#run away that’s all i’d ever done but nows the time for me to stay do it for all of us the faces in the crowd and when they try to shut you

[mediocre-shark-tales]

Qatar GP part 2

Masterlist

Trigger Warning- slow burn of increasing themes including sexism, SA, depression, and implied grooming

I finished the sprint in P5. It wasn’t the worst result, but it wasn’t the best either. The lingering frustration from qualifying earlier gnawed at the edges of my focus all through the session. Now, as I sat in the car preparing for full qualifying, I could feel the pressure mounting again.

Q1 was a disaster from the start. My car felt off, or maybe I did—it was hard to tell at this point. Every lap felt like a battle, not just against the clock, but against myself. I narrowly scraped through, sitting in P15 by the time the checkered flag fell. The frustration bubbled up in my chest as I coasted back into the pits, gripping the wheel tighter than I should’ve.

Landon, my radio engineer, was doing his best to keep me grounded. “Alright, Y/N, nice work staying in it. Let’s reset, okay? Q2 is where we shine.” His voice was steady, calm, like it always was.

I mumbled something in response, unable to muster the enthusiasm to match his energy.

Q2 wasn’t much better. I pushed hard, maybe too hard, running wide in one of the high-speed corners and losing precious tenths of a second. It was enough to keep me from slipping out of the top ten, but barely. My radio crackled with Landon’s voice again. “You’re through to Q3. Good job, Y/N. Let’s make this one count.”

Good job. I didn’t feel like I’d done a good job.

By the time Q3 rolled around, I was running on fumes—not physically, but emotionally. The laps blurred together in my mind, each one a mess of minor mistakes and missed opportunities. When the session ended, I was in P7. Better than I deserved, in my opinion.

As I climbed out of the car, the weight of it all crashed down on me. My chest felt tight, my hands trembling slightly as I pulled off my gloves and helmet. The cheers from the garage were muted to my ears, drowned out by the harsh voice in my head replaying every error I’d made.

“Hey, P7 isn’t bad,” Landon said, his tone light as he approached me in the garage. He handed me a bottle of water, flashing me a reassuring smile. “It’s a solid starting position. We can work with this tomorrow.”

I nodded, barely. My throat felt dry, but I couldn’t bring myself to drink.

“You kept it clean, kept it together,” he continued, trying to lift the mood. “That’s what matters. You’re putting yourself in a good place for the race.”

But all I could see were the things I did wrong. The apexes I missed. The tiny mistakes that added up. The way I was constantly fighting myself out there. I clenched the water bottle tightly in my hand, my gaze fixed on the ground.

“Y/N?” Landon’s voice softened.

I shook my head, the lump in my throat making it hard to speak. “It’s not good enough,” I muttered.

“It’s qualifying,” he said gently. “You don’t win races on Saturdays.”

His words made sense—logically, I knew he was right—but it didn’t stop the storm raging in my head. I felt the tears pricking at the back of my eyes and quickly turned away, retreating into the changing room before anyone else could see.

Once inside, I let out a shaky breath, leaning against the wall. I’d been here before, fighting the same battle with myself, but this time felt different. Heavier. Like I was carrying more than just the pressure of the job. I wiped at my face quickly, refusing to let the tears fall. 

I was just starting to collect myself when Landon knocked gently on the doorframe of the changing room. He looked hesitant, his usual confidence replaced with a flicker of discomfort. “Y/N, there’s something we need to talk about,” he said carefully.

I frowned, straightening up. “What is it?”

Landon hesitated before stepping aside, letting my Lead Engineer Marcus step into view. 

Marcus was the replacement for Henry, following his contract termination. Marcu was a good guy, he made sure to chat with me beforehand that if I ever was uncomfortable with anyone or anything, that he would swiftly handle it. 

His expression was grim, and I immediately felt a sinking feeling in my stomach.

“We had to replace a component in the car earlier today,” my engineer began, his tone cautious. “It was unavoidable—there were signs it might fail, and we couldn’t risk it.”

I nodded slowly, trying to piece together where this was going. “Okay… so what does that mean?”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “It means you have a 10-place grid penalty for tomorrow’s race.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. P17. I was starting the race in P17.

I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out at first. My thoughts raced, spiraling into frustration and anger. They hadn’t told me before qualifying. They’d let me push, let me fight for P7, knowing it would all be for fucking nothing.

“You’re telling me this now?” My voice was sharper than I intended, and I could see both Landon and Marcus flinch slightly.

“It was a last-minute decision,” Marcus explained, his tone soft but firm. “We didn’t want to distract you before qualifying.”

I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “So you thought it would be better to drop this on me after? When I’ve already been beating myself up for not doing better?”

Landon stepped in quickly, trying to diffuse the tension. “Y/N, they were just trying to do what’s best for the car. For you.”

I clenched my fists, the anger boiling just under the surface. I knew Landon was right, but it didn’t make it easier to accept. P17. After all the work I’d put in, after everything I’d fought through, I was starting the race almost at the back.

“I need a minute,” I said abruptly, brushing past them and heading out of the motorhome for a brisk walk. 

Once I was alone, I leaned against the wall nearby, my breathing shallow as I fought to keep the tears at bay. The frustration was overwhelming, not just at the team, but at myself, at the situation, at everything that had been piling up on me lately.

I closed my eyes, forcing myself to focus on my breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Slowly, steadily. I couldn’t let the anger win. I couldn’t let this moment define me.

After a few minutes, I felt calmer. Not great, but calm enough to face what was next.

I returned to the common area, where my PR manager was waiting with a clipboard. “Media duties start in five,” she said, her voice brisk but sympathetic. “Ready?”

I nodded, forcing a small smile. “Yeah. Let’s get it over with.”

I didn’t feel ready. Not even close. But this was part of the job, and no amount of frustration or anger would change that. It was time to put on the mask and face the world, even if I felt like falling apart inside.

The first interview went smoother than I expected, which was a relief. The journalist—a kind-faced man I recognized from previous media sessions—approached the conversation with a balance of professionalism and empathy.

"So, Y/N, it’s been a challenging weekend for you so far,” he began, his tone gentle. “But you’ve shown resilience time and time again this season. How do you keep pushing forward when things don’t go to plan?”

I smiled softly, still feeling the sting of the grid penalty but appreciating the way he framed his question. “It’s not always easy,” I admitted. “There are moments when the frustration feels overwhelming, but I try to focus on what’s ahead instead of what’s behind me. My team works incredibly hard to give me a competitive car, and I want to do right by them and by myself.”

He nodded, his expression warm. “It’s great to see you overcome the challenges. I think a lot of people admire your determination, especially considering the unique pressures you face.”

The interview ended on a positive note, and I found myself feeling lighter as I thanked him and headed to my next media stop. Maybe the day wouldn’t be so bad after all.

That hope was short-lived.

As soon as I saw the next journalist waiting for me, my stomach sank. It was him. The same smug, arrogant man who had belittled me during my first few races of the season.

I took a deep breath, straightening my posture and putting on the same neutral expression I always wore for interviews. I had dealt with him before, and I could do it again.

“Y/N,” he began, his tone sharp and dripping with condescension. “It’s been quite the year for you, hasn’t it? Full of drama, on and off the track.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “It’s certainly been a year of growth and learning,” I replied evenly.

He didn’t let up. “Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? The story of your… supposed incident a few weeks back has been the talk of the paddock. Some might even say it was a convenient distraction from your less-than-stellar performances.”

I froze for a split second before regaining my composure. His words felt like a slap, but I refused to let him see me falter.

“With all due respect,” I said, keeping my voice steady, “what happened to me was not a ‘convenient distraction.’ It was a traumatic experience, and I have done my best to move forward while remaining professional. My results on track have nothing to do with that.”

He smirked, as if he’d caught me in a lie. “And yet, your performance this weekend hasn’t exactly silenced your critics. P17? That’s a far cry from the podiums we’ve seen earlier this season. Do you think the pressure is getting to you?”

My jaw tightened, but I refused to take the bait. “Racing is unpredictable, and every driver has their highs and lows. I’m focused on learning from this weekend and coming back stronger for the race tomorrow.”

“And do you think your so-called struggles with the team are contributing to this slump?” he pressed, leaning forward as if he were interrogating me.

I met his gaze, unflinching. “My team and I are aligned on our goals for the rest of the season. Every decision they make is in the best interest of performance and safety, and I trust them completely.”

The interview continued in this vein, his questions growing more invasive and his tone more cutting. But I held my ground, sticking to my truth and refusing to let him twist my words.

As I settled into my final interview of the day, I could feel the weight of everything pressing down on me—my frustration from qualifying, the media circus surrounding me, the endless questions. But the interviewer, a young woman with kind eyes and an encouraging smile, immediately made me feel at ease.

She started with the usual questions, her tone warm and genuine. She asked about how I was handling the weekend, what my approach was to the race tomorrow, and how I was navigating the challenges I’d faced this season. It was refreshing—she wasn’t digging for sensationalism or trying to pick apart my struggles. She seemed to genuinely care about my answers, and that alone helped me relax.

As the interview went on, I noticed her attention shift slightly. She glanced over my shoulder toward a nearby group of drivers in their own interviews, and the corners of her lips quirked up in a knowing smile.

“I can’t help but notice something,” she said, her voice soft yet curious, as though she were letting me in on a secret.

I tilted my head, unsure of what she meant. “What’s that?”

She gestured subtly toward the drivers. “Over there. You hear that?”

I frowned slightly, straining to listen. At first, it was just snippets of conversation, but as I focused, their voices became clearer.

“She’s a fighter. No one else on this grid would’ve handled it the way she has.”

“She deserves her seat next season. Honestly, she should’ve had a multi-year contract already.”

“One day, she’s going to be unstoppable. She could be the next Schumacher if she keeps this up.”

The words hit me like a tidal wave. My chest tightened, and for a moment, I didn’t know how to process it. These were drivers I barely spoke to—some I’d only exchanged polite greetings with, others I hadn’t interacted with much at all. Yet here they were, standing together, openly praising me, defending me, and speaking so highly of me that it almost felt unreal.

The interviewer leaned forward slightly, her tone gentle and understanding. “How does it feel,” she asked, “to hear your fellow drivers talk about you like that? To know that they see your strength, your determination, and your potential?”

I sat there for a moment, my throat tightening as I tried to hold back the wave of emotion threatening to crash over me. The words played over and over in my mind, filling the silence.

“It’s... it’s overwhelming,” I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper. I glanced down at my hands, fiddling with the bracelet on my wrist as I tried to gather my thoughts. “In the best way possible.”

I paused, exhaling a shaky breath before continuing. “I’ve always felt like I had to prove myself—to the team, to the media, to the fans, even to the grid. There’s always been this pressure to show that I belong here, that I’ve earned my place, and that I’m more than capable of holding my own. Hearing them say those things... it’s something I never expected.”

I looked back at the interviewer, her expression warm and encouraging. “These are drivers I’ve looked up to for so long,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “To know they see me not just as a competitor, but as someone who’s strong enough to overcome everything... It means more than I can put into words. It reminds me that even when things feel impossible, there are people who believe in me.”

The interviewer nodded, her smile unwavering. “You’ve been through so much, and you’ve shown incredible resilience. It’s clear they see that in you—not just your talent, but your strength and determination.”

I nodded slowly, feeling a lump rise in my throat. “It’s hard to explain, but hearing them say those things... it makes me feel less alone. Like maybe I don’t have to carry all of this by myself. I’ve got this grid family who believes in me, who’s got my back even when I doubt myself.”

She smiled warmly. “It’s obvious they care about you. And you’ve earned that respect, both on and off the track.”

The interview wrapped up with her thanking me for my honesty and wishing me luck for the race. As I stood up to leave, I couldn’t help but glance back at the group of drivers. They were laughing now, the tension of the day easing as they joked around, but their words still echoed in my mind.

I felt lighter as I walked away, though the emotions still churned beneath the surface. The weight I’d been carrying wasn’t gone—it probably wouldn’t be for a while—but for the first time in what felt like forever, it didn’t feel quite so heavy. For the first time, I realized I wasn’t carrying it alone, I finally let myself depend on others. Allowing my grid family to help lift the burden weighing me down. 

The morning of race day, the paddock felt alive with electricity, and for the first time in weeks, I felt like I was part of that current rather than drowning beneath it. There was no hesitation, no looking over my shoulder. I walked with purpose, headphones snug over my ears, blasting music so loud it drowned out the world around me. It was just me and the race ahead.

I didn’t care about the whispers, the cameras, or the stories people had been spinning. None of it mattered anymore. Today wasn’t about proving myself to anyone but me. I was done letting my past, my trauma, and the cruelty of others define how I carried myself. Henry hadn’t taken my courage, my talent, or my determination. Those things were mine, and no one could strip them away from me.

I wore an outfit that felt like armor—sleek, powerful, and unapologetically bold. The kind of outfit that said, “I’m here to fight.” My shoulders were squared, my chin held high. Every step I took felt deliberate, like a declaration to the universe: I’m still here. And I’m not going anywhere.

As I entered the paddock, I could feel the eyes on me. Other drivers, engineers, journalists—they all seemed to pause as I passed, noticing the shift in my demeanor. The hesitance, the weariness I’d been carrying, was gone. In its place was a fire that burned bright and hot, fueled by every doubt, every insult, every setback I’d endured.

By the time I reached the Aston Martin motorhome, I’d caught snippets of conversations behind me. Words like “unstoppable,” “fearless,” and “focused” drifted through the air, but I tuned them out. My headphones drowned out the noise, the beat of my music syncing with the pulse of my determination.

It wasn’t until later, during my warm-up routine in the garage, that I finally noticed my phone buzzing repeatedly on the counter. Curious, I picked it up and saw dozens of notifications from my social media accounts. I frowned, scrolling through the mentions until one caught my eye—a post from the official Formula 1 account.

