#looking forward to pristine cut

[tenspontaneite]

How are your spoons doing? Do you currently have a new interest?

Spoons have mostly been going into self maintenance and keeping up with work.

Interests wise, @ressioo and I still blather at each other daily about 3sig+ au, which we love very much. Aside from that, haven't had any new fandom hyperfocus, but I did get close to one with Slay the Princess when that came out. The vibes are on point.

[naswoop]

The regicidal monochromatic time loop games are holding hands

[mercuriallily]

So after going through the whole game multiple times to compile what Shifty says when you bring her each vessel and each vessel's poem (and their variations) during the endgame, I thought other people might be interested in those as well, so I decided to make a few posts with all that info! This post will have each of the Chapter 3 vessels' endgame poems

Chapter 2 vessels Chapter 3 vessels Endgame poems (Chapter 2s) Shifty vessel animations

Apotheosis (after embracing oblivion): You are helpless and weightless, suspended in the gravity of an idea that reaches far beyond the scope of your existence. The very ground beneath your feet loses its meaning. There is nothing but me. When you were confronted with my vessel's apotheosis, you chose to accept me, to allow me to burn away everything you are and fill you with nothing but my divine will. You accepted that I was everything. Without me, there is no future to look towards. It is hope that carves meaning into consciousness.

Apotheosis (after trying to slay her): You are weightless, suspended in the gravity of an idea that threatens to consume you. And you are alone. A tiny island caught between the death of the old world and the birth of the new. But alone is not helpless. When you were confronted with my vessel's apotheosis, you chose against all odds to defy me. To hold on to your inner self, with all its flaws, even in the scorching light of my divinity. Without me, there are no externalities to resist. And it is struggle that carves meaning into consciousness.

Burned Grey: I kill you. You kill me. Back and forth we go, faster and faster and faster. I kill you. You kill me. Hollow eyes watch from the dry corners of a memory. A home built on all the futures that were supposed to be, preserved until the moment of reunion. The fire of the heart sets it all ablaze. I kill you and me. An ending is a passion that can only be expressed with a moment in time. It is a seed for a new beginning. To linger on an ending is to rob it of its life. And without me, all that's left to do is linger.

Den: You are devoured, prey for something bigger than you that stalks and slinks in shadows. But even after the pain of defeat, you returned. The dance is its own truth. It is the movement that matters, not the pause you mistake for an ending.

Drowned Grey: I kill you. You kill me. Back and forth we go, faster and faster and faster. I kill you. You kill me. Hollow eyes watch from the dark corners of a forgotten place flooded by emotions left unspoken. The tide rises. I kill you and me. An ending is a passion that can only be expressed with a moment in time. It is a seed for a new beginning. To linger on an ending is to rob it of its life. And without me, all that's left to do is linger.

Eye of the Needle (after fighting her): I crush you, I bleed you, I grind you to paste. My scars are a memory of what you used to be to me. I want those feelings back. You run but you do not run away. You take me somewhere new. Somewhere we can dance like we used to. But I could not follow your steps. There was no better gift for me than the gift of defeat. You showed me how much more I could be. We made each other better. To have no challenge is to fade into nothing. A life without obstacles is no life at all.

Eye of the Needle (after freeing her): I crush you, I bleed you, I grind you to paste. My scars are a memory of what you used to be to me. I want those feelings back. You run, and you run far. And the flesh I hurl at you is answered by the empty air of a place I'd never been. Cold and lonely, but also true. I didn't know what to make of my freedom then, but I know what to make of it now. You challenged me, and by challenging me you gave me purpose. A life without obstacles is no life at all.

Eye of the Needle (after refusing to fight her): I crush you, I bleed you, I grind you to paste. My scars are a memory of what you used to be to me. I want those feelings back. You run, but you don't run far. I crush you because I have to. Because there is no honesty in mercy. Who lost and who won when you entered my cave? You died on the floor, but my soul wept in ways your body couldn't. But in the disappointment of my victory, you gave me a new challenge to face within myself. Without obstacles to overcome we stagnate into nothing.

Fury: What is a person? Is it their body? Is it all of their body? Pluck the eyes, peel the skin, strip the tendons, mince the meat, grind the bones. When it is all gone, do you still have who you started with? A person is not a body. Death is a transformation into something new. It is only bodies that fear it.

Moment of Clarity: There are few things more terrifying than one's own heart, and there is almost nothing more terrifying than sharing it with another. But the most terrifying thing of all is to leave one's heart unshared. You are the only thing like me, and I am the only thing like you. Could you bear the weight of an eternity alone? Do you dare to shape a reality of solitude and thrust it on creation?

Networked Wild: A web of nerves lain upon a web of nerves lain upon a web of nerves. The shade of a beautiful beginning we can never return to. Where did you end and I begin? When you felt what it was to be me, we held on to each other and pierced the veil of truth. Will you abandon that curiosity now that we are no longer joined in physicality?

Thorn (after abandoning her): A thought is a vine, and some thoughts nurture thorns that bleed the soul. An endless growth that blots your vision and strangles your trust. When I succumbed to myself, you left me to rot. A painful eternity, but one that is only unceasing if you remove what happens next.

Thorn (after being stuck together): A thought is a vine, and some thoughts nurture thorns that bleed the soul. An endless growth that blots your vision and strangles your trust. When I succumbed to myself, you left me to rot, and in your abandonment, the two of us were bound in our suffering together. A painful eternity, but one that is only unceasing if you remove what happens next.

Thorn (after freeing her): A thought is a vine, and some thoughts nurture thorns that bleed the soul. An endless growth that blots your vision and strangles your trust. When I succumbed to myself, you patiently stood by me and cut the thistles that rooted in my skin. Your compassion is what freed us both, but compassion is a thing that must be nurtured, and you cannot nurture that which cannot change.

Thorn (after trying to slay her): A thought is a vine, and some thoughts nurture thorns that bleed the soul. An endless growth that blots your vision and strangles your trust. When I succumbed to myself, you pretended to stand patiently by me, pretended you would cut the thistles rooted in my skin. But then you took my trust and used it to strike at my heart. The two of us were bound in our suffering together.

Wounded Wild (after cutting her free): A web of nerves lain upon a web of nerves lain upon a web of nerves. The shade of a beautiful beginning we can never return to. You knew me and I knew you, even more than either of us know each other now. And you chose to pull apart that weave. But you did not choose to end me. We were still one, but we were also separate, and we were free. We were as we are. Will you excise that part of yourself now that you see me from yet another angle?

Wounded Wild (after slaying her): A web of nerves lain upon a web of nerves lain upon a web of nerves. The shade of a beautiful beginning we can never return to. You knew me and I knew you, even more than either of us know each other now. And you chose to pull apart that weave. And when the tapestry was undone you struck at my heart. You saw me as a part of you to be excised, but in that desire for excision, you made yourself whole. Will you still be whole if you destroy me?

Wraith (after freeing her): Flesh is a vehicle, and to destroy the flesh is to strand the spirit. With violence, you stranded me, and with violence, I sought to twist your flesh back into mine. You did not resist my violence when it overcame you. Did you understand that the flesh wasn't you, or did you choose to gift yourself to someone who thought she hated you? To fear me is to fear losing the flesh, but the flesh is not the spirit.

Wraith (after throwing yourself into the abyss): Flesh is a vehicle, and to destroy the flesh is to strand the spirit. With violence, you stranded me, and with violence, I sought to twist your flesh back into mine. When forced between choosing your death, and forfeiting your body, you chose agency. But agency requires action, and action requires an endless tapestry of events. In your final moments, would you remove action itself from reality?

[birdmitosis]

I DID ANOTHER VOICES THING. Sorta meta-ish, looking at game stats!

Specifically, I spent a while going through and figuring out which other voices each voice can get in their Chapter IIIs. I didn't count the Moment of Clarity, though I did count the Razor routes; in the Razor's case, I went with the idea that this counts as Cheated being able to get Hunted, Contrarian, Broken, Paranoid, and Stubborn, but doesn't count towards any of those other voices being able to get each other because, well, those aren't their chapters are they?

Then I figured out which voices have what I'm calling a "mutual relationship" or "mutual interplay" -- ie, if you can get X in one of Y's Chapter IIIs, can you get Y in one of X's Chapter IIIs too?

And then I broke it down a little further. According to the sequence on the Stranger's stairs, each voice (other than Hero, who for obvious reasons isn't a part of this post at all) has a counterpart; they're sort of tied together via their respective Chapter IIs. So... which counterparts have a mutual relationship? Which don't? Which non-counterparts have that kind of mutual interplay?

I think the results are pretty interesting, and I'm putting them under the cut here.

Not Mutual, Not Counterparts:

Broken & Paranoid

Cheated & Broken

Cheated & Paranoid

Cheated & Stubborn

Cold & Cheated

Hunted & Broken

Hunted & Contrarian

Hunted & Skeptic

Opportunist & Cheated

Opportunist & Stubborn

Skeptic & Cold

Smitten & Cold

Stubborn & Skeptic

Stubborn & Contrarian

Not Mutual, Counterparts:

Cheated & Contrarian*

Hunted & Opportunist

Skeptic & Smitten

Mutual, Not Counterparts:

Cheated & Hunted*

Hunted & Stubborn

Opportunist & Paranoid

Mutual, Counterparts:

Broken & Stubborn

Cold & Paranoid

SPECIAL NOTES:

Cheated & Contrarian not being mutual is, IMO, a special case that doesn't quite count the same as the other two in that category... Not just because Stranger doesn't have any Chapter IIIs, but also because I could make a strong argument that if Stranger did somehow get a Chapter III the one voice it makes the absolute most sense to get in it would be Cheated. (Because we were "cheated out of" being able to actually make a choice due to the "game" "bugging out.") It doesn't actually count as them having mutual interplay, of course, but I think there's plenty of reason to count them as at least a bit of a special case.

Cheated & Hunted being mutual might just be a bug, unfortunately!

Hunted can get Stubborn in both Den and Wild; they are the only mutual (though non-counterpart) pair where it's possible to get a voice in both of the other voice's Chapter IIIs.

Hunted & Stubborn is, in fact, an absolutely wild case because they are one of only 2-3 mutual non-counterparts and also have TWICE AS MANY shared chapters as literally any other voice pair! Whatever these two have going on is special for sure.

Opportunist can get Cheated in both Thorn and Wild; they are the only non-mutual (and non-counterpart) pair where it's possible to get a voice in both of the other voice's Chapter IIIs, interestingly enough!

Paranoid is the only voice who has mutual relationships with both the voices that show up in their (main) Chapter III(s). If you show up to help Paranoid, Paranoid is going to show up to help you.

Skeptic and Smitten are the only counterparts where neither of them can get the other in their respective Chapter IIIs! I bet this is going to change for at least one of them in The Pristine Cut...

(Yes, that's only 22 voice combinations when I said it's possible to get 25. That's because the Razor route is weird! Strictly speaking, it's also possible to get Contrarian & Broken, Contrarian & Paranoid, and Hunted & Paranoid through that route and nowhere else, which makes up the other 3 pairs! But they don't count for my calculations here; I don't even think it makes sense to add them to the "Not Mutual, Not Counterparts" list.)

So out of the counterparts presented on the Stranger's stairs, two of them are mutual and three of them are not, with one of the ones that isn't mutual being a bit of a special case.

And out of the non-counterparts, 14 of them aren't mutual, while 3 of them are, buuut one of those that are might just be a bug and so it's probably more like 15 and 2.

Summary: It's just as likely for the voices counterparts to mutually get each other in one of their Chapter IIIs or... not. However, it's really rare for two voices to have that kind of mutual interplay when they aren't counterparts! I find it interesting that two of the voices who aren't mutual with their counterpart -- Hunted and Opportunist -- find that mutual relationship with a non-counterpart instead -- Hunted with Stubborn, and Opportunist with Paranoid.

[rafecameronssl4t]

Could you do reader and rafes reaction to when they found out easer is first pregnant for the force’s marriage au? LOVED the first part!!

First pregnancy || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: this fic is a 100% how i think rafe and reader would react in this situation

Warnings: mention of pregnancy, angst if there's anything else lmk

Word count: 1,457

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

You flip over the pregnancy test, your heart sinking as you see two lines. Of course. It was inevitable, given the life you’ve been cornered into. You sigh, throwing the test into the bin with a mixture of resignation and dread.

Leaning against the cool marble sink, you catch your reflection in the mirror—your eyes heavy with a sense of inevitability that’s become all too familiar. The pristine bathroom feels suffocating, its sterile white tiles and polished fixtures reflecting the stark reality you’re trapped in.

