#me writing this: *in tears* they are friends....

[bkgexe]

if all else fails, i was myself

bakugou x reader ✾ 4.6k

info! no smut sorry gang ✾ tw! trust issues that manifest as issues w physical intimacy/contact, dubcon in its vaguest definition (NOT bkg & reader) ✾ notes! ive been in perpetual writers block for months. is this trite idk. i miss my baby but anytime i write for him im like oops this is gonna be 60k words!!! so here is. a drabble lmao. also big lmao moment this is titled after count me out by kendrick lamar ldskfjdlkjf which was on repeat while writing so uh sorry mr. lamar abt the mha fanfic

katsuki has always known that part of him is wrong.

he’s never liked being touched. every kiss he’s experienced has made him tense as an elevator cable poised to snap. any attempt to go further than that has made him a little ill, made his gut feel like a stack of loose papers being torn to shreds, slow and loud.

it doesn’t help that he’s only ever had three kisses in his life: eijirou at a new year’s party (too many teeth), eijirou again at another new year’s party nearly a decade later (too much tongue), and then his fourth date with kyoka (when he tried to convince himself he just had to push through the discomfort to become normal).

things went further than that. it was a mistake. they both knew it right after it happened—kyoka first, and then katsuki after his head stopped pounding with what if i'm doing this wrong what if she's pitying me for fucking this up what if i don't know how to touch another person correctly what if i was supposed to learn at some point and i missed it how could i fucking miss it will it always be like this because i can't do this again i can't i don't—

“kat," she said after. she looked at him with something only a few degrees removed from pity, and poorly removed at that.

he attempted a halting non-apology. he attempted a real apology. failed at both.

"it's okay, you know," she said. "to not like it."

he scoffed even though he wasn’t entirely clear on what she meant by it, because there was so much he didn’t like. “i like it just fine.”

“if that was liking it, I’m honestly worried about your capacity for enjoying life in general.” it wasn’t a joke. her bluntness was something that'd made katsuki think he could push his boundaries with her. all of her thoughts were laid out plain for him to read, an open-source journal. “i'm just saying you don't have to like it. and you don’t have to force yourself to do things you don’t want to do. don't fuck yourself over for someone else's happiness.”

kyoka still texts him often, checks in, invites him to drinks with their friends. she’s kind. she’s normal. she doesn’t have this weird, shredded thing inside her that makes her balk at the idea of someone’s hand on her skin. that makes her think she's doing something wrong, even if she's not the one that initiated the touch.

when you started your job at the front desk of katsuki’s agency, he never thought that he'd be here, wishing above everything that he could just be normal. just for one fucking day, so he could laugh at your shitty jokes and maybe brush his knuckles across the back of your hand in passing and take you on a date where he could kiss you in his car after driving you home and the thought wouldn’t make his skin crawl, wouldn't tear up his insides to pulp.

because he fucked everything up. he's standing in his empty office where you'd been spending time with him and he fucked it up and hurt you and he's not sure how to unfuck it.

the thing is, he could grin and bear it. he could deal with the odd thing inside him that hates the contact and white-knuckle it through every kiss, every caress. but he’s never been a great actor. he wouldn’t be able to hide that from you.

(kyoka told him, years later, that it’s not that the sex itself wasn’t fine—what made it nearly unbearable for her was the fact that she could tell, only after it was too late, that being physically vulnerable with her pained him far more than he was willing to reveal.)

no one wants to feel like the person they’re with is grinning and bearing it. that they’re white-knuckling it through. katsuki knows this. he knows he’s basically a fucking virgin all but in title at thirty and that he’s got the personality of a dried-out fig you find in your fridge weeks after its last edible moments. he doesn't have much to offer.

but he walked into work one day and nodded at you, curt, a grimace on his face—and you smiled at him so kindly that his stomach twisted.

with you, it wasn't the feeling of something being torn apart. it was different, lighter. leaves wrenched into the sky by a strong breeze. still a kind of tearing, but different—less destructive.

he was wearing a deep carmine sweater his mom sent him in one of her bi-monthly care packages (as if he’s not an adult, and a pro-hero on top of that), and you said, “that’s such a nice color on you. is it new?”

there was that breeze inside his chest, strong, pulling at his bones. “yeah,” he grunted. then slowly, as if remembering how: “thanks.”

it was the attention, he thought at first, that piqued his interest. he wasn't used to it. people always watched him from afar, and he had fans online that were borderline obsessive, but people didn’t approach him. they didn’t say that’s such a nice color on you. they didn’t smile the way you smile.

he’s always had a shallow streak. it’s not like he doesn’t know this. it’s become a little muted over time, a little discouraged by the visible scarring on his face and body from his time in the field, but it’s never fully been eradicated. so it was simple, he thought. you paid him attention and stroked his ego, and he preened like a self-obsessed bird of paradise.

and then you started making these little origami whale sharks.

fucking stupid. it bothered him an annoying amount. you had a bunch at your desk, all different colors and sizes, some taped to your desktop monitor, some hung up with little pieces of string under the desk's storage overhang. you drew dots on the back of each one, a distinct spotted pattern that was unique for each shark. and you made them for everyone but him. eijirou bought you a pack of high quality origami paper and you made him his own fucking school, all with little faces, winking or surprised or angry, their wide paper mouths gaping and empty, the lines of their bodies pressed careful and sure.

he hated it. it was annoying and a waste of company time and he usually didn’t ever use dumb corporate slogans like “a waste of company time” but you were really pushing his fucking limits.

it was definitely just the attention he liked, he told himself, because surely someone doing something as dumb as this would annoy him to no fucking end if he spoke to them.

and then he spoke to you and he was wrong.

he asked why you made the damn things in the first place and you told him, “i like whale sharks. but to be totally honest, i just run out of things to do."

and he saw that as a challenge. you were running out of things to do? rest assured he could find more shit for you to take care of. so he did. tasks that he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy, they were so dull and time-consuming. and you were so achingly competent that it drove him up a fucking wall. you completed everything he asked of you in half the time it would take someone else, and you always reported back with a smile, and you always did good work, and he could see himself having a conversation with you about something other than work but he didn't want to try because he was worried he'd begin to like you as a person.

you're pretty. really fucking pretty. he can see that now, and he sure as fuck saw it then. you're hardworking. you're just likeable, and that's something katsuki had never been. it (reluctantly) impressed him. worse than that, it turned his feelings for you into a sort of interest.

but he knows he's not normal when it comes to things like this.

he tried to distance himself from you because of it, but it turns out that asking someone to do work for you means you do have to speak to them sometimes. and sometimes turned into a lot of times.

sometimes turned into bringing him coffee in the morning, not because he asked you to, but because you're sweet like that. sometimes turned into being the person he bounced ideas off of when he had a board meeting coming up or something otherwise boring and meticulous. sometimes turned into you laughing at his prickly comments rather than going quiet because of them. turned into you saying suck it up, dynamight, this is what it means to be the boss when he complained about doing paperwork.

sometimes turned into staying late with him at the office, getting take out for the two of you to share while you finished filing claims and damage reports and other stuff he hated taking care of by himself. sometimes turned into him asking you to stay late just because he wanted you there. because even when he was quiet, you'd tell him about your day, about things that happened in the office, about how much you like the book you'd both been reading. he loved listening to you talk. felt comfortable enough to tell you things about himself when he'd never felt comfortable doing that before.

sometimes turned into you holding out a piece of fried tofu from your take-out container for him to eat while he was approving time-off forms that he should have looked at much earlier that week, and you being so close that he could notice how good you smelled, and the warmth of your body basically radiated towards him, like all your energy was focused on him, and your smile was small but somehow even more lovely than usual, a secret for him to tuck away and keep, and when you finished feeding him and he had a little sauce on the corner of his mouth and you reached forward to wipe it off for him and your hand lingered there for a moment and your eyes fell to his lips and what if you try to kiss me and i'm wrong and you hate me for it and what if i can't give you what you want and what if i'm not actually what you want what if i've disappointed you already what if—

it was too much.

so he fucked it up. your thumb was so soft against his skin. he reeled backwards in his chair, rolling it whole feet clear of you, and he felt the tearing again, the bad kind, like paper unevenly shredded by clumsy hands, and he had to leave. he had to leave. he needed to leave so badly that it felt like pulling his skin off would be preferable to being in that office with you.

hiding in the bathroom was fucking pitiful. he remembered his breathing exercises. he remembered to ground himself. and when he came back to his office, you were gone.

if he was normal—and he wants to be normal, god fucking damn—he could have stomached your proximity. he could have eaten out of your fucking hand. he could have touched you back like a normal person probably would have and he wouldn't be here, alone, looking at a little purple sticky note you left him that says i finished organizing the pto forms. i hope you feel better!

he doesn't know whose pride you're trying to save with that. as if you didn't leave because he made things so fucking awkward by running away from you when you touched him. when you—maybe, if he was reading the room correctly—were about to kiss him.

and you don't speak to him for days. he doesn't want to push so he doesn't—just watches you out of the corner of his eye whenever you're both in the same room, which is arguably worse. he's not sure. he's just itching to fucking talk to you because he misses it.

he misses you. in a more-than-friends way.

it takes a while for him to realize this. when he does, it hits him like a metal rod up the side of the head. it's fucked up of him to miss you the way he does when he doesn't feel like he can provide you with the things a normal person could. and though he's worked on his patience over the years—worked on understanding that he can't have everything he wants—it doesn't stop him from being selfish and finally pulling you aside to talk.

and baffling as fucking ever, the first thing you say is sorry. "i know i should've talked to you about it earlier. i just—i shouldn't have done that. and i know it. i shouldn't have assumed that—i don't know. that you..."

you look helpless. it's one of the very few times that katsuki has ever felt the compulsion to touch someone. not because he wants the touch, per se, but because he wants to be able to provide comfort. he never figured out how to do that with words. he's so focused on his inability to comfort you that he barely has any idea of what you're actually talking about. instead of doing anything at all, he just stands there like a fuckwad.

"i just want you to know that i would never—like never—have touched you, or tried to... if i didn't think there was like, a vibe?" you shake your head, exasperated with yourself. "god, even that sounds so bad. i'm sorry, i just—"

"wait, what are—?" and then it clicks, because he's been slow on the uptake figuring out his shit when he should have been focusing way more on yours. "there was..." katsuki says, and he fucking hates that he can't find better words for what you were both feeling in his office, "a vibe."

the way your face changes when you're flustered is one of katsuki's favorite things, but it's not as enjoyable when he feels just as flustered as you look. "i—oh? so... so you—?"

his ears feel like they're being attacked by two heated straightening irons and he knows they're red as hell right now. he's gonna have to say this plainly even though he'd rather get his teeth pulled out one by one with a pair of pliers. "it's not you."

your expression loses any sort of hope it once held. you press your lips together and sigh, maybe a little exasperated. he's doing his best here but he knows his best is shit. "i can handle a non-cliché rejection," you tell him. "honestly, i'd prefer a non-cliché rejection—"

"i'm not trying to reject you," he says, and it's selfish of him. because he's really not. he isn't comfortable with the things you'd want from him, but he still wants you in some capacity. "i just don't—do shit like that."

"kissing?"

somehow knowing for sure that you did want to kiss him in his office makes him want you more. he likes that you're bold. he likes that you're not ashamed of that. he wants to be different than he is. "any... of it," he struggles to admit.

"at all?"

he nods.

"just—like touching, and stuff?"

it sounds so juvenile that he can't help but laugh through his nose, roll his eyes. "yeah. touching and stuff."

"oh."

you're disappointed. of course you are. it's not like he expected anything different, but—sometimes he fucking hates his life. hates that he can't be the thing people need him to be. hates that trying is so difficult, that it flings his stomach into space, like a throwing stone skipping across a still lake.

"so you don't go on dates, or anything."

"haven't tried."

"do you not want to?" you ask, and he can tell it's more of a genuine question than anything. you're curious about him, like you always are. it's more than he deserves, for all he can offer.

"doesn't make sense to."

"that's not what i asked."

it's not. and so katsuki listens as you ask your question again, and he really takes a moment to think.

considering the answer to your question leads him to his first date with you. and his second, and his third—his fourth, and he's keenly aware that his last fourth date ended with what he expects all dates are supposed to end with.

he takes you to the aquarium. because of all the fucking origami whale sharks. you still haven't given him one and it sticks in his craw like a bone. in front of the backlit tank that holds sharks of all types, shapes and sizes and teeth he's never pictured possible of a living creature before, he asks, "why sharks?"

you look at him, brow raised. "i don't know. they probably needed the biggest tank in the aquarium. and this looks like the biggest tank."

"no, dumbass—your sharks. the ones all over the fuckin' office."

"what, you don't like them?" you ask, but you're smiling, sly.

he shrugs. he thinks they're dumb as hell. he wants one to hang up at work, like the ones you've got hung up at your desk. "they're whatever. they clutter the fuck out of ei's office. and he's already got issues organizing." you've just made eijirou so many at his point, and it's getting ridiculous. "but what—are they easy to make, or something?"

you laugh a little. "no. not at all, actually." a whale shark swims by, its spotted hide shimmering in the tank's eerie blue lighting, and you watch it intently. "but it'd be boring if it was too easy."

this date ends with him walking you home from the aquarium a few blocks from your apartment and you smiling at him and telling him that you had a really great time, and he feels like a fucking freak because you don't even expect more. you don't wait for a kiss. don't look disappointed that he doesn't try to give you one. the way you look at him holds so much affection that he doesn't deserve and he has no idea how to reciprocate it to you, and somehow he lands on, "make me one."

"one what?" you ask, but he thinks you already know what he's asking. you like to play coy. he likes it when you play coy. when you're enjoying yourself.

"one of your little fuckin' paper things," he mutters, because admitting that he wants one of those dumbass sharks feels somehow demeaning. he doesn't want you to know how much he's wanted one. "ei's got a million of 'em."

your hand was on your door handle, but it falls to your side. he's keenly aware of its proximity to him. he doesn't feel that terrible ripping in his gut and its absence is almost frightening to him. your fingers tighten into a fist. it's cold out. "ah, and you're jealous?"

"no," he says, knee-jerk. "i just don't get why everyone gets one but me."

you smile when he says this and he could live in this image of you, delicate and small and made for him. he goes home and thinks about it until he falls asleep. thinks about it even beyond then, feels that strong breeze inside him tearing every leaf from its grounded perch.

here's the thing—nothing against jirou, but unlike his other fourth date, this one was enjoyable. more than. he loved watching you be amazed by the size of the whale sharks, and he loved watching you put a bunch of coins into the penny press and cranking the machine until one was squeezed out into the pattern you wanted, and he loved watching you lay your hand against the glass where the rubbery wings of a flood of stingrays battled for your attention, and—

he loved watching you. that's weird, right? he sounds like a fucking lunatic thinking that.

but he does. he hadn't realized until now how difficult it had been not only to touch people, but to look at them. maintaining eye contact, watching someone do a simple task out of interest instead of staring them down in an attempt to intimidate them. he's so much more fucked up than he thought but what makes it bearable is that he can do it with you. he can watch the way you enjoy things and feel like he's not intruding on something he shouldn't. without even trying, you make him feel welcome—wanted.

that's it. you make him feel wanted.

the realization affects him in a way he doesn't understand. at work the next day, when you smile at him over the top of the front desk, he feels something incredibly strong—something like instinct—that tells him to touch you. small. a thumb brushed across your cheek. his fingers grazing yours. he wants it in a way that can't be right because he's never wanted to touch someone like this.

he doesn't do it, but he thinks about it all day. your little smiles when you notice him watching you on your dates, the way your fingers graze your lips when you cover your laugh, the softness in the way you regard him. you're quiet, reserved, but when you laugh you laugh hard. he wants your soft, your quiet and your loud, he wants the feeling of your fingers on his lips, he wants your smallest smiles, all things he wishes he could fold up and keep and later display somewhere he can always see them. a school of paper fish, gaping mouths and drawn-on spots and such carefully pressed lines.

so on the eleventh date—(he knows it's ridiculous to count, but he's never spent this much time with one person before, not like this)—he reaches for your hand when you're walking alongside the bay, the air turning cold in the wake of the sunset that the two of you had just witnessed. that's romantic, you'd teased when he asked you to watch it with him. he'd rolled his eyes, shrugged you off.

but maybe he wanted it to be romantic. maybe he wanted to make this as normal as possible for you because nothing has been normal between the two of you so far.

you pull back when he reaches for you, as if on instinct. look up at him, confused, when he reaches out again. "katsuki..." you say, and it sounds as if he's done something wrong.

he tries not to let his brain spiral but thoughts drip inwards. water meeting a dented hull. what has he done this time? what else has he fucked up by being fundamentally wrong?

"you know..." you start, and you lose your words.

he thinks of kyoka, years ago. it's okay, you know. to not like it. he wonders if you'll still text him like she does.

your lips pull into a frown before you speak and katsuki can't breathe. "i was never gonna ask on my own because i know you don't like talking about things like this if you don't bring it up. but—um. katsuki—do you think i expect something from you?"

"huh?" he asks, dumb. breathing is still something he fails to do.

"i know that this is—different. i know you have some things going on that make the physical part hard for you." you look up at him so earnestly, and he loves looking at you. he loves looking at you and doesn't want to have to stop and he's worried that this is it. the moment he'll have to stop. you try to smile and it's small and he wants it all for himself. careful. delicate. secret, for him. "i'm not gonna lie to you. i don't know what a relationship without that kind of stuff looks like. but that doesn't mean i'm not willing to find out. it's—i don't need you to try to do something you think i want you to do."

"i'm not."

"it makes me feel a little sick, kat. honestly. it makes me feel like, i don't know—like i'm taking advantage of you, or something—"

"you're not."

"you don't have to do things like that to keep me around." you look flustered, eyes darting from his face to the skyline. "if you want me, i'm—you know."

it's okay, you know. "i don't know."

"i'm yours," you say, and cringe immediately at your words. "or like—i could be, you know, kind of whatever you wanted, if you—if that's what you want. would want."

katsuki can only remember a few times when his head was this quiet in the presence of someone else. when he trusted someone enough to let his mind go blank, to let himself act on instinct. "can i kiss you?"

you sigh. "this is what i was saying. i don't want you to—"

"no," he says, quiet, and he's closer to you than he's ever been. he likes the way you smell. he's not gonna apologize if that's weird. "i just want—god, i feel pathetic asking again. can i just—?"

just, just, just. just a touch, just a kiss, just a moment of your fucking time—it's all he wants. and he's never wanted like this. he's never trusted like this. his head has never quieted entirely because he's so sure that he's not going to disappoint you, or be something you don't actually want, or be wrong.

you've shown him that he can't be wrong with you, regardless of whether or not something within him is broken.

your lips are warm, a little chapped from the dry air, and he tries to remember what kissing chastely is but it's like something breaks in him further the second the two of you touch. his hands are cradling your face, his tongue is gliding against your tongue, his teeth are clacking against your teeth, and he knows the kiss is bad and wrong and messy but he suddenly needs it. he needs to feel you.

you make a noise against him and worry slices into his stomach before he realizes it's a quiet, breathy moan, and maybe you've been okay without the touch but that doesn't mean you don't enjoy it when you receive it. he can tell he hasn't made his boundaries clear enough—your hands circle his wrists, too cautious to go further, too hesitant to grip him like he thinks you want to. like he wants you to want to.

his teeth hit yours again and you laugh, and he pulls back, stomach tight. there's a hope in him that's ready to be torn.

you see it in his face—the fear. "i love kissing you," you blurt out, as if it's the only reassurance you can think of in the moment. "i mean—you're just." you laugh again, and he realizes it's nerves. you're just as nervous as he is. "can i—can we go somewhere warm? and maybe do this more? or—if this was enough—"

he's pulling you towards his apartment before you can get another word out.

kissing you is easy because you make him feel like it's relatively new for you as well. maybe that's how it feels for everyone every time, but he wouldn't know. he just feels comfortable with you. like you're not so much better than him, like you're not waiting to laugh at him when he fucks up, like you're touching him because you really want to.

so he takes you to his apartment and puts you on his couch and kisses you until your back is against the armrest and he's looming over you and you feel comfortable enough that your hands stray from his wrists to his shoulders to his hair and he didn't even know touching someone could feel like this.

put aside the fact that he's nearly finished in his fucking jeans three times just from your fingers running across his back, from the way you cup his cheek when he pulls back for air because he keeps forgetting to breathe—just having you close is intoxicating. he wants to bury his face in the curve of your shoulder, he wants to bite marks into your skin that'll stay vibrant for weeks, he wants to etch himself into you so deeply that he doesn't have to leave. these wants aren't even sexual—it's something about having you be his. i'm yours, you'd told him, and he hadn't even known that it would be exactly what he needed to hear.

he's in love with you, which isn't shocking to him, but he knows he shouldn't be in love with you yet because people that aren't fucked up in the head don't feel shit like this so quickly. he's not gonna tell you this for a very long time, but he knows—so completely and confidently—that he will reach a point when he can tell you.

