#made me almost cry writing this part but hey

[lyn31]

Your writing is so wholesome and sweet of Zayne. Can you write one of where reader has a toxic, narcissistic, and cruel mom. Reader barely contacts her mom. Mom calls reader ofc cuz she needs something from reader and reader gets into an argument with her over the phone because she knows moms true intentions. Zayne gets home from work and sees reader upset and quiet. She then eventually breaks down to Zayne when he ask her what’s going on. Zayne comforts reader tells her she will be ok and that he will always be there for her. I have a narcissistic mom who is really mean so I think Zayne would be so comforting, understanding, and safe to always be around. Thank you and if you don’t want to write this I completely understand.

Thank you for the req! Hopefully I did it justice and Zayne's comfort give you one as well 💕 I try to make the mom's manipulative subtle, so fingercrossed it come across, wait that sound bad 😭 I'm sorry, please enjoy the fluffy part!

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Comfort

Summary

You confronts the emotional manipulation of you past while finding healing and unconditional love with your patient partner, Zayne, in a quiet moment of understanding and comfort.

My Masterlist ✨

Notes

Pairing: Zayne x MC/Reader As you know, I usually make my characters can fit both MC or Non-MC characters, so this can fit both way, with MC in AU or with Non-MC in general! (I like to think her as MC but don't want to restrict the reader, my brain is weird that way)

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The phone buzzes on the counter, and the name that makes your stomach churn flashes on the screen. You don’t have to check—you already know. Your mom. You try to ignore it, but the buzzing doesn’t stop. When you finally answer, there’s no "hello," no "how are you." Just that sharp, needy tone she’s perfected.

"Hey, I need you to do something for me."

You don’t have the energy to pretend today. "What is it this time?"

Her voice hardens. "You’re being dramatic. I’m asking for help, not a lecture. Just send the money, and we can move on."

You roll your eyes, but keep your voice level. "I can’t. I told you that last time. I’m not sending you any more money. I can’t keep doing this."

Silence on the other end. Then her voice lowers, cutting through the tension like a blade. “You know, I raised you. I gave you everything I could…” She trails off, as if the words are meant to strike a chord.

But you sense there’s more to her tone than just guilt. It’s almost like she’s regretting the distance between you two, but not enough to admit it. “The least you could do is help me when I need it. It’s not like I’m asking for much."

A tight knot forms in your chest. You can feel the shame she’s trying to twist around you. But you refuse to let it take hold. Not today.

"Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you—" You cut yourself off with a sigh.

You almost go there. Almost. But what’s the point? She never listens anyway.

"I can’t keep being your backup when you mess up. I have my own life, and you’ve made it clear you don’t care about that."

You hear her scoff. "You’re just like your father—selfish. Fine, don’t help. I’ll manage somehow, like I always do." You don’t even flinch. You’ve heard it all before. The line goes dead then.

You stare at the phone in your hand, screen gone dark. The buzzing silence that follows rings louder than the call ever did. Your pulse echoes in your ears, fingers trembling before you even realize it.

It always happens like this—she calls, asks for something, makes you feel guilty, then ends with some insult, like it’s your fault you’ve become a person with boundaries.

There's a tightness behind your eyes that you fight not to blink away.

You feel a lump in your throat, but you swallow it down. You’re not going to cry over this again.

You hate how easy it is for her voice to unravel you. How a few words drag years of hurt back to the surface, and how even now, part of you wonders if you’re the bad one.

The guilt creeping up like an old, familiar friend. Maybe I should’ve helped? You fight the thought down. No. You can’t keep giving in. But the weight presses on your chest—maybe you are selfish.

Maybe this is why she calls. To remind you that, no matter what you do, it’s never enough. It’s twisted, but part of you wonders—if you did cave, if you just sent the money, would the call have lasted longer? Would she have asked how you were? Said she missed you?

You shove that voice away, swallowing the guilt and hope down, but it leaves a bruise.

When Zayne walks through the door, for a split second, your body tenses, as if expecting another blow. But it’s Zayne. And the air shifts. He doesn’t immediately say anything. He’s always quiet when he notices you’re off, sensing it before you even say a word.

The soft click of the door behind him is enough to make you glance over your shoulder. He notices immediately—your posture, the way your eyes seem distant, almost like you're shutting down.

His gaze softens as he takes a step closer, his voice gentle. "Hey, what's going on?"

You try to smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. You shake your head, barely holding it together. "It’s nothing."

He doesn’t buy it. He knows you too well, and he knows that tone. He sits next to you, close enough for your shoulders to touch, but not enough to invade your space. He waits. Silent. Patient. He doesn’t need you to speak right away. When you finally do, your voice cracks.

"Well," you murmur, voice small. "She called again. Just asking for something. Like she always does."

Zayne finds your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles—and somehow, that simple pressure slowly quiets the storm you didn’t realize was still raging. He doesn’t interrupt as you continue, the frustration and hurt breaking through. "She doesn’t care. Doesn’t even say hi anymore—just jumps straight to, ‘I need money,’ like I owe her everything."

He pulls you into him, lets you rest against his chest. He smells like home. The kind you never had growing up, but somehow ended up finding anyway. It’s steadying. It’s safe. It’s everything your mother never was.

You press your face into him, feeling the pressure you’ve been holding in. "I hate it," you whisper, barely above a breath. “I hate that she can still make me feel like I’m ten years old and worthless. Like I’m the one who did something wrong.”

Zayne’s arms wrap around you, comforting and strong. His voice is steady, low, like he’s speaking directly to the heart of the matter. "You’re not wrong," he says firmly.

“You’re not selfish for setting boundaries,” Zayne adds, a note of conviction in his voice. “I’ve seen you stand your ground before. Like with work. You told your boss no when they tried to overwork you last month. You’ve always been the one who stands up for yourself, even when it’s hard. You’ve got this.”

You want to believe him. You want to feel strong again. But it’s hard, so hard, to shake the voice she’s left in your head. “It’s always like this. Every call ends in guilt or screaming.”

You bury yourself deeper in his embrace, letting his warmth surround you, the tension in your chest slowly starting to fade away. You let out a shaky breath, but you still feel fragile. The battle between wanting to stay strong and feeling small from all the hurt she’s caused swirls inside of you.

Zayne shifts, his hand firm but gentle, anchoring you in the present. His presence is grounding, a reminder that he’s here, that he sees you. "I know," he says softly, like he understands the weight of it all, the toll it’s taken on you. "I can’t change what she does, but I can promise you this—you’re not alone in this. Not now, not ever."

"I’m so proud of you," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "For standing your ground. Love shouldn’t feel like a transaction. And yours isn’t. Not to me.”

You nod against his chest, your tears finally falling, but this time, it feels different. You’re not alone anymore. Zayne’s right here, with you, holding you through it all.

The silence between you stretches comfortably, only the quiet sound of his breathing and your own filling the space. Zayne doesn’t rush you, just lets you be. He doesn’t ask any more questions, sensing you need the calm more than anything else.

After a moment, he shifts slightly, his voice calm and steady as he speaks again. "Do you want some tea?" he asks, the suggestion simple but thoughtful. "Or maybe... we could watch something. Whatever you need."

You lift your head slightly, eyes meeting his. There’s a certain ease to his presence, one that doesn’t demand anything from you, just allows you to take whatever you need in your own time. He gently wipes the trail of your tears from your cheeks. You close your eyes, leaning into his hand.

“Honestly? I think I just want to be here," you admit, eyes still closed. The words come out with a slight shake to your voice, but the sincerity is clear.

Zayne gives a small nod, his fingers brushing your cheek, then your back, in a soft, almost absent gesture, but it’s enough to reassure you. "Alright. We can just stay here."

You rest your head back against his chest, the warmth of his body grounding you in the stillness of the moment. Zayne isn’t the type to fill the silence with words unless they’re necessary.

You sniffle, brushing at your cheeks, and for the first time in a while, a faint chuckle escapes you—unexpected, but real, a little breathless from the weight that’s slowly lifting off you. “You’re really not going to say anything, huh?”

“No need to,” he replies, his tone dry but with a subtle warmth. "What’s there to say?"

You nudge him lightly, a teasing smile on your lips. “Guess it’s up to me to keep the silence from getting boring, huh?”

Zayne tilts his head, lips twitching into a small smile. "I’m just here for the professional silence. It’s not my fault you can’t sit still without talking.”

You roll your eyes playfully, leaning into him a little more, his hand steady and soothing against your back. “Hey, I’m just keeping things interesting. Someone’s got to do it.”

“That goes without saying,” he says quietly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He pauses, then adds with quiet honesty. “But you don’t always have to talk to fill the space.”

You pause, his words sinking in, and a soft laugh escapes you. “Yeah, I guess I talk too much, huh?”

Without saying another word, he leans down, brushing his lips against yours in a soft, lingering kiss. You didn’t realize how much you needed the kiss until it happens—soft and unhurried, like he’s reminding you you’re still here. Still loved. Still worthy of gentleness.

His voice wraps around you like a blanket. “I like hearing you talk. As long as you feel like talking. It’s comforting, in its own way,” he murmurs against you, as if that choice is yours, just as it always is with him.

You smile against his lips, feeling a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the words. His simple affection, his quiet understanding sink in deeper than you expected, bringing a softness to the moment.

You lean into his touch as the tension you’ve been holding onto slowly begins to melt away, resting more comfortably against him, and start talking. “I haven’t really had time to just relax lately,” you begin, the words spilling out naturally now. “I mean, between work and everything else...”

Zayne listens, his fingers gently tracing circles on your back, his attention fully on you. You keep going, rambling a bit, the small, mundane things—the little worries and observations about your day. It’s not anything deep, but it feels good to just talk without the weight of everything else pressing on you.

For the first time all evening, you feel the knot in your chest finally loosen.

You realize how easy it is to simply exist in this moment with him—no expectations, no need to explain. Zayne doesn’t interrupt, just listens, and you find comfort in the space he holds for you without asking anything in return.

As your words trail off, you lean back into his arms, the weight on your chest finally lifted. The room is quiet, filled only with the steady rhythm of shared breaths.

It’s peaceful. Steadying. And it feels like enough.

Just the two of you, wrapped in the kind of presence that doesn’t need to prove anything—talking about nothing and everything.

You don’t say it out loud, but the thought is there, steady and quiet: how grateful you are that love—real love—doesn’t demand your suffering. It isn’t sharp or conditional like the kind you were raised with.

Zayne’s love is soft. Steady. Not loud, but clear enough to hear in every unspoken moment.

There’s no pressure here. No guilt. Just the quiet kind of care that lets you breathe.

And that, finally, is exactly what you need.

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Notes

I actually write this while imagining my mom turn this way, and it mess up with my brain... Good lord you guys that experience this are strong af... I mean it's not always just realizing that your parents actually just manipulating you right? It's also the fact that you might think deep down they can still love you or love you at all, not just themselves, alright okay, I need to chill or I'm gonna make myself cry 😭 Either way, you're all amazing! Stand your ground, there's nothing wrong about focusing on yourself first! 🫶🏻🥳 That's my motto anyway and I'm somewhat has a proper family 😂 I swear to god, sometimes I read what I say and then regret it but then I'll be like fuck it! They'll understand 😭 P.S. I was editing this while playing ToT, I need that fluff in between man...

[miss-bushido]

Hard to be soft, tough to be tender

Written for @subeddieweek Day 5. Prompts: Bathing, Pain, Crying Title from the song ‘Help I'm Alive’ by Metric

CW: referenced childhood trauma, broken bones, brief mentions of a hospital setting

*Writing this was kind of cathartic for me as I too hate asking for help. A lot of the time, as a kid and sometimes as an adult, I felt like a burden. Like I should know something immediately, and that I shouldn't ask for help because I should be able to handle it. Lots of therapy has helped, and the feelings of inadequacy have largely gone away.

This has a happy ending, but if you feel this may not be a fic you want to read because it hits too close to home, I completely understand.*

Eddie hated asking for help. Had hated it since he was a kid. Whenever he’d had to ask his Dad for help with anything- Math homework, putting a model together, spelling a word he’d never encountered before- he was met with either a put-upon and long-suffering sigh, or a stream of abuse about how stupid he was, why didn’t he know this already, or even that he should be able to figure it out for himself. Even after his Dad went to jail, and Wayne proved himself to be much kinder than his brother, Eddie still had trouble with it.

So it was no surprise that when he broke his right ankle after stepping stage wrong at the Hideout, he shoved away all offers of help as he was being released from the hospital.

It was fine.

He had it under control.

Stop asking, Henderson.

Steve had pursed his lips, given him that patented bitchy look that Eddie could always soften with a kiss or a caress, and shook his head. “Hey, so we’re not doing this,” he said, gesturing his hand at Eddie in a circle.

“Doing what?” Eddie asked, purposefully needling his boyfriend.

“You acting like an asshole because the people who love you want to help,” Steve answered. “It’s not wrong to ask for help or to receive it, Eddie.” He wanted to add, ‘I don’t know how many times I’ve had to tell you that’, but decided it would be better left unsaid.

It must have shown on his face, though, because Eddie frowned and gave him both middle fingers before he stalked off on his crutches. Steve rubbed his temples and followed a few feet behind. He desperately wanted to say something, but he decided Eddie needed to understand firsthand that acting like a stubborn ass wasn’t helping anyone, least of all him. It took a lot of self control on Steve’s part not to automatically help him, and he felt like a complete shithead as he did it.

Almost as soon as he turned his back on Steve, Eddie knew he’d made a mistake. He was too proud and too stubborn to correct it, but the sensation was immediate. The pain in his ankle was insistent, and then the pain in his armpits from the crutches began to bloom and spread. He started to stumble a few times, but managed to right himself. He could feel Steve behind him. Knew his boyfriend would catch him before he fell on the floor. Would do anything to help him. Not just now, but in any aspect of their lives.

If only he could just make himself ask for the help.

Once they got outside, he muttered, “Fuck,” under his breath. It was hot, and the car, while not parked that far away, was still a distance for someone with a broken ankle. He heard the jingling of Steve’s keys behind him and steeled himself for the trek across the parking lot.

He’s a sweaty, gasping mess by the time he gets to the passenger side door. Steve unlocks it as fast as he can and then Eddie is pulling the door open, awkwardly getting in. Both of them stay where they are before Steve wordlessly takes the crutches from Eddie’s hands and puts them in the backseat, closing the door once Eddie’s legs are in the car, and then moves around to drive them back to their apartment.

Their fourth floor apartment, in a building with no working elevator.

Once inside, Eddie looks up the stairs, turns his head to face Steve, and then back again at the stairs, sighing heavily. It’s something he does whenever he wants Steve’s attention. Any minute now, Steve will sigh in return and offer himself to help Eddie up the stairs.

Any minute now.

Eddie blinked and turned his head again to look back at Steve, who is making a big show of getting the mail from their little mailbox, scrutinizing his fingernails for any dirt that could possibly be there. Doing anything but look at Eddie, or rise to the unspoken request.

Because Eddie had made it perfectly clear that he didn’t want or need anyone’s help.

Eddie huffed out a short breath before he looked back up the stairs. Determination sets in, and he starts climbing, one step at a time. He’ll get up the stairs or die trying.

Well, not really, but it feels like it by the time he’s gotten up to the third floor. He leaned against the wall, red-faced and panting. His underarms felt like they’re on fire, and his non-broken ankle hurts like a bitch.

Steve, who had stayed a step behind him the whole time, just in case he started to fall or actually did ask for help, took a look at him, and wordlessly wrapped an arm around his waist. “Put your arm around me. Leave the crutches. I’ll come back for them.”

Eddie does as he’s told, feeling tears well in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he murmured as Steve helped him up the last bit of the stairs.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Steve said, pressing a kiss to his boyfriend’s temple. The action makes Eddie burst into tears. Steve quickly gets their apartment door open and pulls Eddie onto his lap on the armchair just inside the doorway. “Talk to me, please, Eddie.”

“I’m sorry- that…I’m sorry that I can’t ask for help,” Eddie stuttered, tears running freely down his cheeks. “I sh-should be able to handle it. I should know what to do and I’m stupid, stupid, stupid.” He is full-on sobbing now, all the shame of not being able to measure up to what his father expected of him at war with knowing that his father was wrong, and just how long it took him to come to that realization. “I feel like a b-burden all the time. Dropout, burnout, unsuccessful. You could…You could do so much better than me. Someone better who has their shit together.”

Steve kissed Eddie’s forehead, holding him as he poured everything out. He felt sadness and anger at odds inside of him. Sadness at how upset his boyfriend is, at the feelings of inadequacy he can hear through the raw emotion. Anger at how much his Dad fucked him up, and how the emotional damage is still there. When Eddie calmed down a little, Steve slid a hand into Eddie’s hair, lightly scratching his nails against his scalp. “I’ll say this as many times as I need to: you’re not a burden. Ever. I want to help you when you need it. I love you, and I’ll love you forever.” He felt Eddie ease against his body, still sniffling as he listened to Steve speak. “I don’t want anyone else. You’re my person, and I can’t imagine being without you for anything. There are guys who are more put together than both of us, but you’re who I want. I want to fall asleep next to you every night and wake up every morning with you. I want to see you in the kitchen, in the living room, in the car sitting next to me.” He can feel himself getting emotional again. “I want that now and when we’re old and grey with only six teeth between us.”

Eddie managed a small laugh, nuzzling into Steve’s neck. “If you need help with anything, you can ask me. It’s not weak to ask for help or to need help, my love. It makes you human, and fuck anyone who says otherwise.” He shifted to move Eddie so he can look at him in those coffee-colored eyes. “You are not weak. You’re strong. You’re Eddie Munson. You can do anything you put your mind to. And you have. I’m always in awe of you, and that you chose me to be with you. I’m nothing special, but you chose me and you make me feel like the most special person in the world.”

They’re both crying now, tasting salt tears as they kiss and comfort one another over the next ten minutes or more. They end up with Steve’s hands in Eddie’s hair and on the small of his back, and with Eddie’s face buried in Steve’s chest.

“Feeling any better?” Steve asked, rubbing his thumb against Eddie’s back.

“Kinda,” Eddie replied. “My body feels awful, and I’m sweaty as fuck from all the struggle-walking.”

“Let me take care of you, baby,” Steve said, his voice and tone sliding lower. “I’ll run the bath and we can sit in there together.” One of the perks of their apartment was that the bathtub was massive and easily fit both of them. “We need to wrap your cast in a plastic bag, though. It can’t get wet.”

“Okay,” Eddie murmured, melting into Steve even more if that was possible. He let himself be carried by Steve to the bathroom, his clothes taken off, and a plastic takeout bag with the words ‘Thank You’ on it in blue lettering and a smiley face underneath wrapped around his ankle.

“Bubbles, or no?” Steve asked as he turned the taps, getting the water running.

“No,” Eddie answered, watching him. “Just want to look down and see your hands on me, Stevie.”

Steve turned, a big smile on his face before he pulled Eddie in for a slow kiss. “Let me bring your crutches in and then I’ll come back in and join you.”

Within five minutes, he had done that and stripped as well. He turned the water off, steam rising into the air around them as he stepped into the tub. He held his hands out for Eddie. “Just the left foot,” he said. “You can drape the right one outside the tub.”