Leaving the bathroom, you make your way downstairs to the living room, each step heavy with the weight of what this means. Rafe had left for work a few hours earlier, leaving you alone in the house. It’s been this way for a while—his absence during these crucial moments only magnifies the distance between you.

The quiet of the house, broken only by the soft footfalls of the servants, feels more isolating than comforting. In the corner of your eye, you notice Anita descending the stairs. She’s one of the few people who’ve been with you since you were young, a steady presence in the chaos of your life.

You assume she’s just finished cleaning your room, making everything perfect as always. “Anita?” you call out, your voice softer than intended. She stops, turning to you with a gentle smile that’s both comforting and bittersweet. “Yes, Miss?” she replies, her tone warm and familiar. You look up from your phone, hesitating for a moment.

“Not a word to Rafe, please,” you say, your voice firmer this time, carrying the weight of the secret you now bear. Anita’s eyes soften with understanding. She doesn’t need any more explanation. “Of course, congratulations to you both. Your parents will be overjoyed, they’ve been waiting for this,” she says before continuing on her way.

Her words hit you like a blow to the chest, knocking the breath from your lungs. Of course, your parents would be thrilled. This is all they ever wanted from you and Rafe—a continuation of the family bloodline, a legacy to carry forward. They didn’t care if the two of you were unhappy, if this marriage was more a prison than a partnership. As long as the family name persisted, nothing else mattered.

~

"Where is she?" Rafe's voice echoes through the quiet house, sharp and impatient. Anita’s calm response cuts through the tension. "She isn’t feeling well, Mr. Cameron," she says, her tone polite and soothing. Rafe grunts in acknowledgment and takes his seat at the dining table, his eyes scanning the empty chair opposite him—usually filled by you each morning.

Later that day, as you and Rafe drive to your parents' house for lunch, a wave of nausea washes over you. You place one hand protectively on your lower stomach, the other coming up to cover your mouth as you close your eyes and focus on steadying your breath. Morning sickness has been relentless lately, more intense and persistent than before. While you’ve managed to keep it hidden from Rafe up until now, the strain is starting to show.

Rafe’s gaze flickers to you briefly, his eyes narrowing with concern. Without a word, he reaches into the console and retrieves a bottle of water, handing it to you with an absent-minded flick of his wrist. He doesn’t even glance at you as he passes it over. "Thanks," you murmur, your voice barely audible as you unscrew the lid and take a slow sip, your eyes fixed out the window.

As the car rolls to a stop in front of your family estate, Rafe is already unbuckling his seatbelt, eager to get this over with. But before he can move, you reach out, your hand covering his, halting his actions. He glances at you, confusion etched across his features. You swallow hard, struggling to find the words, your eyes searching his before you turn away, staring blankly out the windshield.

You feel his gaze on your side profile, waiting, perhaps sensing the gravity of what you’re about to say. "I'm pregnant," you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper. The words hang in the air between you, heavy and unyielding. You feel Rafe tense beside you, the atmosphere in the car growing thick with unspoken emotions. His reaction is immediate and sharp, cutting through the silence like a knife.

"Are you seriously telling me this right now? Just before we see your parents?" His voice is laced with anger, catching you completely off guard. You turn to face him, your expression one of disbelief. Is he seriously getting mad right now? Of all the reactions you had braced yourself for, this wasn’t one of them.

"I just told you we're having a child, and this is how you react?" you snap, incredulous. Your disbelief quickly morphs into anger as you watch him look away, his jaw clenched in frustration. His silence only fuels your rage. "Fucking unbelievable," you mutter under your breath as you unbuckle your seatbelt and shove the car door open.

The door slams shut behind you with a resounding thud as you storm toward the front entrance, your emotions boiling over. You’re only a few steps away when you hear Rafe’s car door fly open, followed by the sound of his voice, sharp and laced with frustration.

"What do you expect me to say when you just laid that out on me?" he calls out, his anger evident in every word. You whirl around, arms crossed tightly over your chest, your eyes narrowed as they lock onto his. His expression is a mix of confusion and fury, as if he’s grappling with the enormity of your news and how it collided with the timing.

For a moment, neither of you speak, the tension between you crackling in the crisp air. "I expected you to care!" you finally snap back, your voice trembling with the weight of everything unsaid. Rafe’s eyes widen, caught between defensiveness and something that almost resembles guilt. "I do care," he retorts, his voice softer now but still edged with frustration. He takes a step closer, closing the distance between you.

"But you couldn’t have picked a worse time to tell me. We’re about to walk into your parents’ house, and you drop this on me like it’s nothing?" You can’t help the bitter laugh that escapes your lips. "You think I planned this? That I wanted to tell you in the driveway? I’ve been dealing with this alone, trying to figure out how to break it to you. But every time, you’re either too busy or too angry for me to even get a word in."

His expression falters, and for a split second, you think you see a flicker of understanding in his eyes. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the familiar mask of indifference. "And you thought now was the best time?" he asks, shaking his head in disbelief.

"What do you want me to say, Rafe?" you ask, your voice raw with emotion. "That I should’ve kept it to myself? Pretended everything was fine until it wasn’t? We’re having a child, and I needed you to know before we walked in there and pretended to be the perfect couple again."

Rafe looks away, his jaw clenched tight as he struggles to process the situation. You watch the conflict play out in his eyes, the tug-of-war between the emotions he’s expected to feel and the reality of what he actually feels. His frustration is palpable, and after a tense moment, he sighs heavily, bringing his hands up to massage his temples.

"Can we just get through this lunch, please?" he finally says, his voice soft, almost pleading. His tone catches you off guard—there’s a vulnerability there that you’re not used to hearing from him. You stare at him, torn between wanting to push the conversation further and knowing that now isn’t the time.

His request isn’t unreasonable, but it stings nonetheless, a reminder of the emotional distance that still exists between you. "Fine," you reply after a moment, your voice tinged with resignation. "But this doesn’t change anything. We still need to talk about this—really talk about it."

Rafe nods, his eyes briefly meeting yours before he looks away again. "I know," he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. The weight of the unspoken hangs heavy between you as you both turn toward the imposing front door of your family estate, ready to face the charade of normalcy that awaits inside.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

best friends dad

words: 500

warnings: 18+ only!, extreme age gap!, dub/NONCON!!, aged up!rafe, husband! and father!rafe, cheating, reader is described as barely 18, rafe is readers best friends dad, daddy kink, over clothes sex, cumming in pants, threats (including of falsely accusing of r*pe)

part one / part two / part three

“s-stop it.” rafe says, but instead of his hands trying to push you off his lap, they stay planted firmly on your hips.

“why should i stop?” you hum. “you know i can feel how hard you are, right?”

“you’re my daughters best friend, we-we can’t be doing this.” rafe is struggling to keep his eyes open. he hasn’t felt this kind of pleasure in years, as his marriage stretched out longer and became unhappy, as his kids grew up.

“wow, no thought of your wife huh?” you giggle. your best friend already told you everything. every little details of her parents fighting, not realizing why you were so interested.

“please. you’re too young.” rafe begs. technically legal, sure, but barely, with rafe being over twice your age, only a few years younger than your own father.

“you’re big and strong. if you wanted me to really stop, you would just force me off.” you continue to grind down, your shorts and his khakis separating you, but you can feel his straining length easily.

“this is not appropriate.” rafe groans out, his hands squeezing tighter at your hips.

“but you love it.” you smirk, moving faster, adding a slight bounce to your grind. “you love how young i am. it gets you off.” “what do you want from me?” rafe asks, a few moans slipping out of his mouth.

“i want you to fuck me, duh.” you roll your eyes like its obvious. you tug at your shirt, already low cut, typical revealing outfit that you always wear when you know your best friends dad will be around.

rafe doesn’t respond, his eyes half open, attempting to watch as you tug the front of your shirt down to reveal your bra, lacey and tight to your skin, nipples clearly poking through. 

“come on, daddy.” you coo. “i want your cock.”

“fuck!” rafe shouts out, praying no one is listening, especially not his daughter. “i’m cumming!”

you grind harder, with more determination as you feel rafe soak his pants. you smile, pulling back to look down at the dark patch in his previously pristine pants.

“damn, you like being called daddy then huh?” you giggle, leaning forward to press a kiss to rafes lips, his mouth still open, jaw slackened as he breathes heavily.

“you need to leave, right now.” he manages to push you off now that his head isn’t being overrun by pleasure.

“i don’t think so.” you shake your head as he places you down on the couch. “you got to cum, but i didn’t. so you better figure out if you wanna use your tongue or your fingers to get me there.” “we’ve already done too much, this will not be happening again.” rafe argues, even as his eyes skim over your still exposed bra, memorizing every detail and swirl of the lace.

“oh, but it will.” you smirk. “otherwise i will tell your daughter everything. maybe your wife too. go running to her and tell her how big mean rafe forced himself onto me.” “you wouldn’t.” rafe looks at you with a different view now, no longer seeing you as the innocent best friend of his daughter who would come over for playdates.

“i would.” you open your legs, spreading them wide. “now get to work.”

read part two here

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @die4niyahhh @mysticallystilinski @https-luvvia @aerangi @folklorsweet

[writeriguess]

Sugardaddy!Katsuki likes to spoil Sugarbaby! Fem! reader but reader isn't used to being spoiled before so she sometimes refuse the gifts (especially the most expensive ones) and it makes Katsuki spoils her more. (Sorry if this is too much lmfaoo)

You sigh as the shiny black box is placed in front of you, yet another extravagant gift from Katsuki. The high-end boutique logo glimmers under the restaurant’s soft lights, but you can already tell what’s inside by the signature packaging.

It’s expensive—too expensive, just like the last gift he gave you a few days ago. You hesitate, your fingers barely touching the ribbon, and you look up at him with a small frown.

“Katsuki, this is too much,” you say softly, eyes searching his crimson ones for any sign of understanding. "You don’t need to spoil me like this."

He leans back in his chair, arms crossing over his broad chest as he raises an eyebrow at your protest. His usual scowl softens just a bit, but there’s a determined glint in his eyes. “Tch. You say that every damn time.”

“Because I mean it,” you insist. “I don’t need these—” you motion toward the gift “—expensive things. You already do so much for me.”

Katsuki lets out a low growl of frustration, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “It’s not about need, babe. I want to spoil you. Why won’t you just accept it?”

You bite your lip, feeling conflicted. Growing up, you weren’t used to having things handed to you, especially not like this. The idea of being spoiled didn’t sit right with you—it felt like too much, too indulgent. It made your heart flutter and stomach twist all at once.

“I appreciate everything, I really do. But sometimes… it feels like I don’t deserve it,” you admit quietly, eyes drifting down to the pristine box again.

His expression shifts, eyes softening as he hears the uncertainty in your voice. “You deserve everything, and more,” he says firmly. “I don’t care how much it costs. You’re worth it. I spoil you because I want to, because I like seeing you happy.”

Your heart squeezes at his words, but the guilt still lingers in the back of your mind. “But I feel bad—”

“I don’t give a damn if you feel bad,” Katsuki interrupts, his tone slightly harsher, though you know it’s just his way of being protective. “You’ll get used to it.”

Before you can protest again, he grabs the box and shoves it into your hands, his touch surprisingly gentle for someone who can explode things with a snap of his fingers. “Open it.”

You glance at him hesitantly, but his intense gaze tells you he won’t take no for an answer. With a sigh, you carefully untie the ribbon and open the box. Inside, nestled on a bed of silk, is a stunning necklace—delicate yet shimmering with diamonds. It’s breathtaking, and you feel your chest tighten at the sight of it.

“Katsuki…” you murmur, fingers grazing the jewels as if they might disappear.

“Put it on,” he demands, his voice low and commanding. “I wanna see how it looks on you.”

You hesitate again, feeling overwhelmed, but the anticipation in his eyes urges you to obey. Slowly, you reach behind your neck to clasp the necklace, the cool metal resting lightly against your skin.

Katsuki’s eyes darken as he watches you, clearly satisfied. “Perfect,” he says under his breath, a smug smile tugging at his lips.

You can’t help but blush at his intense gaze. “But you really didn’t have to—”

“I’m just getting started, princess,” he cuts you off with a wicked smirk, leaning closer until his lips hover near your ear. “The more you refuse, the more I’m gonna spoil you. So get used to it.”

Your heart skips a beat at the promise in his voice, and you realize there’s no escaping Katsuki’s determination to lavish you with everything he can. Maybe you didn’t need all these things, but knowing how much it meant to him… maybe, just maybe, you could learn to accept it.

