I don’t know if I could love anyone else.” 

His lips press together so tightly that the colour flees from them. 

“We’ve come too far to give up on this now, Noah. We’ll figure this out, but we need to be better – both of us.”

“I know.” he casts his eyes low, “When we’re back home I’m gonna get myself back into therapy. I promise you that I’ll get myself back on my feet.” 

You free one of your hands from his grasp, so that you can bring it up to his cheek, “We can make it through this. We’ll be alright.” 

Noah eyes you for a moment before he finally speaks up, “Can – can I kiss you?” 

Even if you wanted to, you can’t stop the smile from breaking onto your face, “Please.” 

He surges forward then, pressing his lips to yours so sweetly. He cradles your face in his hands, keeping you close to him until you’re both breathless. 

“I love you, but I think your pasta is about to burn.” you whisper after a few more blissful moments. 

Noah jumps up with a swear, and for the first time in months you can see his previous self break through this shell. 

There’s a tentative plan for the band to return to the stage in late January, giving you another two – almost three months – of this quiet life. Sometimes you think that Noah feels quite comfortable being just a boyfriend and not a trillion other things on top of it. Every day he rises a little easier, seems a little more secure in himself again. Slowly but surely the music returns into his life, and before long he’s pushing his notebook into your field of vision again. 

“Can you have a look at this? I don’t know how I feel about it.” he asks, slumping down next to you. 

You put down your phone and pick the book from his hands. You’ve always loved his boyish handwriting. Something tells you that this isn’t meant for Bad Omens or anyone else's eyes. It’s surprisingly confessional, a somewhat fictionalised account of the last few months that all in all wraps around a single steady thread – you. It’s not a hymn to your efforts, but rather an acknowledgement of everything you had given him and sacrificed because of him. 

Noah's hand wraps around yours. The crowd a few meters away from you roars as the screen changes once again. 

“You’ll be fine, honey.” you soothe, squeezing his hand tightly. 

“Feels like I’m doing this for the first time.” 

It’s been almost a year, of course he’d be a little nervous. But you know that he’ll do his best, and that’s all everyone could ever ask for. 

“I know. I can’t be with you up there, but I’m right here. If you need me, I’ll be right here.”

He nods, more to reassure himself than to acknowledge what you said. 

“You’re almost up.” someone says from behind you.

Noah shakes himself out of his stasis. 

“Alright.” he says to himself, “Wish me luck?” 

“You don’t need luck.” you pull him in for a kiss, “I love you. Go do your thing.” 

“I love you.” 

He steals another kiss, before he pulls that damned ski mask over his head. Just a moment later he’s up the stairs and as soon as you hear their screams you know that the little bit of fear that still sat on his shoulder has melted away.

From your position you can watch the show quite comfortably. It takes Noah a moment to get back into the stage persona, but once they’re through the first song, it feels as if he had never stopped doing it. Seeing him back on his feet like this fills you with absolute joy. 

They’re nearing the end of the set when Noah actually addresses their somewhat forced break. 

“We’ve been away for a little bit. I’m sorry if that messed with your plans, but it was a long time coming. We’re all incredibly thankful for what you’ve made possible for us, and we’ve always tried to give all of that back. Maybe we – I’ve tried a little too hard. What I’m trying to say is that it’s thanks to all of your support that I could take this step back, and I’ll never forget that. But I also have to thank someone else.” he turns towards you, giving you that smile of his that makes you feel as if you’ve just fallen in love with him, “Thank you for everything. I couldn’t have done this without you.” 

Whatever he says after that is drowned out by the cheering of the crowd. Noah leads them into the last song of the set so effortlessly. 

The past months still linger with you, and they will for a while longer. In the end, it was worth every single tear. You’d fought tooth and nail for this – both of you had. And you’re so glad that you did it. 

As soon as the set is over, Noah comes barrelling down the stairs towards you. You’re wrapped into his arms. You return the embrace immediately, holding him to you as tightly as you can. For a long moment, both of you remain silent, content to just hold each other close. 

“Thank you, my love.” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “For everything.”

taglist: @deathblacksmoke @circle-with-me @sitkowski @ladyveronikawrites @baddestomens

@malice-ov-mercy @chels3a-smile @ferduttini @somebodyels3 @itsafullmoon

@shilohrosechicken @poisongirl616 @mysticdoodlez @agravemisstake

[jjtheresidentbaby]

Hi! Congrats on 1000 followers!

Could you do a cg! Rafe Cameron x little! Reader with the prompts "shh, go back to sleep. you need it." and "shh shh, no, it's alright. you're fine, shh."

Btw, I love your blog and I’m so happy you’re doing obx fics now!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ you’re fine ⋆ﾟ⊹ ➢ event masterlist

» rafe cameron x reader

» a/n: hope you don’t mind me taking some creative liberties and making this pouge!reader turned kook!reader

» warnings: set sometime in season 3, talk of canon events, pouge!reader turned kook!reader, pet names, nightmares, angst, crying, hurt/comfort I’m still not sure I like this

Rafe jolts when you wake up with a choked off scream that quickly turns to a sob, he moves from his place in a chair in the corner of the room to the side of your bed in seconds, already reaching to rub your back.

“Shh, shh, no, it's alright. you're fine, shh.” He soothes and pulls you up into his lap when you reach out for him.

“It’s okay baby, you’re alright.” It’s so gentle coming out of his mouth you’d swear it wasn’t Rafe if it wasn’t for the moonlight coming in through the window lighting up his distraught expression scrunched on his face.

It’s been months of this. Of waking up in nightmares that leave you shaking and grasping for Rafe to be at your side, of Rafe doing absolutely everything he can to comfort you, of you trying to adjust to living in Tannyhill with Rafe rather than back on the Cut near Jj’s house where you grew up. You and Jj don’t talk anymore, none of the pogues give you so much as a sparing glance, they’re all too aware of what side you chose when you didn’t flee off that cargo ship with them- you stayed with Rafe.

“I- I was back there-.” Rafe tightens his arms around you with a low shh that you listen to easily, leaning into his touch and letting him start to rock the both of you in place.

“You’re not there, you’re here with me. We’re safe and back in obx, we never have to be there again.” It’s not the fear that was steadily coursing through your veins on that boat that bothers you, really it isn’t, it’s the look of absolute betrayal that spread over all your old friends’ faces.

It’s something you can’t shake and while you know you made the right decision- you, Rafe, and Barry melted the cross down, you’re all rich, Ward isn’t around to bother you, you’re living a better lifestyle than you’ve ever dreamed- it’s still stomach churning to think about the pogues. You don’t even know where they are right now or what they’ve been up to, once they found out you helped melt the cross that was it, you had hope that maybe they’d see where you were coming from but that crossed the line. A line you truly didn’t think existed.

You grew up on the Cut with them, hell you had problems with Kiara when John B introduced her because she had a house on Figure Eight, you never thought you’d end up on this side of island for anything more than a job or a party, you thought you’d be with them no matter what, that nothing that happened would break the bond between you and the other pogues and now-. If you think about this too much you’ll get a headache.

“Shh, go back to sleep. you need it." The feeling of Rafe’s chin hooking atop your head brings you back to where you are.

“I’m sorry.” After that day on the boat where you had clung to Rafe the second you two were alone, crying and scared, slipped so far into your headspace you couldn’t think about that fact that you were hugging around Rafe Cameron- it feels like all you’ve done is apologize to him. The guilt of absolutely everything you do eats at you, no matter what choice you make it ends up hurting someone, you end up being the problem.

“You don’t need to apologize, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Rafe replies with zero hesitation as he always done. He’s never questioned your loyalty to him or said you need to get over what happened with the pogues, in some weird way you think understands it, he doesn’t have anyone but you and Barry left. And even then- Barry betrayed him once, you can still feel the tension between them at times because of it.

“You’re always taking care of me and I’m still a mess.” It took all of two seconds for Rafe to jump into caregiver mode on that boat when he realized that you were regressed, you don’t think he’s ever gotten out of it. Months later and nothing has changed, he’s taken on the role as your caregiver without a single question or judgement made, as if he already knows everything he needs to know to watch you.

“Shush baby, it’s not your fault those pogues put you through so much.”

Logically you know Rafe’s version of events are skewed and probably will be no matter what you say- but it still hurts a little to think he blames them in full. It was your own fault, you went along with every plan they came up with from that first day John B said you guys should go out looking for the royal merchant after that storm, and even if you eventually felt out of your depth and like things were getting too hectic and you wanted to tell them to stop- to go back to how you all were before- it’s still on you.

“They’re never going to forgive me.” You whisper and truly don’t mean to, that was supposed to stay in your head.

“They’ve put you through hell, you aren’t the one that needs to be forgiven, you made the right decision. The smart one.” You nod at Rafe’s serious but soft tone and curl farther into his chest.

“Yeah, I’m glad I have you.” Everything else aside- you’d do anything to keep Rafe around, he’s there for you in a way none of the pogues ever have been and you can’t ignore that.

“You’ll always have me baby.” He presses a kiss to the side of your forehead and lays you both back against the bed, shifting slightly so you can lay over his chest and he can pull a blanket over both of you.

“Try and sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.” You hum to Rafe, letting your eyes slip shut in contentment. He will be here when you wake up, you know that, you’d never doubt that, and it makes some of that guilt slip off your shoulders.