Eddie did as he was told, and soon, he was in the steamy water, Steve at his back with his strong arms wrapped around him. Eddie tilted his head to the left to rest just over Steve’s chest, his heart beating a familiar pattern.

“Thank you for loving me,” he said, voice low and quiet. He still felt as though he didn’t deserve it, but he was grateful for it now.

Steve kissed the back of his head and moved a hand to cup some water and run it over his chest. “You’re easy to love, Eddie. And I’ll never let you forget it.”

[yeslikethewizard]

【 all to myself, ch 4 update】

LINK: Chapter 4 - and i am wide awake FANDOM: The Scum Villain's Self Saving System RATING: M, full tags and content warning on A03 PAIRINGS: Shen Yuan | Shen Qingqiu/Luo Binghe, One sided SQQ's harem hopelessly in love with him

SUMMARY: After making it to Jin Lan City to aid his martial brothers in curing a strange plague, Shen Qingqiu stumbles his way directly into a curse of his own. The fates have chosen a life to tie to Shen Qingqiu’s own—and of course it would be tied to the early arriving protagonist! As the curse worsens, Shen Qingqiu finds that distance between him and Luo Binghe begins to freeze him slowly. Literally freeze, he is at risk for hypothermia for not being right next to the guy who probably wants to turn him into a stick!

Wait—what do you mean Shen Qingqiu will also lose the ability to lie!? That's an integral part of him not being unceremoniously sent back to the life where he’s already dead!

EXCERPT:

“I was given two ways to break the curse,” Shen Qingqiu says, and Shang Qinghua nods. “Obviously I want the one where we kill the demon who placed the curse on me in the first place.”

“Uh—that’s a red herring don’t kill the guy,” Shang Qinghua says nervously.

“...Excuse me?” Shen Qingqiu asks.

“Well—see. It was…uh. Created so that originally if you killed the person with the ring it would actually make the curse worse, that’d probably kill you so you don’t want to do that,” Shang Qinghua clears his throat. He flashes Shen Qingqiu a very nervous smile, then his eyes flick to Luo Binghe and back to Shen Qingqiu. “The uh. The real way to lift the curse is the… uh. Standard way. That the original person who made up the curse would have you lift a curse.”

Luo Binghe is not sure why Shang Qinghua is beating around the bush suddenly, but it is obnoxious. His Shizun stares at him with narrowed eyes for a moment, when Shang Qinghua clears his throat and nods his head at Luo Binghe. Then, as if this means something to Shen Qingqiu, he raises his brows. 

If Luo Binghe thought that his master’s face was briefly red before, it has nothing on his cheeks now. A stunning shade that would put most rouge to shame in all honesty. Shen Qingqiu sputters wordlessly for a few moments. Then, to Luo Binghe’s somewhat savage delight, Shizun picks up the bowl of melon seeds he’d given Shang Qinghua earlier and lobs it at his head with a loud cry of fury.

“OW! Hey!” Shang Qinghua yelps

“Be serious !” Shen Qingqiu snaps.

“I am serious, deadly serious bro!” Shang Qinghua almost wails the words. He lunges to clasp his arms around Shen Qingqiu in a way that traps both of the Qing Jing Peak Lord’s arms to his side. Shen Qingqiu squawks at him indignantly, and the two of them crash to the ground. Luo Binghe leaps to his feet, irritation sparking.

“Think of another way!” Shen Qingqiu squirms but Shang Qinghua is latched on fiercely. “You’re—ugh! The worst—hack… fucking. Hate…”

Shen Qingqiu grits his teeth and glowers. Shang Qinghua blinks up at him, looks over at Luo Binghe, and then back at Shen Qingqiu. Then, with a tone of genuine curiosity he asks, “Hey bro… what do you really thing about my writing?”

“Derivative horseshit, I hate that I love it,” Shen Qingqiu says. His mouth shuts and he glares.

“You love it?” Shang Qinghua is delighted, “I knew you didn’t hate it!”

“Yes I love it. Shut up ,” Shen Qingqiu seethes. Luo Binghe feels himself reaching the end of his patience. 

He… hates this. Hates that Shen Qingqiu is horsing around with this strange man. What had he called him earlier? His best friend. He didn’t think he had one of those,certainly not before the Alliance. Was it really so easy to make a friendship like this while Binghe was gone? While he was clawing his way through the muck, this man had weaseled his way into his Shizun’s life. This man that his Shizun couldn’t even really trust —and here he was, acting like himself in a way that Luo Binghe was only now seeing.

 “Binghe, go to Qing Jing Peak. This Master will join you there shortly, he needs to speak privately with your shishu.”

See? He already has Shen Qingqiu where he wants him. He’s already taken him away, Xin Mo’s hissing voice makes Luo Binghe draw the blade. Not even a cun from the sheathe, but enough for Shang Qinghua to pale significantly. Both him and Shen Qingqiu freeze. Silence stretches through the Leisure House, and demonic qi rolls off of Luo Binghe in waves. He is staring Shang Qinghua down, lips curling back from his teeth like an animal baring fangs.

A gentle hand startles him from his reverie, and he stares down at the hand gripping Xin Mo. Firmly, but gently, that hand pushes the blade back into the sheathe. He lifts his eyes and his shizun is looking at him, brows knitted in an expression of such open concern that it actually startles Luo Binghe for a moment.

[nymphaea-blue]

Love and Deepspace boys comforting you through stressful situations.

Info : 3.3k+ word count (about 700-900 per part), hurt/comfort, angst mixed with fluff, talks of periods (Zaynes part), mentions of throwing up (Zaynes part), mentions of harassment (Sylus part), hinted violence/murder (Sylus part).

Note : I had such a hard week I had to write about it, I hope some girlies here will relate because wow I would love to have Rafayel comfort me after I did in fact miss 3 of my trains two days ago 😭 Reqs are open!

Rafayel

The day was hard for you.

Ever since you met Rafayel, you thought your life would only be happy and it worked for a while, whenever he was with you, you were just so happy. No matter if something happened, if you messed something up, he was there to cheer you up.

But not today, since he had an exhibition to attend and one you sadly couldn't come to because of your work schedule. You were assigned a mission in a nearby city, it wasn't extremely far, about an hour away by train, but it was for multiple days which caused you to miss him, phone calls weren't enough.

Earlier that day, you were getting ready to leave to go to the station, but something came up so you had to take care of that first and later on you had to rush to catch your train but about halfway you realised it wasn't worth it. That's fine, just a minor setback, surely you will make it to the next train, right?

Wrong, just as you were getting ready to catch a taxi, you realised you didn't have your wallet so you had to run back to your hotel which took a while and you almost tripped while doing that since your suitcase was full but it didn't matter, you just wanted to make it home back to Rafayel. Well, it took way longer than you thought and you wouldn't be able to make it as you only had a few minutes and you weren't even at the station. That's okay, there is another train, you will just arrive a little later, or so you thought.

As it turned out, the next train was in two hours.

Whopping two hours.

And oh you cried, it was so stressful to miss the first few trains but now that you found it that you will have to sit two hours, in a city away from home, from your boyfriend, out in the cold, with a heavy bag - that was enough to make you break down.

In the middle of the street, you reached for your phone with a shaky hand and pressed the call button. It rang a few times and you felt so bad for interrupting him, because it was his day, but you had no idea what else to do.

He picked it up after a few moments.

“Oh hey cutie! It's so good to hear you, it's boring here without you, you know. What's up?”

You wanted to answer but hearing his cheerful voice somehow made you cry even more and you started sobbing. Clearly, he heard.

“.. Woah, are you crying? What happened? Are you hurt?”

“N-no, it's not that Rafayel…”

“What is it then, talk to me. I'll make you all feel better.”

“It's just… I missed the last few of my trains and now I have to wait two hours.. I'm so so sorry, I tried to make it, but then my coworkers needed something last minute, then later on I forgot a wallet and now it turns out the next train is in damn two hours and I don't know what to do because it's freezing cold, I'm all alone and it's getting dark and I'm scared.” You just sobbed out into the phone all your thoughts as you tightly gripped onto your bag as you did your best to hold yourself upright.

There was silence on the line for a moment as he was hearing you out and processing the information you gave him, then he finally answered.

“Don’t apologize, it happens sometimes cutie. Where are you right now?” Rafayel asked, surprisingly calm as he did his best to soothe you.

“At the train station.. I should be back home in 3 hours. I'm so sorry, I thought I would make it back home before your exhibition ends so I would be able to surprise you or perhaps attend the ending of it but I messed up..”

“Okay, don't apologize, it happens and I don't blame you, you know that right? Stay where you are, transport will be there soon enough.”

“Transport..? What do you mean?”

“I'm going to pick you up, duh. You didn't think I would let you sit out there for two hours, right?”

“No you can't do that, you have your exhibition to attend. I'll do fine on my own, really-” He cut you off. You weren't sure what you were expecting but surely it wasn't that he would pick you up, the city was almost an hour away by car.

“Yeah yeah, an important exhibition or something. Thomas can handle the rest, I sat there for longer than usual anyways, but I can't just sit here and do nothing while my lovely partner sits somewhere and is clearly uncomfortable.”

“You just hang on tight sweetheart, alright? I will be there soon, why don't you stay with me on the line while I drive so you will feel more safe, hm?” He added and you can hear the faint sounds of an engine starting from the other side of the line. He really did just decide to pick you up.

“Yeah, that will be perfect.. thank you Rafayel.” You wiped some of your tears, feeling better now after hearing his reassurance

“No problem. And hey,”

“Hm?”

“You are pretty strong, miss bodyguard, but it's no shame to let some of those tears fall sometimes, yeah?”

Zayne

You were currently crying in Zaynes bedroom as you felt another cramp in your abdomen. It hurt, it hurt so much but worse of all, you weren't expecting your period, it came early so you had to come back from work because you had no pads and practically bled through your hunters uniform, how embarrassing…

For some reason, this period was extremely painful for you. You couldn't eat because you felt nauseous, you had terrible mood swings to the point of overthinking everything, you felt dizzy whenever you moved and you were craving chocolate but you ran out. You ran out of all your supplies actually, which was just great. That was why you were at Zaynes house, he always had things stocked for you and you had the keys to it, so you sometimes went there when you needed comfort, like now.

So, with no one else to call, you decided to reach out to one person you were sure would help you when you felt like you were dying:

Zayne, your boyfriend and a doctor.

“Hello sweetheart, I just finished a surgery, is everything alright?” Your boyfriend asked and it was such a relief to hear his voice.

“No, not really… I feel really bad, Zayne. When do you get off from work?” You asked, trying not to sound desperate and to not make him worry, you felt like crying but you didn't want him to rush out of his job just to help you.

“My shift ends in about 3 hours, but what’s wrong? I can be home quicker if you need me.”

“... It's alright then, it's nothing serious, I can wait.” You tried your best to keep your voice stable as you curled into yourself more at the feeling of another cramp.

Clearly, it didn't work.

After a few moments of silence, Zayne spoke up again.

“I will be home in about 40 minutes. Try to stay calm for now, okay?” He quickly let you know and hung up before you even had the chance to tell him not to.

While you waited for him, you just lied on the bed, the heating bottle doing barely anything at this point as you sobbed at the discomfort. You felt terrible that he was rushing out of his very serious job just to help you, during something as silly as your period, you could handle it on your own after all.

After about 40 minutes, right as expected, he came back home.

“Here you are, I was so worried. What's wrong?” Zayne quickly came up to you and tilted your head gently to look you in the eyes, to try and spot any visible injury on your body and see how you were feeling.

You wanted to answer, you really did, but all that came out were sobs, pitiful, loud, sobs. He really did come home from the hospital just to help you, because he thought that you were seriously injured. He was an amazing boyfriend, you didn't deserve him for calling him for something like this.

“Hey, hey it's alright now. I'm here, calm down. Breathe in and out for me, okay?” He did his best to wipe away the tears coming down your cheeks and help you calm down, he hugged you tight and just held you in his arms until he felt you calm down slightly.

“Tell me what's wrong. I'll help you right away but I need to know what to do. I can't bear to see you cry like that..”

“I'm so so sorry, Zayne… I'm just on period, it came early and it's so goddamn painful for some reason, I was throwing up after everything I ate, I feel dizzy and overall awful and I didn't know what to do so I called you.. and now you are here, handling something stupid instead of saving someone's life, I'm sorry..” You sobbed into his shoulder as he held onto you so tightly as if you would disappear, you really hoped he would forgive you.

He was stunned for a moment, did he hear you right? You were apologising to him for asking for help? While you were sick? And he was a doctor?

Slowly and gently he pulled away from you, just to look you in the eyes as you were still sobbing.

“My love, you know you never need to feel sorry for that, right? I would drop everything even if I was in the middle of surgery if something ever happened to you.” He comforted you softly, patting your head and waving his hand through your hair in an effort to calm you down.

When your sobbing became soft crying instead, he decided to treat you. Zayne went ahead and found some painkillers, ones that should help for period pain and he also brewed some tea for you. After taking the medication, he sat next to you while you laid down on the bed, still all curled up.

“How do you feel? Are your symptoms getting better?” He asked, his voice so tender yet professional and you couldn't help but laugh at that.

“Yes, I feel much better, thanks to you Dr. Zayne.”

“Good, that's what I was hoping to hear. After your nausea goes down, I will make you something light to eat and then I can order some of those fancy desserts you like. How about that? You deserve it after such a hard day.”

Xavier

Okay, everything should be ready. Your briefcase is packed, all the documents are ready, your outfit is perfect and you even managed to wake up early to do some makeup and eat a healthy breakfast, what an amazing start to your day! Well, we won't talk about the fact you spilled coffee on your white shirt and had to change, but it worked out anyways.

You were very nervous, but also hopeful since so far everything was going almost exactly how it should be. Jenna was counting on you that day to deliver a presentation in front of the media about Linkons safety and actions your department would implement in the near future to improve even more and keep Wanderers away. It was a big deal, one that could perhaps also result in you getting a raise or a promotion so you wanted to do good.

As you were on the commute, which was of course packed, you were texting with your partner and boyfriend - Xavier. You woke up earlier than him to prepare so he was still at home as he didn't start his shift for a few more hours, despite that he still woke up early to chat with you and keep your nerves at bay.

During the ride, it was all fine at first but then at the next station even more people rushed in and the space was so tight, you could barely breathe. It was extremely uncomfortable as everyone was pressed against you and it was loud, very loud, too loud to even hear your thoughts. And of course, the commute had some issues, so you were stuck in one place for about 10 minutes.

After a very uncomfortable ride to work, you finally showed up, running quite late but you still had enough time to prepare so it was fine. You sat at your desk to go over the presentation when you realised. You forgot to bring the damn pendrive from home. You thought you saved it on your laptop but no, you searched for it and it wasn't anywhere and Jenna was about to come in and probably ask you about it!

You were ready to cry, honestly. You tried to be positive, not let everything bug you but you were stressed because you worked on the presentation for multiple days now and you were only about 10 minutes away from presenting it in front of the media but you didn't have it!

But there was still hope. You called your boyfriend who was probably napping since he didn't respond to your last text message that you sent him while you were still on your way to work, but hopefully he wouldn't be mad that you woke him up.

“Hm? Are you at work already? What's wrong?” He muttered sleepily.

“Xavier are you still at home?”

“Yes, did you forget something?”

“.. How did you know?”

“Just figured. You were nervous about this, it's only natural for someone to forget something during such a stressful day.”

“Yes, I don't have my pendrive… Could you perhaps get it from my apartment and deliver it to me, please? I'm literally about to present it in a few minutes, I can't mess this up!” You hoped he would be able to do this for you, you were almost crying but you didn't want to ruin your makeup so you held back and you guessed that he heard it.

“Okay calm down starlight. I will be there in a few moments, so take a deep breath, and you will do great. I know it. So don't stress so much and keep that wonderful smile on your face when you present, I will be there in the crowd to cheer you up.

And Xavier did come, in only two minutes he teleported to work with your pendrive and also some of your makeup to fix you up after crying. And he kept his word because he was there, in the crowd, right behind the cameras to keep your spirits up during your presentation. Afterwards, the two of you went to a hot pot spot to celebrate the successful presentation and your pay raise.

Sylus

After work, you decided to go have some fun in the nearby mall. You were working hard lately, so why not reward yourself a little bit?

There was a new movie coming out, you originally wanted to go see it with Sylus but he sadly had some work to do, so you decided to go on your own. It was amazing and you loved it, you had great seats right at the centre and there weren't many ads at the beginning so it felt like it was going to be perfect. However, somewhere in the middle of the film, you noticed two guys that were sitting next to you, they kept laughing and looking over at you, but you didn't think much of it.

After the movie you went to do some shopping. You entered one of your favourite stores and started browsing, there were a few cute things so you picked them and went to another aisle. As you walked around the store, you saw the same guys that sat next to you during the movie, but perhaps it was just a coincidence so you brushed it off. The shop had clothes for males as well after all so it was nothing suspicious, Sylus bought clothes there sometimes whenever he went shopping with you.

After you made your choice, you went ahead and paid at the till. The same two guys stood right behind you and they looked over you and your choice of clothes. There were some shoes, shirts and a few dresses, because who doesn't love a good shopping trip to spice up their wardrobe? Well, they looked at you in a way that you didn't really like, so you just swiped the black card and took your things neatly packed in bags before storming out.

It was fine, you convinced yourself. They perhaps were there looking for something. Maybe they just thought you looked familiar. Maybe they were your coworkers that you didn't recognise.

No matter, you decided to go to a nearby store to buy some makeup that you were running low on. As you peacefully browsed through the isles of products, searching for some face masks and skincare products for you and your boyfriend to enjoy later, you spotted them again. This time, however, they decided to talk to you.

“Hey, I have a question.” One guy dared to say, you decided to try and ignore him, despite how scared you were. What was their business with you? Normally you would know how to handle this but well, you were in public, so you couldn't just get rid of them as much as you wanted to.

“Did you hear me?”

“Are you single, perhaps? Or were all those beautiful clothes for some lame ass boyfriend?” The second man asked.

“Yeah, we can treat you much better, you know. Why don't you give us a show in those clothes?

And you were crying, at that point. Who the hell were these guys? Why were they doing that? And the worst part? The store was packed, so it was loud and no one else heard or paid attention to what was going on in the corner you were in.

Luckily though, someone appeared at the right moment.

It all happened quite quickly, you were crying and shaking while trying your best to ignore the guys or get away and the next moment, a certain black and red mist pulled you closer to the side of your hero, Sylus.

“I'm sure you guys would love to have a show, but that sight is only reserved for me.” He said in his usual tone yet you could see the daggers in his gaze at the guys while they stared in shock. You, however, were very happy to see him as suddenly all your worries disappeared and you hugged him tightly.

“There you are, sweetie. How are you doing? Did you have fun on your spa day?” He asked in a soft tone as his attention switched to you and he lifted your head to see how you were holding up.

“Yeah, I'm all better now… Thank you, Sy.” You smiled warmly at him as you wiped the rest of your tears.

“Wait… where are the guys that were here a minute ago?-” You asked after you looked back in the direction of where the two men stood earlier, but you saw nothing.

“Oh don't worry about it. Why don't we finish up here and then get something nice to eat, hm?”