The video stopped me in my tracks. It was a clip of me walking into the paddock that morning, shot in slow motion. The camera panned up from my boots to my determined stride, capturing every detail of my confident posture and piercing gaze. Over the footage, Taylor Swift’s Look what you made me do blared, the beat setting a tone of defiance and power.

The caption read:

“🔥 Is [Y/N] in her Reputation Era? Her walk says it all. Today’s race just might be one to watch. 👀 #F1 #ReputationEra #Comeback”

I couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at my lips. Seeing myself through someone else’s lens, framed like this—as someone strong, fierce, and unapologetically bold—was surreal. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like a victim. I felt like a warrior, ready to take on the world.

The garage around me seemed to fade as I watched the video again. This time, I wasn’t focused on how I looked or how others perceived me. I was focused on how I felt watching it. The person in that video was everything I’d fought so hard to be: resilient, determined, and fearless.

Sliding my phone back into my bag pocket, I grabbed my helmet and turned toward the car. The time for doubting myself was over. Today, I wasn’t racing for my team, my fans, or anyone else. I was racing for me—to prove to myself that no one could take away my strength, my talent, or my love for the sport.

As I climbed into the car, I could still feel the beat of the music pounding in my chest, the lyrics of the song echoing in my mind: The world moves on another day another drama, drama. But not for me, not for me, all I think about is karma. Yeah, today was going to be my race.

The world seemed to blur into the background as I sat on the grid, the hum of engines vibrating through the air. My fingers tightened around the steering wheel, my gloves creaking under the pressure. My breathing was steady, but inside, my chest felt like it was about to explode. The lights above us blinked on, one by one.

Focus.

I exhaled slowly, my eyes locked on the lights. This was it. All the pain, the doubts, and the whispered voices questioning my worth—it all led to this moment. The roar of the crowd faded. All I could hear was my own heartbeat and the low rumble of the engine beneath me.

The lights went out.

I slammed the throttle, the car jerking forward as the tires clawed at the asphalt. The chaos of the start unfolded around me—cars darting left and right, fighting for position. My instincts took over, my body moving before my mind could catch up. I saw a gap on the inside of Turn 1 and went for it, diving deep into the corner.

The tires screeched as I braked late, my car surging ahead of three others in a daring move. P14. My heart raced, but I didn’t have time to celebrate. Ahead of me, cars jostled for position, a blur of color and speed.

Lap by lap, I clawed my way forward. Each overtake was a battle, a test of precision and courage. I out-braked one driver into Turn 7, slipping past them as they locked up. Another I overtook on the straight, my DRS open, the car screaming as I surged ahead.

P12.

The laps ticked down, each one feeling like a war in itself. I fought through the midfield chaos, my car dancing on the edge of control as I defended against those behind me and attacked those ahead.

P10.

The points were in sight, but it wasn’t enough. I refused to settle. I pushed harder, braking later, accelerating earlier, taking lines so tight they felt like they’d snap me in half.

By the halfway point, I was in P8, battling wheel-to-wheel with Alonso. The veteran defended fiercely, his experience evident in every move he made. But I was relentless. I feinted to the outside before diving to the inside at the last second, forcing him to yield.

P7.

With ten laps to go, I found myself in P6, my breath coming in shallow gasps, sweat dripping down my temples. I could hear the voices creeping into my mind—Henry’s voice, cruel and mocking.

"You’re not good enough. You’ll never make it. You don’t belong here."

The words clawed at me, threatening to unravel the focus I’d worked so hard to build. But instead of breaking, I channeled the anger into my driving.

“Shut up,” I muttered under my breath, gripping the wheel tighter. “You don’t get to win.”

With newfound determination, I pressed on. I overtook Gasly into Turn 4, squeezing him to the outside and claiming P5. Russell was next. The Mercedes loomed ahead, its bright red tail lights taunting me as I closed the gap.

Two laps later, I made my move, diving down the inside into Turn 11. Russell fought back, the two of us going side by side through the next corner. My tires screamed in protest, but I held my ground, eventually forcing him to back off.

P4.

With three laps to go, I was chasing down Piastri. My arms ached, my legs felt like lead, but I refused to give in. The whispers in my mind grew louder, but so did the fire in my chest.

“C’mon, c’mon,” I whispered, urging the car forward.

On the penultimate lap, I finally caught him, using DRS to slingshot past on the straight. The car wobbled slightly as I braked hard into Turn 1, but I held it together, my focus unshakable.

P3.

The final lap was a blur of speed and adrenaline. Verstappen was too far ahead to catch, but Leclerc was within reach. The Ferrari was fast, but so was I. I threw caution to the wind, pushing harder than I ever had before.

Coming out of the final corner, I saw my chance. I got the better exit, my car surging forward as I tucked into his slipstream. The finish line was approaching fast.

I darted to the inside, my car pulling alongside his. For a brief moment, we were neck and neck, the roar of the crowd deafening. Then, inch by inch, I pulled ahead.

The checkered flag waved.

P2.

I crossed the line, my breath catching in my throat as Landon’s voice screamed through the radio.

“OH MY GOD! THAT WAS A MASTERCLASS! ABSOLUTE PERFECTION OUT THERE!”

I could barely process his words, my hands shaking as I gripped the wheel. Then I took a deep breath and leaned into the mic.

“Guess I’m living up to my Reputation Era,” I said, a small smirk forming on my lips.

The team erupted in cheers, their excitement pouring through the radio. And for the first time in what felt like forever, I smiled. Not because of anyone else, but because I had proven to myself that I was stronger than everything that tried to break me.

The engine hummed as I pulled into parc fermé, the P2 placard coming into view. Charles and Max were already out of their cars, their helmets off, chatting as they waited for me. The cheers from the crowd grew louder as I rolled in, a sea of orange, red, and a surprising amount of my team’s colors waving in unison.

I killed the engine and sat there for a moment, letting the weight of what I had just done sink in. P2. After everything, P2. My breath hitched, and I forced it back down. There would be time to cry later, but right now, this moment was for me—and for the fans who had never stopped believing in me.

I pulled myself out of the car, climbing onto the halo. The cheers rose to a deafening roar as I straightened up, standing tall, my arms stretched wide in a pose that screamed defiance and triumph before transitioning into a graceful bow. One could compare it to a bow from some characters in The Greatest Showman. The grandstands exploded, fans waving flags and screaming my name.

For a moment, I let myself bask in it—the noise, the energy, the vindication. This was more than a podium; it was proof that I hadn’t just survived, I had thrived. I pumped my fist in the air, and the crowd erupted even louder, their cheers filling my chest with warmth.

When I climbed down, Max and Charles were already waiting for me as I pulled my helmet off first. Max, grinning in his usual confident way, reached out first, pulling me into a brief but firm hug.

“You did it,” he said, his voice filled with pride. “That was incredible. You’ve come so far.”

Charles stepped in next, his face soft with admiration as he placed his hands on my shoulders. “You proved everyone wrong today. No one can take this away from you.”

Their words hit harder than I expected, a lump forming in my throat. I swallowed it down, looking between them with a small, shaky smile. “I wouldn’t have made it here without you guys,” I admitted, my voice barely audible over the crowd.

Max shook his head, a rare seriousness in his eyes. “No, you did this. We were just here to remind you of what you already had.”

Charles nodded in agreement. “You’re stronger than you think. Henry didn’t strip anything from you. He just tried to bury it—but you dug yourself out.”

The lump in my throat grew, but instead of tears, I let out a soft laugh. “You guys really know how to make a girl cry, huh?”

Max smirked. “Save the tears for the podium. You’ve earned them.”

I nodded, my chest swelling with gratitude and pride as I looked at them. They weren’t just competitors—they were my family. And together, we had risen above the darkness to reach this moment.

As we walked toward the weighing station, the roar of the crowd followed us, and for the first time in a long time, I felt completely whole.

[calirph]

𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄/ 𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 & 𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒. all these sentences quotes are the key words of gothic horror romance, dark romances and enemies to lovers. it also includes scenarios that fit the thematic. please change names, locations and pronouns as you see fit.

Dark Romance & Gothic Horror Romance

“I dream of you in crimson and shadows, and I wake up gasping for air.”

“You should have run when you had the chance.”

“Kiss me now, or I’ll tear your world apart.”

“You haunt me, and I can’t tell if I love it or if it’s killing me.”

“There is no light where I come from. Only you.”

“I warned you, my love, that once you are mine, you can never leave.”

“You smell of death and roses.”

“A monster can love too, but never gently.”

“I feel your presence in every shadow, every whisper of the wind.”

“I would burn the world to keep you safe, but would you still want me after the flames die down?”

“Don’t fear the dark, darling. Fear what’s waiting in it.”

“You are the only thing that keeps me tethered to this cursed existence.”

“My love for you is a graveyard of broken oaths and bleeding hearts.”

“Your touch feels like a ghost against my skin.”

“Even if it damns me, I would choose you over salvation.”

“Do not mistake my devotion for kindness.”

“I carved your name into my soul long before you knew mine.”

“Your love will be the death of me. And I will die smiling.”

“Why do you keep coming back to me?” — “Because you call to me like a song of the damned.”

“We are bound by something older than time, darker than sin.”

“If I kissed you now, would you run, or would you stay and let me ruin you?”

“Let me show you what it means to be truly loved—terrifying, all-consuming, and eternal.”

“You think you know what I am? Then tell me… do I scare you?”

“I should let you go, but your suffering is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“If I must be a monster, then let me be yours.”

“You have no idea what it means to be loved by something unnatural.”

“There is no happily ever after for us. Only a beautiful, tragic ending.”

“Love me or fear me. Either way, you are mine.”

“You are poison and honey, and I would drink you down without hesitation.”

“Would you still love me if you knew what I’ve done?”

Enemies to Lovers

“You are insufferable.” — “And yet, here you are.”

“The worst thing is, I think I hate you because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Every time I look at you, I want to fight you… or kiss you. I’m not sure which.”

“You say you despise me, but your eyes tell a different story.”

“I could kill you right now.” — “Then why don’t you?”

“If you touch me again, I won’t be held responsible for what happens next.”

“I don’t know if I want to strangle you or pull you closer.”

“I promised myself I would never love you, and yet here I am.”

“Do you think of me when you lie awake at night?”

“You don’t have to like me. You just have to want me.”

“You don’t trust me.” — “Should I?” — “No.”

“You are my ruin, and I am yours.”

“I’d rather die than fall for you.” — “Funny, I was about to say the same.”*

“Tell me to stop, and I will. But we both know you won’t.”

“I hate you.” — “You keep saying that. Say it again, but this time, try to mean it.”

“You broke my heart first.”

“I should kill you for what you did.” — “Then do it. But if you hesitate, I’ll know you feel the same.”

“We are on opposite sides of this war, but my heart is on yours.”

“You are my enemy. You have no right to make my heart race.”

“I’d rather love you in secret than hate you in public.”

“If we weren’t enemies, could you have loved me?”

“You tried to kill me, and now you want to kiss me?”

“I will always fight against you, but I will never stop loving you.”

“We are fire and fire, bound to burn each other to ash.”

“You’re a monster.” — “And yet, you can’t stay away.”

“Do you know what it’s like to want something you should never have?”

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” — “Then stop me.”

“I hate that I love you.”

“The only reason I saved you was so I could kill you myself.”

“One of us will betray the other. We both know it. So why are we still here?”

Scenarios

A vampire falls for the very hunter sworn to destroy them.

A ghost lingers in a decaying mansion, drawn to the living intruder who dares to stay.

An assassin is sent to kill a powerful enemy but instead finds themselves unable to pull the trigger.

Two opposing generals meet in secret, their battlefield hatred clashing with their undeniable attraction.

A noble is cursed to love only the one who will be their downfall.

A human discovers their lover isn’t entirely human—and never was.

A prisoner and their captor grow dangerously close.

A warrior is haunted by a mysterious figure in their dreams, only to meet them in waking life.

A dark sorcerer offers an innocent soul a terrible bargain in exchange for love.

A beauty is trapped in a monster’s lair, and the monster is not as cruel as the world believes.

A rival thief and bounty hunter must work together to survive.

A masked stranger saves a doomed soul, but at a terrible cost.

Two heirs of warring kingdoms are forced into a deadly arranged marriage.

A widow finds solace in the arms of the man responsible for her husband’s death.

An executioner spares the life of their enemy for reasons they can’t explain.

A demon falls in love with the exorcist who was meant to destroy them.

A scientist falls for their own cursed creation.

A detective and a serial killer play a dangerous game of obsession.

A fallen angel and a mortal become entangled in forbidden love.

A werewolf fights against their instinct to claim their enemy as their mate.

A forbidden romance unfolds in a haunted asylum.

A fae bargains for love but is tricked into servitude.

An aristocrat falls for the masked vigilante fighting against their family.

A witch saves a wounded knight, only for him to realize she is the enemy.

A pirate and a naval officer share an undeniable connection despite their allegiances.

A woman is drawn to the reclusive lord rumored to be a monster.

A scholar studies forbidden texts and attracts the attention of something otherworldly.

A cursed artist paints their love into existence.

Two enemies must survive the night trapped in a cursed castle.

A creature of the night watches over their oblivious beloved.

[trevination]

i think we all got over the ending of little brother wayyyyy too fast

[aakeysmash]

bakugou taking care of you when you're on your period but not in a "omg my cramps hurt so bad" way but in a "i am literally gonna throw up" way

thought i’d change it up and make him the one who gags lol. thank you for this ask bb, even if it is indeed from MONTHS ago……..

he enters the bathroom and gags. you’re changing your pad with the door open, because it’s nothing he didn’t already see a million times.

“hello to you too, boyfriend,” you huff annoyed. your cramps have been killing you all night, and seeing a man (even if it is the boyfriend you have been living with the past three years) makes you feel an indescribable rage. these are the only moments you truly wish you had a dick instead of an uterus.

he clears his throat, but his scowl stays. he knows you tend to be a little bit more moody the first few days of your period, but the sight of your blood outside of your body makes him feel nauseous.

