#so i just have to be patient and trust that
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fishnapple · 3 days ago
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How do they love you? How does their love feel like?
(Future spouse/partner/lover)
This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.
Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐
About me | Masterpost Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)
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CUBE 1
There's always something to look forward to when you're with them. Life never stands still for the two of you, no, it doesn't mean your life together will be hectic and full of fast movement. On the contrary, they will take things slow with you, but you're always sure of their attention and how they see a future for the two of you. They will be very protective of that future, almost stubbornly so. You will hear them talk often about plans, they will ask you how you want to go at things, what's your comfortable pace, what do you hope for the future, what do you expect of them, of the relationship, they will also frequently joke or talk seriously about the vision of a retirement life together with you. There's just this sureness about the future with them, also hope and excitement.
But they also like to reminisce about your memories together. They probably will like to take a lot of photo with you, just daily activities, small beauty around you, and then like to spend some nights, sitting comfortably on the couch with you, warm blanket wrapping around you two, flipping through the physical photo album or the one in their phone. They like to remind you of your many "first" memories together. How you first met, how you first confess, your first kiss, the first sunset watched together. Things like that. They will also like to tease you about it but also want to recreate that memory again someday.
They might have to travel a lot for their work, and overseas trips can be frequent. You will sometimes feel that your house lack a little warmth of their presence. But when they're with you, they will make it up to you when they're home, by staying home with you lazily, just the two of you relaxing together, enjoying simple moments. But they will surprise you now and then with romantic dates, travelling to some far away lands for some changes of scenery. You once said to them absentmindedly how you wish to do something, go somewhere? They will make that happen for you, unexpectedly, they like surprise gifts. These instances are when you can feel their playfulness the most visibly.
Other times, they will remain a practical and dependable person. They will make sure that you feel safe in the relationship. So they tend to hide a lot of their worries and doubts. If they're quiet or not communicative, it's likely that they're worrying about something. If you ask them what's wrong, they probably will brush it off and assure you that nothing is wrong. Just let them be for a while to collect their thoughts. They will come around and discuss it with you, with a clearer mind and trust.
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CUBE 2
They will be a tease alright. You might sometimes be puzzled by their behaviour, are they just a bully, or are they being playful? This person has two sides to them, I think it's likely due to their upbringing or their environment that requires them to be accommodating and mild manner. Strangers, acquaintances, or even those who work closely with them will find them very charming, patient, and hard working. But when it comes to the person they love romantically, it's like something switched up inside them. They can act a little childish,snarky, and passionate around you, poking you here and there just to get a reaction. They love playing pranks on their lover. But not to the point of angering you or in a mean spirit way. For all their jokes and pranks, they do fulfil your desire for a perfect partner and also a friend. I think the way they act playfully like that is to match your energy. Whatever they do, they do it in consideration of you, so they never take the teasing too far, just enough to rile you up a little.
They like to ask your opinions on everything, purposefully create a debate with you, even when you share a similar viewpoint. They want to include you in every decision that they make, always a team, especially when the future of the relationship is concerned. If you have any dilemmas, they will always be there to help solve them with you.
You guys might be the couple that giggle with each other in public, sharing inside jokes and exchanging looks across the crowd. They would love to lean in and whisper to your ear. Their display of affection in public can be restrained and moderate, nothing offensive to the eyes of lonely hearts around you guys. But in general, they prefer to stay at home with you rather than go to a public place. Almost like being secluded with you, muting out all the noises outside. It's because they work a lot, they can be too absorbed in their work and spend many hours working. So when they can get off working, they want to relax with you. Your home together will be like a sanctuary to them.
They can act like a fixer sometimes, always eager to solve your problems for you. If you have some bad habits, they will push you to get rid of them, sometimes it can feel heavy-handed. But usually, the way they do it is sincere and charming enough for you to listen to them without resistance. One of their habits that you might be a little worried about is their spending habit, they have a loose attitude towards money, spending on whims. If they see something they fancy, they will not just buy it for themselves but for you too, they love matchy-matchy. Luckily, they don't act like that towards just everyone, only to the person closest to them.
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CUBE 3
Your domestic life with this person will be so peaceful and fun. They just give a very stable and dependable energy without being rigid or overbearing. You will feel spoiled by them a lot. They will put you on top priority, trying to make life easier for you in every aspect. From small daily chore to important decisions like moving home or changing jobs, they want to be there for you and support you in everything. This person likes to share the workload with you, there's just no definite role in your relationship where one person is the bread winner while the other is the one who takes care of the house. Your relationship will be balanced, if one person is working, the other will do the housework, and vice versa. But they're especially proactive in making the mundane details comfortable for you, I think they're someone who enjoys doing chores around the house and taking care of their person. They like to iron your clothes for you, preparing meals, cleaning the house while you lay there relaxing.
But in that scenario where they're cleaning the house and you're relaxing, they'd like that moment to be when you guys can have some fun banter together. There's maybe a sense of duty when they're doing the work, but it's actually because they enjoy these small peaceful moments with you. They like to joke and tease you a lot. Talking with them will feel so easy and free flowing, you guys will never run out the things to talk about. Reminds me of birds chirping together on a branch in springtime. But they can also dive deep with more serious topics. The things they say are never superficial and shallow. What they say is what they do and what they think deeply about. They probably won't say something if they're not sure of it. You will feel like their words are the most dependable pillars. They're also very strategic, taking care steps in whatever plan they're executing, appraising the progress, and making adjustments when necessary. So life with them will feel like a sturdy ship that can weather any storms and still sail to the bright horizon ahead.
They have a strange blend of tenderness and passion. You won't have to doubt their desire for you, they'll be just very straightforward with you. But they're creative and flexible in their display of affection and they know various techniques to melt your heart. One moment they may act like an excited child asking their playmate to hang out with them. Other times, they act all assertive and self-assured that you feel like there's no one sexier. Another time, they will be silent and attentive, listen to your every dark thoughts that are clouding your mind. You will believe that as long as you're with them, nothing can hurt you, that you can relax and just be cosy in their arms, even when the world is cold and dangerous outside.
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CUBE 4
This person could have some deep wounds that they hold in their heart for a long time. These wounds made them become cautious and value their independence a lot. They're not willing to sacrifice their personal values and autonomy for just anyone. So you might have a hard time getting closer to them in the beginning. The frustrating thing is, they're very charming as a person, they can say all the right words that can melt your heart in no time, they're a great conversationalist and a visionary, but only as an individual, in relationship, the more messy and problematic side will rear its head and make itself known. There's a very strong mental energy here. If you're the kind of person who values mental connection above all else and tends to lean on the logical side of thinking, you might not see much problem with them, for they can be a satisfying mental opponent for you. But if you're more sensitive and seek an emotional connection, both of you will have to compromise a lot to make it work.
You could feel that sometimes, their approach to the relationship with you and life in general can be aggressive or pushy. They like to take control of the situation and take charge of everything, including the small details of your life together. They want to do everything on their own, not exactly because they don't want you to lift a finger, but more because of the desire to take everything into their own hands, for efficiency. You will never have to doubt if they pay enough attention to you or not, sometimes, you might even wish that they don't give you so much attention, because it can feel a little antagonistic at times.
Communication is very important in your relationship. With your honest and straightforward feedback, they will slowly curb their impulsive tendency and be more gentle with you. The relationship with you will change their mindset a lot. They could be more high-strung and anxious in the past, but they will learn to relax more and be more appreciative of peace in the relationship. When they're relaxed and trust you more, they can be touchingly tender and romantic with their words. They probably like to go on many trips together with you, exploring the world around. You will feel that other people won't be able to understand the dynamic of your relationship and the unique experiences you share together. So you won't feel the need to compare your relationship with other people's, sure there are problems, but you wouldn't trade it for any other kinds. There's a strong element of getting out of the storm together, seeing each other's dark side and helping each other see the light.
They have a hidden passionate and wild side that's sleeping underneath layers of caution and anxiety. Their display of physical affection can be subdued and not too spontaneous, especially in the presence of other people. But they tend to talk or boast about you a lot in your absence. They will feel like loving you is their biggest victory, victory over their own limitations and fears. And they like to express that sense of pride with people, especially their friends.
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urlocalmultigroupfan · 2 days ago
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valentines....
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pairing: channie x fem!reader
summary: spending a tooth-rotting valentines with your (new) sweet boyfriend <3
tags/warnings: none! just pure fluff <3 (plus first ily!)
a/n: happy valentines day! i am aware that this was posted later <3 i've been so busy all week with doctors appointments! thanks for being patient hehe <3 i decided to do channie since a lot of ppl think that chan is the most romantic so i thought it was cute <3 also not sure if im going to be taking the hiatus anymore honestly lmao. hope yall enjoy!! (sorry if this sucks i don't usually do fluff lmao)
masterlist
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The snow had been falling lightly all day, turning the world outside into a soft, white wonderland. You stood by the window, watching the tiny flakes dance in the air before gently settling on the ground. It was Valentine’s Day, and though the world around you felt quiet and still, your heart was anything but. You had no idea what to expect, but there was one person who made every day feel special.
Chan.
Your heart fluttered at the thought of him. He was always thoughtful, but on days like today, he seemed to go above and beyond.
You heard the door creak open behind you, and there was no mistaking the sound of his voice.
“Hey, y/n! Look what I brought.”
Turning around, your eyes immediately found him, standing there with a shy smile, holding a bag filled with what you could only assume was a Valentine’s Day surprise. The sight of him—his dark hair slightly messy from the cold, cheeks flushed from the chilly air—made your heart skip a beat.
“What did you get me?” you teased, walking toward him, your breath fogging up in the cool air.
“Not telling,” he replied, grinning widely. “But first, you have to come outside with me.”
“Outside? In the snow?” You raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to freeze me?”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while. Please?”
You hesitated for a moment before nodding, curiosity taking over. If there was one thing you could always count on, it was that Chan would never do anything without a reason, and you knew he had something special planned.
You grabbed your coat and scarf, following him outside. The air was crisp, the snow crunching underfoot as you stepped onto the front porch. Chan turned to face you, his expression softening, and there was something about the way he looked at you that made your heart swell.
“You trust me, right?” he asked, his voice a little quieter now.
“Of course,” you replied without hesitation, giving him a reassuring smile.
“Good,” he said. Without another word, he crouched down, offering his back. “Hop on.”
Your eyes widened in surprise. “What? Chan, we’re in the snow!”
He just grinned. “You’ll see. Trust me.”
You hesitated only for a moment before climbing onto his back, feeling the warmth of his body as he stood up, carrying you effortlessly through the thickening snow. You held onto him tightly, your face buried in his jacket as you tried to stifle a laugh at how ridiculous and sweet this all felt.
“I didn’t expect a piggyback ride on Valentine’s Day,” you said, your voice muffled against him.
“I’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy,” he replied softly.
You could hear the sincerity in his voice, and it made your heart race. It wasn’t just about the big gestures—though the snow and the piggyback ride definitely counted as something big—it was about the way he made you feel every single day. Like you were the most important person in his world.
As he carried you through the snow, you both laughed and talked, forgetting for a moment about the world around you, lost in the moment.
Eventually, you reached a small bench that overlooked the snowy landscape. He gently sat you down, still holding you close, and you both stared at the horizon where the sky was painted in shades of pink and orange, the setting sun reflecting off the snow.
There was a peacefulness in the moment, a calm that made everything feel right. You didn’t need anything more. You had everything you needed right there.
Chan turned to you, his expression softening even further. “Y/n, I need to tell you something.”
You tilted your head, looking into his eyes. “What is it?”
“I’ve been wanting to say this for a while, but today feels like the perfect day…” He took a deep breath, his hand gently cupping your face. “I love you.”
Your heart skipped a beat at the sincerity in his voice, and you felt the heat rise to your cheeks. There was nothing else you could say except, “I love you too, Chan.”
He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Y/n. You make everything better.”
And in that moment, with the snow falling softly around you both and Chan’s warmth surrounding you, it truly felt like the best Valentine’s Day you’d ever had.
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hope yall enjoyed <3
today's writing playlist....
case 143 by stray kids, heyday by 3racha, polaroid love by enhypen, bite me by enhypen, 3racha, happily ever after by txt, blue hour by txt, heaven by txt, do it like that by txt, maniac by viviz, earth, wind & fire by boynextdoor, know your worth by khalid, killer queen by mad tsai
my playlist
taglist: @rockstarkkami @sirloncelot-of-bananas
taglist is open! please comment if you would like to be added <3
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claramelooo · 1 day ago
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WOVEN FATES (5/???)
Happy Valentine, babes!! (1 day late, but that's okay)
I hope my valentines like the gift 💕
Enjoy it! <3
MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT
Pairing: AgathaRio X Fem Reader
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Summary: You think you're independent, but Agatha disagrees.
Hey! Now I've a masterlist.
Domain
The filming of Agatha's new movie was everything you expected and, at the same time, so much more. The set was an organized chaos: people running back and forth, lights being adjusted, voices blending into a sea of commands. You had never worked so hard in your life, and yet, it felt like you were never doing enough.
Agatha was a force of nature on set. Harsh, demanding, relentless. Every detail mattered, every movement was rehearsed to exhaustion, and her voice cut through the air like a blade when something was out of place. Despite the frantic pace, you couldn’t help but admire how she seemed to have absolute control over everything around her.
A few days had passed since you moved into their house, and in that time, the world you once knew felt like it had completely changed. The house, once strange and imposing, now carried a warmth you had never felt anywhere else.
Mornings were peaceful, marked by the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the subtle voices echoing through the hallways. But there was something more—something that made your heart race: Rio and Agatha’s attempts at touch. They were light at first, almost innocent, but they were becoming constant, and that terrified you. Not because they were invasive, but because you were becoming greedy.
It was a silent, almost shameful desire.
You wanted more.
More of the warmth of Rio’s fingers grazing your skin as she handed you a cup of tea. More of the way Agatha slightly tilted her head while watching you, as if she already knew exactly what you were feeling. More of the security that came with being there, wrapped in the space they offered you.
That feeling of belonging seemed too new and fragile, as if it could disappear at any moment. And maybe that was what made you crave it so desperately—the fear that if you didn’t hold on tightly enough, it would all slip through your fingers.
They always seemed to need you close. Dinners were long, filled with conversations you sometimes didn’t even know how to participate in, but somehow, you were never left out. Rio smiled in a way that sent shivers down your spine, and Agatha always knew when your mind wandered to places you didn’t dare admit. They were patient, but you saw the anticipation in their eyes, the thread of tension in their unspoken words.
And the nights… the nights were different.
They didn’t sleep as deeply as you imagined. Agatha, especially, was silent but watchful. She told herself there was only one reason for it: to make sure you weren’t overworking yourself, that nothing disrupted the delicate balance you brought into that house. That justification was enough to silence the more uncomfortable questions in her mind.
But in the past few nights, as she watched you sleep, something was changing.
Agatha sat in the armchair in the corner of the room, her hands resting on her lap, but her eyes fixed on you. Your face was serene as you slept, and the way you looked so small and vulnerable in bed made something unsettling stir in her chest.
There was something about the way your hair fell on the pillow, the way your breathing was so soft, the way you looked… beautiful. Not just physically, but in a way Agatha couldn’t define. It was an all-encompassing beauty, something that went beyond appearance. Something rooted in your sweetness, in the way you tried to please, even when you were so scared.
And that was what disturbed her the most. You were sweet, so incredibly sweet, and at the same time, so shy—so eager to do what was asked. Not out of fear, but because you wanted to trust, you wanted to be seen.
And Agatha was seeing it. She was seeing how, little by little, you were beginning to trust her and Rio. You were no longer as hesitant with their touches, even if you still blushed every time they teased you. You were starting to open small windows into your personality, tiny glimpses of courage and vulnerability that seemed tailor-made to break through their defenses.
But one night, a storm raged outside, thunder rolling across the sky as if summoned by something deep and wild. The rain pounded against the windows, casting dancing shadows across the room in the flickering lightning. You were lost in your dream, but to you, it was more than just a dream; it was an echo of something old, a trauma that had never truly healed.
In the dream, you were standing in an empty, gray field, the ground beneath your feet dissolving into nothingness. And then you saw her. Your mother. But she had her back to you, her figure shrouded in a pale light that made it impossible to see her face.
"Mom?" Your voice came out hesitant, like a child just learning to speak. You took a step toward her, but it felt like the closer you got, the farther away she became. "Mom, please, don’t go..."
She didn’t respond. She didn’t turn to you. She just kept walking.
"Please, don’t leave me! I need you!" You cried out, your voice rising in desperation. Tears burned your eyes as you ran, trying to reach her, but every step was harder than the last. It was as if the ground was crumbling beneath you, and with each movement, you sank deeper into the darkness.
"Mom! Please!" You fell to your knees, arms outstretched toward her. She stopped for a brief moment, and you held your breath. Maybe she would look back. Maybe…
But no. Without turning, she took another step and disappeared, dissolving into the void.
You fell. Literally fell, as if the ground had split open beneath you. The wind roared in your ears, the world around you becoming a mass of darkness. And as you plummeted, your voice broke into a desperate scream: "Mommy!"
But just when it seemed like nothing would catch you, that you were destined to be swallowed by the void, you felt something. A warm touch. Firm hands.
You opened your eyes, gasping, tears streaming down your face. You were no longer in the void—you were in your bed. A soft, delicate hand stroked your hair, while a soothing voice whispered, "We’re here..."
It was Rio. Her voice was low, almost a lullaby, and for the first time, you realized how she could seem incredibly strong and gentle at the same time.
"Shh… you’re okay," Rio continued, pulling you lightly into her arms. You clung to her without thinking, as if she was the only thing anchoring you in that moment.
But it wasn’t just Rio. When you lifted your gaze, you saw Agatha sitting at the edge of the bed. Her face was dark with thought, her eyes fixed on you with an intensity you had never seen before.
"You’re safe," Agatha said, her voice low and steady, but there was something more there—something she didn’t let slip easily.
You sobbed, trying to speak, but the words caught in your throat. Agatha hesitated, but slowly, she reached out to touch your tear-streaked face, wiping your tears away with her thumb. It was such a simple gesture, yet so heavy with something you couldn’t quite define.
She should be thinking about your energy, about keeping you stable, about preserving it. At least, that’s what she told herself. But at that moment, with you so fragile before her, your wide eyes filled with fear and your body trembling in Rio’s arms, something inside Agatha shifted.
It was more than just your energy.
More than any convenient justification.
It was you.
It was the way you looked so... theirs. As if you had always belonged there, even if neither of them had the courage to admit it yet.
Agatha didn’t pull away. Instead, she let her hand linger on your face for just a moment longer, while Rio continued whispering soft words in your ear, holding you as if she would never let you fall again.
And then, right there, you knew.
You knew that this was your place.
In the arms of two women old enough to be your mother.
Maybe Freud would have something to say about it—probably an entire book. But, frankly, it didn’t matter. Not in that instant, as Rio’s familiar scent and Agatha’s hesitant touch surrounded you. No psychoanalytic theory would make sense.
The only thing that mattered was the fact that you didn’t want to leave.
Ever.
[...]
The sun scorched the set, and you were beginning to feel more comfortable with the frantic pace of filming. People talked, laughed, and made jokes, and in a way, you finally felt like part of something. But even in the middle of the chaos, you knew Agatha was watching.
Always watching.
She never made a point of hiding it completely, but she also never showed anything that could be interpreted as favoritism. To everyone there, you were just another production assistant. Just another person trying to please the brilliant and ruthless director.
"Good job, everyone! Lunch break," Agatha’s voice cut through the air, firm and authoritative. For a moment, her blue eyes met yours, but she quickly turned away, already shifting her attention to something else.
It was now or never. As everyone headed to the makeshift cafeteria, you grabbed your backpack and started walking away, feeling your heart race.
"Where are you going?" Yelena asked, crossing her arms as she watched you with curiosity.
"I have something to take care of. I’ll be back before the break is over."
She looked at you suspiciously but shrugged. Before she could say anything else, you were already leaving.