“For the next time, if someone even dares to do this, just call me. I will always pick up if it's from you and take care of any of those pests that bother you.”

Sure enough, you never found out what happened to them but all you know is Sylus probably didn't let them get away with it alive. He took you to a fancy place to eat afterwards and you stayed the night at his place.

[kooggukk]

after hours | jjk

summary. one night, after a long rehearsal, jungkook lingers in the makeup room.

pairing: idol!jungkook x makeupartist!reader

contains: smut, unprotected sex (cum on stomach)

note: hey guys, i don have much experience writing smut, but we could say i tried my best lol nways enjoy :)

word count: 2.2k

the room was quiet, the loudness of the city could be barely be audible, muffled by the large window as you packed away your brushes for the night. it was past midnight, the clock close to hitting 1 am. the rest of the staffs have left long ago, leaving you alone. you enjoyed the calmness and loneliness after a long day. almost like it gave you a moment to breathe, to come down from the constant rush of keeping up with bts’s eternal busy schedule.

just when you packed everything away and was ready to leave, the door slightly creaked open. you looked up quickly, your heartbeat slowed down when you noticed jungkook poking his head in.

“you still here?” he asked, his voice was low and rough, his throat must have gone dry from all the practice.

he leaned against the doorframe, his hair sweaty, the sleeves of his black hoodie were pushed up enough to reveal the tattoos on his skin. definitely that’s the hottest part on his body.

“gotta clean up after your mess,” you teased with a smile, his eyes glanced to the desk. makeup smudged over it, dirty tissues, q-tips, some brushes that you didn’t use much anymore were scattered all over it.

he chuckled and stepped inside the room finally, he closed the door behind himself. you heard the click of the lock that made your stomach flip. the room felt more smaller by now, more.. intimate you could say.

“you sure that’s all?” his tone was light, almost playful, but when he turned around to look at you, there was something in his eyes — a glint, hinted at the unspoken tension that had been lingering between the two of you for weeks now.

you raised an eyebrow, “what else would i be here for?”

a faint smirk got on his lips and he started walking towards you, painfully slowly.

you gulped, his eyes dropped down to your neck for a second, then back to your face. when he got to you, he didn’t mutter a single word and just plopped down on the makeup chair.

you frowned, obviously you weren’t going to do his makeup at this hour. your eyes followed his hand, smudging the makeup from the table onto his finger, which he smeared on the black sweatpants he wore, on his crotch.

“think you missed a spot?” he looked up at you with desire in his eyes, his tone playful. you took a deep breath, “what?” you muttered with big eyes that stared right back at him, glancing between his eyes and the spot on his pants.

fuck, you could see the shape of it, the makeup matched his skin color, the curiosity of how it looked like made you go feral, all you wanted to do right now is fuck him till you were the one crying, till the shape of his cock was carved into your insides.

the room felt heavy, the air thick with something you couldn't quite place. you walked over to him, his eyes following your every step. you tried to ignore the way your heart sped up under his stare.

you grabbed a wet tissue from the desk, he stood up behind you, his chest pressed against your back. “tell me you feel this too,”

your breath caught in your throat as his words hung in the air between you, thick and heavy. you tried to laugh it off, but your heart betrayed you, thudding loudly in your chest as if it wanted to answer for you. his gaze didn’t waver, dark eyes searching your face through the mirror, waiting for a reaction.

you cleared your throat as you focused on the tissue again, wiping the table but the trembling in your hands exposed you.

“feel what?” your voice was quieter than you intended to, you didn’t dare to look up, knowing you’d be faced with his serious, desire full eyes.

“this, ___.” he sighed and he sneaked his hands on your hips, holding you tightly. your eyes closed, the contact was electric, sending a shiver down your spine.

his skin felt like burning even through the layers of clothes. “there’s this-“ he stopped for a second, frustration started to build up in him.

“this thing, that i don’t know where to put.” you froze, his hands moving up your sides, he stopped at under your breasts. “every time we’re in the same room, i can’t help but to fantasize about you.”

“tell me,” he whispered, his hands went back down, this time on your stomach, his movements stopped at the top of your jeans.

“tell me you feel it too,” he pressed his body closer again, his crotch poked at your ass, his face in the crook of your neck. his eyes focused on you through the mirror. “please,” he begged and you felt your heart pounding in your chest.

yes! you’d felt it too, — every time he sat down to get his makeup done by you, whenever he opened his eyes to look up at you, every brush of your fingers against his skin, every lingering glances shared across the room.

but for fuck’s sake, you’re his makeup artist! nothing more. you thought maybe he’s just being friendly, protective. had no idea his pretty mind was filled with dirty thoughts about you, but the good way.

he was curious how you looked when you were receiving pleasure, especially from him. he dreamt about you beneath him, wishing he could take you right then and there, in the middle of the room with everyone else around.

he wouldn’t have minded, wanted to show everyone it’s him who you’re fucking, it’s him who makes you moan, who makes you scream and cry out his name, not nobody else.

with a shaky breath you finally looked up, your eyes met his in the mirror. “i do,” your hand hovered on his, resting on your stomach. his lips curved into a small, knowing smile. with a swift move he turned you around, body still closer to each other than ever.

his arms slid from your waist, up your arm until he reached the side of your neck. his touch was soft, careful, but the heat from his skin made your body ache with anticipation.

he leaned in, nose touching yours. you were going insane, dizzy from just the thought of what’s about to happen between the two of you. your hands found their way to his hair, tugging lightly.

you don’t know who moved first, — but you both attacked each other’s lips hungrily, your teeth crashed together. a moan left his mouth at the feeling of your lips on his, the vibration made you press your thighs together.

all the pent-up desire, all the unspoken words between you, came rushing to the surface. his hand tightened on your neck, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, desperate.

he pulled away, a string of saliva between your lips. both of your breathing heavy, chests moving fast.

“you have no idea how many times i’ve imagined this,” he whispered with a smile. one of his hand slid from your neck down to your waist, gripping you firmly as he backed up and sat down on the chair behind him, guiding you down onto his lap.

your forehead was resting against his, “we shouldn’t..” you whispered, his hand moved up to caress your skin and your body betrayed you, leaning into his touch.

his thumb brushed against your lip, “maybe,” he murmured, his eyes locked on yours. “but it feels too good.”

he captured your lips again, every move of his mouth sent waves of electricity through you. his hands roamed your body, — your sides, your hips, your back and then finally, his hands slid down to your ass, gripping your cheeks with his huge hands.

you sighed in the kiss, he pulled you even more closer, your heat brushed against his crotch. you melted into him, you’ve completely lost control over your body.

he pulled away and a hiss left his mouth when you moved your hips as you slowly grinded on him.

his eyes locked with yours, his bottom lip between his teeth while yours was slightly open. his hands gripped your hips, he helped you move, a little bit faster.

“shit,” he breathed out, his head thrown back in pleasure. your eyes dropped to his neck, veins popped, sweat dripping. you leaned down to plant soft kisses on his skin, a low groan left his lips as he felt yours, nibbling and sucking on his skin.

your hips slowed down, your body grew tired. he lifted his head back only to be met with the scene of you pulling your shirt off over your head.

his eyes fell to your breasts, which were still hidden from his eyes with your black bra. he buried his face in your chest, kissing on the top of your breasts while his hand carefully unclasped your bra.

it slid down your shoulders, all the way to where your body met his. he threw the unneeded clothing away, his palms massaging your breasts.

“so pretty,” he whispered and you looked down. “i think they’re small,” he chuckled at your confession.

he shook his head with a smile, “no, they’re just perfect.” he gave you no time to respond as his lips captured your perky left nipple. he gently slapped the other, massaging it after.

your breath hitched, he sucked and bit on your nipple, pulling away with a smack of his lips. he gave the same attention to your other one, your hips once again grinded against his already hard bulge in his pants.

he pulled away from your chest, his eyes looking up at you with hunger. his fingers gripped your jeans, “let’s take this off, yeah?”

you got up from his lap, he watched you strip the remaining clothes that hid the rest of your body. he took off his clothes himself too, his hand reached out for you to grab.

he pulled you towards him again, helping you sit down on his lap once more.

“are you sure?” he asked as you sat there, skin to skin. you eagerly nodded, you wanted this more than anything, just like him.

“yes,” you moved, your core brushed against his cock. “please,” you purred, he bit back a moan at the feeling of your bare pussy.

he decided to not waste any time with fingering you first, he knew you needed to get stretched and it’s gonna burn like hell. he put his stupid desire in the first place, but he realized that too late.

with a hand holding his dick and the other guiding your waist, you slowly sank down on him. your body stiffened, you let your head fall down to his chest, your forehead resting against him.

he knitted his eyebrows together, your walls clenching around him made it so hard for him to fully fill you up.

he caressed your back, “you need to relax,” he whispered and planted a kiss on top of your head. his hand sneaked to your core, his finger rubbed your clit in a circular motion.

he helped you relax your muscles, immediately slipping inside of you easily. a quiet moan left your mouth, you stayed like that for a while. he wanted you to be okay, he cares about you.

“all good?” he asked, your face still in his chest. you nodded, he moved beneath you, he wanted to fuck you like crazy but he put you first, though it was getting hard for him to control his body.

you suddenly rolled your hips, leaving him with an open mouth. “fuck, ___,” he husked, his grip on your waist was firm.

you looked up at him, you rode his dick with all your energy. the room was filled with your low moans and your skin meeting, both of your bodies sweaty and hot.

you got tired, your pace turned slower and your breathing got heavy. unlike him, he’s a singer, so his stamina is far more better than yours.

he slightly lifted you up at your waist, he took over the control now. he pounded into you from beneath, your body arched and you turned into a moaning mess.

you were never that loud in bed, your moans has always been quiet and soft. jungkook got to see a side of you that he never wanted to forget.

he never wants to forget how your brows knitted together, how your mouth fell agape and eyes shut from the pleasure that he was giving you.

he felt you clench around him, his head was thrown back again. he let out a low grunt as he fastened his pace, hitting every right spot. your body tensed, your walls tight around him which made him hiss.

he felt you release around his cock as he fucked you through it, “almost there,” he heavily breathed out, trying to reach his own orgasm too.

he pulled out and pumped himself as he released his cum on your stomach, his eyes were tightly shut, letting every drop of him on your skin.

[writeriguess]

Hey darling! Lovely to see you back, your writings were a part of my daily routine as it serves me some comfort for the day! 😌💞

Was wondering if I may request a katsuki bakugou x reader (long term relationship) where the relationship kinda hit a plateau and everything irritated him a lot, however, reader takes in all the (uncalled and unnecessary) mean words said by katsuki whilst trying not to get mean with him either until one day, reader just silently cried and he noticed it, just pause and reflected on his actions and how he has been treating reader lately (ending with some comfort if possible, thank you!)

I noticed you do titles for your writings, if I may suggest; “Haven’t I given enough?” Of course, if you have an alternate title better suited for this, by all means do use it! ☺️

Haven’t I Given Enough?

The days had blurred into routine. Wake up, train, eat, work, sleep—repeat. Somewhere along the way, your relationship with Katsuki had settled into a monotonous rhythm, neither moving forward nor back. It wasn’t like you weren’t happy. You loved him, and you knew he loved you. But lately… lately, everything seemed to set him off.

“The hell are you staring at?” he snapped one evening as you looked at him across the dinner table.

You blinked, startled. “Nothing, I was just—”

“Tch. Then quit lookin’ at me like I did somethin’ wrong.” He shoved a bite of food into his mouth aggressively, shoulders tense.

You exhaled softly, looking down at your own plate. He had been like this for weeks—short-tempered, irritable, lashing out over the smallest things. You had chalked it up to stress. He had always been intense, but this was different.

At first, you tried to brush it off, meet his frustration with patience. You told yourself he wasn’t truly mad at you, just taking his exhaustion out on the person closest to him. But no matter how much understanding you offered, his words still cut.

“Can you stop hovering? I can do my own shit.”

“Damn it, Y/N, do you ever stop talking?”

“Fuck’s sake, do you have to be so damn sensitive about everything?”

Each one was a tiny wound, adding up until they felt like bruises beneath your skin. You swallowed the hurt each time, refusing to snap back, even when his words stung. But tonight, as you sat across from him in silence, something inside you cracked.

You didn’t even realize the tears had started falling until you saw his gaze shift, his chewing slowing as his eyes locked onto your face.

You weren’t sobbing, weren’t making a sound—just sitting there, staring at your untouched plate, tears slipping down your cheeks no matter how much you willed them to stop.

For the first time in weeks, the air between you stilled.

“…The fuck,” Katsuki muttered, his voice quiet, almost bewildered. His brows furrowed, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “Are you… cryin’?”

You pressed your lips together, hating how weak you must have looked. You shook your head slightly, but another tear slipped free, betraying you.

Katsuki put his fork down with a sharp clatter. You didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

And that was when it hit him.

The way you just sat there, silent, shoulders slightly hunched—not arguing back, not calling him out, not pushing him away—just… taking it. The weight of every harsh word, every frustrated sigh, every unfair remark.

His stomach twisted.

“…Shit.”

He ran a rough hand through his hair, guilt crawling up his throat. When the hell had he become this person? The kind who made you cry? The kind who took his bad days out on the one person who never deserved it?

His chair scraped against the floor as he pushed back from the table. You stiffened slightly when he moved, but before you could say anything, Katsuki was kneeling beside your seat, one of his calloused hands reaching up to cup your cheek.

“…Baby.” His voice was softer now, strained with something raw. “I’m sorry.”

You closed your eyes at the warmth of his palm, inhaling shakily. He had said a lot of mean things lately, but this—this felt genuine.

“I didn’t mean to…” Katsuki swallowed hard, his thumb brushing a stray tear away. “Didn’t mean to be a fuckin’ asshole. I just—” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with me lately. Work’s been… I dunno, shit. But that’s no excuse. You—” His grip on your cheek tightened, just slightly, like he needed you to hear him. “You don’t deserve that. Any of it.”

Your lip trembled. You wanted to say it was okay, that you understood, but the truth was… it hurt.

“…I know you don’t mean to,” you whispered, finally speaking, voice fragile. “But it still hurts, Katsuki.”

The way his whole body tensed at your words was almost heartbreaking. Like he hadn’t fully realized just how much he had been hurting you.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut for a second before meeting your gaze again. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I—” He hesitated, frustration flickering in his eyes—not at you, but at himself. “I love you,” he said, voice firm but filled with something vulnerable. “I don’t say it enough, but I do. And I swear, I’ll do better.”

A shaky breath left your lips, the tension in your chest easing slightly. Slowly, you reached up, covering his hand with yours.

“…I love you too,” you murmured, voice thick. “Just… don’t push me away like that again.”

His throat bobbed as he nodded. “Yeah. I won’t.”

And for the first time in weeks, Katsuki didn’t just hear you—he listened.

[lildiva00]

last part of virgin!Choso<3 (im gonna write more for him tho, just in other scenarios!!) other parts here: part 1 part 2 part 4

.⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅.

Virgin Choso who stands on his small balcony, looking over the city, a grey cloud creeping out between his lips.

Choso had taken up smoking. He’d asked Leiri about it when he’d seen her doing it, and she’d told him it helped her to relax. he’d bought a pack right after that. The first couple of times he’d coughed the smoke out. But now he does it smoothly, inhaling and exhaling the smoke with no problem. It makes him feel at ease even just for a moment, and lord knows he needs it right now. Humans are fucking weird he thinks, they’d jepordize their health for a little break from their troubles. Guess that doesnt sound so ridiculous now that he thinks about it. Either way hes a human now too, or a half one atleast.

he squeezes the cigarette into an ashtray and looks at the time when he hears the door bell ringing. Its late and you’re here.

he hears you running up the stairs, and when you get to the top you run to him, giving him a soft hug. His heart keens.

“hi Choso!” you smile and let go of him, he immediately misses the feel of you, “hey,” he mumbles.

“why do you smell like cigerattes?” you huff and your nose crickles. cute.

he raises his shoulders.

“i cant believe it…who taught u to do that huh?” you make a disappointed face and fold your arms, tapping your foot on the floor. And he knows youre just joking, you and Yuji have been using enough sarcasm around him for him to have a pretty good understanding of it.

“Leiri,” he shrugs.

“of course…that hag,” you grin. And you look so fucking adorable, in your little outfit, and the way you look when you smile makes him weak. He has your bag ready on the couch, he had washed your panties before putting everything back into it. But he can’t think about that now, or he’ll turn bright red.

he sighs “i made dinner,” he says, “if you’re hungry,” you stop infront of him and you almost look like youre gonna cry from happiness. “im starving,” you say quickly, “what did you make?”

He’d made rice bowls for you. your favourite. And you eat like a girl who’d gotten her first meal in months. Happily humming while eating your food.

Rather than focusing on eating his own bowl, he thinks about eating every meal of the day with you, sitting across from him.

when you’re done you put your plate in the sink and you yawn, you look adorable when you yawn, you look adorable when you do anything.

you turn around, “Choso?”

his heart skips a beat. he nods.

“it’s really late and um…dark outside and i don’t really want to walk home alone,” you look away, are you….blushing?

“is it okay if i stay here for the night?”

And hes heard the stories. About what happens to pretty girls when they’re alone at night and they don’t see the stranger walking behind them. And his fist clenches at the thought of someone being mean to you. He’s stronger than any human. he’d crush their fucking skull.

“you can stay,” he says quickly, a little too eagerly he realises. And you smile, “give me your plate,” you say, looking greatful that he let you stay, unknowing of the fact that he’d do just about anything if it meant your safety, or your happiness.

You start washing the dishes in his tiny kitchen, and when Choso tries insisting that he wants to help, you splash a bit of water on him. And you laugh so sweetly, when he jumps a little, trying not to get hit.

When youre done washing up, You both stand in silence for a while. For some reason its not as akward as it sounds.

“i will sleep on the couch,” he says,

“no Choso…id feel bad, you sleep in your bed,” you mumble.

You both argue like that for a while, and youre not letting up. stubborn little human.

you both get quiet for a moment.

“how big is your bed?”

“Queen size,”

“so why dont we just…sleep in it together?”

youre blushing slightly again. it must be his imagination.

And then he thinks about it. Friends sleep in the same bed sometimes right? you dont mean anything by it, he thinks, its just you being polite.

“i guess…we could do that yes,” he agrees.

you smile and nod, “okay,”

Choso excuses himself to go to the bathroom then, telling you to go ahead and get ready for bed.

He looks at himself in the mirror. He takes out his buns, his hair falling down to his shoulders. His eyes are dark and sunken. He looks dead he thinks. He looks down, “behave,” he says quietly, mostly to his heart, but also his dick.

he buries his head in his hands And He realizes he cant, he realizes the second he’s gonna look at you in his bed, he won’t be able to stop himself. to stop himself from confessing everything he feels, everything he’s done. that he thinks about you all the time, that you drive him insane, that he stole your pretty panties and came in his hand from the smell of your wet cunt.

When he rounds the corner of his bedroom, you’re sitting patiently on the edge of his bed, waiting for him.

“i am going to sleep on the couch, i don’t think this is a good idea,” he says it quickly, before he changes his mind, before its too late to go back.

you open your mouth to speak, hesitating a little.