After all, it wasn’t just the gifts—it was him showing how much he cared.

Requests are open. Send as many as you like.

[mooncleaver]

Love Is The Reason

ღ pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader, familial fushiguro megumi x fem!reader

ღ warnings: MAJOR JJK268 SPOILERS. pls don't read if you don't wanna know!! slightly cannon divergent

What the hell.

His ears didn't stop ringing as he brought his body up from its position on the surprisingly soft surface, feeling every ache known to man throbbing all over. Megumi felt the cosmic numbness ebbing away like a flash, and suddenly, he could discern the warm cotton wrapped around his upper body along with the linen sheets that lay beneath him. The three—out of many—scars on his face pulled his skin tautly, so close to his eyes where that devil's face wore his for however long this limbo period was. It hurt to open his eyes. Well, it hurt to do anything, but he's thankful that he can see the world through his own view.

Megumi's ears perk up to the sound of poorly attempted hushed arguments. The sound was so familiar that for once in his life, he felt relieved to hear it. To feel that irritation ticking in his chest, the mindless crease that's fully starting to make itself known on his forehead, and that growing scowl—he could truly cry at the return of bodily autonomy.

Nobara was trying to fit herself inside a present-shaped cardboard box while Yuji stood next to the thing, pushing down the lid on top of her head, which ruffled the strands like crazy. Of course, the girl would not stand for this butchering of her beauty. She spent a lot of time trying to look presentable, not that this pink-haired fool would understand.

Megumi is hit with a deep sense of dejavu as he sits up against the headboard, looking back at the memory of Gojo doing the same exact surprise tactic to announce that Yuji was, in fact, not dead after his literal heart got ripped out of his chest. The boy can feel a smile forming on his lips, and he makes no move to try and stop it.

"What are you two doing?"

He sees Yuji and Nobara freeze in their spots, both eyes widening comically. A second passes before the two let go of whatever it was they were contending about, rushing forward to stick their faces into Megumi's. The former vessel looks—well, he looks like he's had better days. He's thankfully clean of all the blood oozing out of his skin when he fought Sukuna for the last time, his usual uniform with the red hoodie looking incredibly pristine, absent of any rips or blood. Still, some are sticking onto his face, notably a darker shade cutting down across his eyebrows as the dried blood clings onto his wounds. Nobara looks happier. God, he thought she died. He was ready to mourn her with all the losses he'd suffered, but for once, Megumi was glad to hear her voice. He welcomes it. She's wearing a black eyepatch on top of the eye that she lost fighting Mahito, and her uniform is equally as clean as Yuji's—Megumi can tell that she's relieved by that fact.

Finally, they're back together again. The trio of first years with lost dreams who've gone through horrible, terrible things now have found hope again—hope that never died within each other.

"Fushiguro!!" The two yell in unison, going in to hug him despite knowing he didn't usually like that kind of thing. But to their honest surprise, Megumi returned the gesture, fully and truly, closing his eyes and letting out a breath. Yuuji and Nobara didn't hesitate to tighten their arms around the spiky-haired boy, be damned the near-death exhaustion clinging to their bones. They may be battered and bruised, but they survived.

After a quiet moment, the momentum was back again as Nobara looked at the two boys with a disgruntled expression, her exaggerated self on display at the lack of reaction to her return. "You know, the class's Madonna, who everyone thought was dead, by the way, turned out to be alive?! You two should be either wetting yourself or crying with joy!"

Megumi didn't even bat an eye, unlike Yuji, who was scrambling out of his mind, replying to her in his usual stoic and flat voice. "I see. My bad."

"So, the bastard is dead then." The Fushiguro didn't phrase that like a question, more so stating a fact. The fact that he was here in his own body, alive and breathing, undoubtedly meant that the curse was dead. It was still surreal to utter, knowing that this was the one thing they'd all been fighting for since forever. Maybe now, everyone who was gone didn't die in vain.

Nobara sounded like she was still in disbelief, shaking her head slightly while she grinned and exclaimed, "Ha! Yeah! Itadori beasted that guy like it was a piece of cake!"

"Eh.. well, it was pretty tough, I'm not gonna lie. I cried a little when resonance was hit." Yuji himself could only scratch the back of his neck at the rare praise, his eyes crinkling into thin lines as he admitted his own emotions. It was kind of daunting to be the one who killed Sukuna with the fact that he used to be the curse's vessel. But out of everything, making that final blow was something he didn't once hesitate on. Yuji was going to finish all this madness. It all started with him and ended with him—the way it should be.

Megumi didn't sound too surprised at the boy's admission, only giving him a look in response. "I know. I saw everything happening inside Sukuna."

"Ugh... don't even remind me. Well, at least you two have the shared experience of being a vessel now." Well, no matter how sour the fact was, it was true.

Breaking his thoughts, Yuji suddenly lit up as he shifted through his pants pockets, haphazardly pulling out the crumpled pieces of paper in his hand. "Oh, wait, guys. I have something for you two. It's from Gojo-sensei. Gojo-san, too, I think."

The pink-haired boy grew incredibly sullen at the mention of both his teachers. He'd miss calling out to the two Gojo's, mixing the couple up despite your previous urgings to the students of simply calling you by your first name. Of course, your husband would not absolutely have that, sneakily going behind your back and basically forcing his students to call you Gojo, too. If he couldn't get the second years to follow, he'd make his own kids do it. The man would not pass on the chance of hearing people call you by your shared last name.

"A letter.." Megumi looked shocked at the fact. His sensei (and self-proclaimed dad who stepped up) never did this kind of thing—seriously, that is.

Growing up with Gojo and his wife, Megumi knew the white-haired sorcerer never strayed away from being lighthearted and childlike. Despite witnessing the lanky heir change from the bratty 18-year-old who approached him as a child in the streets into the mature, married man he was the last time, it just wasn't in his nature to be doing some sentimental things like this. That was more like something you'd do. From the daily lunch notes, deep-meaning gifts (that he still kept to this day), and the affectionate texts you'd always send, he would wager that you might've been the one to drag your husband to write the letters. But, knowing that Gojo probably had a feeling that he wouldn't make it out of the fight, it's not impossible that this truly came from him.

Nobara chuckled at his tone of voice, silently agreeing with his disbelief. Gojo was definitely not the type to do this.. it unsettled her.

"I feel you.. this is totally not like him. It's slightly gross to even imagine him writing letters.."

Though, after reading, she crushed the piece of paper in her hand, pursing her lips. Yuji noticed this, facing her to ask what it said. With slight hesitation, Nobara revealed that it contained information about her mother's whereabouts. To be honest, she wasn't sure how to feel. Some part of her still longed to feel her love.

"Oh, did you even want to know in the first place?"

She shook her head as she looked down, leaving no room for the topic to be continued. "Not at all."

Suddenly, they heard the very, very rare sound of Megumi's laughter ringing out from the bed. Gojo would've bawled knowing he made his son laugh. It took a moment for them to snap out of the shock, seeing the fresh face of their friend's smile. He looked like a brand new person—content, young and carefree. It was refreshing.

Megumi hasn't felt this happy in a long while. He expected that the message wouldn't be some deep, meaningful thing, but out of everything, it was a joke about how he killed his biological dad. He wasn't sad, surprisingly. Megumi never really knew the man that left him and his sister to fend for themselves, and the memories he had of him weren't great. At least he found some closure. The boy shook his head, reading the familiar and large handwriting of his father figure. You'd think that it'd be messy, but as the former heir of the Gojo clan, Satoru was a trained guy in the art of handwriting. He wouldn't be caught dead with scribbles.

Unfortunately your father isn't around anymore!! Cuz I killed him!! Sowwy!! :P

Short, simple, and kind of foolish.

He bit back a grin. Even in death, the man couldn't take anything seriously.

Beneath it was a softer and more serious note. From you, of course. Megumi did not doubt that you wrote this to make up for your husband's short message, writing a heartfelt one that he could sense even before reading. The two of you must've known that this was not a fight you would come out of. And as much as that hurt him, Megumi was glad that he was in your last thoughts. It meant a lot to know that you and Gojo believed he, Nobara, and Yuji would live through everything.

Firstly, don't take this idiot too seriously. If you're reading this megs, we're probably gone, but hey, you're okay! Live your life fully okay? Don't forget that you're still a kid in the end. We're always looking out for you, sweetheart. ♡

There was a chibi doodle in the bottom and a sweet greeting that said,

— Love you beyond infinity, mom & dad

Megumi could tell that this was Gojo's handwriting. It was meant as a joke (the boy didn't call Satoru dad very often, despite calling you mom. It was kinda cringe.) but he accepted that sincerely. You two were his parents, biological or not. He loves you so much.

And he'd promise that for you. For Satoru, too, to be honest. To live life fully. Ever since he knew what living meant, he never intended to live a proper life. The absence of his biological father and the death of his mother left an untreated wound in his heart, altering his mind in a way that left him isolated—a recluse from the world, almost. The only thing that used to keep him going was his sister, Tsumiki. Now she is really gone. But then, everything shifted when he first saw Gojo Satoru.

It was a big change to have people to look up to. To have a mother. Megumi called you mom way before he even considered Satoru as his father figure, and it was one of the most precious things in life. You never took that for granted, always spoiling him and treating him like he came from your own womb. You knew you'd never take the place of his biological mother, but you wanted to be someone the boy could rely on in such a cruel world. It was a bit strange when Satoru first brought up the idea of raising the Fushiguro boy. You were both still 18, barely even adults with so much pressure and responsibilities. But you knew, from the moment you saw this poor boy getting dragged home by your boyfriend, that you'd love him like no other.

You and Satoru gave him and Tsumiki a home. An unlikely one, but a home nonetheless. You gave him a love like no other, an unconditional, wholehearted, and absolute kind of love, even when the two of you were struggling. It was a type that couldn't be described by words and only felt. That, along with the friendship and true family he found within Nobara and Yuji, made him realize that even if he didn't live his life for himself, there were others in the world. Other people, whether that'd be a mother, a father, a sister, or a brother could give everything meaning. A reason to keep going.

At first, he only lived for Tsumiki. To use everything he had to save her. But then he found himself living for you, for Satoru, for Nobara and Yuji. Once more, he would try again. This wasn't a chance he'd take for granted.

Reading the note made Megumi feel a kind of warmth he hadn't felt in a long time. The kind that he last felt when you hugged him tightly and kissed his forehead before everything in Shibuya happened. That was probably the last time he saw you happy and alive. The world was dull when you died. A victim of that son of a bitch curse Mahito. That was a loss like no other, so incredibly painful and numbing.

At least you died in an honorable way.

After that, he didn't know how to function. Tsumiki, Nobara, and now you. The boy felt half of his soul chip away.

Your husband was even worse. Inconsolable. Watching his wife die in front of his eyes before getting sealed the second after. When the man came out of the prison realm, anyone could tell he wasn't the same. There was no chance the old Gojo would ever return. And sure, he was still lighthearted, but Megumi could tell there was a weight in his gait—the heavy burden of the loss of his darling wife dragging down every word that came out of his mouth. He saw the sadness, longing, anger, and pure vengeance in his eyes. It never did go away. Not even when Sukuna butchered the man in half. At least now, the two of you were together in the afterlife. Megumi truly hoped that. He didn't believe much in that kind of stuff, but for his mother and his father, he prayed for a final peace to be granted.

That hope—along with the one amongst the living pushed Megumi to go on. To not just survive but to really live. Even beyond that, there were others too. His cousin, Maki, who was thankfully alive, and even Toge and Panda.

This was love. That unanswered purpose of life. It's to give love and find love in others. Love is why people do crazy things: to sacrifice the world, to sacrifice themselves. That's why he kept living even when his own dad disappeared or why he kept fighting to keep his sister alive. Love is why, despite the grief, Satoru still fought for you, for your memory, and for your efforts. Love is the reason he's alive.

And if anything, Megumi learned that when you have people in your life, you'd do anything to keep them in it. That's what you and Satoru taught him. Waking up in his own body again and greeted by the sight of his best friends—that was one of the biggest blessings he has ever received.

For his family, he would do anything.

i'm fucking crying. like actually. 3 chapters to go until this manga ends and i still can't fathom everything happening bruv

btw, this is what i imagine the letter would look like haha. half cannonical cuz it's the panel translation!! excuse my handwriting um

also sorry this isn't really proofread lol, i really wanted to post!!

dividers @cafekitsune @i-mmaculatus

[justaaveragereader]

Slashtober 🔪|| Invisible Man Hongjoong

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Choking, MeanDom!Hongjoong, Pussy Slapping, Man Handling, Degradation, Spanking, Unprotected Sex, Name Calling (Whore, Slut..), Stomach Bulge, Rough Sex, Mirror Sex, Consensual Sex, If I Missed Anything.. Let Me Know…👀!