“hi. i’m gonna go. catch ya later,” he rushes out before bolting out of the door towards your kitchen. you sigh, shaking your head. you think by now he’d understand you’re not being brutally killed even if he sees a little red on you, but the pro hero in him doesn’t want to acknowledge this.

you get back to the living room and cover yourself with your soft blanket, trying to sleep a little. it’s your day off from the office, so it’s not like you’re missing anything: being your boyfriend’s assistant has its perks. you feel a warm hand softly caressing your forehead, which is the only thing peeking out from the giant blanket.

“tea?” katsuki asks. you know this is his way of caring. you hum.

“hurts?” he asks again, and you hum for the second time.

you hear him walking away and pouring the hot water he already prepared in advance in case you wanted to drink something warm. you hear the gentle pit-pat of his slippers coming back to the sofa, and you sit up to reach for the cup in his hand.

“i want to curl up in a ball and die,” you mutter before taking a sip.

“you always say this,” he responds, sitting down next to you.

“and i mean it,” you sassily say, looking at him with your brows furrowed. he kisses your forehead, smirking.

“no you don’t,” he chuckles. you playfully shove him.

“i’m sorry for staining the sheets. i promise i’ll wash them once the ibuprofen kicks in,” you sheepishly say, laying your head on his shoulder.

you feel the shiver that runs up his spine. “no use. sleep, i’ll make lunch. i asked eijirou to cover for me today,” he answers before kissing your forehead again and getting up.

“you know i love you, right?” you sigh, laying down and managing to fall asleep in 30 seconds.

you wake up because you feel a big thud in the bathroom. you groggily walk toward it and you find katsuki kneeling down in front of your bathtub. he's the palest you've ever seen him be.

"are you okay?" you ask him, worried he might have hurt himself, maybe by slipping on one of the many puddles of water across the floor.

"i'm fine, fuck. it's just a little blood, why am i acting like such a pussy," he snaps. you're confused, before realizing he's holding onto the sheets from last night. a laugh bubbles inside you and you try to force it down, but he notices it and scowls.

"i did this for you and you're laughing at me?" he looks down at the slightly bloody water in front of him and sits down on the wet floor. "i feel like i might pass the fuck out, no joke," he grunts, closing his eyes and taking big breaths.

you burst out laughing. "i could've done this, you know?" you say between chuckles, kneeling down to take over. he grunts again, muttering something alongside "i wanted to do something nice for you."

the day after you finish your period, you're sitting next to each other on your bed.

"so you find me disgusting, huh?" you tease him, still remembering how he had to lay down for 30 minutes to regain color in his face.

he rolls his eyes, flicking your forehead. "looking at your blood is one of the few things that makes me want to gauge my eyes out. apart from tasting that stupid egg mix my mom gave us the other day," he barks out. you laugh.

"y'know, there's a way to end this," he says in your ear.

you look up with a questioning gaze.

"isn't it time to have a baby?"

[swappermanent]

Laying the Foundation

Owning a general contracting firm isn’t the most exciting job in the world, but it does have its perks. And by perks, I mostly mean the eye candy. Whether it’s a sweaty crew under the summer sun or a client’s husband who catches my attention during a site visit, there’s enough visual appeal to keep my day interesting.

I’m glad I can admit that now. For the first 40-something years of my life, I refused to acknowledge the part of me that liked men. It wasn’t just denial—it was an ironclad, church-fed certainty that I was the straightest man alive. I had the life to prove it too: a wife, two great kids, and a job that kept me too busy to dwell on feelings I wasn’t ready to confront.

But five years ago, I couldn’t lie anymore—at least not to myself or my wife. The realization hit me like a freight train one afternoon as I was scrolling aimlessly through my phone, and it scared the hell out of me. I’ll spare you the gory details of how I came out to her; it was messy, emotional, and one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But if you knew her, you wouldn’t be surprised to hear how kind she was about it.

We got divorced. Not because she hated me—far from it—but because she deserved better. Someone who could love her fully, the way she’d loved me. She was understanding, even supportive, but understandably, she wanted a fresh start. She moved a few states away, which meant our boys, Elias and Remy, followed. They were in college by then, so it wasn’t like they needed me every day, but still—it stung not to see them as often.

Now, I only saw them on the breaks they got from school. Holidays, mostly. Elias was 22 and just starting to figure out his life, and Remy, at 19, was busy living his best college experience. They were good kids, and they didn’t resent me for coming out. At least, I didn’t think they did. But I could tell there were things they didn’t say, questions they didn’t ask. I tried not to push.

In the years since my divorce, I hadn’t exactly been a Casanova. You’d think that, as a newly single gay man, I’d dive headfirst into the wild world of dating apps and endless hookups. But it hadn’t played out that way. I didn’t know where to start, honestly. Bars felt too young for me, apps were overwhelming, and after decades of repressing this part of myself, I felt like I didn’t even know the rules.

And so, I stayed busy. Running my business. Keeping in touch with the boys. Pretending I wasn’t lonely. Pretending I wasn’t deeply, madly crushing on Tomas.

Tomas was one of my best guys—a foreman who had worked for me for almost six years. Early thirties, 6’1”, with the kind of lean, sculpted build that made work boots and a tool belt look like runway fashion. Tomas had short-cropped black hair, caramel skin that seemed to glow in the sun, and a confident swagger that made my heart skip a beat every time he walked past me.

He was also, without a doubt, the hottest man I’d ever laid eyes on. I wasn’t sure if it was his deep, musical laugh, the way his smile seemed to light up an entire room, or the sharp intelligence he brought to every project. Whatever it was, I was hooked. Hooked in a way that made my chest ache and my thoughts stray where they shouldn’t.

I knew I shouldn’t be thinking about him like that. I was his boss, for starters. And besides, for all I knew, he was straight and happily taken. But every time I saw him in the field, bending over to check a level or cracking a joke with the guys, I couldn’t help but fantasize. About what it would be like to pull him close, to feel his strength, to hear him say my name in a way that wasn’t professional.

I tried to keep my distance. Tried to focus on the work, on the business, on anything but the growing knot of desire that had taken up permanent residence in my chest. But Tomas was always there. Always just a few feet away, making me laugh, making me blush, making me feel things I hadn’t let myself feel in years.

I didn’t know what to do about it. Hell, I didn’t even know if there was anything to do about it. But one thing was for sure: I couldn’t take my mind off him.

---

The worst part about my unrequited crush on Tomas was the fact that I knew he was gay. I hadn’t guessed or pieced it together from subtle clues—no, I knew. I’d stumbled across his Grindr profile late one night while I was lying in bed, half-torturing myself by scrolling through profiles I had no intention of messaging.

Seeing his photo there had been like a punch to the gut. He looked incredible, of course—shirtless, smoldering, his chest lightly dusted with hair. I had stared at the profile for longer than I should have, memorizing the details: 33 years old, "masc4masc," and then the words that dashed any wild hopes I might have been clinging to: Please no guys over 30.

I closed the app immediately, my face burning with embarrassment even though no one else was there to see it. For days afterward, I kept replaying those words in my head. No guys over 30. Meanwhile, I was 50. Twenty years his senior, his boss, and, apparently, the exact opposite of what he was looking for.

After that, I resigned myself to suffering in silence. I’d accepted that my feelings for Tomas weren’t going anywhere and that I’d just have to live with it. It wasn’t like I could quit my job or fire him—he was too damn good at what he did, and I needed him on my team. So I kept my head down and my feelings buried, figuring that was the best I could do.

That is, until Miguel came along.

Miguel was the newest addition to the team, just 21 years old and fresh out of trade school. He was the youngest guy I’d ever hired, but he came with glowing recommendations, and within a week of working with him, it was clear they hadn’t been exaggerated. Miguel was a dynamo—hardworking, quick to learn, and always eager to take on more responsibility. He had an upbeat attitude that set him apart from the rest of the crew, and he never let the tougher, more grizzled guys intimidate him.

But while Miguel’s work ethic was impeccable, his looks were something else entirely. The kid was gorgeous. A fuckboy face if I’d ever seen one, with sharp cheekbones, thick lashes, a sexy dusting of a beard, and a jawline that could cut glass. His hair was a messy mop of jet-black curls, and his dark brown eyes sparkled with the kind of mischief that could make you question all your good decisions.

Even at his young age, Miguel had this natural charisma that drew people to him like moths to a flame. He wasn’t trying to be sexy—he just was. Whether it was the way he laughed or the easy confidence in his stride, you could tell he had everyone swooning at his feet. And that included Tomas.

I wasn’t blind. I saw the way Tomas’s eyes lingered on Miguel during lunch breaks or how he found excuses to talk to him on the job. At first, I thought it might just be professional—Tomas mentoring the new guy, making sure he felt welcome. But it didn’t take long to realize there was more to it than that. Tomas was interested in Miguel. You could see it in the way he stood just a little too close or laughed a little too hard at Miguel’s jokes.

The funny thing was, Miguel didn’t seem to notice his effect on everyone else. Despite his looks and charm, he had this air of innocence about him, like he didn’t quite realize the power he had. He worked hard, showed up early, and went home late, never sticking around for beers or banter with the guys. It was almost like he didn’t want to be seen as just a pretty face.

Watching the dynamic between Tomas and Miguel unfold was like a slow kind of torture. On the one hand, I wanted Tomas to be happy, even if it wasn’t with me. On the other hand, the idea of him falling for someone so much younger, so effortlessly magnetic, made my stomach churn with jealousy. Not toward Miguel, exactly—he hadn’t done anything wrong—but at the reminder of what I couldn’t have.

---

A few months into Miguel working with us, I reached my breaking point. Watching Tomas flirt with him day after day, while Miguel remained blissfully unaware, was driving me insane. Tomas’s lingering glances, the playful shoulder taps, the overly friendly banter—it was everything I’d fantasized about, happening right in front of me, but directed at someone else. Someone younger. Someone who didn’t even notice.

Damn it. Why couldn’t that be me?

I had to do something. Anything. The jealousy was eating me alive, and the hopelessness of my situation was unbearable. So, in a moment of desperation, I decided to use something unconventional. Something I’d never planned to use at all.

A few years ago, I’d taken a trip to South America—a solo getaway to clear my head after the divorce. While exploring a small town nestled in the Andes, I’d stumbled upon an old shop filled with trinkets, charms, and artifacts that seemed plucked from legend. One item caught my eye: a smooth, jet-black stone about the size of a silver dollar, etched with intricate carvings that seemed to shift when you looked at them too long. The shopkeeper had insisted it was a swapping stone, a relic capable of exchanging bodies between two willing participants.

At the time, I’d bought it as a novelty. A conversation piece. But now, staring at it on my nightstand, an idea took root in my mind—an idea so reckless and audacious that I couldn’t believe I was considering it.

The next morning, I pulled Miguel aside during a coffee break. He looked surprised but didn’t question it, following me into my office.

“What’s up, boss?” he asked, plopping down into the chair opposite me with his usual relaxed energy.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. “Miguel, I’ve been watching you these past few months, and I’ve got to say—you’ve been doing a hell of a job. The crew loves you, and you’ve been busting your ass out there.”

He shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with the praise. “Thanks, but I’m just doing my part.”

I nodded, then leaned forward, clasping my hands on the desk. “Look, I know how hard this kind of work is. It’s physically demanding, and you’ve been carrying a lot of weight for someone so young. So I wanted to offer you something.”

His eyebrows raised. “Offer me what?”

I pulled the stone out of my desk drawer and set it between us. “A swap.”

Miguel tilted his head, his confusion evident. “A swap?”

“Yes. A swap. With me.” I gestured toward the stone. “This… is a bit of a long story, but let’s just say it’s not an ordinary rock. It has the power to let us trade places—temporarily, of course. I’d take your body, and you’d take mine.”

Miguel stared at me, silent for a long moment, before letting out a disbelieving laugh. “Boss, are you feeling okay?”

“I’m serious.” I pushed the stone closer to him. “Think about it. You’re out there every day breaking your back, while I’m in here taking calls and pushing paperwork. If we swap, you’d get to enjoy the perks of being the boss—shorter hours, no manual labor. You could take my car, my house, my money. Do whatever you want for a while.”

His ears perked up at that. “Whatever I want?”

I chuckled. “Whatever you want. Look, I may be in my fifties, but I’m still in good shape, and I’ve got the resources to make it worth your while. You could have some fun. Live it up.”

Miguel leaned back in his chair, studying me. “Okay, but what’s in it for you? Why would you want to swap with me?”

I hesitated, trying to come up with something that didn’t make me sound like a crazy old man. “Honestly? I’ve been in this business a long time, and I want to understand it better. Really get a feel for what it’s like to be on the ground again.”

Miguel raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical.

“And…” I added, with a sheepish grin, “maybe I want to relive my youth a bit. See what it’s like to be in my twenties again. Humor an old man, will you?”

That got him. He burst out laughing, shaking his head. “Man, you’re something else.”

“So, what do you say?” I asked, my heart pounding.

Miguel studied the stone, his lips pressed into a thoughtful line. Then he looked back at me, a mischievous glint in his eye. “If you’re serious, boss, then yeah. Why not? Let’s do it.”

Little did he know, my motivations had nothing to do with reliving my youth or gaining a new perspective. My eyes were set firmly on Tomas,

We both stood in my office, the stone resting between us on the desk. Miguel seemed skeptical but game, his trademark grin lighting up his face. I couldn’t help but marvel at his confidence—effortless, natural, the kind that came with being young and having the world at your feet.

“So, what’s the magic phrase, boss?” he asked, clearly humoring me.

“It’s in Spanish,” I said, picking up the stone and holding it out to him. “I did get it in Chile, after all. We both have to hold it and say, ‘Quiero cambiar.’ It means, ‘I want to swap.’ Simple enough, right?”

Miguel gave me a look that was equal parts curiosity and amusement, then shrugged. “Alright, boss. Let’s see this thing work.”