“is it because of what yuji told me?”

his brain goes quiet. “what?”

“that you…that you like me?”

fuck. its over. he sighs angrily. that little fucki-

you stand and walk to him.

and when you put your hand on his chest, for a moment he forgets why hes mad, he forgets who he is and what year hes in. all he sees is you. And how close you are all of a sudden. and how youre leaning in, standing on your tippy toes, pressing your soft lips to his, in a short gentle kiss. His world stops for a moment.

And when he regains his senses, his instincts take over and he kisses you back ferociously, it’s sloppy and uncoordinated, but neither of you seem to care.

You walk backwards onto his bed, and you push him down so he’s sitting on the edge. He looks at you like a puppy dog, and his cheeks are flushed red.

When you sit down in his lap his dick twitches in his pants.

“i- i didnt think you…,” he stutters. he doesn’t really believe what’s happening.

“well i do,” you say, while cupping his face in your hands. “a lot,”

“can i…” he needs it he needs it he needs it, “can i eat your pussy?” he mumbles it quietly.

your eyes widen. fuck, he shouldn’t have said that, it was way too fast, you were just kissing.

“oh…uh okay,”

fuck. yes.

he lifts you up from his lap, and you skriek a little from surprise. He puts you down in a chair in the corner of his bedroom.

he gets on his knees infront of you and speaks quietly,

“i…im sorry i,” he sniffles a little, he’s so overwhelmed. And you’re letting him taste you.

you lean down and give him a kiss, biting your lip slightly.

“its okay…we can talk later, if you need it i’ll give it to you okay?”

And fuck he almost cries, and he buries his face in your lap. You shush him a little, caressing his hair. Hes hugging your legs.

He lifts his head, and you start unbuttoning your pants. Slowly sliding them down your hips as they fall to the floor. You spread your legs and he whimpers. Your panties are pink this time, and theres a big wet spot on them. And he doesn’t spare a second, he dives his head into your cunt, rubbing his face in it and licking at the wet spot desperately. you moan his name softly, and he cant help but grind his hard cock against the leg of the chair. Hes pathetic but he doesnt care, he wants you to feel good, he wants to make you cum on his face. He groans into your weeping pussy as he thinks about you cumming for him.

He pulls away a little, silently begging you to remove your panties. He wants to see your pussy so bad. His pussy.

You slide down your panties to reveal your soaked cunt. Choso almost growls. He looks up at you, asking for permission to keep going. you nod, your eyes half lidded. Spoiled little princess, he thinks, and thats exactly how hes going to treat you from now on.

he leans in again, kissing your pussy and it makes a wet sound. He licks his lips and groans deeply at your taste. He starts lapping at your cunt like a dehydrated puppy. He’s making out with your pussy now, swiping his tongue all over. You can tell he’s inexperienced, but it doesn’t matter, he’s doing such a good job.

you feel so good, his tongue is too much, its all too much. You love him so much. And you cum unexpectedly, crying out his name, begging him to keep going and he whines. You thrash around and Choso keeps you steady, his strong hands grasping your hips.

After youre done he keeps licking up your cum, making sure youre cleaned.

“Choso…stop, too much,” you say softly.

He pulls away.

His face is covered in your juices, dripping all the way down his neck. And he looks so happy. He stands up, like its on instinct. He needs to hold you.

He grabs you into his arms and plop down onto the bed, with you on his chest. He squeezes you into him, kissing your hair while you slide your panties on again.

“mine,” he says softly. youre his now.

You look up at him, searching his eyes, “Choso i wanna um…you know,” you gesture to his crotch. you want to make him feel good too.

but he looks away shyly. its embarrassing and pathetic, “i um..,” he sits up with you in his lap.

He doesnt feel hard under you anymore. And then it clicks.

“oh my god did you…”

he blushes furiously and nods, “its embarrassing,” he had cum in his pants the second he put his face in your bare pussy.

“no! no…it’s really…hot,” you reason and he looks less embarrassed. He looks into your eyes then, looks at your pretty little face and he already knows he wants you to be his forever.

“do you want to be my girlfriend?” he asks nervously.

you giggle and nod eagerly, jumping on him, wrapping your arms around him and nuzzling into his neck.

hes the luckiest man in the world he thinks. And you both fall asleep, you laying on his chest.

.⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅.

guys they didn’t actually fuck and i’m SORRY

now….part 4?? hey!!! HEY OKAY IM SORRY!! comment if yall want more ill do a lil short one where buddy ACTUALLY looses his virginity.

taglist:

@iqzo @multy-fandom-lover

[moonstruckme]

Hey Mae, you wrote a Spencer smut blurb a while ago about him helping reader speak up in the bedroom and at the end it mentions him using his handcuffs on reader. Just wondering if you would write a followup to that heheh 🌚

Thank you for requesting babe ;)

cw: smut mdni, bondage, slighttttt dom spencer but not really it's a collaborative effort haha

Spencer Reid x afab!reader ♡ 652 words

You make an involuntary whimpering sound. 

Spencer lifts his head to look at you. “You okay?” 

“Y…yeah.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Very sure.” 

Your boyfriend’s look softens. “Okay. Try not to sound so distressed, please? It makes me think you’re not having fun.” 

“Sorry.” You want to tell him that you’re not having fun, but you are, really. The bite of metal into your wrists is a welcome, if frustrating, restraint. 

“You don’t have to be sorry, sweetheart,” Spencer assures you, voice turning slow as he lowers his lips back to your shoulder. The brush of his knuckles against your inner thigh is enough to make another whimper rise in your throat. 

The handcuffs were your idea. You don’t think bringing work into the bedroom would have ever crossed Spencer’s mind, but your stomach had flipped excitedly when he’d locked them over your wrists. He was careful not to make them too tight, told you to say something if they started to rub your skin wrong, but you sort of enjoy the pressure of them each time you tug against the bed frame. 

Spencer’s curiosity is just as fervid in the bedroom as it is out. He takes his time with you, cataloguing each movement and sound. Your breath hitches, and he tilts his head, an academic. Scientific fingers explore every curve and bend. 

You’re seeping arousal from between your folds before he even gets there. 

“Spence,” you plead.

“Hm?” 

“Can you just—” You can’t say it. You know Spencer appreciates plain language, but you can’t make yourself. You push your hips up, hoping he gets the hint. 

He does. He smiles, the asshole. “Can you be patient? I’m getting there.” 

“Today?” 

“Okay, fine.” Spencer laughs as he pushes two fingers into you, their path slick and easy. You gasp in surprise. “Is this what you want?” 

“Please.” 

“I told you I was getting to it.” His voice gentles. He touches his lips to the side of your throat, fingers moving slowly in and out of you. Curling. Gently, so gently. “You know you do better when we build up to it.” 

You almost miss the days when Spencer was still shy around you. When sex made him nervous, when he didn’t know your body quite so well or feel so confident in how to make you tick. 

He’s right, of course. 

“I’m—ahh…”

“Yeah, I know.” Spencer kisses the flat of your chest. Doubtless feeling your erratic heartbeat. “You never like it when it’s happening, but you’re happy afterward. You’ll thank me.” 

It’s not violent, your undoing; Spencer takes you apart gently, with careful fingers, and then swallows the cry that escapes you like it’s his favorite flavor. 

Your wrists are lined with agitated circlets when he pushes into you. You’re well worked open by then. Time is lost to you. You gasp and roll your hips, desperate to grab him, your fists curling around nothing. 

“Hey.” Spencer’s thumb presses over your pulse, a barrier between you and the cuff. “Relax. Be careful with yourself.” 

His lips are parted, pupils blown but eyes soft with concern. You love him. It’s not the first time you’ve thought it, it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve said it, but suddenly you feel it achingly, urgently, tearily. You love him you love him you love him. 

“Come here,” you beg him in as nice a voice as you can. 

Spencer listens, because he always listens to you, really, even when you’re all tied up and helpless and probably a little delirious. His mouth covers yours with reassuring warmth. 

“Still okay?” he asks, just to be sure. 

“Yes.” You press towards him, kissing his chin, his jaw, his sweaty cupid’s bow. “Oh my god, yes.” 

“Okay.” Spencer links his fingers through yours. Pushing you back, but staying close to you. You shudder at the contact. “We’re okay.” 

“Just stay here, please.” 

“Where do you think I would go?” 

[tangerineastronaut]

Hi! I saw you take requests.

May I request something with GOT7 Jackson Wang and best friend!reader, in which the reader starts developing feelings for him and start thinking he’s the one for her? <3

Friends, Just for Now | Jackson Wang (Part 1)

Part 2

The one where your best friend can't keep his secret anymore (and you're oblivious).

Pairing: Jackson Wang (GOT7) x Fem!Reader Genre: Fluff, BestFriend!Reader, idiots to lovers Requested: Yes w.c. 6.6k (oops) Warnings: Cheating (not between jackson and reader), lots of profanity, nicknames, namecalling, minor injury, reader wouldn't know love if it smacked her in the head, holy shit they're kind of annoying af A/N: this was so fun to write, love me a good idiots friends to lovers. I'm also cheesy af, feel free to call me out. Please excuse any errors there may be, I usually proofread after posting. ❣️The love I received on my yunho imagine has literally made me do happy dances, I haven't posted anything on tumblr in 8 years and you guys are just literally the best. I love you all so much! Requests: Open (link below)

Requests | WIPs Masterlists: BTS | ATEEZ | GOT7 | Stray Kids

🎧 FRI(END)S by V

“Come on, pie, I told you this was gonna happen. You never listen.”

Two things went through your mind, though you refused to lift your head from where it was tucked against your knees. 

One, you hated that nickname. Pie. He thought it was so cute, and it probably would’ve died off had you not reacted to it the way you did. One missed smear of cherry on your nose 3 years ago and suddenly you’ve been christened. It was his favorite story to tell. 

And two, Jackson Wang was going to get his shit rocked if he didn’t leave you alone. 

“Fuck off,” you say bitterly, pulling further into yourself.

He was right. He had warned you.

You’d hoped Leejin was different, that the rumors were just exaggerated. Surely he didn’t cheat on every girlfriend…right?

“Wrong,” Jackson had laughed. “He’s a fucking dog, y/n.”

You’d rolled your eyes, and then Jackson said three words to you that had kind of hurt. Not kind of. A lot. They’d hurt a lot. 

“You’re not special.”

Leejin was so nice, he was smart and funny and headed for a successful career with his family’s business (so what if his parents probably paid off the school to make sure those student conduct violations never stuck). You wanted to be special. Spent 4 months trying to be. It wasn't an eternity, but you tended to put your whole heart into everything, and it almost always ended up like this.

But Jackson’s words rang true, painfully so, when you received a text from an unknown number earlier today—screenshots of messages between Leejin and some girl, including explicit photos. The unnamed person had said nothing else; you wondered if it was the girl from the screenshots, but you didn’t reply. You simply texted Leejin to go fuck himself before blocking him on everything, running straight home to your apartment, praying that Jackson wasn’t there. He was, of course, as you split the rent. You hated the look on his face when you barged in, nose red and snotty from crying.

It wasn’t smug, it was just…"come on, pie, I told you this was gonna happen." 

You heard him sigh now, no doubt running a hand through his hair. It was blonde; you’d made fun of him at the time he'd dyed it though begrudgingly had to admit it suited him. But he was going to be bald before he was 40 if he didn’t stop tugging at it when he was stressed.

“Hey. Hey, stop. I hate it when you cry, you know, makes my joints hurt or something,” he says, kneeling beside you.

The fuck…? What does that even—

But you were too upset to stop, so he muttered under his breath, poking at your head until you whipped it up to slap him away. He looked like such a boy, hugging his knees and giving you a pleading look. Fine. Bastard.

You sighed and uncurled yourself, your knees screaming from the pain of turning into a human rollie pollie for the last half hour. Jackson sighed as well, no doubt relieved that you weren’t ugly crying anymore. 

He waited until your sniffles were a few minutes apart before moving, sitting criss cross on the floor. His brown eyes were soft, a rarity, truly, though you knew he was already formulating ways to tease you about this when it was more irritating than painful. 

“Done?” he asks, more to comfort himself than you. You sniff and nod, wiping your nose on your sleeve. Well, his sleeve. He made a face, realizing that you were wearing one of his sweatshirts, but made the apparent decision to yell at you later. 

“Don’t be mean to me,” you mumble, resting your cheek on your knee. 

“When am I ever?”

“Jackson, I swear to fucking—”

“I didn’t say anything, pie.”

“If you don’t drop that god damned nickname, it was one time, one little bit of cherry filling, I don’t even like cherry pie, you’re so fucking annoying—”

It was his turn to interrupt, but he didn’t. He just watched you, an irritating twinkle of amusement in his eyes. You scoffed and tucked your face away again, wishing he’d stop looking at you like that. Or at all, really. If there was one thing you’d learned after being friends with him for so long…the asshat had some eyes on him. Had this way of using his gaze to set the mood, able to stop your arguments or rile you up with micro expressions like an olympic gold medalist of manipulation. 

“Want some ramen?” he asks, tilting his head as though speaking to a kicked dog. You crinkle your nose without looking at him. “Want some cake? Some candy?”

“I want you to leave me alone,” you grumble. 

“Want a bath?”

You sigh, refusing to humor him with an answer he already had. He snapped his fingers like he’d just solved the equation of the century, having the audacity to ruffle your hair as he stepped over you unnecessarily to get to the door. You could hear him down the hall, the sound of the bathroom cabinets opening and closing, the water running, hopefully set on hot like you liked. 

“You're out of bath bombs,” he called. You frown. 

“I’m not, they’re under the sink.”

“Why’d you move them? Next to your menstrual equipment, eww.”

That’s why. You felt sorry for whatever unfortunate woman Jackson decided to wife up—the man was addicted to hot baths and cotton candy bath bombs. You’d have to move them again though, now that he knew about your stash. Besides, you’d sent him to the shop more than a few times when you were cramping and out of pads (and chocolate); he would not be impeded by them.

Jackson was waiting for you by the time you dragged yourself to the small shared bathroom. He bowed dramatically, gesturing toward the tub which was steaming hot, as you liked—a meal’s gotta cook. 

You mumble a thank you as he walks past, though he pauses in the doorway, eyes narrowed.

“Get naked, and give me my damn sweatshirt,” he says, pointing accusingly at you. You pout, immediately clutching your pearls.

“Is that why you never get laid? Jesus, would’ve thought you were smoother than that,” you huff. He impatiently tugs at your sleeve, rolling his eyes in that sassy way that always made you giggle and made him more irritated—a win win scenario. 

“It’s a $30 shirt, not a snot rag…pie.”

“You’re a snot rag,” you mumble. You turn your back to him, crossing your arms at the hem and tugging it over your head. You were still in a bra thankfully, though still covered your chest as you tossed the material at him. 

Jackson caught it smoothly, though he wasn’t even looking at the sweatshirt. You didn’t realize he was looking at you until you reached for the button of your jeans. His eyes weren’t lower than your lips, but he looked a little…off. You expected a joke about a food baby or maybe how pale you’ve gotten, but he says nothing. 

“Hello?” you say, shaking your head. “Is that all? Want my pants too? Gonna do my laundry for a change?”

Jackson blinks like his brain finally returned to his skull. He bit the inside of his cheek, shaking his head and backing out of the doorway. Before he closed the door, however, his eyes leveled with yours, so intense it made your breath catch in your throat. Was he mad? Over a sweatshirt?

“Leejin is a fucking idiot,” he says before turning on his heel and heading down the hall. 

You stare at the spot where he stood, even after he’s gone. The hell was his problem now?

By the time you’ve finished your glorious bath, you waltz into the living room like a princess. Jackson looks up from his place on the sofa, deadpanning and tossing his phone on the coffee table as he takes in the freshly purloined hoodie you're sporting.

“Gonna lock my closet,” he says, shaking his head. You beam at him, cutely crinkling your nose as you pad to the kitchen. You tug open the fridge, thinking maybe you could cook something simple for the two of you. It was kind of late to make anything grand, but you wanted more than ramen. 

The empty shelves make your eye twitch. 

“Seriously?” you huff, gesturing around. “Would it kill you to get groceries once?”

“You always complain when I do,” Jackson shrugs, flicking through netflix with the remote. “Got the wrong brand, got too many, didn’t get enough—”

“I always text you a detailed list, but whatever,” you grumble, low enough that it doesn’t provoke a response. “Since you’re a big man baby incapable of buying groceries, you can buy us something at the convenience store.”

“I am perfectly capable, thank you,” Jackson says, narrowing his eyes. 

“Of what? Weaponized incompetence? I agree, get dressed,” you hum. 

Ten minutes later, you’re walking side by side down to the convenience store. The apartment’s location was perfect—five minutes from campus one way, five to a 24 hour convenience store another. Perfect because you both had a habit of wanting to come home when you were drunk after a party, starved and craving foods that you’d regret the next day. 

The doors chimed a welcome as they slid open, allowing you inside. You made a beeline for the sweets, Jackson went straight for the energy drinks. 

You perused the aisle for a few minutes, making your choice and going to find your roommate. You rounded the corner and froze. 

Unfortunately, it wasn’t possible to block someone in real life. So while you’d never see Leejin’s social media posts, it didn’t mean that you wouldn’t run into him on a saturday night at the convenience store near your apartment. 

You feel a mix of emotions—anger, shame, disbelief among them. You knew it wasn’t impossible, it wasn’t even unlikely, as this store was one of only a few. But it felt so damn unfair that he’d happen to be here, hours after you found out about what he’d done. 

“Is that all you’re getting?” Jackson snorts, frowning as he eyes your bag of chips. But he notices your stillness, following your gaze to see Leejin, casually chatting on the phone as he looks at the protein bars.

You expect him to snort, maybe make a comment just loud enough for the other to hear before pulling you away, but Jackson surges forward so quickly he nearly knocks you over. You grab his arm, both to steady him and stop him from…whatever the hell he’s doing. 

“Where are you going?” you whisper, tugging him back with as much strength as you could muster. 

“He broke your heart and I’m gonna break his fucking face.”

He moves again, this time dragging you along on the linoleum floor. Fortunately, Leejin is too preoccupied with his call to notice. The thought makes your stomach twist, briefly wondering who he’s talking to. 

“You’re gonna get us kicked out, what’s the matter with you?” you hiss, trying to shake sense into him. Jackson yanks his arm away from you, dropping the energy drinks on the nearest shelf before storming off. You stare after him, mouth agape in disbelief. 

You arrive home 15 minutes later, having hid near the bathrooms until Leejin had left. You’d bought (and paid for, irritatingly) your snacks and Jackson’s drinks, but when you shove into the apartment, it’s empty. Lights off, no sign of him. You worry for a few seconds—had he waited for you and bumped into Leejin instead? But you surely would’ve heard something outside. You opt to text him and choose to believe he’s being broody and walking through the streets like a sad music video.

> what the fuck? is your deal? Where are you??

You’re confused and groggy when someone taps at your cheek, not realizing you’d even fallen asleep on the couch. You rub at your eyes, squinting, processing the sight of Jackson standing over you, t-shirt stuck to his form, beads of sweat rolling down his cheeks. 

