#like i wanted to cry and bile was rising in my throat

[ashblooddragons]

As The World Caves In

Request made by @valuemyheart1

Word Count: 1742

Summary: it's been three weeks since you lost your son to Blood and Cheese. and yet your breast will not dry, they become painful, and Aemond is all to happy to help relive that pain. (also Aemond was not with Syliv he was busy talking to some unnamed lord)

Warnings: memories of B&C, grief, P in V sex, breast worship, lactation kink, still new to smut so please be kind!

I can feel the weight of my breasts, feel how they are filled with milk for babe, it's painful and I should relive it, but there is no babe to feed to take this pain away. I've been fighting the memories, fighting the image of my little boy, my little Aenar.

Oh my sweet little Aenar, he was only five moons old when those monsters came in and took him from me. All for that little Strong boy. 

They were supposed to kill my loving Husband, my dear brother, Aemond. They might have if he wasn't speaking to some Lord that was in need of ‘dire advice from the prince’ I scoff at the thought. He was in dire need of my husband? Him? As I had to stand with a dagger to my throat as that blast cheese cut my son's head off? He needed my husband more? 

No, and there is a reason that the Lord is now being sharply questioned in the black cells. 

I can still see Aemond's face when he saw what they did to our little boy. He must have heard my screams after they sliced Aenar's little head off. He looked like he was going to be sick.

I hear something behind me, like stones scraping against stone. When I turn around to see what is wrong I see two men with knifes grinning at me, one rushes forward when he sees I'm about to scream. 

“You can scream lass, but if you do I'll kill ya. Do ya understand?” He asks, gliding the dull edge off his knife down the side of my face. 

All I can do is nod and pray that all they want is my jewelry. 

My nod seems to satisfy them as the bulky one lifts his hand from my mouth moving to reach for Aenar.

I gasp and step back holding Aenar closer to my chest cooing to him when he starts to cry. 

“What do you want? My jewels, you can have them just don't just my baby boy.” I plead helplessly. I gasp when the scrawny one rips the gold and ruby necklace from my throat.

“We were sent by the Queen, the true Queen. She wants payment for her son, and we were sent to make sure the deal was done.” The scrawny one says twirling his blade in his hands as he grins at me menacingly. 

For some reason this one scares me more than the goliath. 

“What does she want? What has my sister, the ‘true Queen’ , asked of you?” I ask feeling the pit in my belly grow, I have a sick feeling my jewelry is not what they are after. 

“A son for a son.” The goliath says pointing to Aenar who is still crying. 

I can feel his little tears soak into my silk robe, feel his little heart pumping in. I feel my throat constrict in dear, feel the bile rise in my throat. Black dots flood my vision as panic takes over.

“Give a price, want double the amount done. Just don't hurt my little boy. He's only five moons, please.” I beg but from the menacing smirk on the scrawny one, and the look of mock sympathy on the goliath I know they will kill my boy.

I tried to run but the Goliath grabbed me around the waist and held my head in place. “Told to take you to watch lass.” 

I watch as the scrawny one lays little Aenar on his changing table, raise his blade and strike down. It was a clean cut at least, as it only took that one swing for my little boy's head to fall off the table and  roll across the floor only to stop at my feet. 

I don't hear them leave, I don't hear the guards run in, I don't hear Aemond calling my name. I only heard screams and the blood rushing to my ears. When I turn I see nothing but Aemond, the way he can't decide where to look, our little boy or me. I watch as the blood drains from his face and his skin turns green. 

I don't know what to say besides one word. One word is all I need to say for Aemond to know who to kill for this crime against us.

“Rhaenyra.”

I'm cut out of my thoughts by the feeling of a hand on my shoulder. I whip around ready to attack only to find not a goliath nor a scrawny man, but my wonderful husband, my dear brother, I find Aemond.

“Sorry, I asked if you were alright?” He says with that tone that tells me he knows I wasn't here.

I about laugh at the question, how am I supposed to be alright? How am I supposed to ever be alright after what I went through? But instead of bringing up that night I decide to go a different route.

“My breasts hurt, the Maesters say I just have to wait for them to dry up, but they won’t. It hurts Aemond, it hurts.” I say flinching when I touch my tender and swollen breasts. It has only been three weeks since we lost our boy, and I haven't let a drop leave me. 

I watch his pupil dilate and hear him take in bated breaths. I know that look well, he's always adored my breasts but once I came with child and they grew, and once Aenar was born he seemed enthralled with the sight of our son suckling at my breast, one of the reasons I continued even though it is frowned upon for a Princess to feed her own child. 

“I could help,” he says breathlessly, making me confused how he could help me. “I could– I could relive that pain for you.”

“H–how?”

I feel his bated breath against my lips, feel the hardness of him against my hip. Try as I might I can't fight the desire that courses through veins, nor the wetness between my thighs. 

I watch as he moves so he is now hovering over me before he kisses my lips like a man starved. It has been so long since I felt desire, felt this need. I think as I move my hips so my core can meet his length. Though we're both still clothed, the friction is enough to make me breathless.

I gasp when he sits back on his haunches and lifts me so I'm on his lap. “Time to take that Nightgown off, Darling.” He says already raising it and I'm all too happy to help.

“Fuck.” I hear him whisper as he takes in the swell of my breasts, the rich pink of my nipples and the veins that have risen from prolonged fullness.

“Gods I've missed these.” He says kissing along the tender skin making me whimper in almost pain.

“They've missed you, my love.” I say smiling when I hear the guttural growl that leaves him.

Before I know it I'm laid on my back my Husband resting his hips against mine and my peaked nipple in his mouth. I feel each draw he takes, it's a strange relief, for the desire it brings to my core is undeniable, but so is the relief of that painful fullness and stretch. 

“Aemond.” I sigh out rocking my hips against his, I need more, I need him. 

“Fuck, if you keep doing that I won't be able to hold back.” He growls out gripping my hip and kicking up the milk that has dripped down my right breast. 

“Then don't.” I say gripping his hair and forcing him to look at me.

He may hate his eye, but I find there's something ethereal about his scar and sapphire. And even if it is the last words I say, the last thing I think before my last breath I will have him know I adore every part of him, even the scars and darkness. 

I feel him untying his trousers as he continues to suck and lick at my right breast. I feel each draw of milk leave me, hear the groan of pleasure he lets loose at each taste.

I feel the leaking head of his cock against my core, feel him hesitate from gliding into me.

“Please.” Is all I need to say before he drives into me with a punishing force. 

I can hardly catch my breath as he starts bullying my cunt with sharp hard thrusts as he moves over to my left breast. All I can think of is him, no more pain, no more grief, only Aemond and the pleasure he gives me. 

With each thrust and each drag from me teat I see stars, he has always known my body better than I ever could. He could always pick up the slightest frown or smile, and now he is seeing how he drives me mad with desire, how he takes my breath away. 

“You were made for me, from your nature to this sweet little cunt that grips my cock like a vice. There is no man, or god that will ever take you from me. Do you hear me?” He says emphasizing each word with a sharp thrust to the spot he knows makes me see stars.

“I was made for you, my love, only you, always you!” I scream out feeling my peak upon the precipice. 

With one more hard thrust, I’m screaming his name as I grip his long silky hair like a lifeline. My eyes go black from the force of my peak, and I can only barely hear him let ut a groan of pleasure before he spills in me, for all I can hear clearly is the beat of my heart. 

We lay like this for a while, his hands gripping my hips, my legs around his waist, and my fingers in his hair, and him buried deep within my core his cock acting as a stopper so his seed does not leak out of me.

We don’t say anything, for we do not need to, we know this was only a moment of release, of bliss, and that within time we will hold each other close, me sobbing into his chest and him letting silent tears fall into my hair. But we will have each other and that is all we will ever truly need.

@sugutoad @ilikefelines @mmogurl @classicsimpforaaronwarner @sachaa-ff

[huccimermaidshirts]

.

[trulyumai]

Be My Distraction

pairing: emperor geta / wife! reader

Synopsis: Bloodshed wasn't in your interest. good thing you had your emperor there to comfort ill feelings.

Warnings: blood, violence, fighting.

Enjoy!

You’ve been married for eight months and twenty three days. It was rough in the beginning— to be belittled so easily and forgotten within every moment the two of you spent together. 

But over time, the jokes, the pradling eased. He didn't grab you as much, or as roughly as he once did. The scratches, the bruises faded with time, no more did they grace your cheeks, your arms. 

You learned early on that the man craved violence— sought it out in the coliseums every so often. Blood didn't seem to bother the emperor, in fact, the more that the maroon color graced his presence, the better. 

You, however, could do without. 

It was so hot- so stuffy that day. Humidity clung to your skin like an unwanted sickness. Sweat dabbed at your brow as you tirelessly fanned at your face, sitting just beside Geta himself. The crowd was ever so loud, jovially crying out, impatient for the show to begin. 

The emperor sat, knees spread with an arm bent on the rest attached to the chair. 

“This will be a good one,” Beside him, his brother; Caracalla hummed in agreement, giggling at the aggressive pushes and shoves the citizens gave to one another. 

You couldn't imagine how hot it must be down there, so close to the pit. 

Even up in the stands, you thought you might melt. 

“Wife, did you hear me?” 

Flinching you looked back at Geta, meeting his intense gaze upon your form. 

“W-What?” 

“I said, are you ready to be entertained?” 

The movement in your hand stopped, it was useless trying to fight such a heat. Not wasting a breath you answered. 

“Of course, husband.” 

Smiling, the man stood and raised his arms to the citizens. Screams erupted, they cried out in response to the man of such power, of such terror. 

With his arms back at his sides; the signal was given. 

The fight could commence. 

Roughly turning back to the box, Geta sat upon the edge of the throne, waiting to see the first death of the match. 

Not wanting to disappoint him, you stood straight, facing the clashing of swords, the crying of men. A particular soldier had ill timing with his slash, missing his foe entirely. It left him open for a second, but that was all the time that was needed. With a quick slash, the man's entrails dangled from his stomach, painting the ground a bright red. 

It was unbearable to see such a display of violence, to see these men's lives end right before your eyes. 

Your palm met with the skin of your lips, afraid of the rising bile you covered your mouth tightly, eyes gazing over with wet desperation. 

A distraction— you needed one and quick. How embarrassing would it be for the wife of the emperor to throw up her morning meal? 

In front of her own citizens? 

Nothing was working, the sounds, the clashing was too loud. The blood littered the field, running freely over the crevices with its own dirtied purpose. 