He wrapped his calloused hand around one side of the stone, and I gripped the other. For a moment, I hesitated, wondering if this was really the right thing to do. But then I glanced at him, at the youthful energy in his face and the opportunity shimmering in his eyes, and I knew there was no turning back.

We spoke the words together: “Quiero cambiar.”

The moment the last syllable left my lips, I felt it. A strange warmth radiated from the stone, seeping into my palm and spreading up my arm like a current. My back arched involuntarily, and a sensation like liquid sunlight flooded my chest, pulling me out of myself. It wasn’t painful, but it was overwhelming—intense, euphoric, like every nerve in my body was alight.

Across from me, Miguel was going through the same thing. His head tilted back, his body trembling as the same warm glow overtook him. I could hear his sharp intake of breath, followed by a low, guttural moan. We both stumbled a step back, clutching at the air, though there wasn’t anything visible leaving our bodies—just the overwhelming sense of movement.

And then it stopped. Like flipping a switch, the warmth vanished, leaving me standing there, panting, in Miguel’s body.

The first thing I noticed was how much lighter I felt. My limbs moved easily, like I could leap ten feet in the air if I tried. My skin was smooth, my shoulders lean but sturdy. I raised a hand to my cheek, running my fingers along the softer, smoother surface, and then down to my abs—firm and defined, cobblestones under my touch. It was like my body had been built in a dream.

Miguel, now in my body, flexed one of my arms experimentally. “Damn, boss,” he said with a laugh, staring at my bicep, which was massive and veined from years of heavy lifting. “I don’t know if my body’s really any better than yours.”

He turned to the small mirror on the wall, lifting my shirt and giving my old body’s abs a quick once-over. “You’ve been holding out on me, man! If I looked like this at 50, I’d be showing it off all the time.”

I let out a nervous laugh, still getting used to the sound of Miguel’s voice coming out of my mouth. “Yeah, I’m not so sure about that,” I said, my fingers grazing over my new, perfectly sculpted abs. “This feels like a serious upgrade.”

Miguel smirked, striking a mock pose and letting out a low whistle. “You’re not wrong. Your body’s hot as hell now. Don’t break too many hearts, alright?”

I grinned, I had quite the opposite in mind.

[littlelamy]

Request hehe: Maybe Reader has some trust issues due to past cheating etc. So she is constantly doubting If Rafe is doing something behind her back and it’s damaging their relationship/Rafe is feeling very offended that she could ever think that and leaves very upset. So some self-sabotage on her part.

a/n: thank you so much for requesting!! 💗 pngs from @saizun

the tension in the room was as palpable as the crisp autumn air seeping through the edges of rafe's window. you stood by the edge of the bed, arms crossed, while rafe paced near the door, his brows furrowed and lips drawn tight. it wasn’t the first time you’d found yourself in this situation—accusations hanging in the air like a storm cloud.

“i just don’t get why you think i’m lying to you,” rafe finally said, running a hand through his messy blond hair. his voice was raw, teetering between frustration and sadness. “what did i do this time?”

the pang of guilt that shot through you was immediate, but it was quickly overshadowed by the relentless doubt that had been gnawing at you for weeks.

“i don’t know, rafe,” you muttered, staring down at your hands. “you’re just… too good to be true sometimes. i mean, look at you.” you gestured vaguely at his tall, athletic frame, the way he looked even in a simple t-shirt and jeans. “how do i know you’re not out there talking to someone else? everyone likes you.”

he stopped pacing, standing still for a moment as your words sank in.

“you think just because people like me, i’d cheat on you?” his voice was quiet, but it carried a weight that made you wince.

“it’s not like that—”

“then what is it like, y/n?” he interrupted, his tone sharp now. he stepped closer, his piercing blue eyes locking onto yours. “because this isn’t the first time we’ve had this conversation. you keep accusing me of something i’m not doing, and it’s…” he exhaled shakily, taking a step back. “it’s killing me, honestly.”

the tears you’d been holding back began to sting your eyes. you hated how this always ended—with you feeling like the villain and rafe looking at you like you’d just run over his dog.

“it’s not about you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “it’s about me. i’ve been through this before, rafe. i’ve trusted someone before, and they… they betrayed me.”

“and i’m paying for what someone else did?” his voice cracked, and he shook his head in disbelief. “do you even hear yourself?”

you stayed silent, your chest tightening with every second that passed.

rafe let out a bitter laugh, running his hands over his face. “do you really think i’m that kind of person? that after everything we’ve been through, i’d just—what? throw it all away for someone else?”

“i don’t know!” you blurted out, tears finally spilling over. “i don’t know what to believe anymore. i want to trust you, rafe, but it’s so hard. every time you’re late, every time you get a text and don’t tell me who it’s from, my mind goes to the worst place.”

“that’s not fair,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “you don’t even give me the benefit of the doubt. you don’t even try to trust me.”

you wiped at your tears angrily, hating how vulnerable you felt. “maybe i don’t know how,” you admitted, your voice breaking.

rafe stared at you for a long moment, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he fought to keep his composure.

“i can’t do this,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

your heart sank. “what do you mean?”

“i can’t keep proving myself to you when i’ve done nothing wrong,” he said, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “i love you, y/n. i love you so much it hurts, but this?” he gestured between the two of you. “this is tearing me apart.”

you took a step toward him, panic rising in your chest. “rafe, please. i’m sorry. i’ll work on it, i promise. just don’t… don’t leave.”

but he shook his head, his expression a mixture of sadness and resolve. “i need some time to think,” he said, his voice trembling. “i can’t keep feeling like i’m not enough for you when i’ve given you everything i have.”

he turned and walked out the door, leaving you standing there in stunned silence. the sound of the front door closing echoed through the house, and you collapsed onto the bed, sobbing into your hands.

you had pushed him away. the one person who had always been there for you, who had loved you despite your flaws, was gone—and it was your fault.

the days that followed were a blur. you went through the motions of life, but everything felt hollow without rafe. he didn’t call, didn’t text, and the silence was deafening. you wanted to reach out, to beg for his forgiveness, but every time you picked up your phone, the shame stopped you.

instead, you spent your time reflecting on the mess you’d made. you thought about the way you’d let your past dictate your present, how you’d let your insecurities poison something good.

you thought about rafe’s face the last time you saw him—the hurt in his eyes, the way his voice broke when he said he loved you.

you loved him too. you always had. but you’d let your fear overshadow that love, and now you were paying the price.

a week later, you found yourself standing outside rafe’s house, your heart pounding in your chest. you’d rehearsed what you wanted to say a million times, but now that you were here, your mind was blank.

taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door.

it opened a moment later, and there he was—rafe, looking as handsome as ever despite the tiredness in his eyes.

“y/n,” he said, his voice soft but guarded.

“hi,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “can i come in?”

he hesitated for a moment before stepping aside to let you in. you walked into the living room, the familiar space feeling foreign without the warmth you were used to.

“i’m sorry for just showing up,” you said, turning to face him. “i just… i needed to see you.”

he nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. “what do you want, y/n?”

“i want to fix this,” you said, your voice trembling. “i want to fix us.”

rafe let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “you can’t just say that and expect everything to go back to normal.”

“i know,” you said quickly. “i know i’ve hurt you, and i hate myself for it. but i’ve spent the last week thinking about everything, and i realized… i’ve been so unfair to you, rafe. i let my past ruin what we had, and i’m so sorry.”

he looked at you, his expression unreadable. “do you even trust me?”

“yes,” you said without hesitation. “or… i want to. i know i’ve given you every reason to think i don’t, but i do, rafe. i trust you more than anyone. i’m just scared. scared of losing you, scared of getting hurt again.”

“you’re not the only one who’s scared,” he said, his voice softening. “do you know how it feels to love someone who’s always waiting for you to screw up? to feel like no matter what you do, it’s never going to be enough?”

tears welled up in your eyes, and you stepped closer to him. “i’m so sorry, rafe,” you whispered. “i never meant to make you feel that way. you are enough—more than enough. and i don’t want to lose you because i couldn’t get out of my own head.”

he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “i don’t know, y/n. i don’t know if i can keep doing this.”

“please,” you said, your voice breaking. “i’ll do better. i’ll prove to you that i can be better, that i can trust you the way you deserve to be trusted.”

he studied your face, his blue eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt.

“i love you,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “but this has to change. i can’t keep living like this.”

“it will,” you promised, stepping closer and taking his hands in yours. “i’ll change. i’ll prove to you that i can be better.”

he sighed but didn’t pull away from you. “this is your last chance, y/n,” he said quietly. “i mean it.”

“i won’t waste it,” you promised, looking up at him.

for a moment, there was nothing but silence between you, the tension thick and heavy. then, slowly, rafe’s hands moved to cup your face.

“don’t make me regret this,” he murmured, his voice soft and raw.

“i won’t,” you whispered, your breath hitching as he leaned down.

his lips met yours in a kiss that was both desperate and tender, a silent promise of forgiveness and hope. you clung to him, pouring every ounce of your love and regret into the kiss, vowing to yourself that this time, you would get it right.

when he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed.

“i love you, baby,” he said again, his voice steady this time.

“i love you too,” you whispered, your heart swelling with both relief and determination.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl l @evermorx89 @aariahnaa @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog

[toomuchbirth]

Birth Quickie 2:

Conversation

I hadn't thought it would feel like this.

Sure I’d seen shows. Even videos. I assumed they were playing it up, being dramatic. It was taking all my focus not to scream with the contractions, or break down sobbing as I felt this parasite moving down inside me. I hadn't meant for it to.happen here, like this. I was supposed to be hiding in the shed, or at least the basement.

Then mom and dad had friends from the office over and asked me to stay upstairs. I didn't argue, assumed it would be ok. Then contractions started getting worse, my waters broke and soaked my sweats and panties. I knew from looking into it that didn't really mean anything. Sure, it was alarming, but come on. I could have hours still, even the better part of a day.

Of course, I couldn't be that lucky. I sat on the edge of my bed, facing away from the door, breathing through cramp after cramp. I was timing them, but I got really scared once I got around six minutes apart. Then I got a feeling like I kinda needed to use the bathroom, but I didn't want to risk getting stuck in there if the little accident was closer than I thought.

Turns out it was. That subtle bathroom-y feeling was a pushy feeling trying to creep in. I tried to fight it as long as I could, burning up in my layered T-shirt and long sleeve I’d been wearing to try to hide my growing belly from my parents. The urge got worse, stronger, more urgent as time went on. Contractions getting closer and closer, it started to hurt to not push. I barely managed to stay quiet, keeping my breath as steady as possible, eyes closed tight as I began to give in against my will, my body pushing on its own even as I fought it.

I tried to make a new plan on the fly. It was clearly coming. I’d have it and try to climb out the window, leave it at a shelter like I originally planned. I just needed to stay calm, let it come as quietly as I could. Mom and Dad could NOT know I had gotten pregnant, ever. Let alone how it had happened. I couldn't imagine how they would react but I know it would be horrible.

Speaking of horrible, the pain and pressure was getting worse. I had started pushing without meaning to, and at this point gave up fighting my body. This was happening, here and now. Gripping my blanket and lifting my knees slightly, I let out the tiniest grunt, face scrunching with effort and toes curling. I could immediately feel an entire new sensation. Not just the intense pressure of a head just inside my vagina, but BURNING. My lips were spreading, I was starting to crown into my soaked panties.

This was really happening. I was having a baby for him and he didn't even know, didn't care… it hurt so bad, I couldn't stand thinking about him, having a normal dinner happy and just thinking about the rest later this week, his latest practice, he probably barely remembered what he'd done-

The door opened to my bedroom, and I jumped with shock. “Hey… I just wanted to check in on you. Are you ok, sweetie?” I took a breath,.steadied myself, very vividly aware of the straining teardrop of my most intimate place hidden inside my clothes. “Y-yea! I’m doing fine! Just… you know. Thinking about stuff.” I tried to smile, looking back over my shoulder.

God, I was so hot. I could feel the sweat running down my face, soaking into my shirt. My hair was a mess, sticking to me and itself. I looked like a disaster. I looked like some dumb girl giving birth to a baby she didn't want in her bedroom, hoping her parents wouldn't catch her. I was so stupid, how did I think I could get away with this?!

“You’re probably annoyed with us, huh? I keep telling your father that we shouldn't make you go to your room when our friends are over, but he just says you probably don't want to be around anyway…”

“It’s f-fine!” I managed, and I prayed she didn’t hear the raised pitch of my voice, the way my smile looked like grit teeth, my hands twisting in the sheets as my body started to push on its own again, another contraction squeezing me tight. “Really! I just have stuff going on, and… I g-get it. You guys are people too… and I… I really do get it!” Fuck… I could feel the head… it wasn't a teardrop anymore… it was a full crown… no… worse, it… it-!

I convulsed as a sudden burst of movement overwhelmed me. The entire head slipped free of me, making a huge bulge in my underwear and sweatpants. Oh god, if Mom looked around me just a tiny bit, she’d see the soaked fabric, the shape of a baby coming out of her daughter in shameful secret. I heard the patter of fluid hitting the carpet impossibly loudly. There’s no way Mom wouldn't catch me. My life was over. She would make me keep it and I would be the first girl with a kid in my class and for Him no less…

“I appreciate it, hon.” Mom said, a sigh in her voice. “I just don't want to miss you while we have you in our lives. You’ve grown up so fast. Some girls your age have kids already, can you believe it? But I know you’re smarter than to ever let anything like that happen to you.”

I wanted to scream, everything felt so wrong. “Yea! You taught me to be careful!” I managed to sneak out, back arching slightly, I HOPED subtly, as I pushed in front of her. It was coming out. Oh god the shoulders were so big… this was torture, they were bulging me so hard, my body was straining… I was giving birth!!!

“Well… your dad is probably worried about me. I just wanted to make sure you were ok. I worry about you, you know? I want you to know we care about you, we’re here for you. I love you.”