[subskz]

tmi but i don’t moan in bed like i literally can’t no matter how good it feels and it’s kinda an insecurity of mine…just wondering how you think each member would react and what would they do ❤️‍🩹

no worries at all <3 see it as a good thing! it just means you can hear ur partner more~

chan - funnily enough he might be the one who's insecure abt it at first bc he gets worried that he's not making you feel good, and that is channie's absolute nightmare. he already tends to be a huge service sub, so you can imagine how much effort he’d put in trying extra hard to please you. he keeps repeating that you can use him however you want, begging you to let him do things that are solely for your pleasure to the point where it becomes very obvious that smth’s weighing on his mind. esp when he gives you head, channie puts his all into it w the hope that he can satisfy you enough for you to moan. he sounds so cute asking for reassurance when you don’t make much noise even as his tongue laps frantically at you like you’re his last meal, slurring things like “m i doing okay? is this good? just wanna make you feel good” w growing desperation. once he comes to understand that it's just the way you are, he doesn't mind at all! he might feel a lil embarrassed though, bc he is very vocal in bed and gets pretty loud, so when his moans are the only ones ringing out he can’t help but get shy abt it. he really needs to know he's doing well for you, so he might sheepishly ask if you could please tell him verbally when things feel good instead, so he can feel more confident and secure in his actions! he needs lots of praise ♡

lino - he's a bit trickier bc his pride might come into play here hehe. he might not bring it up w you bc he doesn't want you to know it affects him, but in his head he's definitely trying to analyze why he never seems to get a vocal reaction out of you. minho is also pretty good at holding back his voice when in the right headspace, so he might end up stubbornly trying to keep quiet too just to see what you’ll do, like he's playing a game w you and competing to see who can actually get the other to moan. it doesn’t help that he tends to be on the receiving end of pleasure 90% of the time, so even if you weren’t naturally silent it’d be more of a challenge for him to hear you moan bc he’s getting all the stimulation. he’s very observant though, so he’ll pay careful attention to your other reactions to figure out what you like and make sure he’s not the only one feeling good. it’s one way to get this spoiled kitty to put in work bc he secretly can’t stand the idea of not satisfying you properly. when he learns that it’s not an issue of pleasure, he’s pretty relaxed abt it bc he quickly catches on to the other ways you express yourself, esp physically when you clench your jaw, pull harder at his hair, or clench around him. though, like chan, he might get a bit self-conscious when he ends up losing his composure first and he’s the only one making the sweetest, filthiest noises for you

binnie - poor binnie...he's a bit devastated at first bc his little leo heart needs to know he's doing well and his pride starts to feel shaky when he thinks he's not making you feel good. he'd be so cute abt it, whiny and kinda sulky when nudges you to figure out why you're being so quiet when he tries to please you. he’s not one to hide his need for compliments so he’d ask pretty shamelessly “is binnie doing a good job?” in the cutest, poutiest voice. he glances at you a lot to make sure he’s not doing anything wrong, and his face heats up a lil bit whenever he lets an especially loud moan slip out meanwhile the most he can get out of you is some shaky breaths and sighs. binnie also just really seems like the type to be turned on by his partner's moans, especially when they’re mixed w the sound of his, so he'd feel a lil wistful abt not getting to hear them. however…once you’ve convinced him that you’re just naturally not very vocal n it has nothing to do w how well he’s pleasing you, he actually finds it pretty sexy seeing how composed you are in comparison to him hehe. he loves when you tell him that it’s just bc his voice sounds so sweet and angelic, you want to hear him moan for you like a good boy instead. plus, when you’re not very vocal, it makes any hitched breaths and words of praise that he does manage to earn from you all the more fulfilling to him <3

hyunjin - he gets deeply caught up in heat of the moment when having sex to the point where he’s always not super aware of his surroundings, so he may not process right away that he’s the one doing all the moaning bc when he fully lets go his moans would easily overpower yours in volume anyway. he’s very passionate abt ur pleasure though and craves a mutual intensity, he wants to be immersed in it with you so that you’re just as hooked on ruining him as he is on being ruined. it might take a bit, but he definitely starts to notice that you’re not making much noise and he gets kinda sensitive n insecure abt it bc he feels like you’re not attracted to him or he’s not doing a good job in bed. when he gives you his all and still doesn’t get any moans out of you, poor baby starts to overthink and needs a bit of comfort so he knows he’s not being selfish and failing to satisfy you. your reassurance is all he really needs to feel better abt it though, bc hyunjin gets lost in all of you down to the last detail. he starts to pay more attention to other ways you express yourself, like how you grip his hair extra hard when you’re close, how your voice gets more breathless when you talk him through it, or how u gaze down at him like you’re abt to devour him. that’s all he needs!

jisung - he might not even notice how quiet you are at first bc he's so ridiculously loud himself, he moans enough for the both of you. it might take smth like you gagging him or shoving your fingers in his mouth for him to realize on day through all his muffled cries and whimpers that you’re extremely sparse w your noises in comparison to him, even when you’re on the receiving end of pleasure. hannie’s typically kinda shameless abt how vocal he is, and he also couldn’t really help it if he tried, but he might be another one who develops a bit of a complex abt it and start trying extra hard to please you bc he feels awkward abt being so loud when you aren’t. he begs to go down on you at any opportunity and asks “does that feel good? am i doing it right? am i a good boy?” the whole time, getting progressively whinier w his questions when you still don’t moan. it’s clear that smth’s up from how overly eager he is and how he keeps vying for your approval even more than usual. if u dont bring it up yourself, he’ll eventually ask you all childish n pouty if he’s not doing well for you and what it’ll take to get any kind of sound out of you. once you soothe his doubts, he recovers pretty quickly bc jisung doesn’t really need you to be loud, he gets wildly turned on over every little thing you do, anyway, so it doesn’t bother him in the slightest if you aren’t as vocal as him as long as he’s pleasing you~

felix - sweet angel lix is satisfied as long as he gets to feels close to you! he doesn’t mind whether you’re vocal or not and honestly may not even think much abt it. in his mind, you’re just a a lot more controlled than him and it’s smth he finds very attractive abt you! it makes him feel safe n secure, for you to have such quiet reactions when he’s completely falling apart at your hands, like he can depend on you to be calm and ground him through it all. i think lix is fairly vocal in the sense that he doesn’t hold back his moans, but they’re not always very loud, so it’s extremely sensual to him to just listen to the sound of your shared breathing with all his soft whimpers and low groans in between. esp when you get a extra sharp cry out of him, it turns him on a lot to hear all the filthy sounds you’re capable of drawing out of him. felix is very curious though and a bit of an overthinker, so he might wonder every now n then if he’s not doing enough for you. his hands might start to wander over your body more often, pawing and squeezing at different parts to try n figure out what you like most, maybe even getting bold and toying w more sensitive areas like your nipples. when you question him he give u the most innocent smile n shyly admits that he’s trying to see if he can get some sounds out of you. but even if he doesn’t succeed physical touch is all he needs to be content

seungmin - he doesn't really question it! seungmin is naturally on the quieter side too and has very soft reactions, both physically and verbally, so he doesn't stress too much abt it when he notices that you don’t make a lot of noise w him. the intimacy is the most important aspect of all to him, he doesn't need a lot to be said or heard to feel good and comfortable with you. that's not to say he doesn’t care at all though...seungmo's very observant, and like minho, he will definitely study your reactions to every little thing to try and find the best way to please you. he doesn’t make a big show of it or nag you abt it, he just subtly makes note of what you seem to like most and puts in extra effort for it. i can definitely see him leaning in to body worship for his, w his big brown eyes watching you keenly as his lips roam all over your skin. it’s very cute once you realize what he’s trying to do. like felix, he honestly finds it pretty alluring that you’re even quieter than him in bed, especially in the context of puppyplay. nothing makes his heart race more than him feeling himself start to slip as he laps away at you eagerly, making more noise than you even though you’re the one getting all the pleasure. ironically, it encourages him let go of himself even more and moan without restraint

jeongin - innie looks at you w stars in his eyes whether it’s your first or nth time together, everything abt the way you guide him w such confidence makes his heart race and this is no exception! i think out of all the boys he’d actually love this abt you the most, bc he just finds it insanely hot that you’re able to stay so calm and collected meanwhile he’s a complete mess who can’t hold back his gasps no matter how desperately he tries to. it does admittedly make him feel a bit flustered and ashamed of himself for sounding so pathetic in comparison to you, but when he’s feeling so good it’s hard for him to remember to hold back. if you shush him gently while he’s moaning up a storm, he’d go a little crazy. he’s also very aware of how much you love seeing him like that. though he doesn’t fully understand why, and as shy as he gets when you go harder to earn the cutest, loudest cries from him, he feels more comfortable w his expressiveness knowing that you get enjoyment out of it. however, just like chan and binnie he really needs to know when he’s doing well! since you don’t moan to show your approval, he really longs for you to whisper praise or words of encouragement so he can feel more sure of himself, bc he really likes to be of service to you. you can tell how much even the slightest reaction from you excites him by the way he starts thrusting faster or moving his tongue more vigorously <3

[nxtaliaistyping]

Idk how you would write this because I can't think of a plot that would make sense but I want cooper Adams x gn reader with cooper in the swat outfit but I want him a subby whimpering MESS :3 ig ore me if you want

Cooper wearing the SWAT outfit

Authors note: i'm not confident writing gn reader sorry, reader has a pussy but not referred to as a girl

18+ nsfw, sub cooper, dom reader

Cooper has always found running on foot to be quite…primitive. He should have planned better, but he wasn’t expecting his plan to go that wrong. But the SWAT outfit certainly worked, meaning he was able to escape detection as he flees back to the safehouse.

The uniform weighs him down a little, causing his hair to stick to his forehead as he opens the door quickly, slamming it behind him. Tension radiates from him as he staggers into the living room, seeing you resting; clearly waiting for him to come home.

As you look up at him, you take note immediately of the despondent, almost vacant look in his eyes as he glances at you. But you are drawn to the outfit, and how good he looked. He looks dangerous, and threatening…and oh so fragile as he stumbles to you pitifully.

“Oh baby, come here.”

At your coo, he wraps his huge arms around you, burying his face in your neck as you stand. Your hand goes to stroke his hair, scratching at his scalp as he almost purrs at the attention.