Your breathing was beginning to be too fast, too quick to catch up with. 

Think, think, think- 

“Wife?” 

Oh gods. Not now. You couldn't take the poking, the showing of bodies that lay limp and torn. 

Geta noticed the desperation in your eyes, the way you squeezed your mouth shut like a tragedy just struck before the coliseum.

“Wife. Look.” 

“Geta please-” 

A hand reached out, a mirage of colors graced your vision. 

His hand? 

His.. rings? 

“Oh…” you sighed, reaching out with both hands to grip onto the bigger one in front of you. 

“New rings?” you smiled. The bile no longer burned the back of your throat, with ease it bubbled down and the taste of your previous meal left instantly. 

“Indeed. See this one?” His pinky moved lightly, it moved up and down meticulously.

You nodded and the jewelry around your neck sounded out. The man couldn’t help but look upon it, with a smile of his own. 

The golden chain you wore, decorated in the finest stones lay about your image, resting just above your collarbones. He remembered gifting it to you not long ago, just upon the third full moon of this month's harvest. 

Your touch brought him back to the present. To your sweating form.

“This one brings good fortune.”

“Good fortune?” 

“Mmh,” he agreed, once more setting his eyes on the show in front of him. 

Couldn’t show everyone how soft he could be with his betrothed. His reign would lose its footing; a weakness she brought, they would say to him.

“What would you need that for, dear husband, when you have so much already?”

He could see you from the corner of his eye. Saw the way you stroked at his fingers with a light- loving touch. 

Your hands were much softer than his, he had to resist letting out a pleased sigh at such a discovery. 

“There can always be more.” He spoke low, distracted by the onslaught of men that paraded around the ground floor. 

“...I suppose.” The nausea was replaced with a wave of comfort. His heavy hand sat atop your lap, with your smaller fingers dancing across the new set of rings upon the man's digits. 

“Husband?”

Geta hummed. With no response, it meant he was starting to get impatient, itchy with anger. 

“Can I hold your hand here, for a while?” 

The emperor didn't say anything for a concerning amount of time. The comfortability was wearing off with every scream and groan that left the pit. Swords clashed on and on. 

Not wanting to upset your husband further, you tried to back up, to take the words out of the air. 

“Im sorry, forgive me-” 

“I suppose.”

Geta’s eyes never strained from the fighting and yours never left his image. But even from the side, you could see a softness that wasn't there before. The way his hand relaxed against yours. Ever so rough upon your oiled and cared for palms. 

That was all that needed to be said. 

You watched on, caressing Geta’s hands every so often in unspoken affection. 

A/N: we love a man that can calm down his wife with barely any effort. something about big scary men being soft with their wife has me in a chokehold and im sorry

[togeblurbs]

Do You Miss Us?

Five Hargreeves x F!Reader - angst with a happy ending (yeah… happy ish ending)

synopsis: when you find out Five and Lila kissed, you don’t know what to feel. All you know is that you need to get away. Because it was one thing for them to kiss, and another to realize that in the time spent apart, Five Hargreeves may not love you anymore.

content/warnings: hints of anxiety, curse words, cheating, s4 spoilers, mentions of disassociation, morally grey characters, not lore accurate, not really canon, doesn’t focus on the plot moreso reader & fives relationship, lmk if i forgot anything

“Y/n, please,”

you continue walking, wiping away the incessant tears that stream down your face. you feel nauseas, and your chest hurts in a way that it pains you to breathe.

he catches your wrist in his hand, and you turn around, angered. “What? What could you possibly say that would make this better, Five?”

he looks distraught, if not more than you and the thought has your hands shaking in fury. for what reason did he have to be so upset? you weren’t the one who disappeared for a few hours - which ended up being seven years - and then kissed another person.

“I fucked up, I didn’t… You don’t understand, I was losing my mind.” he slips his hand from your wrist to intertwine your fingers, but you shake his grip off in disgust. he looks at you so brokenly at the action, you almost feel bad.

but then you remember her, and you feel the bile rise to your throat once more. “I don’t understand?” you say slowly, taking a step forward.

you point at him, “I think you’re the one who doesn’t understand. I knew some shit was going on between you two, with your secrets and odd glances. But I trusted you, Five. You know why?”

he looks at you with wide eyes, seeming almost unsettled by your outburst. “Because I loved you.” you whisper.

you huff out a laugh, shaking your head as you wipe the remnants of your tears. “But that didn’t matter in the end. You were alone with her for seven years, so it makes sense. I wish you nothing but happiness, Five. Even if it’s away from me.”

you turn, moving to walk again, but he crashes into you from behind and wraps his arms around you. “Please,” his hands are trembling where they rest on your stomach, and although you want to soothe him, you don’t think you are in the place to at the moment.

you take a shaky deep breath, before carefully untangling his hands from your torso. he whimpers pitifully at the action, and you have to stop yourself from giving in and drawing him closer.

you used to bring him comfort, give him love and make him feel safe; but it seemed it was not enough; because in the end he chose someone else.

you turn back around, “I need some time alone right now, Five.” you tug at your bottom lip with your teeth, ripping the skin. you don’t want to look at his face, so you choose to stare at the chipped paint on the wall.

Five lifts his hand for a moment, before dropping it. “Will you come back?” his voice has never sounded so childlike; as though he can’t bear the thought of you leaving and never coming back.

you swallow harshly, “I’ll come back.”

he nods, his own arms wrapping around himself.

“I just don’t know if it will be for you.”

you take a chance and glance at his face, hating the way your heart hurts when his expression crumples.

back in the room, you were so sure he was in love with Lila, but now you’re starting to doubt yourself. because if he truly felt something for her, would he really be crying in front of you right now?

you don’t know. you also don’t feel like you have it in you to make any assumptions.

you turn around, your back facing Five. “I’ll see you later. Don’t follow me.”

and with that, you walk out of Five’s life, unknowingly carrying his heart with you.

-

Five lays in a bed - not his, for years it’s never been his - and recounts the last seven years.

he remembers missing you immensely in the beginning. for the first three years, you were all he could think about.

and then his friendship with Lila began to grow. the time he wished to spend with you, he was now spending with her. it was odd at first, because the two were not close friends of any sort. but when you’re trapped in a different time-line, or different universe, you become allies with those you normally wouldn’t.

somewhere along the way, they had provided one another with the comfort they lacked from their significant others.

it wasn’t supposed to end up that way. it wasn’t.

but now Five can’t get the way you looked at him out of his head; it was like he physically shot you in the chest, or told you he didn’t love you. like he betrayed you.

he grasps at his own chest, curling up into a ball beneath the covers. he feels like he’s going to die.

and maybe that would be for the best. he’s lived a long, torturous life. with a nut-job for a father, siblings that were always thinking about themselves and a lover who he’d ruined everything with, what was the point of life anymore?

its been a month since Five had seen you, and the ache in his chest has yet to go away. he couldn’t find it in himself to eat, often laying in bed as Luther force-fed food down his throat in fear that he would truly pass away.

it’s just another late night, and Five takes the time to stare at the broken glass window as the sun begins to set. the only sound in the room comes from the clock, the constant ticks helping him disassociate and think about you.

he distantly hears the door creak open, but is too exhausted to look at who it is. he doesn’t really care anyway, because he knows it’s not going to be you.

“Five?”

he blinks slowly. it almost sounded like you, but he figured he was hearing things at this point.

“Five,” he feels a hand smooth over his shoulder. gentle in a way he’d only ever experienced with you. his head turns, if only slightly, and he catches sight of your concerned face.

his eyes widen, he forces himself to sit up even if his arms have little to no strength left. “What are you… what are you doing here?” he croaks.

you sigh, sitting on the edge of the bed. it’s far too away from Five, he wants to pull you in the bed and bring you into his arms.

“Should I leave?” you glance at the door for a second, but Five immediately grabs onto your hands and shouts, “No! No, please. Please stay.”

you look shocked at his outburst, nodding softly.

the silence in the room is deafening, but Five is merely happy you’re there. Seven years and then some apart from you was not easy, and after his last conversation with you, he knows he’ll feel unsettled until he makes it right. if he can make it right.

“I did some thinking.” you start, cautious.

Five watches you with fear, scared to hear your next words.

“I’m not angry anymore. I understand you went through a lot being trapped again, and I can’t blame you for falling in love with Lila since she was there for you. I do wish you broke it off with me before kissing her, but what’s done is done.”

your voice comes out stable, like you’ve thought it all through and are content to leave things as they are. but Five is shaking his head the moment you say the word love and Lila in the same sentence, because that could not be more far from the truth.

“Wait, please stop it,” he begs, seeming desperate.

“I understand why you might think that way, but I do not love Lila.” he feels lighter with the words being spoken. he’s been aching to clarify this the moment you found out they kissed, but hasn’t had the chance.

your brows furrow, and you pick at the cotton sleeve of your hoodie. “Um, I see.” you look so confused, he can’t help but move closer to you.

you look at him, body rigid. you don’t seem comfortable around him anymore, and the thought has him clutching his chest in pain.

“Y/n, I love you.”

you recoil immediately, and it prompts Five to reach out instinctively.

the words tumble out of his mouth, like he’s scared you’re going to run before he can finish getting everything out. “I haven’t stopped loving you, Lila and I.. when we, you know, it was a moment of weakness after losing you and being trapped again. I wished every day that I could see you, but I was stuck.”

you move to stand, and a part of Five’s heart breaks for what he thinks will be the last time ever. because if you walk out of this room, he knows he won’t be able to love again. you are it for him, and if he doesn’t have you, then he’d rather stay alone for the rest of his life.

“I’m sorry, I truly am. I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore, but I need you to know that I love you.”

at the end of his little speech he breathes out, listening to his heart thump loudly in his ears.

it’s odd, he thinks. love has always been so painful, so destructive. but with you it was simple. it was calm, steady and soft. he wonders; he hopes, that he’ll be able to experience it again. after all, a healthy type of love was rare for his kind.

he watches you walk closer, reaching a hand out and placing it on his cheek. he leans into it, closing his eyes as he missed your touch immensely. you use the other hand to push his hair back, planting a kiss on his forehead.

his eyes shoot open at the feeling, and he stares at you in wonder. he begins to feel hope bubble in his chest.