The truth was, ever since you moved in with them, your life had stopped being entirely your own. It wasn’t something spoken in words but felt in every glance, in every careful gesture that seemed to carry more weight than it should.
Agatha drove you to college every morning, always with that heavy silence, but never without adjusting your seatbelt over your lap first, as if making sure you’d be safe. And in the afternoon, Rio was already waiting at the gate, the car engine running, a brief smile on her face, but her eyes scanning everything around, as if expecting something to hurt you at any moment.
Visiting your brother felt impossible. Every time you mentioned it, an excuse came, almost effortless but full of intention. “Maybe after the shoot. It’s better this way, you need to rest.” Or, “We can look into that together this weekend.” And before you knew it, time had passed, and the subject had been brushed aside like dust swept under a rug.
But it wasn’t just that. They were in you, in every thought you had, in every decision you tried to make. It was as if your own will was slowly being erased, diluted into their desire to keep you there, under control, as if leaving was a threat they couldn’t bear. And somehow, part of you no longer knew what you wanted.
When you arrived, the sight nearly knocked you off your feet.
Your brothers were there. All of them. And, to your greater shock, so was your father.
You stood frozen at the entrance for a few seconds, unable to believe what you were seeing.
"What... what is this?" You murmured, your voice low and filled with disbelief.
"Well, well, look who decided to show up!" One of your brothers said, a mocking smile on his lips. "Madam finally stepped out of her castle to visit us mere mortals?"
You frowned, trying to stay calm.
"What are you all doing here? You don’t even live in this state!"
Your father, who was seated at the table, slowly stood up, his eyes as hard as ever. "We are where we need to be. Unlike you, who walks around thinking you’re better than everyone else."
His words hit you like a punch. You took a deep breath, trying to stay in control.
"I just came to see Josh. I thought he was... alone."
Your voice came out colder than you intended, and that made your father’s face harden even more.
"I thought I had given you clear instructions," your father said, pinching the bridge of his nose as if restraining himself. "You were supposed to watch him, put him back on track."
You scoffed, incredulous. Fuck this shit.
"Josh is a grown man. He can make his own decisions, I can assure you of that."
"Decisions?!" He sneered. "That’s deviance!"
The air in the room felt heavier, denser, suffocating. Your father stood there with that same expression as always—full of empty authority, a man who believed his voice was law.
"If only he had someone to guide him... someone with common sense," he said, as if discussing the weather, as if he wasn’t spewing venom against his own son.
Your chest rose and fell rapidly. You felt your heart pounding in your chest, your vision sharpening—like your body knew it was time to fight.
And the sight of Josh, with his face still bruised—some of the marks already fading—and his eyes screaming shame, filled your chest with something painted red.
"Oh, I see," you said, letting out a dry laugh, crossing your arms. "Because following your example would be just great, right? Spending a lifetime playing the tough guy, pretending you have everything under control while destroying everyone around you."
His face hardened. "Watch your mouth."
"Watch my mouth?! Watch my mouth, Dad?! You destroyed this family! You pushed everyone away with your fucking superiority complex! Mom, me, and now Josh. He doesn’t need guidance, he doesn’t need correction, and he sure as hell doesn’t need you! You know what he needs? Someone who loves him for who he is. Something you were never capable of doing!"
The silence in the room was deafening. Your brothers were paralyzed, shocked by your boldness.
Your father was a serious man, a strategist, a relentless worker who worked hard to build the image of the perfect patriarch. They had never heard him yell, never seen him lose control—because control was everything to him. Control over the house. Control over the children. Control over the wife.
Until the wife, who was supposed to serve and submit, disappeared.
You laughed, a dry, bitter sound.
"You never knew your place!" your father shouted, taking a step forward. "You think you’re special? That you can turn your back on your family and it’s all fine? You always thought you were better than us. But you know what you are? A whore, just like your mother!"
His words burned like acid, touching a raw nerve inside you.
"Funny, isn’t it? You, all this time, trying to force us into a mold, shoving your worldview down our throats like it was the only possible one. Like it was sacred. Like it was some fucking religion."
You took a step forward, your voice dripping with venomous irony.
"But you know what makes you and God so... alike?"
He didn’t answer. His jaw was clenched, his eyes burning with hatred.
"Even He couldn’t keep His woman in paradise."
The slap echoed through the house. Your head snapped to the side from the force of the blow, and the taste of blood flooded your mouth. A searing heat spread across your face, but you didn’t back down. You didn’t lower your head.
Your body trembled with adrenaline, your eyes filled with tears, but you refused to cry in front of them. Not here.
Josh was quick. With a firm hand, he grabbed your arm and pulled you back, placing himself between you and your father.
"Enough." His voice was tense but controlled. "You’ve done enough damage," he said to the man, trying not to show fear.
Your face burned, the metallic taste of blood mixing with the humiliation boiling inside you. Your siblings remained frozen, as if the room had been sealed inside an unbearable bubble of tension.
You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. Your hands were still shaking as you pulled it out, trying to take a deep breath, trying to keep your composure. When you saw Agatha’s name glowing on the screen, something inside you cracked.
You walked to your old bedroom to answer.
"Hey?" You picked up, trying to sound normal, but your voice came out thick with emotion.
On the other end, the silence lasted only a second before her voice cut through like a blade. "Where are you?"
Your heart pounded. It was impossible to hide that something was wrong.
"I... I’m… it’s fine. I just had to take care of something."
"Take care of telling me where you are. Now." Her tone was low and controlled but laced with something dangerous.
You hesitated, feeling your throat close up. But there was no lying. Not to her.
You finally murmured the address, almost inaudible.
"Wait there. Do not leave."
Before you could respond, she hung up. Your chest tightened even more when the next message arrived.
My driver is on the way. Don’t you dare move.
You put the phone away and looked at your family, your face still burning from the slap. They laughed, exchanging glances as if they had won. But for the first time, you felt something different.
There was someone who cared. Someone watching over you. And somehow, that made everything feel a little less unbearable.
You took a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears, seeing Josh approach. "Hey…" He lightly tapped your knee, making you look up.
Josh studied you with concern, his eyes focused on the cut on your lip but not wanting to pressure you. You ran your tongue over the wound, tasting the metallic tang of blood still lingering.
"Are you okay?" He asked softly.
You let out a humorless laugh. "Okay is a strong word."
Josh sighed and shook his head. "I should’ve protected you better."
"You’ve done more than enough, Josh," you replied, your voice softer now. "But… I need to tell you something."
He frowned. "What?"
You hesitated, hating to say it at that moment. But he needed to know.
"The building… It’s going to be demolished. You have to leave."
His face twisted in surprise, then into something close to resignation. But then, to your surprise, a small smile appeared on his lips.
"Then I guess it’s perfect timing," he said with a shrug. "The gallery lady… She gave me the job. As a security guard."
Your heart clenched, but this time in a good way. Rio had actually done what you asked—she cared. You couldn’t hold back a smile, even with the pain in your face.
"Josh… that’s amazing!" You jumped up, wrapping him in a tight hug. He returned it immediately, holding onto you as if he knew how much you both needed that moment.
"We’re going to get out of this, okay?" He murmured. "One way or another."
Before you could respond, three firm knocks echoed against the door. Josh pulled away first, looking toward the sound. You took a deep breath, feeling your chest tighten.
"That must be the driver," you said, adjusting your clothes.
Josh raised an eyebrow. "Driver?"
"Long story."
You got up and walked to the door. On the other side, Ralph stood, impeccable as always, with his rigid posture and sharp gaze.
"Miss," he greeted with a slight nod. "Mrs. Harkness requested that I take you immediately."
You cast one last glance at Josh before turning back to Ralph.
"Let’s go."
The ride to the studio was silent. Ralph drove with mechanical precision while you stared out the window at the city passing by, trying to organize your thoughts. But your mind was still stuck in that house, on your father, on the taste of blood in your mouth, on the look in Josh’s eyes when you told him he had to leave.
When the car finally stopped in front of the set, you took a deep breath before stepping out. The warmth of the early afternoon sun hit your already heated skin, but it didn’t help soothe the knot in your throat. You adjusted your clothes instinctively, as if that could prevent people from noticing the chaos inside you.
The set was bustling as usual, with bright lights, cameras in position, and the crew moving back and forth. But your attention was immediately drawn to one single figure.
Agatha.
She stood there, statue-like, arms crossed, back to the crew, her posture firm and impenetrable. One hand held a radio, fingers idly sliding over its edge as she pressed it against her chin, seemingly lost in thought. But you knew.
She wasn’t distracted.
She was waiting.
And then, her eyes landed on you.
It was like an electric wire snapping in the air.
Agatha’s gaze swept over your face in a clinical examination, her attention locking onto every detail. The tension in your shoulders, the way you kept your head slightly lowered, the tightness in your lips. And then, the inevitable—the cut.
Her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, a dark shadow passing through her expression. But it was quick, a flash that disappeared as swiftly as it appeared. Any trace of reaction was carefully erased before anyone else could notice.
"The break’s over!"
Her voice sliced through the air with blade-like precision. Firm, unwavering. As if nothing had happened. As if she hadn’t just looked at you and understood everything in a single second.
But you knew Agatha never forgot.
She never forgot.
And as you walked past her quickly, without looking up, something inside her cracked—a feeling she couldn’t name or push away. She turned slightly, watching you disappear into the crew.
The day went on, but you felt crushed by an invisible weight. Your swollen face and the cut on your lip still throbbed lightly, a reminder of what had happened. You tried to focus on work, carrying costumes back and forth, trying to lose yourself in the tasks to push the thoughts away.
You were carrying a long, elegant dress to Wanda Maximoff, one of the most recognized and beloved actresses in the industry. Everyone on set seemed to orbit around her—not just because she was stunning, but because her reputation as sweet and kind made her everyone’s favorite. She was always a delight in interviews, full of smiles and words of support for her colleagues. The kind of person the media described as flawless.
But with you, things were… different.
As you approached, Wanda turned to you, her eyes gleaming as if she had detected something from afar. For a moment, you hesitated, intimidated by her presence. But then you quickly reminded yourself—you were just doing your job.
"Ah, finally." Her voice was colder than you expected, nothing like the warm tone from the interviews you had watched. She took the dress from your hands with a movement that seemed both casual and calculated, and then, her eyes fell on you. "You took your time."
You blinked, surprised by the way she said it. It wasn’t a direct complaint, but there was something sharp in her voice. "Sorry, there was a lot to organize. I figured you'd rather have it arrive perfect than fast."
For a moment, she studied you, her green eyes shining in a way that felt almost… challenging. "Perfect, huh? I don’t know if that’s possible, considering the script I have to work with."
You frowned. "Is there something wrong with the script?"
"Wrong?" She let out a low chuckle, running her fingers over the fabric of the dress. "Wrong isn’t the word. It’s more… weak. My character is predictable, boring. Don’t you think?"
Your stomach twisted. She didn’t know, of course, but you had contributed to that character’s storyline. You had spent nights revising every single line, trying to make her three-dimensional and complex. And now, hearing Wanda dismiss it all as "boring" hit you like a rock.
"Well," you replied, your voice carrying a bit more firmness than usual, "I think characters are only weak when the actor fails to find depth in them."
Wanda’s eyes widened slightly at your boldness. She wasn’t used to being challenged, especially not by someone like you—just a production assistant, practically invisible to her. But instead of looking offended, she smiled, a smile that carried something between amusement and irritation.
"Oh, really?" She crossed her arms, tilting her head slightly as she watched you. "So you think the problem is with me and not the script?"
"That’s not what I said." You tried to keep your tone steady, but you knew your answer wasn’t convincing enough.
"It’s not what you said, but it’s exactly what you meant," she shot back, her voice lower now, as if she was toying with the idea of provoking you. "Funny. And who exactly are you to have such a strong opinion?"
"Someone who understands your character’s story," you answered before you could think, feeling your hands begin to sweat.
For a second, Wanda was silent, and then something shifted in her gaze. It was as if she had just figured something out, something that intrigued her.
"Ah." She murmured, her eyes flickering from your face to the dress in her hands. "You must be the anonymous writer Agatha hired. Now it all makes sense."
You didn’t answer, but the heat rising to your cheeks gave you away.
She took a step closer, the smile on her lips softening but still carrying something sharp. "I’ll tell you something, sweetheart," she whispered, so close you could feel the warmth of her presence. "If you really believe this character has any depth, I hope you prove it. Because so far, I haven’t seen anything."
And then, without waiting for a response, she turned and walked away, leaving you there with your heart racing and your mind spinning.
Wanda Maximoff was everything they said she was—beautiful, brilliant, talented. But at the same time, she was completely different. She was rude, provocative, challenging. And for some reason, all of that only made you feel even more unsettled.
Later, the atmosphere on set felt heavier by the minute. Agatha was particularly irritable, her jaw clenched as if she were about to explode. Her usually calm and controlled voice was hoarse and filled with irritation as she barked orders at everyone around her.
"More energy in the next scene! And please, listen when I give instructions!"
One of the actresses, already nervous about the tense atmosphere, dropped the glass of water she was holding. The glass shattered on the floor, and the sound made everyone on set freeze.
Agatha closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply before whispering through gritted teeth to her assistant. "Clean this up. Now."
The assistant, desperate to avoid any outburst of anger, immediately turned to you. "You. Clean this up now."
Without questioning, you nodded and quickly walked to the small storage room at the back of the set. While you grabbed a broom and some cloths, the door clicked shut behind you.
You turned quickly, your heart pounding so hard it felt like it echoed in the small space.
Agatha was there, leaning against the door with her arms crossed. Her blue eyes had an almost cruel intensity, as if they were dissecting you the moment they met yours. There wasn’t a single crack in the control she exuded, but there was something—something dark, something vulnerable—hidden beneath the facade.
"Do you think you can just disappear like that? Without a word? Without an explanation?" Her voice wasn’t loud, but it carried a weight that made the air feel thicker.
"I was doing what I was told." You tried to sound firm, but your voice wavered, softer than you wanted.
"Don’t give me that." Agatha uncrossed her arms and took a step forward, every movement calculated, predatory. "Talk."
Your chest tightened. "It’s nothing. Just… let me do my job." You tried to step past her, but her hand lifted, pressing against the door, blocking your exit.
"Your face doesn’t look like nothing." She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as she examined you with almost cruel precision. "And that cut on your lip? Is that what you call ‘nothing’?"
You felt the heat rise to your face—a mix of shame and anger making your hands tremble slightly. "That’s... that's none of your business."
Agatha let out a low, sharp laugh, devoid of humor. "Everything about you is my business."
"Why?" You lifted your eyes, your gaze defiant despite the knot in your throat. "Why do you care, Agatha?"
The silence that followed was almost unbearable, heavy with something you couldn’t quite name. Agatha seemed to hesitate, her eyes locked onto yours as if she were fighting an internal battle. When she finally spoke, her voice was lower but no less commanding.
"Because you’re my responsibility."
Those words were like a spark in dry grass. You stepped forward, staring at her directly, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady your breathing.
For a moment, Agatha didn’t respond. The silence hung between you, dense and charged. She seemed to struggle with herself, as if the words were on the tip of her tongue, but something—maybe pride—kept her from saying them.
"Responsibility?" You repeated, letting out a bitter laugh. "I’m not your responsibility, Agatha. I’m a person. Not a project."
Agatha stayed silent, her jaw tightening as she absorbed your words. There was something in her eyes—a mix of anger, wounded pride, and… pain? But her expression quickly returned to a cold, impenetrable mask.
"You think you know everything, don’t you?" She took a step closer, her voice lower but laced with something almost threatening. "You think you can say whatever you want, however you want, without consequences. But let me tell you something, sweetheart—the world doesn’t work that way. I don’t work that way."
"Maybe that’s the problem," you shot back, refusing to back down. "You don’t work. You just… control. You want to control everything around you. Everyone. Including me."
For a moment, Agatha remained silent, her breathing heavy. It seemed like she was about to say something, but then, with a sudden movement, she took a step back and opened the door.
"Get back to work." Her voice was sharp, but with a slight tremor that you almost didn’t notice. "Now."
Without waiting for a response, Agatha left, shutting the door behind her with a dry snap. You stood there, alone, your heart still racing, your emotions tangled—anger, frustration, confusion. It felt like a storm had swept through the small space and left everything upside down. And deep down, you knew she felt the same.
You returned to the set with the supplies you had picked up from the storage room—a bucket, a rag, and a broom. Your heart was still pounding from the confrontation with Agatha, but you tried to focus on what needed to be done. It was better to clean up the shattered glass quickly and return to the invisibility that used to be so comforting.
As you knelt to start gathering the scattered shards, the usual hum of activity on set continued, but you didn’t miss the way Agatha, from her chair, was watching you. She sat with her legs crossed, jaw still tight, and seemed more focused on you than on anything happening around her.
"Are you going to take all day with that?" Her voice cut through the air, drawing everyone's attention.
You froze for a moment, feeling the weight of their stares. Trying to ignore the heat rising to your face, you answered softly, "I'm almost done."
"Almost done?" Agatha stood from her chair, the sound of her heels echoing as she walked toward you. "There’s still water on the floor, shards everywhere... Does that look ‘almost done’ to you?"
Your fingers tightened around the rag, embarrassment washing over you. "I... I'm going as fast as I can."
"It's not enough." Agatha stopped beside you, looking down. Her posture was intimidating, every word laced with something almost cruel. "If you can’t handle a simple task like this efficiently, maybe you’re in the wrong place."
Your stomach twisted, but you didn’t respond. You knew that any words would only make things worse.
"Need some help, sweetheart?" Wanda’s voice carried from across the set, clearly taunting. A few people chuckled, but you felt your face burn even more.
"No, Wanda. She doesn’t need help," Agatha replied, turning slowly to face the actress. "She needs focus. And maybe a little shame."
Wanda let out a soft, ironic laugh, shrugging as she settled back into her chair.
Agatha turned her gaze back to you, her eyes locked onto yours. "If you don’t finish in five minutes, I’ll do it myself. And I guarantee, you won’t like what happens after that."
You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her stare and everyone else's. Everything in you screamed to run, but instead, you lowered your head and kept cleaning, your hands trembling slightly as you hurried to finish.
Agatha stepped away, but not before whispering, just for you to hear, "I hope this teaches you something."
By the time you finished, your hands were red from scrubbing the floor, and your pride had once again been trampled. But you knew this wasn’t about the glass or the water. It was about control. It was always about control.
As you cleaned, a larger shard of glass slipped from the rag and sliced into the side of your hand. A small "ah" of pain escaped, but you quickly muffled the sound, watching the blood trickle down your palm. The cut wasn’t deep, but enough to throb—a physical reminder of what you felt inside.
You held onto the shard, pressing it against the wound, as if the physical pain was a necessary punishment. This is what you deserve, you thought. A failure, a disappointment. To your family, to Agatha, to everyone. When the blood began to drip onto the floor, you let go of the glass and quickly wiped it up, tucking your bleeding hand into your pocket as you finished.
Yelena appeared out of nowhere, as she always did, snapping her fingers at you. "Are you done here? Great, because we need you to adjust the script. Now."
You followed her in silence, pressing the rag against your hand as you walked. When you reached the small table covered in scattered drafts, Yelena barely gave you time to breathe before pointing at a scene. "This dialogue is... how do I put this delicately? Horrible. Fix it."
You looked at the paper. It was a scene featuring the character Wanda had mocked earlier. An unexpected determination filled you.
With your injured hand gripping the pen, you started writing. You adjusted the dialogues, added layers to the character, gave her depth, strength—something no one could call "weak" again. You were so focused that you barely noticed the blood smearing onto the paper, leaving crimson stains along the margins.
By the time you finished, the day was almost over. You handed in the revised script and left for the bus stop, finally letting the cool night air hit your face.
You stood on the sidewalk, the weight of the day's decisions crashing down all at once. Where to go? To your family, who would likely offer only more judgment and disappointment? Or to Agatha and Rio’s mansion, where suffocating control was the only constant in your life?