But you can’t deny how seeing him like this is turning you on a little. Big muscles tucked away in the outfit, but his brown eyes looking at you with such a desperation to be comforted, to be coddled despite whatever deranged and evil act he’d committed to get the outfit in the first place.

“You want me to make it better?” You whisper, and the result is instant as he’s nodding against you, however you press him for a verbal answer.

“Want you to make it better.”

His voice is quiet, but it makes you smile all the same as you lead him to the sofa. Your hands are on his broad shoulders, feeling the material under your fingertips before settling on his lap. A few tentative grinds later, he's hard and aching as he tries to buck up into you, but you're having none of it. You tut sharply, holding his jaw and feeling the surprisingly smooth skin beneath your touch.

"Please...baby i-"

You cut him off by lifting your top off, giving him an eyeful of your chest. The look on his face is priceless as you give him the nod of approval. He doesn't need to be told twice, leaning in and latching his mouth to your nipple, whining against you. With a grip on his hair, you can't help but feel the familiar surge of excitement at the sight of the butcher having to beg to suck your nipple.

After giving both his attention, he pulls away and looks up at you pathetically, brown eyes almost welling with tears. Despite not getting very far yet, Cooper still found it quite overwhelming when he entered this type of headspace. So used to being in control, suddenly voluntarily giving it all up for sexual gratification.

But when you start to undo his belt, it's all worth it as he squirms. You tut once more, pulling his hair sharply and hissing at him to be a good boy and sit still. He whimpers, actually whimpers, and does as you ask.

Pulling his cock free, you pump it a few times to watch his breath stutter before you sink down slowly on him.

"Oh fuck sweetheart."

You smile as you start to ride him, gripping on to his broad shoulders. The image of him in the SWAT uniform was making your cunt throb, so you can't resist teasing him that little bit more.

"Bet you thought you were so big and strong out there tonight. Little did you know you'd be moaning and whimpering like a good boy when you got back."

Your condescension went straight to his dick, eyes glazing over a little as you can see the concentration on his face, probably to not blow his load too early.

"I-I did...feel strong" he grits out, hands coming to grasp your waist tightly as you bounce on him. Wanting to thrust up into your tight heat so badly, he restrains himself lest he face your disapproval. You roll your hips to gain as much pleasure as possible as you drink in the sight of him. Of The Butcher, moaning and squirming for you.

"Do you feel strong now?"

He lets out a pitiful whine and shakes his head, thighs tensing. He doesn't feel strong, but this feeling of weakness, of submission, it's addictive. Perhaps not in the same way the thrill of murder is, but an endorphin rush nonetheless.

You push his face back into your chest again, sighing happily as he licks and nibbles like it's his job. Bouncing up and down makes your thighs burn slightly from the exertion, but you don't dare stop.

"M'close." he gets out, his fingertips gripping a bruise on your soft skin.

"Already Cooper? How pathetic."

The words make him groan, hips twitching upwards as he attempts to stave off his orgasm to the best of his abilities.

"Please, please sweetheart. Please I can't hold it." his tone sounds almost broken, a juxtaposition from the aggressive and dominant looking uniform he's currently wearing, dried bloodstains on the chest.

"Okay, okay you can cum. Fill me up." you say softly, and almost instantaneously he unloads his hot cum deep inside you, moaning in a register much higher than you're used to from him. He breathes heavily as he comes down, head back against the back of the sofa, swallowing.

"Oh Cooper, I hope you don't think we're done." you coo, and with shaky legs you remove yourself from him and pull him so he's laying down on the pillows. "After all, it's rude not to let your partner finish too."

Despite his exhaustion he's nodding obediently in agreement, letting you settle with your thighs on either side of his face as he laps at your used cunt, tasting himself. It's slightly humiliating, causing his cheeks to burn softly, but the noises you make are like a drug as he drags his tongue over your clit in circles. Moving you a little, his tongue plays with your hole as his nose brushes against your sensitive nub, and his hands on your hips encourage you to use his face to get off.

He's moaning into your pussy like it's the finest meal, and you can't say you're any quieter, riding his tongue until your eyes are rolling back. Soon enough, you cum on his face with a sharp cry, coating him in your juices to which he laps it up obediently. Like a trained puppy.

You climb off him, as you stroke his hair to hopefully ground him and rid him of the slightly dazed expression. Helping him to take the SWAT uniform off, once he's returned to normal you say with a grin,

"You should keep it, wear it more often."

[mclarengf]

pas besoin d'un faux sourire

learning to parent with dad!logan sargeant

[1.0k]

note: haha enjoy more angst. dw this one’s not an ambiguous ending it def gets fluffy. dad!logan save me fr 

lottie’s crying.

she doesn’t cry very often, which only adds to your concern.

you’d run into the living room when you heard lottie’s soft cry of, “mummy…” and now you’re sat on the couch with her, whispering consolations into her hair. 

as if on cue, the front door opens and logan steps in, finally home after a few days of doing sim work in the uk. after taking in the situation, he parks his suitcase in front of the shoe rack and rushes to your side, placing a hand on your shoulder in support. what a welcome, he must be thinking.

“hey, sweetheart, daddy’s home. daddy’s here,” he says to your daughter softly, “what’s wrong, my lottie?” 

you crouch down and hold out your hand for lottie. you’re a bit surprised she can see through her tears when she takes it, but wrap her in a big hug regardless.

“what’s upset you, baby?”

she just buries her head in the crook of your neck and cries harder. 

you can’t see anything broken or spilt around you, and lottie doesn’t look hurt. you gesture vaguely at logan to take her temperature because you can’t reach her face without shifting and risking her discomfort. he side steps a toy strewn on the floor and presses the back of his hand to her forehead. he comes back into your field of view and shakes his head.

you’ve never felt more inadequate than you do right now. you have no idea why lottie’s so upset, and logan, bless him, isn’t exactly prepared to help in this situation. he’s just gotten back and probably drove the thirty minutes from nice côte d’azur expecting… not this.

“logan,” he looks up, much resembling a deer in headlights, “could you get us a wet flannel please?” 

you’re giving him an out to leave the room and get into the right headspace to do some ‘proper parenting’, he realises. he ducks out, but not before placing a hand over his heart and mouthing a thank you as he goes. 

he’s back in a couple of minutes, having also taken the opportunity to change out of his plane clothes, and joins his girls on the carpet.

“come here, lottie-lou,” you allow her dad to hold onto her, and you shuffle closer to him as he washes her face with the cloth, wiping her tears away as he does so. 

“can you tell daddy what’s wrong?” you ask, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

she shakes her head.

“that’s okay, baby,” logan chimes in, “we can just sit here for a bit, yeah?”

you rest your head down on his shoulder as you sit in silence, save lottie’s quiet sobs. it’s never been exceptionally easy being parents, nevertheless at your relatively young age. lottie’s usually such a gem, so the moments like this are hard to get through, for all of you. 

she’s getting quieter as the two of you comfort her, but it doesn’t seem like there’ll be an end to the tears just yet. logan kisses your cheek; he doesn’t know quite what to do either, so you’ll just have to figure it out together.

another few minutes pass by, then you hear her take in a big breath and mumble, “i miss my home.”

ah, of course. you’d all moved from london to monaco about a month ago, on account of location convenience for logan’s job, and the educational opportunities for lottie. the tax benefits weren’t exactly a complaint either. 

lottie hadn’t had any qualms about the move so far, so you’d both figured she was adjusting alright. she’d even been excited, but of course, the realisation that this wasn’t like a race weekend or a holiday where she would be sure to return to your humble london flat, was bound to kick in eventually.

little by little as she calms down, lottie tells you about how even though she knows a little bit of french from you, it’s not enough to really talk with the other kids, and that the teachers are nice but she doesn’t want to cause a fuss and keep bothering them every day. 

“i’m sorry,” she whispers.

you shake your head and open your mouth to speak, but logan beats you to it.

“you don’t have to be sorry, baby. it’s okay if you feel bad sometimes.” 

you press a kiss to her hands and add, “you just have big emotions, my love. just like me.” 

she’s stopped crying now, and even smiles a bit when you bring up your similarity. 

“if you want, lottie love, we can find you a tutor here who can help with your french, and you and i can always practise at home.”  

she nods at your proposition, then wrinkles her nose and asks, “what about daddy?” 

lottie, selfless as ever, is already thinking about how to include logan. you want to laugh just thinking about logan learning french and even more so, him speaking french with his american accent.

“we’ll rope him into learning with us too,” you grin at logan, “now come on, let’s give daddy a big hug, 'cause we’ve missed him very much while he’s been working.” 

logan smiles at his little family and wraps his arms around both of you, happy that peace has been restored. he takes lottie’s face in his hands and covers her in kisses, making her giggle. 

“you wanna help me unpack now, lottie-lou?”

she jumps up and runs toward logan’s suitcase at her dad’s suggestion, and starts wheeling it towards your bedroom. you and logan, still sat on the floor, watch her go. you give him a kiss. 

“welcome home, handsome. sorry that’s what you came in to.” 

he looks down at you and breathes out a laugh. instead of saying anything, he just holds his hand out for a high-five, which you humor. he lets go of you to push himself up, and helps you up after.  

before he follows after your daughter, he slings an arm over your shoulder and states, “we’re such awesome parents.”

it’s your turn to laugh now, and you reward him with a couple of quick pecks on his lips. you push him to go to lottie before she starts calling for him, and give him a cheeky pat to the bum as he stumbles forward. 

“je t’aime, baby.”

okay; now that that’s sorted, what to have for dinner?

[the-universal-sun]

How do you think the Stan twins act when unwell/hurt, do they hide it or are they more likely to seek someone for comfort or help when regressed?

Thanks in advanced!

Thank you for the ask! Small content warning for brief mentions of the act of throwing up, nothing too much!