“You love me?” you ask quietly.

he nods, “Only you. Only ever you.”

you exhale, shoulders drooping as you move to sit beside him. you wrap an arm around his waist and one on his neck, pulling him down as you lay on the small bed. his head falls to your neck, and he sneaks a small kiss in, hoping you won’t push him away.

“I can’t promise that i’ll forgive you completely. At least not right now. And I’ll probably hate Lila forever, but I don’t think I can walk away from you knowing you love me.”

you run a hand through his hair, feeling him nod into the space between your head and your shoulder. “I know, I completely understand.”

you pat his head gently, staring up at the ceiling.

“I love you too, Five. I don’t think I ever won’t.”

he rubs his face into your neck, and you feel something wet touch it. you card your fingers through his hair once more, cooing.

“Thank you,” his voice comes out shaky, but he hopes you hear the sincerity.

you shift the two of you until you’re underneath the covers, cradling him in your arms with his head on your chest. “Don’t thank me yet. I will be making out with Diego as revenge.”

Five lifts his head, “What?!”

sorry if this is ooc:>

[emmyrosee]

SAKUSA ANGST??????❤️

By the time Kiyoomi gets to home, the moon is halfway past the skyline and high in space, and the bright light trickles through the blinds, carving your disappointed features while Kiyoomi jumps at the sight of you, standing firmly in the living room.

"Jeez," he snickers, putting his keys on the counter. "You scared me, baby, what're you doing up-"

"I know, Kiyoomi."

His brows furrow in confusion, but behind his dark pools, you see shame. And his eyes always gave him away. “What? What’re you talking about?”

You blink lazily, “I saw Hinata. You weren’t with him. Told me you never even texted him.” You shake your head, “if you’re going to commit adultery, make sure you have all your bases covered.”

He stays silent for a moment, letting his eyes cast down and avoiding your judgmental, hurt gaze. A hand comes up to scratch the back of his head, pick at a hangnail, jam into his pockets, anything and everything to not meet your betrayed looks.

“How long?”

“Baby, I-“

“Do not pull that manipulative shit on me,” you say exhaustedly. “Don’t start with that nonsense. I want to know how long. And I want to know who.”

He finally meets your eyes, “I made a mistake-“

“No no. New couples make mistakes,” you snap, hoping that by yelling out your frustrations you won’t cry the hot tears swelling in your waterline. “We’ve been together three years, you don’t get to make those kinds of mistakes, you don’t get to tell me not to worry about one person, then cheat on me.”

When he slowly lowers his hands, guilt struck in his gaze, you feel bile rising up your throat.

“It’s… your PR manager. Isn’t it?” You chuckle. “Your “work babe”? The one you assured me was over and done with?”

“No no, you’ve got to listen to me-“

“After I specifically begged you to tell me it wasn’t true, after you assured me nothing funny was going down, after you told me you’d gone to their house to fire them-“

He looks away. Darts his eyes again. Your hands come up to cover your mouth, “oh my god… you… went there to be with them- YOU WENT THERE TO BE WITH THEM WHILE I WAS HOME? WAILING OVER YOU?!”

He says nothing to defend himself, and you scream and jump up and out of your seat, grabbing the nearest pillow and smacking him with it. He shields himself with his arms, ducking slightly from your swings, but he doesn’t say anything. Nothing to change your mind, sway your thinking or deny, deny, deny anything.

“You lied to me!” You sob, finally losing your composure. “You lied square to my face, for what! For THEM?!”

“Baby, listen-“

“DONT FUCKING CALL ME THAT, SAKUSA!” You shriek, throwing the pillow down and meeting his teary eyes with your enraged ones. “Don’t FUCKING start with me!”

He calls your name in an attempt to calm you down, extending his arms to create distance, “it was a mistake, I made mistakes.”

“And that’s a crock of shit.”

“I thought I was missing something, and I thought they could give it to me! Honest! It meant nothing, just meaningless dates and kisses to try and fill something inside that I needed, and-

“You are not helping yourself right now, Sakusa,” you pant.

“I wanted to leave them, I swear on my mother-“

“And you couldn’t manage to do that.”

“So now what?” He chokes. “So-So-So are we just done? Three years just gone?”

“Because of you.”

“I’m not going to let this happen,” he sobs, collapsing to his knees and wrapping his arms around your legs. “Please, don’t leave me. I’ll fire them. You can go with me.”

“Clearly firing them isn’t going to make a difference,” you snarl. “Since your tongues been down their throat and god knows what else.” You shake him off your legs and continue to look down at him in distain, “I’ll have the boys send for my things. I’m staying with Osamu. Do not contact me anymore.” You shake him off your legs, and he looks up at you like a kicked dog.

“No-“

“Yeah, you don’t get to say no, anymore,” you snap. “Since clearly you had a hard enough time doing it for them. I’m taking control of the situation now. You will never make a fool out of me again.”

“Please,” he begs, “I hated it, I hated all of it, I-“

“Stop lying, Kiyoomi,” you shake your head. “It’s not worth it. You’re not going to sway me.”

At that, Kiyoomi stops. His eyes blink a line of tears down, his hands rest in his lap, and his bottom lip trembles. You take a deep breath, “please let Osamu in when he comes for my belongings.”

He says nothing. He merely continues to stare up at you desperately, pleadingly, and you scoff before making your way down the hall to grab your packed bag. “Unreal,” you hiss. “You are unbelievable.”

“You don’t have to leave,” he chokes. “You can stay here, I’ll leave, I’ll go to Bokuto’s, he’ll-“

“He’ll let you in and stay with him after you have the nerve to cheat on me?” You scoff. “Bokuto is not an idiot. He’s not going to just ignore the shitty things you do because you’re his teammate.”

Kiyoomi knows that if you walk through that door, you’ll never come back. You know it’s tearing him up inside, you see it in his exhausted features and you know it in your soul.

Good.

[sorrowfulrosebud]

Katsuki fumbled as the heavy wooden door of your mansion was nearly slammed in his face, you being the cause. Your infuriated strides didn’t stop as you reached the kitchen.

Katsuki felt his eyes burn and bile rise in his throat as he tried desperately to reach you.

“Baby, please! It was one time, and I didn’t even kiss her-,” he rambles worriedly, taking a step aback as you turn around.

Your eyes held nothing but pure fire and pain.

“Oh my FUCKING GOD Katsuki! You didn’t kiss her?! Oh that’s just wonderful, I totally forgive you for going behind my FUCKING BACK and fucking other women! That makes everything okay now!” You cry? Laugh? You couldn’t tell anymore.

Katsuki winces at your tears, pearly streaks of his own staining his cheeks. He reaches for you, heart breaking when you flinch away from him.

“Baby-,” he starts.

“Don’t you fucking DARE call me that you disloyal bastard,” you sob.

“I gave you my EVERYTHING, you son of a bitch! The nights I spent slaving over that fucking stove so YOU wouldn’t go hungry! I broke my back cleaning this fucking house, I give up my social life so we can be together, I bust my fucking ass doing stuff in bed I don’t want to do, ALL FOR YOU! I gave you EVERYTHING! So don’t you fucking dare try and have some balls now.” You sob through gritted teeth.

Katsuki sinks to his knees, openly sobbing and grabbing your hands. You tried forcing them back, but his grip was relentless. He pressed tearful kisses to your hands, amplifying your pained sobs.

“(Y/N), please! It was the worst mistake of my entire fucking life, of OUR lives. It was an act of stupidity, and if I could go back in time I would kill past me for even looking at her. It’s YOU I love, not her. It’s you, it’s always been you,” he gasped for breath, looking up at you. You paused.

“AAAAAAAND CUT! That was a great take everyone, go grab some lunch and be back in an hour to continue the shoot,” the director shouts, hopping off his pedestal.

You wiped your tears off, cursing the added tear stick as you laughed.

“Jesus Christ, that was a rough scene. How are you, baby?” You look down at him. Your smile was warm, a complete contrast to the character in the series you were acting in. Katsuki made no move to wipe his tears.

He rose slowly, before wrapping his arms around you tightly. He sniffled as he held you as close as possible, kissing the side of your face.

“Baby, are you alright? It was just a scene!” You giggle, kissing him on the forehead.

“If I ever make you sad like that, I need you to kill me. I would rather die than make you cry the way you just did,” he sniffed, wiping his nose and holding your cheeks.

“Aw sweetie. I know you’d never cheat on me. I love you so, so, so much. I guess we just did too good a job acting,” you giggle. You pull him in closer for a kiss, wiping his tears and playing with his baby hairs.

“I love you so much. Never ever forget that,” he says firmly. You nod, before squeezing out of his grip and tapping his ass playfully.

“Of course angel, now let’s get lunch. Sato made enchiladas and I’m craving them so badly,” you kiss him again. Katsuki’s phone beeped, and he checked before grimacing slightly.

“I’ll be right there babe, Eijiro’s complaining about something,” he says, squeezing your sides and sending you off.

You’re so fucking right, baby. He thought. His chest bloomed in pain. Ochaco’s bunched up tits stared right back at him in picture form, taunting him.

I did too good of an acting job.

[miley1442111]

transfer- s.reid

______________________________________________________________

a/n: intended for fem reader, but as always imagine what you like:)))))))))

summary: how your sudden transfer forces certain feelings to the surface

pairing: spencer reid x bau! reader

warnings: none

______________________________________________________________

“It’s an executive decision Y/n, they are not asking,” Hotch sighed and you felt bile rise in your throat as the team stared in horror. You were being transferred to the Pentagon. “I know this will be an emotional time for all of us-”

“It’s not emotional, it’s a horrible idea,” Spencer said, his voice calm despite the storm raging in his mind. He wouldn’t be able to see you everyday? Bullshit. “She’s a crucial member of this team-”

“Spencer, they aren’t asking. Strauss expects her to be back in DC within the next hour,” he explained and exited the room. Everyone fell silent and Spencer raised his eyes to meet yours. You looked terrified and angry, he hadn’t seen you this angry ever.  

Not only were you one of the most vital members of the team, you were the thing that made all this shit just that small bit easier to deal with. What would he do now without your teasing jokes? How would he even want to go to work when he knew he wouldn’t see your tired smiles in the mornings? When would he remember to rest if you weren’t reminding him? 

And how would he be able to tell you he was in love with you when he didn’t see you everyday?

“I-I’ll… I’ll go get my bag,” You sighed, accepting your fate and leaving the room, Spencer trailing behind you. 

“Y/n!” He called after you. “Wait, I-I’ll come with you to grab your things,” He internally kicked himself for not thinking of something better to say. When he caught up with you outside the building, he could see the tears falling from your eyes, even in the darkness of the night. 