I couldn't stop pushing. I fought to keep the growl of effort out of my voice. “I love you too, mom.” I sounded hoarse, strained, but seemingly not too much. She closed the door and I heard her walk away.

Seconds after the couldn’t see me anymore, the inevitable happened. The shoulders slipped free, and the body slithered out of my most intimate place, filling my clothes as I sagged in exhaustion. “Oh god… oh god… I just gave birth…” I whisper-panted to myself, praying I could get away with this. I just wanted my normal life back.

[lvnleah]

Hey!! Saw ur open for RQs just wondering Would u fancy writing this request?

Leah and y/n ended their relashionship a year ago when the transfers window came in which caused reader to go abroad but yknow previously playing for arsenal y/n was also really close freinds with Alex Scott and got the invite to her party on New Year’s Eve which led to a very nauseating moment when reader came face to face with Leah haven’t not seen her in such a long time but the more drinks that were being handed around the more it made Leah brave enough and finally gave Leah the courage to pull you away from your group of freinds up to the top of the balcony terrace where you both have a teary eyed heart to heart conversation followed by a kiss full of emotion and the promise of a fresh beginning xx

back to you | leah williamson.

The music was loud, the drinks were flowing, and the atmosphere at Alex Scott’s New Year’s Eve party was everything you’d hoped for—until it wasn’t.

You hadn’t been back in London for more than a week, and even though you knew the risks of running into Leah at Alex’s party, you’d convinced yourself it would be fine. But the moment you saw her across the room, all the air left your lungs.

She looked just like you remembered—sharp in a tailored suit, her blonde hair tied back loosely, and her signature smirk that made your chest ache. For a moment, her eyes met yours, and the smirk faltered, replaced by something softer, almost hesitant. You quickly turned away, gripping your glass tighter.

“Are you alright?” Alex asked, nudging you playfully.

“Yeah,” you said, forcing a smile. “Just tired.”

You spent most of the night avoiding her, sticking close to Alex and a few familiar faces. But Leah seemed to be everywhere—her laugh carrying over the music, her presence in every corner of the room. And with each drink that passed, your carefully built composure started to crack.

When you glanced over your shoulder and saw Leah approaching, your heart dropped.

“Y/N,” she said softly, her voice almost drowned out by the music.

You turned, bracing yourself. “Leah.”

She looked at you for a long moment, her hands stuffed into her pockets. “Can we talk?”

“Now?” you asked, glancing at the group of friends you’d been chatting with.

“Please,” she said, her voice almost pleading.

You hesitated but eventually nodded, following her up a narrow staircase to the terrace. The cold night air hit you immediately, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the party below. Leah leaned on the railing, staring out at the city lights, and you joined her, leaving a careful amount of space between you.

Neither of you spoke for a moment, the distant sound of fireworks filling the silence.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Leah said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Alex invited me,” you replied, your tone guarded.

She nodded, running a hand through her hair. “I… I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening. “That was kind of the point, wasn’t it? We broke up because I went abroad, Leah. You stayed here. That was the deal.”

Her head dropped, and when she turned to look at you, her eyes were glassy. “I know, but… I thought it’d get easier. That I’d move on, or you would, and we’d both be fine. But I’m not fine, Y/N. I haven’t been fine since the day you left.”

Your breath hitched, and you looked away, blinking back tears. “Leah, don’t do this. It’s been a year. We’ve both…” You trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

“Have we?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly. “Because I haven’t. I still think about you every single day. And seeing you tonight—” She paused, wiping at her eyes. “It made me realize I can’t keep pretending I’m okay without you.”

You closed your eyes, the weight of her words crashing over you. “You think I don’t miss you? That it wasn’t the hardest thing I’ve ever done to leave? But we made that choice for a reason, Leah. We were chasing different things.”

“I don’t care about that anymore,” she said, stepping closer. “I’d give it all up if it meant having you back.”

Your resolve cracked, a tear slipping down your cheek. “Don’t say things like that. You don’t mean it.”

“I do,” she insisted, her voice steady despite the emotion in her eyes. “I love you, Y/N. I never stopped.”

The fireworks started in the distance, lighting up the sky, but all you could focus on was Leah—the raw honesty in her expression, the way her hands trembled slightly as she reached for you.

“I don’t know if we can fix this,” you whispered, your voice shaking.

“We can,” she said, her tone filled with quiet determination. “If you’re willing to try, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

You stared at her for a long moment before finally letting out a shaky breath. “I missed you so much,” you admitted, your voice breaking.

Her face crumpled, and she closed the distance between you, pulling you into a tight embrace. The moment her arms wrapped around you, the dam broke, and you clung to her as tears streamed down your face.

When you finally pulled back, her hands cupped your face, her thumbs gently brushing away your tears. She leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away, but you didn’t. When her lips met yours, it was soft but filled with the kind of emotion that only came from heartbreak and longing.

As you pulled apart, she rested her forehead against yours, her breath warm against your skin. “This can be our fresh start,” she murmured.

“Okay,” you whispered, your heart pounding as the fireworks continued to explode in the sky above. “Let’s try.”

[poguelandiarafe]

Sooo I just saw this https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZP8FR5vPf/ tik tok, and it's stirring something in meeee...can you write about rafes inner turmoil, and how reader helps him with it? Love your writing sfm!!!

thank you so much lovely! this is such a good idea, i love it! i hope you like it <3 i’ve added the video above ^ (all credits to @petrovatbh on tiktok!!)

masterlist

————

rafe’s been home from morocco for just over three days and ever since he stepped through the door, the air has been heavy and thick with tension. he’s barely said two words to you, preferring to stay locked up in his office or out of the house and away from your questions. tonight, however, you decide to try your luck again.

“rafe?” you say softly when you hear the front door slam shut.

he isn’t expecting you to be awake since it’s way past midnight. yet here you are, sitting on the sofa, waiting for him to come home.

“not tonight.” he huffs out, making his way to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

“yes tonight, rafe,” you begin, getting up and following him into the bathroom, “i don’t know what happened in morocco, nor do i want to but i’m your girlfriend, you can’t keep ignoring me. we live together but the past few days i feel like i’ve been living with a ghost and it’s not fair.”

rafe stops in front of the sink, gripping the edge of the counter tight. his gaze meets yours in the mirror and he lets out a sharp breath. there’s nothing you want more in this moment than for rafe to let you in and talk to you, to tell you about whatever’s on his mind.

“i said not now.” he mutters, splashing some cold water on his face to calm his annoyance, “i won’t do this right now.”

“then when?” you snap, growing tired at him refusing to talk about it, “you keep saying that, rafe. would you prefer if i left you alone completely? or how about if i move out so you don’t have to be annoyed when you see me in the house we share? you know, since we live together? if it’s about something i’ve done or you don’t love me anymore please, just tell me because i can’t deal with you like this.”

quickly, he turns around and exhales sharply, trying to find the words. it breaks his heart that you think he doesn’t love you when in reality he loves you more than anything. he just hates talking about what happened on the runway all those years ago.

“it’s not about you.”

he says the words with quiet confidence, trying to reassure you and at the same time silently ask for you to stop pushing him. but you don’t. you can’t stand him being so distant.

you miss your boyfriend.

“rafe, please talk to me. i can’t try to help if you don’t tell me what’s going through your head.”

a few seconds of silence pass before he pushes off the counter and brushes past you, walking into the bedroom. you follow him, sitting next to him on the bed.

finally, rafe gathers the words, “shoupe brought her up.”

“peterkin?” you whisper, the name causing goosebumps on your skin.

he doesn’t have to answer, the lack of one sufficient enough. it’s been years since either of you brought up that day, but the memory of it is still as haunting as ever.

“what did he say?” you ask, even though you’re scared of the answer.

“before we left for morocco… i told him i’d tell him about what happened with my dad and the plane and everything that happened on the runway last summer,” he has to take a breath, the memory replaying in his head, “but he wanted to know about peterkin. about what really happened. i- i killed her and he wants me to confess. he knows, i know he does but-”

“rafe, calm down.” you have to cut him off, sensing how stressed out he’s getting.

his chest is heaving as he takes in deep breaths and runs a hand over his face. from the corner of his eye, he can see that you’re facing him, your eyes studying his face.

“all i want to do is forget about that day, leave it in the past,” he whispers, interlocking his fingers with yours when you rest your hand on his thigh, “but shoupe- he brought it all back. it felt like i was back there. and then to have to spend all that time with them in morocco and away from you… it was horrible.”

carefully, you grab his face to make him look at you, his glossy eyes meeting yours. you gently wipe away the tears that trail down his cheeks.

“baby, it’s okay to feel that way. this has been with you for so long, it was bound to happen one day. but you don’t have to do it alone, i thought you knew that. i’m here for you, i always will be.”

your words apparently don’t have the intended effect of calming him down. he pulls away from your touch and abruptly stands up, pacing back and forth in front of you.

“no, you don’t get it!” he shouts, fists clenching by his side, “you didn’t shoot her, you don’t have to live with this guilt, y/n! she wasn’t supposed to be there. i did it for my dad and it all means nothing because now he’s gone.”

“you can’t undo what you did, rafe. it happened. but you’re not that person anymore,” you say firmly, also standing up, “you’re trying to make up for it, everyone can see that. maybe you can’t, but everyone else can. that mistake doesn’t define you so stop acting like it does.”

“she’s still dead and it’s still my fault! it doesn’t matter that i’ve ‘changed’.” he spits, laughing bitterly as the last word leaves his lips.

“yes, rafe. it does matter because you’re trying. you’re trying to do better and be a better person than who you were, someone people are proud of.” you push, begging him to listen to what you’re actually saying.

he stops in front of you, towering over you yet still the smallest you’ve ever seen him, his vulnerability evident in this moment.

“you really think i’ve changed? that i can ever come back from what i did?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

“yes,” you nod, your hand cupping his cheek, “but, let me help you. whatever you need me to do, just tell me and i’ll do it because i love you.”

rafe exhales shakily, a tiny weight feeling like it’s been lifted off his shoulders. finally, he returns your nod and pulls you into a hug, strong arms tightly gripping you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

“i love you too. and i’m sorry… about everything.”

“we’ll get through it together, just like always,” you promise, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, “but please keep trying. don’t go backwards.”

“i’ll try.”

“that’s all i ask for.”

[satonomi]

ummmmmm excuse me, my dearest fae, you can’t just say this and then not expand???

bounty hunter satoru?? do you think he has a dirty little space ship that desperately needs maintenance and he constantly brings back aliens from trips just so he can play around with them, exploring their bodies till they’re trembling and whining…………………………………

imagine in a galaxy far, far away, there’s a place where aliens and humans co-exist. now, about most of the population of aliens appear pretty humanoid, just very colorful skin and hair (pink, purple, green, blue, etc.)

the setting is very much like that of guardians of the galaxy, and gojo satoru is the most notorious bounty hunter there is. i imagine him (i’ll try to post a drawing soon) with a lot of cyber tech. his whole outfit would be black and he uses two guns, one with blue led lights and the other red (trying to get y’all to envision.) he’d also have his signature blindfold but instead, it comes in the form of cyber tech mask glasses that can dematerialize by pressing a button on the side (kinda like peter quill’s.)

he rarely ever misses when he shoots and he always catches the perps (nah, i’d win space edition.) and satoru is very serious abt his job (ik shocking but he’s gotta make that bag somehow and being a bounty hunter pays really well.) he’s very confident to say that nothing is able to distract or deter him from getting it done. but unfortunately for him, he has only one weakness. and that was alien girl puthayy 😛

see, the problem was, aliens and humans can not reproduce with one another. it wasn’t impossible, it was just against the rules. and by that definition, it also meant that it was illegal to have sex with one another. but let’s be fr, it’s going to happen whether it’s outlawed or not.

the first time satoru’s fucked an alien woman, it was at a strip club. as a man, he was curious to what it’d feel like to fuck one. and unfortunately for him, it was the best he’s ever had. it was his guilty pleasure, the one thing no-one could know about or else, it’d risk his job. but it was just too good. and where he used to jerk his cock off to human girls on his ship, now he does it thinking about alien girls. it always has him coming fast, and sometimes, just the thought can have him busting a nut in his pants, completely untouched.

he’s never had mind-blowing sex like that before in his life. the man is already a sex fanatic and craves it all the time (it helps him blow off steam), but he can’t cum when fucking regular human women anymore ;( it’s cause aliens were far more sensitive than humans, their senses advanced with the ability to feel more. and there was no feeling on earth (pun intended) like rutting into a warm cunt that was eager to suck him in, strangling his cock cuz some alien chick was horny out of her mind, pussy practically drooling all over him.

it’d have to be a secret though. and luckily for satoru, no one suspects someone like him, who’s job was to hunt down rogue aliens, to love sloppy extraterrestrial pussy.

satoru’s ship is made from the same advanced tech as his suit. it gets dirty from his constant partying and hook-ups. so, when he needs to get it checked cuz some huge beefy alien dude breaks his console during one of his ragers, he doesn’t bring it to the usual repair shop everyone goes to for their space ships. oh no no, he goes to one run by the other species.

there were a lot of hot ladies working there (because sexism doesn’t exist amongst aliens like at least they doing sumn right unlike us 😒) so, a lot of the times, his ship doesn’t end up fixed at the end.

he… likes to stay and watch them with dark, hooded eyes as they prance around his ship, eager to do their job. every once in a while, he’ll put a hand on their hip, letting it linger just long enough before pulling away when he comes over to “check on the progress.” the touch isn’t uninvited, he knows from the sultry gazes and flirty touches that are given in turn that they’re very much into him too.

it’s not long before he has them bent over the console, thrusting into the warm gooeyness of their sticky hole as they mewl and whine for more of his fat cock while he pinches their sensitive nipples ‘till they squirm.

they’re loud, and he loves it. it feeds his ego to know how hungry they are for him, for his cock. aliens were known for multiplying by the dozen, he assumes it has something to do with that. satoru’s thought about it before, breeding an alien. it was just a fantasy though, a fantasy that has him spilling his cum inside them on the spot, their needy whimpers begging him to.

that was his routine, catching criminals and fucking alien girl pussy on the side. and when his next mission entails finding some lady who stole some priceless piece of tech that could’ve sold for a lot, he was on board to find you right away (and that had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you were smoking hot.)

it was easy for him to track you, he was the best at this job after all. you try to flee but he manhandles you against the wall, trapping you with your wrists pinned behind you, his chest up against your back. his warm breath hits your neck, panting from chasing you down. satoru’s eyes are dilated, but you’re unable to see with your cheek pressed against the cool metal in front of you.

this wasn’t what you had expected, you were caught so easily! it was a bad idea from the start, but it was either take a leap of faith and end up rich or be broke forever.

the pleas instantly leave your lips, begging to be let go. you didn’t want to go to prison. you were young and had so much to live for! (the two cents in your back pocket 😓) satoru listened, his cerulean eyes twinkling with amusement and poorly concealed arousal as you went on, swearing how you’d never do it again, that he could take back what you stole and forget it ever happened. he contemplated for a moment, choosing his cards carefully, before he’s leaning in next to your ear to whisper, “no can do, sweetheart.”

you shiver, and the atmosphere seems to change around you suddenly at the shift in his tone. a feeling you were all too familiar with stirs in your stomach, your body simply a slave to pleasure (curse your biology!) and the way he had spoken to you just then had you wet in a matter of seconds.

you try to compromise, “i’ll do anything!” it flies out of your mouth before you can even think. and he smirks, like he had been waiting for that the entire time.