"you sure you want this?" he asks, breathy, between kisses.

you stop kissing him, brows raised in surprise. "katsuki, we don't... this is a lot for one night. we can take it slow, still."

"that's—i'm not talking about that." he gives in, then—lets himself bury his face in the crook of your neck, lets himself breathe in deep, lets himself find your hands and intertwine your fingers, and you can probably feel that he's hard as fucking metal for you but that's not what's important right now. it sure as hell makes it awkward to try to have a serious conversation, though. "you sure you wanna deal with all... you know. my stuff."

"are you sure you wanna deal with all of my stuff?" you counter, and he pulls back to look at you. kissed rotten and smiling. "of course i want to deal with it. i like you."

and he likes you too. god, he likes you so fucking much.

the next morning, long after you've left for home, he finds a little orange whale shark hidden behind the alarm clock on his bedside table, stars in the place of eyes, and the trace of you is enough to make him feel warm. to hope that over time his apartment becomes full of the little paper creatures until his home is its own aquarium, until everywhere he looks is a memory of all you've brought him—pieces of you, perfectly arranged and delicately folded by your careful hands, much too gentle to tear.

[haologram]

stairway to the stars ☆ l.jh [m]

⤷ part of 'a very seventeen christmas' secret santa event! synopsis: your husband has always been supportive of your dreams - from the sidelines. he stays to himself, he keeps his mouth shut. it's you that can't stop running yours when your co-star is all over him. genre: established relationship au, tiny bit of angst, fluff, smut? pairing: husband!lee jihoon x actress!fem!reader word count: 1.5k...it pained me to stop it here. rating: 18+. minors do not interact. warnings: mentions of jealousy, ideation of infidelity, general relationship dynamics. clit play, kissing, in the backseat...you know the vibes. what to listen to: stargirl interlude - the weeknd, lana del rey ; never lose me - flo milli ; the boy is mine - monica, brandy. author's note: hi baby @monamipencil ♡ i hope you enjoy my little segment for you! i did 1000% pull this out of thin air but please let me know if there is ever anything else i can write for you. much love from your secret santa. ♡

"Don't forget about me, sweetheart." It was one of the few phrases your husband burned in your brain when your career really started taking off. He'd only been your boyfriend then, trying his hardest to prove himself worthy of your affections and time. You promised you wouldn't, over shared bottles of heady Cabernet and stolen kisses. The following years proved most difficult – from fighting over not spending enough time together because of your jobs, to vacationing for months on end without repercussions – you were rising to the top way too fast for him to wrap his head around it.

But never once did his love, loyalty, or respect for you falter. He watched quietly from the sidelines, silently supportive of all your endeavors. He'd grimace inwardly a bit if your lipstick stained anyone else's lips on the big screen, he'd clear his throat one too many times if you shed any tears during a scene. He held your waist at events, a silent reminder that your ascend up the stairway to the stars was in good company.

When you finally got a bit of time for yourself, he made it his priority to become someone more permanent in your life. With eyes that never strayed and a heart that only beat for you, he proposed softly as the two of you took a midnight stroll for the first time in a long time. He apologized for not making it something grand, promising your wedding would be to die for and he'd pull every string possible to give you the honeymoon of your dreams – only for you to stop his rambling with a teary kiss to his lips. Telling your friends the news of the proposal was an exciting feat, until it fell on the ears of multiple of your co-stars. You hadn't ever even spoken of a boyfriend (you had, they just didn't remember), and a few of the men you'd worked with questioned the validity of your engagement, of your relationship – and it eventually got back to Jihoon. Whispers of the startup CEO dating an actress filled his office, side-eyed glances made him uneasy in his own skin and he hated it – he hated that people wouldn't mind their own business.

Needless to say, it pissed him off. He'd never been openly possessive, but a part of him knew that neither of you had an issue understanding where you stood in each other's lives. From dating, to girlfriend, to wife – you'd always been open about who Jihoon was to you and what his presence meant. You never shied away from answering his questions if any, and you proudly presented him as your significant other if he managed to attend any of your events. This alone was enough for the two of you to realize that people in your industry didn't take relationships too seriously, and enough for you to hard-launch your relationship by posting your wedding photos on social media.

The industry did not like that, but you didn't care. You and your agent continued to book role after role, your husband continuing to grow his business and make a name for himself in the world of music production…a stepping stone for him, and the first moment of blood-boiling jealousy you'd ever experienced at the side of Lee Jihoon.

Her hand was on his shoulder as they spoke music, and he swiftly moved out of her grasp, sure. The dance floor was full of couples, a dance floor you'd intended to whisk him onto after reapplying your lipstick in the washroom. Someone Like You by Van Morrison played as you stood a few feet away, your face contorted in a fit of envy as you saw your husband push her hand away, the words I'm married, please don't touch me falling from his lips. The woman grimaced – the same woman you'd starred alongside for three seasons of the very same show you were all celebrating a renewal for tonight – and she shrugged her shoulders, before the dreaded words fell from her own red lips.

"So? She doesn't have to know."

Jihoon looked taken aback, and it was almost like he was a moth drawn to a flame – his eyes landed on you, and the way your jaw was tight with anger as you made your way over.

"Soyoung, nice to see you. Did you lose something here, dearest?" You speak softly, staring at your co-star with eyes of fire. She gave you a sleazy smirk, shaking her head. "Not at all, Y/N. Enjoying the party?" "It's lovely, isn't it? Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm feeling a bit under the weather." You gave her a tight smile, your hand wrapping around Jihoon's wrist watch as you pulled him away. He'd never seen you in such a state, eager to get him out of the venue and into the backseat of the black car waiting for you. Your arms were crossed as you sat facing away from him, before he made eye contact with the driver. He raised his brow, and the driver nodded, swiftly raising the partition as Jihoon turned to face you.

"Something bothering you, sweetheart?" He saw the way your shoulders tensed under the wine red straps of your dress, your legs crossed at the knee baring the skin of your thigh under the slit of the skirt. You gave him a glance through the corner of your eye, your lip jutted out in a pout as he cooed at you, making you huff in embarrassment.

"I don't like her." You mutter, "I don't like what she said and I don't like how she was all over you. She's literally my co-star. She knows we're married." "As much as I like your little pout and think you're adorable, I don't like that you're upset. You know I'd never wrong you, especially not like that." He tilts his head at you, making you pinch the bridge of your nose. "I know, Ji. I know." He's not satisfied with your answer, his hand reaching over to graze your knee, biting back his smile at the way your shoulders lose their tension at his touch. Your jaw remains tight, shaking your head in disbelief. "We've been co-stars for three years. You'd think she'd have some fucking respect for me." You were always so calm and collected, never too outwardly expressive of your disdain for people or their actions. He feels almost guilty for the growing tightness in his pants as you click your tongue, facing him as his fingers trace circles into your skin. "You're literally my husband. That's how I introduced you. My husband, Jihoon. Not Lee Jihoon, not the CEO of Ruby Productions, my husband. She's so shameless, I almost pity her." You tongue your cheek with a humorless laugh, and he can't help but feel his cheeks heat at the visual. He's silent as you run a hand through your hair, your earrings swinging as you shake your head again, giving him a pitiful smile.

"I'm sorry, I know this is out of character." You sigh, leaning your head on his shoulder. He nods, shifting slightly as your hand splays across his thigh. You press a kiss to his cheek, stamping your lipstick on his pale skin when you notice the flush on his cheeks. He clears his throat as you stare at him, a look of disbelief glossing over your eyes as you gape at him.

"You liked it?" "In my defense, you're hot when you're mad." He scoffs embarrassedly, making you huff out a laugh. "Jihoon." "I'm sorry." He presses a kiss to your temple as you roll your eyes. "Are you?" "No." He smiles against your skin, and you feel your cheeks heat as he trails his lips down your neck. "I love you, sweetheart. Just you." "I know, Ji." You sigh, feeling a bit of heat pool in your lower belly as he nips at your shoulder with a hum. "I don't think you do. Maybe I should remind you." Your cheeks grow hot as he gently pulls your thigh over his, his teeth nipping at the shell of your ear as he snaps the waistband of your underwear against your hip. "Now you know how I feel. Everyone always has their hands all over you, like you're not spoken for." You shudder as he slips his fingers under the cotton fabric, smirking against your skin as your hand wraps around his watch. You bite down on your lip as his finger traces your clit, your nails barely digging into his wrist. "Ji, not here." Your body betrays your words, your grip on his wrist loosening as he pulls your thigh higher on his lap. "Why? Aren't you mine?" His voice is sultry as you shiver against him, slim fingers collecting your arousal while he nips at your ear.

"Yes, but-" "Oh, there's a but?" He slides a finger inside you easily, your words getting caught in your throat as you whimper. "Hoonie…" "Tell you what, pretty." He slips his hand out as the car slows to stop, the front of the hotel you're staying at coming into view. "We're going to go upstairs and you're gonna take this dress off for me, and I'll show you who the brightest star in my sky is. Go."

You nearly stumble as your husband walks out behind you, his arm wrapping around your waist as he bids the driver goodbye. You feel his teeth on your shoulder, his voice low as he speaks into your ear.

“And keep those heels on for me."

haologram © 2024 || no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

[sadprose-auroras]

'Dulcissima' - Lucius Verus x Fem!Reader SMUT

dulcissima: Latin; my sweetest

A/N: My god. I saw Gladiator 2 yesterday, and this utter filth just came pouring out of me. A major shoutout to everyone who has BEEN writing for this character, I just had to contribute my little part. Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

Also take a shot every time I mention his big blue eyes and massive arms like hello I'm sorryyyy can you blame me!!! Also it starts off a bit shaky but trust me stick with it! I just can't not have some kind of backstory y'know

Word count: 3.3k

CONTENT WARNINGS: smut, breeding kink, brief size kink, cumplay, vague oral fixation, brief mentions of colonisation and injury

RATING: 18+. By clicking 'read more,' you are confirming that you are 18+

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

Pressing the cloth against his skin made him wince, the muscles in his arm jump, and though you typically would not, you pulled it away.

“I’m sorry, but I must,” you said gently, and it occurred to him that nobody had treated him with such humanity and sweetness in such a long time. “It will be over soon.”

You continued to clean his wound as gently as possible, trying to ignore the heat emanating off his body simply due to your proximity. To distract him, you decided to make conversation. You were no stranger to what it felt like to be a slave. For your home to be destroyed, to be dehumanised in such a monstrous way.

“Hanno, where is your home?” you ask, as you continue to work.

“My home no longer exists,” he said with a level of defensiveness, eyes lowering to the floor. “Not as it once did.”

“My ancestral lineage hail from Aduatuci. My parents, my parents’ parents, have all been slaves. We do not know any different,” you said. “But I have dreams of a free Rome, one of hope. I have heard of it, and I know it can exist. If not for myself, then maybe for my future children.”

The lilt of hope in your voice softened his shoulders immediately, and he finally made eye contact with you.

“Numidia. Numidia was my home. I was taken as a slave as they took our land. I will not know peace until I see the world you speak of.” You nodded with understanding, carefully placing your hand on his knee. His demeanour was completely different to the survival instincts you witnessed in the stadium. He was kind, gentle.

“I believe we can fight for that kind of world,” you reassured.

Once you finished tending to him, you gathered your supplies and stood up to leave.

“May the Gods bless you, Hanno,” you said. He reached out to grab your hand as you turned to leave, a lightning bolt of electricity shooting through you. You turned back.

“Wait,” he said, letting your hand go. “Will you come and see me tonight? Please? I could do with some company.” The vulnerability in his bright eyes made your heart melt.

“Of course.”

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

Somehow, yourself and Hanno developed a bond. It became a cycle. Each time he was forced into the arena, you watched with a pit in your stomach, tears welling in your eyes. Each time he was victorious, the relief that flooded through you was incomparable. Afterwards, you would tend to his wounds, talking about your hopes and dreams for the future. He would speak of his life back home, tell you all about his childhood and his father.

Each night, you would sneak into his cell to talk more. It had dawned on you that he was your only friend. The only person who had ever understood you.

One night after a horrifying battle in the arena, you snuck in to see him. Drawing your hood down, you nodded to the guard at the door who allowed you through. He had also become an ally to you both, closing the door behind you and moving away to give you some privacy.

Hanno, or Lucius, as he had recently revealed to you was his name by birth, was sitting with his hands clasped together, gazing thoughtfully at the floor, a crease between his brows. When he saw you, his leg ceased shaking and he stood up to embrace you. His strong arms engulfed you, and you immediately relaxed at the familiar feeling. The prospect of losing the familiarity between you was becoming more and more frightening to you. An air of heaviness clouded this particular visit. It felt different this time.

“I am so happy to see you,” he breathed out, pulling away, caressing your arm. Casual touches between you were comfortable and common, especially considering you were required to touch him all the time when tending to his injuries. And yet, every single time, a shiver ran down your spine. Likewise, every time he pulled away, you could feel yourself physically tense once again. He made you feel like you could breathe.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” you murmured, your bottom lip trembling, with what you weren’t entirely sure. It was like every time you saw him, your inhibitions were lowered more and more. You spoke without thinking, acted without speaking. It was dangerous.

“Oh now, dulcissima.” His hand caught at your chin, raising your head to look at him. Your heart immediately began racing rapidly, face flushing. The endearing term all the permission you finally needed, you gently cupped his face, gazing into his stark blue eyes, his long lashes. They stood out against the dirt on his face, the stained red blood smeared across his forehead. A shiver ran through you as his eyes flickered in pleasure.

“Han-“ you began. “Lucius,” you settled on for now. You could never decide what to call him. Either way, he was still the same. Strong, tender, solid, beautiful. Yours.

“I will always be yours, can you not see? This life and the next. You cannot lose me.”  

Unable to come up with any eloquent answer, you decided actions were more powerful. As if your lips had a mind of their own, you raised up ever so slightly on your toes to kiss him, your lips slotting together perfectly. His kiss was soft and gentle as you tested out the feeling with one another, his hands moving to protectively cup the sides of your face, thumb stroking your cheek making you exhale through your nose. Your lips explored his, moving together in perfect harmony, coming up for air every few moments.

Your head was spinning with desire, everything else in the world fell away when he kissed you. His hands had moved into your hair, fingers threading through it, not quite pulling. Your hands seemed to have a mind of their own, running all over his bare back, sides and chest. The feeling of the hard muscle underneath your fingertips, especially when you could feel it jump with sensitivity, made you want to lick your wet tongue all over his body. You wanted, needed, to devour every inch of him.

Hanno’s kisses grew hungrier by the minute, hands massaging and tugging your hair now, pulling it free from its style. You moaned into his mouth, which made him pull away for a moment and press a finger to your lips.

“You must be quiet, dulcissima.” You fought the urge to buckle your knees at the sound of such a sweet term in his rough voice.

“I know,” you murmured against his finger, absentmindedly scratching your nails down his back as you spoke, revelling in the way his mouth opened slightly at the feeling, eyelashes fluttering. “I will be, I promise.”

“Do you?” he asked, finger now teasing at the entrance of your mouth. You nodded ever so slightly, taking his finger in your mouth, swirling it with your tongue. You closed your eyes, coating his finger in wetness, moving your mouth up and down exploringly.

“Mmmhmm,” you moaned as an answer around his finger. The way he was watching you with hooded eyes, bottom lip taken between his teeth, was making the wetness pooling between your thighs impossible to ignore. He gazed at you as if you hung the stars, as if you were a goddess he was worshipping.

You took your mouth off his finger with a pop, and he began to trace it down your throat slowly, leaving a trail of your own spit. You trembled under his touch, lifting your chin to allow him more access. He reached the swell of your breasts, continuing down between them. You pushed your garments down off your shoulders, arched your back to close the gap between you, chest heaving in desperation. You would feel pathetic if it was anybody else. But he made you feel so safe. You could completely be yourself, express your desires.

“My Lucius, my strong one, please,” you breathed, hungry hands now tugging at his hair. “I need you to take me. Make me forget everything. I want to only remember you.”

Without warning, he swept you up in his arms, a gasp escaping your lips, as he expertly laid you down, hovering above you. You took a moment to take him in; his pink, pillowy lips, tousled hair, scruff beard, shining eyes. Not even the midnight night sky, nor a sunset, or a shimmering ocean, was so breathtaking.  

“My love,” he scanned your face, causing your heart to skip a beat. “My love,” he repeated himself, beginning to kiss down your neck over your shoulder, across the top of your breasts, sucking and nibbling. Your entire body filled with goosebumps, and you briefly considered that you were not being nearly as quiet as you had hoped. It was so difficult when he was making you feel this overcome with ecstasy.

“I need to feel your skin on mine,” you whispered, tugging at his clothing. He lifted himself off you, standing before you. He removed his loincloth, tossing it aside, his erection standing before you. Your mouth watered as you took the sight of him in, face becoming impossibly hot. His manhood was proportionately large and thick, much like the rest of his broad, toned body. It made you feel so delicate in comparison. Various images flashed in your mind’s eye. A large, strong hand coming down hard on your ass. The other wrapped around your throat. His back muscles flexing as he pounded into you from behind, his hand over your mouth to keep you from screaming.

“You are so-“ you began to say, but couldn’t find the right words. Before you could finish your thought, he moved towards you again.

“Can I undress you?” he asked, hands moving steadily down your clothed body. You nodded vigorously.

“Please,” you squirmed, fluttering your lashes at your love. He motioned for you to sit up so he could pull your tunic off your head, placing it on the floor. You were left entirely bare, and if it were anybody else in front of you, you would feel self-conscious. But the way his fingertips gently stroked your sides, his big blue eyes bore into yours with care and understanding, made you feel like a goddess yourself.

“I want to worship you,” he began, covering his body with yours, mouth covering one of your breasts. “Lay you on an altar and pray over every single part of your body,” he murmured as he took your nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue. You gasped, hands gripping his shoulders for stability.

“Tell me what else,” you whispered.

“Well,” he said between wet kisses over to your other breast. “Once I worshipped you, my goddess,” he said as he began to suck on your other nipple, tweaking the first with his fingers, making you arch your back. “I would then ravage you,” he said, not giving you a chance to respond except to moan into his mouth as he kissed you, the kiss all tongue and desperation. His beard was scratching at your delicate skin deliciously. You ached to feel this on your thighs.

You began to grind against his body as you kissed, attempting to relieve some frustration. You could feel his hardness pressing into your stomach, and it made your mouth water.

“Lucius,” you groaned into his mouth, perhaps a little too loudly.

Shhhhhh, he placed his hand over your mouth, tutting at you. He kept his hand there, his other one tracing a line down your stomach. Your entire body was shaking as you spread your legs apart, drops of wetness falling down your thighs.

“Quiet, my love,” he whispered, one singular finger finally, ever so gently, tracing your folds. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, bucking up into his hand. You needed more.

He noticed his reaction, groaning to himself. He couldn’t help but give you what you wanted. He used two fingers to apply more pressure, running up and down your soaked folds, hitting your clit and making your body twitch each time. He watched in amazement as you writhed in both desperation and pleasure, guiding his hand with your bodily movements.

Something switched in you at that moment, and you pushed his hand off your mouth, flipping yourselves over so you were now hovering above him.