Before you could decide, the sound of tires echoed down the street, and a sleek black Audi pulled up in front of you. The window rolled down, revealing the two faces that had become a constant torment in your mind.
Agatha, her steel gaze locked on you, and Rio, in the passenger seat, her expression filled with something you couldn’t quite decipher.
"Get in." Agatha’s voice was firm, yet so low it almost felt like a warning.
You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. But the two women kept staring, as if there was no other option but to obey.
The Audi came to a smooth stop, but you already had your hand on the door handle before the engine even turned off. You stepped out without looking back, without waiting for anything. You just wanted to get to your room, close the door, bury your face in Lucky’s warm fur, and pretend—if only for a moment—that none of this was happening.
The air inside the mansion felt heavy, or maybe it was just you, carrying the weight of the day on your shoulders. You climbed the first few steps of the staircase, your heartbeat quickening, but a familiar voice pulled you back like a chain.
"Hey, hey, young lady. Not so fast."
Rio stood in the middle of the hall, one hand on her hip, the other pointing at you like she was stopping traffic.
"Rio, please..." Your voice came out weak, barely a whisper, as you kept your gaze lowered.
"Come here." It wasn’t a request.
You sighed, stepping down reluctantly as she approached. Lucky, who had rushed down to greet you, now lingered at the bottom of the stairs, his tail wagging slowly, as if sensing the tension in the air.
"Let me see," she said, tilting her head slightly to the side, indicating she wanted a better look at your face.
"I'm fine." You tried to turn away, but she wasn’t fooled.
Rio raised an eyebrow, her firm hand catching your chin. "That doesn’t look like 'fine' to me."
You bit your lower lip, momentarily forgetting about the cut there—until the sting made you wince. Rio noticed the movement, and before you could react, her touch was already there, right at the sore spot, gentle but firm enough to make you stop.
"Don't do that." She said, her tone low but loaded with authority.
"It's nothing," you murmured, trying to escape her intense scrutiny. "It was just a… mistake."
Rio remained silent for a moment, her brown eyes locked onto yours. Then, she sighed, but she didn’t seem entirely convinced. "A mistake, huh? That’s not what Agatha told me."
The blue-eyed woman stood behind Rio, arms crossed, her posture impenetrable.
"And what does she know?" You growled, resentment throbbing in your head.
"Don't go there, girl." Agatha warned, her tone dangerous.
Before Rio could press you further, Lucky came running down the stairs, his golden fur gleaming under the soft hall light. He leaped onto you with an enthusiasm that made your defenses crumble for a brief moment.
"See?" You crouched to hug him, your voice attempting to sound casual as you buried your face in his fur. "Everything's fine now."
Rio crossed her arms, watching the scene for a moment before shaking her head. "This isn't over, young lady. But... go ahead. I need to talk to Aggie."
The nickname caught you off guard.
You froze for a second, your hand stopping mid-stroke in Lucky’s fur, the background noise of the hall fading into a dull hum in your head. It was an intimate name, sliding from Rio’s mouth with ease, effortlessly, as if it belonged to her. And, well, maybe it did.
Of course, they had nicknames for each other. Of course, there was familiarity between them. You knew that. You had no right to feel anything about it. Yet, a bitter taste spread in your throat, something uncomfortable and inexplicable burning deep in your stomach.
You forced out a light laugh, pushing a smile onto your face as you stood up, ignoring the unease pulsing inside you.
"Good luck with that," you muttered, trying to sound indifferent.
But as you walked away, the word kept circling in your mind, repeating like an irritating echo.
Aggie.
You picked Lucky up and climbed the stairs, relief mixing with the certainty that your confrontation with Rio and Agatha was far from over.
[...]
Agatha was in the office, the silence broken only by the sound of the wall clock. The soft glow of the lamp made the room feel almost cozy, but the tension in the air was palpable. She sat in her favorite armchair, legs crossed, fingers drumming against the upholstered armrest, creating a steady, almost irritating rhythm. In front of her lay the script. A revised version—a text you had worked tirelessly on.
Reluctant but curious, she picked up the page and started reading. Her blue eyes scanned the words with speed and precision, her furrowed brow indicating both concentration and critique.
Wanda’s character wasn’t the conventional heroine everyone knew. She was an antihero—complex, driven by something that transcended a mere thirst for power. She was a devastated woman, determined, relentless.
Before, she had simply been a mother fighting to get her children back. Now, the protagonist was more than just a mother. She was a woman. A woman who would discover her place in her universe—and in every other.
Agatha let out a sigh. Even with her ego bruised and irritation simmering beneath her skin, she couldn’t deny your talent. The words on the page had a depth that had been missing before, as if you had finally grasped what was needed to capture the essence of the story.
She kept reading, fingers lightly tapping against the wooden desk as she absorbed Wanda’s journey. It wasn’t about being a hero or a villain—it was about being human. She was a woman who knew the pain of loss, the weight of failure, and the strength that came from rebuilding—not just for herself, but to reshape the world around her.
She no longer wanted power just for herself. She wanted power to create a space where she could finally exist as she was, without the crushing expectations of who she was supposed to be. To live, to love, to lose—without the world watching and judging. Deep down, the protagonist’s struggle was for freedom—freedom from pain, from obligation, from the invisible chains of someone who had always been expected to save others and never herself.
Agatha leaned back in her chair, taking in the evolution of the story. It wasn’t about the children, or revenge. It wasn’t just about redeeming her mistakes or overcoming her traumas. It was about the simple, yet profound, desire to be whole. A woman who could find her own identity in a universe constantly trying to mold her.
That was when Agatha noticed something different. At the end of the page, where the ideas were scribbled with urgency, there were smudges of ink… and drops of something red.
She raised an eyebrow, bringing the paper closer to the lamp’s light. Blood. Not much, but enough to alarm her.
"What the..." she murmured, her eyes narrowing. She knew you had been intensely focused on rewriting the script, but she hadn’t expected you to get hurt in the process. Or maybe… the wound was deeper than it seemed.
Rio entered without knocking, her gaze immediately landing on her wife. She didn’t need to ask to understand what was happening. She knew that heavy silence, that tension in Agatha’s jaw that betrayed her more than any words could.
"You’re going to tear the page if you keep gripping it like that," Rio said, her voice light but firm.
Agatha dropped the pages onto the desk but didn’t look at Rio. "I don’t want to talk about it." She leaned back in her leather chair, letting out a tired sigh.
"You never do," Rio replied, closing the door behind her and slowly walking to the couch on the other side of the office. She sat down, observing Agatha for a moment before continuing. "But that doesn’t mean you don’t need to."
Agatha let out a short, sharp sigh, picking up her wine glass just to swirl the liquid inside. She hadn’t taken a sip yet. "She should… know her place. Things have rules, Rio. Order."
Rio raised an eyebrow, resting her elbow on the back of the couch and propping her chin on her hand. "Rules? Or is it your wounded ego?"
Agatha finally looked at her, blue eyes flashing with something between irritation and frustration. "You think that’s what this is? Ego? I’m trying to protect her. Everything I do is to keep her safe."
"I know that." Rio’s voice softened. "I know, my love. But you and I both know that’s not the only thing bothering you. You want her to see you, to understand. And when she doesn’t, you shut down. You get like this."
Agatha pressed her lips together, staring back at her wine. Rio was right, but admitting it was out of the question. She wasn’t going to say out loud what she felt—the infuriating need to be understood, to be... accepted by you.
Rio stood up, walking over to her. She stopped beside the armchair and crouched slightly to meet Agatha’s gaze. "Listen, we’ll handle this. I’ll talk to her. I’ll ask her to apologize."
Agatha laughed, but it was dry, humorless. "You think that will fix it? She’ll apologize just to please me, but what she truly thinks won’t change."
"Maybe not." Rio admitted, resting her hand gently on Agatha’s knee. "But she’s trying. You see that. I see that. And maybe you need to be a little less… Agatha Harkness, Hollywood Director with her."
That earned a barely-there smile from Agatha, the corner of her lips lifting for a second before vanishing. She finally took a sip of her wine, looking at Rio with a mixture of exasperation and affection.
"You make me too soft," she murmured.
Rio shrugged, smiling. "Someone has to."
Agatha took a deep breath, shaking her head. “Fine. Talk to her. But if she shows up with that attitude again…”
“I know, I know,” Rio interrupted, raising her hands. “You’re going to remind me that you don’t have the patience for it.”
Agatha didn’t reply. She simply took another sip of her wine as Rio got up. But deep down, Agatha knew it wasn’t just patience she lacked. It was something deeper, something she wasn’t ready to name yet.
You were sitting on the bed, holding Lucky in your arms as he rested calmly on your lap. Your fingers absentmindedly stroked his soft fur, but your mind kept replaying the events of the day like a cruel film.
You wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come—caught in the tight knot lodged in your throat. Lucky gazed up at you as if he understood the weight you carried, pressing closer, offering the only comfort that felt real in that moment.
A soft knock on the door pulled you from your spiral. You hesitated, turning toward the sound. “Who is it?” your voice came out weak, trembling.
“It’s us,” Rio’s voice was calm, yet filled with concern.
Slowly, you rose from the bed. The black cat leapt off your lap, settling at the edge of the mattress. When you opened the door, they were standing there. Rio held a small stuffed bunny in her arms, her expression shifting between tenderness and barely restrained anger. Agatha stood beside her, arms crossed, her posture rigid—but her blue eyes carried a softness you hadn’t expected.
Rio extended the plush toy to you. “We brought this. Thought it might help Lucky keep you safe,” she said, her voice laced with warmth.
Your eyes welled up as you took the stuffed animal. You hugged it to your chest, as if that simple gesture could shield your wounded heart. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely there.
Rio stepped inside, closing the door behind her. She placed her hands on your shoulders, lowering her head slightly to meet your eyes. “I think you know why we’re here, don’t you?”
“I… I’m fine,” you lied, trying to keep yourself together.
Rio didn’t buy it. Her gaze hardened, but there was patience in it. “You don’t look fine, sweetheart. Why don’t you tell us what happened?”
The words got stuck in your throat for a moment, but when they finally came out, they poured in an uncontrollable flood. You told them about the slap from your father, the insults from your brothers, how every word felt like it crushed you a little more, making you feel like you were less than nothing. The tears fell freely this time, and you didn’t even try to hold them back.
You curled into her arms, sobbing softly. “I didn’t want to be a problem… I just… I just wanted him to like me…” Your voice was small, broken, almost childlike. As if, in that moment, the weight of being strong had finally crumbled, leaving only the most vulnerable version of you behind.
Rio stayed silent as you spoke, but her eyes darkened, her jaw clenched tightly. When you were done, she pulled you into a firm embrace—one that felt like both protection and comfort. “He has no right to treat you like that,” she said, her voice low and filled with restrained fury. “If I could, I would—”
“Rio,” Agatha interrupted, her voice soft but firm. She placed a hand over Rio’s, squeezing lightly, as if grounding her back to reason.
Rio exhaled sharply, still visibly furious, but she stepped back slightly, allowing Agatha to move closer.
You clung to her as if she were an anchor, searching for solace in the warmth of her embrace. And that was when you turned to Agatha, who remained silent near the door.
“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice unsteady. “For the way I acted. For being insolent. I… I was just trying to cope with everything, and I took it out on you.”
Agatha held your gaze, her jaw tightening—but there was something in her eyes that seemed to… crack. She took a deep breath, finally uncrossing her arms. “You had a hard day,” she said, her tone softer than you expected. “But you don’t have to carry this alone.”
Rio smiled beside you. “Exactly. You have us, you know?”
You only nodded, your heart still heavy but starting to feel a sliver of relief. Then, Agatha took a step forward, her eyes locking onto your hand. She seemed to be searching for something.
“What’s this?” she asked, an unexpected hint of concern in her voice.
You followed her gaze and noticed the cut on your finger, the dried blood surrounding it. “Oh, this? Just a scratch,” you said dismissively. “I cut myself while cleaning the set.”
Agatha narrowed her eyes, reaching for your hand before you could pull away. She examined the cut closely, her expression shifting—subtly, but enough that you noticed.
“Just a scratch?” she murmured, almost to herself.
“Yes. It’s nothing,” you said quickly, trying to brush it off. You pulled your hand back.
The tension in the room thickened, pressing down like an invisible force. The air itself felt heavier.
Then, Agatha sat beside you on the bed, her fingers wrapping around your hand with an unyielding grip. The heat of her palm pressed against yours—both intimate and intimidating.
She squeezed your wounded finger, and a sharp sting shot through you as fresh blood welled up again, warm and thick. You inhaled sharply, a quiet hiss of pain escaping before you could stop it. Agatha’s gaze followed the crimson trail, her eyes gleaming with something unreadable. It was as if time had stopped. The entire world faded away, leaving only the two of you and this moment—charged with something unspoken, something you couldn’t name.
“Agatha…” you murmured, confusion and nervousness coloring your voice as you searched her face for answers.
She didn’t respond. Her eyes remained locked onto the blood trickling from your finger, mesmerized, as if each drop held some kind of spell over her. Slowly, as if moving through a trance, she lifted your hand to her lips, her breath ghosting over your skin.
Then, she pressed a delicate kiss against the wound—her mouth warm and soft against the sting of the cut.
The pain mingled with something else, something deeper. A shiver ran down your spine, electric and uncontrollable. It was wrong, almost wicked, but impossible to ignore—a pleasure disguised, slipping beneath the surface like a dark secret that refused to stay buried.
You froze.
The gesture was so unexpected, so laced with silent sensuality, that your breath caught in your throat. But before you could process it—before you could react—she did something that stole every ounce of air from your lungs.
Her lips parted, and with slow, deliberate intent, she took your wounded finger into her mouth—sucking softly at the blood.
Your heart pounded, a frantic drum against your chest. Heat surged up your face, burning your cheeks, and a strange, unmistakable pulse began to throb in places you barely dared to acknowledge. It was… confusing. Incendiary.
Why did Agatha look so irresistible with your blood on her lips? Was it wrong to think that?
Agatha let out a low sound, something between a groan and a growl—possessive, predatory. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, as if savoring a rare and forbidden wine, before opening them again, darker now, more intense.
When she finally pulled her finger from her mouth, her breathing was slightly uneven, as if she herself were dealing with something greater than she could control.
“This…” she murmured, her voice low and husky, each word dripping with satisfaction. “My good girl.”
The satisfied purr in her tone sent a sharp pull through you, heat spreading in an unbearable wave. You tried to breathe, but the air was thick, too heavy with an energy you couldn’t understand—an energy that consumed every inch of your body.
Good girl. Good girl. Good girl.
The words echoed in your mind, spiraling in an endless loop, trapping you in a whirlwind of unknown sensations. A part of you wanted to resist, but the thought of hearing those words again, spoken in that low, possessive voice, made your skin prickle and your resolve waver. It was like a drug you didn’t know you needed, but one you were already beginning to crave.
Agatha leaned in even closer, her face so near that you could feel her breath—warm, provocative—against your skin. She brushed her cheek against yours, like a lion marking its prey, staking her claim, making it clear that you belonged to her. Her scent was intoxicating, heavy, and the way she purred seemed to seep into every fiber of your being.
“You’re so delicious,” she murmured, her voice thick with something impossible to resist.
But the moment shattered when Rio stirred on the other side of the bed. Her body was rigid, as if she were exerting immense effort to restrain herself. Her eyes were fixed on the two of you, lips slightly parted, her breathing heavy.
She looked… torn, as if part of her wanted to stop everything while another part was being dragged into the same current of desire. Her fingers dug into her own arms, but the way her gaze burned was just as ravenous as Agatha’s.
Her breath was uneven, almost panting, and her fingers tightened against her arms as if the pressure could keep the growing heat at bay.
The look in her eyes had changed—raw, hungry, a desire she was trying to suppress but that slipped through in every small movement. Her chest rose and fell in an erratic rhythm, and a bead of sweat trailed down the curve of her neck, betraying the effort to keep herself in check.
Rio leaned forward slightly, as if something unseen was pulling her closer, her lips parting as she took a deep breath, trying to regain control. But it was impossible to ignore the way her eyes lingered a second too long on the cut on your finger, on Agatha’s lips, on the glistening sheen still visible there.
Desire hung thick in the air, an undeniable heat radiating from her body, flooding the room.
She let out a rough sigh—almost a stifled moan—and uncrossed her arms, her fingers hesitant but now free, sliding along the side of her thigh as she shifted, as if needing an outlet for all that energy. Her composed facade was unraveling, and the way she wet her lips while looking at you made the space feel even tighter, more suffocating.
It was as if Rio were standing on a battlefield—torn between the need to hold herself back and the irresistible urge to give in to whatever was consuming her. And in that moment, her gaze was so intense that you felt stripped bare beneath it, exposed to something both overwhelming and inescapable.
“Agatha…” Rio finally spoke, her voice low, but thick with something that vibrated in the charged air of the room.
Agatha turned her head slowly, still holding your hand in a firm, calculated grip—her fingers cold against your feverish skin. It wasn’t a gesture of comfort, but of control, of warning. The look she gave Rio was a brewing storm, a silent clash of wills, as if words were unnecessary when so much could be said with just their eyes.
For long, heavy seconds, silence stretched between them—thick with tension, with something that made your chest tighten and the air feel scarce.
Then, abruptly, Agatha let go of your hand, almost as if the contact itself were a threat to her.
What she did next was cold and ruthless. She pushed you back against the headboard, her fingers barely grazing your skin in the process, yet the gesture was enough to make you feel small, vulnerable—like something she could discard with the slightest touch.
The look she gave you before turning away was disorienting—a blend of disdain and something else. Something that made your heart race for reasons you couldn’t explain.
She walked toward the door without hurry, but each step landed like a blow in the silence.
Before leaving, Agatha glanced at Rio—an exchange so intense it seemed to set fire to the space between them. Then, without hesitation, she left, the door clicking shut behind her with quiet finality.
You sat there, frozen, feeling the ghost of her touch burning where her fingers had been.
But Rio didn’t move immediately. She stood by the bed, shoulders tense, her breathing uneven.
There was something in her that looked ready to shatter—a raw need for control mixed with a frustration she had no place to put. It was as if the silent battle with Agatha still echoed inside her, but what she felt for you was something that went beyond all of that.
“Rio, what—” you started, but she cut you off.
"Sleep.”
Her voice was firm, but there was a faint tremor in it, as if holding herself back took more effort than she wanted to admit. Rio turned and left, without looking back, leaving you alone in the empty room.
But she didn’t truly leave—her presence lingered, the warmth of her body, the weight of everything left unsaid.
You leaned back against the headboard, your heart pounding out of rhythm, your thoughts a chaotic mess.
The subtle scent of Rio still clung to the air, blending with something darker, something addicting that seemed to come from Agatha.
Sleep? Impossible.
Agatha’s touch, Rio’s gaze, the heavy silence wrapping around everything—how could anyone possibly find peace after this?
~*~
Gimme my valentine gift, gimme your reactions :)
Tag List <3
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Text
All OF THIS! <3
Prohibition should have taught us that you can‘t keep people from drugging themselves without also making life significantly less shity
And to the person (can't be arsed to scroll up to read the name)that was like:
No I don't think Adderall should should be sold over the counter.
Yeah, good idea
Aderall should not be over the counter because some dude bro asshole might abuse it
And trans women should not be allowed to use womens restrooms BECAUSE SOME DUDE BRO ASSHOLE MIGHT ABUSE IT
And you have to babysit your drink because SOME DUDE BRO ASSHOLE MIGHT ABUSE IT
I AM NOTICING A PATTERN … YOU TOO?
Also newsflash
Adderall isn‘t over the counter, yet their dad got it … because he has a functioning brain.
Meanwhile people who need it can‘t have it because in order to jump through all those hoops … you need a functioning brain.
youtube
And their solution to the problem is:
ta-da!
People with a functioning brain should still have easier access to medication they don‘t need then people with neurological issues who do NEED it
How about no one is allowed to get insulin without jumping through endless hoops because some people who didn‘t need it used it and ended up in a hospital?