“anything?”

and that’s how you end up getting railed by the human man who was sent to capture you.

“‘s so fucking good— fuck!”, he’s slurring by your ear, like he was getting drunk off of pounding into you. the thrusts were desperate, as if he could never get enough of your insides. satoru could stay like this forever, watching his cock slide in and out, stretching you open with his girth. he clings onto you like he never wants to let go, your wrists free and resting on the metal in front of you, the warm puffs of your breath condensing on the cold alloy. strong pale arms covered in high-tech were wrapped tightly around your waist while his hips thrust into you with a hungered fervor.

you release a keen whine, senses overwhelmed by the pleasure. satoru craves to see and feel your puffy cunt enveloping his girth over and over. he was obsessed with the way an alien girl acted at her most natural state, unable to fight the desire to be bred like a feral animal, not a single thought in those dumb brains once you stick a cock in them.

the tip of his mushroom head hits that spot inside you that has you seeing stars and absolutely gushing around him. he gives you a low groan of approval when you clench, “jus’ like that pretty, jus’ like that—”

then he lets you go after blowing a load inside you, leaving you with shaky legs and a throbbing for more. and you totally don’t start thieving more often just so he can come find you and do it all over again.

[yanderecrazysie]

Twisted Zoo Ending Three: Flying the Coop

This is based on the stories of a keeper reader with the octotrio by @ashensgrotto and @merakiui .

I am no longer doing tags. Tumblr hates me and I’d rather not waste my time when there are so many! You can keep up to date on Twisted Zoo on Tumblr, Quotev, Wattpad, or AO3.

WARNINGS: yandere themes

Note: For Tumblr, the mature version of the endings (the afterendings) will begin sometime after I finish all the normal endings.

Note 2: Tumblr was originally told that all the birds would have one ending, but I have decided to split them up into three endings (The Price of Beauty and Birds of a Feather alongside this one)

The sky was overcast today, your sunny mood not matching the dark gray, cloudy sky. As you approached the dome where the birds resided, you decided to check on the damage. 

You still found it hard to believe the birds had made any damage to metal. But surely Mr. Crowley wouldn’t lie to you. 

There were guards stationed outside the area of the dome that had been damaged. A white tarp fluttered in the cold breeze, making it impossible for you to see the extent of what the birds had done. 

The guards gave you a respectful nod as you passed by. Their eyes didn’t seem to leave you, even as you walked farther and farther away. You shook off the thought, assuming you were imagining things after everything Mr. Crowley had said.

You opened the door to the dome and immediately noticed the difference in the air. Tense, as though something was coiling tightly around you, ready to snap. You looked towards the damage but another white tarp covered the entire area. The rest of the enclosure was the same- the marsh where the flamingos lived, the bright green grassy expanse for the peacocks, and the individual cages for the-

Where was Deuce, Ace, and Trey? The raven, parrot, and owl’s cages were all empty, the doors ripped off their hinges. The bird houses were covered in deep scars, as if talons had scratched every inch of the wood.

And then you spotted them.

Ace gave you an enthusiastic wave, but Deuce and Trey remained serious, all three staring at you. Even from a distance, you could see their pupils were blown wide. Something was wrong with them.

With a gulp, you tried to force your legs to move, but you were frozen between approaching them and seeing what was wrong or fleeing. The trio began approaching you and your heart stopped in your chest altogether.

“Hey, (Y/n),” Ace said with a wide grin, his sharp eyes locked on you without blinking even once, “Did you come to check out the damage?”

You nodded despite your fear, feeling a shiver run up your spine as Trey and Deuce split off and began to circle you. Their wings were tucked tightly to their bodies, but occasionally twitched as though they wanted to spread them.

“Have you done any more damage?” you managed to ask.

Trey smiled pleasantly, “Would you believe us if we said ‘no’?”

Deuce, who was normally quiet, spoke up, “No harm meant. We want more space.”

“Space?” You looked at them curiously, trying to ignore the twisting in your stomach, “Why would you need more space?”

As soon as the question left your lips you felt stupid. Ace laughed, “Birds aren’t meant to be in cages. Do you think we’re supposed to stay in the little spaces Crowley and his goons made for us?”

“Isn’t that what you agreed to?” you asked.

“We were happy with it… until now,” Ace explained, “But we’ve grown restless ever since you arrived.”

You glanced back at the enclosure door and instead was met with the sight of a smirking Trey. He had positioned himself between you and the only exit. Before you could truly panic, Deuce was wrenching your arms behind your back and clapping a hand over your mouth.

Trey gave you a closed-eyed smile, “We want to talk.” He opened his eyes, his smile twisting into a devious smirk, “About you coming with us.”

Deuce’s thumb brushed circles against your cheek, trying to soothe you, while Ace gave you an earnest look, “What’s the point of escaping if you aren’t with us?”

So it wasn’t really about escaping- it was about claiming you. Mr. Crowley’s speech came back to you. “They will especially latch on to anyone who shows them true kindness.” 

You tried to pull your wrists free and began to frantically shake your head. You managed to slip from Deuce’s grasp over your mouth and wailed, “Come with you? Are you crazy? I can’t just-”

“Actually, you can,” Ace snickered, “After all, you don’t have a choice in the matter.” He leaned in close, his voice a conspiratorial whisper as a hunger swirled in his overblown pupils, “We’ve been working on this escape for a while, and guess what, sweetheart? Today’s the day.”

You began to squirm in Deuce’s ironclad grip, “I’m not going anywhere with you guys! I’m just a researcher- I didn’t sign up for this. Help! Security! Please! HELP!”

Ace laughed loudly, “They won’t help you, trust me.” His stare became a bit more gentle, “Look, you’ve been taking care of us for so long, now it’s our turn to care for you.”

Deuce’s wings twitched with barely restrained excitement, “Don’t fight. Be a good girl.”

“Yeah,” Ace agreed with a wicked grin, “We went through all this trouble because we love you! Isn’t that sweet?”

“Sweet?” you wailed, “It’s insanity, that’s what this is! Now let me go before you get in trouble!”

“Trouble? In trouble with who?” Ace tilted his head, pretending to be confused, “No, no, you have it wrong, silly. We’re not the ones who will be in trouble.”

“Whatever I did, I’m sorry!” A tear trickled down your cheek as you began to thrash in Deuce’s grip, “I’m really sorry!”

Deuce leaned in to your ear, “You not need to be sorry.”

Trey spoke up behind you, “We’ll be free. All of us.”

Ace picked up a vine from the floor and motioned for Deuce to hand you over. You let out a scream for help, but when you looked towards the guards outside the dome, you realized they hadn’t so much as flinched.

No one was coming to save you.

As soon as your wrists were bound tightly, Trey took flight, his talons quickly curling into your shoulders and under your arms. Ace and Deuce joined him in the air and you were lifted off the ground.

There was no point in screaming anymore and your voice hurt. Instead, you cried softly to yourself as the bird halflings blew through the white tarps like they weren’t even there. The damage was so extensive that it was basically a giant hole for them to fly easily through.

From the ground, Mr. Crowley waved goodbye to you, a smile on his face as though he was pleased to see you being dragged into the sky.

The gloomy sky finally matched your mood.

[shhhsecretsideblog]

Fortunetly, you're about to get the promotion you've been working for for the last 3 years to get. Unfortunately, you're also hiding that you're heavily pregnant with your boss's baby. You hadn't wanted to have sex, hadn't wanted to become a mother. You knew everyone finding out you were having a baby would end your promotion chances, if not get you fired outright rather than give you maternity leave. And that's not even considering your husband finding out you were due any time now with someone else's little drunken accident.

It's a celebratory dinner for your accomplishments, and you're dressed to just, just barely be able to hide your condition. Anyone looking too close or too long, and it'll become obvious you have a bump under this classy holiday sweater. That's not helping the mounting labor pains, however. They're getting so close, so bad. About ten minutes apart, and getting stronger, closer fast...

You know you have a speech soon, the moment they'll announce your promotion. Can you even risk being on that stage in your condition? What do you even do if you can't? How do you keep your husband from finding out you're having a baby?

The Boss’s Baby

[short story - 1269 words, fpreg, clothing birth, public birth]

I readjusted my knitted holiday sweater dress for the umpteenth time, pulling it out and down, trying to stretch the knit so it hung “loosely” over my curves. It was the only item that even remotely covered the swell of my belly, filled with a baby that wasn’t my husbands. He was with me this evening, my husband, sitting proudly at the table smiling about the promotion I was to receive. A very public promotion. 

The company held an annual dinner, recognising the business achievements of the year, but also putting the spotlight on individuals that had gone above and beyond for the company in the preceding twelve months. I’d certainly done that; managing to hide my pregnancy with the boss’s baby these past 40 weeks. But I was also being recognised for my work and would be very publicly announced as the next VP of the company in just a few minutes. 

My belly tightened again, harsh and unforgiving, and it took all my effort to keep my face from grimacing. Not to let out a moan or a groan as all the muscles in my heavy womb contracted and squeezed downwards.

Not now, please not now. I begged to the secret I held inside of my body. 

The timing couldn’t have been worse; this formal dinner was happening right at my due date. Well almost, my due date came and went last week. But still the babe in my belly stayed put, snug in my womb for another week. Until now. 

The pains had started this morning and as much as I willed them to go away - they only got stronger and closer together. Contractions. I was definitely having contractions, I was definitely in labour. But I couldn’t tell anyone. No one even knew I was pregnant. So I was forced to go along with my day even with the ever increasing tightness of my hidden belly. 

My husband noticed the tension in my body as I sat beside him at the large round dinner table, surrounded by colleagues and their partners. I said I was just nervous about my speech, when in fact the baby had jolted down so far that I almost wanted to push. That couldn’t be right. I couldn’t be that far into my labour, surely…. 

I quickly excused myself to the bathroom, trying not to waddle with the baby rammed deep in my pelvis. My waters broke as soon as I locked the door of the cubicle, running down my tights and into my stilettos. Fuck. My palms pressed against the door, my legs widened instinctively, and I groaned a deep primal noise as the next contraction pressed aggressively through my body. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I really wanted to push. It felt as if my hips were being snapped apart, the baby pressing down, right against my cervix. My hips sank down, my knees bending into a half-squat as I braced against the cubicle door. I couldn’t have this baby now... My boss was here, my husband was here…. I was about to become Vice President of the company. I panted through the urge and mercifully the contraction ended. 

I should have examined myself, checked my dilation, but the idea of taking my tights off seemed too much effort. And if I was being honest, I didn’t want to know. This baby simply had to stay put. I would make it to the announcement, do my speech, and disappear discreetly afterwards. My husband would just think I’d got caught talking work with colleagues. 

So I wiped my tights of fluids, shook out my shoes, and forced my legs together. And slowly I made it back to the table.  

I didn’t have time to sit back down, to sit beside my husband who was looking at me so proudly, as I was being immediately ushered to the side of the stage. My boss was behind the podium, dressed in his sharp designer suit, making a glowing speech about my achievements at the company. How I had worked hard and worked my way up the ranks. But I could barely hear what else he said when the next contraction struck. My body nearly doubled over with the force of it, my hand flew out and I leaned against the wall and I panted under my breath. Oh shit. The pressure, the urgency, the sheer weight of the head on my cervix was unbearable. I couldn’t stop myself from pushing. Right there beside the stage as my boss rattled off all my impressive achievements. And then he turned to me, smiling, unaware I was trying not to give birth to his baby, and he called me up on stage. 

The bright lights were scorching on my sweaty and sensitive skin, my jumper dress loose but aggravating every one of my senses. I could barely keep my legs together as I stepped on the stage and immediately I gripped on to the podium to stop myself from doubling over. Hidden behind the wooden plinth my boss smacked my arse with a wink, a sign of his congratulations. I could have screamed. 

My words were forced and strained as I began my speech, my body was trembling with the effort of not giving birth. The white knuckles of my fingers on the podium glowed under the spotlight. The baby was slipping down! I could feel it. I wasn’t pushing, but it was moving anyway. My body was automatically doing the work for me, despite my wishes. I couldn’t help the grunt that slipped from my mouth into the microphone, as I involuntarily pushed. Bearing down and bringing the head to my entrance, bulging into my underwear beneath my loose fitting jumper dress. 