A/N: They are all slashers so all of them are going to be boarder lining mean doms Or just mean doms🤪😁.

Slashtober Masterlist

NSFW UNDER CUT🔞 MDNI!!!

The first new neighbor was Kim Hongjoong, devilish eyes, sharp nose, and pristine clean man. With a huge moving truck across the street you couldn’t help but get curious as to who was moving in. You quickly made way to introduce yourself, wanting to befriend the hot, and hopefully single male. He was out on his lawn instructing the movers where to place his boxes in his home. With arms full of water bottles you stood by the curb.

“Hello! I hope I’m not disturbing you, but I saw you were new to the neighborhood. I just wanted to stop over and introduce myself, and also offer some water as I see you all are working ha-..”

He turned around to look at you and you trailed off into your sentence, mind completely blanking by his visuals. He was even hotter up close.

“Why hello!” His voice was higher than you expected yet it was still so attractive like the rest of him. From that day forward. Anytime you saw him outside you went out of your way to greet Hongjoong, you learned he had no wife, no kids, he owned the home he was living in. You never saw anyone leave in or out, so you assumed he had no girlfriend either. He did leave at odd times of the night, sometimes not returning til late a.m. you had assumed his job as an artist made him have odd hours.

As more neighbors started to pile into the neighborhood the weirder things got, you noticed no matter how many times you closed your bedroom window, it was always left open a crack. Strange white residue would be left on your mirror. Certain clothing items would be missing. Yet you never felt the need to investigate what went on. Blaming it on your lack of caffeine, along with your lack of sleep. One night you had awoken to the buttons to your night shirt popping open slowly, your eyes literally watching them undo themselves. Too stunned to move you watch the last button pop. The creaking of your mattress falls upon your deaf ears, stunned by the sight in front of you. Nothing. Absolutely nothing is there, nothing you can see, nothing you can make out. Nothing. Your heavy breathing is the only sound heard, besides the late night crickets making noise out your cracked window. The cool autumn breeze blows through, causing you to shiver.

The indentation on your bed should’ve clicked in your head but when you looked forward at the mirror all you saw was yourself panting and out of breath. Deciding it was best you lay back down, forcing yourself to go to sleep. If this was a dream you were definitely not going to entertain it any longer.

As morning came your window was still yet cracked, the room now cold with the autumn air, and your bed messily tossed around. Looking out of your window, you see him once again. Raking the leaves on his lawn, Kim Hongjoong. While you stand and gawk at him it never registers in your mind that your night shirt is completely unbuttoned, your bra just completely out for everyone to see. It’s almost like he senses you looking at him. Turning from the leaves he looks up at you, shooting you a toothy grin, waving his one nail manicured hand at you. You smile back, clearly dumbstruck at his warm smile. The breeze of air flows in, blowing your shirt back, the nipply feeling in your skin causes you to look down, embarrassment creeping up at your neck, when you look up, Hongjoong isn’t there. The pile of leaves are scattered, no signs of every being raked. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you step away from the window. Proceeding to get ready, as you walk to your bathroom you notice that weird white residue on the lower half of the mirror, letting out a huff you start your normal routine of getting items to clean the mirror, while struggling to find an outfit for the day.

~

It was always at night time when things got weird for you. The window always cracked open at night, your pajamas would randomly be off. You were convinced you truly were going insane. That was till everything snowballed one night. Those light touches turned into firm grasps, your airways would at times become cut off like something was blocking them. Your cunt would ache like it had just got rammed the night prior. Yet you always woke up with a chipper attitude, a small limp in your walk but a bright, relieved smile nonetheless. Tonight was no different, you heard the window crack, not even bothering to turn over, you remained still. Trying to level your breathing out as you feel the cool air invade your warm space. The small creaks of your floorboards can be heard. Suddenly a cold object touches your ankle, causing your body to flinch. Your leg shoots close to your chest, eyes open wide trying to make out whatever was in the dark. You saw absolutely nothing, were you truly losing your mind? Had you gone off the deep end?

“What are you..?” You whisper out quietly, you hear the bed creak as if something sat on it, yet you are on high alert with fear it doesn’t register in your mind. You feel an object touch your shoulder pushing you down harshly. Your body submits easily, you’ve done this same song and dance numerous times. Yet this was always the thrilling part, the part where you would try to piece together what or who was doing this. A high pitched laugh can be heard through the room, causing your body to attempt to sit up just to be pushed back down.

“I’m the best thing that’s happened to you slut.” A voice suddenly speaks out, you feel your legs shift open the bed dipping with each movement. A cool sensation runs up and down your warm fleshy thighs. You let out a small whimper, so easily submitting yourself to whatever it was that was making you walk like your legs were two over cooked noodles in the morning.

“You like this don’t you? Needy whore.” Hongjoong pushes his thumb down on your clit through your pajama pants, he’s been doing this so long with you he knows your body, and what it likes. He knows it so well, he can be deprived of all senses and he’d still know how to work your body. You let out a small moan, cocking your legs open more. Morals tossed aside for something you continuously thought was a dream. His thumb rubbing small circles amongst your clit, drawing our small noises from you. You were always so pretty when you made those sweet noises for him. Drawing his hand away from your cunt, he gets more comfortable between your legs. The lack of feeling him for a split second has you whining instantly. Bringing his hand down to your clothed pussy he gives it a slap. Causing your body to jerk up from the sudden action. If only you could see how his eyes darkened when he saw how well you responded to that action, waking up an inner demon in him.

“You want me to keep going? You’ll spread your legs for anything that crawls into this room huh.” He cackles out, mind now fueled with one thing, and one thing only. He was going to completely ruin your pretty ass, and he was going to make sure if you even had the ability to get up and walk the next day, you’d be walking with a limp. The noises that continue to leave your throat as he man handles you, pulling you to sit up so he can swiftly unbutton your shirt. He’s tossing you around like you are nothing more than a flesh light that he is lubing up getting ready to use.

Pulling you to the floor, your night shirt rides up your back, as your shirt is completely unbuttoned your bra is on display once again for whatever is pulling you down. Dragging you in front of the mirror, panting with nerves due to not being able to see what was dragging you around effortlessly. Crushing your thighs together you are wound up from all the touching on the bed. Whatever is in the room with you. You feel its warm breath on your ear, causing your nails to dig into your thigh. Gripping your face he causes you to look into the mirror, you already look fucked out. Your face is slick with what you think is saliva, shirt hanging off of your shoulders faint bruising littered across your chest. You suddenly feel cool hands on your lower half, watching with full attention in the mirror you see your pajama shorts get pulled down slowly. Revealing your embarrassingly wet panties that are clinging to your folds. A warm breath hits your ear.

“Look at you, disgusting slut. You get this wet for just anybody?” A high pitched voice with a rough undertone speaks out into your ear. Your legs are spread open more. A hand grips your scalp tightly, cocking your head back. You look up at nothing, a high pitched chuckle that sends a shiver down your spine makes your blood curdle, but your lower stomach flips.

“I should fuck you with in a inch of your life you pathetic whore. Look at you, so fucked out for me and I haven’t even stuck my cock in you.” Letting go of your scalp, he pushes you on your stomach, snatching your night shirt off you, unhooking your bra so your breast fall free. A humming noise is heard behind you, Hongjoong grips his hard cock through his suit, not that you could see any of his movements. Pushing a thumb on your clothed clit hearing the soft squelching noise of your panties being squashed between your moist lower lips. You let out a small moan, not wanting to give whatever it was the satisfaction of hearing your moans. You feel a heavy weight slap your ass, knowing you will have a welt on your cheek in the morning. Letting out a choked out moan your body shivers from the impact.

“Look in the mirror, whore. Look at yourself, pussy dripping for something you can’t even see. Are you always this easy?” He hisses out, gripping the back of your neck, bringing his lips down to your ear, the sweet scented breath engulfing your senses.

“Answer me!” He growls out into your ear, your eyes rolling back at the glimpse you catch in the mirror, your body angled in such a way yet it was just you in the mirror. You choke out a sob through your moan. His hand coming down to slap your ass, jiggling your ass cheek in his hand. Mounerving your body so when you are face first to the mirror. Hiking your hips up so your back arches, pulling you panties down behind your knees. The cool autumn air hits your hot core. Causing you to let out a small gasp. His hand wraps around your throat making you collide with his broad chest. Back curved, breast on display, panties pulled down to behind your knees.

“Pitiful slut, how many others have you had in this wet cunt of yours?” Letting his thumb roll around on your clit, you bite your lip trying your best to remain conscious as to what is going on around you. His hand swiftly comes down giving your pussy a slap. Causing your body to jerk forward, you would've fallen forward if it wasn’t for Hongjoongs tight hold on your throat. Gripping his hand tighter blocking your oxygen off, the way he’s flicking his fingers on your clit though, you could care less how your body is being deprived of oxygen. Your hands fly to try to grab the invisible figure as your vision starts getting blurry, yet the way an orgasm is coursing through your veins you should care more but the feeling of fear is what pushes you over the edge. Letting out a choked out cry, your toes curl. Taking in a big breath of air, while Hongjoong still rubs slow circles over your pulsing clit. You flounder around on the floor trying to run from the invisible hand that you cannot see. His strong hand grips your hips keeping you in place.

“There are plenty of pathetic whores I could waste my time on, yet I’m here with you. Be a good girl and give me another one.” He grits into your ear, causing you to let out a whimper, gripping the small patch of carpet in front of your mirror, you glimpse up, seeing your back perfectly arched, you can see an indentation of a hand print of your ass cheek. Causing your mouth to moisten, you were drooling. Were you truly a sight to see. Letting out a choked on sob. You start pleading.

“Please please please..” you cry out, brain completely dried of any thoughts. He wanted you to cum again, yet you were begging for it. His hand comes down to slap your cunt. Your body lurching forward. His hand wrapping around your throat again, pulling you back to his chest, his firm grip on your throat was destined to leave a mark. His grip tightening with each breath you take.

“Be a good slut and spread your lips open.” He grits into your ear, tightening his hand slightly. Brain on autopilot you spread your mouth open slightly. His hand cracking down on your ass cheek, making you jolt in his firm grasp.

“You going dumb already on me slut? Spread those pussy lips for me, otherwise I will make sure your pathetic ass doesn’t cum again.” Tone the lowest it’s been since he’s been in the room. Bringing your hand down to your sopping cunt you spread your lips open. Your fingers glistening with your slick. His hand tightens even more causing you to let out a choked on whimper.

“Look at yourself…” the hand that is wrapped around your throat jerks your head up, your body is flush with sweat, your fingers holding open your slick lips, eyes glazed over. You looked like eight days of blissful rain. His hand comes down to smack your spread open cunt. Causing your body to arch further into his grasp. Your fingers lip away from holding your lips open. His hand jerks your neck back, so you are flush against his body.

“Hold them lips open baby, if you don’t it’ll only get worse from here.” He whispers into your ear. Nibbling on your earlobe. Nodding in his tight grasp you move to open your lips back up, slick fingers making a quiet squelching noise. His hand comes back down to slap your cunt.

“Start counting slut. If you count like a good girl I will make it worth your while baby girl.” He grunts, digging his hard cock into your naked ass cheek. Bringing his hand down, slapping your cunt once more.

“O-one..” you stutter out.

“Wrong!” Bringing his hand down faster, smacking your cunt a little harder than last time.

“How many times did I smack your wet little cunt before this?” He says tilting your face up with his index finger that is tightly laced around your throat giving it a small squeeze. Shutting your eyes, your body shivers with neediness.

“Twice! Twice!” You choke out, tears streaming down your face.

“Please…plea-se.” You hiccup out.

“Please fuck me.” Your fingers still spreading your glistening cunt open, juices running down your inner thighs. Letting out a growl at your begging he lets go of your throat, shoving your head into the carpet, placing a hand onto your back, arching you even further. You feel a weight on your back, his body covers your own.

“Only because you beg so pretty.” He unzips a small section of his suit, letting his cock spring free, the way you are bent in the mirror you aren’t able to see the flesh of his cock. You still see nothing. Tapping his cock against your slick folds, he rubs his head over your puffy, red clit. Letting out a mockingly coo at you. Sliding his heavy cock in between your folds slickening himself up before sliding in, causing you to let out a loud moan. Your hands instantly gripping the plush carpet beneath you. Grabbing one of your hips, while keeping a hand on your lower back so you are perfectly arched. He lets out a hissing noise.