You’ve had weird dreams about him before, ones that you’d rather never speak of again, and they usually start out like this. But this Jackson rolls his eyes in a way that sweet, sweet dream Jackson would never. 

“Get up, jesus. Your back is going to hurt,” he says. You slowly sit up, realizing he’s right. Apparently not only had you fallen asleep on the couch,  but you’d fallen asleep sitting up, sleeping in an unnatural slouched position. 

“Ow…”

“Told you.”

“No it’s…hey,” you snap, waking up a bit more now that you  remember that you’re actually pissed at him. “It’s your fucking fault, what happened to you? You just disappeared! I was worried!” 

You’re surprised to see Jackson bristle. He’s not shaken easily, least of all by you, but he glances to the side and tugs at his t-shirt, separating it from his damp skin. 

“Went to the gym. Figured I should cool off,” he says. You want to be pissed at him more, say something else, but your back hurts and you’re sleepy. Plus, you’re glad to see he’s alright. Mostly.

“Whatever,” you finally grumble, trying to stretch out your neck. “What time is it?”

“Dunno, around 2 a.m.,” he replies casually. “I’m gonna shower.”

“Great,” you huff. “You go shower. I��ll go roll over and die happy now that I know you’re alive.”

You stumble down the hall to your room, sighing at the sight of your unmade bed. What was the point if you were going to mess it up anyway? You hear Jackson follow shortly after, the bathroom door opening and closing. The shower starts, and you shuffle beneath the covers. 

You wake up not long after, whining in protest as you’re jostled. 

“It’s me,” Jackson says, rudely pushing you over. “Scoot.”

You wanted to shove him away, to point out that “scoot” should be said before you rob someone of their bed, but you can’t be bothered. Besides, once he settles next to you, you realize that he’s not wearing a shirt and he smells nice and clean. 

Sleepy, groggy, annoyed, relieved, you curl against him like a bunny seeking warmth. You feel him stiffen, though you think little of it. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, not sounding the least bit tired. You couldn’t say the same for yourself, unable to open your eyes as you reply. 

“Mm. ‘s warm down here. Night night.”

You hear him sigh, then shuffle, and then he’s rolled over to face you, offering a human-made cocoon that you happily burrow into. He’s soft and warm and smells like his manly body wash—and your shampoo, damn it. 

“Goodnight, y/n,” he says, soft enough to count but not enough for you to notice. 

Waking up tangled with Jackson was, unfortunately (?), not all that unusual. When you were upset, you found your way to his bed, and despite his protests you knew he didn't actually mind. It went both ways—you'll die before you admit that you like it, if only because he's a human heater.

You still feel groggy, squinting and fumbling around for your phone. Such a task is difficult when there's deadweight slung over your waist, but you manage, bringing the device to your face.

10:43 a.m.

Oh good. You slept 8 hours—and half the day away, to your brain at least. You toss your phone down, debating whether or not you should just go back to sleep. You choose instead to roll over, addressing the sleeping shirtless man keeping you pinned to your bed.

Your camera roll was filled with photos just like this, because Jackson slept like a baby. Literally. Hands curled into fists, face relaxed, head tilted to the side. His blonde hair is mussed from sleeping with it wet last night, and you dodn't hesitate to run your fingers through it for no reason at all. It was soft and surprisingly thick, but you weren't about to dial back on the baldness theory.

Jackson stirred, though didn't wake up, shifting to lie on his back. Freed from your restraints, you sat up and had to cover your mouth to stifle a laugh.

Of course the curtains parted like that, of course he was sleeping like a prince now, sunlight arcing off of his jaw—it even highlighted his stubble in an annoyingly poetic way. What kind of gods were kind enough to give him of all people that face?

He really was kinda...pretty.

No, not kinda. Jackson Wang was beautiful. You were his best friend, but you weren't blind. Maybe you'd become a little numb to his charms, but you'd seen what he could do to people with just a look, even without malicious intent. He was charismatic on top of that, though you were the only one who got to see the side of him that wasn't.

The side that stole your shampoo and commandeered your bed, anyway.

So fine, you knew he was pretty. But he was kinda sorta extra pretty right now, and maybe you wanted to remember it later.

You shifted to grab your phone—a never-ending quest for material to bully each other over—but the movement apparently jostled him awake. You sheepishly smiled as he blinked a few times, using the heel of his palm to rub the blurriness away.

"Really?" he asked, voice rough, eyes leveling to the phone in your hand. "Fucking creep."

"You have like a thousand pictures of me sleeping," you point out, narrowing your eyes. Jackson nods, rolling over and hugging your waist, his head resting against your hip.

"That I do—you're cute when you drool all over yourself. I'm working on a collage."

"Asshole," you mutter, prying his arms off of you. You make an attempt to escape, but as expected, you're smoothly hauled back down.

"Where you going?"

"I need to pee, wanna come with?"

"It's early."

"It's almost 11."

"Yeah, early."

Jackson grunts before you can reply, practically placing you in a chokehold as he rolls over. You have no choice but to go with him, ending up flopped over his chest like a dead fish.

He says nothing for a moment, and you wonder if he's fallen back asleep. It's not difficult to squirm out of his grasp this time, though rather than allowing you to slide off, the apparently-awake-Jackson moves both hands to your hips.

Your stomach does that funny thing it sometimes does around him, like a little alarm that says 'hey! getting too close!' Listening to this alarm had prevented a lot of mistakes over the course of your friendship, mistakes like wanting to kiss him when you were tipsy, noticing the way he looked after a long workout, hair plastered to his forehead, the fuzziness you felt that time your heating pad broke, and his warm hands wound up on the lower half of your tummy to stave off the cramps.

Mistakes like that.

His eyes open again, and you do your best to look irritated.

"I'm sorry about last night," he says, suddenly unnaturally serious. "I was just trying to cool off, and my phone died, so I didn't see your text until after I got home."

You're not really sure how to respond—it was always strange when conversations got like this between you, regardless of the topic. It was so jarring, so far from the usual cracked out nonsense. You decided to nod, then shake your head, then nod again.

Jackson was a badass, most people knew as much. He was trained in martial arts and practically ate protein for every meal. But despite this, he wasn't typically an aggressive guy. You'd only ever seen him throw one punch—an ex of yours a couple years ago who threatened to post a nude photo of you. Needless to say, the guy deleted them, made difficult thanks to the blood smearing his screen as it dripped from his nose.

"It's fine, I get it," you say. "Just...why were you so mad at him? Did he do something to you?"

Jackson blinks up at you, shifting so that he's partially sitting up on his elbows.

"I told you, y/n," he says, shaking his head like you're an idiot. "He broke your heart, I was gonna break his face. You should've let me get one hit in at least."

"He didn't break my heart," you groan, rolling your eyes. "It wasn't that serious, you know that. We'd only been dating for 4 months."

"...I watched you cry for an hour because someone stepped on a worm—"

"—that's different. It's literally a living little creature, what if that's someone's girlfriend, hm? What if she asked her boyfriend 'would you still love me if I was a worm' and he said yes except now they can't live wormily ever after because she's smushed all because some horrible person can't be bothered to step aside for a worm?"

Jackson stared up at you, blinking slowly, looking 175% done with your shit.

"What the fuck is wormily ever after?"

You sigh, leaning forward until your head is on his bare shoulder. You have half a mind to bite him, though you resist. You will be civil—for now.

"I don't know," you mumble. "No early birds, no hot sidewalks?"

"I....you're so fucking weird."

"Lots of guys are dickheads, but you were ready to knock him out. Really, Jackson, was that all? Promise he didn't say something to you?" you ask, voice muffled against his warm skin. Just one lil munch. It'd be good payback for him scaring the hell out of you last night.

Jackson exhales, and there's suddenly a hand tugging at your tangled mess of bedhead until you're sitting up, looking down at him.

"I wanted to kick his ass for the same reason that I never bring anyone home," he says quietly. His eyes are serious, no sparkle of humor in them, and it makes your stomach twist. You didn't like it when Jackson got serious.

"What? Because of me?" you ask. "I don't care who you fuck as long as I don't have to cook them breakfast."

Mostly true—you were afraid of walking out of your bedroom one morning and running into a really pretty girl, someone with perfect grades and clear skin, who has the audacity to be beautiful and nice. Someone only Jackson deserves. But you leave that bit out and give him a half teasing smile.

Jackson doesn't return it. He grunts, moving his hand up to tug at his hair. You slip yours beneath his, mumbling for him to stop doing that.

"You really don't?" he finally asks, swallowing hard enough that you see his throat move.

"Don't what?"

"You don't care who I fuck?"

His question catches you off guard, though not as much as the fact that he still looks dead serious. This seems like something the two of you should be laughing over—not something to talk about whilst you're currently straddling your best friend in your bed, who happens to be naked from the waist up.

"I mean...no?" you say, shaking your head in confusion. "Should I?"

"I don't know, should you?"

Should you? What the hell was that supposed to mean? You didn't like riddles, and this felt like one. You'd tried to stay out of his business over the four years you've been friends, though come to think of it...you'd never met any of his girlfriends after the first six months. You'd assumed he was so busy with classes and his extracurriculars that there just wasn't much time for anything past shallow hookups.

But...you couldn't remember a single time that had occurred. He was home every night, never brought company over for that purpose.

"Jackson," you say quietly, palms resting on his chest. When the hell did he get so muscular? There was a noticable firmness beneath your fingers, and you briefly considered billing Leejin for your services in making sure he didn't get the shit beat out of him. "I feel like this is an inside joke and I'm out of the loop. You're upset? Why?"

"Why would I be?" he counters, irritatingly smooth. The hands on your hips squeeze once, like he's trying to talk to you in morse code. It's annoying.

"Quit," you mumble, biting your lower lip. "I'm trying. Stop being mean and just tell me."

He sighs, moving a hand to his face.

"If you don't already know, then it doesn't matter, alright?"

"Wh—"

You're cut off as he suddenly shifts from beneath you, leaving you tumbling to the sheets when he stands. Just like the last two times for some damn reason, he prepares to storm out of the room.

"Jackson, wait—shit."

You trip over the edge of your nightstand, catching yourself on your hands. Your lamp tumbles to the floor, thankfully not shattering on the carpet. Still, the ache brings tears to your eyes, and you bite the inside of your cheek as you sit down.

"How many times have I told you to push that against the wall!?" Jackson says, rushing over to you. You lean back against your bed, grimacing as you look at your knee. It's not the worst scrape you've ever gotten, but it is bleeding, and it burns.

"Hang on, pie." He leaves the room, and by the time he returns with the pack of bandaids and peroxide, you're covering your face with one hand and hugging your knee with the other.

"Hey, it's not so bad," he says, obviously in partial panic mode as he kneels in front of you and tugs at your ankle. He probably thought that's why you were in tears, but it was moreso the fact that he was being...just...weird, and you didn't like it.

You quietly sit there, hands over your eyes as he uses a cotton ball to dab at the blood. You don't even flinch, it doesn't burn—perks of having an MMA star for a roommate; he knew how to bandage a cut (a common occurence for your clumsy ass, unfortunately).

After a few minutes, he pats the side of your calf, and you finally uncover your eyes. There's a bandaid over the scrape now, and you let your knee fall to the side. Jackson is looking at you, and you nod.

"That's good, thanks," you mumble quietly.

"You sure?" he asks. You frown, nodding quickly. But his hand moves up to your cheek, cupping it as his thumb swipes below your eye.

Tears.

That alarm goes off inside of you, but Jackson doesn't move his hand, so you let it sit there and you feel your stomach tying itself into a knot. You're a little worried it's not gonna come undone.

"I wasn't crying because of that," you say, swallowing as you glance away shamefully. "I...I don't like this, Jackson. Feels weird. If I did something to make you mad, I wish you'd just tell me—"

"I'm not mad at you," he replies. You sniff, and finally his hand slips away, though only to rest on your uninjured knee. His fingers twitch, like he wants to do something but won't let himself. Slap you, maybe, for never listening to him and always ending up hurt because of it. You would, if you were him.

"You keep running away from me," you point out, a little surge of anger from last night returning. "You keep acting like I'm supposed to know everything you're thinking, and I don't, because you won't tell me stuff. I tell you stuff, the least you could do is text me a grocery list of what the fuck is going on inside of your brain, so I'm not sitting here thinking I'm gonna lose my best friend and roommate over something I don't even know that I've done. I'm sorry we ran into Leejin, it's not like I knew he was gonna be there. I'm sorry for thinking I was special in the first place and ending up where you said I'd be."

Jackson sighs and tilts his head, and you hate yourself for crying more. It wasn't a big deal, things were a little crazy after yesterday. You didn't even love Leejin, it had just...hurt? Your pride? No one wants to know they're less than a second choice. But Jackson had acted like Leejin was out for his blood, and every time he runs away, it feels like he's escaping you.

"You're not gonna lose me," he finally says, glancing down at the floor. "I just...I've got a lot of shit to work through, you know? It's not...it's not your fault though."

"Like what?" you ask, worry lining your brow. "If you'd just—is it money? Because we can figure out rent—"

"It's not money," he interrupts. "I promise, it's nothing like that."

"Then what?" You huff, a little more irritated than concerned. "Parents? Grades? Girl trouble?"

"Yeah," he nods, licking his lips. "That last bit."

"Girl trouble?" you ask, somewhat surprised. For some reason, the fact that he hadn't told you about a girl bothered you more than the idea that there was one at all. You shared everything with him; if he'd kept her a secret, it had to have been a little more serious.

"Do I know her?" you ask tentatively. Please say no, I don't want to go through a list of the hottest girls I know.

"Yeah," he replies. Fuck.

"Oh. How long have you been dating?"

"We're not."

"Then...?"

"She's an idiot."

"It's a mystery as to why you're single, really," you say, rolling your eyes. "So she's an idiot because she won't date you? Sounds kind of shallow on your end."

"She's an idiot because she keeps dating jackasses who don't give a shit about her. I don't give a damn if she ever chooses me or not," he says plainly. You frown.

"Maybe she's insecure?"

"She is. Very."

"Huh. Is she pretty?"

"Beautiful."

"Oh. Hm."

Well what the fuck were you supposed to say to that? Congratulations? Sorrows, sorrows, prayers?

"Okay..." you say after a beat. You were not good with advice, especially when it came to love, obviously. He didn't say love though. Infatuation, maybe. Still, you were not an expert. "So if she keeps dating jackasses and won't date you, why do you bother? Why not just forget about her?"

Jackson's eye twitches. You don't notice.

"Hard to forget someone you see every day, pie," he says. You scoff.

"Okay, I'm calling bullshit. I'm literally the only person you see every day."

"Mhm."

"Then you're lying?" you ask. Jackson deadpans.

"Please, for the love of god, never reproduce."

"Rude," you mutter. "Fine, so I know her, she's insecure, pretty, dates assholes, you allegedly see her everyday?"

"All of the above," he says. You frown, lips pursing as you rack your brain for answers, going through the hot insecure girls you know like a filing cabinet.

Wait.

Your eyes widen. Jackson's do the same, and then he smiles, like he's proud of you.

"Oh my god, is it Kim Sujin?" You ask, covering your mouth. "The girl with the—"

"Jesus fucking christ, y/n," he groans, running a hand through his hair. "Are you...you're fucking with me? That's what this is. You're not this dumb, right? Please say no. I feel like I'm in middle school right now, holy shit."

You open your mouth to argue, to insist he was being unfair (you didn't even like puzzles!) but he suddenly leans forward, palms cupping both of your cheeks. He pulls you toward him, nose inches from yours. You've been this close to him before, but you're suddenly dizzy now, a little out of it as you wonder if this is really happening to you—or if this is another sweaty-jackson-standing-over-me dream. Jackson, who has freckles on the tip of his nose and won't stop looking at you like that, the knot pulling tighter and tighter.

"Stop thinking before you hurt yourself. 'm gonna kiss you now, is that okay?" he asks.

Is that oka—?

"Kiss?" you mumble, swallowed up by those god damn pretty brown eyes. Jackson nods, head tilted, primed to kiss the cluelessness out of you, apparently. "Y-yeah, that's fine."

"It's gonna be...it's gonna be a lot, okay? Like not just a peck. You're fine with that?"

"Yep," you nod.

Jackson nods back. And then he kisses you.

He doesn't release your face, squishing your body between himself and the bed behind you. His lips press to yours, insistent and warm, though you can tell he's being cautious—if you wanted to push him away, you could. But you did not want to do that.

Because Jackson Wang was kissing you, and he's a really good kisser.

You briefly forget that you have hands, so when you remember, you waste no time in using them. One cups his jaw, feeling the edge of it press into your palm. The other fists his blonde hair, tugging it gently.

Jackson groans into your mouth, and that alarm in your belly turns into a fucking war drum. You feel the knot tighten and snap, and suddenly you're pushing him back, scrambling into his lap.

You kind of want more, kind of want to put your tongue in his mouth because he's warm and tastes good and you can only imagine how much better it would be, but he beats you to it. His tongue swipes over your lower lip and you eagerly open for him. He breathes in as soon as you do, and it feels like he's stealing your soul. Fuck it? He can have it?

It's messy, a tad bit desperate, definitely not the poetic kiss of rom coms, but you don't give a shit. It feels good, feels warm and right, like you've been kissing him in your head every day for the past 4 years.

By the time you manage to separate, you're trembling an embarassing amount. You'd blame the buzz on coffee if you'd had any, but you just hide your flushed cheeks and rest your forehead against his shoulder. You can tell that for once, Jackson's brain seems to also have short circuited, as it takes him a minute before he finally wraps his arms around you. You can hear his breath—as shaky as yours, thank god.

"Was that okay? Was it weird? Did I make you uncomfortable?" he asks, tilting back on one palm to look at you, his other arm secured around your waist. You sit up, shamelessly biting your lower lip, refusing to meet his eyes. He mistakes this for discomfort, all but shoving you out of his lap, hands flying to his hair.

"Fuck, I...I shouldn't have...I didn't mean to. I wasn't gonna...I'm so fucking sorry y/n, if you want me to move out—"

"You're gonna go bald," you mumble, a little blitzed out as you rest on your hands.

"Huh?"

"Nevermind. Stop freaking out, okay?" you offer, finally looking up at him. God he looks...scared. Hair messy, brown eyes wide. So unlike his usual cocky self that you're a little shaken, caught between wanting to protect him and wanting to kiss him again.

"I didn't make you uncomfortable, did I?" he asks softly. That alarm is now everywhere, setting off in your chest at his concerned tone. You shake your head.

"No. I'm okay," you reassure him. "A little irritated."

Jackson's head snaps up, worry on his face. You feel guilty, so you quickly clarify.

"You said I'm not special," you say quietly, looking away. "If you were talking about me just now...why did you tell me that?"

He looks confused, like he can't remember (of all the things he's said to bully you—while you kept a detailed record). But he seems to finally recall the conversation, rubbing his forehead as his lips spread into a smile.

"What's funny?" you puff.

"I meant to him, pie. You're not special to him. Not that you weren't special at all, or to...to me," he explains, looking part amused and part shy. You soften a bit, unable to help but pout.

"Then you should say that!" you say, gesturing at nothing. "You can't just go around telling people they aren't special."

"I don't make you feel special?" he asks, dipping his head to meet your eyes.