No…. Don’t push…. I begged my body but instead my legs widened and my muscles pushed again. My husband’s eyes were looking at me curiously, knowing something was wrong. Whereas my boss was too self-absorbed to notice anything other than his face on the screens that were displaying both of us on stage to the packed conference hall. 

I opened my mouth to resume my speech, but no sound came out. My hand disappeared from the podium and flew between my legs, feeling the curve of the head that was starting to emerge. I clamped my palm over my tights and underwear trying to keep the baby from coming out, but my body gave another deep and grunty push. People were starting to murmur, I could hear the sea of the crowd whispering about what was happening. I wanted to leave, to get off the stage, to get this damn baby out of my body. But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t take my hand off the podium, and I daren’t take the other off of my crotch. The pressure was too much, my vision swirling from the pain as the head stretched me wider and wider and wider. I sank to my knees, disappearing beneath the wooden podium as I pushed and pushed and pushed, and the head burst out of me into my underwear. 

My boss pulled me up from my armpits, whispering angrily in my ear - What’s wrong with you?! 

My legs were trembling, like a newborn deer, wide and unsteady. I had one hand holding the swell of my jumper dress, the other cradling the head of my illegitimate child as it brushed against the skin of my inner thighs. 

“I’m… having… a baby…..nnnnghhhhh-!!” I growled as I pushed again, uncontrollably. And the whole room gasped, every word from my lips caught on the microphone and echoed loudly around the room. 

[muniimyg]

falling in love 》 series m.list

note: for the sake of timelines ,, let's say this extra takes place around ch 5 !!! the text (pic 1) is considered part 1 for this extra <3 hope that makes sense !!!

warnings: implied smut !!! jk is abt to eat her out lol

taglist request: CLOSED

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @defzcl @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @boraength @era-genius @4ksj @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns @jeonqkooks-main @ellesalazar

//

“Oh, what the fuck? How’d you get in?” 

Jungkook’s eyes are barely open, but he is already lifting his covers for you to join him. He can’t help but offer you a sleepy smirk as you undress your outside layer. Eyeing your thin and flimsy pajamas, you attempt to sound strict and lay the boundary for tonight.

“Stop looking at me like that…” You warn. “Jungkook, we are not fucking.”

He puts his hands up, pouting innocently. “Can we revisit the topic after your meeting?”

You glare at him. 

“... Fine,” you huff, settling beside him. Jungkook feels instant relief as he reaches for your body and pulls you closer. 

Happily, he wraps his arms around you, resting his head on your stomach. He has waited for this all day. It was the one thing he was looking forward to. Even if you didn't come, he was looking forward to dreaming about it. Yet, here you are... Holding him like he's all yours.

Which he is.

The placement is just a little shy under your boobs, so you can’t blame him when he sneakily slides his hand under your shirt and squeezes them. 

“Jungkook!” you laugh, playfully pushing him away. “Seriously? Just wait an hour.”

“So we are fucking after your meeting? In an hour to be exact?”

You purse your lips at him. “Pookie, can’t you just behave?”

He ponders. Then, he remembers he doesn’t give a shit. 

“When does your meeting start?” He asks. 

You reach over for your laptop and turn the screen on. Reading the time, you shrug at him in response. “Hmmm... In like 20 minutes.”

“20 minutes is enough time,” Jungkook insists, giving you no time to escape. Hastily, he places small and sweet kisses on your lips and then on your cheeks. 

Giggling, you push him off with a groan. “Yah, Jungkook—”

“Oh come on, pookie! Did you really think my back was the only thing that was gonna get rubbed tonight?”

Your mouth drops. 

Jungkook laughs heartily as you roll your eyes at him and complain about his unhinged behaviour. Once your whining dies down, he pulls you even closer and sinks into your body. He holds you tight as you rub his back. 

“Were you napping to ignore your problems?” you ask him quietly. “And can you—holy shit—I can’t breathe! Do you have to hold me so tight?”

It feels like your bones are about to be crushed. Jungkook’s body is warm and so fucking beefy. It’s comfortable and all but wow do you need some air. In response, he buries his face in your body, tightening his grip. You let out a squeal. 

“Yes,” he murmurs. “If I don’t, you might run away.”

Dramatically, you gasp for air. “J-Jungkook, I won’t run away. I’m in my pajamas. I’d have to get dressed first, of course!”

Your joke doesn’t amuse him. 

“When I fall asleep… You might leave.” Jungkook says, revealing his hidden feelings. 

You bite your inner cheek, navigating through your feelings. Honestly, his room was warmly lit… It’s pretty chilly tonight… Not to mention that it is getting kind of late… Maybe you should stay the night. Although it’s kind of funny he assumed you were going to leave. Never have you ever done that to him. Never ever could you do it. 

“I’ll only leave if you snore.” You tease him, booping his nose. “Also, I didn’t know you were such a light sleeper."

He scrunches his nose in response. “Now you know. Take note for next time,” Jungkook yawns. “And yeah… I didn’t know if you were actually coming so I thought I would just sleep off my bad mood.”

“Did it work?”

Jungkook lets out a drowsy-like chuckle. “No. You woke me up.”

“Geez, okay… I’ll leave—”

Jungkook plops up on his elbows and hisses, “Shut up and listen to my day, woman. You’re the only good thing in my life so you’re not allowed to leave. Don’t even joke about that. God, you’re so fucking mean—”

You cup his cheeks and bring his lips to yours. Kissing him gently, you add another peck as you pull away. Holding his face close, you kiss his cheeks and murmur, “Hmmm, sorry, sorry…”

He huffs, pouting for another kiss. You give in. 

Then, he begins to ramble about all the things that made his day so horrible. 

You lay there, rubbing his back, and offer a few, “Mhmm,”’s “Oh, seriously?” and a few, “Eww. No, you’re so right. That sounds awful. I’d be upset too.” Listening to his tired voice makes you sleepy. Not that he’s boring but more because it was so soothing. That’s something you would have never admitted a few months ago…

But things change. 

He changed.

You changed too. 

Unexpectedly, being together is so comforting. Despite being each other's pain in the ass, you two were always there for each other. You two, for some odd reason, have begun to need one another. 

Each other’s warmth, each other’s touch, and each other’s presence—all of it. 

God, you two just made everything better for one another.

If falling in love was a feeling… This is it. 

Being with Jungkook is so easy.

Like... You never understood when people said that about their significant other, but now you do. The weird part is... He isn't even yours.

It's like whenever you have issues that are blown up in your head, he doesn’t try to find solutions. Instead, he listens and helps you reflect. Jungkook has a good understanding of what is his to handle and honestly? He handles you well. 

Besides, being with you is his favourite part of living. It’s as if his body wasn’t aching from the 4 hour long soccer practice. It’s as if nothing mattered because at the end of the day—if it meant that he could be with you. 

Your meeting goes smoothly. Jungkook behaves (let’s give him a gold star!) and at one point, he falls asleep. His little snores made you roll your eyes, but it didn’t motivate you to leave. If anything, it’s the reason you stayed. When the call ends, Jungkook slides his hands down your shorts and chuckles. 

“Forgot to eat dinner,” he claims, peaking with one eye. “Lemme eat that pussy…”

You blink at him. 

He returns your look with a pout. 

“Pretty please?”

You stay still. 

Then, he huffs and abruptly gets up. “You’re so annoying,” Jungkook groans as he walks to his door. Just as he’s about to leave, he makes his final comment. “Do you know how hard it was to not eat you out while you were being all cute and academic? I behaved and now I’m starving. I’m gonna make some food. You craving anything—oh fuck yes.”

Jungkook’s words are cut off as you fling your panties onto his face. 

He blinks at you, scrunching your panties in his hands. His eyes almost fall out of his head as you open your legs and lean back against his headboard. Oh, god... He is so lucky. Today truly is the best day of his life.

Jungkook watches with steady eyes as you lift your flimsy top to expose your breasts. Then, you put your hands to your sides and grip his bed sheets. He loves the way you look right now... It's mesmerizing.

Therefore, Jungkook wastes no time.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you..." He praises your body, more than ready to dive in. You roll your eyes at him but secretly love this. You know you do. You feel it between your legs and even in your heart.

He positions himself in between your legs and kisses your inner thigh. As he begins, you grip his hair with one hand and whimper, "y-you... Craving you."

[strniohoeee]

Should I?

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female, Chubby, WOC Reader

Synopsis: Y/N is scared to get a belly button piercing as she’s a bigger girl. But Matt doesn’t see an issue with it, actually he encourages her to get it. But will her fears stop her???

Warnings⚠️: None really, but there’s like freaky innuendos? Also this is like a blurb tbh😃

Song for imagine: Bound 2- Kanye West

I know you’re tired of loving

Of loving, with nobody to love

Nobody to, nobody

Uh huh honey….

I had always wanted a belly button piercing, but I always felt I was too heavy to get one. I mean I’ve seen many girls that were plus size with belly button piercings and they looked so good, but my dumb brain told me I’d look horrible.

When I was younger I hated my body, oftentimes I never even looked in the mirror. As I got older and put myself out there more that started to go away. And before I knew it I had loved my body. And because I was an influencer I was also able to help other people who looked just like me.

I had met Matt through Nick who swore up and down Matt and I were “destined to be”. I knew Matt was the tiniest triplet, so for a while I put off hanging out with him. Until one day I said fuck it, and here we were 2 years into a relationship.

Not once has he ever made a negative comment about my appearance, if anything he has made me love myself even more, and has even pushed me more out of my comfort zone.

Here and there their “fans” had some unkind words to say, and at times it did make me upset and had me questioning our relationship, but I snapped out of that quickly. Because Matt didn’t love me for my body, but for who I was inside. In his words I am “loving, intelligent, extremely funny, sassy and an amazing soul to be around”

So here I was sitting on my couch missing Matt as him and Chris were in Chicago for Summer Smash. I had spent the last two days with Nick and now I was home waiting three more days for my lover.

And all I kept thinking about was getting my bellybutton pierced. I knew exactly who I wanted to go to and everytime my finger lingered over the phone number I chickened out.

Nick had spent our two days hanging out convincing me I needed to get it done. He was a huge fan of me getting it done, but I was way too scared. Not from the pain, but how I’d look….

Opening the messages app I clicked on Matt’s contact

Matty 🧸

Me

Babeeeeeeeee

Matty🧸

Babeeeeeeee

What’s up??

Me

How’s your day been? I miss you😔

Matty🧸

It’s been good Chris

And I just got back from lunch

How’s your day? I miss you a lot

More👎🏽🫶🏽

Me

It’s good, I’m thinking about doing something, I need your advice. Maybe permission too?🤞🏽

Matty🧸

You never need my permission

to do anything, shoot!

Me

What if I get a belly button piercing today….

Matty🧸

I’d actually beg

On my knees for you

To do it🙏🏽

Me

Mmm maybe I will now😈

Matty🧸

Do send pics baby😫

Chris and I are about to

Head out for summer smash

I love you and I’ll talk to you

Tonight😘😘

Me

Okay my love, have fun and stay safe. Talk to you

Tonight 💕💕

For some reason this made me really want the piercing. Saying fuck it I called the shop and set up my appointment for later on in the day. I booked my appointment for 5pm since I had some errands to run today. Which was perfect because with the time difference it would be around 8-9 pm for Matt….

It was about 7pm when I finally got back to my apartment, so I knew Matt would be in their hotel room.

Standing in front of my body mirror I took a picture and sent it to him

Me

Matty🧸

Oh my fucking God-

My jaw dropped like actually

It looks so good

And you look so fucking beautiful

If Chris wasn’t in this room with me

We’d be having a special call….

I stopped to blush at his words…

Me

You’ll be home soon…and then we can take care of business….🫦🫦

After those messages all I could think about was Matt and how he’d act in person once he saw me. When they got back from Chicago he came over to my apartment.

And let’s just say he took care of business. The whole time he had us in front of the mirror as he sat and caressed my whole body, especially my stomach.

I felt sexy and loved and most importantly I felt beautiful. And he showed me how much he loved and missed me that whole night……

Who would’ve thought a body piercing could cause me to love myself even more…

The End

This was just something small and random I thought about. I lowkey want a belly button piercing as a chubby Latina girl🤌🏽 but we’ll see. Love yall dearly 🥹🖤

-J💅🏽

[enhard]

kang taehyun — “dress code”

: you went out with your friends to shop for clothes but it seems like your boyfriend can’t keep his hands to himself.

pairing: bf!k.th x fem!reader

cw: SMUT, public sex, unprotected sex, creampie, exhibition kink on his part, rough sex also , teasing, degrading kink, slut-shaming, calling you a whore all that. a bit of mirror fucking.

not proofread, enjoy!

MY FIRST TXT MEMBER FIC !!

you smile at yourself in the mirror while doing your makeup, to see how it turned out so far when you suddenly get a call from your best friend inviting you to the mall. she told you that you can bring your boyfriend too, since a few more friends and soobin, her boyfriend will be there too.

you hang up after a while of talking, but that’s when taehyun comes through the door to greet you and give you a kiss. he’s all sweaty in his tank top from the gym with his muscles flexed and chest popping out. you’re holding some heavy thoughts but.. you decide to just finish getting ready.

the words “i wish i was there with him” pop up in your mind as you hear the water streaming from the shower head. when he’s done showering, you tell him about the meet up and he agrees to go with you. —

you get to the mall, already seeing your friends waving excitedly at both of you. “heyy guys! im so happy we get to go out again.” you reply, the other girls nodding. they immediately grab you by the arms, pulling you around the mall. soobin and taehyun look at each other dumbfounded, quickly running in your girls’ direction to not get lost.

you buy a few things from different shops- well, taehyun insists on paying for you. honestly, you can’t stop thinking about him, how hot he looked when he came back from the gym. you make up a plan in your mind to tease him like bending down in front of him to pick up something you dropped (on purpose), caressing his arm up to his collarbone when you’re sitting down next to him, touching his neck each time you get the chance and so on.

he didn’t really react to it except for giving you a little laugh so you stopped eventually.

then, you entered a clothing store searching for a nice skirt. you find a potentially good one, your friends also find some clothes to try on so you go in the dressing room together. they all go to different cabins, while you make taehyun guard yours.

the dressing room is pretty small but bigger than your usual ones, has a sliding door, a big mirror and a small bench to sit on.

you take off the pants you’re wearing to try the skirt on, looking at yourself in the mirror.. just to find taehyun leaving the door half open just to look at you. “baby.. close it back up what are you doing?” “what? can’t i look at my pretty girl?” you sigh.. dragging him in too. this was his perfect plan.