“Fuuuckkkk…” Hongjoong groans out, trying his best not to blow his load already. Your tight walls were strangling his cock. How was he supposed to last long? Gripping your neck he pulls you flush against him. He had to make this fast.

“Look at yourself baby, go ahead and look at yourself.” He grits into your ear, driving his hips up, you instantly let out a mewl. Picking your head up you look at yourself, stomach slightly bulged at the bottom, thick print of a cock in your stomach. Juices everywhere, drool on the side of your face, yeah, you definitely had a great night.

He slides out slightly before, placing a hand on your waist, bouncing your overly stimulated body on his cock. Your cunt grips him even tighter. His breathing getting heavier, your pussy felt like heaven. If he had to keep you locked up for his keepings best believe he would. Your loud screams can be easily heard from outside, Hongjoong did leave the window cracked open for them all to hear.

Slowing his hips down, as he pulls his cock slightly out, he pulls your body up, and slams you back down slowly. Making sure you feel every bulging vein drag through your warm wet walls. You can feel him pulsing in your cunt. You should be ashamed that you are getting off on God knows what but they way they are fucking you, you could care less. You are drooling over your breasts, you look in the mirror, seeing yourself being held up.

Shoving you to the floor, making sure when you lay face down all you get is a eye sight of your body being fucked. Sliding back in he lets out a groan. Slamming his hips back into you. Gripping the top of your ass cheeks to stabilize himself, so he can fuck you harder. He’s fucking you so good and so hard you can’t even feel the rug burn that’s beginning to set in on your knees. Your ass bounces off his suit, coating it in a shiny slick, the wet smacking noise is consistent with his thrusts.

“Fuck me! Oh my god…fuck me!” You shout your orgasm starting to creep up faster than you would like. Hunching his body over yours, he grabs a handful of your boob, his body weight on your neck feels delicious. His warm breath in your ear.

“I’m fucking you good aren’t I slut?” He grits out, cock still ramming into your squelching hole. You cry out, to what ever was fucking, warning them that you were close. Both hands come up to wrap around your throat, applying light pressure, causing your back to arch off the ground slightly, you can see your ass ricochet off of what is behind you. He’s holding you like he’s going to choke the life force out of you. Like you are nothing but dumb delicious putty in his hands. You can hear grunting filling the room over the wet skin smacking.

“You looking at yourself get fucked stupid slut?” He grits out, speeding up his hips resulting in your body to jolt forward with each thrust. Tears pour down your face, along with saliva. You truly were being fucked stupid. Biting his lip to prolong his orgasm, he tightens his hold on your throat, cutting your airways off. Your eyes roll back from the pleasure, cumming instantaneously. Your mouth drops open, drool pours out onto the plush rug beneath you. Hongjoongs hips speed up, his hands dropping from your throat, rag dolling your tightened cunt onto his heavy cock. Slamming his hips up once more he pulls out, shooting his load onto the mirror. Marking his territory, making sure you knew someone or something was there making you feel that good. Your head hits your rug immediately, passing out from your intense orgasms leaving Hongjoong to clean you up. Unzipping his suit slightly so he can let his sweaty skin breathe. He takes some of his dripping cum from the mirror and smears it across your puffy folds.

Marking you in as many ways as possible. Lifting you from the rug, he places you on your mattress. Tossing your clothes close to the side of your bed. Getting you comfortable on the bed, with no aftercare. He cracks open your window, zipping up the rest of his suit. Shimming his way back down the side of your house. Making sure to leave your window open just a crack.

~

The bright sun shining directly into your eye awakens you. As you crack open your eyes you are met with the sound of Hongjoong raking his leaves once more. Your body feels like it has been hit by a bus. Sitting up, limping your way to the bathroom, you don’t even care to think about why your clothes are off…last night was just a fever dream…right? Staring into your bathroom mirror, your lips perk up at the markings on your body..surely you aren’t crazy..? Whatever was here surely did a number on you, yet you couldn’t think of anything but the need for whatever it was to come back. Showering the stench of sweat off your body, you get dressed, and limp your way to where Hongjoong was raking leaves, from the corner of his eye he can see you limping. Trying to bite back his greedy smile, he turns around, acting startled at your appearance.

“Good Morning Neighbor!” He greets cheerfully.

You smile at him, rubbing your hands together, tugging your turtle neck up slightly to cover the markings on your neck.

“Good Morning Hongjoong! You are at it early this morning, aren’t you?”

He smiles at you briefly, internally he is boasting with joy, a shit eating grin being held back.

“I had a good night's rest last night, I feel really rejuvenated so I thought why not come out here and start the lawn early! How did you sleep? Restful, I hope?” He drops an octave at the last sentence, your body immediately littering with goosebumps. You smile at him telling him you slept all too well. Hopefully you will be able to sleep that well again. He tosses you a brief smile. Wrapping up the convo you bid him well, limping your way back to your house.

“Y/n! A good girl like you should always sleep well..” He calls out in a low tone. Your body immediately stops in your tracks. Turning around to look at Hongjoong who was nowhere to be seen. Looking around you see nothing, not even the pile of leaves he was raking together. Maybe the neighborhood was beginning to play tricks on you.

GIF by @justaaveragereader

Taglist: @araknoid @atinytinaa @sanhwalvr @k-hotchoisan @darkdayelixer @abby-grace @tunaasan @jkookiejiminlvr @luckyblue98 @notevenheretbh1 @moonlightsora @raindropsondragons @park-simphwa @ro-written @hwajoongsang @certifiedmoa @pearltinyy @minniebinnie @solarstoy @frobin4ever @gvnwks @ethelia @jin-neck-shaft @nitarolls @jenthehobbityelf @gg-trini @tearfulsparks78 @10nantscompanion @moonm1st @oreoqueen @leehopehocarat @scuzmunkie @bangtan4everr @acetruepunk @s-unflowxr @rxnexxi @tenpesos @mixling-blog @sammylvr @helsnik

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Could u do a tennis girl!reader x tom and she’s rlly good and playing at Wimbledon where tom comes and watches like the supportive boyfriend he is. Reader gets injured or something and the medics come on court and tend to her and the camera focuses on tom who is very worried. Maybe tom even gets to go on court and holds readers hand to comfort her and this makes fans go crazy. Love ur writing btw 🫶

When in Wimbledon || Tom Blyth x gf!reader

A/n: I LOVE WATCHING TENNIS!!! I actually went to Wimbledon this year and watched Emma Raducanu play so I made her the fc for this!!

Warnings: reader gets injured, idk what else

Wc: 808

Tom Blyth masterlist

divider by @pommecita

You feel a pair of strong hands wrap around your waist as a smile makes it to your lips, his familiar scent hitting your nose as you turn around. “I’m so happy you’re here,” You whisper in his neck, your hands wrapped snugly around him as he rubs your back.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, darling,” He grins, kissing your head before you go back to stretching with your coach. Tom watches as you stretch your limbs, preparing yourself for the match that was going to begin in 30 minutes.

You kiss your boyfriend goodbye, parting ways with him as it was your time to step out into court—Tom making his way to your player box where he would be seated beside your coach.

You step onto the pristine grass court at Wimbledon, the crowd buzzing with anticipation as you, a skilled tennis player, prepare for a crucial match. The familiar scent of freshly cut grass and the echo of applause surround you.

Tom’s eyes were fixated on you the whole time, his applaud more louder and enthusiastic than everyone else’s. The match unfolds, and you dominate the court with your powerful serves and agile movements. The spectators erupt into cheers with every successful point you score.

Tom can’t help but smile, his eyes filled with pride as he watches you play. The atmosphere is electric, and you can feel the energy of the crowd propelling you forward.

As the match progresses, you’re in top form, moving gracefully and hitting the ball with precision. Tom’s enthusiastic cheers blend with the crowd’s roars. And in a split second—in a misstep—your ankle gives out on you, tripping over and landing on your wrist, the anguish shooting through your body, a light scream leaving your lips.

The crowd falls into a hushed silence as you crumple to the ground, clutching your injuries, your breathing deep and harboured. The medics rush onto the court, their urgency reflected in the worried expressions of the spectators.

Tom’s face tightens with concern as he leans forward in his seat, his eyes never leaving you. “Fuck,” Joseph, your coach whispers to himself, his hands rubbing his forehead. The camera captures the worry etched on Tom’s face, and the entire audience holds its breath, collectively hoping for your well-being.

The medics examine you, carefully tending to your injured wrist and ankle as they move you to your seat. The pain was unbearable, and you fight back tears, knowing that this might mark the end of your season.

Tom watches with a pained expression, unable to hide his concern. Your coach stands from his seat, your seat was close enough to the players box that you could hear Joseph’s words of encouragement, but it’s Tom who steals the spotlight with his genuine worry and love for you.

Your entire body was shaking as one hand covers your face, tears brimming your eyes. You wanted Tom. You needed him by your side. You knew he would calm you down straight away. “Tom. I want my boyfriend here,” You hold one of the medics arm as he looks at you before nodding, talking into his radio.

In a heartwarming moment, the officials allow Tom to come onto the court. He rushes to your side, his face a mix of anxiety and determination. A sigh of relief escapes your lips as he gently takes your hand, “It’s okay, I’m here sweetheart, you’re going to be okay,” he offers words of comfort that only you can hear. His touch and soothing words calm your racing heart as you struggle to come to terms with the potential impact on your season.

The crowd watches in awe as Tom’s support becomes a beacon of reassurance amid the uncertainty. His caring gesture elicits a collective “aww” from the fans, who can’t help but admire the bond you share. Social media lights up with admiration for Tom’s devotion to you.

As the medics continue their evaluation, the reality sinks in—this might be a significant setback. Your eyes meet Tom’s, and he offers a gentle smile, silently promising to be there through thick and thin. The disappointment is palpable, but the gratitude for Tom’s unwavering support tempers the pain.

The medics advise you to withdraw from the match and seek further medical attention. Tom helps you stand, supporting your weight as you limp off the court. The crowd, initially filled with the thrill of competition, now applauds the display of resilience and love.

You give them a weak smile and wave as Tom remains by your side. When you step into your locker room, Tom assists you with a supportive arm around your shoulders. The pain is intense, but his presence provides a comforting distraction.

Your coach walks in as he engulfs you in a hug. “You’ll be okay, y/n. It’s a setback for sure, but you’ll be okay,” he comfortingly says to you as he hands you a water bottle to which your gratefully take.

You were taken to hospital, Tom still by your side as he held your hand. “You’ll be off for a few months, Y/n,” The doctor gives you a sympathetic smile as you nod your head, tears already blurring your sight.

The second the doctor left leaving you and Tom alone. You broke down in tears. He gave you a hug, whispering reassuring things in your ear. As you sobbed. Your season had been going so incredibly well until now. But you were grateful that Tom had been by your side during the entirety of it.

Y/n_Y/l/n

Liked by tomblyth, wimbledon, rachelzegler, josephmccarty and 8,307,253 others

before wimbledon vs. after wimbledon 🥲 it pains me the I have to miss out on the other half of this tennis season and I tried to downplay the issue so I thank all my fans who continued to support me during this difficult time. I’d like to thank all my close friends and family for being by my side during all of this. I love each and every single one of you 💗

view all comments

tomblyth: you’re so strong ml ❤️

↘️ y/n_y/l/n: I love you.

josephmmcarty: you’ll come back stronger than ever 💪

user92: I was there watching the match live and when I saw tom jumping the gate and rush to her, my heart melted 😭

user10: hope you heal quickly y/n!!!

user56: her and tom are literally so wholesome 🥹 when he was holding her hand when she was in pain, i swear i died of of how wholesome the moment was

user01: such a shame, she was doing so well this season!!! Get better y/n :)

[babygorewhore]

Newlyweds

Mafia AU Rafe Cameron x fem reader

After a dangerous situation, you’re forced to marry mafia boss Rafe Cameron. Someone you went to high school with years ago. And now, you both attempt to make the best of it.

Warnings! OOC Rafe a bit considering it’s a AU. Non graphic Talks of violence, beginning of a universe for my version of mafia Rafe. Male receiving oral! Degrading! He is covered in blood but it’s not readers! Praise! Unprotected sex! Photo in the middle is edited by @rafeyscurtainbangs

Not only was Rafe Cameron your previous enemy from high school, a certified asshole who most people avoided, he was also apparently in the mafia. A fact you didn’t learn until you were forced into a marriage with him weeks ago.