Well, yes, but that's not the point. You choose not to reply.

Just like most things when it comes to you, however, he already knows the answer. He looks a little too proud of himself as he reaches for your wrist, pulling you back into him. You're not quite in his lap, but you lean heavily against his side, your chin resting against his chest.

"What if we mess it up?" you ask, looking up at him. He frowns, not understanding. "Us. What if...what if we mess us up?"

"I don't see how we would," he laughs. "We're practically married."

"Gross. We are not."

"We split the bills, pie."

"Most roommates do."

"We cook together."

"Most roommates do."

"My mother loves you."

"Your mother loves everyone."

"Not true. And my father loves you."

You pause, then squint.

"Your father has good taste," you say. Jackson rolls his eyes. He looks a little conflicted, like he can't decide what's too much, what's too soon.

"I do," he says quietly.

You hate that, for once in your life, you know exactly what he's saying without him saying it. And god damn it, you feel your eyes burning.

"Don't...ugh," you whine, looking away from him. But he's not having it, taking your chin and tilting your face up. You're faced with glassy eyes that make you want to die.

You hated it when he cried. Maybe you make his joints hurt or whatever, but you've only seen Jackson cry twice, once when his family dog died, and another when he was drunk and had convinced himself you weren't his friend anymore. Both times, you'd never felt so helpless. The way you feel now.

"Y/n, I—"

"Please don't," you breathe quickly, swallowing down your tears. You immediately panic at the look on his face, like you've slapped him. But you tuck your hair behind your ear and shake your head.

"No, I-I mean, I know you do, and I...I'm pretty sure I do too. I just...I can't say it now, alright?" you explain. "I'm sorry, I just—you know me better than anyone. I don't...don't wanna fuck it up, you know? I don't wanna lose you, I'm so bad, so stupid when it comes to this—"

"Hey, hey, shh..." Jackson says, gently shaking your chin. "I'm not upset, okay? Just relieved, a little scared. I don't want to fuck this up either, yeah? I want...I want what we are today and I want it tomorrow, even if that means we stay just like this."

His thumb brushes your lower lip. God, you want to kiss him again.

"No rush, pie, okay? I'll wait for you, even if..." he sucks in air and looks away, as though the idea hurts to even consider. "...even if it's never for us."

You want to kiss him again. Would that even be appropriate? After what you just said? After the emotions threatening to disrupt the foundation of your life for the past four years?

"Can...can I kiss you again?" he asks softly. You swallow and nod.

"Please."

Part 2 is out now!

[mommyslittlebird]

Long Distance Mommy!Wanda: Punishment

Of course, I could finish my chapter for this week, but I could write 2k words of puppy!reader yesterday and 1k words of this today 😵‍💫😵‍💫

"You've been a very naughty girl today, haven't you?" Wanda clicks her tongue over the phone.

You swallowed. You wanted to argue. The only reason you had gotten distracted in class was because she was sending you naughty things all day. But you held your tongue. You knew better than to argue. "Yes, mommy."

"Mmm," she hummed, pleased you thought better of trying to pin this on her. "And you know mommy has to punish naughty girls, don't you?"

You nodded. "Yes, mommy."

"That's a good girl. Now, I need you to go to the toy drawer and pick out exactly what I tell you to, okay? You'll need a plug- the blue one tonight-, the paddle, and your clamps."

Your eyes went wide. It wasn't uncommon that Wanda would make you put in the plug or wear the nipple clamps, but she very rarely made you use both at the same time. You whined. "Mommy..."

"Aww, what is it baby?" She cooed with faux sympathy.

"It's gonna hurt..." you whimpered quietly.

She nearly laughed. "Of course it's going to hurt, baby. It is a punishment, after all. But you're gonna be a good girl for mommy, aren't you?"

"Yes, mommy," you grumbled reluctantly, grabbing the toys and bringing them to the bed. Since dating Wanda, you'd acquired a good number of new toys, including a nice adjustable stand for your phone that allowed you to film yourself on your bed. You set up your phone, putting Wanda on speaker and hitting the video call button.

Wanda smiled as you appeared on her screen, already naked and preparing yourself for her. "Hey, pretty girl."

You blushed, carefully avoiding the camera as you applied lube to the plug and slowly pushed it into your ass.

She clicked disapprovingly. "Uh uh, sweet girl. You know better than that. Turn over and spread your cheeks. Mommy wants to see your pretty plug."

You did as she asked, glad that at least she couldn't see how red your face was getting from this angle, even though you were sure she already knew.

She hummed. "Mmm, good girl. You're lucky I don't make you take it out and put it back in, since you decided to hide it from me the first time."

You whimpered at the thought. "Thank you, mommy. I'm sorry."

When she finally had her fill, she spoke again. "Okay, sweetheart. You can turn back over now. Show mommy how you put on your clamps."

You turned back over, showing her the clamps first so she could make sure they were adjusted to their most intense setting. You pinched your nipple, crying out as the cruel metal sank into the sensitive bud. You did the same thing on the other side, nearly crying with how sensitive you were.

The plug stung slightly, stretching you just past what was comfortable. But the clamps hurt even worse, burning and stinging your sensitive chest. You were already squirming in front of Wanda. "Mommy, can I touch myself, please? Please mommy. It hurts so bad." The lack of pleasurable stimulation made the pain almost unbearable.

Wanda, who could see how quickly you were already approaching a breaking point, caved. "Yes, baby. Play with yourself for me. Tell mommy how it feels."

The pressure to your clit immediately brought you relief, allowing the stinging pain to take on a slightly pleasurable edge. It was truly amazing how much of a difference it made. You moaned. "Much better, mommy. It still h-hurts. But... not s-so bad."

"Mmm, that's a good girl. Keep touching yourself for me, baby. Get yourself nice and sensitive."

You did as she asked, bucking against your own hand in a desperate attempt to get yourself off. With the stimulation on nearly every sensitive part of your body, you could feel your orgasm steadily approaching. You hoped Wanda would have mercy on you, deciding that the combination of the clamps and plug was enough of a punishment for tonight. "Can I cum, mommy?"

Wanda was slightly taken aback by your question. Sure, she'd been teasing you all day, but you were hardly ever this fast. "So close already, baby?"

You nodded, biting down on your bottom lip.

"Stop." She commanded.

You whined but did as she instructed.

"Pick up the paddle. I want you to hold yourself open for me and spank your little clit twenty times. I'll count out loud. If I don't think it was hard enough, it doesn't count. Understand?"

You whined, picking up the paddle in your right hand, using your left hand to spread your lips apart, putting your swollen clit on display for her. Hesitantly, you brought the paddle down with a soft thud. She didn't start counting. You tried again, harder this time. She didn't say "one" until the third time, when the leather made a loud thwack again your glistening folds.

You continue to bring down the paddle again and again, eyes watering and thighs shaking until they uncontrollably snap closed. "No more, mommy. Please."

"Three more." She commands. She takes a small bit of mercy on you. She'd only counted 15.

Shaking, you spread your thighs again, bringing the paddle down again. Your legs snap closed in between each painful strike, but you manage three more.

Her harsh demeanor final fades away after she counts the third strike. She allows you to throw the paddle down and collapse onto the bed with your thighs pressed tightly together in an attempt to relief the pain. "You did so good for me angel. You can take the clamps off and the plug out whenever you're ready, baby. Mommy's got you, sweetheart."

Even from far away, she was always so tender in her aftercare. She directed you through all the steps, carefully talking you through everything from applying ointment to wrapping yourself up in your favorite blanket. She told you leave the toys on the nightstand wrapped in a blanket. They could wait until morning.

You wrapped yourself around the stuffed bear she'd bought you, inhaling the strawberry scent she'd picked out to put inside. You let her soft words of praise and love wrap around you, pretending she was laying right beside you. You peacefully drifted off to the sound of her gentle voice singing to you.

Even from miles away, she would always let you know you are her precious angel, more loved than anything else in the world.

[sturniqlo]

OUT THE WINDOW- SHY!MATT x SHY!READER

summary: shy!matt and darlings first ever argument

cw: ANGST; argument, crying, resolved angst, FLUFF; comforting, kissing, cuddling

an: sorry this took for fucking ever, my mind just went blank when writing this, but i really loved the idea so i couldn't pass it up!

masterlist | shy!matt x shy!reader | join my taglist

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

matt wasn't one to ignore darling- or anyone in general, which was weird when he had ignored several of her texts. he was supposed to pick her up thirty minutes ago. maybe he was on his way and his phone had died? she thought. she waited for another hour. matt would never do this- he would never leave her waiting.

she decided to send one last text.

darling 8:51pm

hi babe... did you forget about our date today? i've been waiting for a while🫤

matt 9:02pm

omg! i'm so sorry. i had made plans with the guys... i did forget, sorry

darling 9:03pm

oh okay, have fun then :/

matt 9:05pm

baby, don't be like that

darling 9:07pm

*read 9:07pm*

she was upset- actually she was pretty mad. how could he forget? they had this planned for weeks! she was disappointed because he forgot and left her waiting for almost two hours. they- she had booked tickets for a new museum exhibit that she wanted to visit- since the museum closed at 11pm she had gotten tickets for 9pm.

matt wasn't the biggest fan of museums, but he'd do anything for her so he just agreed to go with her. turns out he didn't go along with his words.

10:52pm

y/n was laying in bed reading her current book when she got a call from matt. she was still pretty mad about what had happened, but she picked up anyways. "hello?" she mumbled- closing her book and sitting up against her headboard. "hey, pretty. uhm- is the- is the museum still open?" he said with a slight smile on his face- she could hear his keys jingling in the background. he was most likely coming to pick her up.

she holds back a scoff. "it's about to close in a couple of minutes- i'm going alone next week, it's okay- don't worry about it." she sighs, throwing her comforter off of her. "so- i don't have to pick you up tonight?" he stops in front of his car. "no, matt." he heard the change in her voice.

"baby, are you mad at me? i said i was sorry- i forgot." he speaks, leaning against the drivers side door. "that's- that's the thing, matt. you forgot- we had this planned for weeks! and- and i even mentioned it yesterday when we were together. and you just... forgot?" her voice slightly changed. "it slipped my mind, okay?" matt tried his best to stay clam. he didn't know how to control this- they had never argued before.

yeah they had little disagreements about small things- very small things. but never like this- this felt serious. "if you didn't want to go with me you should've just said, not ignore me and make me wait for hours, knowing you weren't going to come!" matt sighs. "you should've reminded me if you really wanted me to go with you." this alone sets her off. "i should've reminded you? i shouldn't have to do that- if you really wanted to you would!"

"look- i didn't mean to, okay?" he throws his head back against the window- matt was starting to get irritated. "didn't mean to what? forget that we had plans? ditch me for your friends?" a hand ran through her hair, her eyes stung a bit and a knot formed in her throat. "i'm sorry- alright! i didn't think it would piss you off this much!" so he forgot on purpose? her grip on the phone tightened when she connected two and two together.

"not piss me off?! matt- i had bought these tickets so long ago because you said you'd go with me! i know museums aren't your thing, but you promised. do- did it not matter to you?" she whispered the last part. "baby- it's not like that... i- i didn't think. it does matter- i just- you know how i am about museums."

"but, matt. it wasn't just about the museum. it was about us spending time together. i chose the museum because it was a new fun exhibit- i thought you'd like it. we barely saw each other this week- and you're about to leave for a week." tears slowly started rolling down her cheeks. "baby.. i- i get that, but the guys called and i wasn't thinking. i thought we could go another time."

"whatever, matt. i'm going to bed." she scoffs- she had had enough of this- at this point she felt like she was repeating herself. "fine." he muttered- leaning off of his car and heading back to his dorm building. she didn't hesitate to hang up right away.

the next day

y/n woke up, got ready for the day and went downstairs to eat a quick breakfast. she had tried her hardest to forgot about last nights argument. she went about her day, she only had two classes today so it was an easy day. her headphones played her personal playlist, which was weird because she had forgotten certain songs that were in it since she hasn't played it in so long.

she walked into the coffee shop and was next in line. "hello, can i get a medium brown sugar cookie iced coffee, please. and tw- one vanilla scone. and a uhm- medium- sorry, nevermind, that will be all." her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. it was almost like muscle memory to get matt's order since you two always got iced coffee and a scone together.

heading over to their usual spot and plopped down waiting for her order. she scrolled through her emails and saw that her second and last class had been cancelled. darling thought she'd go check out the bookstore and see any new arrivals.

she opened the door and the bell above the door chimed. "welcome!" the sweet front desk lady said. "hello." darling smiled at her.

darling scanned the bookshelves, but nothing caught her attention, however she was looking to get a new journal to scrapbook. she headed over to the stationery section and saw the many different journals.

as she paid, she felt her phone buzz in her bag. as the woman scanned her journal and a few other miscellaneous items, darling grabbed her phone and saw that matt was calling. "your total is $23.62." the cashier suddenly spoke. out of habit, she double clicked the side button and declined the call to pay.

matt was currently in his dorm room as he had just came back from his second class of the day. he had a two hour break until his next class. in all honesty, he wasn't able to focus on his classes from earlier. matt was busy overthinking about his argument with darling last night. she probably wants to break up with him and never speak to him again, he thought.

he tried to busy himself by cleaning up his side of the dorm room. throwing away a bit of trash here and there. using the mini vacuum, the one darling bought for him and his roommate, to clean up the carpeted floor. and he did his laundry. as he folded his clothes, one of darlings' shirts had gotten into his load.

he gently folded it and put it in her designated drawer she had in his dorm, which was overflowing. he hoped that it stayed that way. as matt finished folding up his laundry, he decided to call her. opening his recent call log, she was the most recent one.

pretty🤍 yesterday 10:52pm

"please pick up." he muttered as he sat on his bed. it went past the first three rings, no answer yet. the call was soon declined. "fuck." he sighed, tossing his phone to the side resulting in it falling in the crack between his bed and his wall. "great."

matt threw himself back on his bed and groaned in frustration. why'd he have to be such an asshole and ditch her for her friends. most importantly- why'd he leave her waiting? the thought of her being ready and excited to go on the date only for him to not show up made him feel even worse than he already did.

matt really wanted to go over and apologize, he looked at the time and saw that around this time she was already home. he wasn't one to stalk her location as often, but he just decided to check. what if he went to her house and she wasn't even home? he pulled up her location and saw that she was at her friends house. he had remembered because he had picked her up from them once. maybe later. he thought.

the night came around and she was still with her friend. not that he was tracking her or anything, but she just happened to post a story on instagram and he just happened to get the notification.

it wasn't until an hour later when he checked her location and she were finally home. matt sat up and jumped off of his bed and grabbed his car keys from his desk. he didn't bother to grab a hoodie or anything, he just wanted to go to her to apologize.

y/n was laying in bed as she had just gotten home from spending most of the day with her best friend. the two of them caught up on everything. she told darling everything about this guy had been seeing and darling told her about her little disagreement with matt. she opened up to her and told her how she thought that maybe matt was getting tired of her because he never ditched her like that. "darling, i promise you that man is so obsessed with you. he is not leaving you anytime soon or ever." is what she told her.

she had her book propped up on her chest as she caught up on reading. that was until she heard little taps on her window. for a split second she thought it was raining, but when she looked over she saw matt out her window. "what?" she said confusingly, closing her book and sitting up. darling walked over to the window and opened it. "matt, what are you doing here? outside my window!" she told him. "i- i wanted to see you. can you sit with me out here? please." she thought for a second, but quickly agreed.

before she said anything, she turned around. matt had for sure thought she had just rejected him, but she soon returned with a hoodie on. "scoot over." darling said softly. for a moment they sat in silence, the occasional breeze blowing the tree branches. the tension was there, but it wasn't so tense. the silence was soon broken as matt spoke.

"m' sorry. i'm really sorry about yesterday." his hand came to her knee. "i- i shouldn't have done that. shouldn't have ditched you for my friends. shouldn't have left you waiting." his thumb moved back and forth against her sweatpants. "i'm sorry for lashing out on you-" matt interrupted her. "hey- no. don't be sorry, pretty. you had every right to be mad. i was the one who stood you up." she pouted, he was so understanding.

"are- are you sure? i feel really bad." darling grabbed his hand and intertwined their fingers together. a gust of wind blew through and a strand of her hair came out of place. matt's empty hand came up to her face and tucked it behind her ear. "forgive me, baby? let me go with you next week, let me make it up to you." he kissed the back of her hand. she nodded.

"of course i forgive you." she smiled at him, taking her hand away from his to bring it up to his face to connect their lips in a sweet kiss. "i love you." darling mumbled against his lips. "i love you." matt smiled against her lips.

the two sat outside her window for a couple of minutes before it started to drizzle. "you stayin' the night?" she picked up her head from his shoulder. "only if you want me to." he grinned at her already knowing the answer. darling giggled and carefully stood up- matt stood up right after and guarded her to prevent anything- "come on." she crawled back into her room. matt closed the window, locking it, and immediately kicked his shoes off.

like routine he picked her up by the waist and gently tossed her onto the bed crawling on top of her. matt cuddled her, giving her little neck and shoulder kisses here and there.

soon enough, they fell asleep with her head tucked in his neck and his hand running through her hair. they weren't going anywhere anytime soon.

[0omillo0]

sooo saying this with as much love and respect as i possibly can but you are really totally utterly amazing at writing and your angst is part of the top tier community 🖤

if you’re up to writing this then 😍 and if not then it’s completely okay! but i was thinking of an angsty but hopeful? comfort ending of where chan/hyunjin/han/felix (i couldn’t decide 😫) forgets y/n bday completely, despite having plans. y/n is sad yes but expects it, so she hangs with her friends & visits her fam etc. the chosen member will either see an ig post where it’s said oh happy birthday or smth or someone asks him about it, he will try to get to y/n but she’s out and about. when she finally gets back to her apartment then you know grovelling, apologising, flowers and so on.

what do you think?🖤☺️

Hyunjin x Reader 황현진 angst/comfort

He forgets your birthday

a/n: first of all, your kind words almost made me cry, made my day fr 🥹 thank you so much for appreciating my work <3 it means the world to me. i hope this is what you wanted! lmk what you think <3

Today was your birthday.

You were never one to make a big deal out of your birthday, but everything changed when Hyunjin came into your life. From the moment he became your boyfriend, he made it his mission to ensure your special day was as cherished and unforgettable as the love he had for you.

He succeded…

until today.

The day began quietly. You woke up, the morning sunlight filtering through the curtains of your shared bedroom. You stretched your arms and turned to find the other side of the bed empty—Hyunjin’s warmth long gone. Confused, you rubbed your eyes and noticed a small piece of paper resting on the pillow beside you. It read:

“Sorry baby, Chan called me. I had to run. Love you.”

You stared at the note, your heart sinking. No “Happy Birthday,” no reminder of the day that was supposed to be special. A lump formed in your throat as you folded the note and placed it on the nightstand.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t anticipated this. Hyunjin had been so busy lately, barely having time for himself, let alone anything else. But deep down, you had held onto the hope that today would be different, that he would remember.

Unable to hold back the wave of disappointment, you reached for your phone. You opened the messages between you and Hyunjin, scrolling through previous conversations where his affection and thoughtfulness had always shone. But today, there was nothing—no text, no missed call. It hit you like a punch to the gut.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you dialed your best friend. The moment she picked up, her cheery tone only made the pain worse.