I think to an extent, both Stan and Ford, no matter their headspace, would attempt to hide any sicknesses or injuries. To the point a rule needs to be put place for both of them to tell when they not feeling okay, physically or mentally

For Ford, he’s just so used to having to take care of himself whenever he gets hurt that he doesn’t really think to tell Stan that he’s hurt. He’s had to take care of himself, his injuries, by himself since Bill came into his life, and even more when he was traveling the different dimensions. Besides, he may be little but he can take care of himself, right? Wrong. He may be able to put a bandaid on, but he doesn’t think to clean it disinfect it, and he doesn’t play any gentler, meaning he keeps running around, falling and hitting corners, making his scrapes and bruises worse, which means he starts to cry. Stan panics for several minutes, wondering when his Poindexter got hurt so badly, was Stan playing too rough? But no, once he got Ford’s tears calmed down, he asked what happened and Stan’s even more upset when he found out Ford was already hurt but just didn’t tell him. Didn’t he trust him? Did Stan do something to lose his brothers trust? Stan knows his questions have to wait until his Poindexter was big again, these questions would only upset him even more, and the point of regressing is not not stress. What Stan does do is clean and bandage any scrapes or cuts, kisses any bruises, and decides it’s snack time and then nap time. Big talks can come later.

It is different for if he’s sick or mentally unwell. He can’t really hide his sniffles and coughing (Ford would so have the ipad kid cough), but Stan thinks it’s cute that he tries. But he quickly gets Ford some cough syrup, a decongestant, and some warm honeyed milk, and lays him down in bed with a nature documentary, baby reading him some books at request. If Ford’s not feeling to well mentally, he still tries to hide it, and he does really well. Really only Stan can tell, but that’s because they know everything about each other. Stan can tell when Ford isn’t doing to well by how his eyes will shift aground rather than focus on one point. How his smile seems to turn up evenly at mouth corners, instead of tilting up to the right, his real smile. How he hides his hands more when he usually talks with them, throwing them around to explain his point. But since Stan can tell, he knows to be gentle and soft with Ford, wrapping him up in a blanket burrito, Dr. Mittens tucked closely to him, and softly rocks him. Or, after the twins find out and spend time with their small Grunkles, goes up to Stan, loosest sweater in hand, bundles into the sweater with Stan’s help and curls up into his lap. Stan only wants to take the best care of his Little Poindexter, so he’ll do or be whatever Ford needs in that moment.

Now Stan is different, not only because he’s a younger little, but because of how his trauma affects him. He’s so scared of being a burden, of being abandoned, that he will actively hide any injury, illness, or bad days he’s having because he’s just so terrified that Ford will get tired or annoyed with him. If he sneaks too much pudding and gets a stomach ache, he’ll keep it to himself, just sitting solemnly on the floor until he either throws up or whines too loudly and Ford asks him what’s wrong. Which is his weakness, if asked by Ford if he’s feeling bad or ill, Stan cannot lie to him because that will make him feel even worse than he’s feeling now. If he gets a scrape or a cut, he’ll panic and won’t have the mind to bandage anything, so he just winces everytime his clothes move against his injury. Ford watches his with a hawks eye when he’s little, so he can only hide his injury for so long until Ford’d on him, kissing his boo boos and cleaning and bandaging them. Stan always braces himself for lectures or for stern words, which never come. Ford soothes him with soft touches and gentle coos, telling Stan he’s not mad, that he can never be mad at him (true) but to “please please please say something the next time you’re injured, Lee. I care so much if you’re hurt, I want you to enjoy being little without worries of this, sweet boy. Please let me take care of you.”

I mentioned in my Halloween drabble that Ford has a rule for Stan to tell him if he’s feeling overstimulated or anxious, or just feeling bad emotionally in general. That rule pertains to both Stan when he’s big and when he’s feeling smaller, when he’s Lee. The rule was first for Stan when he’s Big Stan. He got overwhelmed in a busy crowd in Gravity Falls, and left Ford’s side to hide out in an alley way. Ford was so scared to see him missing and ran around searching for him. Stan felt so bad that they both agreed to Stan saying something if he was getting too in his head and anxious. That way, Ford could take him to some place quiet, to help him calm down and settle him. The rule extended to when Stan was Little after his first meltdown. He had a nightmare, never told Ford, and was anxious and on edge all day. And sometimes, when people have bad anxiety days with no way to cope, the smallest things all joined together can cause a meltdown, which is what happened to Lee. Again, Ford wasn’t mad whatsoever, he just felt upset that Stan didn’t feel like he could come to him when he was feeling upset and unwell. Now whether he’s feeling Big or Little, Stan will tell Ford when he gets to feel to much and Ford will take care of him, whether that means taking him to a secluded and quiet spot and just softly talking about inane things to calm him down or wrapping him up in a weighted blanket, his stuffies, and maybe a pacifier if he’s feeling little enough.

These two love each other so much :,,,))))

(Sorry if Stan’s seems much longer than Ford’s, for some reason, though I relate to both of them, Stan just inspired me so much)

[kiwixlime]

Quiet and Confident

X is for Xennial 

You really love this old man.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader Notes: I haven’t died! I have just been through so much since I last updated anything and as much as I told myself I could do things, I just wasn’t in the right headspace. In these two years, I’ve fallen in and out of love, dealt with natural disasters, ups and lows of my emotions, and a boring list of other things. But I’ve been going down the rabbit hole lately, replaying my games, and I’ve been missing my boys so badly. And for the first time in forever, I have the inspiration to pick up where I left off. Who knows how long this will last. But right now, it feels right. I feel happy and ready to move on. So I present this. I felt it was the easiest way to ease back into writing. A simple and short one shot that of course includes our favorite dilf.  Warnings because we need those: Just some fluff and some suggestive conversation. Age gap, obviously. I love old man Joel. It’s been a long time since I’ve written anything interesting so I’m not ready to dive right back into the smut yet haha. Soon, though! Soon. Anyway, this is short and sweet because it’s been a roadblock in my drafts and I have better things planned and I just want to get this out of the way. Definitely not my best work, but I promise better things are ahead. 

“Ha, Xennial.” 

“Somethin’ funny to you?” 

“Nope, nothing.” 

“You’re askin’ for it.” 

“Asking for what, grandpa?” 

Joel groans and mutters something to himself. You can’t help but laugh, sitting up in your bed, bringing your arms out in front of you to stretch yourself awake. The sun barely seeps through the curtains of your bedroom, but there’s enough of a glow for you to take in the markings that embellish your wrists. You smile, tucking your hands into your lap. 

“We should be more careful,” you express, catching his attention again. 

Curious, he enters your room, closing the bathroom door behind him. His sculpted figure makes its way to the edge of your bed. You stare in awe as he stands tall over you. He's old, but he's Godly. So fucking Godly. With a concerned pout, he holds his hands out, urging you to show him your wounds. 

When you comply, revealing the reddening marks and deepening bruises, he frowns. In the moment, he loves being rough with you. There's nothing better than listening to you beg and plead and whimper like a desperate little bitch. But once the lust wears out, he feels a little bad for treating you so...dirty. 

“Sorry, princess,” he hums and brings your wrists to his lips. His warm breath hits your skin, sending goosebumps up your arms and warmth throughout your belly. “Grandpa just can’t help himself.” 

“Oh, ew,” you whine, yanking yourself away from him. You fall back onto the bed, pulling the sheet up with you to cover your grossed-out face. You started it, but ew. “You ruined it.” 

“Hey,” he chuckles, lowering himself onto the mattress with you. “You started it. Callin’ me old 'n' shit.” 

“I’m sorry!” You giggle, exposing your face to him as he slowly pulls the white cotton fabric off your body. He's barely listening as he takes in the sight of you, gorgeous and innocent, just for him. “I just can’t get over it. Xennial.” 

“Why is that so fuckin’ funny to you?” He asks with a smile, his focus back on your face, finding you absolutely adorable with your cheeky smile and glistening eyes. 

Last night, before heading home, you guys were out with your sister and his brother and a few others, just shooting the shit and having a drink. Tommy referred to Joel as an Xennial and for some reason, you just lost it. It was the funniest thing you'd heard. 

“It’s just another way of calling you old,” you say like it's the most obvious thing in the world. “I like it.” 

“Yeah, well,” he huffs, feigning annoyance. “You weren’t thinkin’ I was too old for you last night, tied to the bed and beggin' to be--.” 

You grunt, slapping his arm. He’s not wrong. And he knows you’re joking. You like the fact that Joel is so much older than you. It’s not some weird kink thing, even though it seems that way and you happily play along to the roles. But there’s maturity in him, wisdom, and he doesn’t play games with your emotions. He’s straightforward and too old for bullshit. He lets you know what he wants and you love that you don’t have to guess. 

Plus, you feel comfortable with him. He’s strong and tough and sometimes a little scary, but he makes you feel safe. More than that, he teaches you how to hold your own; he teaches you how to protect yourself. You appreciate that. He’s delicate with your feelings and serious about your well-being. 

“Speaking of,” you say, the tone change in your voice is not lost on the older man. “You’re getting careless in public, you have to be careful or my sister will find out.” 

Thickness fills the air around you, leaving Joel with an uneasy feeling in his gut. You can feel the tension raying off of him and practically suffocating you. "Right," he says. 

Recalling the night prior, you can’t count the number of times Joel almost slipped up in front of everyone. It was either an intimate look that lasted a few seconds too long, a touch that was borderline indecent, or just his overall demeanor showing that he was way too close to you. Luckily, no one noticed as they were either occupied or intoxicated, but one of these days you won’t be so lucky. And your sister will lose her shit. 

“Is it the age thing?” He asks with a frown, his spirit darkening a bit. In all seriousness, his age is a bit of a sore subject between you two. He made sure a thousand and one times that you were okay with the large gap that existed between you two, and you were - you are. But sometimes it still gets to him. 