No?
Not a good solution?
But it protects people who should not take serious medication in the first place, from themselves
And their families from potential tragedy
All at the low low price of the lives of the people who DO need the medication.
No?
You don‘t like that?
Why do you think it‘s a good solution for people with ADHD?
Because they don‘t drop dead without the meds?
Trust me, some of them are dead in every way that matters
They can‘t finish their education, they can‘t hold down a job, they can‘t keep up friendships, they can barely concentrate on their hobbies, they are the black sheep of the family that everyone hates, they self medicate with alcohol …
But I guess it’s better if people with neurological issues damage their bodies with alcohol and drugs in a desperate attempt to self medicate then that their dad gets an easier access to a medication he should not be taking TO BEGIN WITH.
That sounds fair …
We have been here before
Rather burn a hundred innocent women, then letting one witch life.
Well, I can only counter :
“It is better that ten guilty persons escape than that one innocent suffer.” Sir William Blackstone
It’s the same stupid argument of why AO3 needs to sensor everything because some people have no media literacy, so again everyone has to yield to the assholes …
If I'm stepping out of line y'all can tell me
You are stepping out of line
Badly
Your dads problem wasn’t that access to Adderall was to easy
IT ISN’T
You dads problem is that he can’t take no as an answer
If your father hadn’t gotten his hands on Adderall
Which again, I can not emphasize enough HE DID
WHILE it was heavily regulated, so clearly the regulations aren’t doing shit to keep people from abusing it
If your father hadn’t gotten his hands on Adderall
Then it would have been something else
Some people are garbage
Doesn’t mean the rest of us has to suffer just to protect them
→ bUt mY dAd lAsHeD oUt aT hIs fAmIly
Yeah?
Mine too
Without meds
Without Alcohol
Just in is natural state
Probably because HE SHOULD have been on ADHD medication …
wild how we have a medication that is super effective at treating a debilitating disability but its controlled to hell and back because What If Someone Takes It For Fun like i have an idea who gives a shit
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saebyeokbliss · 2 days ago
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you should write about like, saebyeok being all stiff and awkward when she meets the in laws 😭😭 poor baby would be breaking out in a cold sweat on the drive to their house lolol, and then reader tries to comfort her saying things like "dont worry baby their gonna love you"
LIKE REAL PEOPLE DO
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pairing: loser!kang sae-byeok x fem!wealthy!reader synopsis: after reluctantly agreeing to have dinner with your prestigious, business-owning parents on valentine’s day, sae-byeok finds herself spiraling into a pit of nerves. despite your reassurances that everything will be fine, she spends the entire car ride coming up with increasingly ridiculous excuses to turn back. but when she finally meets your parents—expecting judgment, skepticism, and disapproval—she’s instead met with something unfamiliar: acceptance. maybe, just maybe, she doesn’t have to fight this battle alone. warnings: mild anxiety, social class differences, sae-byeok being emotionally guarded, mentions of past struggles, nervous girlfriend behavior, fluff with a touch of angst, supportive but slightly intimidating parents, awkward dinner moments, eventual acceptance and soft feelings.
a/n: happy valentine's day!! hope your day went well! im so late but hope you enjoy this little fic loves <33
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The soft hum of the heater filled the quiet apartment, the warmth of it wrapping around you like a blanket as you lounged on the couch, Sae-byeok's legs draped over your lap. It was a rare moment of peace—one where neither of you had anywhere to be, no obligations pulling you apart. The city outside was alive as ever, but in your little shared space, it was just the two of you.
Sae-byeok was half-focused on a random movie playing on the TV, her fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on your thigh. She wasn’t one for excessive displays of affection, but after months of being together, you had learned her love was in the little things: the way she always made sure your phone was charged, how she let you steal her hoodies without complaint, how she held your hand under the dinner table when she thought no one was looking.
You had met her in the most unexpected way. Your worlds couldn’t have been more different—your parents, prestigious business owners, had always imagined you settling down with someone from their carefully curated social circles. Someone with an impressive degree, a spotless reputation, and a future that aligned with their expectations.
Sae-byeok was none of that.
You had met her at a small café on a rainy evening, your usual order messed up beyond recognition. You had been about to complain when Sae-byeok, who had been standing behind you, raised a single eyebrow and muttered, “If you don’t want it, I’ll take it.”
Something about her intrigued you instantly—the sharpness in her eyes, the guarded way she carried herself. One sarcastic remark led to another, and somehow, you had ended up sitting across from her, talking for hours. One coffee meet-up turned to two, then three, until it became something neither of you could deny.
Dating her hadn’t been easy. Sae-byeok had walls built sky-high, trust not coming easily to her. But you had been patient, and slowly, she had let you in. And now, here you were, tangled together on the couch, her presence as familiar to you as breathing.
Then your phone rang.
You groaned, recognizing the contact immediately: Mom.
Sae-byeok glanced at you out of the corner of her eye. “You gonna answer that?”
You sighed but pressed accept anyway, putting the phone on speaker. “Hey, Mom.”
“Sweetheart! How are you?” Your mother’s voice was warm but laced with the usual undertone of expectation.
“I’m good. Just relaxing.”
“Good, good. Your father and I were just talking, and—well, Valentine’s Day is coming up.”
You felt Sae-byeok stiffen slightly beside you.
“Uh-huh?”
“We thought it would be nice to have you over for dinner! You and that lovely girlfriend of yours.”
Your stomach twisted slightly. Your parents knew about Sae-byeok, of course. You hadn’t hidden your relationship, but they had never met her in person. You had no idea how they would react to her—not just as your girlfriend, but as someone who came from a world so vastly different from theirs.
Sae-byeok was staring at the TV now, pretending not to listen—but you could see the way her fingers had stopped moving on your thigh.
“I—uh, yeah. That sounds nice,” you said hesitantly.
“Wonderful! We’ll expect you both at seven. Oh, and tell Sae-byeok not to be shy! We’re excited to finally meet her.”
You forced a small laugh. “I’ll let her know.”
After a few more pleasantries, your mother hung up. The room was silent for a beat.
Then you turned to Sae-byeok, who was still staring at the TV with the look of someone who had just been handed a death sentence.
“You okay?” you asked softly.
She blinked. “You just agreed to throw me to the wolves.”
You laughed, nudging her. “They’re not wolves.”
“They’re rich, important people who probably think I’m some kind of street rat.”
You frowned. “Hey, don’t say that. They’re going to love you.”
Sae-byeok scoffed but didn’t pull away when you reached for her hand. “You don’t know that.”
“I do,” you insisted. “Because I love you.”
Her eyes flickered with something unreadable, and for a moment, she looked like she wanted to argue. But then she sighed, squeezing your hand once before looking away.
“This is going to be a disaster,” she muttered.
You grinned. “We’ll see.”
The car ride to your parents’ house was… tense.
Sae-byeok sat in the driver’s seat, her hands gripping the wheel so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. She wasn’t saying much, but you could practically feel the nervous energy radiating off her.
She was trying to play it cool, of course—shoulders squared, expression blank, acting like this was no big deal. But you knew her too well. The way she kept adjusting the rearview mirror despite already having it perfectly positioned, the way she cleared her throat every few minutes, the way her foot hovered just a little too long over the brake pedal at every red light—yeah, she was freaking out.
You bit back a smile as she let out a slow exhale, eyes locked on the road ahead.
“You okay over there?” you asked, voice light.
“Fine,” she replied immediately. Too fast.
You hummed, amused. “You sure?”
“Yeah.” Again, too quick.
A pause. Then:
“…Maybe we should turn around.”
You snorted. “Sae—”
“I just remembered something,” she continued, completely deadpan. “I left the stove on.”
You raised an eyebrow. “We didn’t use the stove today.”
“Maybe I did. You don’t know.”
You laughed, reaching over to squeeze her thigh. “Nice try.”
She sighed dramatically, drumming her fingers on the wheel as she approached another red light. “Okay. What if… I got really, really sick right now?”
You rolled your eyes. “You’re not sick.”
“I could be.”
“You’re fine.”
She exhaled sharply through her nose. “Okay, well. What if the car just—broke down? Right here. Right now.”
You glanced at the dashboard. “Battery’s fine. No lights are on.”
She clicked her tongue. “Damn.”
“Sae.”
“What?”
You smiled at her. “You’re nervous.”
“I’m not nervous,” she shot back, but the way she was gripping the wheel told another story.
You reached over and gently pried one of her hands off the wheel, lacing your fingers together. “It’s okay if you are,” you murmured.
She didn’t respond right away, just stared at the road ahead. Then, finally, she muttered, “I don’t do well with… people like them.”
You squeezed her hand. “People like them?”
She sighed. “Rich. Powerful. Judgmental.”
You frowned. “They’re not that bad.”
“They’re your parents. Of course you think that.”
You hesitated. Okay, fine—your parents weren’t exactly the warmest, most down-to-earth people. They had expectations, high ones, and they had never exactly approved of the way you chose to live outside of their carefully curated world.
But they weren’t cruel. And they were trying.
“I know they can be… a lot,” you admitted. “But they want to meet you. That has to count for something, right?”
Sae-byeok didn’t look convinced.
“Hey.” You tugged on her hand, forcing her to glance at you. “They’re gonna love you.”
She scoffed. “Doubt it.”
You rolled your eyes. “How could they not? You’re smart, you’re funny—”
“Debatable.”
“—and you make me happy.”
That made her pause.
You softened. “That’s all that matters to them, Sae. That I’m happy. And I am.”
She let out a breath, glancing at you from the corner of her eye. “…You’re really annoying, you know that?”
You grinned. “And yet, you’re still in love with me.”
She groaned, but you caught the way the corner of her mouth twitched upward.
The car slowed as she pulled into your parents’ long, pristine driveway. The house loomed ahead—grand, elegant, intimidating as hell.
Sae-byeok stared at it like it was her worst nightmare.
“…Last chance to turn around,” she muttered.
You laughed, squeezing her hand one last time before letting go. “Come on, tough girl. Time to meet the in-laws.”
Sae-byeok exhaled sharply, muttered something under her breath in Korean, and put the car in park.
Then, with the stiffest posture you had ever seen, she stepped out of the car—looking as though she was walking straight into a battlefield.
Sae-byeok looked like she was walking into an execution.
Her shoulders were stiff, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of the blazer you had begged her to wear, and her usual tough, indifferent exterior was barely holding up against the sheer intimidation of your parents’ house. The place was massive—high ceilings, grand windows, and a front door so polished that she could see her own stressed-out reflection in it.
You reached for her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze before ringing the doorbell.
“You’ve got this,” you whispered.
She exhaled sharply. “I really don’t.”
Before you could reassure her again, the door swung open, revealing your mother—graceful, elegant, and dressed in a designer outfit that probably cost more than Sae-byeok’s entire wardrobe combined.
“Sweetheart!” she greeted, pulling you into a hug. Then she turned to Sae-byeok, her smile still in place but a little more measured. “And you must be Sae-byeok.”
Sae-byeok, to her credit, managed to nod. “Uh, yeah. Hi.”
You could tell she was trying her best to stand tall, to act like she wasn’t completely overwhelmed, but her hand was clammy in yours.
Your mother stepped aside, motioning you both inside. “Come in, come in! Dinner’s almost ready.”
As you walked in, Sae-byeok subtly glanced around, taking in the lavish decor—the expensive artwork, the grand staircase, the ridiculously fancy chandelier hanging above the dining room. She looked like she was fighting the urge to whistle.
Your father was already at the dining table, standing as you both approached. He was just as intimidating—tall, serious, with the sharp gaze of a man used to being in control.
Sae-byeok was visibly trying not to shrink under it.
“So,” your father said, his voice firm. “This is the girl who’s stolen my daughter’s heart.”
Sae-byeok blinked. “Uh… yeah. That would be me.”
You nearly laughed at how robotic she sounded.
Your father hummed, giving her a once-over. “Sit, both of you.”
Sae-byeok hesitated for a fraction of a second before pulling out a chair stiffly, sitting with perfect posture like she was in a damn job interview. She looked like she was about to break into a cold sweat.
Your mother poured some wine, offering Sae-byeok a glass.
“Thank you,” Sae-byeok said, accepting it carefully, as if she was afraid one wrong move would shatter the expensive crystal.
“So, Sae-byeok,” your mother started as she took her seat. “Tell us about yourself.”
Sae-byeok cleared her throat. “Uh, well. I—” She hesitated, glancing at you quickly before continuing. “I was born in North Korea, but I left when I was young. It’s just me and my little brother now.”
Your parents exchanged a glance, their expressions unreadable.
Your heart squeezed. You knew this wasn’t easy for her—she wasn’t used to talking about herself, especially not to people who made their judgments based on polished resumes and perfect backgrounds.
But before the silence could stretch too long, your father spoke.
“That must’ve been difficult,” he said, his tone surprisingly even. “I imagine you’ve been through a lot.”
Sae-byeok hesitated, as if she was waiting for some kind of condescending remark to follow. But when none came, she nodded slowly. “Yeah. I have.”
Your mother smiled, softer this time. “And what do you do now?”
Sae-byeok glanced at you again, visibly unsure of how much to say.
“She’s been working hard,” you cut in, sensing her discomfort. “She’s saving up to start her own business.”
That wasn’t exactly a lie—Sae-byeok had been talking about opening something small, maybe a clothing shop or a café. It was still just an idea, but it was hers.
Your father raised an eyebrow. “A business? Interesting. What kind?”
Sae-byeok hesitated again, then squared her shoulders. “Fashion, maybe. Or something in retail.”
Your mother’s eyes lit up. “Fashion? Well, that’s an exciting industry.”
Sae-byeok nodded stiffly, still unsure if this was going well or horribly.
The conversation continued through dinner, and little by little, you could see Sae-byeok starting to relax—just slightly. She was still guarded, still careful with her words, but she wasn’t as tense as she had been when you first walked in.
Then, at one point, your father leaned back in his chair and looked at her seriously.
“You know,” he said, “when we heard our daughter was dating someone, we weren’t sure what to expect.”
Sae-byeok tensed again.
“But,” he continued, “I can see why she chose you.”
Sae-byeok blinked. “You… can?”
Your father nodded. “You’re strong. Independent. You’ve been through things most people can’t even imagine, and yet, you’re still standing. That says a lot about your character.”
Sae-byeok stared at him like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
Your mother smiled. “And most importantly, she’s happy with you.”
You turned to Sae-byeok, squeezing her hand under the table. She still looked stunned, like she had been bracing for rejection the entire night—only to be met with something she hadn’t expected.
Acceptance.
As you left that night, walking toward the car, Sae-byeok was quiet. But this time, it wasn’t the stiff, nervous silence from before.
You nudged her playfully. “See? Told you they’d love you.”
She scoffed, but there was no real annoyance behind it. “I still don’t trust rich people.”
You laughed. “Fair. But… they trust you.”
She glanced at you, something unreadable in her expression. Then, finally, she sighed, unlocking the car.
“I guess that’s a start.”
And as you drove home, her hand resting comfortably in yours, you knew that was more than enough.
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merrybloomwrites · 3 days ago
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We Know Where We Belong
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Summary: When your brother starts working with Harry Styles, you're so excited to see him accomplishing his dreams. What you don't expect is the way this will change your life, and all for the better.
It may take time to get your happy ending with Harry, but when you do, the wait is completely worth it.
Word Count: 9.4K
CW: attempted assault leading to injury that needs surgery, allusions to sex, pregnancy & mention of childbirth
AN: I started this last June and it was originally just supposed to be a cute family story about reader as Mitch's sister, but then decided I wanted to make it a Harry x reader instead.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Your whole life, you always looked up to your two big brothers. Beckett is the oldest, thirteen years older than you, and one of your first memories is of him getting his first car when he was sixteen. He was always nice to you when he was around, but truthfully that wasn’t a lot. He had his group of friends that he always went to hang out with, and he left for college when you were only five years old. 
Mitch was the opposite, hanging home most of the time, though often hidden in his room. There was always music playing, whether from his radio, or from his guitar. He was always practicing, and you thought he was the best guitar player in the whole world. Sometimes, when Beckett was out, Mitch would play on his drum kit. You were sworn to secrecy, which didn’t always suit you. As the little sister, the baby of the family, you felt it was your duty to stir the pot. But when Mitch promised to teach you guitar in exchange for you staying quiet about the drums, you had to agree. 
The guitar lessons were your favorite activity. Mitch would teach you different skills, always patient when you needed extra help to understand something. Plus, you got to watch him play, and he would test out new song ideas on you. It wasn’t the best idea if he wanted constructive feedback, since you thought everything he played was the coolest thing ever, but it made you feel so special that he trusted you so much.
When Mitch got his driver's license, the first thing he did was take you to get ice cream. Instead of disappearing with friends all the time like Beckett had done, Mitch would take you on some sort of outing each week. But his schedule started to fill up with school, and work, and practicing music with some other boys in the neighborhood. Though he still made sure to hang with you, your guitar lessons and trips to the ice cream parlor started to become less frequent. 
And then he left for college. And you tried to ignore your sadness at how much you missed him. You got into new hobbies which kept you busy and introduced you to new friends. You continued practicing guitar, and all your hard work paid off when Mitch came home to visit and was impressed by your progress. He was always there for your big moments, like when you won the spelling bee and that time your softball team went all the way to states. 
He came back home for a bit after college, but he spent most of his time working and practicing music. You were busy as well, having grown to love your extracurriculars and you had a solid friend group that you were always hanging out with.
But when Mitch announced he was moving to Los Angeles you were devastated. Him going to college was hard enough, and he was only two hours away. But California? This time you didn’t hide your feelings. To fourteen old you, this was the end of the world. Instead of hanging with his friends the night before he left, he spent it at home, having a movie marathon and reassuring you that he’d never be more than a phone call away.
It was hard saying good-bye, but you were proud of him for following his dreams. Your high school years both dragged on and flew by at the same time, and before you knew it you were getting college acceptance letters. While your friends were excited for their Ivy League acceptances or admittance to the biggest party schools, you had your eyes set on one place in particular. 
You called Mitch when the letter came, opening it on Facetime. You screamed in excitement when you saw the words “You’re In!” 
It was official. You were going to UCLA, and were going to live in the same city as Mitch.
Of course your parents worried about their eighteen year old moving so far away, but knowing your brother was close by eased their fears. You flew out that summer, working a waitress job and staying with Mitch who insisted he sleep on the couch so you could have his room. He pretended to be put out and annoyed, but you could tell he was happy to have you there.
And then he got the call. The big break he’d been waiting and working his whole life for. He didn’t tell you the details at first, since you were both busy and didn’t see each other much over those first few days. He mentioned he was working in the studio, but that was all. It wasn’t until Sunday afternoon that you two finally had some time together to hang out. 
“How’s the new gig?” You ask. 
“Honestly, it’s pretty sick. I’m working with Harry Styles,” he replies casually. 
You stare at him for a moment, thinking you must have misheard him. No way has your brother been working with Harry Styles for the past week. 
“Are you serious?” You finally ask. 
“Yea.”
“Harry Styles?”
“Yes.”
“From One Direction?”
“Mhmm.”
“Mitch! Are you serious?”
“Yes, Y/N, I’m completely serious. Why?”
“Why? Because it’s Harry Styles! You’ve met him? You’re working with him? Mitch this is insane! He’s like- he so- oh my god!”
“I’m not following,” Mitch says after your outburst. 
“Mitch, Harry is from one of the biggest boy bands in the world! I was obsessed with them! How do you not know this? And he was always my favorite. And then he grew his hair out and got even hotter.”
“Well, I hate to break it to you but he just cut it.”
“Shut the fuck up. You’re lying.”
“Sorry, but no. He went yesterday, here,” Mitch says and pulls up a picture on his phone. It is without a doubt Harry, his long locks gone. It takes a minute to get used to but you finally reply, “Well, he still looks damn good.”
“Glad to know you’re thirsting over my boss,” he says in a teasing voice. 
“Your boss. That’s so bizarre.”
“You want to meet him?”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously. Stop asking that.”