“I need you in my mouth, lest I die,” you said breathlessly. He looked amused at your dramatics, but you felt his cock twitch against you.

“We wouldn’t want that, would we?” he said, and you both chuckled. Wordlessly, you turned yourself around so your pussy was over his face, his cock standing proudly in front of you. It was throbbing, looking almost painful. It made you love him even more, that he wanted you this badly.

“So beautiful,” you murmured, using your thumb to swipe the precum dribbling out of his head, licking it curiously. His deep growl was animalistic, and you felt his nails digging into your ass as he took you in his mouth, devouring you just as he promised. Simultaneously, you moaned as you licked a stripe up the underside of him, spitting a generous amount before slowly taking him into your mouth.

Being unable to see him only made you feel closer, as you could feel his mouth reacting to what you were doing. At the same time, his suctioning and licking of your pulsing clit, licking up and down your folds, was making you groan against him, the reverberation contributing to his pleasure. You began to grind your hips against his face in rhythm with your head bobbing up and down, eyes fluttering open and closed in bliss. His beard scratching against your inner thighs was painfully delicious, even more so than your imagination. You could barely breathe with how fast you were taking him in your mouth, but you did not care.

When he took your clit between his teeth and gently tugged, you gasped in pleasure, making you gag. You pulled him out of your mouth, a line of spit following. You felt the vibrations of him laughing against you. You turned around so you were face-to-face again, your legs trembling.

“Did that feel good, my darling?” he asked, unable to help himself from drawing circles on your bundle of nerves with two fingers as he spoke.

“I-Oh-So-G-Good,” you choked out.

“Would you like me inside of you?” he asked, teasing your entrance with his fingers.

“Yes, please,” you begged. He wasted no time in flipping you over once again, using his strength to pull your legs up onto his broad shoulders, your ankles intertwining behind his neck.

“I am yours, yours, yours,” he repeated like a mantra. “Yours,” the last one came out with a groan, as he swiftly entered you halfway. Your breath was taken away in the best possible way, his thickness impossibly stretching you out.

“You’re so big,” you moaned, shaking your head, inadvertently clenching around him. He gritted his teeth.

“It feels so right. So right to be this close to you. I need you every day, every night, all the time,” he rambled, as he pushed all the way into you, bottoming out. You nodded rapidly in agreeance, finding it difficult to speak.

“Is that okay?” he asked, intertwining your fingers together above your head. You nodded again, licking your lips. Your mouth had gotten a little dry from hanging open in pleasure.

“I want you to fill me up like this forever,” you answered, tossing your head side to side deliriously. “I will always need you.”

Something flickered in Lucius’ eyes. He dropped one of your hands, instead pinning both of your wrists down with one hand. He used the other hand to draw circles on your clit, as he began to move inside you. Slowly, gently at first, but not for long.

Before you knew it, it felt as it he was going to split you apart. He was grunting with each thrust, your promises to keep quiet entirely forgotten. The rhythmic sound of your wetness as he moved in and out of you echoed throughout the cell, and it was quite possibly the most melodic sound he had ever heard. You could feel him deep within you, hitting your cervix which took your breath away each time.

Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead, the veins in his arms protruding out. You moved your hands so he was no longer holding your wrists down, and he complied immediately. You needed to touch him. With shaking hands, you ran your fingertips all over his chest and stomach, feeling the muscles flexing with each thrust. You worked your way up over his shoulders, up his neck and into his hair, then back down to his arms. You dug your nails into his biceps, surely leaving marks.

“Fill me up with your seed, dulcissime,” you echoed his sentiment from earlier. “Make me ripe with a child so that we may carry on a hopeful legacy for generations to come.”

He groaned, profanities escaping his mouth in a deep, guttural voice.

“Say that again,” he demanded, fingers still circling your swollen, aching clitoris.

You gripped his hair in your hands, pulling him close to whisper in his ear.

“Get me pregnant, dulcissime. I need your hot, sticky seed inside of me.”

This undid both of you. You reached for one another, mouths slotting together in harmony. You stifled your moans with kisses, as you felt him spill inside you and warm you up. The feeling sent you over the edge, as you pulled his hair even harder to steady yourself. A warmth flowered all the way from your sternum to your extremities, your pussy pulsing around him as you rode out the high. Your entire body felt like it was floating, spots clouding your vision.

“My love, my darling,” Hanno murmured, his stomach rising and falling rapidly as he tried to catch his breath. You kissed again, as he cupped your face gently.

Wordlessly, he gently, achingly, pulled himself from inside of you, and you both watched in awe as the point where your bodies met were no longer together. His seed was dribbling out of you, coating you and making you itch.

“Can I clean you up?” he asked gruffly, barely waiting for an answer as you sighed out, “God, yes,” as he moved down your body so his face was crowding between your thighs. He licked a swipe up you, making your entire body twitch with aftershock. You practically screamed, the overstimulation almost too much to handle. Almost. You shoved your fist into your mouth to stifle the noises.

You watched through hooded eyes as he licked up every drop of his own seed, grinding onto his face, chasing the pleasure. You were delirious, not a single thought in your mind beside Lucius. When he was finished, he wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb, and you moaned out loud at the sight. He returned to kiss you once more, and you could taste the familiar taste on his tongue, making your stomach swoop with desire.

Pulling away for a moment, he rolled over onto his back, pulling you with him so you were folded into his side, leg draped over his, his large arms engulfing you. He pressed a gentle kiss to your sweaty temple, wildly juxtaposing his actions from mere moments ago.

He gazed down at you with those incredible eyes, sighing blissfully. He moved a piece of hair from your face as he spoke his next words.

“I hope you know I meant every word, dulcissima. I want to build a future with you, for you, for our children. I vow to always protect you.”

You pressed a sweet kiss to his lips.

“We will build our home together,” you replied. And for the first time, the future you imagined, a future full of hope and possibility, felt closer than ever before.

[myceliacrochet]

URGENT: 4yo Little Girl and Her Family Malnutritioned and Freezing!! (Sham and Moneer al-Anqar -- Skills Series: "Easy Piece First")

Reblog if u answer pls tysm!🩷

There's no shame in that! In this series, I'll be sharing some tips to help us keep going strong, carrying these families throughout this brutal winter of extermination. With each post I'll be highlighting a family in desperate need.

Easy Piece First

Whether we're working at a job, making commissions, working on posts, or doing other tasks, mutual aid for genocide relief can be overwhelming. The stakes are through the roof, and sometimes the people who most want to help are the people least able to. Often I freeze in place, overwhelmed with emotion, unsure of where to start. Depression, anxiety, and AuDHD don't help!

So I hope this skill is of use to you. I call it "Easy Piece First" because that's what helps me remember it, but it's definitely not a new idea.

I started this post with the easiest small step accessible. For me, that was writing down Moneer's current blog tag (@sham-moner) in a new post. This was the easiest for me because it required no decision-making and could be done in a few seconds. Then I filled in the other parts that don't take much thought -- the GoFundMe link, the vetting, and some tags.

For other posts, sometimes I'll be making art that is unrelated and then I'll think of a post to go with it.

Lazy and Heartless, or Focused and Strategic?

Everyone is different, but trying to force yourself to start with the hardest part first (what some people call the "Eat That Frog" approach) can actually make things take longer for some people. Using "Easy Piece First," I was able to get more done with my time, and with less trouble. This makes my efforts more sustainable long-term.

On a related note, I actually take a lot of measures to not walk around with my chest constantly hurting for Palestinians anymore (though there's nothing wrong with doing so). My chest was aching at all times for months until I converted some of my worry into action and some of it into self-care -- so I could actually get more done for Palestinians, who do not need my tears but my labor.

This winter is a marathon, and we gotta see it through to the end.

Take care of yourself so you can get more done and keep helping people long-term.

Do not give yourself a heart condition.

Give Palestinians labor.

That's how I'm keeping myself out of the hospital and maximizing what I can do for people, but we all have our own strategies.

But that's enough about us -- let's talk about these two amazing kids.

Moneer and Sham

Palestinians are just regular people. That's the horrible reality. It's the exact same as if people from your own background, even your own family were getting tortured and killed.

Like, Moneer is a 19yo who had recently started university when the genocide began. Sham is 4, Mohammed is 16, Rana is 21, and Rasha is 22.

What were you going through when you were 4? How would you have felt if you saw people getting blown up at that age? What if your house was blown up and all your toys and friends were lost, and you had to live outside in the winter, scrounging for moldy bread and polluted water?

What if you lived with the smell of rotting bodies when you were 4? Did you know what that smelled like as a little kid? I still don't know what that smells like. I didn't really know what death was at that age. She does.

This small child is in critical need of food and water!!

She is starving!!

Sham will die this winter without more donations!!

This is a call to action for an extremely urgent campaign!!!

It's been 2 days, and it was 2 days before that! This is far too long!!

Moneer is still recovering from major surgery. He is in a lot of pain and is also malnutritioned and in need of clean water and warmth.

Moneer is very close to his family and dearly loves his mom, Amani (39). Amani is in a lot of danger because she has asthma in a dusty massacre zone without treatment. It's killing Moneer to watch his mom go through this.

Drink some water, take a rest, and keep putting one foot in front of the other, using whatever tools work for you.

We are not letting these kids and their family die this winter!! We can do this!!

Vetting: GazaVetters #8

@opencommunion @beserkerjewel @deepspaceboytoy @rhubarbspring @eryuditely @lesbianmaxevans @malcriada @turian @sxpph0 @rebel-girl-queen-of-my-world @neptunerings @dykesbat @halalgirlmeg @userpeggycarter @minosbull @hamstertross @magnus-rhymes-with-swagness-blog @definitelynotafox @kaleschmidt @jaylung101 @captainsaltymuyfancy2 @timetravellingkitty @sun-and-moon-side @kahin @greenmossyrock @northgazaupdates2 @irhabiya @theparanoid @steep1253o @victoriawhimsey @dirhwangdaseul @cruzwalters @ladycelebrianofimladris @tamamita @50seagullsinatrenchcoat @deathlonging @nconiku @briarhips @kaislittlecorner @mahoushojoe @sar-soor @rhubarbspring @pcktknife @sawasawako @feluka @anneemay-blog @ralfocups

P.S.: I have several people waiting on me for posts. I am so sorry -- I will get them finished and published as soon as possible.

@soft-sunbird Thank you dear friend🥰🩷 I love you. You're doing so great

Check out the comments for many ways to help!

[1920sladydectective]

Best Friend's Mother Ch.6 (Finale) 6.8K MDNI 18+

Here she bloody is, my darlings!

All done, finally, giving me room to write even more Ambessa stuff. Next stop Professor Medarda!

That being said, I've loved writing this story and feel so honoured by the reception it has received. Thank you especially to @shinyshayminflower for the initial prompt, @uselessbard1031 for the endless support and @chocolate-quotes for the stunning cover art which I adoreddddddddddd.

Love you all, let me know what you think!

Warnings: Degradation, Name Calling, Overstimulation kinda? Lots of alcohol idk I'm British and this is set at Christmas okay.

Chapter 6:

You’d failed at the first hurdle, the first second, the truest and largest fuck up possible of a New Year’s resolution. Bubbles fizzed in your blood, common sense popping like a thousand little sparks. 

She tasted good, like whisky and regret and those tiny chocolate puddings on the trays at the party. The party you couldn’t quite remember or reconcile, the party that faded to blurring noise as she consumed you. 

Ambessa’s mind was screaming at her. This was not how she’d intended the evening to go. Rather the opposite. She was going to kiss one of Cassandra’s uptight friends, unwind them a bit and then take her drunken gaggle of children home. 

Instead she’d been ripped to shreds by her daughter and was now eating the very forbidden (but no longer?) fruit she had tried to avoid. 

You pulled away merely to breathe, but it was enough, like a shock of cold water. Tears, hot and angry sprung into your eyes almost immediately. 

“What was that?” You snarled, gulping in air. 

“I-“ Ambessa coughed slightly, “A mistake,” 

You scoffed, shoving her, “You can say that again,” 

“No,” She backtracked, muddled, “I just meant-“ 

“Do me a favour and fuck off, okay?” You wiped your mouth viciously with your sleeve, panic heavy in your heart as you rushed past her without another word. Drunk and distressed, you made your way into a random corner and stayed there. 

You’d tell Mel in the morning, you told yourself with trembling hands, but right now it would be too much. 

Ambessa was having the most tiring evening ever. Nothing was happening in the right order, as if she’d been given the smaller part of every wishbone in existence.Her mouth was a villain, intent on ruining everything. Glancing in the reflection of one of Cassandra’s crystalline statutes, she saw her massacred face, red smudges everywhere. 

“Well,” Cassandra Kiramman’s smug voice rang out, “That was a damn sight better than seeing you kiss my child like last year,” 

Muscled shoulders seized, wide golden eyes meeting cool grey ones, “Lovely party,”

“I think that’s the first time in twenty years you’ve said that,” She snorted, “I needn’t lecture you about how stupid that was, we both remember what happened with Maddie,”

“She isn’t Maddie,”

“Evidently,” A click of teeth, an outstretched hand holding cloth “I’ll see you on the 14th, I can take your money and your secrets then,” 

Ambessa sighed, wiping her face of lipstick and taking a regrouping breath. There was little to do but sober up and figure out a battle plan. Divide her stupidity and hopefully conquer her love. Or some other battle analogy she was too pissed to think of. “Thank you,”

“There’s no need for that,” She smiled, rolling her eyes at her friend, “You’re hosting the women’s luncheon in February,” 

Fuck.

You were sitting in a fancy taxi, a snoozing Mel on your shoulder as Kino rambled about the artwork in Caitlyn’s house. You didn’t care about the fact that the frames were worth as much as the art, or that some of them had taken years to find. You didn’t care about anything at all really, save the brooding woman in front of you. She seemed so cold, so distant, and you found that it did not suit her. You’d never be rid of her, that understanding had set in as you stumbled out of the car and into the front porch. She was like Japanese knotweed, strong and thriving and made to rot the very foundations of life. Here you were, a three time offender of succumbing to her, despite your morals and your strength and your hatred. 

Deft fingers attempted to grab your wrist as Kino and Mel waltzed arm in arm up the staircase, but her hold found nothing but air. A snap, a growl, something animalistic as you trailed quickly after your friends, the third of the good little wolves and nothing more. 

Sleep was easy due to alcohol, though all it really did was lock you in dreams. Tender kisses and bitter words fighting for the spotlight, leaving your mind a flashing drunken strobe. Sweaty, distressed turning and rolling until dawn beckoned and you lay shivering in the fetal position. No amount of fancy heating systems could rid your bones of the chill, heavy limbs freezing you in place. 

It took several hours and a minor pity party to make it into a different pair of less sweaty pyjamas, another hour to make it downstairs and fifteen seconds for your hopes of sorting this out as soon as possible to be crushed. 

A series of texts from Mel. Mel and Kino had left twenty minutes ago, a sibling breakfast tradition you had been omitted from due to your lack of appearance. Fuck. Just her, somewhere, lurking. 

The kitchen was safe, paprika crisps settling your stomach as you brewed some longjing tea. A plan was formed, tell Mel, pack your shit and stay with your cousin until the housework finished later this week. It was solid, grounding and allowed you to get the fuck out of this weird fantasy land. Nothing felt tangible here, all consequences smashing down as soon as the spell of the upper class echelons was shattered by travelling 20 miles north. You holed yourself up in one of the spare sitting rooms, avoiding where she thought you’d be in favour of unfamiliar cream sofas and animal artwork. 

It wasn’t enough. 

Tentative footsteps, her arrival heralded by Mina, like a slow marching procession. There was no escape. One way in, one way out. The oak door clicked shut softly. You did not, would not, give her the satisfaction of looking up. 

Your name on her lips, measured and calm, as the sofa to your right dipped with her body weight. A loud clunk, your gaze meeting a bottle of artisan Olive Oil. 

“Olive branch?” She muttered, “We were out of breadsticks,” 

You looked at it, still not her, nose twitching. Her charm, though flavoured now with hesitancy, was viscous and wrong as it lapped at your skin. “That implies there’s a conversation to be had here, and there isn’t,”

“Look at me,” Soft but impatient. 

Your eyeline did not move. Her arrogance astounded you.

“I was thinking-”

“No, Mrs Medarda,” You snapped, formality and fury, making the cat jump, “There is nothing you can say, I am going to tell Mel and then I’m going to get away from you, as fast as possible,” 

“A tad dramatic,” Cryptic, passive smile, “Mel knows, darling,” 

“What?” This had you meeting her gaze, “You told her?”

“Not yet,” A sniff, “Not exactly,” 

“Well then she doesn’t fucking know, you twat,” 

Ambessa’s lips upturned slightly, “She doesn’t know the specifics, but she knows my motivations,”

“Motivations?” You scoffed, “Your untameable pride and sex drive you mean?”

Ambessa, despite having spent most of the night replaying every interaction you had ever shared under the rosy haze of infatuation, had yet to find a way to piece together her confession. Part of her wanted to wax lyrical, a modern day poet speaking in nothing but nonsense and flowers. But your impatience, borne of hurt and exhaustion, hung heavy above her. She was the one fearing the guillotine’s blade now, she should have learned from history that the revolution always comes in the end. And here it was, the revolt of her own mutinous heart. 

“Well?” Her silence unsettled you, those carved brows scrunched inwards, as you fought a mounting urge to backhand her. 

“Not quite that,” She muttered, “Wouldn’t have bothered with the olive oil if it was just sex, dear,” 

Your eyes rolled, pushing off of the sofa, body fleeing before your blood curdled in your veins. 

She grabbed your arm, pulling you back down with a thud, “Stop I-” gasped air, “I’m trying to be honest here,”

“You’re speaking like a Dickens novel and I’m supposed to take you seriously? Three Ghosts come and slap you in the face? Or some New Year’s resolution, is it?” You yank your hand back, skin fizzing and yearning for the calloused warmth to return. 

“Yes, actually,” 

“What was your Christmas past like then?”

“Troubled,” She quipped, rolling her eyes at you, “It is a resolution, one I indeed to stick to,”

A laugh, grating against your throat, “Didn’t take you for the type, you don’t seem in a rush to change anything about your life,” 

“Stop being childish and listen,” She snapped. 

“You have two minutes,” You spat, “And then I’m leaving,”

“Two minutes isn’t even enough time to boil an egg,” 

“Ambessa,”

Muscles tensed. Fine. Fucking Hell. “I’ve been bad to you,” There, well done Ambessa, a start. Accountability, the sharp blade you must crush within your palm. 

Tart and hard, an unripe cherry between your teeth, shock bloomed. There was nothing particularly reassuring about her words, but you jumped all the same. 

“I abused your kindness and took advantage of you,” How lovely and romantic, the muted whites of the room shifting to morose greys. 

“Old news, cemented about nine kisses ago,”

“I know that,” It was sharper than she’d intended, a sigh rattling out, “I know,”

“If you know, why are we having this conversation?” You grabbed the olive oil, waving it about, “What kind of weak, spindly branch is this?”

“You’re so pedantic, must you have everything spelled out for you?!” She growled, tenderness foreign on her tongue, “The I’m in love with you kind,” 

A spell, like a muffling blanket of snow, enveloped the room. Such a tender, sweet truth, with all the certainty and promise of the apple of Eden. Was she the snake or Eve, you could hardly tell. You sat, in stasis, as she swallowed. 

FIve minutes. Ten. A brutal, endless fifteen. 

“Don’t be cruel,” Acid burned in your mouth, tears smarting your eyes, “Don’t wave that about,”

Snip. Your words cutting Ambessa’s newly found heartstrings, “I wouldn’t,”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“No,” It was firm.

“And that’s what Mel knows?” You asked, eyes narrow. You didn’t believe her, couldn’t, wouldn’t. Really, really shouldn’t. 

“She insisted upon it, screamed at me in the Kiramman’s bathroom,” 

“Wait,” Awe bubbled between your ribs, “Last night?”

A begrudging nod, that soft half smile that made you melt. She loved your lip twitches of surprise, your mouth turning over words you couldn’t vocalise. 

“Why?”