“well… you can.. but then just stay in here. i don’t want anyone looking at me except you.”

taehyun smiles, slowly approaching you, making you step back until your back hits the mirror. “love, the skirt looks amazing on you but i’d rather have it off you.” you make a face in disbelief, eyeing him up and down. “what’s it to you? feeling needy already?” taehyun places one hand next to your head, almost caging you between him and the mirror. “yeah, let me fuck you right here.” his words catch you off guard, quickly putting your hand on his mouth. “are you crazy? we can’t do this here. everyone will hear us.” you whisper.

he grabs your hand that covers his mouth by the wrist, flicking it away. “then you shouldn’t have teased me all this time love. let people hear how much of a slut you are, how much you scream when it’s just the two of us.”

his demanding voice is doing something to you now. you didn’t think the teasing that happened would come back and bite you but here you are. you want him more than ever but.. there’s your friends around.. staff.. everyone.

you leave out one last sigh, looking deep into his eyes. “okay, but be quick.” those are the only words he needed, he immediately moves his hands down your body, to that skirt you were about to purchase. he takes it off you while moving his other hand to rub you through your already wet panties.

“fuck darling, you were teasing me for this reason, weren’t you?” he whispers. you look at him with doe eyes, slowly nodding. he smiles at you, rubbing you even faster. you dig your nails into his bicep, enjoying how his fingers feel on you.

he pulls your panties to the side, not caring to even take them off so he can insert his fingers inside you. quiet whimpers leave your mouth as you try to be quiet, taehyun enjoying this too much.

as much as you want him to destroy you with his fingers, you’re also aware of your surroundings. and you know it wont take long until one of your friends will check on you. so you grab his hand, pulling his hand away. “baby there’s no time for foreplay.. c’mon, fuck me already.” taehyun loves how you care so much about someone not catching you, knowing he’d pound into you even with everyone watching if he had to.

he unzips his pants, takes out his hard cock to pump it a bit. you two don’t have enough time to undress each other but how you wish you could be able to see those abs..

taehyun picks you up and lifts you with your back still hugging the mirror, holding you by the underside of your thighs. he uses his hand to pull the fabric of your panties aside again, brushing the tip of his cock against it instead. “now be quiet for me princess.” you nod, gulping at his words.

he quickly inserts his whole length inside you, giving you two seconds to adjust. he picks up a slow pace, trying to be quick while also helping you adjust. you almost squeal but you just bury your face in the crook of his neck. he makes you lift your head up again, wanting to make this harder for you.

after a bit he starts going rough. he’s pretty fast but he’s absolutely dragging his cock in and out of you not caring much about how much noise he’s making. the walls are slightly banging with each thrust of his and you begin panicking. you hold onto his shoulders tightly to try and make him slow down, but it’s like communicating to a wall.

he. does. not. stop.

it’s so hard keeping quiet now, your whole body is shaking and you’re sure atleast someone heard the obnoxious banging. “worried baby? worried that someone’s gonna catch you get fucked dumb? hm? you should’ve thought about that first you slut.” he says, grunting every few words. his words mix up in your stomach, forming so many knots about to pop. you lift his shirt up to his chest, getting a nice view of his glistening abs, a sight you could never get enough of.

you begin murmuring and cooing, not being able to talk anymore. all you can say is his name now. “t..taehyunn..plea..fuckkk tae..hyun..” he picks up his pace hearing you moan out his name quietly. “that’s right love, let me fuck you so you can only remember my name. you’re such a whore. you’re letting me fuck you so good you can’t talk anymore..” he keeps degrading you over and over while keeping his pace steady. its getting way too much for you and you’re just about to cum.

“cumming for me already? squirt on me like the slut you are. moan out my name so they know who owns you.” he says out of breath. he’s grasping your thighs even harder, chasing his own high too.

all you can do is whimper and open your mouth, nothing leaving your lips anymore. you try so hard being quiet, you would die out of embarrassment if anyone caught you right now.

since taehyun is thrusting so well, you quickly untie that knot you had in your stomach, squirting all over his cock and floor. you hug him tightly as you cum, trying not to moan out his name, just like he wished.

“pretty slut, you made a mess. look at you. let me pump my cum into you. let me fill you up so good, just how you deserve it.” you frantically nod at him, closing your eyes shut almost not being able to take it anymore.

he goes at his desired pace, fucking you into that mirror again. he grabs onto your ass, basically bouncing you on his cock. if the banging wasnt enough, now it was hard covering up the sound of your thighs clapping against each other. only the voices of the people around could save you now.

you feel him twitching inside you, getting ready to cum. he thrusts into you a few more times before letting his cum shoot inside you. he bites your neck as he’s cumming, teasing you even more than needed.

he finally pulls out, both of you quietly panting your lungs away.. he gives you a kiss then immediately starts cleaning up. luckily you had some tissues in your bag so he’s able to clean everything off him and the floor, then letting his cum drip out of you onto another tissue. he cleans you both well, fixing your hair trying to be all innocent.

you grab your things and he gives you a kiss on your forehead before getting out the dressing room, seeing the others all looking towards your direction. from their faces you could tell that they knew exactly what you two were up to.

you were about to cry right there but taehyun seemed a little too proud of himself.

your friends brush it off, mainly because of taehyun’s huge ego.. and you agree to never talk about this again.

you can’t say that you didn’t enjoy it though. the thrill of getting caught made you want to do this again, and his excitement spoke for it alone.

afterall, you were his slut.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

After So Long

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.7k

Warnings: angst

Summary: You're forced to go back to the one place you tried to hard to get away from. You're forced to contront the memories you left behind.

Between Love and Hate Masterlist

Squares Filled: protection (2023) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Then

It seemed like wherever Bucky went, Steve and Sam followed. You thought it’d be nice to go shopping at your local mall with Bucky since he’d been so busy with work. You put on something cute to wear and did your hair only to feel like you’re being followed the whole time. You tried to ignore them but it was hard when you saw their black clothes in every corner.

“Does this look cute?” you asked and held up a shirt.

“On me or you?” Bucky joked.

“Ha-ha, very funny. Wait, it might look good on you.”

Bucky smiled and took the shirt while you moved to a different section of the store, the dresses. He didn’t mind holding the things you wanted to get. He’d do it forever if he knew this made you happy. It does. You liked shopping. Just not with grown men following you.

“Do they have to be here?” you sighed as you looked at the dresses.

“It’s a precaution, pisică.”

You liked the little nicknames he gave you, especially in his native tongue, Romanian.

“Because of your job?” Bucky nodded. “When are you gonna tell me what you do?”

“I’d rather stay in our little bubble a little while longer, if possible.”

“Fine, but you will have to tell me eventually.” Bucky didn’t respond to that. Once you were done with the dresses, you moved to the jewelry section. The prices in this store were outrageous and you turned to Bucky with a frown. “Are you sure we should keep shopping here? I’ve already spent enough of your money.”

“Pisică, I make more money in an hour than the one hundred grand you’re going to spend.”

“You’re spoiling me,” you grinned.

Bucky pulled you into him and placed his hands on your ass, not caring if anyone saw.

“You’re my girl. Of course, I will.”

He leaned down and kissed you and your heart swelled in happiness.

Now

You always knew Bucky would find you but you didn’t know when or where it’d happen. He truly didn’t know where you were for the first six months you were gone. After you enrolled in college, he found you. In order to apply for it, you had to use your real name which Sam caught when he was looking for you online.

Despite what you may think of him, he really does love you. He just has a weird way of showing it.

Bucky has left his men behind where you crashed your car at while his driver takes you to one of his mansions. You’ve been to almost all of them because he used to take you all around the country for the hell of it. You have a room in every single one of them.

“Pisică--”

“Don’t call me that,” you snap and look at him.

“It took a long time to find you. I thought you had dropped off the face of the Earth.”

“Bite me.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he smirks. He loses it when he thinks about what to ask next. “Why did you run?”

You look at him with wide eyes and a parted mouth. “Did you really just ask me that? You’re a murderer.”

“Well, that depends on how to look at it.”

“There’s no looking at it differently. You kill people. That’s murder.”

Bucky decides to change the topic because he’s not gonna get far with you accusing him of things he’s done.

“Remember how we met?” It’s incredible how this man can jump from one topic to the next. “I do. I even remember the kiss we shared. Care to hear it from my perspective?”

“Not really?”

He tells you the story anyway as if you weren't there to begin with.

Bucky met up with several potential business partners that he thought would benefit him and his company. He’s one of the biggest mafia bosses this country has ever seen and having allies is much better than having enemies. He controls the weapons market, the communication sector, and most of the casinos across the country. These men would give him access to most of the drug trading posts if they’d only get their heads out of their asses and agree to his terms.

He doesn’t let the storm outside prevent him from doing business which is why he took this little meeting to one of the most expensive and high-end restaurants in town. The owner knows him and always gives him a good deal.

“Ma’am! You can’t just run in here!”

Bucky looks up and locks eyes with the most gorgeous woman he has ever seen before. Granted, she’s soaking wet from the rain outside. She looks fearful as if she’s running from someone. For some reason, Bucky would kill anyone who ever made her feel unsafe, and he doesn’t even know her.

She looks back outside and runs further into the restaurant, ignoring the calls from the hostess. She runs right over to him and interrupts the meeting he carefully set up without a care in the world. There’s panic in her eyes. She’s afraid. If only she knew who he was.

“I’m so sorry. Please play along.”

A man comes into the restaurant just as soaked as she is but Bucky doesn’t have time to react. She sits on his lap and kisses him desperately. He wraps an arm around her waist to keep her from falling off his lap and kisses her back. She is getting his nice suit wet but he doesn’t care. This kiss not only screams ‘I’m desperate’ but it screams ‘I need help’. The men Bucky is with chuckle but he tunes them out.

“Sir!”

Bucky can only assume the man had left the restaurant. His mysterious lover tries to pull away from him but he pulls her in closer and continues to kiss her. Only when he is satisfied does he finally let her go. She turns to check that the man isn’t there anymore and visually relaxes.

“I am so sorry.”

“Ex-boyfriend?”

“Yeah. He wouldn’t let me leave and I only managed to get away from him.” something comes over her face and she backs away in embarrassment. “God, that was so rude of me. I don’t know you. Thank you for that. Again, I’m really sorry I interrupted your dinner.”

She leaves the table and checks to make sure her ex isn’t outside looking for her. Once she feels she’s safe, she runs back outside into the pouring rain. Bucky clears his throat and takes out his phone so he can call one of his trusted men. He has Sam working on something in another state so Steve is who he calls.

“Boss?”

“Did you see her run out?”

“Yes.”

“Follow her. Find out about the boyfriend.”

“Yes, sir.”

Bucky gets off the phone and returns to his meeting like nothing happened.

“You came in there dripping wet. You came over to me and kissed me. Do you remember that kiss? How desperate you were for it?” During his storytelling, Bucky pulled you closer to him and slid his hand in your hair. His hand is so big that he can cup the side of your head and still run his thumb over your bottom lip. “Do you remember the taste of my lips on yours?”

“I will never kiss you again much less do anything more than that.”

You push him away and he smirks in amusement. He keeps his hands to himself for the rest of the ride. His mansion is like the one in New York just with more acres. He has the ultimate dream house fit with anything you can think of. Pools, spas, theaters, sports courts, and a ton more.

You dread coming back here not because it reminds you of Bucky but because it reminds you of the good times you had with him. The times from before you knew what he did for work.

You’re escorted inside his mansion and taken to a room with Steve. It’s like you’re being placed on time out because Steve stands by the door as if he isn’t allowed to let you leave.

“Ai grijă la ea, e foarte drăguță, dar e o fire plină de luptă. Ea nu iese din casă.”

Watch out for her, she’s real pretty but she’s a feisty one. She doesn’t leave the house.

Bucky keeps eye contact with you the whole time before leaving the room. Your blood boils.

“Ești un laș care se ascunde în spatele unei armate de oameni!”

You’re a coward who hides behind an army of men!

Bucky doesn’t bat an eye at your words. He’s the one who taught you Romanian, now you’re using it against him.

“I’m leaving,” you say to Steve and storm to the door.

Steve lets you out of the room knowing there are guards posted at every door to prevent you from leaving the mansion. Sam stands at the front door so he must be done cleaning the crash of your car. 

“Sorry, you can’t leave. Bosses’ order,” Sam says and stops you from leaving.

Instead of standing here arguing with him, you figured you get this over with. Your room hasn’t been touched since you left, and you can only assume your other rooms in the other mansions haven’t been touched either. This room is filled with so many good memories of you and Bucky. You hate that you’re looking at them now with such disdain.

Bucky was never one for pictures so the ones he did take were inappropriate to post anywhere. He thought it was funny to print them out and frame them for your room to always remind you who you belong to. Maybe you still do. Maybe you don’t. You’re not sure of how you feel anymore.

It hurts to look at them because you still love him. You’re so damn in love with him and it hurts because you thought you’d never love a murderer.

Bucky returns to the house hours later, well into the night. He finds you asleep in your own bed with dried tears on your cheeks. He looks at the pictures on the dresser and yanks his tie off angrily. He makes sure to be quiet as he walks over to you.

“I love you so much,” he whispers.

He kisses your forehead before leaving your room. God, he wishes things were different. He hates seeing you in pain.

x

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