“I mean, obviously I want to meet him!”
“Ok. I’ll talk to him. Maybe you can visit the studio next week.”
“Holy shit. Wait. No. Don’t do that.”
“So you don’t want to meet him?”
“I do! But no! Cause that’s terrifying.”
Mitch laughs at that and asks, “How is that terrifying? He’s super nice. Very chill. I promise.”
“Ok fine. Yes, I'd like to come and meet him.”
“Then I’ll set it up.”
“Can I ask about the music you guys are working on?”
“You can ask. But I’m probably not supposed to say anything yet. Maybe you can get a little preview when you visit,” Mitch says.
The two of you continue to talk, though Mitch is reluctant to share more details about Harry or his work. 
You’re busy with your job most of the week, but somehow manage to get Friday off, which is perfect because Mitch has set it up for you to come visit the studio and meet the others. 
You head over with your brother mid-morning, and ignore the way he’s teasing you. Of course you’re nervous to meet Harry Styles, but does Mitch really need to point that out?
Luckily Harry isn’t there when you arrive at the studio, giving you some time to look around at all the equipment. Mitch asks you to tune one of the guitars for him and you do so happily, enjoying having something to focus on.
When you finish that, Mitch grabs another guitar and the two of you play together for a couple minutes. It feels like all those times back home, and any anxiety you had earlier has melted away.
When you finish the song you’re playing you hear someone clapping behind you. The person then says, “Good to know there’s a backup Rowland if we ever need one.” 
Your eyes go comically wide as you realize the person behind you is none other than Harry Styles. Thankfully your brother decides to have pity on you, and instead of teasing you he simply says, “Harry, I’d like you to meet my sister, Y/N.”
You stand and turn, and Harry says, “Hello Y/N, I’m Harry. It’s nice to meet you.” He puts out his hand and you reach forward to shake it, and reply, “It’s nice to meet you as well.”
“While I’d love to chat a bit more, I had this idea last night and I’m itching to get started. You’re free to hang out. It’s pretty casual here. And then maybe you and Mitch can join me for dinner tonight?”
“Sounds good,” you say. “Thank you for letting me watch today, I’m excited to see what you guys are working on.”
“Of course. It’s good to have an audience, get some feedback.”
With that, you take a seat and spend the next couple of hours watching with fascination as they work. The time passes quickly and before you know it you’re seated with Harry and your brother at a nearby restaurant. 
It’s a great evening, and while you’d been nervous to meet Harry, you quickly discover that wasn’t necessary. He’s so friendly and welcoming, and the two of you keep getting lost in conversation, Mitch occasionally managing to get a few words in. But he doesn’t mind. He’s just interested in watching the two of you interact, keeping a big brother eye out. 
After stretching out the meal as long as possible you and Mitch say goodbye to Harry. You don’t expect the hug Harry gives you, and you really don’t expect it to be so prolonged. But you’re not complaining. 
Mitch, however, has some questions once the two of you get home.
“So, what’d you think of Harry?” he asks.
“He’s nice,” you answer simply.
“That’s all? You don’t have a major crush on him or anything?”
You roll your eyes and reply, “Of course I do. Who wouldn’t? He’s attractive, talented, kind. Pretty much the whole package.”
“I just don’t want you getting your feelings hurt.”
“I know. And I promise this is just a silly crush. I’m not gonna act on it and like, lose my mind and ask him out. Plus I’m sure these feelings will pass if I spend more time with him.”
As it turns out, your feelings do not pass. Over the next couple of weeks you see Harry on occasion, and each time, those feelings only grow. You just love everything about him. And he always makes you feel special, and happy. 
When you move into the dorms to start freshman year, Harry is there to help carry your things inside. He texts you after your first day asking how your classes are going. He checks in, and he sends food to your dorm that weekend to celebrate a successful first week.
And then he leaves. Well, him and his whole team, including your brother, for a two month writing retreat in Jamaica. You’re sad to be left behind and to have to say goodbye to them, but college is keeping you busy. While you miss them a bit, you’re focused on classes and you’ve made a great group of friends, so you don’t really have time to dwell on it.
That being said, you are excited when they come back. 
You spend time with both Mitch and Harry, but midterm season is a lot, so you tend to be hunkered down in the library or your dorm studying.
Even when your exams are finished, you still have one project hanging over you, so you spend one more evening focused at the library. You finally complete and submit it, and check the clock for the first time in hours, surprised to see it’s almost 10PM. 
You quickly pack up your things and head out, not wanting to interact with the library worker who would kick you out if you stay another five minutes.
It’s a quiet night on campus as you walk back to your dorm, and you’re enjoying the fresh air when all of a sudden someone roughly grabs and twists your arm. You turn in shock and the man pulls you off the path and into a dark alley.
Through the panic in your mind, you can’t help but think of how much of a cliched situation you’ve gotten into. But then he twists your arm even harder and you cry out in pain. That’s when his mouth roughly covers yours, both to try and quiet you, and to start what he’s obviously trying to do to you. 
Refusing to give in you do the one piece of self defense you can think of, and knee him in the balls as hard as you can. It works, and he backs away, but not before shoving you back so your head hits the wall. You cry out in pain, and thankfully that is heard by a group of students walking by. 
Two girls rush over to help you while a few boys surround your attacker, ensuring he can’t get away. 
“Hey, let’s sit for a minute,” one of the girls says and helps you to the ground. You can hear the other girl on the phone, presumably to get emergency services there. 
“Is there someone you want us to call?” 
“Uhm, yea. My brother.” You take a deep breath, trying to keep the panic and shock at bay in order to open your phone and click on Mitch’s contact.
It rings, and Mitch answers with a cheerful, “Hey, what’s up?”
For some reason, hearing his voice breaks through the barriers you’re trying to build, and you start to cry, too hard to even get any words out.
“Y/N, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asks, now clearly panicked. 
Realizing you won’t be able to explain, the girl wraps an arm around you and takes the phone, saying, “Hi, my name is Layla. My friends and I were walking on campus and heard a commotion. Your sister, she uhm, there was a guy. I think he hurt her arm, and uhm-” she stops for a moment and turns to you, asking if you were hurt anywhere else.
“Yea. My head. He hit it against the wall,” you manage to explain.
She nods and turns back to the phone, “She says he hurt her head as well.”
You don’t hear Mitch’s response but then Layla says, “I’ll send you a message with our location, hold on. Okay there, you should be able to find us. We have police and an ambulance on the way. My friends and I will stay with her.”
A moment later the phone is handed back to you. The call is still going so you put it up to your ear to hear Mitch say, “We’re on our way. We’re just down the street, we'll be there soon, I promise.” 
“Okay,” you choke out through your tears. 
It’s relatively calm for a minute or two, and then the scene becomes chaotic. The police and ambulance both arrive, and a moment later so does Mitch. You’re so happy to see him that it takes you a moment to realize Harry is there as well. 
You reach out your uninjured arm to your brother and he quickly sits beside you. He holds your hand and gently strokes your hair out of your face, wanting to comfort you but still way of any injuries you have. 
“Hi, I’m Colleen,” says a paramedic as she crouches down to your level. Before she can say anything else there’s a commotion. The police officers are cuffing your attacker and leading him to the car. 
As this happens, the man looks at you and shouts, “This is all the stupid sluts fault! You bitch!”
You turn to Mitch and tuck yourself into his chest to hide, but still hear the voices around you all yelling at the man to drown him out. One voice stands out, and Harry clearly says, “You’d better stop talking right now, or you’re going to regret it.”
“Harry!” Mitch shouts, calling him off before he can make an even bigger scene. Mitch knows that Harry Styles attacking anyone, even such a lowlife, would not do well for his image. 
Harry quickly walks over and kneels on the ground. You pull away from Mitch a bit and Harry gently places a hand on your cheek and asks, “Are you alright?” The concern is clear on his face, and though you’ve been friends for months, you're still surprised by the intensity of how much he cares for you right now. 
“I’m okay,” you say quietly. “Just wanna go home.”
“I’m sorry,” Colleen says beside you. “By the looks of that arm you’ll need a stop at the hospital first. And I’m told you hit your head as well so we’ll need to check that too.”
Harry steps back to let the paramedics do their work, and you pout at the distance. Your tears return as they splint your arm, and the next thing you know you’re being placed on a stretcher. 
Before they can get you in the ambulance, a police officer walks over and asks for your statement. 
“Does this have to be done right now?” Harry asks.
“We can wait up to 48 hours, but it’s best to do it now. It’s easier to get it done, and the memory is most fresh now,” the officer explains. 
“It’s alright, I’d rather just get it over with,” you say. 
You tell them exactly what happened, your grip on Mitch’s hand tightening as you do so. By the time you’re done explaining, tears are rolling down your cheeks again and your brother gently wipes them away. Harry turns his back to you, but not before you see the angry expression he’s obviously trying to hide.
You look at Mitch and see that his expression is mostly concerned, but he’s definitely mad as well. That’s when you realize that up until now, you hadn’t mentioned the man forcing himself on you. But now that Harry and Mitch know about the kiss, their worst fear is confirmed. This wasn’t a mugging, or someone trying to scare you. No, this man had nefarious plans, and if Layla and her friends weren’t nearby, this would have ended so much worse.
“Thank you,” the officer says, pulling you out of your swirling thoughts. “We have your contact information and we’ll be in touch with any updates or further questions.”
Colleen speaks next, saying, “Let’s get you taken care of so you can get home, hm?”
“Sounds good to me,” you reply, comforted by her calm and straightforward demeanor. 
“Which hospital?” Harry asks, and after hearing the reply, says, “Great, I’ll meet you guys there.”
The next few hours are a blur, and yet also pass in slow motion. Even with Harry pulling strings, it takes forever to get the tests and scans needed. And while you get the good news that you don’t have a concussion, it turns out your arm is worse than expected.
You have what you’re told is called a Galezzi fracture, so not only is the bone broken, but there’s a dislocation at your wrist as well. The worst part is that this requires surgery to fix. But at least it’s considered emergent, and after a few more tests, you’re taken into surgery. 
By that evening you find yourself settling into a comfy bed at Harry’s home. You’re quite fuzzy on the details, since the pain meds in the hospital are rather strong, but Mitch explains that your surgery went great and there was no need for you to stay overnight. And apparently Harry insisted that you all stay with him for a little while, since his place is most secure. 
It’s not even dinnertime, and yet you’re exhausted. Mitch helps you settle in bed and says, “Get some rest. I might run to the store to grab ingredients to make grandma’s soup, but I shouldn’t be gone long, and Harry is downstairs if you need him.”
It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep, and you’re completely unaware of the conversation happening downstairs.
“Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?” Mitch asks, sitting down at the kitchen table across from Harry who’s sipping a cup of tea.
“Yea, of course,” Harry replies.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for all of your help since last night. But you’ve really gone out of your way for me and Y/N. I mean, coming with me, staying with us all night at the hospital, and now having us stay with you? It’s very kind of you, but it’s also a lot. It’s more than I could expect.”
“Mitch, I don’t mind at all. It’s truly not a bother. I have the means to help, and, well I care about you and Y/N.”
They sit quietly for a moment, then Mitch says, “Y/N likes you. The only reason I’m telling you is because those drugs they gave her are pretty strong and I’m almost positive she’s going to spill the beans in the next day or two. But she does. You were her celebrity crush, and she swears that she doesn’t see you the same way anymore. But now I think it’s just a normal crush on a guy she’s friends with. And here you are, as a knight in shining armor, taking care of her after a traumatic experience. I just don’t want her getting hurt.”
“I promise, I would never hurt her,” Harry says emphatically. 
“I know. I also know that I’d kill you if you ever did. I don’t care that you are my friend and my boss.”
“I would expect nothing less,” Harry says, thinking of his own sister and how he’d react in that situation.
“Just, let her down easy, okay?”
Harry is silent again before finally asking, “Can I be honest here?”
“Of course,” Mitch says, curious to hear what comes next.
“I uhm, I like Y/N too. I know that she’s my best friend's sister and all, but I’ve liked her since that first time she visited the studio. But my life is so complicated right now, and I’ve been trying to keep my distance and keep my feelings at bay, but they’re definitely there. I just don’t know what to do.”
“Take me out of the equation,” Mitch says. “I know people say not to date friend’s siblings, but don’t let me hold you back. Obviously I wouldn’t recommend asking her out until she’s recovered from this situation, and you should figure out if it could work with the tour you’re planning. But, I think you’re a good guy. And, uh, I think you and Y/N could be happy together.” 
Silence falls over the pair again. Seeing that Harry is deep in thought, Mitch says, “I’ll let you ponder on that a bit. Is it okay if I run to the store? I told Y/N that you’d be here if she needs anything.”
“Absolutely, of course that’s fine. See you in a bit.”
Harry continues to sit at the table, after Mitch has left, after he’s finished his tea; he sits there and thinks about the conversation with Mitch.
The only thing to break him out of his reveries is the sound of someone in distress. He stands up and immediately heads to the stairs, running up them two at a time when he hears you cry out again. He walks into the bedroom at the exact moment when you finally wake up from your nightmare. 
For a moment he stands there, waiting for you to indicate what you need. At the same time you freeze, reorienting to where you are. Once your brain finally catches up, you reach out to Harry with your good arm. He understands your request for comfort and sits next to you, carefully helping you shift so you can settle in his arms. 
He holds you gently, wiping away the tears that have started falling once again. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You’re okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you, love.” You slowly relax until you’re able to fall back to sleep, cuddled against Harry. 
When Mitch arrives home he unloads the groceries and promptly checks on you. He’s surprised to see Harry in bed with you and whispers, “Everything alright?”
Harry nods and replies, “Yea, she had a bad dream but she’s good now.”
“Alright, I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”
Mitch leaves, and Harry continues to hold you, imagining what it would be like to be able to wrap his arms around you in better circumstances. 
He desires a relationship with you, has for months now. But he knows it wouldn’t be fair to start something when he’s planning to travel so much so soon. He can’t ask you to leave school and come with him, but he can’t leave you behind. 
As you continue to sleep, he comes to the conclusion that the time isn’t right. He’ll release his album, do his tour, and then he can ask you out.
It’s a smart decision. But it’s one he’ll regret for years to come. 
Early the next year, Harry is busier than ever, getting everything ready for his album release. He’s put together a band that he’s excited to perform with, each member showing extreme talent while still remaining down to earth. 
Your arm has healed, but the nature of the injury has made your left hand weaker. No matter how much you try, you can’t play guitar the way you used to. You simply don’t have enough strength in your left hand to press down hard enough on the strings to make the clear sound needed.
You spend time at the studio, watching the band practice and then practicing yourself when they finish. Mitch stays with you, trying to help you retrain your hand, but even with the physical therapy you’ve been doing, you just can’t get it. 
The others are aware of your struggle as well, and all give encouragement. But it’s Sarah who does more and says, “Have you tried drums? You don't need quite as much strength in your fingers, just need to be able to hold the sticks. 
The three of you stay for hours that evening as Mitch and Sarah work together to teach you the basics. It’s fun, and therapeutic, and you can’t help but feel that you may be playing matchmaker. You know your brother, and it’s easy to see the way he looks at Sarah, how he acts around her. 
And from what you can tell, Sarah feels the same way. You admit you’d love for that to be true. Sarah is so nice, and always makes you feel at ease. You wouldn’t mind having her join the family, and it would be nice to finally have another girl around. 
But as always, the next journey begins. Harry, Mitch, and all the others have a busy year ahead of them. 
They leave to travel the world and play concerts for all of Harry’s adoring fans. You dive into your studies, and by the end of the fall semester of sophomore year, you’re happy to report to Mitch that you have a boyfriend. 
It’s amazing how quickly time can fly. Life has changed throughout your time in college, and you’re now in the fall semester of senior year. 
Mitch has helped Harry with his second album, which will be released in just a couple of months. Just like last time, you occasionally got to hear songs as they were being written, giving feedback but mostly being amazed. 
Unfortunately, your boyfriend was not all that happy with you spending time at the studio. After nearly two years together, his bad side reared its ugly head, in the most unexpected way. The last thing you thought you’d see when bringing coffee to his dorm was him in bed with another girl. And yet, that’s exactly what you walked in on.
The fight that ensues isn’t pretty, and it ends with you single and heartbroken, immediately making your way to the studio where Harry and his band are rehearsing. 
“What’s wrong?” Mitch asks the second you walk in.
“Nothing,” you state, clearly lying.
“Liar,” Mitch replies.
“I broke up with Aaron.”
At this news, Mitch and Sarah sit on either side of you on the couch. The rest of the band heads to another room to take a break. And Harry, well, he seems busy, fiddling with a notebook nearby.
“What happened, love?” Sarah asks as she wraps an arm around your shoulders, God, you’re grateful to have her in your life right now.
“I caught him in bed with another girl,” you explain.
If you weren’t so upset, Mitch and Harry’s reactions would probably be comical. 
“He did what?” they shout in unison, clearly outraged on your behalf. You expected this from your brother, but you’re thrown by how angry Harry is. 
“I was bringing him coffee, because he said he was working on a project. That ‘project’ ended up being named Margo. And it turns out he lied to her because she was very surprised to find out there was a girlfriend. So he’s the only asshole here. Margo punched him in the dick, so that was appreciated.”
“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” Sarah says.
You want to brush it off, say you’re fine. But it’s not. “Two years together and he just goes and does this? I mean, I thought he was the one! That we’d get married and have kids and all that shit. And now I have to start over?”
“At least you found the truth now before wasting any of your time,” Sarah says.
“You’re young, you have plenty of time to find someone who isn’t a total dick,” Mitch adds. 
“Ugh, I guess you’re right. But,” you pause, collecting your thoughts before saying, “But why wasn’t I enough for him?”
“Hey, don’t even think like that,” Harry says. “You are more than enough. He isn’t good enough for you, you understand me?”
Once again taken aback by his intensity, you nod to show that you’re listening. 
“C’mon, let’s go,” Harry says.
“What? Go where? You guys are in the middle of rehearsal.”
“We rehearsed all day yesterday, we’ll rehearse all day tomorrow. We can end a bit early today. I bet everyone could use a night off. We’ll go out, get some food, get some drinks, it’ll be fun!” 
And that’s how you find yourself in the middle of an L.A. nightclub on a Thursday night, grateful that your schedule for this semester does not include any Friday classes. Because while the night starts pretty tame, things… escalate.
You’re newly 21, and heartbroken, and you’ve had drinks in hand all night, though you haven’t bought a single one for yourself. It’s the perfect formula for things to get crazy. 
Mitch and Sarah head out after a couple hours. They worry about leaving you, but you reassure them a dozen times that you’ll be fine, and Harry tells them he’ll keep an eye on you. That’s enough for them to leave you alone with Harry. In your tipsy state you admit to yourself that this is, in fact, the desired outcome.
You thought you’d gotten over this crush years ago, but being here with him, recently single and a few drinks deep, you know that was a lie. You’d simply pushed down your feelings, told yourself you only liked him as a friend.
And then a song comes on that you love, and you pull Harry out to the dance floor. He goes willingly, happy that you’re no longer in a relationship and he doesn’t need to feel bad about being attracted to you. He hasn’t had much to drink, since his goal for the night is to make sure you’re safe and having a good time, but he’s had enough to feel a little loose. 
Which explains why his hands find your waist just seconds after yours loop around his neck. He pulls you close, until you’re nearly flush against him. The two of you get lost in the music, moving together to the beat, unaware that you’re pulling each other closer. 
It isn’t until his lips brush against yours that you realize your proximity. But neither of you pull away. Instead, Harry presses forward, his lips meeting yours in a surprisingly sweet kiss. It only lasts a second and then he’s gone, stepping back and saying, “We shouldn’t.”
You know he’s right, and part of you feels rejected. But another part of you rejoices in the fact that he kissed you. Not the other way around. Your mind wanders with possibilities, the possibility that he likes you, that he finds you attractive. Maybe he really does want you, but he’s being a gentleman. Afterall, you’ve been drinking, and you just got broken up with. 