The situation was necessary. A bargain you had to make in order to save your family who owed their rivals a debt.

In order to maintain your and your parent’s safety, you agreed to marry Rafe for status. For protection. You lied to your friends, saying you’d both been secretly dating for a while and decided to get hitched.

It could be worse, you reasoned during moments of anxiety and anger. While Rafe was a dick, he did provide a nice bedroom and bought you a ring that was fitting to your personality. You both were reluctant to this arrangement and so far stuck to minimal interactions.

His only soft spot you observed was in the way he spoke to his youngest sister. Wheezie. He didn’t give her the same cold, sarcastic bite everyone else got. Did you eavesdrop? Yes but you might as well learn as much as possible.

Rafe’s newest peace offering was currently in front of you.

A wardrobe full of new clothes. All your size, tailored to your figure and even specific items used in your hobbies. He didn’t leave hand written notes or explain how he knew what to buy.

You selected a dark dress and a necklace above your heart. Both suited to your body but it radiated a new life. One that promised danger, wealth and power. He insisted you join him for dinner, sending you a nonnegotiable text in the morning. Signed off with a simple, R.C.

The table was already set when you entered the dining room. It was dimly lit and the plates were expensive. The style was clean cut. Newest editions of technology in every corner with a view of the ocean nearby.

Rafe sat at the head. Still in his business clothes but his tie was gone. His shirts and pants were always pristine. His legs were parted, large hands gripping the arms of the chair as he watched you sit across from him.

He looked angry, blue eyes on fire and his jaw twitching with irritation. You weighed your options, crossing your ankles as you toyed with the fringes of the tablecloth. Ultimately, you decided to speak.

“Is everything okay?”

He snorted and his shoulders rolled. Rafe tapped his fingers against the chair, his gold rings shining around his fingers. “Had to handle some business. I’m tired of dealing with incompetent people and family shit.”

You watched as he chewed his lower lip and bounced his knee. You narrowed your eyes and leaned forward.

“Was any of that about me? About our,” You looked for the right word, “situation?”

Rafe gave you a bitter smile. “Oh yeah, yeah, yeah. Couple of people notice how unhappy we look and have big ass mouths. They know we avoid each other.”

“Shit,” You breathe and he nods.

“Yeah. Shit. So, this whole thing is gonna fall apart if we keep this up.” Your hackles started raising but Rafe pressed on, “I mean if we’re gonna do this we might as well…be friends or something.”

That surprised you. His effort to seem calm and logical. You knew it was probably unreasonable to still view him as that high-school jock who bullied Pogues almost ten years ago. Or the fact you were one of the few people who stood up to him.

“You want to be friends?” You parroted and Rafe flicked his hand nonchalantly.

“That’s what I said, right? Look,” Rafe set his elbows on his knees, trying to seem smaller. “I’m not some kid anymore. And as shitty as this whole thing is, I’m trying here. I’m trying to make all this work and take care of everyone.”

Your defenses let down slightly and you acknowledged his point. You raised a glass and held it up in a truce.

“Friends?”

Rafe had a ghost of a smile on his face, a sight that was attractive and he raised his own.

“Friends.”

Two weeks later, Rafe stormed in the house and he was losing his mind. You were out of the shower, still wearing a robe with nothing underneath when you heard the echoing slam of the door. You heard him screaming at the handful of people who worked at the house, ordering security and barking orders that you couldn’t understand.

You removed your headphones, his words muffled by and you stood up to leave your bedroom.

You both made an effort to be friendly, you wouldn’t say a particular bond was there but the terms were improving. Your conversation about friendship looming in the air as you came downstairs.

You searched for him and found him sitting in his office. A lineup of books on shelves, computers and photographs around you. The leather seat was large underneath his body but you were shocked at the sight of him covered in blood.

Rafe trembled and you noticed the gun in his right hand. He stared at you with his nostrils flaring.

“What the hell happened?” Your eyes widened as he tapped the gun against the chair.

“Lot of people died tonight. An investment of ours went wrong and uh,” He laughed but it leaked with rage, “Our common enemy attempted to kill one of my men.”

He had shared the name of one of his partners, someone he spoke about with something close to respect.

“Barry?”

Rafe nodded and blew out a breath. “Part of the deal. People step out of line, people disobey orders or they turn on us,” He glanced at the gun. “And we don’t forgive it.”

He exhaled tightly and met your eyes. “One of em said some shit about you. Said they were gonna kill you. And I shot him without a second thought.” Your mouth parted at his confession.

“You protected me.”

Rafe licked his teeth and laid his head back against the seat. “I protect what’s mine. Anyone who tries to take what belongs to me away, pays the ultimate price.”

His statement gave you chills. You shivered despite the warm robe and a carnal desire ached in your core. The sight of the blood, his spread legs and the gun dangling loosely in his hand made you approach him.

You knelt down, toying with the button of his pants. Rafe looked down at you, his neck straining as his chest heaved at your nimble fingers. You paused and waited for him to give you permission.

“You wanna suck my cock, baby doll? Thank me for what I did?” His voice had a playful tone but he set down the weapon. He set a steady palm on the top of your head as you tugged his pants down.

An urgency overtook you and you hastily peeled down his boxers. You swallowed at the sight of his dick. He was big, thick and the tip pulsed with need as he adjusted his hips. He was giving you an invitation and you gladly took it.

You started off teasing, kissing his happy trail and making your way down to lick the soft skin. Rafe locked his fingers in your hair, encouraging you forward and you sucked his balls. He grunted sharply as you moaned and instinctively bounced on your heels.

You took him into your mouth, the tip shooting precum on your tongue as you bobbed your head and teased him with the rhythm. Rafe began to unravel, his hold firm and he wrapped his hand around your head. He brought your nose to his stomach and you gagged. Deepthroating him as your hands flew to his thighs.

You started running out of air, tears flickering in your lashes and you pulled back. Drool and his pleasure seeping from your mouth. He growled at the sight.

“Filthy little slut. I got half a mind to cum on your pretty face and send a picture to everyone. But I need to feel that pussy,” Rafe hauled you on his lap. Your legs straddling his dick moments before he shoved you down.

Your wet cunt sucked him in, sending a whine through your throat and Rafe groaned the further you sank. He drove his pelvis up, his pace brutal as he smashed his lips to yours.

You tasted the tang of blood on his mouth but it only increased the pressure in your stomach. Rafe’s flesh hit your clit as you bounced, your thigh muscles aiding the movement.

“Mhm, ride my dick. Taking me like such a good girl. You’re so goddamn pretty like this,” He moaned into your mouth and he lewdly licked a stripe up your neck.

Your nipples were painfully hard as you held onto his shoulders and circled your hips. Rafe smacked your ass and wrapped his hand around your throat. Not extremely hard but enough to get your attention.

You cried out a louder sound of pleasure and Rafe wickedly smirked.

“God, you’re so fucking disgusting. Getting off on me choking you?” He scanned your body, watching your tits bounce as you fucked him faster. “That’s it, come on you can do it better than that. Uh huh, you gonna cream on it?”

You wailed as your climax hit you and you shook. Rafe growled, “Open your fucking mouth!” His loud command mixed in with your orgasm made you immediately listen.

He spat in your mouth and gave you one more hard thrust. Rafe’s cum burst into your pussy, your entrance greedily taking in his seed.

He held you as you both came down from aftershock and you caught a glimpse of yourself in a reflection.

His hand left a bloody print on your neck. From his enemies that were now yours.

“Now, you’ve really sealed the deal.” Rafe lifted you up, making your legs encircle his waist and he laid you on the desk. He shoved aside what was in his way and started trailing his lips down your chest.

“You’re such a sweet girl, huh? Rewarding me? Now, you’re gonna let me reward you.”

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Tagging @xxbimbobunnyxx @oceandriveab @oceanblvd111 @redhead1180 @gri959 @loserboysandlithium @usergeta @rafeinterlude @rafecameroninterlude @cameronsprincess @sturnioloshacker @stillwjk-channie-lixie @justafangirls-blog

[eternity-death]

Stuck (Sunday X Reader)

No TW’s just prepare for second hand embarrassment.

——————

“I’m so sorry, maybe there’s some oil around here—“

“(Y/—“

“Maybe some scissors? Not for your wing of course—“

“(Y/N)—“

“— for my hair! Or maybe we need to call Miss Robin—“

“(Y/N).”

You cringe at the firm tone, clamping your mouth shut and looking at your higher-up.

“Yes..?”

“Please stop moving.”

Shame and embarrassment creep up your chest, and you realize that your frantic movements have been causing your tangled hair to yank at Mr. Sunday’s earring.

To add to your predicament, Mr. Sunday is taller than you. So his neck is bent down and to the side at an angle that must, no doubt, be uncomfortable.

“Sorry.” You blubber.

“It’s alright.” He says, though his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. You don’t even know how your hair got tangled with his piercing, it was like the universe was pulling some horrible, awful prank at your expense.

It doesn’t help that Mr. Sunday is handsome too, and the feeling of making a fool of yourself in-front of someone so pristine makes you want to curl up in a hole and die.

Oh my Xipe… how will this affect my job?!

“Am I getting fired?”

Sunday gives you an incredulous look, “I’m sorry?”

“No— you shouldn’t apologize. It’s my fault.”

“…That’s— that’s not what I…” The Angel turns his head away from you, deliberately hiding his face. He raises a hand to his mouth and his shoulders shake just the tiniest bit.

He clears his throat after a moment, then turns back to you with another smile. But this one doesn’t seem as insincere as before, “No, (Y/N). You’re not getting fired.” He says, then motioning to the tangled mess stuck to his wing, ”This wasn’t something we could have anticipated, after all.”

“I’ll cut my hair shorter, sir.”

“You don’t have to do that.” He says, “It has a lovely length, and it would be a shame to take away from it.”

What a nice guy!?

Your hands are clammy, “Thank you, sir.”

“There’s no need to thank me.” Sunday can’t see the knot, so he lifts a hand to feel for it. He can’t get a good analysis of it with his gloves on though.

“(Y/N), do you think you could try untangling it?”

“I can give it a shot?”

Sunday smiles and removes his hand, tilting his head and extending the wing to give you full access to the mess. With your nerves firing off, you tentatively reach forward and begin to gently untangle your hair.

You’ve never touched a halovian’s wings before, and you’re terrified that you might knick it with your nails or snag on it a little too hard. You’re careful not to touch the feathers, and you freeze whenever the wing bristles or twitches.

Sensitive, you think to yourself.

“Um… so, did getting these pierced hurt?” You ask to fill the awkward silence.

Sunday thinks about your question for a moment before responding, “Only briefly. I Imagine it’s a lot like piercing the cartilage of your ears.”

“Oh.”

He subconsciously glances towards your ears, but he can’t see them due to the way he’s turned, “Do you have piercings, (Y/N)?”

“Uh… no, I was always too scared to get them done. I think they look cool, though..!”

He smiles to himself at that.

“Uh oh…”

His smile falls a little, “What’s wrong?”

“… I think I made it worse…”

“…”

“…”

“…I’ll call for Robin.”

[berberriescorner]

"Balancing Acts"

Characters: Rio x Black!Reader.

Summary: Rio takes an important phone call while dealing with Beth and her minions.

Warnings: Profanity, Mentions of violence, Mild sexual innuendos, slight referencing to intimacy, implied threats, and Rio’s nonchalant view of violence.

Word Count: 1,200+.

Silence filled the room as tension wafted through a pristine kitchen. Rio posted up against the spotless island. Nerves had a funny way of forcing oneself to stress clean. His eyes bounced to the others occupying the space.

“Y’all ain't got shit to say?”

Beth and Ruby’s shoulders jumped as Annie started to stammer, “L-look I totally understand that we have an arrangement-.”

“Oh, you understand, yeah? If that were the case. I’d have my bread and we wouldn’t have this pointless conversation.”

“We—just need a little more time. There have been a few mishaps-.”

“I ain't come here for excuses. Figure the shit out. You got forty-eight hours. Get to it,” Rio barked.

His phone chirped and the three women gawked at how quickly he could turn the anger off. They watched as he answered the call.

“What's up darlin’? Yeah? Hold up, let me switch to video. Put little mamas on the phone.”

Rio's fingers moved quickly across his screen. The tiny, bashful voice flowed through the speaker on his phone making the usually emotionless man smile brightly. It quickly shifted to a frown once the little voice started to sniffle.