“I don’t want to leave,” You sniffled. “I told them I didn’t want a new position, I told them that I was h-happy here, that I want to be h-here.”

Spencer took you in his arms, letting you cry into the side of his neck. Had the circumstances been different, he would’ve over thought about the fact that you were so close to him. So close that he could smell your hair, so close that he could feel your soft skin on his, so close that he was very much enjoying the way you clung to him. 

“I mean… I don’t have any say? T-there’s so much more I wanted to do… I- I had this whole plan-”

“It’s ok,” he soothed. “You’ll do great things at the pentagon-”

“Fuck the pentagon!” You exclaimed, pushing him off of you. “I wanted to… I wanted to tell you for so long, a-and then the moment never seemed right, a-and I just assumed I-I’d lost m-my chance and I’m was sure you were already s-seeing someone so it didn’t even matter but then we g-got even closer a-and-”

Spencer’s heart was beating out of his chest, were you trying to say what he thought you were? “What are you trying to say?!” He shouted over your rambling, stopping the pacing you were doing in front of him. 

“I’m in love with you!” You shouted back. Spencer stood there, stunned, as you anxiously waited for an answer. You got one in the form of the grin on Spencer’s face. One of his hands reached out and grabbed your waist, while the other cupped your cheek, pulling you in to kiss him. His lips against yours were electric. You were relieved that he felt the same way and you were ecstatic that he kissed you.

“I’m in love with you too,” he whispered against your lips, pulling away. Your hands rooted themselves in his hair as he kissed you again, only pulling away when the rest of the team cheered from the door. 

You two were met with congratulations and cheers, happy that the two of you had finally told each other how you felt. 

You walked onto the airstrip, Spencer’s hand in yours, not even scared for your new role. 

You had Spencer, what else did you need?

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, challengers, obx+)

[femcelzai]

CONTENT WARNING : yandere themes, implied kidnapping, bone breaking, toxic relationship

The room was quiet. Too quiet. The air was thick with a tension you couldn’t describe, though you knew exactly why it was there. Every sound you made was amplified in the silence—your shallow breaths, the rustling of the bed sheets as you shifted, trying to find a way out of this nightmare.

But you couldn’t.

Because of him.

Dazai sat at the edge of the bed, his brown eyes locked onto yours, an unsettling mix of affection and obsession. His smile was as wide as ever, a crooked curve of lips that once seemed charming. Now, it terrified you.

“You’re awake,” he murmured, his voice a soothing melody that somehow made it worse. His gaze flicked down to your legs, now bound beneath the covers. Your body trembled as you tried to move them, but the sharp, searing pain shot up from your knees. You gritted your teeth, fighting back a cry.

“You shouldn’t try to move, bellissima.” His tone was light, but his words carried the weight of a command. “You’ll only hurt yourself more.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you realized—you couldn’t move. Your legs… they were broken, shattered in places that you couldn’t even comprehend. Dazai had done it. Not out of rage or hate, but out of love.

His kind of love.

The twisted, possessive love that gripped you in the dead of night, that wrapped around your throat like a noose. He had taken everything from you, your freedom, your ability to run… your hope.

"Why?" you whimpered, your voice cracking with the strain of holding back sobs.

Dazai’s expression softened, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. You flinched, but there was nowhere to go. You were trapped.

“Because you kept trying to leave me, my dear,” he whispered, brushing a stray tear away with his thumb. His touch was gentle, loving even, but it sent chills down your spine. “I couldn’t have that. I can’t lose you.”

He leaned in closer, his warm breath fanning across your face. His lips ghosted over yours, and you tried to turn away, but he held you still, his fingers gripping your chin. “You belong to me now,” he whispered before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. It was slow, deliberate, a stark contrast to the violence he had inflicted on your body.

When he pulled back, he smiled that same crooked smile, as if nothing had happened. As if this was normal.

“You’ll understand soon,” he murmured, climbing into bed beside you, wrapping his arms around your trembling form. “This is the only way we can be happy. Together.”

You wanted to scream, to shove him away, but your body was too weak, too broken. Instead, all you could do was lie there as he pulled you into his chest, his warmth surrounding you like a cage.

Dazai hummed a soft tune, stroking your hair as if to comfort you, as if to lull you to sleep despite the agony coursing through your legs. He held you tight, his lips occasionally brushing the top of your head, as if reminding you of his presence, of his claim over you.

“Shhh, my love,” he whispered. “Don’t cry. You’re safe now. No one will ever take you from me.”

You swallowed down the bile rising in your throat, your mind spinning with the horror of it all. There was no escaping him. Not now, not ever. You were his, and he would never let you go.

As your eyes grew heavy, exhaustion overtaking you despite the fear, Dazai kissed your forehead one last time.

"Goodnight, my darling. I’ll always be here when you wake up."

The darkness swallowed you, his embrace the last thing you felt as you drifted into a restless sleep, haunted by the man who had taken everything from you—all in the name of love.

A / N : this was lowkey so fun to write, I love yandere but yandere Dazai has a special place in my heart (he's my favorite lmao)

[sarawritestories]

I Died With Her

Eris Vanserra X Fem Reader

Summary: Beron discovers your mating bond...A cruel prophecy fulfilled.

Content Warning: Death of Main Character, Murder, Unnatural cruelty, Beron's demise.

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: Its short and angsty...and I may be persuaded to make a part two. I also apologize if this one is not my best. I'm in a slump but this

Eris’s blood ran cold as he entered the throne room. His brothers grinning in cruel delight. His father standing in front of a throne that he did not deserve. Beron’s hand threaded through the now tangled mess of your hair. Forcing you to look your mate in the eye while your knees dug into the concrete. Tears streamed down your face as you met Eris’s russet eyes. Memorizing every sharp angle of his beautiful face, every freckle that kissed his pale skin, try to remember the feeling of his soft, thick locks through your fingertips. Memorizing the sweet scent of the fall breeze, embers with a hint of cinnamon that brought you so much comfort. Your beautiful mate, best friend, love of your life.

If only you had had more time.

Eris was staring at you as well, memorizing your sweet doe eyes, the plump curve of your lips, your smile, the warmth of your skin against his. The things he may never get a chance to encounter again, your laugh, your soft snores as you laid on his lap, the way you would scrunch your nose when reading your book, or how your body eased and relaxed simply being near him. How you were his equal in every way and how his body sang in harmony with yours. Clearing his throat he placed his cool mask on, “What is the meaning of this?”

Beron’s smirk was cruel as he yanked your hair back causing you to yelp. “I found something that belonged to you. I must say the bitch was hard to find.” Eris snarled as Beron released his grip and kicked your back, your hands and knees preventing your face from colliding with the ornate flooring. “She is yours isn’t she, Boy?”

“I would never sully myself with a common whore.” Lies, lies. The words felt like ash against his tongue. You lifted your head only slightly, and the solitary wobble of your lower lip broke his façade. Eris met his father’s gaze with fury in his russet eyes and fire roaring through his veins.

“There he is. Eris the lover.” Beron taunted pressing his foot against your back forcing you down on the cold marble and you cried out. “I didn’t raise you to be a romantic.” Beron snarled.

“You didn’t raise me at all.” Eris retorted his lip curling upward.

Beron quirked, “I should have known. Well, it’s a good thing I handled that problem already.” The High Lord of Autumn clapped his hands forcing his weight down on you causing you to whimper in pain. You reached out for Eris, only for one of the guards to intentionally step on your delicate fingers and you bit back your scream. As the guard approached with the head of Eris’ mother detached from her body.

Eris felt the bile rise from his throat at the sight and he clutched at his chest.

“Eris, I want you to listen to me.” The Lady of Autumn held her son close to her bosom. Eris, barely six, snuggled close to the warm scent of his mother. “One day, you are going to find your mate.” She smiled and tucked a loose strand of his copper red hair behind his ear and the young fae leaned into his mother’s touch. “When you do. You need to promise me to take care of them. Love them with all your heart.” She gripped his chin, “You keep them away from your father. Run far away from here.”

Eris scrunched his face, “I don’t want a mate. I want to be with you forever.” He smiled up at his mother, He tilted his head as he watched his mother’s eyes line with silver. “Mama, why are you crying?”

She pressed her soft lips against his forehead, “I just love you so much, My little flame.” Leaning her head against the top of his, “You can be with me for as long as you want.”

“Get off me!” You shrieked bring Eris to the presence, flames licking his skins as two of his brothers grabbed a hold of you to keep you in place as Beron fetched for a blade and Eris’ flames banked out. Your eyes found his once more and she mouthed “I love you.”

He mouthed those three letters back and then bolted toward his father, but not before two of his younger brothers grabbed him and forced him on his knees. Tears began to form, blurring his vision, he desperately tried to blink away to memorize every crevice of your face. “Eris,” Your voice cracked, and Eris could feel your fear and love shot down the bond to him and he felt his heart breaking. “I will see you in the next life. Being your mate has been the greatest gift the cauldron could ever have granted me.” Eris let loose a broken sob. “Promise me. You will move on. You will find reasons to smile. Love freely. Remember that I loved you.”

Eris could barely see, his breathing shallowed as the pain flooded his entire body. “I love you, Little Flame. I’m so sorry.”

You smiled, “I’m not. Being loved by you was the closest thing I would get to The Mother. If I could do it over and never change a thing.” Tears streaked your perfect face and yet being the brave female, he knew you where you straightened your posture. And the last words Eris heard, your sweet voice echoing through the throne room. “Long Live the High Lord of The Autumn Court.” Her eyes drifted to Eris as the eldest Vanserra son watched his father approach. “Eris Vanserra.”

The sword sliced through the air and Eris’s scream thundered through the entire continent. Eris’s body moved on its own, consumed by rage and grief and the numbness that came with the bond deteriorating. In the manner of thirty seconds, Eris Vanserra had lost everything…

And then he saw red.

Refusing to look at the floor, not wanting to see your head detached from your body. He refused to think about the plans he had made with you, a wedding, a family, a life of freedom, a chance to run away. Gone. At the hands of the man who was laughing with his brothers about your demise.

No one disrespects his mate.

Eris had no memory of the events that occurred when he rose to his feet, but when he was done, the entire throne room was in flames, the screams of his brothers and his father drowned by the familiar crackling sound of his flames. Letting the throne room burn, he exited out into the forest, your headless body in his arms. Eris felt nothing, the gold thread that once shined bright, fell limp and became ash. As Eris buried your body in your favorite clearing, he knew one thing was certain.