This theory is backed by the fact that he still has a hand on your waist, making sure he remains in contact even just a little bit. 
“It’s getting late. We should get going,” he says next.
You pout and say, “Don’t wanna go back to my dorm.”
“Mitch and Sarah’s then?” He suggests.
“So I can see them being annoyingly in love? I’d rather not.”
“Okay. Do you want to stay in my guest room?” he asks, and you light up at the suggestion.
“Yes, please!” you say excitedly. You’ve spent some time at his place, having slept in that bed before after events at his house, and it’s the comfiest, coziest bed you’ve ever slept in. It’s exactly where you want to end this long, emotional day.
Harry picks up his phone and after a minute, says, “Cars on it’s way. Let’s get some water and head outside.” You follow his lead and soon find yourself next to him in the back of a luxurious car. You’re starting to get sleepy, and without thinking about it, you rest your head on Harry’s shoulder. With your eyes now closed, you miss the warm smile that spreads across his face at the gesture. 
A little while later you arrive at his house, and he wraps an arm around you to help you inside. He briefly ducks into his room and comes back with some clothes for you to wear to bed. 
“Go get ready, I’m gonna grab a couple things and leave them in the guest room for you,” he says. 
You go to the hallway bathroom to get changed and do a cut back version of your bedtime routine. When you get to the room, Harry is there placing water, snacks, and some painkillers on the bedside table. Noticing you look at him he says, “Just in case you need anything,” as explanation. “I’ll be in my room if there’s anything else you need.”
He goes to leave but you ask, “Can you stay? For a little while, I mean. Just until I fall asleep?”
His face goes soft at the request, and he replies, “Of course, love.”
You climb into bed, surrounded by the softest blankets in the world. Harry sits on top of the covers, his hand moving to stroke your hair until you quickly fall asleep. He stays for a little bit to make sure you’re really out, then presses a barely there kiss to your head before pulling himself away and going to his own room.
The next morning you wake up feeling better than you should considering how hard you went the night before. You still eat the granola bar that Harry left and take the pain relievers, downing the rest of the water as you do so. 
You sit there and can’t help but think about all the people who would kill to be in your position. Relaxing in Harry Styles’ bed, having kissed him the night before. God, you cannot believe you and Harry had actually kissed. You’d been single mere hours and already kissed another man. 
You’re conflicted by this. You’d spent years with Aaron, thought he was the man you’re going to marry. But you have to be honest, there was always a part of you that remained attracted to Harry. You know that you probably would have left Aaron if you had any chance with Harry, and that leaves you feeling incredibly guilty. 
Picking up your phone you see a number of texts and missed calls from Mitch. Without even reading through everything you text him saying, “I’m fine, crashed at Harry’s. Can you come pick me up?”
He replies, “On my way,” almost immediately. 
You wait a few minutes before heading downstairs, knowing you’ll see Harry but now knowing what to say. You finally suck it up and leave the guest room, bumping into him almost immediately in the hallway.
“Hey. Good morning. How are you feeling?” he says.
“Good, I’m good. Thanks for looking out for me last night. It was fun.”
“Yea, it was a good night. Can I make you some breakfast?” 
“Oh, that’s okay. Mitch will be here in a couple of minutes,” you reply. 
“Got it. That’s good then.”
The two of you stand there awkwardly, more timid around each other than usual. You can only assume he’s ignoring the kiss that happened just like you are. 
Thankfully your phone dings with a message that your brother is there.
“Guess I should get going,” you say.
“Of course, I’ll let you out.”
Harry walks with you to the front door, but before he opens it he turns to you and says, “I know it’s hard to heal from a breakup, so just, you know- I’m always here for you. If you need anything.”
It’s shockingly earnest, and takes you by surprise. This man who is more busy than anyone you know, willing to help you through a broken heart. You don’t know what to say so you just wrap your arms around his neck in a quick hug. He’s barely returned the gesture when you pull away, thanking him once again and heading out the door and into your brother’s car. 
Mitch waves to Harry as you buckle your seatbelt, and once you’re ready, he starts driving. 
“So what happened last night?” he asks. 
“Nothing.” 
“Y/N.” 
“I mean, not nothing. But like, nothing to worry about. So don’t worry about it.”
“Okay well now I am worrying.”
“It’s fine!” 
Silence falls over the two of you, an awkward air permeating the car. It wears you down, and finally you break and exclaim, “Okay, fine! Harry and I kissed! But just like, a little bit. So tiny. Like, blink and you miss it. So it’s no big deal, got it?”
“Oh shit,” is his only reply.
The silence is back, and has you feeling restless. 
“Mitch?”
“Yea?”
“Are you mad?” you ask.
“What? No,” he answers immediately. “I’m not mad. But you just had your heart broken. And any relationship with Harry would be complicated, especially a rebound.”
“He’s not a rebound! I like him. It was just one kiss. That’s all. I don’t plan on going further, I swear.”
“Okay. Did you have breakfast? I can make pancakes.”
“Pancakes sound good,” you answer, once again grateful for your brother who knows exactly how to support you through anything. 
Pancakes with Mitch and Sarah are just what you need. And when you do go back to campus and tell your friends what happened, they help you even more by cursing Aaron’s name, saying they’ll make sure word gets out that he’s a cheater.
You move on from that relationship, but no one new catches your eye. You’re finishing your second to last semester at college, starting to focus on job hunting, and spending time with your brother, Harry, and the band before Fine Line’s release in December.
They’re busy of course, but take a break for the holidays before picking things back up in the new year. You’re prepared to say goodbye to them for months, so it comes as a shock when a pandemic shuts down the world and leads to you moving in with Mitch and Sarah when your dorm closes. 
After only a couple weeks Harry moves in as well. He’d been living alone in his big house and you all knew it was weighing on him. He is clearly relieved to be staying with people, and the four of you make the most of this time in lockdown. 
Since the house isn’t that big, Harry ends up sleeping on the pull out couch in the living room. This naturally leads to the two of you spending a lot of late evenings together watching movies after Mitch and Sarah have called it a night. You guys both make fun of them for becoming an old married couple, but they clearly don’t mind the teasing.
You and Harry grow even closer during this time. Since your classes have switched to online, and Harry rarely has anything scheduled, you tend to stay up late talking about anything and everything. 
May comes, the world still shut down, and you officially graduate college. Mitch, Sarah, and Harry manage to surprise you with a graduation celebration to mark the big occasion. As always, you and Harry stay up late, talking about hopes and dreams and big plans. All the things that a graduation has people thinking about.
It’s even later than usual, and you and Harry end up sliding closer and closer as the minutes tick by. Just like the time at the club, you don’t notice how close you’ve gotten until you feel Harry’s breath ghost across your skin. 
This time you do pull back, just enough to look in Harry’s eyes and confirm he wants this too. When you see the determination there, you lean in again. There’s a slight pause, just enough to build the tension, and then your lips brush. 
And then you hear a noise, jumping back a second before Sarah walks in the room. The three of you look at each other, no one speaking a word for an agonizingly long time.
“Just grabbing some water,” Sarah says as she walks to the kitchen. 
When she walks back through the living room to go upstairs you feel you need to explain and say, “We were just talking. Lost track of time.”
“I’m sure you did,” she replies with a knowing smirk before she walks away. 
The moment having passed, you say, “I should probably get to bed.”
“I guess so,” Harry answers as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. The gentle contact makes you blush and he says, “Good night, Y/N.”
“Good night, Harry,” you reply.
You lay in bed, thinking about how close you came to kissing once again. It was clear he wanted it, and there was no alcohol to blame this time. You’ve been single for months, you start a totally virtual job soon, and all the reasons for staying away from Harry in the past, don’t seem like reasons anymore. 
You remember years ago promising Mitch you would never ask Harry out, but now you’re determined to break that promise. Your brother will understand. You hope.
The next day Sarah invites you and Harry to join her and Mitch on a walk. You decline, saying you planned to facetime with your mom. Harry decides to stay home as well, claiming he needs to catch up on some emails he’s been putting off.
You ignore the knowing smirk that Sarah once again sends to the two of you, grateful that Mitch still seems oblivious. 
Once you and Harry are alone in the house he asks if the two of you can talk.
Seated at the kitchen table, mugs of tea in hand, Harry begins. “I don’t really know how to say this. But I feel like I should just be honest.”
He pauses, and your mind swirls with what it is he’s going to be honest about. 
He takes a large breath, exhaling loudly before saying, “I like you. Have for a while. You just- you’re one of my favorite people to hang out with, and you’re so smart, and kind, and funny, not to mention talented and so, so pretty. And if you’ll agree, I’d love to take you out on a proper date.”
You sit there, eyes wide and mouth slightly open in shock. Sure, you were just last night thinking all those things about Harry, but to find out he feels the same way as you? Even with the sweet moments and the chemistry you’ve been feeling, this admission still hits you like it came out of thin air.
Harry starts to squirm and you realize you should probably answer him. You compose yourself and manage to say, “Yes. A proper date. That sounds lovely. And, uhm, I like you too.” The end comes out at barely a whisper, but you know Harry hears it as he smiles so big both dimples appear on his cheeks. 
But then a thought occurs to you, and you ask, “How are we doing a proper date in a pandemic? We can’t go out anywhere.”
“Don’t worry about that, I have a plan,” he says with a pleased expression. 
And that, the fact that he’s obviously put thought into this, proves that he’s felt this way for a while, just like you have. 
“Then I’m looking forward to it,” you reply.
“How about tonight?” He asks.
You’re surprised by that, and he must notice because he backtracks and says, “Or we can wait a couple days. I don’t mean to rush you, I just, we’ve waited so long-”
You cut him off and say, “Tonight is perfect.” You agree, enough of waiting around. 
“Wonderful! Then it’s a date.”
“It’s a date,” you confirm. 
The two of you finish your tea in companionable silence before you get up to actually call your mom as you’d promised her. 
For the rest of the day you can’t help but wonder what Harry’s plan is. He does tell you to get a little dressy, so you spend much of the afternoon getting ready. Harry leaves for a couple hours and goes back to his house, leaving you with a very nosy Mitch and Sarah.
They know something is going on between the two of you, and keep asking questions, but you repeatedly brush them off. Truthfully you don’t have many details to give. 
When Harry gets back he’s dressed in slacks and a blouse, one of your favorite looks on him. It’s the perfect combination of casual and fancy, just enough buttons undone to tease. He’s holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers, which Sarah helps you find a vase for. While the two of you are busy with that, Mitch takes Harry aside to give the typical big brother talk. 
Finally, Harry is leading you out to the car, Mitch and Sarah watching on like proud parents. Harry continues to keep the plan a secret, so you’re curious when he pulls into the driveway of his home. He parks the car and comes to open your door like a true gentleman. 
The two of you walk through the house and out to the back patio, where you see the beautiful surprise Harry has planned for you. He’s decorated the whole area, a bottle of wine ready on the table, and he explains that dinner he’s prepared.
He pulls out your chair and helps you settle in before bringing out appetizers. All of the food is delicious, and you enjoy every minute of the meal. There's a moment as you cut your food that your left hand slips a bit, never having regained full strength after the attack your freshman year. Noticing this, Harry quickly reaches over to finish the task for you before gently reaching out to hold your hand, his thumb stroking over the scar from your surgery. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t bring it up, but comforts you all the same. 
The rest of the meal passes without incident, and the sun sets just as you’re eating dessert. It’s perfect, and romantic, and truly is the best date you’ve ever been on. The night ends in Harry’s bed, both of you too impatient to wait any longer after years of wanting one another. 
Since you and Harry have been friends for so long, it only feels natural to slip into this new relationship status of boyfriend and girlfriend. You start spending more and more time at Harry’s house, which apparently gives Mitch and Sarah more alone time together, since at the end of summer they share the news that Sarah is pregnant. 
The next three years are the most exciting whirlwind for all of you. Mitch and Sarah get married, then have a baby just days after they all perform together for the Grammys. Love on Tour begins a few months later, and you're so excited that your remote job allows you to travel with them for every show. 
Sarah makes sure you know all of her parts, making you her backup in case something happens and she needs to miss a show. You’re confident that won’t happen, and then one night, it does. 
It’s August 2022, night 5 at Madison Square Garden in New York City. Sarah comes down with what seems to be a nasty bout of food poisoning, and you’re asked to perform for her. You sit backstage before show time, an absolute mess of nerves. But then Mitch comes and sits with you, quietly hyping you up. The two of you sit and talk about playing music together when you were kids, and soon enough your nerves switch to excitement. 
Harry asks that you stop by his dressing room before going on stage. When you stop in he wraps you in his arms, telling you how happy he is that you’ll be out there with them. Having him be so confident in you and your skills boosts your energy even more, and you can’t wait to get out there.
The show goes perfectly, and Harry gives you a special shout out during the band intros, thanking you for filling in. Hundreds, possibly thousands of cameras film the interaction, which is why it’s no surprise that people are making theories about your relationship with Harry by the next day. You’d managed to keep the fact that you’re dating a secret for two years now, but the look he gives you on stage is undeniable. The truth that Harry is dating his guitarist/best friend’s sister is out, and honestly, you’re relieved. Especially since people seem to be happy about it, and have apparently some fans even shipped the two of you together before. 
With the success of that show, Harry asks you to fill in for Sarah on the entire Australia and Asia leg of tour. She and Mitch are taking a break, focusing on other projects and giving their now two year old a break from traveling for a bit. 
Now that people know you and Harry are dating, you’re nervous that they might think you got this gig because of that. Luckily it seems most people are just saying that Harry is lucky to have found the Rowlands, since they seem to be a very talented family. And well, that’s the best compliment you could have ever hoped for. 
You now better understand the post-concert adrenaline Harry always has, and truthfully, your sex life has only benefited from this development. 
There’s a part of you that’s sad that you won’t be on stage with Harry for the last leg of tour, but that feeling fades away the second he comes out on stage in Denmark and you get to watch in amazement once again. You’re especially glad to be in the audience for Slane Castle, and Wembley, and most importantly, Italy. 
The pride you feel watching him up there is overwhelming. The years that you’ve been together have been the happiest of your life, and you feel so much love for him. 
Which is why, two days later, when he gets down on one knee and asks you to marry him, there’s no question. You immediately say yes.
While the last two years have been all about tour, the next few years are all about building your lives together. You get married in a small ceremony, just family and close friends. Watching Mitch and Sarah’s son interact with Gemma’s baby girl practically kick starts your biological clock. 
You and Harry make sure to enjoy the honeymoon phase for a while, but the desire to become parents grows more and more every day. When you decide to start trying it doesn’t happen right away, but after a few months, you excitedly call him into your room.
He finds you sitting on the edge of the bed, smiling and holding what is clearly a pregnancy test.
“Is it? Are you?” he asks.
“I’m pregnant,” you confirm and immediately he begins to cry and smile all at once, wrapping you in his arms and holding you tight.
“I love you so much,” he says before sliding to kneel on the floor. He places his hands on your hips and looks at your belly before saying, “And I love you too, little one.” It’s when he places a kiss on your stomach that you finally start to cry happy tears as well. 
Neither of you can wait to tell your families, who are ecstatic by the news as well. The biggest surprise is when you tell Mitch and Sarah, who share that Sarah is pregnant as well. Knowing that your child will grow up with cousins so close in age sends you into another bit of hormone induced happy tears.
The surprises continue when you go to your first OB appointment, and you learn that you’re having twins. And when you learn a couple months later that they’re both girls, Harry quickly settles in his role as a girl dad.
As expected, he is the best partner through all of this. He gets any craving you may have, does the hard work around the house, does anything and everything he can to help you be as comfortable as possible. He never stops telling you how beautiful you are, even when you’re six months along with two babies and feeling like a beached whale. 
You talk to Gemma and Sarah nearly every day, getting advice and reassurance from them, especially as you get closer to actually giving birth. Sarah has her baby just as you get to seven months and holding your new nephew in your arms is like a reality check that you’ll have two of these little ones in just a few weeks.
Harry continues to support you however he can, but as the weeks go by you start to admit that you’re just going to live in this discomfort until the babies are here. You just remind yourself that each day of heartburn and back pain is another day your babies get to cook inside you. 
When you do go into labor at 36 weeks, Harry remains calm and steady. His presence is grounding, and he gives you the strength to give birth to two beautiful and healthy baby girls. 
A few weeks later your house is full, both yours and Harry’s families there to visit. Some people might find it overwhelming, but in this moment, you’re simply filled with joy. You watch as Harry holds his niece, Gemma and Sarah each have one of your babies, and your parents entertain Mitch and Sarah’s sons. It’s crazy, and chaotic, and it’s like a dream you never knew you had has now come true. 
Mitch sits next to you, not saying anything, but putting an arm around your shoulders for a moment. He doesn’t need any words for you to know he’s taking it all in too. You’re grateful to have him by your side. Your big brother, your protector, and most importantly, your best friend. 
Harry hands his niece off to his mother and sits on your other side. Mitch smiles, gives you one last squeeze and goes to play with his toddler. Harry presses a kiss to your head and you sink into his side. You can’t help but feel like the luckiest person in the world to experience all this love.
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AN: Thank you so much for reading! I really loved writing this one. Side note, chose that picture because I love smiley Harry, but also, love smiley Mitch in the background.
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duckybarnes1917 · 2 days ago
Text
Bad Idea, Right?
18+ Only
Ex-boyfriend! Gojo x Reader
Summary: You left Gojo Satoru for a reason. He wasn't reliable. He wasn't serious about building a future together. He was always gone. But one thing he was...amazing in bed. Much better than your new husband. Could anyone really blame you for falling back into his bed just one more time?
Warnings: The only actual trigger warning is this fic contains cheating. Reader is cheating on her husband with Gojo. It's angsty. Other than that...it's smut...be pleasantly surprised 😘
AN: This is my first time writing in the JJK fandom! I just finished season 1 a couple of days ago so this fic is based on limited knowledge of the characters! Happy Valentine's Day! Oh and I took liberties with the powers and such!
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Thinking about ex-boyfriend Gojo, who you can’t help but call. Dealing with his infuriatingly cocky attitude is worth it for the way he fucks you like no one else can. Every time you fell into his bed, you swore it wouldn’t happen again, especially now that you were newly married. You didn’t love your new husband, but he was rich, and he took care of you. You married him hoping to secure a future for yourself–and hoping the sex would get better–you could teach him, right? Gojo wasn’t that special– right?
Wrong. 
It had been a month since you got married and as many times as you tried to teach your new husband what you liked, what turned you on, he just couldn’t get it right. Tonight had been your last straw, you had tried so hard to be patient. He was doing better, but he had finished before you got off. And then had the audacity to fall asleep. 
You shot a glare his way as you climbed out of bed noisily and slunk off to the bathroom. The door slammed behind you and you waited for any kind of response. You got nothing from the other side of the door but more heavy snores.
The drawer across the bathroom, where you kept your toys, was calling your name. You knew it wouldn’t be the same, but what choice did you have? Maybe if you set the mood, it would be better. You turned off the overhead light, lit a candle, and listened to soft music on your phone. Still, you stared at the toys in the drawer with disappointment. Your most trusted wand was waiting for you on top, and you sighed as you picked it up. 
You tried to block him, to picture anyone else except for him as you worked the toy over your sensitive flesh. But there was no one else. And you were too close to the edge to care anymore. You let him flood your thoughts. His hands, his scent, his voice, his mouth–the toy died in your hand and you let out a groan of despair. 
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding,” you nearly yelled in frustration. No, you were beyond frustrated. You were aching, and desperate, and only one name was running through your mind. 
“Fuck it,” you muttered to yourself as you grabbed your phone off the counter and opened his contact. The last message from him was dated a little over a month ago. A slight tickle of shame nagged at you, but your fingers pressed on. 
You up?
His typing bubble appeared immediately. And you bit your lip anxiously, excitedly, as you waited for his response.
Be there in 5 minutes. 
Maybe less.