The last thing he wants is for someone, your sister especially, to think he has ill intentions towards you. And he doesn’t want people thinking badly of you, either. Even at the end of the world, the town loves their gossip. 

You’re young, but you’re not naive, you’re not stupid or careless, you know what you’re getting yourself into.  

“That and you know…” You trail off when you notice he’s lost in thought. 

“What?” He asks, dumbly, and you laugh. You stare at him, waiting for his brain to catch up, and when it finally clicks he lets out a small “oh.” 

“She wanted you first,” you finish, watching his face fall. He looks uncomfortable, squirming a bit under your gaze. It’s not something he likes remembering, mostly because it brings his tired brain back to the age thing again and leaves him with a sour feeling in his stomach. He’s not a creep. He’s not. Right? 

“And I wanted you,” he says softly, shyly almost. He doesn’t have to say much for you to know what’s going on in his gorgeous head. It’s painfully obvious. 

“And I wanted you,” you reply. “I know there’s something, deep down in your gut, telling you that this is bad, but I’m telling you to ignore it. I’m an adult, Joel. I’ve been an adult for years.” 

“I know that,” he sighs. “It’s just--” 

“It’s nothing,” you say firmly. “Look around, love. Look at the world we’re living in. If we find love, if we find comfort, who are we to deny it?” 

“I like what you’re sayin’,” he admits with a handsome grin, his hand finding yours, counting your fingers as he presses soft kisses to each one. He brings your palm to his cheek, resting against it and looking at you with such adoration. “You have me wrapped around your finger, you know that?” 

You hum, eyes fluttering closed, loving what he’s saying and how he says it. His naked body relaxes against yours as he climbs on top of you. Warm lips find your neck, sending your sensitive body and mind into a spell. You could stay here forever, getting lost within him, making yourself at home in his embrace. God, your sister would be so disappointed for so many reasons. 

“Everyone always says I’m just the younger version of her,” you whisper, killing the mood as Joel’s lips falter against your skin. He pulls away, brows furrowed in confusion and a little disappointment. “Sorry,” you squeak. 

“Somethin’ on your mind?” He asks with concern. 

Sighing, you sit up, Joel grumbling in disappointment as he sits up with you. “I don’t question whether or not I want to be with you,” you tell him with certainty. “But she is the one person who scares me with this. She already thinks I’ve become a different person since coming to Jackson. And I keep going over last night. One of these days, we’re going to slip. And she’s going to kill you. I’ve always been told I’m just the mini version of her. So if she finds out, she’s going to think the worst of you. She’s going to think you’re the worst kind of pervert.” 

The rambling is doing your head in, but you can’t stop. Your inside thoughts are out there now and you can’t get them back on their leash. It’s been a while since you’ve panicked like this and you really don’t care for it. 

“Because I didn’t want her?” He scoffs, standing from the bed and grabbing his clothes from the floor. He slips his boxers on and then his jeans, feeling awkward being exposed during this kind of conversation. “You’re not a mini version of her,” he insists, sitting back beside you. “You look alike, sure, but that’s where the similarities end, darlin’. I promise.” 

It’s nice to hear, and it’s something you want to believe. But his words can’t erase years of everyone you know telling you how alike you and Lexie are. Maybe that’s why you’ve changed so much. It wasn’t the world ending, it was the newfound freedom. Here, you aren’t Lexie’s little sister. Here, you are your own being. And no one knows otherwise. 

“Listen,” Joel starts before your mind can spiral again. He grabs your hand, holding it tightly to keep you grounded. “Maybe I’m wrong, maybe I just don’t know Lexie well enough. But your sister, to me, seems like the type who is always tryin’ to impress everyone. I get the feelin’ she has the need to be liked; to fit herself into whatever shape someone asks of her.” 

Part of you wants to jump into your sister’s defense and tell Joel she's not like that. But you can’t seem to find your voice. And you’re not sure if you’d be lying or telling the truth. 

“But you aren’t like that at all. You don’t give a shit what anyone thinks, and you don’t cater to 'em. You don’t make yourself smaller to make everyone else feel more important. You’re quiet and confident. And I love that about you,” he finishes and you can hardly contain yourself. 

As the words leave his lips, you pounce on him, rolling him onto his back while you crawl on top of him. He lets out a little grunt and winces, grabbing onto your hips tighter than you were anticipating. 

“Oops,” you laugh. “Did I hurt your old back?” 

“Keep talkin’, sweetheart,” he says, gruffly. “I’ll show you how fuckin’ old I am.” 

You roll your eyes. “That doesn’t make any sense.” 

Joel grits his teeth before asking, “When does your sister get home?” 

You shrug. “Not for a couple hours, why?” 

He laughs and pushes himself up, quickly flipping your positions. He reaches for the binds tied to your headboard and grins down at you, fire in his eyes. “I just think you need a reminder,” he says. “of what happens when you talk back to me.” 

[ladyrowrites]

Promise Part 2

A/N: So part 2 is a bit long because I was in my writing zone.. Also, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Pairings: Gojo x Afab reader

Warning: SMUT!!! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, Lots of angst and swearing, mentions of cheating/alcohol, some degrading tones and smoking

Wordcount: 6k+

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

CHAPTER 2: Lists

Tears just started pouring in the moment you left your once shared home. As you turned around, you felt Gojo’s cries in your heart. But this is the consequence, you keep thinking to yourself. It took a lot of courage to walk away from someone you once loved, and still love, but he literally broke you. Physically(metaphorically) and emotionally. 

You sank down outside the lobby and put your left hand to your heart. You had a ring this morning as a sign of love and promise, but you would’ve never thought you’d return it. Not in a million years.

You see someone coming to you, but you can’t see who it was as your vision is blurred from all the tears.

“Y/N?”

You look up with your hand in your hair, “Suguru?”

“Y/N? What are you doing here? Are you okay? Where’s Satoru?” Suguru looked at you worriedly, not knowing what to do. This looked serious and with your luggage packed to the brim. He never saw you like this. What is going on?

You laughed bitterly and your crying slowed down, “Can you take me to Utahime’s house?” Utahime was your loving childhood best friend. It just popped in your mind how correct she was. Damn it, you should have walked away when you had the chance. In your state, you couldn’t drive. No, you may be numb, but not stupid to die like this. But you felt like you were.

“Uhm, sure. What happened?” Suguru started to help you get up and help you get in his car. He then put your luggage in the trunk. You opened the windows to get some air and stared at the night sky. Why the fuck is it dark blue? Why does it have to be this blue of all nights? The stars were shining so brightly too that you thought how fucking unfair life is.

Suguru was tapping you lightly at your shoulder. You looked at him briefly but looked away again. You could not for the life of you bring this up now to Suguru, his best friend. You don’t know how to start. Oh, yeah his best friend, my fiance, ex-fiance? Shit, he was an ex now. Your mind started to spiral… How about your wedding dress? The venue? It’s been paid already! The cake? The guest list? Shit, your guests! NOW YOU HAVE TO UN-INVITE THEM? WHAT THE FUCK?

“Y/N? Y/N? Hey, are you okay?” Suguru was alarmed at how you are so quiet and you look like you were about to vomit on how pale you look.

His voice brought you back to reality, “Oh uhm, I’m sorry. I’m just not in the right headspace right now.” You frustratingly ran your hair back as if wanting to get it off of you. 

“Okay, I just want to know if you’re okay.”

“Suguru!! Just stop asking questions. Alright? I’M OKAY! Clearly!” He looked at you surprised. The moment you said it, you apologized right away. You didn’t mean to put all your anger into him. Definitely, the wrong person. 

He just nodded and drove you to Utahime’s house quietly. When you arrived, he gave you your luggage. 

You thanked him and said, “Suguru, Satoru and I are done.” 

Suguru couldn’t believe what he heard. No this can’t be true, you two were in love. About to be married. What the fuck did Satoru do? He was about to reply but you walked inside the building already. He immediately called Shoko to see if Satoru said something to her. This could not be happening. 

INSIDE UTAHIME’S CONDO –

“I’m going to fucking KILL HIM!!!!!!” Utahime was furious, as rightfully so. She was hugging you so tight, wishing this would be enough.

You were off and on crying. After all that wedding preparations, it took you 8 months to finally complete it. You didn’t hire a wedding planner because you wanted to personally organize it even though Gojo said he will pay for one. That fucker. Fuck, you loved him so much you gave him your everything even though there was nothing left to give.

“You should’ve fucking slap him! BURY HIM! Well if you can’t I WILL FOR YOU!!” Utahime said while soothing your back. It’s 5am in the morning and your eyes hurt so much from crying but you didn’t even care at this point. 

You got out of the hug and told her, “I can’t stay here. Utahime, I can’t. I will fucking lose my mind if I stay here. In this city. I need to get away. Be gone.” 

“Like a vacation? Where? Where do you want to go? I’ll come with you!” 

You can’t even hear what she is saying because you were pacing back and forth in her living room. You called your work and told them you your quitting and will be giving your 2 week notice. YOU WERE WORKING FULL TIME WHILE PLANNING THE WEDDING YOURSELF! AND HE WAS OUT THERE HAVING WEDDING JITTERS?? FUCKING AND MOANING ANOTHER WOMAN’S NAME! How fucking sad was that? You were going to vomit! You’re literally on your way to the washroom when Utahime follows behind you and helps you by the toilet. She held your long hair. 

“Girlie, you are not? YOU ARE NOT RIGHT?”

You looked up at her, “NO! I’m on my period. I’m just. Ughhhh. I can’t. I feel so sick.” You started bawling again. Utahime was in tears. She never saw you like that. NEVER. She also saw how your ring finger was empty. Now, she is feeling sick as well. What a cruel thing to do, Gojo. She wiped your spit with tissue and flushed the toilet. Then, she held you like your life depended on it. 

In between sobs, you made a list. 