Any kindness he held in his heart died with you.

Story Taglist:

General Tag: @milswrites @lady-of-tearshed @tsunami-of-tears @readychilledwine @ceoofyearning

@velariscalling @daycourtofficial @prythianpages @writingcroissant @itsswritten

@illyrianbitch @acotarxreader @pit-and-the-pen @nocasdatsgay @labyrinth-of-stories-and-stars

@ninthcircleofprythian @thelov3lybookworm @riddlesb1tch @lilah-asteria

@kylaisra @nickishadow139 @aelincaddel @nighttimemoonlover @demirunner

@marvelbros-oneshots @mybestfriendmademe @le

[allisluv]

this is definitely not inspired by a recent dream of mine

if you had a wet dream about finnick odair. GOD IF YOU HAD ONE ... the first thing you feel when you wake up in the semi-darkness of your room, your eyes squinting at his still sleeping figure, would be SHAME. you just feel miserable because you feel like you're like these capitol's citizens who are unable to see past his divine beauty </3

you go to get a glass of water, and wake up with finnick, half asleep, in the doorway, concern on his face. you don't want to tell him directly what is the cause of your awakening but we all know that he will manage to get the words out of you.

he does not blame you for a moment. "you should see my dreams about you", he says without a care and leaves you speechless. and then ... the dream becomes reality <3

he wears the most smug look after + says something like "i bet it was better than that dream"

— 🫀

dreams.

summary: finnick takes care of you after an... imaginative dream

a/n: hi hi hi! i've never written smut before so constructive criticism is welcome just please don't be mean because i will cry (fr) thank you anon for your request + i hope this lived up to expectations <3

content warnings: established relationship, porn with a little dash of plot, oral (fem!recieving), praise kink, use of the phrase good girl, unprotected p in v (please wrap it before you tap it), lots of consent and finnick being cheeky as always. oh and not proofread for the time being

pairing: finnick o'dair x fem!reader

It takes a while for you to register your surroundings when you shake yourself awake. It's dark in your room and you have to squint in order to make out Finnick's sleeping figure next to you. His chest rises and falls in shallow breaths and you're relieved that you didn't wake him.

As the dream runs through your head like an old movie, you squeeze your thighs together to get rid of the ache between your legs. Shame bubbles in your chest and bile hits the back of your throat.

Wasn't this exactly what the people in the Capitol did? Got off to the thought of him kissing his way up their bodies? You bite the inside of your cheek until you can’t focus on anything other than the metallic taste of blood flooding your mouth.

You pull the covers back and swing your legs over the side of the bed, padding across the wooden floorboards in your bare feet. Flicking on the light switch in the kitchen, you grab an empty glass before filling it with cold water from the faucet.

A pair of warm hands sneaking their way around your stomach is the first thing that you manage to register in your hazy mind. Finnick presses a kiss against the shell of your ear before asking, "What’re you doing up this early, honey?"

"Couldn't sleep," you murmur, setting the glass back onto the marble countertop. “Did I wake you?”

Finnick presses a kiss to the crown of your head as his fingers trace patterns up and down your arms. “Your side of the bed was cold. Was wondering where you'd gotten to, that's all," he shrugs and turns you around to face him. "You gonna tell me whats going on in that head of yours? Was it a bad dream?"

You slide onto the countertop and Finnick's hands instinctively fall to your hips. "Something like that," you mutter. "It's nothing."

"Doesn't sound like nothing," he prompts, gently using his thumb and index finger to tilt your head towards him. Your gaze remains glued to the wall behind him but he angles his head to catch your eye. "I need you to use your words, baby, cause I don't understand."

You shift uncomfortably on the countertop, praying that he'll drop it, (which isn't likely to happen, because Finnick O'dair is the text-book definition of stubborn). "I didn't have a bad dream."

"Then what was it?" Finnick asks, his eyebrows knitting together in a blend of confusion and concern. Warmth creeps across your cheeks. "Oh."

You try to bury your face in your hands but his reflexes are quick and he catches your wrists in between his fingers. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about, baby. You should see my dreams about you," he grins proudly. "Why didn't you say something sooner, honey? Are you gonna let me take care of you?"

Goosebumps rise on your skin as your tongue runs over your lips. You nod without making a sound.

Finnick's fingers skim the lace at the bottom of your nightdress. He's teasing. "Gotta hear you use your words, baby." His hand trails higher and higher until he's tracing feather-light touches along the outline of your black underwear. "Come on, use your words for me."

Your heart beats against your ribcage as he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your stomach. It's hard to think when your thoughts are consumed by him. He pulls your nightgown up to your hips, exposing your damp panties. His thumb toys with the hem. "Please," you whine breathlessly.

"Please what baby?" he peers up at you through his lashes. "You know I'll give you whatever you want, just need to hear you say it."

"Please fuck me."

He gives a satisfied hum and sinks to his knees in front of you. "Good girl. My gorgeous, needy girl. Am I gonna find you soaked under here?" His fingers work the soft material down your thighs. "Can I?"

"Please touch me." Your hips chase forward in search of his hand and he runs his fingers through your folds. Your eyes squeeze shut, hand balling his white shirt into your fist. "Oh my god."

He drops his hand and buries his face in your cunt, tongue easing you open as he tracks his way to your clit. Your hands find purchase in his hair and you tug hard.

"You feel so good," you scratch his scalp with your blunt nails and he moans into your cunt. Finnick reaches between your legs, his fingers feeling between your folds as he sucks on your sensitive clit. Familiar tightness was coiling in your core and, as if he could sense it, Finnick stood up.

You whined at the loss of contact but he swallowed it with a kiss. His warm hands smooth your hair out of your face and back behind your shoulders. He was always so gentle with you.

You threw your head back and he obliged by trailing wet kisses down the expanse of your neck. He hummed against your skin as you tug at the hem of his t-shirt desperately.

Finnick chuckles as you strip him of the thin cotton. You toss it to the side, not bothering to look where it lands. All you can focus on is how much you want him to fuck you.

Finnick kisses you lazily and pulls down his sweatpants and boxers in one go. You palm his bare cock and he twitches in your hand, hot and heavy. "Are you sure you're ready for me baby? I don't wanna hurt you or anything," he frowns.

You kiss the crown of his forehead and pull your nightgown over your head. The cold air nips at your bare breasts and Finnick's eyes darken at the sight. "I can handle it. Please, need to feel you."

Finnick grips your hips in his gentle hands and lines himself up with your entrance. His tongue slips into your mouth as he pushes into you with such force that the breath is knocked from your lungs. No matter how many times he fucks you, it always takes a while for you to accommodate to his size.

He presses gentle kisses to your nose and your cheeks before finally brushing his lips against yours once more. "You still with me, honey?" He brushes a hand across your forehead, wiping away the strands of hair that had gotten stuck from the sweat. "Being such a good girl for me, sweetheart. Always so good for me. Stretching me so well."

Your pain soon morphs to pleasure and as your hips cant forward, he thrusts to meet you. "Feel so full, Finnick," your nails drag against his bare back, no doubt leaving marks.

"Yeah?" Finnick smirks, lifting one of your legs and wrapping it around his waist. The angle drives him deeper inside you, and to make it even more impossible to string together a coherent sentence, he drags his tongue over your sensitive nipples. "Are you getting close, baby? Yeah you are, I can feel you squeezing me."

He kisses you slowly as he pushes his hips to meet yours again. Your mouth leaves his and you kiss along his jawline, moaning into his ear as he fucks you. "Finnick," you whine, clinging to the space between his shoulder blades. It's the only word you can think of. Your thoughts are consumed with him.

"I've got you, honey," he hisses as his hips slam into you. "Come for me. You're beautiful, baby. Come for me, I know you can do it, I'm so close--"

Finnick surges up to capture your mouth in a kiss as your orgasm washes over you like the waves outside your house. Finnick's hips still and you can feel his warm seed pumping into you.

Too exhausted to hold yourself up, you collapse against Finnick, who holds you close as you both come down from your high. Your kisses are sloppy and languid but you feel so warm, so full, that nothing else really matters.

You whine when he pulls out but it's not so bad when he's soothing it better with soft kisses and gentle caresses. He whispers that he loves you and offers to carry you to the bath but not before getting one smart remark in. "Bet I was better than in the dream, huh, honey?"

[hughiecampbelle]

Malignant (Homelander Oneshot)

((TAKES PLACE IN S4E4))

Character/s: Homelander

Word Count: 1,468

Warning/s: gore, sort of all the basic warnings The Boys typically has

Requested: Hii! I’ve just found your blog, read some of your works and loveee them! Especially The Boys Preferences and imagines! May I request a platonic Homelander x reader with the prompts: Fury, Shooting Stars, “Get away from me” ? Thank youuu! - anon

A/N: Y'all when I tell you you're not ready!!! When I say I love this I mean I cannot stop smiling!!! I am Victor Frankenstein and this is my monster lol. Thank you for requesting my love! I hope you like it!!! Feedback is always appreciated!!! 💜💜💜

Requests are open! 🔮

Get away from me. The words come out as a whimper, barely above a whisper. His features contort: insecurity, rage, struck dumb by your reaction. Despite himself, he smiles, trying make sense of it all. This is what we’ve always wanted. They deserved it, all of them. Why can’t- why can’t you see that? He takes a step closer and you react by moving further back, through the doorway. Your shoe makes a squeaking sound. Beneath the sole something squelches, wet and gummy. You don’t have to look down to know what you’ve stepped in. It’s splattered across the walls and ceiling. The entire room painted red. Faceless, headless, limbless bodies dropped across the floor. You’ve stepped on someones intestines, their insides strewn across the floor like shooting stars. Here and there are articles of clothing, a shoe without their twin, a name tag or Vought issued ID. You don’t recognize them. Many of them new hires. They weren’t around all those years ago. They took no part in what happened to you, to either of you. Bile rises in your throat. It’s the smell that’s the worst. Metallic. You can taste the iron on your tongue. Not just that, though. The heater was still on. Though the body was ash, the stench of burned skin and hair lingers. It’s thick, and hot, and disgusting. The warmth radiates off it, seeping into the rest of the lab. It leaves you fighting your nausea, your hatred, the two churning in your stomach. Why, why are you mad at me? He’s drenched in their blood. It’s dried across his face, his suit and in his hair. How long has he been with the bodies? You killed them, John. You killed them all. 