“She sort of stumbled into it, as did I,” A pause as she pulled a red wine bottle and glasses from seemingly nowhere, “Do you mind?”

“Yes, I do,” You snarked, flicking the cork onto the floor, “But by all means, don’t let that stop you,” 

“I won’t,”

You took the glass she offered all the same, settling into the sofa with renewed confidence, petulant hands spilling drops of burgundy onto the cream sofa. “Stumbled, you said?”

Ambessa crossed her legs, Malbec coating her tongue, “She was..frustrated that I had not distanced myself enough from you,”

“I noticed a distinct difference,”

“That’s what I said,”

“Not taking your side,” You swished your hand for her to continue. 

“She said I was selfish and many other things, another character assassination,” Heavy chug, “But she wanted a reason, a cause,”

“She always does,” Anticipation was building now, possible half truths and sweet words lingering just out of reach, “It’s the only reason she forgave me, because of how I felt,”

Ambessa nodded, eyes distant, “Did you know I find it harder to sleep now?”

What? You were hungover and hair of the expensive vintage dog was not quite cutting it.  Speak plainly you maddening cow, your mind cried. Instead, “Pardon?”

“I miss the weight of you on my chest, and the coldness of your toes on my calves,” She muttered, memory easier than big declarations, “It’s what I thought of when Mel asked me to prove it, to prove it was..” 

Monster. Cannibal. Villain. She was gnawing at your bones, words like ambrosia to all the battered, tired shades of you that sat before her. You missed that too, had mourned it like so many other little, luxurious sweetnesses. 

“That’s still a physical desire,” You rationalised, lips stained with wine. 

A grunt, “Do you need more?”

A nod. Several. Only confirmational overkill would do here. 

“I-” Her hand twitched, “find myself trying to force an affinity for apple tea,”

“You hate it,”

“But it tastes of you,” She said, “Sometimes it’s all I can do to stave off the craving,”

“So you miss my mouth? Physical.” 

Ambessa pouted, heavy hand overpouring another glass, “What do you want from me? I’ve already said it,”

You laughed, in spite of it all, “I want to know what you’re feeling, not what you miss or crave or imagine,”

It seemed to rent her asunder, her feelings etched in memories, stuck far away from words. Love was one, but it was vulnerable and rough against her tongue. It had only come out via happenstance, sleep deprivation and growing panic. Affection hung in the background, and devotion sat like oil on her smooth skin. How was she to wield them? A great axe pulling her into herself, straining underdeveloped muscles. 

“It’s a bit like quicksand,” Her tone was unsteady, “It’s eating me whole,”

“What is?”

 “Love,” She snarled, as if it was obvious, eyes ever so slightly glazed. 

“The more you fight, the more you sink?”

She nodded, a heady relief in your understanding, light at the end of her confusing tunnel, “Exactly that,” 

You downed your glass, “Then I’ll throw you a stick, help you out,” a dismissive sniff, “I hate you,”

“No you don’t,” No hesitation, “You fell before I did, Sweet Girl,” 

“And look where that got me,” 

“But we’re in it together now,”

“There is no together, Ambessa,” You were sinking, she would not be proven right, “Your love is as dangerous as your indifference, wolves do not cradle their prey tenderly,”

“You aren’t prey,” It was a cry, angry and indignant, as her hands found yours. 

“Then why am I covered in your bitemarks?” 

She grumbled, “I think we’ve used the full extent of this metaphor, darling,” 

“Metaphors, jibs, cold truths, however you spin it, you are an emotionally immature mess,”

“Mel called me an emotionally impotent bitch,” She said, interlocking her warm hands with your trembling ones, “You were kinder about it,” 

“I’m always kinder about everything,” You replied, tightening your grip.

“It’s one of the things I love about you,” 

“Stop saying that!” 

“What?” She smiled, something giving way inside her, “Love? That I love you?”

“I-Yes,” You were chest deep now, thick wet sand eating you, “I don’t know what to do with that, with you,” 

Ambessa sat, rhythmically stroking your knuckles, as her head leaned closer to yours, “You let me earn you, my darling,”

Thick sludge, stealing your breath away now, “Earn me?” 

“Will you let me try?” Her voice was molasses now, pushing you down into the very bottom of the pit, her brain finally catching up with her body, “Words fuelled by action?” 

“L-like date me? And woo me?” Your eyes were fluttering, heart a schism of fear and fancy. 

She hummed in confirmation, free hand tucking some of your glitter crusted hair behind your ear, gaze soft. 

“Doesn’t seem very characteristic, Ambessa,” 

“Yes, well,” A humorous sigh, “You’ve clearly made me sick, some kind of spell or curse,”

You smacked her arm, a nonsensical laugh slipping out. She was ridiculous and stupid and images of her sending you flowers or taking you mini golfing came into your mind unbidden. 

“Is that a yes, my darling?”

“What does Mel think?”

“I think you should ask her,” Ambessa’s voice wrapped around you, “Regardless of this, I will not monopolise on your relationship with her,”

“I think you’re suffering from head injury,” She was perfect, she was handing you your dreams on a silver platter, so why couldn’t you take it? “I think I need some time,”

She nodded, ignoring the dark growl in her chest, “There’s no timeline,” Actually, the timeline was she wanted to be between your legs right now, but it seemed the clocks were confused. 

With an odd, robotic stroke to her cheek, you stumbled out of the room and back up the stairs. Ignoring your door, you curled into Mel’s room, allowing yourself to be engulfed by frilly bed sheets. She’d find you later and you could have a chat. 

Find you she did, snoring and pale in her bed, with wine stained lips and tear stained cheeks. Hungover limbs crawled around you, kissing your forehead. 

“Babe!” It was a happy shout, as you flinched awake. 

“That was not the only way to do that,” 

“It’s the way I chose,”

The conversation that transpired was as follows. You bared your snotty, shattered soul and called her mother all the cruel, loving things you could think of and she nodded sagely whilst stroking your hair. She then decided to take her mother’s side, and say that you should definitely pursue a relationship if you loved her, as if it was that simple. You were now battering her shoulder with a candy cane shaped cushion. 

“Hitting me isn’t going to change my answer,”

“It’s not normal to tell your friend to date your mother,” You cried, “The only sane person in this family is Kino,”

“Really?”

A memory of him drizzling a chicken wing with melted chocolate the night before returned, “Christ, okay you’re all nuts!” 

“You still haven’t told me what you want,” Mel murmured, taking the candy cane from your grasp, “Just that she’s evil and you feel weak when she smiles, which honestly urgh,” 

Uncertain, jittering hands tug at a strand of hair, “I don’t think I know,”

Silence, her hand on your shoulder, as you sorted through the bombed out craters in your mind. Each kiss, fight, and confession had made its mark and the rubble was hard to decipher. 

“I think I want to exist a bit, before I commit to anything,” 

“You have been through a lot, babe,” Mel was so gentle, you adored her more than she could ever ever know, “Maybe just be you? Mum’ll wait,”

“Will she?” That was your hope and your fear. 

“She’ll have to if she’s serious, and if she doesn’t then fuck her, you can find another fish, preferably one I’m not related to,” 

“I love you,”

“Damn right,” She kissed your head, “Now can we watch TV or something, my head hurts,”

Three days passed, and she was surprisingly normal. There was no forced affection or ultimatums, just the same smile; considerate and mischievous. You were grateful, the space confirming what you’d said to Mel. You needed to be you, away from the magic and madness of this house, and only then would you really know. 

When you told her as much, firelight flickering in the library on your last evening, she let out a long sigh. The grating, dull pain in her heart intensified, but with it so did her plan.

The last dinner felt stupidly biblical, final and massive, as though you may never return. A veritable feast, overflowing plates and glasses, as even Rictus joined you for the meal. Kino was a jester of epic proportions, breaking more than one glass in his pursuit of a punchline. Ambessa sat, quiet but merry, against the carved mahogany chair of the dining room. Mel, as ever, was the master of pictures. You dreaded the thought of the costs to develop that much film, though you placed bunny ears behind Kino’s head as you grinned into the flash all the same. Rictus, though, was the real diamond in the rough of the evening. Strong and well mannered, with your exact sense of humour. He was quiet and yet seemed to fill every silence that threatened to hurt you. You felt sorry to have overlooked him in a way, leaning a heavy head against his shoulder. 

“I’m going to miss you,”

“Miss my endless free labours?” He joked, a gruff voice above your ear. 

“Miss your sanity,” You said, “Miss your friendship,”

“Well, I’m only ever a phone call away,” He replied, “Us furniture have to stick together,” 

You laughed, bright and true, as he dolloped another mountain of tiramisu onto your plate. 

Slowly, but surely, you all retired to bed, a holiday well spent and a heavy desire to return to normal weighing in the air.

The next morning, as he bundled your endless possessions into Mel’s boot, Rictus called you over. 

“Something the matter?”

“Kid,” A sternness, “You’re going to be alright?”

You snorted, “I told you I’d keep in touch, where’s this come from? Delirious from all of Mel’s handbags and shoes?”

“I love Ambessa Medarda very much,” He said out of nowhere, hand stroking your arm, “Don’t let her wants eclipse yours,”

“What?” What the fuck was he on about? 

“Speak of the devil, and she appears,” He muttered, stepping away without a further word. Bastard. 

Ambessa squeezed Mel with all her might, an acceptance blossoming in a relationship filled with shards of glass and broken promises. “Look after yourself, work hard,”

“Party harder,” Mel muttered, “I know Mum, I’ll see you at Easter,”

She climbed into the preheated Land Rover, just as Rictus wandered back into the Manor with a shout and a wave. Kino had said goodbye over breakfast, nearly breaking a rib, and so it was just her.

The goodbye was stilted, her large hand stroking your hair as she took an audible sniff. It made you giggle wetly, swallowing down the impulse to just collapse into her and let yourself be consumed. You first, her later. That was probably what Rictus had meant, god your brain was slow today.

“Thanks for a lovely Christmas, and everything in between, well most things,” You mumbled, watery smile. 

“You’re more than welcome, Sweet Girl,” 

“I-I’ll be in touch, when I can,” Her hand was warm in yours, keeping you anchored in place. 

“IF you can, Dear,” She corrected, voice caring “I expect you to take this seriously,” 

A scoff, as you nodded and pursed your lips. Everyone was treating you like you were suddenly going to go back on your plan and jump her bones against the front door. It was a valid concern, even you hadn’t decided completely if you would or not.

“See you soon,” She said, a throwaway comment, as you let go and climbed into Mel’s car. 

Several beats. Your heart full and empty, a weird schrodinger’s joke. A fern tree smell from the little car freshener. 

“Well that was agonising to watch,” Mel quipped, shooting her mum a wave and pulling out of the driveway. Manicured nails flicked on a random playlist, 80s rock heavy, as you stared out at the frosty scenery. 

The flowers started a week after you had gotten back to Edinburgh. Always different, always perfectly sized for your light green vase and never overwhelming. It was a constant sign of her presence, without the stifling need to be responded to. There was never a note, beyond her initials, and that made each delivery all the sweeter. Sometimes other things would come with them too, after a long deadline or big presentation, there would be wine or a new book. It was a more considerate type of materialism, reminiscent of sand castle buckets and chiffon dresses, as glimmering parts of your old self emerged from the explosion of Her. 

Winter socials, dancing around the house in pyjamas singing ABBA with Mel as the world began to thaw.

Valentine’s Day arrived, and with it a little bouquet of roses and a takeaway voucher. 

Happy Valentine’s Day, Ambessa x

                               You too, Sweet Girl x

It was your first point of contact, and you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it. She was slowly but surely winning you over from afar, earning you as she’d said and this new, fresh, old version of yourself was happy to let her encroach a bit on No Man’s Land. Plus, this burrito was one of the best things you’d eaten in ages.

Ambessa was smiling widely at her phone, heart a jackhammer. She felt foolish, any acknowledgment sending her into a tailspin, but that soft kiss at the end of a text was enough to solidify her already immense resolve. You were hers, and she was yours, however long she had to wait.

You were granted the funding you needed, your academic success propelling you into spring with tired and happy limbs. Eleven weeks of flowers, a few scattered texts and one slightly drunken nude later, Mel was rambling at the dinner table about Easter plans. 

“Dad’s not back till the last week,” You replied around a very hot mouthful of chicken parm, “Presumed I’d spend the rest of the time with you,”

Mel’s eyes glistened, shit eating grin on her glossed lips, “Did you now?”

“Oh come off it,” You snapped, “Ambessa already offered anyway,” 

“She has? How nice of her,” Excitement fizzed in her, battling with a bit of sadness at losing her friend’s full attention, “And how is that? Calla lilies this week, I noticed,” 

“Why’s that matter?”

“They mean beauty,” 

“They have meanings?” Tomato sauce stained your grey joggers, you didn’t care, “What about the others?” 

She snorted, “You thought they were just random?”

“I-I” A gulp, “Well, fuck I don’t know I just thought they were pretty,” 

Her laughter grated at you, google your true friend in the matter, as you scanned through each message Ambessa had supposedly sent. 

Bluebells first - Humility. Ironic start. 

Honeysuckle - Bonds of Love

Yellow Tulips - Sunshine in a smile - your heart seized. 

Peony - Bashful - not a word you’d really associate with her. 

White Hyacinth - Loveliness - Hers or your own? Both, you decided. Both. 

Edelweiss - Devotion - a dizzy wave of warmth over your skin. 

Red Roses - I Love You - apt for Valentine’s day. 

Chamomile - Patience in adversity. How brave she was, how ridiculous.

Forget-Me-Nots - True Love Memories - Her stained grin, garlic bread in hand came to mind. 

Red Camellias - You’re a flame in my heart - This coincided directly with her receiving a picture of you in a lacy red bra and thong, courtesy of cheap pints in your favourite pub, and an uncharged vibrator. 

Calla Lillies - Beauty. 

Your chicken parm was cold now, your mouth hanging open, as your eyes burned slightly. 

“You back with me, babe?” 

“This is so stupid,” You spluttered into cold marinara sauce, “She’s so stupid,”

“Love makes a fool of us all,” Mel said wisely. 

“Is that why you, Viktor and Jayce were curled up last night? I saw you holding hands,” 

“Be quiet!” She whined, “Die,”

“Don’t throw stones, Mel,” You mocked, “You’re looking awful glassy right now,” 

You would stay for Easter then, you both agreed over chocolate mousse, as you sent a thumbs up to Ambessa’s invitation. 

Ambessa, glasses balancing on her nose as she read a novel, scanned the text. Once. Twice. An exuberant third time. Rictus ended up battered with requests for a clear and ornate Easter menu, despite the fact that the holiday was over six weeks away and not at all favoured by the Medarda family. Mina had taken to nibbling her phone but only ever when you texted, and Ambessa was beginning to take it personally.

Your spring deadlines came and went, as April and its gentle rest bite from academia beckoned. The journey was painfully familiar to you now, as was the warm and rough rock sitting in your stomach. You felt you again, which was terrifying as it finally gave some space for her. Something you had come to want so desperately it made your dreams turbulent and your hands shaky. She still had some work to do, but as you flicked through your sparse text exchanges you couldn’t fight the smitten smile. 

You loved Ambessa Medarda, and that was okay now. For both of you. 

Ambessa had been waiting for three hours by the door like an overexcited dog. Several times Rictus had come to ask her questions or show her things, and each time she was transfixed on the long driveway.

“Mel said they wouldn’t be here before 2,” He said, smirk on his lips. 

“She’s never reliable,” 

“She is literally compulsively on time,” 

“Rictus, do I pay you for these kinds of conversations?”

“No, but you probably should, I was going to bring it up during my next performance review,” 

“Ah yes, 31st of April, wasn’t it?”

He laughed, wandering back towards the tower of hand painted easter eggs he was tending to.

2pm on the dot you pulled up by the house, clambering to stretch your legs. As the door opened Mel ran to it, kissing her Mum’s cheek and shooting past her to get to the toilet. Whether intentional or serendipity, Mel had given you the perfect opening to stare like a lovesick fool at her mother. 

“Ambessa,” Her name a cry of joy.

“Sweet Girl,” She ignored the thickness in her throat, eyes glimmering at seeing your face again. 

“T-Thanks for the flowers,” Unsure hands, “And the messages they sent,”

She smiled, stepping forward and squeezing your arm. “Always, as long as you enjoy them,” 

“You’ve been just what I needed,” Affection swelled in your chest, “Present but distant,”

“Like a ghoul?” 

You giggled, “Exactly that,”

“You keep comparing me to spirits and ghosts,”

“I actually compared you to Scrooge, not the ghosts themselves,” 

She rolled her eyes, snorting, “You must always be right, mustn’t you?”

“Ambessa,” You repeated, gentiler now. 

She hummed in question, gaze meeting yours. 

“I think I’m ready to try now,” A sharp inhale, “If you are?”

“Well,” Her crimson lips part into a dazzling smile, “That makes me very ha-”

“Princess!!” Kino, dressed in plaid pyjamas, shouted as he ran to engulf you in a hug, “You’re here!”

“Bastard child,” Ambessa grunted under her breath, watching as you cuddled her son and made faces at her over his shoulder. 

“Later,” You mouthed, before focusing on Kino, “Hello there, Peacock Prince,”

She wandered back inside with a murderous expression, greeted by Mel halfway through a bag of Quavers, “Kino cockblock you?”

“Mel, I fund your lifestyle,” Ambessa snapped, “Do not antagonise me,”

“That’s a yes,” Her crunchy words said, offering her a cheesy grin. 

It took until after dinner that evening for you to get a moment alone together again, your spot in the library occupied as you stared across at her. Kino was out with another lady friend and Mel had common sense, so the air that crackled around you would not be interrupted. It was a good thing too, you’d spent the whole time eating your spaghetti trying to make yourself look alluring. Until Mel had pinched you under the table. 

“So,” You started, chest tight. 

“So,” She repeated, stroking Mina, “You said you were ready?”

“Yes,” Your decision was certain now, having spent some time back in her presence. You wanted it all, as soon as you could get it. Seemed you were as damned as she was. The devil on your own shoulder.

“We can take it slowly, Sweet girl,” She said, leaning forward, “There’s no rush,”

Your blood was thick and hot, mind whirling, “What if I want to rush?”

Ambessa grinned, chucking Mina away and with one sharp tug moving you onto her large thighs, “Then I’d say, where would you like to start?”

She was solid and seductive and all the things you’d avoided in your time finding yourself. She was as sticky and tempting as always, though her love tempered the fire now. Things were never done by half, and you’d fooled yourself when you planned to build a relationship step by step. Ambessa had laid the foundations, floral and firm, so now you wanted to chuck brick and cement together as fast as you could. 

“This maybe?” You half slurred in anticipation, hungry lips meeting hers. 

Ambessa was, for once, incredibly surprised. You were devouring her, with no restraint, as if no time had passed at all. But you were different now, she could sense it. Stronger, more certain of your place, your needs and wishes. It suited you, like an attractive new coat. Her hands were roaming about, searching for the best place to land, each patch of skin more perfect than the last. 

“Are you sure?” She murmured against smudged lips, holding your chin in place to stop your desperate advance, “I don’t want to push you away again,”

You melted, kissing her palm, “You won’t,” it was breathless, “I promise,”

“I’ll only do this if I get to take you out tomorrow, a nice long day together,” Her honeyed voice muttered, though one hand was already making its way under your shirt. 

“So a win-win?” 

Calloused fingers grazed your nipple, kissing your neck as she nodded into it. 

“Not sure I could ask for a better Easter,” You joked breathlessly, body twitching into her touch. 

“That’s why you’re not going to ask for it,” Her voice was dark, a switch flipped, “You’re going to beg,” 

Welcome back Ambessa Medarda, you’ve been sorely missed. I hope you fuck my brains out now. “Please?” You quipped. 

A sharp pinch to your nipple, a low growl, “Do you think I’m joking, girl?”

You ached for her, mind fracturing, as an earnest apology ripped from your throat. Your pleading was real now, her wet kisses maddening. 