Cut my hair. I never once cut it while I was with him because he said he liked my hair long. Tsssss. NEVER LISTEN TO GUYS! 

Quit work. You just can’t stay in this city. It’s too crowded. It’s him. Every corner, it will be him. You saved enough and you have been wanting to live near the ocean when you are at your most peace.

Move out! You’ll deal with all the wedding stuff once you settle out to a new place.

Utahime promised to help you with all of this. But first, you needed to sleep so she made you your favourite tea to calm you down and tuck you into her bed.

Utahime’s first task is to kill Gojo Satoru. No, ughhhh, but she wants to. But that wouldn’t be fair because that’s too easy of a way out. So she texts your close group friend chat.

GROUP MESSENGER - TIRED BUT RICH GIRLZZ 

To: Mei-Mei, Miwa, Yuki

“911!! Yo, wedding off! That motherfucker fucked a lowlife whore!!! MY CONDO NOW!”

All of them were sitting at Utahime’s couch – confused, hurt, what the fuck feeling

“UGH! Let’s kill him right now! Bury him to that house!” Miwa broke the silence.

Mei laughed, blowing the smoke of her vape, “Miwa, even if we kill him, that won’t help Y/N. This is why I’m only interested in money. Money never breaks your heart ya know?”

Miwa only sighed. They’re all worried about you. You made the quick decision to quit your job right away and move out of the city. They can’t also blame you because Gojo literally took you on dates in every corner of this city. He even proposed to you in your favourite bookstore where he first told you he was in love with you. 

You told him your favourite author has a new book so you wanted to go to your favourite bookstore to get a copy. He happily obliged to accompany you because everywhere with you was bliss. “That’s just an excuse! You just want to get new ones even though you got new ones from last week! Huh!” He pinched your nose cutely.

You pouted, “Uhm no! It’s my fave author! I have to have it! If you don’t want to come you can stay here.” While walking out to the door.

He grabbed you and put a blue scarf on you (He didn’t want you to get cold as you are always easily cold, and it’s winter), “Ahah! Why would I leave my favourite girl alone? Also, I don’t want any other boys looking cute to you.” You just rolled your eyes. 

“What? You’re so gorgeous!” He hugged you and whispered, “You’re all mine, my love!”

You just laughed and grabbed his hand and walked to the bookstore. You loved these small moments with him. The way his white hair falls in his handsome, chiseled face. The way his hands would wrap in yours. You felt safe. You felt home, finally.

You finally found your book and you waved at Gojo so happily like finding money in your pocket unexpectedly. You were smiling so hard that it was melting his heart.

That was when he knew. It was the right time. It has always been you. 

He didn’t hesitate. You were both by the bookstore window and it was the first snow of the year. The perfect moment.

He went down on one knee, “My love, my soul, my everything…” 

You started to tell him, “WAIT! Satoru! The floor is dirty!!!” 

He laughed and everyone around you as well. You just were just so shocked at him and that was the first thing you thought of.

He cleared his throat, “Y/N, love, I’m okay.. I’m going to continue, okay?” You nodded while placing your hand in your mouth. You could not believe what was happening.

“My love, my soul, my everything, I’m not sure if I deserve all your love, but I will try to be the man that you need. You don’t know how much you make me happy. And when you’re not there, it’s like everything is just dark. You literally light up everything in my life.” Satoru started to choke up on his words as he was so emotional, and seeing that you were in tears, “I…I am so in love with you. You are the only woman who I see my future with. I promise to be with you forever until our hairs turn gray. But in my case, more gray I guess? Please grow old with me.” You chuckled as happy tears were falling down your cheeks. 

“Will you do me the honour of being my wife?” While opening the prettiest ring you have ever seen. A big blue sapphire rock in the middle and diamonds surrounding the ring. It was doubled stacked even with more diamonds. Damn, you knew Satoru was not short on cash but you weren’t expecting this breathtaking ring. Everyone ‘awwwwed’ and cried with you when he finished his speech.

You nodded and said, “Yes, my love.”

He took the ring and put it in your left ring finger. You hugged him tight right away and made out with him. He was the only person you see in the sea of people. 

Everyone was cheering, but one heart was breaking.

Gojo never told you, but the proposal was never planned. He bought the ring the second you said you were in love with him too. He was always keeping it in his pocket and kept planning when it was the right time because he wanted it to be perfect. But, unplanned events are always the most memorable ones. It was his favourite memory of you.

You woke up at 3:00pm. Surprised, you were able to sleep for 9 hours. You went out of Utahime's room and were not really surprised to see all your closest friends gathered up like it’s a prayer meeting. They all came to you, hugged, and asked if you are up going to the salon and getting a haircut. 

You were surprised but chuckled at the idea. Utahime did listen to you after all. Your best of friends didn’t even ask you how you are doing as they can tell from your messy bun, tired eyes, and left ring finger. “Can I just get my shit together first?” You softly joked.

“Yeah, you look like shit!” Mei pointed out, but you just rolled your eyes.

“MEI!” Miwa and Utahime yelled, “She’s right tho.” You replied.

“Don’t worry we got you girlie!” Yuki said, squeezing your shoulder, “Come on, take a shower, and then we’ll eat. We’ll get your favourite burger! MY TREAT!” 

“Are you treating me too?” Mei asked, “Girlllll, fuck no, only our special girl here. Before she leaves us somewhere….” Yuki said sadly. Everyone was quiet, but you softly smiled at them. Grateful that they are here with you while you feel literally dying right now. But, you have to stand up and fix yourself right away before you spiral again. If there’s one thing your grandma taught you, it's that you are the only person that can get your shit together and let no man define you. If your grandma saw your state right now, she would be rolling down her grave.

You were great at lists. It keeps you on your feet, not dwelling in the past, even though the trauma you are experiencing is literally right now and not even a day past yet.

Hop in the shower.

Dry your body and hair. As you were looking at yourself in the mirror, you wonder if this body of yours was not enough for him. Was she better? Did she have bigger tits and ass? Did she have longer hair? Was her voice more enticing? UGH! FUCK SPIRALING AGAIN. You shake your thoughts away. 

You slapped yourself lightly. Okay, dry body and hair. You fitted to one of your clothes. YOU MADE SURE NOT TO BRING ANY OF HIS. Or else you’re going to break down.

Put on some light make up, because girl your face is giving shit right now. Your grandma will not like this! Just think of her… You sadly smiled in the mirror. If you can see your insides, you are sure it's full of shattered pieces of your heart. 

You got out of the washroom and all your friends started to hug you again, “Bitches, when I got proposed to, you didn’t hug me this much. Stop! It! It will only make me sadder. Now, let’s go. I need my hair chopped off.”

They smiled and laughed at your comment. When you arrive at the salon, champagne is already ready for you with chocolate covered strawberries. Miwa already called her team to prepare everything. Her family is the owner of the two biggest salons in the city so she got this handled. Your friends insisted on eating first but you said this is more important.

Everyone was looking at you in the mirror, even yourself. Shit, am I sure? I had this long hair for 5 years and now you’re about to part with it - cut it off. You were about to back off, when Utahime, your best friend for life, turned up ‘Work By Rihanna’. THAT WAS YOUR JAM! YOUR SONG! You smiled at her and she gave you a nod. After taking a sip of your champagne, okay not sip, more like a shot, you said, “Fuck it!”

As Trixie began putting your hair in half, putting the clips and slowly cutting the ends, your heart was breaking for the 100th time that day. You were remembering how Gojo caresses your hair and saying how he loves the smell and feel of it. He even used to wash your hair especially when you were too sick to do so. He was a sweet man. Oh fuck, the way he grabs it too when you two make love. UGH FUCK NO! NOT THAT!

You didn’t realize that there were tears on your cheeks. Trixie stopped for a while and asked if they can continue. You just softly smiled and said yes with determined eyes. You let Yuki wipe your tears and mouthed thank you to her.

After that emotionally painful cutting, you looked at yourself in the mirror. You looked different. This was your haircut (see link)

Of course you know, this wasn’t the solution to your problems but you are a little bit relieved. A small breather. Just a little bit tiny better, maybe less daggers in your heart?

Everyone clapped and praised your new look, saying you look better with this haircut. You wonder if you had this look before, would that be enough for him?

You all decided to take out food and buy all the alcohol in the world and as Mei put it, “the best medicine for heart breaks”

Miwa just shrugged and said, “YAH! Stop saying that Mei. Alcohol is only temporary relief. I think the best thing is finding a new man.”

They all gasped as they did not expect that from Miwa. She just shyly smiled and said, “Oh is it too early?”

Utahime laughed, “Maybe that's after the top 10 things she needs to do. For now, we drink! This is a celebration of letting go of that asshole!”

You all started taking shots of Tequila and after the 3rd shot, everyone was singing with you ‘Where Do Broken Hearts Go by Whitney Houston’ because it's Whitney! She was always right with her songs. Where do broken hearts go? Ocean! You sing! You’re moving, that’s it! But that’s in your top 5 later. Tonight, you drown yourself and hopefully forget even just for a moment. Hopefully, Utahime’s neigbours don’t come knocking on the door.

GOJO’S POV:

I fucked up. Plain and simple. Now how do I fix it? Can I even fix it? FUCK! She left. She really left me. She took all her clothes and my heart with her. Why am I like this? Why the fuck did I do this to her? TO US? She was everything LITERALLY good in my life and I had to have wedding jitters? Was it even wedding jitters? I don’t even have the right to have wedding jitters when she is planning every single thing on it.

I told her I would support her but I instead slept with that whore. Well, I guess I am one too. I’ve been running my hands through my hair since she left. Been staring at this ring for way too long. She returned it. FUCK!  I’ve been wanting to call her, get her back to my arms. HUG AND KISS ALL HER PAIN AWAY. How do I get her back? This is eating me alive.

I took a shower and just cried in the tub.