Despite what the media portrayed, your childhood wasn’t baseball games and apple pies. There was no mother to rock you to sleep or father telling you you were a great kid. There were no little sisters to play with or teasing from big brothers. No white pickett fence or a sweet, yet obedient, dog running around. There was sterility. There were test tubes, and locked rooms, and tests. There were knives, and guns, and fire. You and him, you were invincible. They wanted to test that. They wanted to see just how far you could be pushed before you broke. Your skin was impenetrable, but that didn’t mean it didn’t burn every time they shoved you into that chamber. You’d pound your fists against the door, begging and screaming, every inch of you engulfed in flames. Sometimes it still felt like you were burning. In dreams, maybe when the weather was warm. You were just a little kid. You thought (feared) this time would be the last time. This is how you would die. Your tears evaporated before they could fall. You’d call out for them, for the pseudo father figures. When that wasn’t enough, when they refused to move from their charts and lazy game of paper ball, you’d cry for John. Your companion, your brother, your friend. He’d be enclosed in his own hell. Eventually you learned to be quiet. Eventually you learned you would survive. No one was coming to save you. No one was going to stop this. You’d watch, day in and day out, first your skin, your muscles, until the fire kissed your bones. You’d come to hours, days later, completely healed. Not a single scar carved into your flesh. No evidence except your memories. 

If you were good, if you were well behaved, you might be rewarded. Taught a new game or trick. Tic-tac-toe had been an exciting discovery at the time. You’d liked playing O’s. John liked X’s. Hangman was another. Always with a dull pencil, just in case. You’d be sniffling, hiccupping, leftover from the sobbing, when they’d sit you on the lab table and ask you to guess a letter. They weren’t the kinds of words children should have heard, but how could you have known? Psychopath. Indestructible. Malignant. You didn’t know the meanings or, for a long time, how to spell them, but you heard them a lot. They were household names. If they were feeling generous, kind, they might give you more chances: add a face, a hat, a bowtie. Through tears you’d laugh at the ridiculousness, pointing out that the hanged man could not possibly be as accessorized as they were making him to be. You never liked when the game was over. Win or lose, it always meant the same thing. One man, much older than everyone else, would lift you up and carry you back to your cell as if you were his own. You’d cling to him, his shirt, clutching tight with your chubby, dimpled hands, watching over his shoulder as someone else would discard the pieces of paper, throwing them away. You wanted to keep them, have them to laugh at the silly stick figure when it was dark and you were all alone, but you wouldn’t dare ask. If not the man, then a young woman who’d lead you back, hand in hand, full of promises you both knew she would not keep. Talk of real games, with boards and pieces and cards. But when the time came again, when you did as you were told, all you were allotted was a piece of paper and pencil. 

Her body was the first you recognized. Faceless yes, but you knew her as well as you knew yourself. Barbara. She was like a mother to you. Albeit, a terrible one. A cold, uncaring, aseptic woman who studied you, who created you, made you the person you are today. Wasn’t that all mothers? She’d hush your cries, ask why you were so upset. You didn’t have the words, the vocabulary, and so she’d grow tired. Bored. When you could articulate yourself better, then you would be worthy of her time. Truthfully, you weren’t all that sad she was dead. She must’ve known what was going on. She must’ve seen or heard something. At night, when they came into your room. When they made you promise to keep it secret. Couldn’t she tell? Couldn’t any of them? Armies of psychologists couldn’t get the truth out of you, not that they were trying to. Their alliances rest elsewhere. Fear of abandonment had been ingrained into you. You’d cry even harder, begging her not to leave, not to go. She’d pretend she had no other choice, that it was your fault. You were a crybaby. A sissy. An imbecile. If you could not pull yourself together and act like an adult, she would have no choice but to get up. Beneath the hurt was a fury, a burning, but they had you trained well. Instead you screamed, begged, throwing yourself to the floor, into walls, harming yourself for an ounce of her attention. Affection. Circles of red stained the walls where your head had been bashed. Your clothes ripped and torn. Your tantrums were spectacular. Fantastical. Eventually you’d grow tired, exhausted. Bloody, you’d sit very still and breathe and wait for her to come back. Then, and only then, would she grace you with her presence.

You hoped the bitch suffered. 

Marty rests limp, his face crushed in, a hole lasered through his groin. You knew the story, the nickname. He tried to get you to call John that peculiar name, too. Try to get you in on the joke. You never did. He had names for you, too. Just as vulgar and perverted. No one ever stopped him. No one ever said it was inappropriate. You guessed when you were being gutted, sliced from collarbones to pelvis, turned into a living autopsy, harassment wasn’t such a big deal. You stepped over his body without a second though. Footsteps to follow from his skull (what was left of it) to where John stood. This is very bad. You find your voice again, inspecting the lab around you. The cake sits melted in it’s pink box. The lights flicker. There is an unsettling silence. But I, I did it for you. His eyes are wide, his pupils dilated. His grin is hysterical. John, you start, but the rest of your sentence clatters to the floor. He watches you, desperate for your approval, your appreciation. They did terrible things to you. They let terrible things happen to you, unspeakable things. Why should you be upset? Why should you mourn them? Why should their gruesome deaths fill you with anything but satisfaction? They deserved it. They were asking for it. You slide away the mans large intestine, wiping the blood from your shoe.  Thank you, you say finally, placing your hands on his shoulders, squeezing them. He breathes out a sigh of relief. Thank you, it means a lot.

[c1eepypas1a]

Can you do some dark Dean Winchester smut? With an age gap, daddy kink, and virgin reader?

A/n: I can only try, this is my first smut pls don't make fun, plus I dunno how to do the writing color change thingy, cringe ahh title name (plus: this is fictional, I know it's fucked up but honestly I've been through shit like this, and if you don't like it, don't read it, there are multiple fics like this, I'm just doing what people want okay?)

Parings: dean Winchester x fem! Virgin!sub! Reader (I can do a male version if it's not supposed to be fem)

Warnings: age gap (dean is 29 reader is 18, daddy kink, dean forcing reader to call him daddy/dean calling himself daddy, non-con, pain for the reader, forced oral (m!rec), tit palming/slapping, slight choking, kissing, swearing, obviously Dom!dean and sub!fem! Reader, nipple play (for like a second), crying, blood (slightly yk since she's a virgin)

"Please, don't...daddy."

*gif isn't mine I got it from Pinterest*

*readers pov*

Me and dean have been friends for awhile now, he thinks I'm stupid, that I don't know about all the staring or lingering touches when he's fixing up my wounds, I hate the looks, I remember when it all changed, when he changed

*flashback*

I smile as I walk into my house with jo, I jump as everyone shouts surprise at me,my dad, bobby singer walks up to me "wow kid, the big 18, do you feel older yet." He smiles warmly and I smile "uh, yeah I guess." I giggle, dean makes a backhanded joke about me finally being legal,

Sam rolls his eyes "dude, your almost thirty, stop being so gross, you knew her when she was in pigtails." Dean grumbles and hands me a present, telling me to open it later when nobody's around and his hand lingers on my shoulder,

That night I open the gift dean gave me, a fucking vibrator, in the shape of a rose and a photo of him, gripping his clothed hard cock, I quickly throw it under my bed along with the vibrator and I pretend nothing ever happened.

*end of flashback*

I walk into the motel room, I look at dean who's binging through channels on the tv "where's Sam?." I sit down next to him, "gone to get food." I nod and I continue to watch the tv, dean lands on a horror movie,

My eyes wander to the hand he placed on my thigh, I don't move it nor I say anything and I get back to watching the shit gore on the tv, "you know sweetheart, sammy's gonna be gone for a while." He says in his usual flirty tone, his hand sliding more up, I push his hand back down, "so what if he's going to be gone." I say feigning my clueless tone, bile rises in my throat as I feel his eyes move down from my face to my tits, "means we could find other things to do then this shitty ass movie." He grips my thigh tighter, borderlining on pain "d-dean what the fuc-" I'm cut off by his lips on mine,

I try to push him away and get up but he pins me down and he tsk's "no, your not going anywhere, I've waited to fucking long for you, I'm not letting you go now." He smirks and starts to undo and push down his jeans "as much as I want your cunt, I'm gonna use your mouth first."

He manhandles me so I'm on my knees, tears sting my cheeks and he smiles condescendingly, "oh baby, you started this, this is your fault, parading in your short shorts and your tight shirts, wearing no bra thinking I won't notice." He says, gripping my hair with one hand and palming my tits and thumbing at my nipples with the other, against my mind praying for this to stop, my body reacts, my nipples getting hard and my cunt getting wet, he smirks at me, pushing down his jeans, leaving himself in his boxers, the imprint of his dick visible,

He stops palming at my breasts and pulls his boxers down, his hard cock slaps against his stomach, leaking pre-cum at the angry red tip, "open up for daddy." He smirks but I don't, I keep my mouth shut and he gets visibly annoyed, he grips my hair tighter and then his other hand closes my nose, "c'mon baby, you gotta breathe soon." He says in a condescending tone,

I try my hardest but I finally open my mouth to breath, he quickly shoves his cock down my throat, I gag and spit forms around my lips and his length, he lets go of my nose and I try to breathe but its hard, "you know, this all could of been avoided if you didn't play fucking coy with me.", he says as he practically skull fuck's me, gripping my face and hair, thrusting his hips roughly,

After about 5 minutes he finally pulls away, I take a deep breath of air,tears streaming down my face, he roughly pulls me up against him, his cock against my clothed stomach, he pushes me down and sits in between my legs, trying to push my shirt up but I twist and I turn to get away, "c'mon babygirl, the less you resist, the less it'll hurt your little virgin pussy." I whimper at those words,

After what felt like forever of struggling, he finally gets my clothes off of me, leaving me in my panties, "lace...it's like you asked for me to fuck you.", I cry at those words "c'mon baby tell me how much you want this, tell daddy how much you want his big cock to stretch you open." He grins sadistically, I stay silent and dean doesn't like that, I feel his hand strike my left breast, "say it!." He shouts in my face, I whimper and I finally speak with a scared tone, "i-i want d-daddy's big cock to stretch me open." He smirks, "that's a girl.",

"please don't...daddy."