Ambessa felt hungry, ravenous in fact, and you had offered yourself like a perfect little dessert. How kind. How naive. It took her a few minutes of pawing at you for all of your clothes to be left on the floor, goosebumps prickling your skin as you rubbed yourself against her thigh. This was perfection, your thoughts slush as she whispered filth in your ear. 

“More,” You whined, the pull on your chest not harsh enough. 

She twisted until it burnt, making you jolt, as her wet tongue soothed the ache, “That enough pain for you? So desperate for it,” 

“I-I”

“Is that why you sent me those filthy pictures?” Her thumb, slick with you, danced in circles across your clit, “Wanting to show yourself off, hmm? A slut in red lace?”

“Ambessa,” You gasped. 

“You wanted to drive me mad,” A suck to a sore nipple, “Wanted to corrupt me, after I tried so hard to stay away,” 

“It was an accident,” You slurred, stomach tensing as you thrust in rhythm with her touching. 

“An accident?” She scoffed, nuzzling against your throat, “That’s what you call spreading yourself for me on camera?” 

You were so close, her words like gasoline as you whimpered a confused apology, your mind desperate to keep feeling good. 

“Is this an accident too, Sweet girl?”

“Wha-” Your eyes rolled, cunt gushing as your first orgasm slammed into you like a sledgehammer. 

She slipped you off her lap, sliding out from under you to the ground, as your bare skin touched the cool red leather chair. She knelt, a devious grin on her lips, between your trembling legs as she watched a soft slickness drip down your thighs.

“You’ve made a mess,” She said, disapproving pout on her face, “Say you’re sorry,”

“S-sorry, Ambessa,” You mumbled, eyes glassy. 

“Good girl,” She stroked your thighs, a tight grip on them, tiny crescent moons from her nails, “It’s okay, I’m here to tidy you up,”

She had always been skilled, playing you like an instrument, but as her hot tongue hit your folds you found yourself blank, empty and unsure if you would ever feel anything other than raw, molten pleasure again. Teasing kitten licks lapped up your juices, her golden eyes controlling your every move, as you went limp against the chair. It smelt of her. Everything in this room did. Your body twitched again. 

Her tongue drew another two orgasms from your needy body, sweaty hair sticking to your forehead as you tugged at her salt and pepper curls. 

At some point you ended up flat on the floor against her fancy Persian rug, legs spread as she sat on your face. She was soaked, your cheeks wet as you ate mindlessly. Her orgasms were like nectar as she came apart above you, stern voice turning airy and dazed.

“Just like t-that,” She panted, fucking herself on your tongue.

Your hummed agreement hit her swollen clit, her tongue lolling out her mouth as an animalistic grunt filled the room. 

You were in a bed now. How had that happened? 

“Still with me, little one?” She teased, stroking your hair as she loomed above with a long, hard strap-on. 

“That looks nice,” You babbled, chest rapidly rising and falling. 

“Would you like it?”

A nod. 

“Ask nicely then, Sweet girl,” 

“Pleasepleaseplease,” You said, sweet as sugar, spreading yourself just as you had in those pictures. 

Ambessa Medara was a strong woman. It was her defining feature in fact. Iron will and firm muscle, she prided herself on being a fortress. Here, however, with a whimpering slut beneath her, her resolve shattered like china against marble. You were stuffed before she’d processed the last plea, a surprised gurgle as she worked to destroy you. 

Again, and again and again. She fucked that sweet spot in you with relentless efficiency, as cool leather rubbed against your clit in time with her thrusts. You’d long since given up on the idea of being quiet, mewling gasps and shouts of her name leaving you hoarse with fluttering eyes.

“Cum for me,” It was a sudden command, voice harsh and high, as she fell apart with a vicious thrust. 

You obeyed, the coil in you snapping again, as her sweat covered skin collided with yours. 

You stayed like that, hearts beating in time, as lust faded to contentment and exhaustion. Her slurred praise soothed your battered body as a cold flannel wiped away the stickiness that lingered everywhere. 

There was little else to be said that night, words of love and happiness pouring from you both under your shared silken sheets. 

She loved you. 

You loved her. 

How perfect. 

Slightly lopsided, with a turtleneck to hide the smattering of bruises across your skin, you made your way to the breakfast table. You’d agreed with Ambessa to tell Kino this morning before your date, the only thing still truly weighing on her out of the way in order for you to have the perfect day together. 

He was currently assembling a tower of waffles and bacon, as Mel systematically pushed it over. Rictus stood making more construction materials at the hob, sharing a grin with Mel. 

Ambessa, seeing you enter, coughed loudly to silence the squabbling. 

You wandered over nervously, resting beside her. 

“I’d just like to make everyone aware of something,” She started slowly. 

“Someone dead?” Kino muttered, staring at you. 

“No,” She held her hand up to silence him, “Nobody’s died,”

“Someone pregnant?” Mel asked. The shit stirrer. 

“No I-” Ambessa glared at her, taking a deep breath her hand gravitated towards your shoulder,“I wanted to let you know that we've decided to pursue a romantic relationship,”

“Oh,” Kino’s body tensed, “And when did you make this choice?”

“Last night,” You replied hesitantly, “Why?”

“Fuck,” He groaned to himself, a gruff laugh heard from the hob. 

“I do believe we said one thousand even,” Rictus mocked, flipping a waffle onto the boy’s plate. 

“You couldn’t have waited another twelve hours,” He grumbled, fishing for his wallet in his coat. 

“What is happening right now?” Ambessa said, voice stern. 

“I bet yesterday,” Rictus said as if it were obvious, “Wolf pup here bet today, thought you’d need a little time to warm up, silly boy,”

“You’ve been betting on our relationship?!” You cried, eyes wide as saucers. 

“I wanted to feel included somehow,” Kino whined, “Everyone was taking me out for breakfast to shut me up,” 

Your gaze turned to Mel, who held her hands up, “I knew nothing about this babe, I swear,” 

Liar. Her grin gave her away. 

Ambessa took the wad of cash from Kino’s hands before Rictus could, taking two hundred pounds from the pile, giving you a hundred and keeping the rest for herself, “Our commission,” Her voice was tiny daggers, “For entertaining you all so thoroughly,” 

Both men grumbled, though the sparkle in their eyes told them it was never really about the money, the satisfaction coming from destroying the other's pride. 

A pause, as she turned directly to her son, “You’re taking this very well, Kino, despite your usual nonsense, I am sorry for keeping you in the dark,” 

“About as dark and subtle as a bat signal, Mum,” He laughed, “I knew you’d tell me when it worked for you.

“Yes, well, thank you anyway,” Her voice was laced with sarcasm, as she kicked down his tower this time. 

The loud, nonsensical rumble of infighting filled the kitchen as her hand found yours, a tight squeeze making you smile. 

No more secrets. No more sadness. 

You were finally officially a Medarda.

[ri-writes-if]

What if Oracle, in there dying breath was thanking RO for everything? Not mad. Just genuine happiness that they, and there friends loved them, and for the time they spent together.👀

It would break their heart even more. I can't put their reactions into a couple words in a way that won't feel repetitive, so I'll write a snippet for one character.

I wrote the last one with Vez, so I'm writing this one with Os!

Os cradles you in their arms, a rare lost look on their face. Pain spreads through your body like a fire that devours you from inside, piece by piece. You barely have any strength left, but you force yourself to speak. "I'm happy," you mutter, choking on the next breath. "Thank you. I have your love, and it's more than I could've asked for. So don't make such a face. I'll leave... happy." Your reach your hand up and trail your fingers over their cheek. As it falls, smudging their skin with blood, Os catches it and lifts it to kiss your palm, closing their eyes for a moment. "Don't thank me," they murmur, looking down at you with tears welling in their widened eyes. "We should've more time. I should've done more for you. This isn't how it's supposed to end..." It is. You always knew your story would end in tragedy. They were too blind to see it. Blindfolded by their love for you. Too drunk on the sweet illusion you spun to notice the darkness waiting ahead with the patience of a hunter. You're not scared anymore. You know you'll leave loved. It's all that matters to you. "It's just a pity I have to leave you heartbroken," you murmur. Your vision blurs and darkens, and you can't see their face anymore. "Don't leave then," they beg, their voice broken by the cry they stifle. "Stay. You've always been too stubborn to give up. Do it again, like you always do..." Silence is the only answer they get.

Thank you for the ask! 💛

[emchante]

brother’s best friend!carlos who switches your bras with ones that are less smooth and make your nipples stiffen when you use them……. ohh the way you write that lactation kink has me on the ground. he’d totally get a kick out of seeing you embarrassed in public. leaving you needy and then watching your tits leaking in public and telling you something along the lines of “you used to be such a good girl… how come you get so needy in public now? look at you getting your pretty little shirt all wet. such a slut…”

- 🍓

GODD 🍓 YOU CAME BACK WITH A BANGER!! this has me 😵‍💫😵‍💫

18+ content below!

this is definitely something that he does. he goes out of his way to buy rougher bras, ones that’ll cause more friction to your nipples. and one day when he’s visiting you(r brother), he waits for you to leave the room before his mission starts. he sneaks in, going in each drawer to see where your bras reside. he finds your panties before, and his cock stiffens at some of the pretty lacy panties he hasn’t seen you wear before.

when he gets to the drawer with your bras, he opens up his backpack. he grabs the new sets he bought you, slipping them into the drawer before taking your own ones out, and stuffing them into his backpack. he stalks back out of the room, and thankfully, you don’t catch him.

over the next few weeks, he watches as you get more fidgety. you’re constantly adjusting your cups, a confused look painted on your face as you try to fix yourself. other times, he’s watching as you squeeze your thighs together, trying to hold back the moans from escaping as your nipples rub against the fabric of you bra in a different way than usual..

the big kick finally comes when you’re out together one day, shopping at the local mall. you take carlos into a clothing shop, lifting up tons of blouses, shirts, jumpers— you name it, you found something you wanted. carlos urges you to take them into a fitting room, trying on the clothes and he’ll help you out with deciding.

he’s sitting outside of the small room you’re in when he hears a whine escape your lips, and he perks up. “all good, cariño?” he asks, tapping lightly on the door. he hears you gasp, hesitating before you open the door slightly as you urge him in.

carlos enters the room, shutting the door behind him before he finally sets his eyes on you. your cheeks are bright red, tears welling at the corner of your eyes as you hold your swelling tits. carlos notices you’re wearing one of the blouses you liked, but.. but you’re leaking. you leaked through a shirt that wasn’t even yours.

carlos tuts, walking closer as he cups your swell tits in his large hands, giving them a squeeze as a gasp escapes your throat. your nipples leak, the stain on the not-yet bought shirt growing. you shake your head, tears falling now as you beg him to stop.

“c-carlos, no! please, it’s not mines. let me take it off first!”

carlos’ smile curves into a smirk, squeezing your tits harder as he shakes his head. “where are your manners, princesa? you used to be such a good girl, so controlled. and now this?” he lets out lowly, emphasising his last word as he squishes your tits together, a moan escaping from your lips. “so needy, so desperate. can’t even stop yourself from leaking over clothes that aren’t yours,” he continues, moving his thumbs to rub over the wet patches.

your legs buck at his words and you don’t know what overcomes you, but suddenly you’re pushing him back against the wall which surprises you both. his eyes are wide in shock as are yours, but you don’t even have time to process it before you’re begging to rut your needy cunt over his bent leg.

“please, please carlos. i-i don’t know what’s wrong, but i need you. please help me, i’m begging you,” you sob, continuing to hump his leg like a dog in heat.

carlos licks his lips, the feel over your wet cunt against his leg, the sight of your tear stained face and the feel of you’re swollen, wet tits against his chest. how could he deny his girl?

[dreamdragonkadia]

Helllooo me again 😉

another idea i had was maybe comfort for percy after tartarus nightmares. Again mortal reader and her not really understanding but still supports him unconditionally.

Or her writing a love letter for him in full greek since she knows it's easier for him for his birthday and him just loving her for it. And maybe a sally cameo and just her seeing her boy being in love and being loved inreturn

Or annabeth meeting mortal reader and her just being a protective best friend and seeing mortal reader carrying ambrosia for percy and how loving their relationship is and annabeth giving her approval

Again no pressure !!

If you need any ideas I'm definitely your girl

Have a lovely day/night

That first idea is just so cute, so don’t mind if I do!! 💕 If you ever have more ideas or little prompts, don’t hesitate to send them my way—I live for this kind of stuff! My inbox is always open for suggestions, thoughts, or just a chat. Hehe, thank you for reading! p,jackson x mortal!reader

It was strange, something you couldn’t quite wrap your head around. What could press so heavily on Percy’s mind that it haunted his sleep? The way he would jolt awake from a nightmare, his chest heaving like he’d been running for miles. Or how his body twisted and turned in bed, as though he was trying to escape something terrible in his dreams. Then there were the times he cried. Silent, heart-wrenching tears that you’d catch only because you stayed awake longer than you should, reading by the dim light of a bedside lamp.

Those nights, you were always there for him. You didn’t understand what plagued him, not fully, but you didn’t need to. The scars of his past, invisible though they were, weren’t something you needed him to justify. You never pushed him to talk about it if he wasn’t ready.

There were moments you’d try, cautiously, to ask. “Do you want to tell me about it?” you’d murmur, your voice as soft as the moonlight filtering through the curtains. And when he withdrew, retreating into himself like a tide pulling away from shore, you let it go. You held no grudges for his silence. Instead, you’d gather him in your arms, his head tucked beneath your chin, and press kiss after kiss to his hair, each one a quiet assurance that you were there. Your fingers would trace slow circles on his back, a rhythm that said everything you didn’t have the words to express.

It didn’t happen every night, but it happened enough. Enough that you noticed the pattern. Enough that you knew something dark clung to him—a scar so deep it refused to heal. There was one night, though, when he muttered something in his sleep, his voice broken: Tartarus.

You didn’t ask him about it the next day. You wanted to. God, you wanted to. But the fear of prying too deeply, of pulling him into memories he wasn’t ready to face, held you back. Instead, you let it sit, another piece of the puzzle you didn’t need to complete to love him.

And then there were the good nights. Nights when his soft laughter filled the room as the two of you lay tangled on the couch, watching bad movies and eating burnt popcorn because he always left it in the microwave too long. Or when he’d ramble about the ocean, his eyes lighting up like the waves under the sun, and you’d find yourself smiling so wide your cheeks hurt.

You knew the nightmares were part of him, but so were these moments. And maybe you couldn’t chase the monsters from his dreams, but you could be his anchor. You could remind him, in the quiet of the night and the brightness of the day, that he wasn’t alone. That whatever Tartarus was, or whatever battles raged in his mind, he didn’t have to face them by himself.

You’d remind him, with every whispered word, every gentle touch, every second spent by his side: he had you. Always.

[evolnoomym]

liquid smooth 🤍 Pt.2

Mom’s Best-friend!Joel Miller x f!reader

General Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist | Pt.1 🩶 | Support me |

Summary: Life with Joel is all you could have hoped for and with the new reality setting in, you and Joel have some interesting ideas.

Rating: 18+ mature content mdni!!!!

Word count: 2.9k

Authors note: okayyyyy so this was first and foremost a idea for Wifeys @joelmillerisapunk “PPCU Body Worshipping Writing Challenge”

I choose for myself Joel Miller + cock&balls worshipping and then i couldn’t write it down for months. Luckily inspiration found me and now it can be looked at as a continuation of “Washing Machine Heart 🩶”

I hope y’all enjoy 🤍

Warnings: no y/n, F!OC, Moon as always, lotsssss of cum, tempering with food/tea I guess(?), p-in-v action, no protection, creammmmm pies, somnophilia, oral m receiving, finding enjoyment in tears, Daddy Kink, pervy Joel, Sub / Dom vibes, switching roles, biting, overstimulation, cock & ball rings, orgasm denial, cum shot, cum eating, aftercare…If I missed anything please let me know 🙏🏻

Shoutout to @saradika-graphics & @cafekitsune for the dividers 🤍

And shoutout to @joelmillerisapunk & @sunshineispunk for proofreading 😇

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so if you come across mistakes it might be due to that. 😂🫶🏻

After you had been kicked out of your Moms house and moved in with Joel, everything started to settle down. Neither of you had heard from your Mom in weeks and you hadn’t tried reaching out to her either.

You no longer had to live with her or that toxic energy she was made of.

Joel and you were living on cloud nine, fucking anywhere you could at all times. At this point it was impossible that there was a surface left in his house that hasn’t been defiled. 

He’s fucked you in the shower, pushed you against the tiles with ferocious force and pounded you til tears were streaming down your cheeks. He’s slipped inside you from behind in the early mornings when you were barely awake, you had allowed him to do this in a prior discussion and in the end it wasn’t unpleasant waking up to his hips snapping against your own and those rough fingers flicking your clit. 

One morning he had bent you over the kitchen counter, pulled the shirt you stole from him up and over your naked ass before swiftly pushing into your wet pussy. He’d taken you apart right by the open kitchen window and you’d just hoped that the nice elderly lady next door didn’t hear you screaming. 

Another time he’d stopped you from drinking your morning chai tea by tugging your unoccupied hand down to his growing bulge, he nuzzled himself into your neck and whimpered which was music to your ears. Of course you gave into his needs and got down on your knees dutifully, to serve him just the way he liked. You had taken his length down your throat so willingly and swallowed every last drop like a greedy little slut, desperate for his cum. 

Joel came up with a pretty good idea to surprise you. He watched you each morning, pouring a splash of milk into your chai tea and then sipping it while sitting out on the back porch.

It was one of those days where Joel would be up before you and as always he stood in the kitchen prepping your tee. Since he had gotten used to your warm and waiting mouth draining his full balls each morning, his cock obviously still got hard, even when you weren’t there to take care of him. 

Normally he might’ve sneaked into the bedroom, peeled the blanket back and pushed his way into your tight pussy till he filled you up completely. But this time his plan looked different. He pushed his shorts down until his engorged cock bobbed up against his lower belly, one of his enormous hands wrapped itself around his member and he started jerking off frantically. 

“Yeahhhh…babygirl will love Daddy’s milk in her tea, ughhh” he mumbled and groaned while holding his leaking slit right over the beautiful cup you had bought. 

Not long after a generous load splashed into the cup, Joel, who was still buzzing, then topped it off with some normal milk. 

By the time you woke up, came down the stairs and sat down at the table to enjoy breakfast, Joel had cleaned up and put on his poker face. He joined you at the table, pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head as he had placed your drink of choice down in front of you. 

You thanked him before you brought the cup up to your mouth and took a sip. It tasted good, but there was something else to the taste. A slight but welcomed bitterness. 

“Daddy, it tastes good, but did you put something else in there?” You drowsily asked him. 

Joel chuckled at that “Hmmm dunno,” he pretended to think it over, tapping at his chin with his pointer finger, before he continued “well Daddy might’ve put in some special creamer.” He winked at you. 

“Since when do we have creamers ?” You sounded genuinely curious.

“Oh babygirl, you are so cute when ya just woke up…” he shook his head lightly before leaning in. With his lips at your ear he whispered “it’s Daddy’s special Milk.” 

You had let out a stunned gasp and pushed him away by his shoulder, but your face didn’t display anger, no, your cheeks were flushed and you had a dazed smile adorning your face. 

“Oh daddy, you are so naughty,” you mused in a sickly sweet voice. 

“But ya like that, don’t you, Moon, love?” He knew exactly the effect his deep rumbling morning voice had on you. 

“Of course I do, I can never get enough of you.” Yeah. He had you wrapped around one of his beefy fingers. 

After some time, you had shyly suggested trying out to switch the existing roles, till now Joel always took the leading dominant position and you did whatever he wanted. So you didn’t expect him to be so open to giving you the power over him but Joel was no little boy that couldn’t be shown some new tricks, no, he was on board immediately. 

A couple days later, he found himself naked from the hips down, sitting on one of the dining chairs with his arms crossed behind his back. 

“You’re really not gonna tell me what my surprise is, baby?” He tried to manipulate you by sounding extra sweet but you wouldn’t budge. 

“No, I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough what I have in mind for you,” you send him a flirtatious wink and your secretive behavior only encourages his curiosity further. 