I remember wanting to go home to Y/N as fast as I can, but being the head of the company I have to be present as it is a big merger between Gojo and Watanabe Corporations. It was a successful turnover and of course everyone was in a celebratory mood. 

After all the tiring greetings and fake smiles, I sat down at the end of the bar and drank my whiskey. I promised myself after downing this, I’m going home to you. I know you’ve been tired from all the back and forth from the catering company plus doing all the flower arrangements. It’s been a hectic 8 months for you. I wasn’t really interested in the actual planning.  I just really want to marry you and start the honeymoon. We haven’t been going out, just really us and taking our time to ourselves as we were both busy. So today, when I go home, I will ask you out on a proper date just to give ourselves a break.

I felt someone brush my hands when I was about to pick up my 8th drink. 

“Oh my bad, I didn’t know you were there.” She sweetly smiled at me, she was now talking to the bartender, “One Cosmopolitan please.” She was wearing a Dior perfume, I know this because you have the same perfume. I just nodded at her just to say, it’s all good. I was about to call my driver when she said, “If being handsome was a crime, you’d be guilty as charged.” Then she leans on me while tucking her hair behind.

I knew her face. She has been giving me the eye ever since I did the company’s toast. I just laughed at her pick up line, she then said, “What? Not good enough?” 

She was about to touch my arm when I avoided it, “I’m getting married.” while downing my drink.

“Oh? Who’s the lucky girl? Why is she not here supporting you?” My jaws clenched. She better shut up before—

She suddenly grabbed me in the corner where no one is around, “What the fuck do you think your doing?”

“What? I like you. I think those big hands can be put to use. What do you think?” She winks at me seductively.

“Nah, I’m good. I have a fiancé at home. We’re good. Bye.” I removed her hands from my wrist and started walking, but she made me face her and she started kissing me. For the life of me, I could not, I did not resist. Even when I could have easily just ran from her. I didn’t. I just let her kiss me.

And I was kissing back? What the fuck? Is it because it’s your smell? Am I just this drunk? She then whispered to me, “See? I’m a good kisser. You’re not married YET. Just think of this as your bachelor party.” Fuck, I got hard just from that.

SATORU! FUCKING WAKE UP!!!! SOMEONE WAS WAITING FOR YOU AT HOME. But my legs started to walk back with her leading me to her hotel room.

All I knew was she was stripping us both and we were at the foot of the bed and I could just hear her moaning and  sucking the tip of my shaft. Fuck, why was this so good? She was working her mouth all the way down and I just felt my hands grab her hair, “Yes, Y/N!!! Fuck right there!”

She then looks up at me annoyed, “Uhm? Gojo, it’s Anika, not Y/N.” She then starts to crawl up to me and put her hands on my shoulders, “Don’t worry, I’ll make you forget her name.” She then kissed me, and lined her cunt in my aching cock. She was riding me like there was no tomorrow. My mind went hazy and it just felt so good. Her hands were roaming on my back, creating more tension. I haven’t had this in a while. Her long hair smelled the same shampoo you are using. Strawberries. Mmmh, my favourite.

Fuck!!! I was about to cum, when I heard my phone ring. SHITTTT! Y/N!!!!

I immediately got her off me and started to get dressed, “WHAT THE FUCK GOJO? I WAS ABOUT CUM! YOUR PRICK!”

I couldn’t fucking care less! I didn’t even wait for her to finish dressing. I sobered up quickly and called Shoko. Please pick up! I NEED FUCKING HELP RIGHT NOW. I NEED TO GO HOME NOW!

 Fuck, I was about to lose my dream girl. 

I heard a loud knock on my door. I immediately got dressed hoping it was her. Please be her. Please be Y/N. PLEASE.

“SATORU! WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!” Suguru punched his best friend so hard that he fell on the floor. Shoko wanted to help Gojo but he deserves it. 

Suguru learned what he did to you from Shoko. That night that tragedy happened, Gojo called Shoko asking for help. Shoko just replied, “Go tell her Satoru, or else I’m going to do it. You fucker.” And hang up.

“Is it true? HUH? YOU FUCKING LIAR AND CHEATER?” Suguru was grabbing you by your shirt. You couldn’t even speak because it was true. You just nodded at him. Shoko gave you a towel as your lips were bleeding.

Suguru was fuming. He was pissed because Y/N didn’t deserve all this bullshit and you were a great friend to him and Shoko. Seeing how his best friend went from loving you so much that he changed for the better to be this person who hurt and destroyed your relationship for a one night stand? HE WAS BETTER THAN THAT! Shoko and Suguru couldn’t believe that he would even think of ruining his future with you.

“Was this really your first time? Or have you been cheating even before this? I swear to fucking god Sat—”

“NO! OF COURSE NOT! THIS WAS…. that was.. The first and last time…” You started crying again.

Shoko could not bring herself to comfort you so she was just looking between you and Suguru while puffing a smoke. 

Seeing Shoko like this was not new to you as you have been playing around the field before you met Y/N. She changed you for the better. No actually, you told yourself to change or else there won’t be another one like you, ever. But seeing Suguru being disappointed like this was different. You felt being ganged up and everyone was taking shots at you but you know you deserve this. 

Suguru’s jaw was clenching. He wanted to punch and wake you up more. He wished that he was there when you were about to sleep with that fucking whore. He would have stopped you from making the BIGGEST mistake of your life.

“Don’t come near her, cheater.” Suguru was clear and was about to stand up, when you punched him in the face.

“SATORU! WHAT THE FUCK!” Shoko yelled. Shoko yelling? She was always level-headed but you’re being a prick now.

“You don’t have the right to say that to me, Suguru!! Who the fuck are you to tell me what to do? JUST WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?” You yelled.

Suguru smirked and scoffed, wiping the blood in his lips,  “You are such an asshole, you know that?” He was about to walk away when you said, “Oh yeah, I’m an asshole. But, you just won’t accept that she fucking picked me. IT WAS ME!! For those 4 years, it was me, Suguru! You were just waiting for me to fuck up, don’t you?” You were pointing at your chest angrily while spouting those words to him.

Suguru laughed menacingly, “Yeah, Satoru, yes, because I let you.” Suguru was now on your face, “I let you have everything, didn’t I? All my toys when we were young, all the things you wanted from me, I let you take. Why? Because you are my best friend. But when I let you take her? Oh man, that was the worst mistake of my life.”

Suguru whispered to you, “That would not be the case anymore because YOU ARE THE ONE WHO fucked it up. She will be mine and I promise I’ll let you watch her slip away from you like you had never existed in her life, asshole.”

Gojo felt his real fears come to life as his spine shivered when Suguru walked out. First, losing you. Second, seeing you with someone else.

For the 100th time that day, Gojo’s heart was broken and he couldn’t do any damn thing.

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

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

AHHHH! I felt so good finishing this chapter. Chapter 3 in the works!

Writing soon again,

Lady Ro

[moonrisecoeur]

content warning for dubcon/borderline noncon (consent is always mandatory in real life)

different scenario of best friend!leon where he’s crying and curled up against you and you just can’t help but want to take him from his girlfriend, whether or not be lets you. their argument wasn’t going to end their relationship, but he’ll never be able to look her in the eye after this <3

he whimpers loudly and pathetically as he cries. i just know he does. he’s crying over something stupid she did that he’ll eventually get over, but if you’re being honest? it would be so easy to take advantage of him.

you start out by pressing very very light kisses to his shoulder over his shirt. he doesn’t even notice, but something about him not noticing makes it even hotter. and then your lips hover on his neck, hot breath on his skin should be something that catches his attention, but it doesn’t. not even when you start to kiss his neck, until you get a little too cocky and your teeth graze against his skin.

“what… what are.. you doing?” he stutters, asking nervously, suddenly realizing that he’s not in the right headspace for this. he’s not completely sober, he’s emotionally distraught, he’s crying and sobbing into your shoulder, ruining your pretty shirt, yet you’re… kissing his neck.

“accident, sorry,” you say quickly, trying to prove your innocence, but your hand on his waist feels anything but innocent. even after you apologize, claim you didn’t mean to, you leave another soft kiss on his neck. this time, you physically feel him and hear the beautiful sound of him whining, as if crying out and begging you to keep going. you know that’s not what means. that doesn’t really matter.

he feels his heart pounding in his chest, “but my-my girlfriend… i don’t… i’m not just going to…”

“you’re not doing anything wrong, she doesn’t have to know,” you whisper as you press your lips to his jaw, hanging slightly open, “you can just let me keep going… i’ll make you feel good when she can’t, when she won’t.”

he feels the need to fight back a little more, say something like she’s my girlfriend and i can’t just do that to her. but he doesn’t feel fully in control of himself either. maybe it was the alcohol he drank earlier from the bar with his cop buddies. maybe it’s the way he didn’t realize your hand is down his pants until you were stroking his cock through them. maybe it’s something else.

maybe he liked you? he didn’t really know. he kinda liked you before he had a girlfriend, but thought you didn’t want him like that. his current girlfriend was someone new, and he just fell for her charms because she was remarkably forward and bold, always touching his leg, running her fingers through his hair, telling him how handsome and attractive he was, etc. leon was helpless in falling for her.