“Hey, birthday girl!” she greeted. “What’s up? Are you and Hyunjin doing something special today?”

That was it. The dam broke. A sob escaped your lips, and the words tumbled out before you could stop them.

“Hyunjin forgot,” you choked out, tears streaming down your face. “He forgot my birthday.”

“What?!” your friend exclaimed, the shock evident in her voice. “Y/N, no way. Are you serious?”

You sniffled, your voice trembling. “I woke up, and he was gone. He left a note saying Chan called him, but… but nothing about my birthday. Not even a text, nothing. I feel so stupid for expecting anything.”

Another voice chimed in—it was one of your other close friends, who had been with her. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. That’s awful. Are you sure he didn’t plan something later?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice breaking again. “I don’t think so. He’s been so busy lately. I just—” You stopped, unable to form the words as another sob wracked your chest. “It hurts. It feels like… like I don’t matter enough to be remembered lately.”

“Don’t say that,” your first friend said gently, her tone laced with sympathy. “You matter so much, Y/N. I know Hyunjin loves you like crazy. Maybe he’s just overwhelmed, but I can’t believe he’d forget on purpose.”

“Even if it’s not on purpose, it still hurts,” you whispered, wiping at your cheeks. “I don’t even want to talk to him right now. I just need to turn my phone off and forget about it.”

There was a pause before your friend spoke again. “Okay. You can spend the day with us, alright? Forget about him for now. We’ll celebrate you because you deserve it.”

You nodded, even though she couldn’t see it. “Thank you. I’ll be there soon.”

Later that morning, you met your friends at a cozy café. They greeted you with hugs and warm smiles, trying their best to lift your spirits. You forced yourself to smile back, but the weight of Hyunjin’s absence lingered.

As you sipped your coffee, one of your friends leaned closer. “How are you feeling now?”

“Still hurt,” you admitted quietly. “I keep telling myself not to care, but I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s like… how could he forget something like this? We’ve been together for years. He knows how much birthdays mean to me.”

Your other friend reached across the table to squeeze your hand. “You’re allowed to feel hurt, Y/N. Don’t bottle it up. But knowing Hyunjin, he’ll realize sooner or later and feel awful about it.”

You nodded but stayed silent, the sadness still gnawing at you. After a while, the conversation shifted to lighter topics, and though you appreciated their efforts, you couldn’t fully shake the disappointment.

Meanwhile, Hyunjin was at the studio, oblivious to the emotional turmoil he had caused. It wasn’t until he took a break and opened Instagram that everything clicked.

His heart dropped when he saw a post from your friend—a picture of you laughing at the café, the caption reading:

“Happy Birthday to the sweetest soul! Love you, @Y/N 💕🎉”

Hyunjin froze. “Birthday? No… it can’t be today.” But as he checked the date on his phone, reality hit him like a freight train.

He scrambled to open your messages, his fingers trembling as he typed.

“Y/N, baby, I’m so sorry. I just realized. Please call me.”

“Y/N, where are you? Please, I need to talk to you.”

“Baby, I messed up. I’m so sorry. Please answer me.”

But none of the messages went through. They were marked undelivered, a clear sign that you had turned your phone off. Panic surged through him.

“How could I forget?!” he muttered to himself, pacing the studio. Without wasting another second, he called his manager to clear his schedule and rushed home to make things right.

Back at the apartment, Hyunjin worked tirelessly to create a heartfelt surprise. He decorated the living room with string lights, candles and his paintings, filled a vase with your favorite flowers, and placed a small velvet box containing a delicate necklace on the coffee table.

He also booked a table at an upscale restaurant and bought you a gorgeous Versace dress, imagining how radiant you would look in it. Every detail was perfect—except for the sinking guilt in his chest.

When you finally returned home that evening, your face was streaked with dried tears, and your eyes were red and puffy. As you unlocked the door and stepped inside, you froze. The warm glow of fairy lights illuminated the room, and Hyunjin stood in the center, his face etched with guilt and love.

“Y/N…” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

You stood there, too emotionally drained to respond. Your gaze shifted to the flowers, the candles, and the neatly wrapped dress on the couch.

“What is all this?” you asked, your voice hoarse.

Hyunjin took a hesitant step closer. “It’s my way of saying I’m sorry. I forgot your birthday, and I can’t tell you how much I regret it. I have no excuse, Y/N. I was so caught up in everything else that I forgot the one person who matters most to me.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time, they were fueled by the sincerity in his voice. “Do you know how hurt I was, Hyunjin? I woke up thinking today would be special, but you weren’t even here. I felt so… forgotten.”

You took a small break and sighed. “You… you were the only one who didn’t make me feel this way—“

Hyunjin’s eyes filled with tears as he listened. “Please don’t use the past. I know I hurt you, and I hate myself for it. But I swear, it wasn’t because I don’t care. You’re everything to me, Y/N. Please, let me make it up to you.”

He gestured to the dress and added, “I planned a special dinner for us tonight. And this…” He picked up the necklace from the table. “This is for you. I know it doesn’t erase the pain I caused, but I hope it shows how much you mean to me.”

Your heart softened as his words sank in. Despite the hurt, you could see how deeply he regretted his mistake. Slowly, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him, letting his warmth melt the lingering sadness.

“I forgive you,” you whispered against his chest. “Just… don’t let it happen again.”

“Never,” he promised, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Happy Birthday, my love.”

[iamstillovingyou]

Under the cherry blossom

Kang Dae-ho x reader fluff, comfort Summary: Realizing how important Dae-ho has been to you throughout the games and providing comfort to each other Warnings: PTSD, panic attack, anxiety etc. spoilers for squid game s2

hey guys, this is my first ever try at writing something on here, so please be kind! I can't stop thinking about Dae-ho from Squid Game and my daydreams gave me this idea, so I thought it might be good to write about it. I incorporated some of the events from s2 as well as the ending, inserting reader as part of the group with Dae-ho. I used 'you' throughout the whole fic. Hope you enjoy it! Word count: 1k As the lights went out and everyone retired to their beds with just a few voices chattering away or snoring around the hall, your anxiety started spiking up. You had tried to keep your cool during the games, but one harrowing experience after another left you disturbed. Thinking about the most recent game 'Mingle' left your mind in a whirl. You were wondering how you managed to survive every single round of it. The fact that you were a part of a group of people who became your friends and protectors definitely helped you stay alive so long. But, one particular person you kept thinking of was Dae-ho, who kept close to you throughout the whole game. As soon as they'd announce the number, Dae-ho would grab your hand and run for your lives, hoping to secure the number of people and a room. In the last round, as you were considering the possibility of the number two being announced, you felt a tight grip on arm and turned back to look Dae-ho in the eyes. He gave you a nod of reassurance. You held on to him for dear life. Now that you were alive for the ordeal of the next game, your mind focused on Dae-ho. Ever since you joined their group, he was always looking out for you, making sure you're okay and making little jokes to ensure you keep your mind off the horrifying reality that any of you might not be there the next day. You had got used to him and found his presence soothing and his concern for you during the last game intrigued you.

You started worrying about the next game and felt an oncoming panic attack. You had to talk to someone. You turned your head to the right, to the bed where Dae-ho was sleeping. Hesitatingly, you whispered into the darkness: 'Dae-ho', not hoping for answer. After just a second you heard a quiet 'Yes?' 'Dae-ho, are you sleeping?' Then followed silence. You had almost started regretting calling out his name, especially as you didn't like asking for help. But your thoughts were interrupted by Dae-ho shuffling from his bed and kneeling next to yours. 'Are you okay? Is something wrong?' You tried to make out his face in the faint light, his eyes only two dots shining. 'Dae-ho, I'm scared' you blurted out. You had been scared since the beginning, but managed to keep fear at bay. Now it overwhelmed you completely. Dae-ho kept his voice low 'I know. This place is a nightmare, but we are strong, right?, he said as he took your hand in his, 'We've made it so far, we just have to stick together, okay?'. As he said this he sat down on the side of your bed, taking your hand in his. You sat up, feeling the warmth of his hand. You nodded, but tears started swelling in your eyes. 'Dae-ho, what if we do not make it out of here?' you asked as a hot tear rolled down your cheek, you trying to hold in the sobs bubbling in your throat. 'Remember the bridge you were telling me about? With the cherry blossoms and the pond? How magical it is in the springtime?' You nodded. 'Well, picture it. Imagine us there, walking over it on a sunny day, the breeze blowing the petals softly around us. We're safe and happy. You'll take me there when we get out of here, right?', he flashed his charming smile, wiping away the tear from your cheek. You let out a quiet chuckle, trying not to burst out crying. You had told him about your hometown and how you loved that spot in the springtime and how you longed to see it again. He had listened. 'I promise' you whispered as he kissed your hand. 'Now try to get some sleep, we need to be ready for whatever is coming tomorrow', he said and retreated to his bed.

The next day brought its own challenges. Gi-hun's knowledge of the system had helped your group stay alive thus far. His next proposal was to organize an attack on the guards and their leader. You knew it was a great risk and tried to hide your concern for Dae-ho who was determined to be a part of it. He kept glancing at you as they were making the plan. He knew the danger he was exposing himself to, but he was ready to do anything to make sure you two to walk out of there alive. Before they headed out the door, you ran up to him. 'Dae-ho!' He turned to look at you with his soft gaze, his lips thinning into a line. You took a deep breath. 'I'll be waiting for you", you said and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

... All you could hear were shots being fired. You had just managed to calm yourself a bit, when you saw Dae-ho entering through the door, your face lighting up at the relief. He was back. You ran up to him, smiling on the verge of tears. He looked terrified and went straight to the dead guards on the floor fumbling around in their pockets taking the ammo. You tried talking to him but he wasn't responding, focused on collecting all the charges. You noticed what he was doing and helped him, piling them up in a bundle in the green hoodie. 'Stay here' he said and ran out the door. Confused, you went back to the beds, praying everything was going to turn out alright. Several minutes later, you saw Dae-ho reentering and hiding himself away in one of the beds, holding his palms over his ears, visibly shaking. A second later, player 120 came after him, you could see them talking about something. You ran up to them and found out what had happened. As you put your arms around Dae-ho and he laid his head against your chest, new guards entered and started shooting at the ceiling. 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry', he kept repeating. You held him tightly, bracing yourself for whatever was coming next. 'Remember the cherry blossoms, we're safe and happy'.

[bernardsbendystraws]

Fresh Air

Matt Sturniolo x Reader

Check out my pinned post for more of my writing.

00 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 FINAL

Summary: One night at a party seems to change everything. A strange man with a friendly smile and a sleeve of patchwork tattoos seems to make you feel at home for a change. You're finally happy to have made a good friend to lean on - especially when it comes to your not-so-great relationship with your boyfriend. But what happens if you lean too much...what happens if you fall?

Warnings: 18+. This series contains mature themes, read at your own risk. (SMUT, angst, parental troubles, financial hardships, and more. Don't like, don't read.) This warning is made for all parts.

A/N: To be added to the taglist, send a request in my inbox or comment on the pinned post. I'm far more likely to see requests sent to my inbox.

With love and big tits, Rose.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

06: A Little Blurry...

Matt’s arms swarmed around me, the heat between our bodies under the covers making me feel like a puddle of comfort. Stripes of light peeking through the blinds made the calm aura only grow, my skin feeling as soft as ever as I feel his fingers start to twindle hazily on my bare lower stomach. 

The more and more conscious thoughts that seeped in, the more my bones started to vibrate under my skin. What did I do? Did that really happen? Did I…did I cheat on my boyfriend? 

“Morning, dollface.” His hum is spoken with a gruff voice. As my senses start to wake with panic, I let myself feel the dry warmth between our bodies. Was it all just a dream? Is that still cheating? 

“Um…morning,” I sigh, chaotic thoughts starting to calm as I let my body melt back into his embrace. 

If it was just a dream, I wouldn’t feel like this. It’s definitely still cheating. This can’t be okay - I just cheated on someone. Fuck. 

Matt seems to notice my anxious energy. “Are you okay? Did you not sleep good?” he asks, peering over my shoulder to look down at my face. 

But I just can’t look at him. 

“I need to go. I…I need to go now.” 

__________

Awkward and tense silence had infiltrated our normal relaxing drives as Matt dropped me off at my apartment. I couldn’t bring myself to explain, the mere thought of even saying such a thing out loud made me nauseous, it made my skin shrivel with disgust. 

I’m a cheater.

The one thing I never thought I’d say, the one thing that a younger version of me would be crushed to hear. 

He had told me to call him when I was ready to talk. But, what was there to talk about? I couldn’t even look at him without seeing the vicious guilt that poured down over my body like acid. It burned to know how utterly fucked I was - how my own stupidity had led to a mountain of grief and shame to deal with. 

I find myself clicking away at my phone until I reach her contact, tapping on the call button and bringing the phone up to my ear as I anxiously run my hand through my hair. “Hello?” Manon answers. My mouth opens and shuts, words stuck on the edge of my tongue as I feel my chest collapse harder and harder. 

“Could - could you, um,” the panic overrides my senses, words seeming harder to pull together as I let my fingers grip harder at my scalp. It hurts but at least I can feel it. And maybe I deserve the hurt too. 

“Are you okay? Hey,” she soothes, the jingling of keys projecting through the call as I hear her shuffle around, “-’m on my way. Take deep breaths, c’mon,” 

It’s like I can barely hear her. The urgency blasting about guilt and making decisions - it’s all too much. 

“-talked to…hello?” 

“I…can’t focus, I’m just - just - just panicking and I,” a cry fumbles from my lips as I clutch onto the thick fabric of the hoodie laying on my chest, almost as if I could try to claw the feeling out. 

“Breathe, I will be there soon, ke…” 

It’s like she just disappears. The subtle melody of her voice is heard, but no words are being processed in my brain - only guilt. 

I cheated on someone. 

I’m a cheater. 

I didn’t even deserve to be upset, but here I was, crumbling to the floor as I gripped onto Matt’s hoodie covering my body, the soft material starting to feel like a brutal exfoliant, only emphasizing that rotten disappointment echoing through my mind. 

Even imaging the look on Hayden’s face felt like death. Knowing that every time I’d look in the mirror, I’d be repulsed. 

And…knowing that I would never be able to look at Matt the same.

A/N: Thank you for reading. Any interaction is appreciated!!! I am hoping to get out weekly updates of this series. Let me know your thoughts <333

[musubi05]

╰┈➤ I'm Sorry Part 2

Sam Winchester x sister!reader

Dean Winchester x sister!reader

Summary: A hunt went wrong because you made a mistake and someone accidentally got hurt. You're 14-15.

Warnings: Yelling, mentions of blood, angsty

Authors note: Hopefully it's as good as the first one 😭 I was spacing out so much trying to write it so my brain was not braining.

The minutes stretched endlessly after Dean left, each second pressing down on your chest like a weight you couldn’t shake. The motel room was too quiet, yet your mind was screaming. You could still hear the gunshot, still see Sam’s body jerking from the impact, still feel the warmth of his blood against your hands.

Dean was right. You had almost lost Sam. And it was your fault.

Your hands were still trembling slightly as you sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the cracked wallpaper. The cheap floral print blurred as your eyes stung with unshed tears. Your fingers were stiff with dried blood—Sam’s blood—sticking in the creases of your knuckles, clinging to your skin like it was never going to come off.

You felt numb, but somehow still sick to your stomach. You forced yourself up to get into the shower, hoping it would help make you feel clean but it didn't. You had tried scrubbing the blood off, but no matter how raw you made your hands, the stain wouldn’t fade. Even though you saw a tint of red water go down the drain.

The faint sound of the clock ticking on the wall was maddening when you laid back down on the bed. Each second that passed felt heavier, heavier, and heavier. You wished Dean would just come back, even if it was to yell at you more. At least then you wouldn’t be stuck with your own thoughts.

The thoughts that were reminding you it was your fault. The thoughts that were telling you Sam was dead.

"The doctors couldn't save Sam," Dean would say. "It should be you not him." Which would lead you to listen to him and go sell your soul for Sam to be brought back.

Your hands curled into fists in your lap, nails biting into your palms, desperate for something—anything—to ground you. But nothing could distract you from the image of Sam collapsing. The dull look in his eyes. The blood pooling around him.

Your chest tightened, and before you could stop yourself, a broken sob slipped out. You clapped a hand over your mouth, squeezing your eyes shut, shoulders shaking as you struggled to contain it. You didn’t deserve to cry. Not when Sam was the one who got hurt. Not when Dean could barely look at you.

The door creaked open softly. You stiffened, expecting to see Dean storming in again, still angry, still ready to rip you apart with his words. You turned over to your other side to face him.

But it was Sam.

He was pale and unsteady on his feet, leaning against the doorframe for support. His face was still gaunt from the blood loss, and his bandaged torso was hidden beneath a loose flannel that was slightly too big for him. You realized with a twist in your chest that he must’ve signed himself out of the hospital early. Typical Winchester.

“Sam?” You shot up from the bed, rushing toward him, but he held up a weak hand to stop you.

“Hey,” he rasped softly, offering a tired smile. “I’m okay.”

You stared at him, stunned by stupid statement. He was shot. He was barely standing. He was not okay.

Without another word, you rushed to his side and slipped under his arm, helping him to the bed despite his half-hearted protests. You sat beside him, bracing his weight until he was lying back against the headboard with a heavy sigh.

“Did you seriously check yourself out?” you muttered, shaking your head.

Sam chuckled lightly, wincing as he shifted. “You know me.”

You swallowed, guilt twisting sharply in your gut again. He was trying to make light of it, to put you at ease. Of course he was. That was Sam. Always more worried about everyone else than himself.

For a long moment, you just stared at your hands, fingers still smeared faintly with his blood. The room was quiet, except for the sound of Sam’s slightly labored breathing.

“You should hate me,” you finally whispered.

Sam blinked, frowning slightly. “What?”

You glanced at him, barely able to meet his eyes. “You should hate me for what I did. For being so reckless. For getting you hurt,” your voice wavered, and you looked away quickly. “Dean does.”

Sam’s expression softened immediately. “Hey.” He reached over, grasping your hand weakly, his palm warm despite his shaky grip. “Dean doesn’t hate you. He’s just—”

“Mad. I know,” you cut in. “And he should be. You almost died because of me, Sam.” Your voice cracked, and you pulled your hand from his, not able to bear the gentleness in his touch.

Sam exhaled softly, watching you carefully. “I’m not dead,” he said quietly. “And I’m not gonna hate you, Y/N.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “You should.”

“Stop,” Sam insisted, his voice firmer this time. He reached for your hand again, his grip a little stronger now. “I’ve made mistakes, too. We all have. Hell, Dean’s made plenty of reckless calls that could’ve gotten me killed. And you know what I did?” He arched a tired eyebrow. “I forgave him. Just like I forgive you. That’s how this family works.”

You swallowed hard, unable to speak. Your eyes burned, and you quickly wiped at them with the sleeve of your hoodie. You didn’t deserve his forgiveness. Not this easily. Not after nearly losing him.