Of course as soon as Joel grants you the power over him you take full advantage of it, not only is he supposed to stay seated and refrain from touching you. No. You had additionally put on a matching black lace set. Joel could see your perky nipples calling to him from under the delicate fabric and, apart from tiny black flowers adorning the swell of your breasts, the bra was see-through. 

When you turn away from him, he can't stop groaning at the sight of your perfect ass cheeks, the ones he loves to smack, bite, kiss and lick at any chance, split by the matching black lace thong. 

You ripped him out of his horny thoughts when you got down on all fours. 

“Remember the rules: no touching and you don’t come until I allow you.” You remind him while slowly crawling between his wide spread thighs. 

“Yes, baby, I remember the rules,” he sounds dazed and he is, you kneeling between his legs looking so stunning, was making it hard for him to think. 

“Hmm, that’s a good boy,” you reply and Joel’s cock jumps in excitement, he likes you calling him that wayyyyy more than expected. 

“Fuckkk, Moon, what will ya do to me?” His pitch is getting more whiny and desperate with each word.

“Don’t worry, babyboy, I’ll take good care of you,” you nod reassuringly at him while placing your soft, warm hands upon his knees and stroke all the way up to the crease where his leg meets his hip. Those small yet deliberate touches make more blood rush right to his groin. He’s already pulsing and you haven’t even done much. 

Joel is closer and closer to losing his composure the more you stroke his thighs. You keep almost touching him where he is aching the most, but you stop right before you are about to close your fingers around his cock.

“God, pleaseee, Moon-Love I need ya to touch me…” there’s a strain to his voice and he begins wriggling his hips in hopes your hand might slip and touch him but instead you pull away instantly.

Joel sighs in annoyance, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back to rest between his shoulder blades.

“Mooni, don’t ya think this is enough teasin’ for your old man?” 

“Mhh, no, I think you can handle a little more. You wanna be a good boy for me, don’t you?” 

You clearly want to ruin him completely.

“Hnghh, I do but…-“ He doesn’t get further than that because you decide you’ve had enough of his petulant behavior. All he feels is your teeth sinking into the meat of his thigh.

His head snaps back to look at you in confusion “Ouch, what was that for?” 

“Had enough of your constant whining, besides don’t you dare pretend to be shocked you’ve done the same to me,” you tilt your head,“remember?” 

How could he not? All those hours he spent sucking and biting bruises into your squishy thighs, those were some of his favorite moments.

“‘course I do darlin’…love spending hours with my head between your legs, so close to that pretty pussy.” He fucking winks at you. 

You just roll your eyes and lick soothingly over where you had bitten him. 

“You are such a smooth talker, aren’t you. Think I’m gonna give in if you butter me up?” 

“Well….will ya give in?” Cheeky fucker. 

“Shut up Joel,” you put your hand on his weeping cock and within a split second he breaks the touching rule.

You retract your hand and get up from kneeling. “Hmmm, I gave you enough warnings. You are clearly not a good boy Joel, so we are doing this the hard way.” 

“No, baby, I’m sorry…I didn’t expect it. Pleaseee don’t stop,” there he goes whining again.

You pay no attention to his words, you pick up the secretive little bag and walk behind him.

“Put your hands back where they are supposed to stay,” Joel complies silently.

You pull out a black rope and start looping it around his wrists in a way you know he could easily get out of. 

To your surprise, he doesn’t protest to being tied up. Good choice. It would only get him into more trouble. 

Once you’re done, you step around to be in front of him again, still holding the bag.

“More surprises?” 

“Yeah, I’m not sure how you’ll like it though but there’s no other option… Bad boys need to learn their lesson.” You pull out what looks like two black silicone rings. He knows what he’s in for. You had talked to him about possible practices you two could try out, cock and ball rings were discussed, amongst other things, but you didn’t warn him when it would happen.

You put the dominant role aside momentarily, “Are you okay with this, daddy? I promise I’m gonna be careful to not hurt the goods.” You smile at him but he doesn’t need much more convincing, he knows he can trust you with his treasure. 

“Go ahead, baby, doin’ such a good job for Daddy,” that’s all you need to hear before kneeling once more in front of him. 

You grasp his cock at the base and tilt his member down before spitting on him, quickly your hand slides up and down to spread his pre-cum and your spit all over. 

The first ring is for his juicy, swollen balls. You slip it over his testicles with ease.

“Is it too tight?” You ask.

“Ahh..no- no, sweetheart, it’s okay. New but nothin I can’t handle.” He husks. 

And so the second ring gets slipped down his impressive length. 

He lets out a hiss, takes a few deep breaths and tries to collect himself. You can see beads of sweat running down the column of his throat and the urge to lick them takes over you. You get up fast, holding yourself upright by placing your hands on his thighs. You lean in, open your mouth and let your tongue lick a bold stripe across his racing jugular. His musky, unique taste causes a stirring in your lower belly that you could suppress till now. 

While he adjusts to the rings around his groin, you happily lap up his sweat. 

“Moon?” He panted. 

You stop and stare at him with expecting eyes, waiting for the sign.

He nods and with that, you get back on the ground. You know your knees will definitely be bruised tomorrow but it’s totally worth it. 

For a second you just take in the visual of his manhood, dripping with precum and his cock is twitching ever so often. 

Tentatively, you try to wrap your fingers around him, not adding pressure and yet this is enough to make him moan.

“Baby, ‘m so hard…please make me cum. Please, baby, I’ll do whatever ya want.” 

His eyes are wide and he’s frantically nodding. 

“Shhh, it’s okay, babyboy I got you,” you amp up the grip around his base and you lean closer to spit directly onto his slit.

Unexpectedly, you pick up the speed and your hand makes wet squelching noises as you bring him closer to finishing. 

“Ah..ah…ahhh baby, fuck, don’t stop I’m so close,” Joel is closing his eyes and preparing to let go when you rip your hand away.

“Wh..why did ya stop?” You just laugh at him.

“I told you, you don’t get to cum unless i allow it,” you smirk cruelly. 

When you touch him this time, you use both hands and twist them while jerking him. 

“Ughh Moon, so good baby, you’re being so good for me..” you are marveling at the way Joel becomes a whimpering mess, the man that usually does this to you is now putty in your hands.

You still have some tricks up your sleeve, till now his balls were left untouched but just then your left hand slips down to his heavy sack.

You squeeze and rub them lovingly. Joel on the other side is floating away, he is beyond overstimulated and his balls feel as if they will burst any moment. 

Then you withdraw your hands again.

“No..no..no, baby, no don’t do this,” he is pleading with you “please touch him, I need to cum Moon.” He begs  you with urgency.

“Shh, it’s okay, daddy, you get to finish now.” You were being honest, his warm cum is what you wanted most. It was fun playing with him but now you were satisfied.

Your soft, slippery lips begin littering kisses to his glistening tip. You did that from top to bottom, even giving one to each of his swollen balls. 

“That’s a good girl, give kisses to Daddy’s balls, they produce all the milk I’ll put in your tee and in your cunt.” He laughs and you can’t help but smile.

“Thank you daddy for giving so much of your milk, making sure my belly is filled.” you whisper in between kissing his cock.

“Use your tongue please, baby” He doesn’t need to ask twice before you lick a stripe from his balls to his head. You flick the pointy tip of your tongue at his slit, besides his own juices, your drool was making this ordeal more sloppy and messy with each second. 

In Joel’s mind, the following 30 seconds were nonexistent. He’s sure he must have momentarily passed out or went to some kind of higher headspace. You have to tell him afterwards that in that moment you had let his throbbing length enter your mouth. And he knows that you are not lying because when he regained consciousness, that was the image that greeted him. Your plump lips wrapped around his cock. 

You got him about halfway down your throat before reaching your limit. 

“Jesus Christ, baby, ya gonna kill me,” Joel couldn’t even hear himself properly, he sounded miles away to himself.

Something happens that you could have never predicted: a tear slides down his handsome face and lands on his grey shirt, leaving a dark spot behind. 

A sick part of you wants more of that, so you pull your mouth off him entirely and instead you lick and kiss the sensitive spot at the underside of his dick. You researched before and found out that it’s called “Frenulum”. It supposedly drives men crazy so you wanted to try it out and Joel’s reaction was priceless.

He is so tense, biting his lip, scrunching his eyebrows and those gorgeous thighs of his are twitching, indicating that he must be practically seconds away from coming. 

To give him the final push, you stop licking him and instead place the inside of your palm flat over his leaking slit, rubbing that hand in small and quick circles. 

“Fu..fu..fuck, I..I’m comin’ Moon,” he huffs with his remaining energy. 

All the tension inside Joel snaps and, with a loud yelp, he comes, hot thick white ropes of cum land on your face, chest and ultimately on himself. Joel’s entire body twitches as the rewarding feeling of finally being able to release pressure washes over him. 

The room was silent except for Joel attempting to catch his breath and you have to make it hard for him. You may appear innocent but to Joel you are a little sadistic devil, you just have to swipe some of his cum off your tits before sucking your cum coated fingers into your mouth. 

All while keeping eye contact with him. 

“Hmmm, thank you, daddy, tastes delicious,” you smack your lips together satisfied.

You perk up suddenly. “Shit, sorry Joel, let me take off the rings.” 

You try your hardest to touch his cock and balls carefully. Slowly, you release his sack and then remove the ring that sat at the base of his cock.

You move on to untie him from the chair and then help Joel to the bathroom so he can take a relaxing bath with you.

“Come on, honey, we’ll take a nice bubble bath and then go to bed. How does that sound?” You ask him on the way up the stairs.

“Sounds fuckin’ perfect to me darlin’ “ he mumbles in response. 

Lastly, he adds a soft spoken, “I love you Moon,” 

People that might be interested: @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @toxicanonymity @littlemisspascal @thundermartini @604to647 @magpiepills @mountainsandmayhem @clawdee @alinacecee @josephquinnswhore @sanarsi @papurgaatika @ovaryacted @pedge-page @gutsby 🤍

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[intimidating-fettuccine]

Hii, I hope you're doing well!! This is my first time requesting so I was REALLY nervous :")) I saw some posts about Y/N accidentally calling some of the creeps their "husband", and I was wondering if you could do one with Jeff? I'm really curious of how it would be like with him and I really like him ^^

Listen. Listen. This man has been wormed into my brain for the longest time and my softness for him came out today, and this became like twice as long as I originally meant to to be, because I love him. I honestly ended up wanting it to be longer, but this took me way too long to write, so I cut it short. I hope you enjoy <3

While Jeff would never, ever admit it to anyone, he has spent hours thinking about what it would be like to be married to you. To be married to you, live with you, be able to wake up to you every single day, for everyone around the two of you to fully know you belong to each other. The unfortunate downside to that fact is that Jeff doesn't think he deserves it. He doesn't believe he deserves to be so happily married to you with all of the horrible things he's done, with all the horrible trauma he regularly has to deal with and make you put up with (despite you routinely telling him it doesn't bother you at all and you love him all the same, flaws and all). He thinks you're just far too good for him, and so the bitter, depressed part of his brain constantly tells him that'll never happen.

So, needless to say, Jeff is about to get his shit rocked mentally. The two of you were out and about, and you'd bumped into an old friend (i.e., someone important in Jeff's eyes), and introduced them to Jeff. Jeff, in his attempt to seem like a decent person under the watchful eyes of someone you have known for such a long time, does pull himself off pretty well, at least until you accidentally slip up and refer to Jeff as your husband. He feels like you've just punched him straight in the gut. He can't breathe, his heart is hammering in his chest, and he feels like he's gonna vomit, but he carries on with a passive smile, hiding all of his inner turmoil, keeping it locked inside until the two of you can get away from all of the prying eyes in this public space. The entire way home he still feels like he's gonna be sick, trying everything he can just to keep it together. The second you're through your front door he's wheeling around and pinning you to it, arms beside your head as his chest heaves, eyes slicked with a mixture of tears, confusion, and desperation. You can't tell what's wrong with him, and he can't tell why he's reacting so strongly, his mind foggy amidst his air-deprived anxiety attack. The two of you stand there, your hands comfortingly cupping his face while you coach him to breathe, to calm down.

By the time he's caught his breath, he's leaning on you, his body weighing against you as you rest against the door behind you. His arms are tight around your waist as his face nuzzles against your neck, and you're overcome with intense worry, unaware of what got him like this in the first place. "Did you mean it...?" His voice eventually trails off, and the emotion in his voice is untraceable, his trauma brain overtaking as your words replay in his mind over and over again. Your brows knit together as you try to figure out just what it is he's referring to, and he answers the question for you, saying he meant when you referred to him as your husband. He looks absolutely broken in your arms, and a lightbulb goes off in your mind as you finally realize why. You've heard it, the things he says to Liu, or BEN, his words about how he doesn't deserve you, how you deserve to marry someone better than him, soon followed by their chastising words about how that's not true, and suddenly his worrisome behavior from the last few hours that you've picked up on (because you always notice these things) suddenly makes sense.

You reassure him that of course you meant it, why wouldn't you? Jeff feels like he's being chastised once more, his cheeks puffed out in a pout as he avoids looking at you as you lecture him about how you'd love to marry him one day, and how he absolutely deserves to have you, how you're not too good for him, a lecture you should have given him long ago. He ignores the tears streaming down his face once more, ignores the thudding of his own heart in his chest, ignores the dying voice of denial in the back of his mind, but what he can't ignore is your lips slotting so perfectly against his own, or your fingers stroking along his scars in the way that always makes him fall apart. He's still not completely sure he deserves you, but goddamnit, with the way you're looking at him right now, he's sure as hell not gonna let anyone else marry you and take you away from him. Not with how tenderly you're holding him, how gently you're pressing your lips across his scorched skin, not with how lovingly you're gazing at him, as if he's the most beloved person in your life, because of course he is to you, just as you are to him. 'Husband' ends up becoming one of your favorite nicknames for him following that day, a nickname that always has his skin flushing red and his eyes softening in a way they only do for you. A nickname for now, and a title not too far into the future that he wears with pride.

[atsro-slut]

Hiya lovely! So ima project cause we love that with your amazing writing, but I was thinking about reader who cries very easily and then she gets mad/upset at Remus and when he raises his voice during an argument she just loses it and cries but is too stubborn and mad to let him comfort her? I love a little hurt/comfort now and then to balance out the fluff 🤭 Thank you and enjoy your holidaysss <3

Snowfall and Second Chances

Hi hon!! This one hit super close to home, so I hope I did it well! Enjoy!!

Remus Lupin x female!reader

After a fight with Remus, Y/N's tears won’t stop—no matter how hard she tries. When Remus tries to comfort her, she pushes him away, but he’s not giving up that easily. Can he fix things before Y/N’s stubbornness gets the best of her?

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:☆

The Gryffindor common room was warm and lively, the fire crackling in the hearth as students laughed and relaxed after a long day. But Y/N was not in the mood to enjoy it. She sat stiffly on one of the plush couches, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, a storm brewing behind her eyes. Across from her, Remus Lupin looked just as tense, though he was trying his best to remain calm.

“Y/N,” he started, his voice careful. “I wasn’t trying to embarrass you.”

“Oh, really?” Y/N shot back, her tone sharp. “Because that’s exactly what it felt like, Remus.”

The incident in question had happened during dinner in the Great Hall. Remus had made an offhand joke—something about Y/N’s habit of losing her quill at least once a day—and it had earned a round of chuckles from their friends. But to Y/N, who was already feeling off that evening, it hadn’t been funny. It had felt like a spotlight shining on her in the worst way, and now, hours later, she couldn’t shake the sting of it.

“I wasn’t mocking you,” Remus said, his voice growing firmer as his frustration bubbled beneath the surface. “It was just a joke, Y/N. You know I’d never want to hurt you.”

“Maybe you should think about how your ‘jokes’ sound before you say them,” Y/N snapped, her voice trembling. She could feel the telltale prick of tears threatening to spill over but fought desperately to keep them at bay. Crying would only make this worse.

“Merlin, Y/N!” Remus threw his hands up in exasperation, his voice rising now. “Why are you blowing this so out of proportion? I’ve apologized a dozen times already!”

And that was it. The dam broke.

The first tear slipped down Y/N’s cheek before she could stop it, followed quickly by another. She clenched her jaw, her throat tightening as the sobs she was holding back threatened to escape.

“Don’t,” she said, her voice wobbling as she tried to maintain her composure.

But it was no use. Once the tears started, there was no stopping them.

Remus’s frustration evaporated the moment he saw her cry, replaced instantly by regret. “Y/N...” he said softly, reaching out to her.

“Don’t,” she said again, pulling away from him and wiping furiously at her cheeks. “I don’t need your sympathy right now, Remus.”

“But—”

“No!” she cut him off, her voice breaking. “You raised your voice, Remus. You never raise your voice. And now you want to comfort me? Forget it.”

Y/N stood abruptly, wrapping her arms around herself as if to shield her heart. She was too upset, too stubborn to let him close. Every part of her wanted to retreat, to hide away until the tears dried and the ache in her chest faded.

“I’m going to bed,” she said, her voice tight as she turned toward the stairs leading to the girls’ dormitory.

“Y/N, please don’t go like this,” Remus called after her, his voice gentle again.

But Y/N didn’t stop. If she turned around, she might crumble, and she wasn’t ready for that.

The dormitory was quiet and dark, but Y/N couldn’t sleep. She lay curled up under her blankets, staring at the ceiling as her emotions churned. She hated fighting with Remus. He was usually so patient, so kind. But tonight had been different, and she didn’t know how to bridge the gap between them.

She thought about his apology, about the hurt in his voice when he’d tried to explain himself. Maybe she had overreacted. Maybe. But that didn’t make her pain any less real.

Eventually, her exhaustion won out, and she drifted off into a restless sleep.

The next morning, Y/N woke up to the pale light of dawn streaming through the curtains. Her head felt heavy, and her eyes were puffy from crying. She groaned softly, sitting up and hugging her knees to her chest.

There was a soft knock on the dormitory door.

“Y/N?”

It was Remus.

She froze, her heart leaping into her throat.

“I know you’re probably still upset with me,” he said through the door. “But... I made you something. Can I show you?”

Curiosity got the better of her. She slipped out of bed, tying her robe around her before opening the door just a crack.

Remus stood there, holding a steaming mug in one hand and a small, folded piece of parchment in the other. His expression was soft, his eyes full of remorse.

“I made you hot chocolate,” he said, holding out the mug. “And... I wrote this.”

He handed her the parchment, and she opened it slowly. Inside was a short note, written in his neat handwriting:

Dear Y/N, I’m sorry for last night. I should have been more careful with my words, and I shouldn’t have raised my voice. You mean the world to me, and the last thing I want is to hurt you. Please let me make it up to you. Love, Remus.

Y/N felt a lump rise in her throat as she read the note. She looked up at him, her eyes swimming with fresh tears—not of anger this time, but of gratitude.

“Remus,” she said softly.

“Can I come in?” he asked hesitantly.

She nodded, stepping aside to let him in.

They sat together on the edge of her bed, the hot chocolate warming her hands as they talked.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Remus said, his voice earnest. “Sometimes I forget that you feel things so deeply, and that’s one of the things I love about you. But I was thoughtless, and I’m sorry.”

“I overreacted,” Y/N admitted, her voice small. “I know you didn’t mean to embarrass me. I was just... tired and sensitive, and then when you raised your voice, it just hit me harder than it should have.”

“You have every right to feel the way you feel,” Remus said gently. “And I’ll do better to remember that.”

Y/N looked at him, her heart swelling with affection. “And I’ll try not to be so stubborn next time.”

“Deal,” he said with a small smile.

She leaned against him, letting his warmth and steady presence soothe her. For the first time since the argument, she felt at peace.

By the time they left the dormitory, the sun was fully up, casting a golden glow over the castle. Y/N and Remus walked hand in hand, the tension of the previous night replaced by a renewed sense of closeness.

“I was thinking,” Remus said as they made their way to the Great Hall, “maybe we could go for a walk later. Just the two of us. I hear the forest trail is beautiful in the snow.”

Y/N smiled up at him, her heart feeling lighter than it had in days. “I’d like that.”