That's all I can say hoping that will please him but before I know it he thrusts into me, pain shoots through my whole body and I start to cry again "awe, baby don't cry, daddy's got you." He says as he fuck's me faster, taking away the one thing I thought I could control, but I can't, I'm helpless as he takes it from me, I feel liquid down at my pussy and I look down, I notice the crimson liquid leak down my cunt,

"I fucking knew you would bleed, don't worry sweetheart, it won't hurt that much anymore.", he says as he fuck's me harder, it hurts, no pleasure from it, I beg for him to stop, I cry to god that it'll be over soon and before I know it, I feel him pull out and his cum spurt on my tits and stomach, I feel dirty as dean kisses me before he flops down beside me and cuddles me, like he didn't just destroy me, exhaustion takes over me, before I slip into sleep I hear dean mutter something and I fall asleep.

*the end*

(a/n: my first smut, I hope it was good, if there is any mistakes or anything you didn't like please tell me, I'm sorry it's so short, I wrote this at 1am.)

[siriuslystyle1989]

In Sickness and In Health

Harry styles x Sick!reader

warnings: Vomiting, sickness, fluff, non-sexual nudity

Masterlist

Tummy gurgling like a newborn baby, Y/n was quick to realise something was wrong. As nausea penetrated her senses she slowly began to feel her mouth water.

Dashing towards her and her husbands shared bathroom, Y/n felt the bile rise in her throat as she began coughing up her dinner.

She tried to be as quiet as possible as to not wake her sleeping husband but her efforts were in vain as she felt his calloused hands reaching up to her neck in an effort to hold her hair.

"its alright baby, let it all out." he spoke, his voice laced with sleep.

After about 5 minutes of pure sickness, Y/n slumped at the side of the toilet bowl, her head resting on the seat in exhaustion.

"You think you're done Angel?" Harry spoke while rubbing a comforting hand on her back. "You think you're ready to come back to bed?"

To this, Y/n couldn't even reply, too tired to even lift her head off the toilet seat.

"You gotta speak to me sweetheart, I need to know how to help you." Harry whispered so softy Y/n could cry.

He was always so good in situations like this. She had had boyfriends in the past that had been disgusted when she was ill. but not Harry. Never Harry. He was always attentive and caring, and made her feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Even when she had vomit stained on her shirt.

Y/n whimpered slightly as she lifted her head up to look at Harry. He gave her a sympathetic smile and stated "There's my girl, you think you're okay to brush your teeth?"

Y/n gave a slight nod.

To this, Harry gently picked the girl up, cradling her head as if she was the most fragile thing he had ever held, and placed her on the bathroom counter to brush her teeth.

He then picked her up once more and placed her on their shared bed.

"Just sit there and look pretty while I get you some new pjs" he smiled, hunting through the wardrobe for her favourites.

Harry began to peel away her vomit stained pyjamas carefully, making sure to look in her eyes and nowhere else.

Once she was snug in her fresh pyjamas Harry tucked her into bed, however to Y/n's dismay he then began to walk away.

"don't leave me." she managed to blurt out, worried he was going to leave her alone to sleep.

"Jus' popping downstairs to get u some medicine my love, don't worry I'll come straight back."

And true to his word he did. At this point however, Y/n was already drifting off.

"Not yet love." Harry spoke, endearingly passing her two nausea pills and a glass of water. "Take these and then you can sleep I promise"

Harry then got into bed next to Y/n, careful not to touch her in worry of it causing her to feel ill again.

"Harry" Y/n muttered on the brink of collapse.

"yeah baby" he replied, looking at her in the darkness.

"please can you hold me?" She whined, just wanting to feel him close.

"of course love." Harry gently grabbed Y/n guiding her to his chest where he placed one arm on her head and the other around her waist.

snuggling her head deep into his neck, Y/n spoke once more "Thank you for always looking after me Harry."

"Of course my love, in sickness and in health."

A/N: His guys, this is my first fic on this account as my other account got deleted :(. If you could show this some love that would be great!! im also taking requests so if you want anything im totally happy to write whatever. hope u have an amazing day!!!

[crowsandkisses]

De-polute me - Astarion x reader

Note: Astarion means a lot to me as a character and this is kinda based off of my own trauma because I see a lot of myself in him. I also haven't written in a minute so pardon any weird phrasing.

The reader is as vaguely described as I could manage so any and all can enjoy

cw: Trauma, vomit, panic attack.

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

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Astarion knew he had to snap out of it. To come back to the present where he lay with his lover. But he couldn’t.

It was like watching the world through water. Everything was the same but somehow not. Like there was a distance and the other side held a place where he couldn’t survive right now. Where the air would leave his lungs with no way of replenishing itself. That he would choke on what he was faced with.

He watched how you slept, chest slowly rising and falling in the dim light of the fire. Still in a state of undress.

His eyes lingered on the bite on your neck. Two little puncture marks that had been reopened by his fangs so often they’d started to scar.

It made his stomach twist and turn, bile rising up his throat as he zeroed in on these tiny wounds. 

He felt filthy for having left them there, even though you’d assured him time and again that it was alright. Sometimes you even enjoyed it.

But he couldn’t think of anything but how much of a parasite he was. 

Leeching off of your goodwill and kindness, repaying you with his body because it was the only way he knew how. To lie on his back, purr some pretty phrases and slot into that old, familiar role of seductive pretty boy.

He had to give something back. He had to. Otherwise you’d likely come to demand payment regardless. Everyone always did. No kindness was just done for the sake of being kind.

His stomach turned again as guilt set in, draping over his shoulders like a heavy blanket. He knew he shouldn’t think these things of you but he couldn’t help it. 

Quietly, he rose from his spot next to you. A place he didn’t feel should belong to him. Hells, he had seen the way Gale looked at you when he thought no one else paid attention. He could give the gentle kind of love Astarion felt incapable of.

He could grant you warmth Astarion didn’t possess. He could cook for you, share a meal, not have to leech off your body to keep himself alive.

Astarion walked a distance further into the treeline and all at once, his body lurched and his last meal found itself on the forest floor. He gagged and retched, tears flowing down his cheeks from discomfort and humiliation. 

His pride felt wounded as he emptied his stomach, spitting after to try and clear the sour, copper taste from his mouth. He still stood bent over, vision blurred with tears as he fought a sob.

Suddenly he felt like a child again, desperately longing for his mother, who’s face he’d all but forgotten. He let himself cry, granting himself the luxury of it. His shoulders shook, his fangs sinking into his bottom lip as all the negative thoughts filled his head like a storm. 

Then suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder, a soft voice taking him out of his head. He jerked up as if burned. He whirled around, furious he’d been caught unaware, without his knife. What if it was-

But whatever imagined horror he conjured up was nothing compared to the horror that the person who crept up on him was you.

His heart hammered against his ribs and he could hear his blood rush in his ears, vision going blurry at the edges. His breaths came stunted and he was only vaguely aware that you were speaking. But still, he felt like he was watching things through water, only this time he was drowning.

Like an animal fueled by instinct, he stepped back. He didn’t want you to touch him. For him to taint you further. He was trying to find words to say but the panic was too great.

For a moment, he thought he was about to die. That somehow, inexplicably, this would be the end of him. To die in a forest, in his own sick because he was caught in a moment of weakness .

A perfectly humiliating end to the life of a parasite of no consequence. A man who’d been so corrupt it nearly cost him his life only to be reduced to nothing but a pretty face and a willing cock. All to lead people into their untimely death, like the monster he was. A pretty face with a rotten core.

He didn’t realize he was saying these things aloud, nor that he was crying until your hand gingerly wiped his tears away. He flinched and he saw the heartbreak on your face, another twist of the dagger that had lodged itself into his chest. 

“Breathe.”

The one word cut through the fog in his head and somehow he willed himself to obey your gently spoken command. The first breath in was stunted, like a small child after a crying fit. But breathing was easy enough to do, a simple thing to focus on for just a moment as he found the hurt, humiliation and pain he felt.

In, out. In. Hold. Out.

In. Hold. Out.

In. Out

He calmed down slowly, his vision sharpening, his heart slowing down.

And there you stood, eyes trained on him with a look of concern in your eyes. 

His first instinct was anger. He already had a cutting remark on his tongue but he swallowed it. 

You were worried about him. You were just trying to help. 

“Are you okay?”

Astarion found himself bristling again at the comment, righting his back and pointing his chin, as if he had any pride left to hold onto. As if you didn’t just see him in the middle of a panic attack because god forbid you saw him as weak.

“I’m fine.” He lied, hating how unsteady his voice sounded. 

You looked at him in a way that let on you were the farthest thing from fooled and he didn’t want to give up the game. To tear himself open, cry into your arms like a small part of him wanted to.

Eventually, you nodded.

“Can I touch you?’

The simple question knocked the wind out of him. A simple ask of consent disarmed him fully and he wanted to loathe himself for it again but couldn’t. He was so tired.

“Please.” Came his reply. Soft and pained as he finally stopped fighting himself. 

You had barely embraced him when a new torrent of tears came. He buried his face in the junction of where your neck met your shoulder. A place he was intimately familiar with, but right now it wasn’t about sating his hunger. He felt your hand gently stroke his back as you comforted him.

Years of habit made him wonder when you’d use this against him but he did his best to ignore the thought. Instead focusing on the here and now. On the smell of your skin, how soft and warm you felt against him, of the sound of your voice as you told him he was alright. That you were there.

And for a moment, Astarion allowed himself to feel it.

To feel safe.

He felt the urge to be sick again.

Despite himself, he breathed deep like he had earlier, his crying slowing to a soft sniveling. He untangled himself from your embrace, your eyes still on him. He couldn’t bare to meet your gaze, clearing his throat as he studied the forest floor beneath your feet.

“Is there anything you need?” You asked and the question seemed a little absurd to him. He quietly shook his head.

“If it’s all the same to you, darling, I would like to go back to bed. And not speak of this again.”

His tone was a little harsh but you seemed to not take offense. You merely gave him the ghost of a smile.

“Come. I have a waterskin so you can rinse your mouth.” you said, half turning to the campsite. 

Astarion nodded. He wanted to say thank you but the words rested heavy on his tongue only for them to die there. 

In silence, the pair made their way back to the fire. With that frustratingly soft look on your face, you handed him your waterskin.

Astarion rinsed his mouth, relieved to no longer taste blood for a moment. He handed it back to you before quietly settling in so you could sleep and he could close his eyes for a moment.

Then tomorrow you could both pack up your things and move on to the next place. Kill what needed killing and pretend to be heroes.

“Would it be alright if I held you?”

Astarion looked up, surprised because despite himself, he was already getting back into his own head. He deflected it, as he usually did.