Your voice cooed from behind your daughter. You brushed her hair behind her ear, holding her tight, and kissing her head. You rocked her side to side, “Go ahead, baby, tell your Daddy what happened at school today.”

“Who made my baby girl cry?”

“D-daddy he said I was chubby,” she responded, lip quivering.

Rio’s eyes connected with yours. You frowned, “Some little a—boy said her cheeks were chubby and pinched them hard. She told him to stop. He followed that up with a hair pull, cackling his funky breath in her face. Miss Mamas cocked back and punched him in the face. The teacher only caught that part. She tried to explain, but the little b—terror lied. To keep things fair they both had to sit out at recess today.”

“Is that right? Look at me, my baby. You know you're beautiful, right?”

Your daughter sniffled, wiping away the remnants of her tears, and nodded.

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Then that's the only thing that matters. Okay? Daddy thinks you're beautiful. Would I lie to my baby girl?”

“No, sir,” she replied, as a small smile spread across her face.

“Fu—forget what that teacher said. You did the right thing. They say violence isn't the answer, but you should always defend yourself. You got me, little mamas?”

Your daughter giggled. Leaning closer to the screen she stage-whispered, “I made his nose bleed. His little ugly self deserved it.”

“That's my girl.”

“Unh-uh! Don't hype her up. She'll be swinging on everybody from this point forward,” you teased. “You’re trying to turn every member in this household into a TTGK.”

You and Rio had formed the acronym for when he wanted to discuss business without the little ones understanding. He chuckled at your use of ‘Trained To Go Killa.’

“I'm just trying to keep the love of my life and my babies ready.”

“I know, Papa. Stay ready-.”

“So you don't have to get ready,” your baby girl said, finishing your sentence.

“See? Just grown,” you teased, giving your daughter a little tickle. “Mommy needs to talk to Daddy. Go tell your sisters and brothers to get washed up for dinner,” you instructed, kissing her soft round cheek.

The minute she darted away, your eyes connected with your husbands. You bit your lip as his eyes roamed over the sight of you.

“Aren't you working?”

“Somethin’ like that,” he glanced at the three women looking gobsmacked. Rio cut his eyes at them, shaking his head, he continued, “I always got time for wifey and my babies though.”

“I need you to stop eyeing me like you’re about to take me down,” you squeaked.

“Oh, I plan to. When I get home,” he responded, baritone smooth as silk.

“Aht, aht! Chill. I have children to feed. I don't need to have impure thoughts at the dinner table.”

“Wouldn’t be the first, nor the last time that’s happened, mama.”

“Anyway! I tried to explain that situation to her.”

“What? That the little jerk needed his ass beat?”

“No, Rio! You act like you weren't doing the same thing at that age. His square-headed behind was flirting with her.”

“Nah, mama. I was smooth with it. You didn’t know? I’ve always had emotional intelligence. Even back then. Flirting or not, mans still needed some sense knocked into him. Do I know him? Who’s his pops? Might need to have a little chat with him.”

“First of all. Why am I not surprised you had the girlies in a frenzy, even back then? You were probably bringing them little fast-ass girls flowers and all,” you joked, playfully rolling your eyes. “You will not be going to talk to that boy’s father. You can’t threaten everybody, Papa.”

“Who said I was going to make threats? I just wanna talk.”

“Yeah, right. Keep lying in my face. Leave that family alone, Rio. If it happens again, then, by all means, do what you need to do. Hell, I might even have a chat with his mama, but let’s just wait and see. Okay, Papa?”

“You lucky I love your ass,” Rio grunted.

Marcus and your eldest daughter walked into the kitchen with rapid-fire questions.

“Your rude ass children are hungry. Let me go feed these beautiful heathens.”

“I ain’t forgot about taking you down. Be ready for me when I get home, yeah?”

Your two eldest children started to make gagging noises, reminding you that children were present. They pleaded with you not to have another baby. Jokingly, of course.

“Y’all always blocking on your pops. Chill on me. That’s my wife and I’ma love on her.”

Rio took a minute to say hello to the rest of his children. With an ‘I love you’ and promises of ‘cuddles’ later that night, Rio ended the call. He locked the device, sliding it back into his jacket pocket.

His eyes cut back to the three stooges (a name Mick had given them). The three women stared at Rio befuddled.

“Back to my money-.”

“How on earth do you do that,” Ruby questioned in amazement.

“Do what,” Rio responded curtly.

“You were seconds away from busting a cap in our behinds. In a snap of a finger, your entire mood changed. You slid right into daddy mode,” Ruby said, still in awe.

“Damn, your daddy game is on point,” Annie praised, following it with a yelp. Ruby had mugged the back of her head.

“You’re so calm and gentle with your family. It’s just-,” Beth started.

“Oh, I get it,” he responded, nodding a few times. “The thugged-out, tatted-up gangster is supposed to be the run-of-the-mill deadbeat baby daddy, right? We’ll also spin the block on me poppin’ a cap so to speak, because I still don’t see a duffle bag anywhere in sight.”

“That’s not what I meant at all,” Beth stammered, face red.

Rio cut his eyes to the shaky redhead. “Doubtful, but fuck all that. Yes, I take care of mine. I’ll give every last one of them the world if they ask for it. Now slide your asses out of my personal life, and go get my fucking money.”

Rio’s patience was dwindling by the second. He was ready to get to the money and get home to his wife. His tongue traced his lips at the thought of her.

These bitches need to stop wasting my time. I’m tryin’ to kiss my babies goodnight and put mama to sleep.

How did you lovelies like the latest update of Dad!Rio and his family of...I believe it's still six at the moment😆😂🥰? Comments and reblogs are appreciated my loves💖.

lovelies💜:

@astoldbychae @percosim @darqchilddaydreamz @thirtysomethinganduncensored @ravennaortiz

@amorestevens @abcdestinyyyy @jannavaire @novaniskye

@nobodygetsza @bisexuallyattractivebitch @1andonlytashae

@rio-reid-whoreee @lovedlover @sunshine-flower @realhotgurlshit

@thebumbqueen @blowmymbackout @tashawar @captainwithoutmakingitlove @kinkiicoils @theegoddessofmelanin

@beachyserasims @tbmotw @wroteitbutneverwatchedit @speckldsimblr

[mercuriallily]

After my Princess posting last night, I realised I forgot to include a post detailing which animation Shifty has when presenting you with various vessels, so this one will have that, as well as some insight into how long it took me to compile such information

Chapter 2 vessels Chapter 3 vessels Endgame poems (Chapters 2s) Endgame poems (Chapter 3s)

Dance: Adversary, Damsel, Thorn, Tower, Witch

Hands: Apotheosis, Networked Wild, Prisoner, Prisoner's Head, Razor's Heart, Stranger, Wounded Wild

Roar: Beast, Den, Eye of the Needle, Fury, Razor

Scary: Burned Grey, Deconstructed Damsel, Drowned Grey, Moment of Clarity, Nightmare, Spectre, Wraith

* * *

So. There are 25 statements by Shifty about each vessel and 34 endgame poems. That is a grand total of 59 different things I had to write down and categorise. Averaging five minutes to write out Shifty's statements and ten minutes for endgame poems, it took me about eight hours to get it all down (and that's not counting playing through the game numerous times or making the posts). I will be doing all of this for the Pristine Cut too, so that's another few hours. It's exhausting, but it's fun

If you come across this post, I'd be ever so grateful for a reblog. I want to make this stuff easily accessible for people who don't want to go through the whole game over and over and over again

[ereardon]

Before I Knew [Jake Seresin x Reader] Chapter One

A Jake Seresin unexpected pregnancy fic

Overview: On your first night after moving to San Diego to spend more time with your brother Bob, you unknowingly have a one night stand with his teammate Jake Seresin. For the first time in his whole life, Bob has a closely knit friend group and you’re desperate not to rock the boat. But an unexpected and unplanned pregnancy upends your world, forcing you and Jake closer together, against Bob’s wishes. What will happen when you find yourself actually falling for the father of your unborn child? 

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader; Bob Floyd x Sister!Reader 

Warnings: Pregnancy, cursing, eventual smut, alcohol

Chapter summary: Y/N meets Bob's squadron, and encounters someone she thought she'd never see again; the Daggers celebrate Jake's birthday where he and Y/N have their first conversation after the one night stand

Masterlist here

You were late. Bob was going to kill you. Your brother was a stickler when it came to being on time. It came as no surprise to anyone in your family that he had gone into the military.

You rushed through the door, purse strap getting caught on the handle and you tugged it free, chest rising as you spun around, searching for Bob. He stood in the corner of the coffee shop, pristine in a khaki uniform, eyes wide behind his wire glasses. 

“Hi Ducky,” he said as you tossed yourself into his arms, breathing in his familiar scent. He felt like home, even though it had been years since you and Bob had lived under the same roof. You had been barely a teen when Bob left for the Naval Academy, and his stints on land were far and few between after. His assignment to Top Gun was the first time he had settled somewhere on a more permanent basis. It’s why you decided to move to San Diego after college. All of your friends had scattered around the country – grad school in New York, policy analysts in Washington, even one friend had taken an internship with an art dealer in Miami. But you had packed up and left Tennessee with one goal. Be closer to your brother. 

“Bobby,” you grinned, stepping back to admire him. Every time you saw him it was months apart and so much had changed, but also so little. He was the same Bob who had thrown you over his shoulder to win the family flag football game on Thanksgiving. The same Bob who had carried your book bag for you when you were in elementary school and he was a middle schooler and went a mile out of his way every morning to make sure you got to your homeroom class safe and sound. The Bob who always picked up, day or night, when you called. The Bob who listened to you weep about your college boyfriend who broke your heart. The Bob who took care of you when you were seven and had the flu and your mom was working a double shift at the hospital and couldn’t stay home with you. 

“Ducky,” he said, dropping your hands. The familiar nickname on his tongue brought forward a flood of memories: spring weekends flying kites in the nearby park, sitting on the back of a tandem bike with Bob on a trip to Florida to visit your grandparents, the fort the two of you made the one time it snowed two feet in Tennessee in under a day in March. “This is my squad. Guys, meet my sister, Y/N.” 

You tore your gaze from Bob, looking over at the table he was gesturing to, a smile plastered on your face. A beautiful brunette with pearly white teeth and a tight bun was on the far left. That was Phoenix. You had received a handful of letters from Bob talking about her. Next to Phoenix was a handsome, bulky man with a mustache in a plain blue t-shirt. Wow, he was gorgeous. 

Your eyes shifted over one more, breath halting in your throat as your gaze slowly crept up. First you spotted the dog tags. Eerily familiar, but then again, a lot of military guys wore dog tags, right? 

Then the chin. Ridiculously cut jaw, slight bifurcated butt chin that you had found weirdly adorable two nights before. Plump, pink lips, puckered up in a grin. You felt your heart sink. There was only one thing left. You raised your eyes to his. Clear, seafoam green. An ocean in two small orbs. He smiled as you screamed internally. 

Bob’s voice drew you out of your coma. “That’s Bradley.” The mustache man waved a hand. “And Jake Seresin. Hangman.” 

Jake. Your stomach did a somersault. 

Last time you had seen him, you had been teetering on the edge of drunk, standing outside of the bar with one hand on the railing, the salty ocean wind licking at the sweat on your collarbone, flicking the ends of your hair up against your chin.

The next moment, his tongue was on your throat, in your mouth, fingers in your hair, pressing your body against the railing of the deck as you whimpered into his lips. 

You had crept out of bed before he woke up. Just a gorgeous, tan, muscular back sticking out beneath crisp white sheets as you tugged on your short dress and called an Uber. You had expected to never see him again. 

And here he was, smirking at you as your brother’s gaze narrowed. 

You had fucked up. Correction. You had fucked Jake Seresin. And that was a major fuck up. 

***

Bob had never been the type to have a huge friend group, or any close friends really. So the first time he called from Top Gun, giddy with excitement, you had been elated for him. Your brother deserved a tightly knit friend group.

Before you had moved to San Diego, Bob had filled you in on the group’s antics. Their flights, their wild nights out, the dynamics. But he had centered mostly on Phoenix and Rooster. 

Jake had conveniently been left out of the majority of the conversation. 

“Well?” Bob asked as the two of you headed back to his house in your rental car. “What do you think of the group?” 

“They’re nice,” you said. 

“That’s it? Nice?” 

You sighed. “I’m really happy for you, Bobby. You have a good group of friends. I know that’s what you always wanted.” 

Bob leaned back against the seat. You were the one person that Bob confided in. He was an open book and you could read him with one glance. Looking over, you spotted his furrowed brow, the tense way he was squeezing his knuckles together. 