And as they stepped into the warmth of the Great Hall, Y/N realized that even the most challenging moments could bring them closer—because with Remus, every storm eventually gave way to sunshine.

[minju4won]

anything for my girl

pairing: hyung line enhypen x fem reader

sypnosys: when they have a fight over you after you've been harassed

warning: blood, fight, harassment

author note: i hope u likeeeeeed, if there is a problem in writing sorry english is not my first language. espero q les gustee

LEE HEESEUNG

it was the New Year's party, after eating the grapes on the bells with their families, you guys gathered for the first party of the year. you were very excited, since it was the first party of the year, however, your boyfriend did not. your boyfriend wanted to stay at home writing and producing songs.

after several pleas on your part, he had accepted.

you guys were at the bar ordering a couple of drinks for you and your friends.

"babe, i´m going with my friends, you will be okay?" he murmured in your ear.

you nodded. "of course, hee. have fun!" you said giving a kiss in his lips, you felt his hands surrounding your waist.

he separated and touched his head with yours while touching your cheek.

"please, be careful" he said separated from you. you saw how he walked away from you and approached your friends. you grabbed the glass from the bar and walked over to your friend.

after a few minutes--or hours-- and a little--or very-- drunk, you were in the middle of the dance floor dancing with your friend. you didn't even know what song was playing. you think it is a spanish song, or russian, whatever.

you felt a hand in your waist and you turned around excited thinking you were going to see a boyfriend, but it was not him. instead you saw an unknown face.

you frowned as you walked away from him.

"oh, did i scare you?" he said approaching you. "you know something? you are the most beautiful girl in this party"

you grimaced when you heard it.

"boy, she´s not into you" your friend said.

"i can change her mind. c´mon baby, let´s go to the bathroom" he said holding your hand.

"please, can you leave me alone?" you said trying to separate yourself from him.

"are u okey, sweetie?" you heard your bf voice in your ear. you look at him and he saw your uncomfortable face. "you have a problem with my girl?" heeseung said when he saw how he had your hand grabbed.

"is that your girl? man you are lucky"

you felt heeseung's hands squeeze your waist. you know he was angry.

"tell me, bro. how you could you find a woman with that big ass"

suddenly you were screaming. heeseung had thrown himself at him. you just heard the punches that your boyfriend was giving. your friend pulled you away from the fight, and in a few seconds, there was a crowd surrounding them.

you heard the screams and the tears ran down your cheeks. after a couple of smacks, heeseung stood up to walk over to you and caress your cheeks, making sure you were okay.

"the next time i will kill u" he said intertwining your fingers to take you out of the premises.

PARK JONGSEONG

you are excited, more than excited. it was your first time in a water park.

when your boyfriend found out that you had never been in a water park, he immediately bought some tickets online. and there you guys were, in the pool after riding a slide. the only noise that could be heard was your laughter, and for jongseong, your laughter was live.

you went around his neck and gave him a little kiss.

"omg, this is so fun! we have to come more often" you said with a laugh

"anything for my girlfriend"

"i'll go buy something at the store, do you want something to eat?" you said separating from him.

"the same as you" you smiled when you heard him and you left the pool to approach the bar.

there was a huge line, you couldn't help but roll your eyes.

you crossed your arms as you waited your turn, but you couldn't help but feel uncomfortable when you noticed some glances behind you. you turned around and noticed a group of men looking at you morbidly. you looked ahead to see if there was a lot of tail left, but the tail hadn't even moved.

you closed your eyes in disgust when you heard what they were saying about you.

"hey darling, are u alone?" you heard to your left, you opened your eyes and could see a man belonging to the group.

you looked down, determined to ignore him. but what you didn't expect was the way he grabbed your arm.

"c´mon, sweet, you think i don't know you wore that bikini for us? i know what whores like you look like."

you opened your eyes in surprise. "excuse me?"

"come with us" he said approaching you, but you quickly pulled away and left the line.

you tried not to cry so that your boyfriend wouldn't notice the incident, but he knows you well enough.

"babe, where is the food?"

"i don´t have hungry. if you have you can go"

"hey y/n, what happened? you okey?" he asked when he saw your sad expression

you sat in the hammock and covered your face with your hands.

"nothing important"

"hey babe, look at me" he said kneeling before you as he grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him. "tell me what happened"

you felt the tears running down your cheeks.

"a group of men started to sexualize me, babe. then one of them called me a whore and wanted to force me to go with them." you said through tears “i feel so humiliated”.

you felt his hands on your cheeks. “don't be ashamed, it wasn't your fault. you are the kindest woman i've ever seen"

you looked up when you felt that look. “it was them.”

your boyfriend quickly looked at them angrily. “wait for me here, i won't be long, ok?”

you saw your boyfriend get up and disappear from your sight. at first, you didn't think anything of it, but as the minutes passed, you began to worry too much. because of this, you got up and inspected the place. you knew your boyfriend was there because of the moans of pain.

you ran and could see the group of men on the ground. you frowned and looked up.

your boyfriend was full of blood and had the one who spoke to you by the neck.

"i swear to God, if you ever say another word to my girl again, i will cut out your tongue."

SIM JAEHYUN

to be honest, you don't like fights, but when you saw how that girl pushed you for no reason, you ended up in one.

after being in the library all day, you and your boyfriend decided to go to the cafeteria. after getting your drinks, you left the cafeteria with your boyfriend. you were talking until you got a shove.

"omg, i´m sorry" you said bending down to pick up her things.

"if you could watch where you're going, you wouldn't bump into people." she said with angry.

you frowned as you listened to it. "well, you pushed me" you said getting up, throwing the girl's things on the floor.

you could see his mouth open in surprise when she saw what you did.

"are u stupid? pick it up! it was your fault!"

you felt your boyfriend's hand on your waist, giving you a little warning.

"it was no one's fault, they just crashed into each other" said jaehyun trying to smooth the situation.

"i will not leave until this disrespectful woman apologizes."

you raised your eyebrows in surprise. "disrespectful? want to see how disrespectful i am?"

"please, baby, let's get out of here" your bf said in your ear. you were going to be what your boyfriend said, until you heard a masculine voice

"what's going on here?" said a man next to the girl.

did you see how the girl pouted. "this girl pushed me and threw my stuff, now she was insulting me. i just told her to apologize to me"

you let out a wry laugh. for her that was insulting?

"this whore is it bothering you?"

"what´s wrong with you, man?" asked your boyfriend, nudging him.

"i just can't stand uneducated bitches like her."

it all happened so fast for you, your boyfriend was hitting the guy while his girlfriend was screaming and yelling. suddenly, there was a circle shouting among them, you could hear how they were betting on jaehyun and others on the other boy.

fortunately, the fight didn't last long, as the cafeteria security came out to intervene.

you quickly bent down to check your boyfriend's condition, he had bruises and blood on his lips, but fortunately the other one was worse.

you caressed his cheek while you looked with disgust at his wounds.

"you fought for me" you said with surprise. your boyfriend was the type who didn't like street fights, and who stayed out of arguments.

"anything for you"

PARK SUNGHOON

after variations of your boyfriend's requests, you were at the shopping mall. according to him, you needed new clothes, even though you had bought clothes last week.

"this one looks good" he said putting a pink dress in your sight.

you looked at the price and denied. "this is so expensive, sunghoon"

"money is not a problem. you can try it on and if you don't like it, leave it."

you smiled at him and took the dress away from your boyfriend and approached the staff.

"excuse me, do you have a size M?" you said as you looked at the dress, it was beautiful.

"see what we have here, the fuckin miss y/n" you looked up at the familiar voice.

swallowed saliva at the sight of your ex-boyfriend.

"do you have a size M?" you repeated trying to ignore his smile.

"i wonder what you're doing shopping at the PRADA store? maybe today you charged more for your fancy functions?"

"can you do your job well?" you rolled your eyes when you heard his laugh.

you couldn't understand how in high school you could date him. he wasn't nice to you, he wasn't the prettiest guy in your class either, plus he cheated on you. what did you see in him?

"i cannot understand what I saw in you" he murmured with disgust.

"it´s all right here, love?" felt sunghoon's hand on your hip.

you heard your ex-boyfriend's laughter. "so you have a new boyfriend?"

you looked at sunghoon and he could tell at a glance who he was. you had told him repeatedly that he was the one who gave you the most insecurities in your adolescence and that he still haunts you to this day.

"do you have a problem with my girl?"

"you are the one who will have a problem with her, you know that in high school she was the sluttiest in her class? i wouldn't be surprised if it stayed the same" he laugh "but at least in bed she's amazing. i still remeber her-"

he couldn't finish because suddenly your boyfriend had him by the neck next to the wall.

"who do you think you are to talk about my girlfriend like that?" he said, squeezing him tighter. you heard your ex's moans of pain, but you didn't feel sorry for him. "you are nobody."

"you listen to me? you are nobody, just a piece a shit." he said, punching the wall several times.

he finally pulled away and straightened his shirt, grabbed you by the waist and pulled you close to him.

"bring her size M"

[liquidcatt]

your boyfriend writes a letter to come to terms with your death

cw: angst, maybe ooc, slight comfort, mention of car accident, grieving process, no happy ending, implied s*icide, lots of tears are shed

My dear Y/N,

It's been a few years since your passing. I struggled to write this so I apologize if it sounds like I’m rambling. I want to get this off my chest right now before I regret not doing it later. 

Before I met you, I was not a fan of Christmas. Like, at all. It brought back memories from my childhood. Memories that reminded me of a different time before life showed its ugly face. Memories that I use to look back on with contempt and melancholy. Memories that honestly I would wish to forget. Memories that basically made me not want anything to do with it at all.

I remember it like it was yesterday: I got invited to an early Christmas party by one of my friends and I saw you being dragged through the crowd by your sister, wanting to introduce me to you. I was aloof with you at first as you weren’t too into the holiday spirit either to even have a casual chat with me. But as we talked, however, I felt myself being drawn to you. Like someone was telling me that you were one. And they were right. Some say it was a slow burn romance in the making, but screw it, I didn’t care. Seeing your face turn bright red when I asked for your number before you left so we could keep contact was the highlight of the night. Honestly it felt like I was in high school all over again; asking the cute girl next to me in class if she wanted to go out with me. I don’t regret that night and I’m glad you didn’t too. 

Every Christmas with you was so different, I was so happy to share it with you. We’d watch all those cheesy Christmas movies and sometimes do little commentaries on how stupid they were. Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas Is You” was always blasting on the radio as we drove home from dinner. On certain nights, I’d get into my winter clothes excitedly so we could go outside to see the snowflakes fall from the sky, feeling their wet kisses land on my cheeks. Your family was so fun to be around. Your parents were a little old-fasioned, but I was happy they welcomed me with open arms. I even got to meet some of your young cousins; they were so adorable, I hoped that we would've started a family as well. I will always cherish those memories of you. The memories that made me remember my childhood and how much I took them for granted. I wish I could tell myself that things would get better and that I would find my soulmate. 

But as they say, life showed its ugly face yet again, only this time it took you away from me forever. Your mother woke me up one day, screaming on the phone and told me that you had gotten into a car accident. I can still hear the sound of her crying echo in my mind. I hate it so much. It was raining heavily and they said your car had slipped off the road and crashed into a nearby tree. You died on impact. Seeing your body in the coffin was like something out of a nightmare. It had to be right? My mind kept screaming that you were just asleep and that this wasn’t real. But it was. You were dead. I wanted to console your parents, but I held my tongue and stayed silent. After that, things were never the same.

To ease the pain, I watched all the movies that we use to snuggle together. I’m listening to your favorite Christmas songs over and over again, singing my heart out like you did. The ugly sweater you gave me one year to match yours is still hidden away somewhere in my closet. I have no desire to wear it unfortunately. My friends try their best to cheer me up during this time, like visiting the places you used to frequent and eating at your favorite restaurants. They’d also check up on me to make sure that I don’t do anything stupid. Yeah right. Like I would ever. I’m too much of a coward to even try. I’d visit your family once in a while to chat with them. Your parents told me that I was always welcome in their home, but it does little to heal the gaping wound in my heart. They let me have some of your belongings as they didn’t have the heart to get rid of them. The grief of losing you took a toll and I can see it on their faces. You and your mother look so alike, it was almost like talking to you again. The wrinkles on her face get worse and worse every day. I swear she looks like she had been crying for a long time and I can’t blame her. Your dad is a hard-working man. He worked a lot to make sure you got everything you wanted. And your sister, I never got to thank her for introducing me to you. She has no idea how much I would’ve loved to get married. The more I see them, the more guilt I feel festering in my throat. I feel like I let them down; I felt like I let you down. 

But that’s not what I’m writing this letter though. No, I’m writing this letter to tell you that these past few years were some of the best and I wish that I had more time to spend them with you. The truth is Y/N, you made me love Christmas again. And I miss it so much. I miss you. I miss being excited to see the presents nestled under the tree waiting to be opened. I miss the ornaments on the tree you would decorate as they swayed slightly like they were waving. I miss holding your hand as we walk the streets at dusk admiring the Christmas lights hanging on the houses and shops. I miss making cookies with you even if they didn’t always turn out perfect. I miss falling asleep next to you on the couch as we struggled to stay awake to see Santa. As long as I was with you, everything was okay. You were what Christmas was always about: being with the people you love.

What’s even the point of celebrating it anymore? I know that you would tell me that you wouldn't have wanted this. You’d hold me in your arms cupping my face to wipe away the tears, saying you wouldn't want me to be sad. No way in hell that would you have let me stay cooped up in my room either, shut away from the world. You’d tell me to be happy and remember you in a positive light. You’d want me to celebrate Christmas with everyone who loves and cares about him. But you aren’t here to tell me any of that. You're gone. And I have to accept that.

As I’m writing this, it’s only a few more hours until Christmas. This year has gone by so fast. I bought a small, white cake at the last minute at some store nearby that's open till midnight. It was the cheapest one I could afford as I’m short on cash right now. It’s plain, but simple, just how you would’ve liked it. You didn’t care if anything I bought was expensive or not. 

I still live in the apartment we shared together. This ‘home’ that was once full of radiance and mirth for a time is now replaced with a dark, melancholy ambience. It’s so different without you. I have trouble sleeping because I instinctively turn and expect to see you laying next to me. The other side of the bed is cold, I miss looking at your peaceful face while you slept. I took a picture of the cake and sent it to your family and some of my friends. They all loved it and I’m sure you would’ve too. 

There’s so much more I want to say, but this is all I'm able to get out. If you're looking down from heaven right now, always know that I’ll always keep a piece of you in my heart until my dying day. I love you and that feeling will never change. Merry Christmas Y/N. 

Love you always, Your boyfriend

Kageyama, Tendou, Tsukishima, Akaashi, Suna, Kuroo, Ushijima (+ your fav)

a/n: One of my managers at work had a daughter who died that loved Christmas and it was never the same for her :’(

[lucijawriteswords]

losing it | trevor zegras

summary: you and trevor have hit a rough patch recently, with covid and him being away and all, and everything comes to a head over his tournament.

warnings: 18+ SMUT!!! kissing, oral (m receiving). grossly emotional. some fluff. once again relatively tame. once again, unedited. apologies.

word count: 3.9k

A/N: hello hello! firstly, i cannot thank you all enough for your love. i’m absolutely floored. please, continue to let me know how you feel, who you want me to write about, what you want me to write about. it’s all for you anyways. for those of you who love whiny, obedient, indulgent hockey boys, this one is for you. for those of you who prefer the other kind: be patient with me. he’s on the way and he’s worth the wait. yes, the timelines probably don’t line up perfectly. yes, the logistics of everything are off. but you’re probably not here for that ;). i invite you to enjoy this little piece of me. until next time.

18+ below the cut

Z❤️: I don’t think u should come to the tourney

your entire body stilled as you read the message banner on the top of your phone screen. you had to be seeing things. your thumb was shaky as you moved it up to click on the notification. you blamed it on the train.

and there it was. you weren’t seeing things. trevor actually said you shouldn’t go to his tournament.

now, if it was any other tournament, you would’ve probably given in. said yes, settled for just seeing him on facetime. but this was his last time playing for the national team as a junior, a team he had grown up with, a team that was his family, and by extension, yours. you and trevor had been together for years, since you were both fifteen. his friends clowned you two endlessly for it, stating that there was no way it would work out in the big picture, that it was just a teenage thing, and it would end when you guys turned twenty.

you’d never even considered their words until now.

Y/N🌹: wdym?

awful answer, but you truly couldn't figure out what he meant. or rather, if he meant it.

Z❤️: Think I made it pretty clear when I said u shouldn’t come to the tourney. We have the whole covid bubble and I’m not gonna pretend its been sunshine and rainbows w us the past few weeks cause it hasnt

Y/N🌹: ok

Z❤️: Ok? U don’t care?

you scoffed.

Y/N🌹: i care trevor i just don’t wanna argue with you about this. ur obviously pretty convinced i shouldn’t be there so i’m not gonna try and change ur mind abt it

Z❤️: Ok then

Z❤️: I love you

Y/N🌹: i love you more. can we talk more a bit later?

read 4:13pm

you laughed bitterly, trying to ignore the tears stinging your eyes. the screen above the door signaled your stop and you stood, making your way off the train. the boston air was cold, seemingly clawing it’s way through your coat and hoodie and sinking it’s claws into your already wounded heart.

you felt tears, cold on your face. you wiped them away quickly, scolding yourself mentally. get over it, it’s not like he broke up with you. it’s just a tournament. he’ll have more tournaments in his life.

your hand, already cold, seemingly rattled as it pushed the door open to your apartment building. once you were in the elevator, your keys seemed to evade you, playing a game of hide and seek in your bag. huffing in annoyance, you slung the bag off your shoulder, setting it down on the floor of the elevator and rifling through the contents harshly. finally, you located the bastards, seizing them triumphantly, trying with every bit of your being to ignore the usa hockey keychain with his initials on the back. the elevator door ground it’s way open and you stepped out as quickly as possible, muttering to yourself, “hate that fuckin’ elevator.”

the aforementioned bastardized keys jingled loudly as you shoved the correct one into the lock. you twisted it, pushing the door open with your other hand before harshly removing the jesting hunk of metal and tossing it away. the metallic thud and halting of jingling as it landed somewhere was therapeutic to your aching mind.

as you flopped down onto the couch, you realized that all you wanted was to lay down and go to bed. so what if it was only 4:30? it was cold, dead winter in boston, your boyfriend wasn’t home, and you didn’t have anything to do because you didn’t have to pack anymore. you should’ve felt relief, right? no responsibilities, half a month without in person classes, no plane tickets and masks and new, scary airport rules, no name tags around your neck and no girls giggling and groaning right behind you over trevor. but you didn’t feel relief. you’d grown to love the chaos, to understand it and want it. hockey was one of the most important things in trevor’s life, and he was one of the most important things in yours, so hockey became integral to your life too. you learned the ins and outs, befriended his teammates, went to practices and sometimes even dryland, just to see him to what he loved.

it had changed a lot over the past year or so, with him being drafted and then covid. he wasn’t playing in california yet, so there was that, but it was at the forefront of his mind, and you could tell. that’s not to say he wasn’t finding success in college hockey, but his mind was obviously elsewhere. you’d never brought it up until a few weeks ago, when he was about to leave to enter the covid bubble for the juniors tournament. it was the night before he left when you finally brought it up.

two weeks ago

“hey z?”

he lifted his head from whatever he was looking at on his phone. “mhm?”

you walked over and sat down on the couch next to him. “i just want you to know that i’m here for you and you can talk to me.”

his face immediately screwed up and you felt your stomach drop. “what? why’re you saying that? did i do something wrong?” defensive.

you steadied yourself with an inhale. “no, but i just wanted to make sure you knew. i can tell there’s been a lot on your mind recently.”

he scoffed. “yeah, whatever.” his gaze returned to his phone.

“whatever? trevor, are you being serious?”

“yeah, y/n, i am.” he shot back, his gaze fiery as it collided with yours again. “ i’m fine, i don’t know what your deal is.”

“i never said you weren’t fine.”

“no, but you said i don’t seem focused.”

you furrowed your brow and shook your head, incredulous. “i did not say that. i said you seem like you have a lot on your mind.”