“Cannot get enough of me, darling?” The words, even if they were meant in jest, rang a little hollow. You gave him a look and he simply nodded, almost reluctantly settling in your arms.

He focused on the sound of your heartbeat, the rhythm of it lulling him into something close to comfort. He heard your breaths slow, sleep dragging you back into the land of dreams.

Astarion’s own eyes grew heavy as he settled against you, And for a moment, despite the fact the gods had never listened, he found himself thanking them for making someone like you.

Because even if he still had a long road to go, you made him feel a little less like a monster, and a little more like Astarion Ancunin.

[oizysian]

XI. LET HER GO

Word count: 1.1k

All Eyes on Me masterlist

•

CELEB NEWS

Elizabeth Olsen was spotted, once again, on a 'date' with the mysterious Y/N. Olsen, 33, is married to Milo Greene band member Robbie Arnett, who was in Los Angeles at the time.

Olsen and Y/N were seen getting chummy at an ice cream parlor in New York City.

Not much is known about Y/N, as she seems to be very private despite being an Internet personality. She seems to get along well with the Marvel actress and her co-stars, as Y/N was also spotted hanging out with Brie Larson, better known as Captain Marvel.

•

"Shit."

I bit my lip as I read and re-read the article, again and again as if it would magically change before my eyes. Now, this was bad.

I sat in silence, staring at my phone clenched tightly in my hand. We really fucked up this time. I really fucked up this time.

Maybe if I just ignored it, it would go away, cease to exist, disappear.

My phone vibrated, a text message appearing at the top of my screen. Brie, obviously having seen the article, and god knows how many others, wanted to know what was going on. No wonder she was confused, I had been so adamant about keeping my relationship with Lizzie strictly platonic, that now that the lines were blurred, publically, I had a lot of explaining to do.

I scratched my head in frustration, hoping the sensation of my nails against my scalp would distract me from yet another mess I got myself into. Why did I have to go and screw everything up?

It's just a misunderstanding.

I finally replied to her, and it was true. It hadn't been a date and the flirting had just been innocent fun between friends. Now to explain this to everyone else.

What did it matter what the world thought anyway? Lizzie and I both knew what was going on. Rumors and gossip just came with the territory and it was something I had to get used to.

My phone went dim with inactivity and I sighed. I should be talking to Lizzie about this. She was the married one - she was the one who had the most to lose. Her marriage, her reputation was all at stake here.

The ringing of my phone caused me to nearly jump straight out of my skin. I took a deep breath and checked who it was before answering.

Lizzie.

Shit, shit, shit, okay, I could do this.

I cleared my throat and picked up, waiting a beat before finally speaking.

"Hello?"

"Y/N," she was crying. "We need to talk."

"Lizzie," I was panicking now. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Robbie and I had a fight."

I swallowed roughly, my stomach turning at her words. I could feel the bile of sick rising up my throat as I processed her words.

It was all my fault.

"Lizzie, I-I'm sorry." I was silent as she cried on the line. "I'm sorry."

"I told him we're just friends, but he doesn't believe me."

Of course he doesn't. He would have to be an idiot to ignore the signs of an affair, even an emotional one. But, we weren't having an affair of any kind. We were just very friendly with each other.

"I don't know what to do." I felt helpless.

"Just ... just talk to me."

"Okay." I breathed in. "I can do that. I can talk."

She let out a small, broken chuckle and I couldn't help my heart fluttering at the sound. Even at a time like this, I could still make her laugh - even if unintentionally.

"Where are you?"

"I'm home. I got home yesterday." She sniffled. "I just can't believe he won't listen to me."

"Give it time. You didn't do anything wrong." Right?

"But, it looked wrong. And now my husband doesn't trust me."

The sick that built up in my throat nearly shot out at the severity of her words. I was ruining her marriage by playing games with her. I couldn't do this. I couldn't hurt her like this.

"Lizzie ..." I could feel the tears burning the corners of my eyes, like pinpricks. "I need to go."

"What?" She sounded so small, so hurt.

"I don't think you want to ruin your marriage over someone like me."

"W-what? Y/N, no don't do this, please -!"

"Goodbye, Elizabeth. It's better this way. I promise you'll be happier."

"No, no, Y/N!"

I hung up. I couldn't bare to hear her like that, knowing it was all my fault and that I caused such trouble between her and Robbie. We were just friends. We were.

I brought up my text messages, tapping quickly on Brie's name and typing.

I'm an idiot. I was foolish to think I could be someone special to her. I was foolish to put myself in this position. I ended it. She needs her husband more than she needs me.

It sounded as if we were having an affair. God, it did look bad. I needed time to myself. I needed to get high. I had to forget everything and make all the pain and suffering go away, just for a little while.

What have you done?

I ignored the incoming call from Lizzie, letting it ring until it went to voicemail. I could do this all day if I had to.

I let her go.

My phone rang again, this time it was Brie.

"Hel-"

"What happened?" She cut me off, getting straight to the point.

"We were seen in an ice cream shop -"

"Yeah, I know that part."

I ignored her.

"- and now Robbie thinks she's having an affair."

"Isn't she?"

"No! She-she's not! She didn't do anything wrong."

"But you did?"

"Yes." My voice was small and broken.

"What did you do that she didn't?"

"I ..." What did I do? I wasn't even sure anymore. "I made her -"

"You made her what? See that you're a great, fun person to be around? That maybe you're someone she could trust?"

"It's all 'maybes', Brie!" I was tired. So tired. "Maybe I was just a fun little distraction - who knows!"

"Y/N, you're upset. I get that. But, pushing her away isn't the answer."

"Then what is?! What could be the solution to this fucked up mess?”

"Talking things out."

"I don't want to talk. I want it to go away."

"You're an idiot if you leave it like this." She warned, and I knew she was right. But, Elizabeth's happiness meant more to me than my own.

"Then I'm an idiot."

•

@oh-thats-cute @marvelwomen-simp @dorabledewdroop @scarlie-johalsen-blog @annie-ahmelia

[emmyrosee]

So Urm just a thought u got any…. Deep non curse sukuna angst I think it’s a good day to cry.

-anon🥢

Sukuna is nothing if not self sabotaging.

Things with you have been good. Borderline perfect; you’re the missing piece to the life he’s cursed to live, where he’s always self aware of his weaknesses and takes them out on those around him. There is no blessing, not when all he does it hurt. It’s a miracle yuuji and choso deal with his shit enough, he knows they should’ve dropped him off the face of the earth with the pain he causes.

Now, it seems, it’s your turn.

Your turn to be on the receiving end of his fury, his rage and heartbreak, your only chance to escape being to leave him; maybe that’s all he wants: you to leave him.

He stopped calling you. Stopped answering texts. When his brothers and parents ask about you, he merely stays silent, opting against making you sound more divine than they know you are.

You’re perfect. You’re not for him.

Theres a pounding on the door that goes unanswered by everyone in the house, and he groans as he gets up to answer it, only to reveal your frame in the door.

You look distraught. You’re angry, he can see that in your eyes, there’s a betrayal buried deep in them. Your face holds a scowl and your breathing picks up at the sight of him.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Sukuna rolls his eyes and walks away from the open door, knowing you’ll follow him no matter what. “So?”

“So?” You ask, offended. “You and I are supposed to be in love, supposed to be partners in crime-“

“Im hearing a lot of ‘supposed to be,’ and not a lot of ‘have to be’” he snaps. He hears you take a breath to say something, but you don’t. He screws his eyes shut. “Get over it. I didn’t sign a contract with my blood saying I have to come to your every beck and call.”

“Sukuna. Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Being an asshole,” you say firmly. “Let me in. I’m here. What’s going on?”

“I’m sick of you.”

At his blunt words, you gasp, and sukuna feels the bile rise up his throat. He’ll do anything though. Anything to make you stop loving him. “What…?”

“I’m sick. Of you,” he echos. “You checking up on me, demanding we go out, flaunting me off to your friends like I’m some damn trophy-“

“Because I love you!” You hiss. “I want to show you off, make the world see how lucky I am to have you!”

“‘Show me off?’” He cackles, spinning on his heel to face you. “There’s nothing to show. I am nothing to you. You, are nothing to me.”

You reel back at his words, waterline swelling with tears as you are wounded by his words. “You think because I take you out on a few dates, we kissed a little and I held that little hand of yours, that you’re anything special to me?” He shakes his head with a cruel chuckle, “I’ve done that to every broad I’ve ever been with. You’re not special. Never were anything more than a body to me.”

You puff out your chest like an animal trying to protect itself, “then what about the nights we cuddled?” You demand. “What about our late night trips to McDonald’s or 7/11? What about the nights you cried in my chest about your miseries and hardships, and I carded your hair and cradled you close to my body?”

“What about them!” He yells, the cracks in his confidents breaking. Those moments mean the world to him, and for him to now force you to use them against him has his blood running cold. “Yeah, I let you see the softer bits of me. Who cares?”

“I do!” You wail. “Because it made me think, for one second, that we could be something special! Something we earned and worked for together!”

“I think you forget,” he snarls, “I lived a fine life without you in it. We can go right fucking back the minute you started thinking this bullshit.”

You flinch at the harshness of his words. It’s working. Sukuna feels it. The love you have for him dwindling, the connection being frayed and severed with every pass of his words-

“Then do it,” you whisper. “If your life was so great loveless, then go back. But just know, I’ll never stop loving you. Ever. You’ll never have the peace of the freedom of heartbreak when it comes to me.”

With that, you take a step back, followed by another, but your eyes never leave his. Your bottom lip wobbles and you grab your coat over the back of his chair. He watches as you cover your mouth with your hand before dashing out, slamming the door behind you and leaving a trail of tears. His eyes are fixed on the door that’s finally stopped shaking on its hinges from the slam, as if waiting for you to sweep back in and demand his love, demand him to care and want you back.

But it doesn’t come. You don’t come back.

He can’t fight the urge to swipe everything off the counter with his arms in a fury, plates and cups flying off and shattering under the force. He pants like a voracious beast, angry and predatory, but he’s grounded as he steps on a shard of crystal from his mom’s wine glass.

And now, rather than chase you down the street, begging for your forgiveness, he sits down, using his hands to pick up the bigger shards. There’s an unfamiliar trickling down his cheek of hot tears, one splatters to the floor, and that’s it. Sukuna, with the monster he worked so hard to keep at bay, ruins another paradise in his life.

He cries alone.

All alone.