Sam squeezed your hand once before leaning back against the headboard, his eyes starting to droop with exhaustion. “You’re not a screw-up,” he muttered softly, voice thick with fatigue. “You saved our asses back there. Even if it wasn’t pretty.”

You stared at him, speechless, as he let out a slow, heavy breath and drifted into a light sleep. His chest rose and fell steadily, but the soft winces that flashed across his face with every breath made your stomach clench.

And then, as if on cue, the door creaked open again.

Dean walked in, still tense, his eyes immediately flickering toward Sam. His gaze softened slightly when he saw his brother sleeping peacefully, but when he turned his attention to you, the hardness in his eyes returned.

You met his gaze for only a second before quickly looking down at your hands again. You waited for him to say something—anything—but he just stood there, lingering near the door. The silence was suffocating.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Dean let out a long breath and slowly made his way over. His boots were heavy against the creaky floorboards. You felt him sit down beside you on the edge of the bed, but you still couldn’t look at him.

For a long moment, he said nothing. The tension hung in the air, thick and heavy.

Then, finally, his voice came—low and hoarse. “You scared the hell outta me.”

Your throat tightened. “I know,” you whispered.

Dean let out a shaky breath, rubbing a hand over his face. “I told you to stay in the car for a reason, Y/N.”

“I was trying to help—”

“I don’t care!” His voice cracked slightly, louder than he intended, and Sam stirred slightly.

"I don't care what you wanted!" Your dads voice echoed through your mind.

Dean immediately fell silent, waiting until Sam settled before speaking again. His voice was lower this time but still strained. “You could’ve died.”

You clenched your fists in your lap, your fingernails going back into your palms. “So could you.”

Dean’s eyes snapped to you. You turned to face him, blinking back the tears threatening to fall.

“I’m not gonna just sit back and watch you and Sam die,” you said quietly, your voice trembling slightly. “I can’t.”

Dean’s eyes softened slightly, but his expression was still pained. He swallowed hard, running a hand through his hair, and for the first time that night, you saw the fear behind his anger—the sheer terror that had been boiling beneath the surface.

“If something had happened to you…” He shook his head, voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t lose you, too.”

Your throat closed up, and without thinking, you reached out and grabbed his hand. His fingers curled around yours, warm and rough and calloused, but familiar. Safe.

For a long moment, neither of you said anything. You just sat there in the heavy silence, hands clasped together.

Finally, Dean’s voice came out quieter. Hoarse. “Just… don’t do that again, okay?”

You nodded slowly, gripping his hand a little tighter.

“I mean it,” he added, giving you a pointed look.

“I know.”

He let out a slow, shaky breath, then finally—finally—he squeezed your hand back. It wasn’t forgiveness. Not yet. But it was a start.

⛧

The room was dark and quiet, save for the sound of Sam’s slow, steady breathing. His chest rose and fell softly, the strain of pain still subtly etched in his face even in sleep.

After the talk with Dean, you both agreed to head to get some rest. Only problem is that you couldn't go to bed that easily. Dean was passed out on his bed while you were staring at the ceiling on the motel couch. Just... thinking.

You looked over at Sam and should’ve felt some relief that he was okay. That the bullet hadn’t hit anything vital. That he was still here, breathing, healing. But the weight in your chest hadn’t lifted. If anything, it had only grown heavier.

You looked back up at the ceiling but before you knew it, your eyes drifted out of focus, the edges of the room blurring into the shadows of the past.

~6 Years Ago~

The dingy motel room smelled like old cigarette smoke and mildew. The wallpaper was peeling at the corners, and the single flickering lamp barely cast enough light to chase away the shadows stretching across the walls.

You sat curled up on the bed, clutching your knees to your chest, your tiny fingers digging into the fabric of your jeans. Your heart pounded in your chest as you listened to the argument unfolding between John and Dean.

“I told you to watch her, Dean!” John’s voice was sharp, edged with frustration and exhaustion.

“I was watching her!” Dean stood his ground, jaw tight, shoulders squared even though his voice wavered slightly. “She was fine! I just went to grab the salt from the car, and—”

“She could’ve gotten killed,” John cut him off, voice like gravel. His eyes flicked toward you, pinning you to the bed like a spotlight. “And you—what were you thinking, running after that damn spirit?”

Tears burned at the back of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “I-I thought I could help,” you stammered, voice barely above a whisper.

John let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Help? You thought running in there, getting in the way, was helping?” He shook his head, pacing in front of you like he couldn’t even look at you. “You wanna be useful? Then learn your damn place.”

Your stomach twisted.

“You don’t fight, you don’t hunt, you don’t go running into danger,” John continued, his voice firm, unwavering. “You do what you’re told. You keep your head down. You help us—but you never get in the way.”

You swallowed hard, gripping the blanket beneath you with trembling fingers. “I just wanted to—”

“I don’t care what you wanted,” John snapped. “You listen. You wait. You help the way you’re supposed to.” He crouched down slightly, lowering his voice, but somehow that made it worse. “You wanna be part of this family? Then act like it.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you nodded quickly, desperate to make him stop looking at you like that.

John exhaled sharply and stood up, rubbing a hand over his face. He didn’t say anything else—just grabbed his duffel, muttered something to Dean about locking the doors, and walked out.

For a moment, the room was silent. The weight of his words still hung heavy in the air, pressing down on your chest.

Then, Dean sat down beside you on the bed.

“Hey,” he said softly, nudging your shoulder. His voice was tired, but not angry. Not like John’s. “You okay?”

You nodded quickly, blinking back the tears.

Dean was quiet for a long moment before he sighed, running a hand through his short hair. “Look… Dad’s just—he’s just stressed, alright? He doesn’t mean half the crap he says.”

But you both knew that wasn’t true.

Still, Dean shot you a small, lopsided smile. “You wanna help? You can help. Just… next time, maybe don’t go charging after a ghost with a damn broomstick, alright?”

Despite yourself, you let out a tiny, shaky laugh.

“Tell you what,” Dean continued, nudging you again. “Next hunt? You can be on water duty. Sam’s always forgetting to drink, anyway.”

You nodded, a small bit of warmth replacing the cold pit in your stomach. It wasn’t much—but it was something. A purpose. A way to help without getting in the way.

And that’s what you did. Every hunt. Every time. You made sure you were useful. You made sure you helped.

Because if you weren’t helping, what were you even doing here?

“Sweetheart?”

Dean’s voice pulled you out of the memory, bringing you crashing back to the dim motel room. Sam was still sleeping soundly. Dean was staring at you, brows furrowed, eyes scanning your face like he could see the ghosts haunting you. When did he get up?

You blinked quickly, clearing your throat. “Sorry. Just… thinking.”

Dean studied you for a second longer before exhaling. With no warning he scooped your body into his arms, lifting you up from your previous spot.

"Dean, what are you doing?" You asked immediately gripping his shirt do he didn't drop you—not like he ever would.

"Helping you sleep," he said, his voice was coated with exhaustion. Maybe helping you sleep will help him sleep better.

You didn't want to argue with him and say you're fine so you let him bring you over to his bed. He put you on the bed first before laying next to you.

Dean sighed, he put his arm around you to keep you close to his side. Your head was resting on his chest with your arm draped around his torso. “I'm sorry I keep yelling at you—” He stopped, jaw tightening, like he wasn’t sure how to say what he wanted to say. “I don’t want you to think that helping means running headfirst into danger, alright? You don’t have to prove anything to me. Or to Sam.”

Your breath hitched slightly. “I know.”

“Do you?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and unspoken. Do you really?

You hesitated, but after a long moment, you finally nodded. “I’m working on it.”

Dean didn’t look fully convinced, but he didn’t push. He just sighed again and nudged your arm lightly. “Good.”

For a long while, you both just laid there, the weight of the night still thick in the air—but for the first time, it didn’t feel like it was crushing you.

Dean wasn’t angry anymore. Sam was safe. And maybe—just maybe—you didn’t have to prove your worth by risking your life.

Maybe just being here was enough.

Tag list:

@marvelfanfn2187a113 @samlou

[rueclfer]

casual // touya todoroki part 2

when the boy you're in love with wants to keep it casual.

a/n: i was fighting for my life while writing this 😭 pray for her (and me while i write... part 3? HEHE)

part one part three

You made your way up the fire escape, the cold air and icy railing nipping at the bare skin of your neck and face for the short travel up a level.

From outside of his window, you took a second to admire the scene. Tenko was sitting criss crossed on the couch while cradling a beer in his lap, and directly across from him is Spinner on the ottoman with their switches out- in which you could only assume was playing super smash bros. Toga was at the kitchen bar taste testing Kurogiri's mixed drinks, and everyone else plus a few more unfamiliar faces were drunkenly draped over the couch, laughing at one another.

You continue peering around the room for Touya. No one else had noticed your presence outside the window quite yet.

"Looking for someone?" A deep voice snaps you from your search.

You look up to see Touya sitting on a step another level up.

"God, Touya." You shutter from the cold breeze. "What are you doing out here? It's freezing."

"Needed some air." He shrugs, crinkling a bottle of water in his hands. "Not going inside?"

You climb your way up to him, taking a seat right beside him. In the moonlight, his silver hair glowed blue, and at a closer look, the tip of his nose and cheeks were dusted with pink.

"Was just about to before you ambushed me." You smile at his tipsy state. "How much have you drank?" You pressed a hand to his cheek, making him melt into it from the warmth.

"Enough, and not enough at the same time." He chuckles, grabbing your remaining hand and pressing it against his other cheek.

"Fuck, you're warm." A sigh of relief escapes his lips.

"Can I kiss you?"

Fuck

You had just told Toga that you were done running in circles around him, but in this moment with the buzzing lamp post drilling into your head and his swollen lips mere inches from yours, it was almost an offer you couldn't turn down. Do you close the gap between you two and continue this charade or will you end it now?

In a perfect world, you wouldn't have to make this decision now- you wouldn't ever have to, but you loved him. Desperately.

You looked at him, deeply. His bloodshot and glossy eyes, an effect of the alcohol, were peering right into yours while waiting for your answer.

You could savor this forever- a rare moment where he's the one waiting for you.

After a beat of silence, he sensed your hesitation and leaned back, searching your face for an answer for your off behavior, because Touya knew that the answer would've always been a yes- undeniably so.

"What's wrong?"

I love you.

"Nothing." You force a reassuring smile. "Why?"

"I don't know. You looked like you were about to cry for a second there." He moves his hand to your face now, rubbing his ice cold thumbs against your cheek. "Maybe I'm just drunk." He smiles.

He pulls your head in to press a kiss on your hairline. "Also, I saw Fuyumi today. She said hey."

"I'll text her later." You couldn't help but feel a twinge of warmth knowing that you came up in conversation with his sister.

"Were you not gonna come tonight?"

"Hmmm I don't think so" You casually say "I was kinda busy, but the fomo was kicking."

"Works out in my favor." He chuckles. "You wanna go inside? Toga said she was expecting you."

He starts standing up, gripping onto the railing to stabilize himself. With his other hand, he extends it out for you.

"Yeah I owe her a shot. That is, if she's not already fucked up." You grab onto his hand and hoist yourself up.

"In that case, I'll cash in the shot in her place." He wraps his arm around your waist, helping you down the frosty steps.

Once you made it through the window, your body instantly warmed up with the thick air of the apartment. Across from the kitchen, Toga spots you and squeals to herself, motioning for you to come to her.

"Kurogiri's been showing me how to make drinks!" She grins, panning her arm to the array of mixed drinks and shots sitting on the counter.

"Christ, Toga who's going to drink all that?" Touya mutters behind you as he moves into the kitchen.

"Y/N and I, duh!" She rolls her eyes before passing you a glass with a shots worth of pale pink liquid.

You swallowed your hesitation and glanced over to Touya, who was leaning up against the refrigerator watching you with a slight smile.

Seeing his pretty face was not a good reminder for yourself as to why you were here in the first place. Nonetheless, you and Toga clink your glasses together and down the first shot.

You cough into your sleeve, letting the burn warm your skin and help settle into your nerves. You shoot her a warning glance when she slides another drink into your hands.

"Oh so you're trying to kill me tonight, huh?" You down the new drink, pinching your nose as the lukewarm liquid burns its way down your throat. You slide the empty glass to her just for her to replace it with more alcohol.

"If there's one way to cure a sad girl, it's alcohol." Toga clinks your glasses together before finishing off her's.

"I only promised you one shot!" You pushed the glass away. "I'm a lightweight, let me take a breather unless you want me on my ass in half an hour."

"Okay fine" She pouts. "Just finish this one and we'll stop."

You grimaced, but she shot you a knowing look. You needed this. You needed a night to not think and worry about repercussions later.

"Fuck you." You sigh, clinking your glass with her. "And I love you."

After the last shot, your head clouded and your skin went hot. You pulled out a bar stool to sit and propped your head in your hands, watching Toga and Kurogiri talk about the mixtures and types of alcohol they were experimenting with.

Maybe the last shot was overkill, but 3 shots in 5 minutes meant that you'll be sober in a couple hours? You hoped so, at least.

"If she starts throwing up, I'm gonna kick everyone out." Touya jokes.

"You think I'm done?" Toga starts. "Touya, you have to finish the rest of these drinks with me."

Touya kept his distance on the other side of the the kitchen, chatting and drinking with Kurogiri and Toga all while glancing your way every now and then.

You were confident that everyone in this apartment knew about your entanglement with Touya, but with any outings and functions, PDA and other romantic gestures were kept to a minimum. You kept your distance, but this last shot started to feel like you needed a moment alone with Touya.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

At some point when the alcohol had fully settled in your stomach, you decided to get up and wander around the apartment while everyone else was occupied.

You slowly go through the main hallway, looking at the framed band posters hung up that you had seen about a hundred times.

At the end of the hall, there was your favorite piece of decoration he had- a framed photo of him and his high school garage band at one of their practices. His hair was dyed midnight black and his jeans were all sorts of torn up and embellished with spikes and chains. Every time you came over, you had to look at it at least once. You always told him that you wished you met him at this age, and that he could've broken your heart, but he insists that he would've never been able to pull you in the first place.

You continue your walk, staying close to the wall to keep your balance before you finally made it to his bedroom. You step in and takes deep breath, savoring the crisp pine and green apple that lingered from his cologne.

If you had been sober, you probably wouldn't be bold enough to sneak off to his bedroom in the middle of the get together, but you were sure that he would rather you lay in his bed than the bathroom floor.

You flop down and close your eyes for a moment of solitude. You made a mental note to curse Toga out for getting you this tipsy when it was only supposed to be one drink.

"How did I know I could find you here?"

You instantly recognized the voice and the chuckle that paired with it.

"Shut up." You muttered, keeping your eyes closed. "If you didn't let me drink so much, I wouldn't have to crash here."

"So sorry, pretty girl. My fault." You feel the bed shift as he crawls onto the bed to sit beside you. "I brought something for you."

You open your eyes and sit up to see him holding out a red solo cup. You shoot him a glare.

"It's water, before you say anything."

You release a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

You downed the water in one go, letting the cold liquid bring you back to life. You lean over to set the empty cup on his bedside table before letting yourself lay back down. Touya follows suit, propping himself up on his elbow.

"You feeling okay?" He brings his hand up to your cheek, lightly brushing away stray hairs.

You nodded your head, letting yourself soak in his light touches. Looking up at him from this angle made your stomach twist. You reached up and held his hand on your cheek, letting your thumb brush over his knuckles.

"Can I have a kiss?" You turned towards him, propping yourself up to face him.

He smiles and leans in, pressing a soft and gentle kisses on your lips and cheeks.

"Should I kick everyone out?" He whispers between kisses. "Just you and me tonight. I'll take care of you."

"Aren't you drunk too?" You prop yourself up, leaning over him and making him fall back on the bed.

"Yeah but not multiple-shots-in-the-span-of-2-seconds drunk like you."

You drag your finger down his nose bridge, tracing it down to his lips where he gives your finger a kiss. You replace your finger with you own lips, letting your hand fall to cup the side of his neck.

"Say the word and all of those fuckers will be out of here." He silently mutters against your lips.

In your mind, you were screaming at yourself. You wanted the night with him, but you couldn't bear doing this to yourself anymore. Every night spent with him and watching him leave through your window made your self worth crumble bit by bit.

"Enticing offer." You smile, sitting upright now. "But I think I might have to throw up."

His eyes widen in fear. "And you're telling me this now?"

He sits up and hops off the bed, pulls you off with him by the arms. "Idiot. Sweet, beautiful idiot." He presses a kiss to your temple before ushering you to his bathroom.

He helps you kneel down in front of the toilet before running out to grab more water.

You sit there for a moment before dry heaving into the toilet a few times. Nothing. With every cough, you cringed at yourself. Here you were, at a party you didn't even want to go to, gagging in the bathroom of someone who doesn't love you back.

You knew you truly didn't have to throw up, maybe just gag it out a bit, but you mainly needed to step away from Touya to clear your mind. Tomorrow, when you would have to tell Toga about how you folded is going to be a whole separate issue for you after tonight.

In the corner of your eye, you saw a glistening black rectangular object lay next to his trash can. You reach over to grab it, revealing itself to be a tube of berry red lipstick. You felt sick to your stomach, but for a different reason now.

In your drunken state and the alcohol running through your veins, you felt yourself choking up with tears. You knew you weren't the only one, but now that it was right in your face, there was no more pretending that you were. God, how stupid you felt.

"Get it together, Y/N. It was never going to work out." You thought to yourself.

You began to stand up, stumbling while doing so. Right as you steady yourself on the the door frame, Touya comes back in with a glass of water in his hands.

"Done already?" He asked, peering over your shoulder to see the damage.

You say nothing and move around him to get pass He sets the glass down and grabs your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks.

"Where are you going?" His eyes widened once he see the tears streaming down your cheeks.

"What's wrong?" He says a bit quieter.

You choked out a laugh before showing him the object in your palm. "One of your girlfriends left this."

He gives you a puzzled look. "Okay? And you're upset over this? Why?"

"Are you serious, Touya? You're asking me why I'm upset over finding another girl's lipstick in your bathroom." You purse your lips,

He runs a hand through his hair, and releases a long sigh of air. "Y/N. This thing between us...it's casual. You know that. You can't get mad at me for that when we both agreed to it."

"Casual?" You spit back. "Is it casual that you're always coming to my window at 12am to fuck and talk about our futures? Is it casual when your siblings invite me over for dinner? Is it casual when you leave your front door open for me?" You exclaim. "It just doesn't make sense to me."

You storm out of his room to find that his apartment empty of your friends. He wasn't lying earlier, after all.

"Come on, Y/N." He follows you out "We were friends before anything else. In the beginning, Toga told me that you had a little crush on me, and I thought it was cute, but I didn't think it would turn out like this."

You make your way to the window, almost ready to jump out from embarrassment. A crush.. a little crush.

You rub your face in your hands. "You see, that's the problem, Touya. I think I'm in love with you, and you think I'm cute. Is it still casual?"

You step out onto the fire escape, and look back at him. This whole time you were avoiding his gaze, but there he was, his eyes wide and mouth gaped open watching you disappear from his fire escape for the last time.

tags: @bumblebeebutter @whitneys-favorite-slut @randomrosie01 @yuwuuta @raquel-star @the2ndl @vixendeery