“same difference. what, am i not paying enough attention to you? am i playing poorly? what’s wrong with me now, y/n? what am i failing at? god, you’re stupid sometimes.”

you were stunned, jaw slack as you took in his words. you saw the recognition in his eyes, noticed the way his mouth opened to retract his words and offer a shitty apology, the way his torso rotated towards you and he held up a hand as an ask for forgiveness as he was about to defend himself.

your response was automatic.

“i don’t know why you’re asking what’s wrong with you now because, if i recall, and forgive me if i don’t because i’m so stupid, i’ve said jack shit to you about how much attention you give me or how you play. do you honestly think i care? news flash, i don’t. i don’t fucking care how you play! i don’t care if you don’t score, or get an assist, i wouldn’t fucking care if you didn’t put a single point up all season! because i care about you. i care about if you’re having fun and feeling proud of yourself for how hard you work. i love being able to do it all with you, trevor, but if you’re going to call me stupid for caring about you, i can definitely let you do it on your own.”

it was his turn to be floored.

after a pregnant pause filled with his confused eyes searching your face and your eyes almost letting go of their tears, his voice cut through. “you’re breaking up with me?” you weren’t imagining the tremble in his voice or the watering of his eyes.

“no, trevor, i’m not breaking up with you.” you sniffled, wiping under your eyes with the cuff of your hoodie. his hoodie. “i don’t think i could do that even if i wanted to. i’m just saying you don’t get to be mean to me-” your voice faltered, tears truly flowing now. you tried to keep your sobs inside, feeling the cushion you were on dip as trevor scooted over to you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. you let go, cried into his chest, fingers clutching the back of his sweatshirt. you felt him crying too, the way his back shook and the wetness in the crook of your neck where his head was nestled. you shifted to be on top of him, legs straddling his, but there was nothing sexual about it. you just needed to be as close to him as you could be and you knew he needed you too.

trevor cried and cried and cried. you weren’t even hurt by what he said anymore. you’d known something was bugging him, that his mind wasn’t completely in it, but the way he cried- loud and hard and full of hurt- made you sad. it made you angry.

when you started to feel him twitch and hiccup, gasping for air in between sobs, barely getting air in, you knew your time in silence had ended. “baby, can you look at me?” he just squeezed you tighter and let out another sob into your neck. “honey, please.” he sniffled, reluctantly drawing his face away from your neck. your eyes filled with tears again at the sight of his face: lips and nose red and puffy, cheeks stained with tears, his eyes swollen and bloodshot. you brought your hands to cradle his head, thumbs swiping gently under his eyes. he melted into your touch.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered, so quiet and tearful you weren’t sure you heard it.

“thank you.” you whispered back, bringing your lips to his forehead and kissing it lightly.

“you’re not stupid. you’re the smartest person i know. i’m just-“ he took a deep breath, willing the tears away from his eyes. “just been really hard lately and i haven’t had an outlet. shouldn't have said that to you. i didn’t mean it.”

“i know, baby. i’m not mad. just wish you hadn’t said it. do you wanna talk?”

he nodded. “yeah, i wanna get it off my chest.”

“i’m listening.”

“i just don’t know if i’m good enough. i’m scared i’m not gonna make it in the league and i’m not gonna do well at worlds. i’m scared i’m gonna let the school team down, scared i’m not doing enough for you or that you’re gonna stop loving me. i don’t know,” he finished with a big sigh.

your eyes searched his face as you formulated an answer. “well, one thing i can promise you is that i’m not gonna stop loving you. and you’re doing more than enough. why do you think that i would stop loving you?”

“i dunno. i’m just in my head.”

“so get out,” you joked, trying to lighten the mood even the littlest bit.

a small smile made its way onto his face. “ha ha.”

“i’m serious, trev. i’m not going to stop loving you. nothing could make me. even if, somehow, life leads us separate ways- and i don’t think it will- i will always have love in my heart for you.”

he nodded with a sniffle, absorbing your words.

while he was in a talking mood, you decided to get the other one out of the way as well. “why’re you so concerned about hockey all of a sudden? you’ve been playing great here, your coaches at camps in california had nothing but good things to say. what’s up?”

“i’m not really sure. i guess i’m just in my head again. i compare myself to other players. like, jack went fucking first overall. he’s not even playing in the tournament because he’s in the nhl. and the guys that are coming, like coley and turcs, they both went above me in the draft. i just- i don’t know. i have the same training and experience and everything as those guys but i feel like i’ll underperform once we all get to the nhl.”

you just nodded, unable to find the right words. you knew how trevor was with hockey. he got in his head and convinced himself he wasn’t good enough even though he was beyond talented.

“i’m sorry,” was all you could muster.

he shakes his head, hair bouncing. “don’t be. not your fault.” a yawn breaks from his mouth.

“tired?” you hum, placing your head into the crook of his neck and shoulder, nuzzling into him. he lets his head fall sideways and rest on top of yours, his fingers lazily trailing up your sides. he hums an agreement and without another words carries you into the bedroom, sleepy apologies and ‘i love yous’ falling from both of your lips as you drift off.

now

breaking out of your reverie, you realized you were very cold. and your phone had stopped buzzing. standing up with creaky joints, you slipped your phone onto the wireless charger on the coffee table and flipped the heat up a couple degrees, padding into you and trevor’s shared bedroom to grab a sweatshirt.

tugging the garment over your head, you grabbed your favorite soft blanket from the end of the bed and made your way back to the couch to settle in and watch something.

a few minutes into your tv show, your phone screen lit up as it regained its charge, messages and snapchats pouring in.

from one person.

you almost broke the remote with how quickly you slammed the pause button, grabbing your phone with the charger still attached and clutching it tight, immediately opening you and trevor’s messages.

5:07pm

Z❤️: I can talk now if u wanted

Z❤️: Sorry to leave you on read we had a team meeting that I didn’t know about

Y/N🌹: it’s ok

Y/N🌹: should i call u?

Z❤️: Wait one sec

your brows furrowed.

Z❤️: Ok click on this

a banner appeared at the top of your screen from the wallet app:

New Boarding Pass from Southwest Airlines

your heart quite nearly fell out of your body. what kind of joke was he playing at?

Y/N🌹: trev r u serious

Y/N🌹: what kind of joke is this cause i’m not laughing

Z❤️: I’m going to explain everything rn

Y/N🌹: um hell yes you are

Z❤️: Rawr 🐱

despite yourself, a snort escaped your nose.

Y/N🌹: stop being funny and explain

Z❤️: During practice I just wasn’t playing well and a bunch of the guys were chirping me saying ‘how can you keep that bird if you can barely keep a puck’ and other bullshit like that and it just got under my skin

Y/N🌹: t don’t listen to them they’re full of shit

Y/N🌹: you know you’re talented

Z❤️: I know

Z❤️: I miss you so much

Y/N🌹: i miss you more

Y/N🌹: but i don’t understand the ticket. that’s not that bad of a chirp

Z❤️: I just really need you to be here and I’m sorry I didn’t realize it earlier

you smiled, your thumbs flying across the screen of your phone.

Y/N🌹: what airport do i fly into?

Z❤️: It’s all on the boarding pass baby just pack whatever you need for a few weeks cause u change outfits all the time and figure out a ride to the airport

Z❤️: I can order you an uber to the airport?

Y/N🌹: no baby that’s okay you’ve done way more than enough

Y/N🌹: trevor i love you so much

Z❤️: Im not tired I wanna keep talking to you

Z❤️: Can we ft while you pack?

Y/N🌹: you’re perfect

3 days later

the noises of the airport surrounded you as you made your way through the tunnel off the plane, your overfilled carryon and heavy backpack giving your back a run for its money.

waiting by the baggage claim was treacherous. your phone was going crazy in your hand.

Y/N🌹: just landed, waiting by baggage claim

Z❤️: Ok I am outside the baggage claim door

Z❤️: I have a hat and mask on so you might not recognize my wonderful hair or gorgeous face but i have this red and navy usa hky puffer thingy on

Y/N🌹: ur such a weirdo

Y/N🌹: who taught u the word puffer miss girly girl

Z❤️: Shush

Z❤️: Just get your bagggggggggg and come out here I miss you

you smiled at your phone and shut it off, looking at the spinning track, willing your bag to come out quickly.

you bounced impatiently on the balls of your feet as the gray suitcase made its way around, grabbing the handle excitedly and hauling it off the track as it got to you.

the wheels thrummed against the linoleum as you popped the handle up and scurried your way out the door, thanking the employee standing nearby.

the automatic doors squealed on their tracks as your suitcase wheels rattled over the concrete, turning as you exited the doors in a search for trevor. your eyes searched left and right for the navy and red puffer he said he’d be wearing, and when your eyes landed on him, your knees nearly buckled.

“trevor!” you shouted out excitedly, throwing a hand up in the air and waving at him, an unfiltered and toothy and real smile breaking onto your face.

you could practically see him smile even with the mask, walked him step quickly through people until he was clear, then break into a run the last few paces.

his chest collided with you in a bone crushing, devastating hug, a hug that said i’m sorry. i love you. please let me keep loving you. your arms wound around his back, hands digging into his jacket and you buried yourself into him.

“missed you so much, honey. i’m so sorry.” he murmured into your hair, pressing kisses onto your head through the mask.

you nodded, lifting your head from his chest, your eyes meeting. “let’s go to the car, yeah?” you nodded again, following him.

the streets and parking garage were near empty, a strange phenomenon around an airport. trevor’s grip on your hand was tight as he led you to the car, squeezing every now and again, like he couldn’t believe that you were there.

once your bags were in the car and you were sitting next to him in the passenger seat, the atmosphere between you changed drastically. tension shimmered between you two like hot air rising above the blacktop. his hand found its home on your thigh, drawing light circles, making you shiver.

his gaze strayed to you, eyes brimming with something that looked a lot like love, but more like want.

“how far is the hotel?” you breathed out, your true intentions on full display. and why wouldn’t they be?

“bout 45 minutes.” trevor responds, his hand simultaneously moving further up your thigh, nearing your clothed center. you squirmed, crossing your legs, leaning towards him.

“plenty of time, then.” you murmured as you moved your hands towards his zipper, towards what you wanted. you fiddled with the zipper tag, trailing your fingernails across the seam covering his bulge. “come on baby, don’t tease me.” he ground out, taking a turn a little to sharp when you scratched your nails down his denim clad thigh.

“or what, z? what’re you gonna do to me? gonna make me pay?” how you would love for him to make you pay.

he whined, the leather of the steering wheel groaning as his grip tightened. “please, baby. please. you’re killing me. i won’t make you pay, ill be so good when we get there, baby, ill do whatever you want.” he sputtered, turning off of the main road onto some side street away for the noise of an inner city airport.

a grin snaked onto your face, finally pulling his zipper down, almost salivating at the sight of this bulge of his pretty cock in his boxers. you shimmied his pants down, fingers digging into his rigid thighs, nails leaving crescent moons in the flesh. he huffed out something between a moan and a sob, head lolling to the side. “please, baby, please, just touch me. please, i’ll be good.”

“if you insist.” you cooed evilly, trailing a feather light fingertip over him through his boxers.

incredibly, finally, you took him in your hand, pumping him through his boxers, the soft fabric gliding along him, coaxing a moan from his pretty mouth.

trevor’s eyes, which had never strayed from the road, flared and his hips lifted pathetically in the air, searching for something, anything to relive the ache in his cock.

your core clenched around nothing at the sight of him, of his pathetic and desperate thrusts into the air, at how badly he needed your touch. he was quickly relieved of his boxers as you pushed them down, the fabric bunching around the hem of his pushed down pants. the car slowed to a stop, the noise of then turn signal and his ragged breathing almost comedic, almost shameful, but so, so right.

you looked up at him, the way his jaw clenched and his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, trying to play the role of dedicated driver to the cars in the adjacent lanes. an evil grin clawed its way onto your face before you lifted him to your mouth, taking him deeply at once, groaning at the silky, hot skin, the heavy feel of him on your tongue.

"holy fuck-" the car stuttered forward before the brakes were slammed back on, causing his cock to lurch deeper into your mouth, a pathetic whine leaving trevor's lips as he brushed the back of your throat. you just hummed around him, bobbing your head and bracing yourself against the console as the car accelerated slowly into a turn.

a murmured comment of "thank god for tinted windows," or something of that sort, caused you to let a small laugh out of your nose, the muscles in your throat constricting around him. you heard his ragged pants and the sound of his head hitting the headrest as he undoubtedly threw it back.

"baby, i'm gonna lose it, you're killing me." he whined, raising his hips off the seat, the strong muscle of his thigh pushing into your chest.

you simply grinned around his delicious length, pushing your head down till your nose almost met the soft skin at his base before pulling almost all the way off of him, tracing your teeth along the prominent vein on the underside of his cock, featherlight and torturous at the same time.

"shit." trevor heaved a sigh, chest caving in as he fought the urge to let go.

you trailed your nails up the taut muscle of his thigh, fingers splaying to anchor yourself. you felt him harden like steel and twitch in your mouth; you could almost smell the release coming over him like a wave, savoring the way his hips rolled and stuttered and finally bucked up into your mouth as he let go with a whimpered "fuck."

you moaned around him, laving your tongue over his now shuddering cock, taking everything he would give you.

"holy shit. holy shit." he whispered, one hand coming down to your head to gently urge you off him, overstimulation crashing over him suddenly and and unbearably.

you just sat back up and licked your lips, drowning in his taste.

"just wait till we get back to the hotel," you chuckled, crossing your legs and turning the radio on.

[shyamanuensis]

love your work! any chance for some sad sebastian? you write sad ominis with such grace i'd love a little more drama if possible. xoxoxox

I swear someone is listening in on the conversations @eva-fitzgerald and I have because we literally were talking about this earlier today. A lazy oneshot written in the car as we drive home for Christmas. Enjoy xx

“So, what do I tell everyone if you don’t come home one night?” “The truth – that I died doing my job.”

The small black box I held in my hands was standard government issue. A ‘goodbye box’ was what most widows of ministry workers called them, however only being engaged, I wasn’t sure the lingo applied in my situation. What was usually delivered by a high-end ministry official, had been brought by instead by his best friend. Waking up to the sound of knocking at my cottage door a little after 3am, Ominis was the last person I expected to be standing there. His choice of words deliberate – tone cold, yet soft as he spoke. As if hearing what he was saying with a more sympathetic, yet straightforward voice would make things easier. However, irrespective of what he saw, experienced and recollected throughout the current ongoing wizarding war; it was obvious that the requirement of delivering bad news never got easier.

“And you think the kids will understand?” “Sweetheart, I’m doing this for them.”

Stumbling back into the house, I left the door open for Ominis to follow through and took a seat on a sofa; balancing the small black box on the tops of my thighs as hands cradled the lid to lift it and peek inside. I could feel my breathing hitch, my skin begin to burn, hot tears fall into the corners of my eyes. I knew however, I had to stay quiet and not wake the sleeping toddlers in their bedrooms. Feeling Ominis hand on my shoulder; gently rubbing as it travelled along onto my back I sighed softly, knowing this day would have to one day come.

“Sebastian you’re being unreasonable.” “No, you just aren’t being supportive.”

The first thing my eyes flickered over in the box was his auror badge; employee number etched into the back as if that’s all he was. Beside this, the trusty broken teal checkerboard wand handle I knew had failed him. There were a few folded pieces of parchment, notes maybe or letters unsent. Beneath them a photo of the children poking out from behind the cover of a leather-bound journal I’d one day bring myself to read. That was what made the first tears fall. In silence. The photograph of the children.

“You know what, I’m sick of this argument. Just... go.” “Promise you, we’ll talk more about it when I get home.”

Closing the lid; I managed to keep it together only barely as I placed the box on the coffee table and picked nervously at my lips. A quick look at Ominis which held vulnerability, naivety and despair without a single word spoken had him responding that he’d stay until the children woke up; knowing that right now, solitude was not what I needed. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sighed dryly, remembering our last conversation before Sebastian left for work the previous evening. A heated argument: words left unsaid, tensions high as they had been the last few weeks; knowing through whispers, rumours and phone calls what he’d be dealing with and going through.

“…fine.” “I love you.”

I’d never have the chance to turn back time and reply. The image of him leaving home for work one I’d forever have etched into the back of my mind. We’d promised each other we’d never argue before work or before going to bed; but the regret of our last conversation would haunt me now forever. Ominis rubbed my knee gently before whispering that he’d go and check on the kids. And once alone; in the darkness of this house with a fireplace dying out which no longer felt like a home, the cries came crashing down uncontrollably.

[raven-dor]

could you do a fred weasley ii story please? where they both like each other but it's painfully obvious that they do, but both of them won't do anything.

love your writing BTW!!

LOVED THIS REQUEST!! this is getting posted this TUESDAY at 4pm EST, so keep an eye out!!

until then, here's a sneak peak of close to you...

“Fred.” 

A beat of silence. “Everything alright, love?” 

“Can you-” She took a deep breath. “I need your help.” 

“With?” His voice sounded tight. 

“The dress… I can’t-” She huffed, picked up the front of the dress, and walked out of the dressing room. “The lacing...” Fred just stared, and her heart started racing. “Stop looking at me like that.” He stepped forward, his eyes dangerously full of mischief. 

“Turn around.” 

“Excuse me?” She tilted her head. 

“The lacing.” He whispered. “Turn around.” 

“You picked the perfect dress, Freddie.” 

He smiled to himself, tightening the laces once more before tying a bow. “It’s nothing…” She turned around, and he realized how serious this moment had become. “You look like the moon itself.” She laughed, actually laughed. He almost glared, here he was complimenting her, and she laughed at him. “What’s so funny?” 

“I’m sorry, it’s just that you looked so serious when you said it.” 

“Oh really?” He raised an eyebrow, a smile creeping on his face. “Well, remind me to never compliment you again.” 

“No!” She begged. “Please, don’t.” 

“Fine, fine.” Somehow his arm had found its way around her waist, and time seemed to stand still. “You’ve convinced me.” 

“What are we doing?” She whispered. “This-” 

“Y/N.” His eyes were desperate. “I need to kiss you now. Is that- okay?” 

She nodded her eyelids lulling. “Yes.” 

“I- I’m going to-” 

“Fred just kiss me.” Her voice was ruder than she intended it to be, her eyes widening. “I only-” 

“I don’t think we should.” He whispered. “It would only-” 

Tears pricked at her eyes. “Can you undo the laces please?” 

He nodded. “I’m sorry-” 

“Fred, just do it.” Her voice was harsh, and his fingers fumbled with the strings. “And don’t apologize to me. We both wanted to, just…” The dress was loose, barely holding it up as she turned around. She looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone about this.” 

“I-”

“Promise me!”

“I promise.” 

She shoved past him, pulling the curtain shut. “I think you should leave.” 

“Y/N…” 

“Fred, go away.” 

Her tone dripped with venom. He’d never heard her sound that betrayed, more angry, and it made him want to stay even more, to help her and make up for his cowardice. “Love, let me-” 

“Just stop!” She pushed away, shutting the curtain. “I think it’s best if we take a break.” 

“A break?” His voice sounded nervous. Good, she wanted him to squirm like she just had. “From what?” 

“Whatever this is Fred. I’m tired of it.” She walked out of the dressing room, glaring at her best friend. “I have feelings for you and I can’t- I can’t be around you like this. So please just don’t talk to me.” 

She stormed out of the shop, leaving Fred alone with his thoughts. He was empty, he realized. It was stupid: honestly, the most foolish thing he’d ever done, backing out of something he knew he had wanted to do for ages. She was right, he was a coward. How many, he asked himself, could stand in the face of perfection itself and not crumble? He pushed open the curtain, frowning at her dress thrown on the ground. 

“Excuse me?” He stood up, turning around to see an older witch looking at his with evident concern. “Is everything alright?” 

“I’d-” He took a deep breath, folding the dress delicately. “I’d like to buy this dress please.” 

The older witch smiled, leading him to the register. “She’s very lucky.” 

He laughed, shaking his head. “I’m the lucky one.”