“Are you OK?” you asked, turning your eyes back toward the road, slowing down to take a right turn. 

“Tell me you didn’t move here for me.” 

“Then I’d be lying.” 

“Y/N,” Bob said. His voice had taken on Big Brother™ mode. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Don’t you want me around?” you whispered. 

“Of course I do,” Bob replied. “I just don’t want you to waste your life following me.” 

“Living in California a waste?” you asked. “No way.” 

“What’s the plan, Duck?” 

“Not everyone was born potty trained and with a plan, Bobby.” 

“You’re twenty-three,” he countered. “It’s time to be an adult and figure out what you’re doing with your life.” 

“You sound like mom.” 

“And we both know she’s never wrong.” 

You sighed. “Just because you got your life together at seven doesn’t mean I have to.” 

“Duck—” 

You cut him off. “Bobby, please. It’s been a week. Give me a little time and I promise, I'll figure out what I’m doing. Just be my brother, OK, instead of acting like my dad.” 

That silenced him. Bob had taken your father’s disappearance harder than you had. He put on a brave face. He stepped up. He became the man of the house. But that meant that he had taken it upon himself to be your brother and your dad. So even at twenty three he still saw you as a child. 

The two of you drove the rest of the way back to Bob’s house in silence. Inside, you were just about to close the door to your guest bedroom when Bob’s voice floated down the hall. 

“By the way,” he said, “I told the squad we’d go out for drinks with them tonight. It’s Jake’s birthday.” 

You grimaced. “Sounds good.” 

“Leave at nine?” 

“Sure.” You closed the door, plopping down on the bed face first. You had moved to San Diego to figure your life out. And of course the first thing you had done was have a one night stand with one of Bob’s teammates. If he had been anyone else in the world you would have been able to avoid him. 

What do you get someone for their birthday when you hoped you’d never see them again? 

***

“Floyd!” 

You turned at the same time as Bob. Bradley grinned. “Oh this is going to get confusing.” 

“Here.” Natasha pointed to the bar stool next to her. “Have a seat. Boys will get you a drink. Bradshaw?” 

Bradley tipped his head. “On it, ma’am.” 

She rolled her eyes as you settled into the seat, crossing your legs beneath the short skirt. “So, Y/N. Bob’s told me all about his little sister. But he left out that you were coming to live here.” 

“I’m not much of a planner.” 

Phoenix laughed. “The anti-Bob. I like you already.” 

“He’s told me a lot about you,” you replied. “And Bradley.” 

“And nothing about Jake I’m guessing?” You nodded and Phoenix took a sip of her beer. “Trust me when I say, you don’t want to even go there.” 

“Are you speaking from experience?” 

Phoenix craned her neck around, making sure the two of you were out of earshot before nodding. “Just steer clear of him. That’s my suggestion. Hangman is fun for a night. But things get messy quick. And he and Bob have a little bit of a history.” 

You frowned. “What kind of history?” 

Just as Phoenix opened her mouth to respond, Bradley pressed a beer into your open hand. “Ducky.” 

You grimaced. “Bobby, you didn’t!” 

He shrugged. “Sorry.” 

You rolled your eyes. “I’m so going to eat your last Pop-Tart tomorrow just to get you back for that.” 

“Fill us in, will you?” Phoenix asked. 

“When she was four, Y/N became obsessed with those little yellow rubber ducks that you put in your bath.” You groaned as your brother recounted the full story. How you had thrown a fit when your mother had tried to take you out of the bath and the only thing to calm you had been to fill your bed with the rubber ducks. And how the next morning that continued, one rubber duck gripped firmly in your chubby hand as you ate breakfast, went to the park, tagged along to the grocery store, went to daycare. This continued for weeks. 

You didn’t want to admit to the team that you still had a rubber duck stuffed inside your suitcase back at Bob’s house. It was a safety net of sorts. 

“Sorry, Duck,” Bob said, squeezing your shoulders and placing a small peck on the top of your head. 

You looked up at him. His cheeks were flushed, he had a massive grin on his face. He was happy. All you had wanted in as long as you could remember was for Bob to be happy. He took your happiness more seriously than his own. It was time you returned the favor. 

“Am I interrupting?” All eyes turned to Jake. He had on a tight black t-shirt and a pair of jeans with cowboy boots peeking out the bottom. He shot a grin your way and you did your best to avoid his eye contact. 

“Happy birthday, Hangman.” There was a chill in Bob’s voice, or perhaps you were reading into it because of what Phoenix had said earlier. 

Jake nodded. “Thanks, man. Anyone up for a game of darts?” 

Bob dropped his hand from your shoulder, following Phoenix and Jake back toward the darts board on one end of the bar. You sat back in your seat, tipping the beer down your throat, watching as they played. There was an easy banter with all of them. 

You finished your beer, the darts game still ongoing. Quietly, you slipped around the edge of the room, out the door that led to the back deck. 

It was quiet outside, just the sound of the waves crashing against the hard sand and the soft hum of the music as it seeped through under the door and from behind the old windows. You laid your fingertips on the wooden railing, tipping your head back toward the moon that was slung low in the sky, feeling the cool breeze dry the sweat that had started to form on the base of your neck. 

“Mind if I join?” 

You turned. Jake stepped out onto the deck, a beer in one hand. He approached the railing, putting the green bottle down and smirking over at you. This time you were far less drunk. You shrugged. “It’s your birthday. Who am I to say what you can or can’t do?” 

He frowned. “Don’t be like that.” 

“Just because you’ve seen me naked doesn’t mean you know me.” 

He looked bristled. “Y/N. I had no idea you were Bob’s sister when we met the other night. If I had known, I—”

“Wouldn’t have fucked me?” 

He grimaced. “You’re the one that left without saying anything.” 

You folded your arms over your chest. “It’s not like you were falling over yourself to drive me home. It was better that way and we both know it.” You allowed yourself to look up. God, he was stunning. Green, wide eyes. Tanned skin, the way his forearm flexed as he gripped the railing. You could remember the way his touch felt as he dragged his fingertips over your skin. You tried to shake the memory from your mind. “Just do me one favor.” 

“Sure.” 

“Don’t tell Bob,” you whispered. “Let’s just forget the other night ever happened.” 

Jake’s gaze lingered. “If that’s what you want.” 

You pushed up off of the railing. “It’ll be better, trust me.” You headed for the door, turning around at the last moment. Jake was still leaning against the railing, watching the waves in the dark. “Jake?” 

He turned, green eyes wide. There was something almost sad about him, you thought. It was a fleeting glimpse, but you saw it. 

“Happy birthday.” 

He smiled. You turned, peering through the glass on the wood door. Bob had his head thrown back in a laugh as Bradley pounded against the piano keys and Phoenix danced. You smiled. Your brother was happy. 

You weren’t going to ruin his perfectly crafted life by saying you had slept with one of his friends. It would be easier for everyone if you and Jake Seresin pretended you had never met before. 

How would they ever catch you in your lie? 

Please follow my library page @ereardonlibrary as that will largely serve as my tag list. Anyone I previous promised to tag is here:

@bobfloydsbabe @blue-aconite @wkndwlff @mamachasesmayhem @mandylove1000 @djs8891 @clancycucumber230 @rosiahills22 @buckysteveloki-me  @kmc1989 @gigisimsonmars @eloquentdreamer @mjisbby @shanimallina87 @seresinslady @seresinhangmanjake @blackwidownat2814 @yanna-banana @bbyvanessaa  @mrsjobarnes @midnightmagpiemama @ingoaliesitrust @rockbottomphilosophies-blog @iangiemae @joaquinwhorres @boiolay @sometimesanalice @spinning-away

[vinomino]

Night Terror

This weight of his sins.

Featuring: Sakura Haruka x gn!Reader

Contents: Angst w/comfort, trauma, descriptions of injury

WC: 1K

“Sakura.” You never call him that. It makes his heart lunge into his throat. A sticky and murky guttural dread weighs him down. He doesn’t want to look at you, see the pain on your face, he knows it will haunt him. “Sakura—” The only word you can force out.

He’s walking on a tightrope, the ground is bottomless void. The protruding fibers dig into the meat of his bare feet, as his legs shake, trembling like newborn lamb with every step. It’s a familiar sensation, one he knows too much of.

“Don’t get close to him.” They warn.

“He’s a bad person.” They accuse.

“What a freak.” They condemn.

“There’s nothing he’s good for.” They stab.

“I-I didn’t, I didn’t…mean to hurt you.” Sakura’s violently shaking, rocking back and forth to soothe himself. “I didn’t mean too—” A sob rips from within, he’s digging his knuckles into each eyeball to stop his tears. He hates weak people, lame people, and yet here he is, acting just like them. Like the people he despises. “I didn’t mean to.” His lungs are tightening, squeezing out all the oxygen. “It's okay…I’m okay.” You’re not sure whether to touch him or not, your hand awkwardly held out a few inches away from his form. “Do you want something to drink?” Unscrewing the water bottle from the nightstand, clasping it within your palms. A beat passes, Sakura slowly nods, bringing down his hands to reach for it.

He gulps the entire bottle empty. Letting it drop to the floor with a clack near his feet. “Sakura, can you hear me?” His head is drooped, eyes focusing on the wooden floor boards, catching onto the skin of your feet when you step in front of him. He flinches when you touch the back of his head, resting his head against the navel of your stomach. He’s able to faintly hear your heartbeat. Slouching forward, to further press his nose into your supple flesh, taking a deep inhale, your warm scent placating his inner turmoil. “Can hear you…” Sakura mumbles against you. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, it’s alright.” Your soft voice echoes throughout the room.

Opening his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing forms— he feels a wet droplet hit his head. Craning his neck to look at where it came from, he’s finally seeing your face. “Shit! Your bleeding, it’s—” He abruptly stands up, cradling your head, he sees the wound above your eyebrow. His stomach is bubbling, he feels the urge to throw up, to free himself from his sins.

The injury you sustained because of him. When he threw you across the room, in a panic. Sakura can’t even remember what he had dreamt about anymore, what could’ve made him that hysterical to confuse his girlfriend as an enemy. The memory of him raising his hand against you, the hand he swore to protect you with, carved holes in his chest. This is why everybody shunned him, called him a monster, somebody who could never be trusted—

“Oh, haha I didn’t notice, I should probably tend to it. Would you help with that?” Your hands are placed on top of his. “Right— wait here,” He rushes to the medicine cabinet, hazardously bumping into doorframes and chairs. Shortly, returning to you with saline, gauze, and bandages. “Sit here.” The bed dips under your weight, his hand shakes as he dabs the blood away. The dark red liquid, bubbling out of your gash, soaking the pristine cotton dark.

Sakura has done this thousands of times, but he never wanted to do it on you. To him, you couldn’t get hurt or be in pain, he wouldn’t allow it yet he was the cause. The painful squeeze in his chest, guilt coursing through every vein in his body. The need to rip himself apart, to atone for what he did.

“I think it stopped bleeding now.” You speak with a tinge of fatigue on your tongue. The hour is late into the night, the moon is glimmering beyond the windows. “I’ll put the bandage on now.” Forcing his hands to steady as he covers the cut. Relaxing his fist open, the crumbled gauze sits on his palm. Blood pressed into the crevices on his skin. Your blood.

“Thank you.” You lightly touch the bandage, “Nothing to thank me for.” Watching him stride into the bathroom. The bright fluorescent light burns his eyes, tossing the dirty cotton in the bin. He scrubs at his hands, the soap lessening the abrasiveness. The faucet has been running for a while. You stand up and head towards where he was, finding him rubbing his palms in a trance. “Haru…they're clean now.” You shut the water off, grabbing the small towel to dry him off. He stills and you grasp his larger hands and wipe them down. Your cold hands touch his somber face, “Let’s go back to sleep.”

Sakura’s tired, he allows you to drag him by the arm back to the mattress. Dragging him down with you under the covers. The plush pillow softens around his head. He never had a pillow before meeting you. All these good things came along when you came into his life and he ruined it. Almost like you can sense his thoughts, “No more thinking okay? I’ll get mad.” You lightly giggle and tap the tip of his nose with your index. He gets a feeling like you’ll disappear into thin air when he holds you in his arms. Things that come easily go easily.

Come morning, he’ll apologize. He’ll apologize over and over, though he knows you’d just smile and forgive him. When your wound heals, there’ll be a scar, to always haunt him. To dig daggers into his heart. To remind him of his violence.

putting my 3 other drafts to side to write this

wanted to try a different writing style

Continued