“can i kiss you?” you ask, bringing him out of his thoughts. the question is startling, and it’s a big decision to make.

if he doesn’t let you, he’s scared of what might happen. will you leave him? will you kick him out and leave him no where to run to like the lost puppy he’d be?

if he does let you, what does that make him? a cheater?he didn’t really want to cheat on his girlfriend, but you’re just so… convincing. and he’s not in a state where he’d need a lot do it. what would it make you? the home-wrecker? would his girlfriend hate you for it? would she hate him? should she?

his girlfriend is so passive, yet so demanding. she’ll give nothing and take everything leon has to give, and he keeps giving just to keep her satisfied. leon wonders if you’d be any different.

leon has thought about kissing you before. he’s thought about a lot worse, actually, but tried to pretend he didn’t because you weren’t his and he wasn’t allowed to think about his friend like that. but he has. he imagines your soft lips, sticky with the lip gloss he knows you like to wear. he knows it would taste like strawberries if he could just…

“yeah,” he finally decides, “you can kiss me… please… uhm, kiss me, please.”

you smile softly and nod, acknowledging your victory, before leaning in. it’s everything he thought it would be and more. he tries not to compare you to his girlfriend or her to you, but he can’t help but think you’re a million times better.

he could list off the reasons why he likes kissing you more, but he’d say the main one is how you’re giving and taking with balance, letting him touch your face gently while also resting a hand on the back of his neck. your hand down his sweats releases him and just holds his waist while he holds onto you the same. he doesn’t feel empty as he gives you his all but he doesn’t feel smothered with the intensity he knows is locked inside. he’s looking for the key.

he moans at the taste of your lip gloss, and yes, your lips are just as delicious as he imagined. he can’t bear to let you pull away, holding the collar of your shirt when you try to to keep you in kissing distance. not that you mind, you just didn’t expect leon to be so desperate so fast.

“i’m… i’m not… i’m not a bad person right?” he breathes heavily as he finally lets you pull away, and his moral conscious starts to come back to him, “our argument was so dumb, a-and i… i still couldn’t… maybe we should stop.”

“oh, sweetheart,” you mumble gently, pressing your fingers into the soft skin of his waist, while your free hand traces the lines of his face. he still can’t stop blushing, “you can’t just leave me like this. can’t just kiss me and then expect me to not get addicted, pretty boy.”

well that name was new. he certainly was not called that by his girlfriend, “i don’t.. i can’t do this to her. a kiss was bad enough, but if we… go all the way… i can’t do that.”

your hand on his waist drops down to caress his thigh, moving up closer and closer. whether or not leon admits it and lets you do anything, he’s needy. he’s extremely turned on, his body practically begging you to touch him.

“no, wait, stop, i- i know you- you’re trying to help, and i- i appreciate it! but, please, i can’t do this to her.”

but his body betrays him as he lets out a moan, his voice breaking, and his hand grasps your arm for support. he throws his head back as you finally touch his aching cock, gulping nervously.

“please, i don’t want to hurt her, this is so.. this is wrong. you need to stop, i need to go—”

and that’s when you look up at him, baby blues staring back at you helplessly. he’s begging you to keep going. he’s also begging for you to stop. he’s confused too, if it helps. you narrow your eyes at him, “and go where? you already betrayed your girlfriend by making out with me and letting me touch your cute n pretty cock, baby. you can’t go back to her.”

and when he opens his mouth to defend himself, you stick your index and middle finger into it instead, “suck, baby,” you murmur to him, and he moans as he complies. for someone so resistant and not giving in to what he knows he wants, he’s oddly obedient.

“she doesn’t want you anymore, now that you’ve cheated on her,” you say like it’s a simple fact. like that the grass is green and the sky is blue, “you’re just a pretty little toy now, aren’t you?

he’s breathing raggedly as your soft touches become full strokes. his body is tense as he shakes his head, “no, fuck, please, i-i know we’re friends but this isn’t okay, please…”

“shhh, don’t cry, sweet boy,” you whisper as you notice the tears in his eyes. you lean in to kiss him, suddenly less soft and sweet like strawberries, but now his sobs feel visceral as he moans in your mouth, his ragged breaths cutting of the kiss before you pull him tighter to keep it going.

when you pull away, he looks soft, vulnerable, dazed.

“fuck, leon..” you mumble, pressing kisses to his shoulder, “if you keep looking at me like that, i’ll have no choice to do this to you every day, but you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

he stutters, briefly imagining a reality where he spent all his days being kissed and touched and loved by you. he doesn’t hate it, “n-no! i… i mean kind of, yes, i don’t.. i like it, it’s just… i’m with her, i can’t.. i can’t be doing this with you.”

his insistence of putting up this wall between the two of you is getting tiring, so you up your game. you lean in to press soft kisses to his neck, enjoying his heavy breaths and the little sounds that escape his throat when your lips are on him.

“please don’t, i… my girlfriend is—” his voice sounds strained, like he’s using all of his effort to keep himself contained and controlled.

“doesn’t fucking matter anymore. all that matters is that i want you. and i will get what i want, leon, won’t i? i always get what i want.”

[madi-writes-things]

Francesca Pt. 1

Summary:

It broke Schlatt when he had to let Y/N go, But he would go through hell a thousand times if it meant he got to hold her again.

“If I could hold you for a minute… I’d go through it again.”

Word Count: 1.09 K

TW: Mental Illness, angst, ocd, depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, break up, pining, feelings of worthlessness, basically a self insert without a physical description, Based in Texas… because so am I

A/N: I’m totally ok, and definitely not scared of my mental illness… 👀

-Madi <3

“”“”“”“”“”

Y/N’s POV

My bags are packed before Jay gets home. I don’t want to make this any harder than it has to be. I should probably leave before he gets here, but he deserves an explanation. I’m not really sure what to say when he gets here, but he doesn’t deserve to be ghosted…

When the door opens I regret my decision to stay. He’s holding an H-E-B bag with frozen pizzas and ranch.

My favorite.

The second he locks eyes with me I break down. The bag falls from his hand as he rushes to pull me into a hug.

“What’s wrong pumpkin? What happened?” His voice is filled love and tenderness, very different from his online persona. It makes me cry harder.

“I can’t do this Jay… I-” He pulls me impossibly closer, mumbling a quiet ‘don’t do this’. “I already packed everything into my car. I can’t ask you to stay, I wouldn’t do that to you…”

He knows that I’ve been struggling lately, but I would never ask him to understand the extent of my anguish. I could never tell him about my hours spent researching. The notes. The fear of being alone with myself.

All I’ve ever wanted is to marry the man of my dreams, and have a big family. My mind constantly tells me that I can’t have it…

Nobody would want to deal with you, he’d get tired of it eventually. What if your kids are crazy like you? You don’t want to run the risk that he has to find you dea-

“You aren’t doing anything to me, you don’t have to do this… we can get through this, we can get you whatever help you need… please…”

I’m doing this because I love him. I can tell when he sees the look in my eyes, he mumbles a quick okay before leaving to put the pizzas in the freezer.

I run to lock myself in the bathroom… I feel like I’m going to throw up.

“”“”“”“”“”

When I finally get myself together, I leave the bathroom on a mission to get out quickly. It takes me a while before I realize what’s happening.

“where the hell did you put my keys Jay?” I see him sitting at our table, set with two plates of pizza and two glasses of wine.

“You’re not driving right now… I just heard you have a twenty minute panic attack, you’re in no headspace to drive.” I know he won’t give me the keys, no matter how much I try to convince him. “Do you even have anywhere to go?” I just shake my head. He gets up and walks into our bedroom.

I can hear him on the phone with Ted, he’s asking if I can stay in LA with him. When he returns, we sit down to eat the now cold pizza.

“What did he say?” I didn’t necessarily want to move across the country, but we both know I wouldn’t be able to actually leave well enough alone if I stayed.

I can tell that he’s been crying, but I know that this is what’s truly best for him in the long run. “He said yes, obviously. I’ll drive you to his place, and catch a flight back.” I knew that there was no convincing him to leave me alone for extended periods of time… I wonder if Ted told him not to let me out of his sight.

He probably did.

After dinner Jay offers to sleep on the couch, but I tell him that I don’t want our last night to be spent in different parts of the house.

He holds me as I cry myself to sleep.

This is what’s best for him.

“”“”“”“”“”

The nearly twenty hour drive was silent, stopping whenever the gas gauge lit up. Jay always knew what to get me from the gas station, while I stayed in the car reading. About halfway through the ride he finally decided to play some music, our shared playlist flowing through the tense atmosphere.

I decided to take a nap at some point, and was awoken by Jay gently shaking my shoulder while handing me some food that he had gotten. “We’ve only got about an hour left… you need to eat, and I think we should talk about it.”

No. You can’t handle this, the car ride is hell as is… and now he wants you to talk about why you’re breaking his heart?

“There’s not much to talk about Jay… there isn’t any way to convince me that it was a mistake.” I can see the hurt look in his eyes when I say it, and I really didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh. “I love you so much… and I promise, this is for you.”

He starts to try and argue, before settling on asking about publicity. My only response is that we can deal with it separately. I finish my food, and finish the last few chapters of my book.

“”“”“”“”“”

It takes less than an hour to move all of my stuff into Ted’s guest room.

Ted is my best friend, and we’ve known each other for years. He introduced me to the job prospects of the internet. He introduced me to all of his colleagues when I was first starting on YouTube…

He introduced me to Jay.

After helping move everything in, Jay got ready to fly out. He said a quick goodbye to me, before going outside to talk to Ted.

They were out there for a really long time.

What if he’s convincing Ted that you are a horrible person?

What if they’re working together to get you put away?

What if you opened the window?

What if you jumped?

My phone is in my hand immediately, looking up the likelihood of injury/death from a second story jump. Very unlikely. Shit.

All of the sudden, the walls feel too close. The window is too far. I hear Jay’s Uber leaving, and everything starts to collapse.

This was a mistake. I just ruined the best thing that ever happened to me. It’s too late. He hates me. I should have just left a note and Jumped off the congress avenue bridge.

I can’t breathe.

I hear a soft knock at my door, and hear it creak open. Ted sits down in front of me, placing my hand on his chest. We work on breathing exercises that he taught me years ago. When I finally feel slightly normal, he pulls me into a tight hug.

“”“”“”“”“”

@unbruisable @bernardsbendystraws @sturniolo-fann @jnkvivi @stasiesturn

@h3arts4harry @slutforsturniolos @memento-rory