You rolled your eyes at the fact that he didn’t even try to pretend you were texting him for anything else. Despite your annoyance, your body clenched in anticipation. You bent over the sink to splash cold water on your face–you couldn’t stand to face him so achingly desperate, you needed to cool down. Just as you were thinking you should probably go wait for him on the porch–because he was obnoxious enough to ring the doorbell at three in the morning–he suddenly appeared behind you in the mirror, that obnoxious grin on his face. His big hand covered your mouth before you could scream. 
“Don’t want to wake hubby before I even get you off,” Gojo teased in your ear before he let you go and spun you around to face him. 
He wore his familiar deep blue-black uniform, a black blindfold over his eyes that held his white hair perfectly in place. He always towered over you, but you felt smaller than usual in nothing but your robe, looking up at him from where he was caging you against the marble sink. Even in your dark bathroom, with only the light of one candle to guide your sight, his beauty still struck you in all the right places. 
“Fuck you,” you huffed as you pushed his chest. He didn’t move, unaffected by your attempt.
He grabbed your wrist before you could pull it back. “Well, hello to you too.” He leaned in closer, his grin spreading wider and you held your breath, prepared for his lips to meet yours. But he pulled back quickly and moved next to you to lean against the counter. 
“So,” he dragged the word out as he crossed his arms. “What's up?” He could barely keep the smile off his face as he toyed with you. 
“Satoru,” you crossed your arms, mirroring him. 
He simply raised one arched white brow, waiting. Was he really going to make you say it? Asshole. 
“You know why I called you,” you grumbled. 
He tapped his chin with one long finger, humming in thought. “A chat? Is your dishwasher broken again? Oh, I know,” he snapped his long fingers and jumped up from the counter. You winced at the volume of his voice. “You want a rematch on Mario Kart! Sore loser.” 
“Shut up,” you hissed, anxiously glancing at the bathroom door, “dumbass.” You were starting to regret this already. 
“Would it have anything to do with this?” 
You turned back to him and found that he had moved to the other end of the counter where you had left your drawer open, your failed toy now in his hand.
“Hey, don’t touch my stuff!” You moved to snatch it back from him, but of course, he easily moved it out of your reach.
 He waved it tauntingly at you before he pushed the button to turn it on. 
“Doesn’t work very well,” he fake pouted. “Need some help?”
You swallowed your desire to fight him. “Yes,” you answered, just barely above a whisper. 
“Sorry, didn’t catch that sweets.” Gojo leaned down as if to hear you better. 
You clenched your hands into fists. “I called you because I thought you would get me off, not talk my ear off.” 
“What do you take me for?” Gojo straightened himself, his hand on his chest. “I’m not a whore, you could have at least made me dinner first.” 
“Seriously, Satoru, fuck you. I don’t even–”
“Where?” He cut you off and tilted his head as if he was thinking about it. The playfulness was seeping away as he stepped closer to you. “Should I fuck you right here, keep you quiet so your husband doesn’t hear?” The word husband rolled off his tongue with a mixture of annoyance and glee that you knew meant he was getting off on this more than he should be. “Or take you back to my place so you can be as loud as you want?” 
Your mouth opened to answer him, to give him the only logical answer, but no sound came out. You hated this effect he had on you. 
“What do you want, sweets?” He moved closer, lifting you with ease onto the bathroom sink. His fingers trailed up your thigh under your robe and you opened your legs for him, trying to force him to make the decision. You were not in the mood to think right now. 
He smirked and moved his fingers teasingly up your inner thigh and over your hip instead of where you wanted him.
“Toru,” you pouted, too wound up for his teasing. “I want your mouth–please,” you added on the please to try to win him over. The word felt like broken glass in your mouth.
Gojo’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, and you nearly whined. 
“Here’s what we’re gonna do, sweets.” Gojo leaned in and placed his lips at your ear as his fingers finally started to explore where you needed him most. He paused, losing his words for a moment, and you felt your cheeks heat at how wet he found you–how needy. 
He cleared his throat once and continued, “You’re gonna come on my fingers like a good girl right here in this room next to your sleeping husband. And then I’ll take you home and fuck you however I want for as long as I want.” 
His long fingers were already inside of you–you would have agreed to anything he said. You nodded your head frantically as you gripped his shoulder. “More, faster,” you were trying to be quiet, but when he added a third finger, the sound that came out of your mouth was foreign to your ears. 
“Fuck, I like you desperate,” Gojo’s voice was husky in your ear. All traces of his playful attitude were gone as he expertly crooked his long fingers inside you.   
“I’m close,” you gasped. “Don’t stop.” 
“Already?” He teased. “He’s not taking care of my pretty little pussy at all, is he?” 
You wanted to argue with him. No part of you was his . But you both knew you would have been lying. Your head hit the bathroom cabinet as your hips arched up, trying to get even closer to him. You covered your mouth as you came on his fingers. His smooth voice faded in and out, praising you as your ears rang. Before you could come back down to earth, your surroundings shifted as he teleported you both to his apartment. 
Your back hit his soft bed, and you immediately reached for him, pulling him closer to you as you devoured his mouth. He tasted sweet, and you imagined he had been eating candy before he appeared in your home. His tongue worked against yours deliberately, sliding across the roof of your mouth and you knew he was teasing you on purpose. You wrapped your legs around his waist and moved your hands to his face. The sticky substance your hand came into contact with on his cheek made you pause and pull back. 
“Toru, what the fuck?” You sat up as he began laughing. He flipped on the light and you gasped at the blood on your hand and over his face. “What the fuck?!” 
You jumped off the bed and ran to his bathroom. He was still laughing as he followed you. 
“It’s just a little blood. Don’t freak out. I was working when you called.” 
You scrubbed your hands furiously in the sink as you glared at him in the mirror. “Why the fuck would you answer your phone if you were on a mission?!” 
Gojo wasn’t fighting. He was sitting with his back against a tree trunk, long legs stretched in front of him and a bag of sour candy in his hand. He watched his students work together to exorcise a curse. It was well within their ability to handle it, with a little guidance from him. He had already handled the more serious threats–it got a little messy, but it was easy work. 
He smiled proudly as Itadori landed a skilled hit. Then his phone buzzed, and he glanced at it quickly. It was probably just Ijichi asking for an update on the reports he was behind on. He had to do a double-take to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating your name on his screen. 
Nope. 
Not crazy. 
It was you. 
“YES!!” He yelled, jumping to his feet and pumping his fist in the air. 
“What is it?!” Itadori yelled from across the field, blocking an attack, as he looked back at Gojo with concern. 
“Gotta go! You got this team!” 
“What?!” Itadori and Kugisaki yelled. “Where are you going?!” 
“Don’t bother asking,” Fushiguro said with the knowledge of someone who had spent plenty of time dealing with Gojo and his antics. 
“You’ll understand when you’re older, bye! Proud of you!” Gojo gave them one last wave before he disappeared. They’d be fine. He had waited too long for this…okay like a month.. but still that was much too long. 
  “It wasn’t a big deal. My students are taking care of it,” Gojo shrugged.
“Jesus,” you muttered as you wrung out a washcloth and turned to clean his face. “I could have waited.” 
“Please,” Gojo scoffed as he took the washcloth and cleaned the places you were too short to reach on your tiptoes. “You practically came as soon as I touched you.” 
“I really hate you.” 
You snatched the washcloth back from him and threw it on the sink for him to deal with later. The heat of his gaze followed you as you walked back to his bedroom, dropping your robe on the way. 
“I know.” Gojo smiled at you as you laid back on his bed. “Need something, sweets?” 
You groaned and sat up on your elbows to glare at him. “You can not seriously be as unaffected as you pretend to be.” 
You couldn’t see his eyes, hidden under his blindfold, but something shifted momentarily on his face. It made you shiver. 
“I asked you a question.” He crossed his arms as he leaned against the door frame. “Or I can send you back home?” He raised his fingers in threat. 
“No!” You glared at him again. “I need you, Toru. Need your mouth, please.” 
“Good girl,” he smirked but finally made his way to where you lay on his bed. He kissed you gently before trailing his lips down your neck, your chest, and over your stomach. 
This is what you had missed the most about him. His damned mouth was both the bane of your existence and your personal nirvana. Your husband didn’t share Gojo’s talents or desire in that department. The few times he had even offered to go down on you had left you more frustrated than pleased. 
Gojo’s big hands held your hips down as he teased your belly button with his tongue. “Tell me I’m the best.” 
“Wh–what?” You nearly laughed even as you were trying not to moan.  
“You heard me.” His mouth moved lower and goosebumps erupted over your skin as his breath hit your swollen clit. 
“Toru, please,” you breathed out, body tense. 
“Say it.” His fingers entered you slowly, hitting that spot that made your toes curl with ease. 
Fuck him. Seriously. 
“Come on sweets, I’ll make you feel so good, just tell me–”
His breath on your clit had you close already. 
“Fuck! Just—” he blew cool air on your clit and you lifted your hips in desperation. “You’re the best, Toru, fuck , you fuck me so good!” 
“Better than your husband?” 
“Yes!” You pulled on his hair, urging him forward. “So much fucking better it’s not fair.”
His mouth wrapped around your clit, and you came instantly. Thighs shaking around his head as he moaned against you. His tongue replaced his fingers as he drank you up. It truly wasn’t fair how easy this was for him. And how were you ever supposed to move on knowing that this was one text away, anytime you wanted it?
Gojo’s fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thighs, spreading them further apart as he lost himself in you. His once teasing tongue, now filling you so nicely that you were babbling nonsense. Praising him like you never would normally. But you would have said anything to keep his mouth right where it was. The arrogant asshole had the biggest praise kink you had ever seen. 
“It’s so good, Toru,” you whimpered. “You feel so good, fuck!” You buried your hand in his white hair as your hips bucked up, grinding against his face. 
He pulled back, and you whined at the loss of sensation.  
“Aww, you wanna ride my face sweets?” 
You nodded and watched with rapt attention as he stood and undressed himself. He grabbed the high collar of his jacket with his teeth as he yanked the zipper down. The rest of his clothes disappeared just as quickly. You gulped at the sight of his cock, heavy and ready for you. 
“Focus,” Gojo pointed to his face and your eyes snapped up. He laid back on the bed and beckoned you forward. He was beautiful, as always, all lean-toned muscle and ridiculous abs. You could have stared at him for hours, spent even longer worshipping every part of him. But right now, you have one sole purpose. Your eyes moved to your prize. His pretty mouth, smirking at you. “Come on sweets.” His words are honeyed and tempting. 
Hurriedly, you crawled over him until you hovered over his ridiculously handsome face. His hands splayed over your waist, ready to pull you to him. 
“Wait,” you paused him and ran your fingers over his blindfold. “Can I?” 
“Always.” 
You pushed the silk black blindfold off his face, revealing his sparkling blue eyes. They were dilated with hunger that made your thighs clench. 
“You’re so pretty Toru.” 
He didn’t give you time to regret the words. 
“Not as pretty as you, sweets. Now come on, ride my face like I know you’ve been dreaming about.” 
“Cocky bastard,” you muttered as you sat on his face, not giving him a chance to respond. 
Even you had to admit that riding his pretty face, hand buried in that pretty hair, staring into those pretty eyes–he had the right to be cocky. How could anyone else ever compete with this? 
You were close, thighs clenching around his head. You looked back to watch him stroke himself–knowing he needed this too made you come all over his pretty face. 
He groaned against you, moving both his hands to your waist to hold you in place while he fucked you through your orgasm. 
“God, fuck that was good,” you sighed as you slid off of him. You intended to ask for a break, your legs felt like jello and you were sensitive after so many orgasms back to back. But Gojo had other ideas. He flipped you onto your stomach and lifted your hips, he was inside you before you could protest. 
“Fuck sweets,” he groaned, “you feel so good every damn time.” 
His cock was too much. The stretch burned, and his blunt tip hit the perfect spot with every thrust of his hips. 
“Too much–Toru” you gasped as he gave you another sharp thrust. 
“You can take it,” he answered, his body weight falling on you as he ran his tongue over the shell of your ear. His hand wrapped around your throat, two long fingers dipping into your mouth. “ You called me. You’ll take what I give you, yeah sweets?” 
Seriously, fuck him. 
You hummed around his fingers and nodded. 
“Good girl,” he pulled his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop. “Take it, know you need it.” 
He moved his hips faster, and tears pricked at the corner of your eyes. He felt so good–otherworldly. Exactly what you had been craving. You couldn’t breathe, he stole each breath with each thrust of his hips. He leaned over you again and intertwined his hands with yours. You felt his lips as they began a path on your left shoulder, leaving searing kisses down your arm. 
“Fucking perfect. Just being wasted. I’d never let you out of my bed. Mine.” A sloppy kiss followed each word until he reached your wrist. You turned your head to watch him as he kissed the ring on your finger, running his long tongue over it. It was too much, you had to close your eyes as pure pleasure melted your brain. Stars twinkled behind your eyes and you couldn’t stop the tears born of ecstasy anymore. 
“Aww, are you cryin’?” His cocky voice should have made you want to punch him, but you were teetering on the edge of another orgasm. His tongue licked up your tears and you shattered around him. “So good for me, sweets.” 
Gojo pulled out and flipped you onto your back. His gaze devoured you from head to toe before he met your teary eyes again. His fingers brushed your cheek gently. “Need one more, sweets, just one more. You can do that for me, right?” 
You couldn’t speak, you made a small noise of consent and he rewarded you with a smile.
“You’d do anything I asked, wouldn’t you?” He nipped at your skin, tongue teasing your breast while he pushed your thigh up. “So pliant,” he spoke mostly to himself as you closed your eyes and let him slide into you again. “You don’t let him fuck you like this, do you?” 
You knew he was talking about the lack of protection. You also knew the answer he was hoping for and you couldn’t give it to him. You wanted kids, he knew that. Gojo had never offered the security you needed from him–he was always gone, always so flippant about everything. He was never going to be marriage material. That’s why you had left him in the first place. 
You felt his smile fade against your skin as he sat up to look at you. 
“Not yet, but Toru–I’m off the pill. You knew I wanted this.” 
His face darkened, and you saw a hint of anger in his blue eyes. He didn’t say anything as he lifted your leg and put it over his chiseled shoulder. His pace had slowed, but he was hitting those deep spots inside you that only he had explored. Finally, he took a breath and leaned back down to your ear. “Gonna send you back to him full of my cum. Full of my babies.” 
You gasped even as your pussy clenched around him, betraying you. “You can’t,” you tried to argue. 
“You want it, I can feel it.” 
You did want it, both the feeling of him cumming inside you and his kids. But you’d never let him know that second truth. 
“I hate you,” you whimpered against his lips, tears brimming your eyes again. 
“I know, I know, I hate me too.” 
He didn’t give you time to question what that meant. He quickened his pace, fucking you so hard you couldn’t form words if you had tried. 
Your back arched off the bed as you moaned for him. 
“Hold on sweets, not yet.” He lifted you off the bed and held you in his lap. He helped your hips move faster than you could manage on your own. He watched your breasts bounce for a moment, eyes transfixed, before he took one in his warm mouth. Your whole body was so sensitive, you cried out for him and one of his big hands moved to squeeze your free breast. He was messy, a string of saliva connecting him to you as he moved his mouth from your tits to your neck. He was going to leave a bruise, you could feel it. 
“I’m gonna cum,” you gasped. “You have to–I can’t take anymore.”
“I said not yet,” he growled against your throat. “I’m not ready to be done with you. Not yet.”
Me neither. 
You wanted to say. 
I never want to be done with you. 
But you said nothing. You wrapped your arms around his neck and hid your face in his snowy white hair.
Your world shifted, and you gasped as you suddenly found yourself back in your bedroom–in your bed–your husband still peacefully asleep right next to where Gojo was laying you back on your pillow. 
“Toru, what the fuck?!” you whisper-shouted at him as you hit his chest. He simply laughed, loud and annoying. You shot a panicked look at your husband, but he didn’t move at all. 
“Don’t worry, sweets, he won’t bother us.” Gojo put your legs back where they belonged, over his shoulders, and resumed his brutal pace. 
Your headboard rattled, and the sound of his hips snapping against yours filled the room. Still, your husband slept as if nothing was happening. You didn’t question it–Gojo had his ways. You couldn’t possibly think straight with how well he was fucking you, anyway. You dropped your head back and squeezed your eyes closed against the pleasure curling low in your stomach. 
“Do you think about me when he fucks you?” 
“Yes!” you answered with zero hesitation, and you felt him shiver under your hands. “Always you.” 
“I hate you,” he groaned quietly, painfully. 
“I–” you couldn’t think of a response to that line, which usually only came out of your mouth. You couldn’t think of anything but how deep inside you he was. 
“Come on, sweets,” his normal voice was back, cocky and needy. “Come all over my cock.” Gojo’s finger rubbed tight circles on your clit and you groaned. 
“God, fuck, fuck , Jesus !” 
“Say my name,” he panted against your mouth. “Say it, fucking say it.”
Satoru. 
Satoru. 
Satoru! 
You couldn’t stop saying it. 
“I’m cumming,” you gasped, “Toru, fuck!” You continued chanting his name and you could tell he was close, too. His thrusts got sloppy, and he whined in your ear when you pulled his hair. 
“Don’t make me stop,” he groaned, planting sloppy kisses on your neck. 
You should. You absolutely should make him stop. 
“Don’t,” you whimpered, “don’t stop, Toru.” 
“Fuck,” he moved from where he was hiding his face against your neck and pulled your head back to look at him. “Say it. Louder.” 
He was frantic, his eyes so dilated, that you could just barely see a ring of blue. His tongue swiped at your lips in a messy kiss. 
You never stood a chance. 
“Come inside me, Toru. Please. Please, fill me up. Want it, need you.” 
“Fuck yes, take it,” he panted against your lips as he came. “Such a good girl took me so well.” 
You whimpered against his lips as he gave you a few more sloppy kisses before pulling out of you. He laid on his side, propped up on his elbow to smile cockily at you. 
“You’re a sick fuck, you know that.” You glanced over at your husband, who still hadn’t moved. 
Gojo smiled and shrugged his shoulder. “You’ve called me worse.” He swiped his fingers through your folds, pushing his cum back inside and then licking his fingers clean. 
You stared at him in awe and hatred, no words coming out of your mouth. 
“Mmm,” he hummed as he laid his head on your chest. “What a great night. Killed some curses, had amazing sex, and I get to collect on my bet with Kento. I told him you’d cave in less than 6 weeks.”
Heat prickled up your spine. If you hadn’t been so blissfully fucked out, you would have thrown him off of you. You settled for pulling his hair hard until he babbled out an apology. 
“Idiot,” you hissed as you let him go. 
“Kidding,” he rubbed the back of his head as he frowned. “Come on, shower.” 
He hopped out of your bed like nothing was amiss and when you didn’t follow, he came back and picked you up as if you weighed nothing. 
“Sorry, forgot you probably can’t walk right now.” 
Too tired to argue with him any longer, you snuggled against his neck and let him carry you to the shower. You let him bathe you and dress you and carry you back to bed. You were half asleep by the time he laid you down on your pillow. That didn’t stop you from laughing at the sight of him in your robe. He didn’t think to teleport clothes with him. 
“Shush,” Gojo pulled your comforter up to your chin, and you nuzzled against your pillow, inhaling his scent now embedded in the fabric. 
“Thank you,” you whispered as he kissed you. 
“Anytime, sweets.” 
“Last time,” you mumbled. “Go get a girlfriend.” 
“Not likely,” he chuckled. “I’ll wait for you.” 
He meant he’d wait for your next text, for your resolve to break again. That’s it. You wouldn’t let yourself believe anything else. 
You felt him brush your hair back, a whisper of a kiss placed on your temple. 
You reached for him, to pull him closer, but your fist closed around air. You opened your eyes to find him gone, just as quickly as he had appeared.
        Gojo teleported back to his apartment before he said anything else stupid. He should change and go to sleep. But being alone was…hard. The silence in his apartment felt like it was choking him. His laissez-faire attitude worked best with an audience. 
Quickly, he put his uniform back on and secured his blindfold over his eyes. After a quick text to Kento to pay up, he teleported back to the field he had left his students in. Thankfully, they were still there. The curse was almost exorcised. They did not need his help at all. He could make himself feel better by watching their growth and achievements. Or…he could kill something. 
  Gojo removed his blindfold as he let himself float off the ground. The cursed energy that coursed through him built and built as he thought about you. He shouldn’t have gone. He told himself that every time. And every time he left you feeling shitty he told himself that next time he wouldn’t answer. He remembered the way he had literally leaped for joy at your text. Idiot . 
“Gojo?” 
Itadori’s voice from below. He’d be disappointed he didn’t get to finish the job. But Gojo couldn’t stop the cursed energy as it flew from his hands. The curse exploded into a million messy bits with a scream of horror. Gojo winced as blood splattered him from head to toe. He glanced down at the kids. Fushiguro was shaking blood out of his long hair and he could practically see the steam coming out of Kugisaki’s ears. 
“Ice cream?” Gojo asked cheerily, a big fake smile on his face. They ran to him as his feet found the Earth again. 
“Yes!” Itadori exclaimed. 
“What the hell was that?!” Kugisaki yelled, her hands balled into angry fists. 
“Where did you go?” Fushiguro asked quietly as Gojo led the way to the black car waiting for them. 
“Don’t worry about it.” 
Fushiguro fell quiet but looked up at him again hesitantly. “Are you okay? You looked…scary up there. And that curse was practically exorcised already.” 
Gojo ground his teeth. Now the kid chooses to get talkative. He looked down at Fushiguro and almost blew him off again. But the kid looked so earnest. Gojo put his arm around him and pulled him closer. 
“I did something I shouldn’t have. Something selfish.” 
“That’s not new.”
“I suppose not,” Gojo sighed. The ache in his chest had only been slightly dulled. Too bad there wasn’t another curse lurking around to kill. 
“How are you going to fix it?”
Gojo hummed, pondering. “Well, I guess when you love something, sometimes you have to let it go. I’ve been too selfish to do that.” 
“Something or someone?” 
Gojo flinched as Itadori popped up on his other side, big curious eyes boring into his face. 
“ That’s why you left?” Kugisaki groaned. “Ew.” 
“That’s not–no I–” Gojo stuttered, and they all broke into a fit of giggles. Even Fushiguro had a smile on his face. 
“No ice cream for any of you.” Gojo stomped off, leaving their pleas and apologies behind him. 
You had always thought that his love for his job and his students meant he would make a great father. You never understood why he never wanted that with you. It hurt you and he hated it. Hated that it cost him everything. But you never understood that his job was exactly why he couldn’t have that future with you. He couldn’t be there for you and you deserved someone who could. 
He sat in the car, staring at your contact on his phone. The next time you called, he wouldn’t answer. His finger slid across the screen and pressed the red delete button next to your name. 
His heart felt like it had been exorcised. A big empty hole in his chest that could never be repaired. He heaved a sigh, clutching his phone so tightly that it was a wonder it didn’t shatter, and said, “Last time.” 
He loved you enough to give you that.
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damiansgoodgirll · 2 days ago
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HEEEY! How is it going? 💗💗
happy holidays to you! (A little late tho lol)
I was wondering if you can do like a fluff and smut of Damian getting submissive for the first time, and he ends up sleeping on readers chest as the reader caresses his hair (it would be soooo cute😭😭) I really hope you’re comfortable to do it, I love your Damian’s fics a lot!
damian priest x reader
likes, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!!
‼️smut, fluff, dom and sub themes, mention of safewords, restraint, aftercare‼️
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give in
damian was always in control. always the one leading, guiding, taking. that was just how he was—commanding, strong, unwavering.
but tonight, he looked up at you with something different in his eyes. something raw. something vulnerable.
“i want you to take control love,” he murmured, voice low but sure.
you stared at him, processing his words. damian never let go, never surrendered. the idea of him giving that up—giving it to you—sent a slow, electric thrill down your spine.
he held your gaze, unwavering, waiting. you searched for hesitation, for doubt, but all you found was trust.
your heart softened. “are you sure?”
he nodded once, firm. “i want this. with you.”
heat bloomed in your chest, warm and intoxicating. damian, always the dominant one, was offering himself to you. trusting you.
you reached for his hands, tracing the lines of his fingers before lacing them with your “if you need me to stop—”
“i’ll tell you,” he promised. his voice was steady, but his hands twitched like they wanted to reach for control.
you squeezed them gently. “good.” then you guided him to sit, then kneel.
he obeyed without resistance.
a slow smile tugged at your lips as you ran your fingers through his hair, tilting his chin up so he was looking right at you.
“be good for me, damian.” and for the first time, he did.
you started slow, letting the shift settle between you. damian was used to leading, to taking. now, he followed.
your fingers traced the sharp cut of his jaw, tilting his head to the side. beneath your touch, his pulse beat strong and steady, but his breathing wasn’t as even as he wanted it to be.
“you’re doing so well,” you murmured, lips brushing against his throat.
his breath hitched, but he didn’t move, didn’t reach for control.his hands twitched at his sides, restless. you caught them, threading your fingers through his, feeling the strength there—the restraint.
“don’t,” you whispered. “let me.”
his exhale was shaky, but he nodded. slowly, you guided his hands behind his back. his muscles flexed beneath your touch, instinct and habit warring with trust.
“see?” you soothed, pressing a kiss to his temple. “you don’t have to do anything. just feel.”
his lips parted slightly, his jaw clenched like he was holding something back. he wanted you. he needed you. he needed to feel your naked body underneath him but he couldn’t, not tonight at least and that was okay. you didn’t need words. you leaned in, your breath ghosting over his ear. “damian, you don’t always have to be strong,” you told him, your hands sliding down his arms, over the lines of his shoulders. “you don’t always have to be in control.”
his throat bobbed as he swallowed, a silent war waging inside him.
so you kissed him—slow, deep, lingering.
he sighed against your lips, melting, letting go.
when you pulled back, his pupils were blown wide, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.
“color?” you whispered against his skin.
his voice was hoarse when he answered. “green.”
your lips curled.
“good.” you rewarded him with a soft kiss.
then, you smiled against his skin.
“now, be patient for me.” damian was not used to patience, no, he was used to control, to command, to taking what he wanted when he wanted it.
but you made him wait.
you let your fingertips ghost over him, teasing, never quite giving enough. your lips followed the path of your fingers, lingering, then withdrawing before he could get too much.
he shuddered, his muscles coiling tight “please,” he exhaled, barely more than a breath.
you hummed, pleased. “please what?”
his hands flexed behind his back. “more.”
“more?” you echoed, dragging your nails lightly down his back.
he sucked in a sharp breath.
“yes.”
you smiled, slow and knowing.
“patience, damian.”
your hands traced lazy patterns over his skin, mapping every inch, watching as his restraint frayed with every passing second.
“you’re holding on so well,” you praised “but i want you naked, on the bed, for me…now.”
he made a low sound in his throat, something between a growl and a sigh. he nodded before taking his hand and gently pulling him onto the bed.
you pressed a kiss to his jaw.
“all naked damian…for me” you murmured.
he obeyed. he wanted this more than you could imagine.
you couldn’t believe you had him in the same position he had you every night. you on top of him. he trembled beneath you, every muscle taut, breath uneven.
he looked desperate. he needed more but he waited.
and when you finally gave him what he wanted, the sound he made was almost a prayer.
your hand softly reaching out to his shaft, already hard and leaking with pre cum.
“don’t touch me, you can’t…” you whispered when you saw his hands trying to reach out for your fully covered body.
you were his weakness.
you loved watching damian fall apart.
he was always so composed, so in control. but here, now, he was raw. open. completely yours.
“damian…can i tie your hands to the bed?” you asked and he eagerly said yes. he trusted you with his own life.
his head fell back, exposing the long line of his throat. his lips parted, eyes fluttering shut as he surrendered. his hands stuck to the bed. he couldn’t reach for you. he wanted too.
you ran your hands down his chest, nails scraping lightly, making him shudder.
“good,” you murmured. “you’re so good for me.”
his breath hitched at the praise.
you kissed his temple, slow and sweet.
his eyes blinked open, hazy and dark. “y/n…mi amor….”
you hushed him gently, brushing your lips over his, swallowing the rest of his plea. his body sagged into yours, trusting you completely.
“let me take care of you…” you murmured as your hand traveled down once again “close your eyes damian, taste the moment.” and he did just as you asked.
he couldn’t see you but he could feel how you were moving. how you were moving your hand over his long and bare cock. how you were taking off your pants and how they fell on the ground. how you took your panties off and laid them on his naked chest.
how you sat on top of him, letting his dick squeeze your tight walls.
“fuck…” he whispered - moaned.
“do you like this?”
“fuck…si, si mi amor…” you knew you were torturing him and even though you were enjoying every moment of it, you needed to move or you were going to explode.
your movement was slow, up and down, bouncing on his cock, feeling him squeeze you from inside.
“i need more,” he murmured, trying to keep his eyes closed. the pleasure was too much.
“remember who is in charge damian…” you reminded him.
but you knew that if you kept this slow movements, you were going to torture yourself too.
so you gave in. bouncing faster on his dick. letting the pleasure taking the best of you. your head falling back, your hair all messy over your shoulders.
damian was imagining you like that.
with all those teasing, you knew he wasn’t going to last long - and you were about to follow him soon.
“i want you to scream my name when you cum” you ordered him. “i want everyone to know who’s making you feel this good…” you half screamed, half moaned as you were getting closer.
“oh fuck mi amor…” you felt him getting closer. his thighs began trembling. his chest rising. “y/n, fuck…my love…” - he couldn’t hold it anymore as he spilled inside of you. your walls squeezing him even harder as you came on top of him.
feeling your heart pumping faster, your eyes saw white as you tried to get your breathing back to normal.
but your priority was damian.
when it was over, when his breathing steadied and the tension melted from his limbs, untying his hands from the bed, you pulled him into your arms.
he buried his face in your neck, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your skin.
you smiled, running your fingers through his hair, holding him close.
“thank you,” he murmured against you.
you kissed the top of his head. “always.”
he exhaled deeply, content and at peace in your embrace.
“was that okay?” you asked.
“it was more than okay…i loved every second of it…” he kissed your neck.
and for the first time, damian—who had always been strong, always been in control—felt something even better.
he felt safe.
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dailydoseoffanfics · 1 day ago
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⭐️ SELF AWARE FORSAKEN AU (GENERAL HEADCANONS)
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⭐️ a/n: my first x reader post that i actually wrote (i think) heh. /silly ANYWAYS this idea has been my brainrot for a while and TBH i'm not sure if I'm able to execute it well but. fuck it we ball 🔥🔥🔥🔥 ALSO I'M ONLY GOING TO DO NOOB, TWO TIME AND CHANCE FOR NOW CUZ THEY'RE THE ONLY PEOPLE THAT I HAVE SOME IDEAS FOR.... (DON'T WORRY I'LL MAKE ANOTHER POST ABOUT THE OTHER SURVIVORS AS WELL)
⭐️ warnings: possibly ooc but I DON'T GIVE A SHITE 🗣️🗣️🗣️🔥🔥🔥🔥 (kinda), also really fucking long
⭐️ reader is gender-neutral so they/them pronouns are used!
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You're a really normal fan about a Roblox game called "Forsaken".......yeah.....totally a really normal and sane fan about that game. But lately, you've noticed something weird about the characters you're playing.
The characters have varying reactions into finding out they're being controlled by something....or someone (you).
⭐️
NOOB (Noob uses they/them pronouns btw if ya'll forgot!)
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Bro has NO clue what's happening right.
It was that one specific round, the usual running away from killers, hiding behind walls hoping that they don't get spotted. It just another round. Or so they though.
During that round, while they're in hiding, they felt some type of.....warmth.
They ignored it at first. Could be just instincts.
But this warmth was....growing? In a way that this warmth was growing stronger, and they feel this type of.....force.
It was controlling their movements, and Noob could hear a faint voice.
Noob is looking around, their mind running places. What is going on? Who is controlling them? And WHY are they doing this???
Noob felt their fear increase. It was already bad that they're getting chased by killers every single round, but when they become aware of this type of, weird force, that's somehow controlling every single of their movement, and hearing a voice that's so far yet so close? Not too mention that Noob didn't even know who you are, no face, no name, nothing. Noob just thought that they lost their mind for good.
What's even worse is that they don't if they can actually trust you. For all they know, you might be some kind of sadistic person that controls people for fun and takes pleasure in seeing people suffer.
That's why Noob tried to stop whatever force this is. Keyword: tried.
No matter how much effort they put into escaping this grasp, like trying to go into an opposite direction or just standing still, it wasn't enough.
Eventually, when the round ends, Noob is just in their designated room, laying on their bed, wondering what in almighty christ just happened.
Their mind kept replaying that incident. Genuinely WHO WAS THAT PERSON? AND WHY WAS THIS PERSON CONTROLLING THEM? WHAT DID THEY EVEN DO TO BE SUBJECTED TO...WHATEVER THIS IS???
Their paranoia is multiplied by 10x. Every new round, their face is noticeably more fearful, they're more jumpy, and they're looking around EVERYWHERE. They look like they're on a brink of a mental breakdown. Usually the other survivors got used to Noob's shakiness, but when the survivors noticed Noob getting jumpscared by literally any sounds, that's where the suspicion comes in (Two Time was the first to notice).
Even if Noob feels dread whenever they feel that same warmth, somewhere deep inside of their mind, it feels..... oddly calming?
Overall, Noob is NOT having a good time. Noob will flat out NOT trust you in the beginning, and probably thinks you're up to no good, so they'll try to avoid you as much as possible (even if they fail everytime). You're gonna have to be REALLY patient with them, Noob being trapped in this time-looping game is already bad enough for them. (Think about this video LMAO)
⭐️
TWO TIME (also uses they/them!)
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Two Time is......perplexed. They don't know how to feel about this.
Before Two Time gained awareness, Two Time noticed Noob being more jittery than usual. So they confronted Noob about their behavior lately, and (tried to) comforted Noob. (I headcanon Two Time to be a pretty observant person, and while Two Time is usually closed off, they interact with Noob the most. Second being Elliot.)
So this situation about some kind of....force....controlling Noob? Hm.
Two Time thinks about that interaction, and doesn't just brush that conversation off. They will keep in mind of that, questioning about this "force", with furrowed eyebrows and a questioning gaze on their face as they walk down the hallway of the cabin they live in with the other survivors. (I also headcanon Two Time to be kind of...an overthinker. A great listener, but I think they would think too much about things. ALSO also feel like they're generally an anxious and paranoid fella, and it's canon that they're a little crazy in the membrane, so uh, they're pretty much unstable.)
And that's where it happened. Right after that interaction with Noob with a new round started, they felt warm. The type of warmth Noob described, a type of force that's controlling them.
Two Time felt their blood ran cold. Oh...wow. Two Time understands Noob's fearfulness now.
Immediately doing everything on their willpower to escape out of this force even just for little. They're LOCKED THE FUCK IN trying to stand like a statue (with the survivors giving Two Time weird looks and YOU, my dear player, being confused by this absurd behavior your character that you're playing as right now is showing).
Unfortunately, Two Time's attempt was futile, as their legs are jerked forward, forcing them to participate in the round. Throughout the round, Two Time's mind is running a marathon, while also making more attempts to get out this..warmth feeling off of them.
When the round ends, they would....keep this as a secret for some reason. We all know that Two Time's an enigmatic person, they want secrets to be kept as secrets. (Even then, their weird behavior earlier might've confirmed Noob's suspicion that there was, INDEED, something is controlling them.)
I feel like bro would just go from "OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK I WASN'T EXPECTING THIS SHIT HOLY SHIT I DON'T LIKE THIS PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE" to "wait.....what if they're some type of god...omg am i the chosen one ?!?! 🤯🤯🤯"
So the more rounds you played, the more they're starting to think that you're.....a type of deity. And they're slowly starting to stop their escape attempts of the "force".
It's canon that Two Time used to be a part of a cult that believes in the concept of respawning, and this belief grew stronger as time went on, so Two Time thinks that they've been blessed by the gods, and while Two Time can't really hear well of what you're saying, YOU might possibly get them out of this hellhole.
So basically, they slowly went from dreading your presence to......seeking your presence.
Doesn't help that they're pretty unstable though. My guy's gonna look STRAIGHT at you the screen with a smile that you don't whether they despise you or they worship you, which scares the LIVING shit out of you, making you exit out of the game QUICKLY.
And when you exit the game, the warmth automatically disappears from Two Time......which Two Time immediately felt disappointed with. They didn't mean to make you scared! They just wanted to know more about you!
Yeah, Two Time's bummed about that, but now, you're on their mind, and their feelings is having a battle of whether they should be weary of you or trust you.
(Will they eventually be obsessed with you and be desperate of your approval making them do anything, and by ANYTHING, they do for you? Maybe......possibly......likely....)
Overall, Two Time won't trust you at first. But overtime, they'll think you're like a deity or something similar, which is where they'll let you do whatever you want with them. (And where their obsession slowly starts.)
⭐️
CHANCE (canonically uses he/they!)
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Chance is.....confused by all of this.
Chance was the third person to notice Noob's weird behavior. Overtime, they also noticed Two Time being...more in La La Land as well.
Chance just shrugs it off. Eh, he just thinks both of them are generally paranoid, and doesn't think too much about it.
HOWEVER, something weird happened to Chance today. When a new round started, they felt something.....odd in their body.
They felt warm, but a type of warmth that is....controlling his movements.
.......Ooooookay. This is weird.......... DEFINITELY weird.
Chance is caught off guard by this, and while some type of force is making him go to who knows what, his mind is jumbled.
Bro is CONFUSED, BEWILDERED, SURPRISED. He's having profound feelings of confusion.
They would be a teeny tiny bit scared at first, because, WOAH, HOLY SHIT, WHAT IS GOING ON????
But eventually, they would become....curious about this force.
Not only do they feel this type of warmth, but they also hear a voice as well......the voice's too muffled. Chance thinks it's probably his luxurious headphones, so he takes them off. The voice's still too muffled, damn. (You definitely noticed Chance taking off their headphones. You immediately go suspicious. Is your mind playing tricks on you or was this just a new animation apart of the new update that the developers forgot to mention?)
I feel like Chance would be the most calm about this. His canon personality type is ENFP, and ENFPs are usually social and open-minded, so I definitely see Chance wanting to know more about you. He doesn't think of you as a scary individual, and yea sure, he may be a little bit on edge, but he feels like you don't seem to be a bad person, which is why Chance becomes interested in you.
Chance would try to communicate with you by looking at the screen and giving you a smirk......which you immediately close your laptop.
Chance feels the warmth disappear, he feels like that one Spongebob meme that has a teardrop, while you on the other hand, feel like you're going insane.
Welp, guess he's gotta find a way to talk to you without making you feel scared.
He wonders if you'll like his pet bunny, Spade.
Overall, the most chill about this situation. He wants to interact with you more.
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zeroseuniverse · 3 days ago
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Got Your Back
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Word Count: 500 Summary: “I have hobbies,” he replies, scrolling on his phone. “Sleeping doesn’t count.” Pairing: Park Jisung X Reader
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“Don’t look at me like that,” you say, barely glancing up from where you’re wrapping a patient’s wrist.
Jisung, your partner of two years and the only person you trust to have your back in a moving ambulance, blinks at you. “Like what?”
“Like I’m a ticking time bomb.”
“To be fair, you kind of are.” He gestures vaguely to your whole existence.
You huff. “One emotional outburst during a high-stress call does not make me a liability.”
Jisung makes a thoughtful noise. “Wasn’t just one.”
You glare at him, but your patient—a teenage skateboarder who thought he was Tony Hawk—snickers. You press a little harder than necessary on the bandage. “And you, hold still.”
Jisung wisely suppresses a smile and helps you secure the gauze. When the call is done, and you’re back in the ambulance, he tosses you a protein bar.
“Eat.”
You take it but glare at him anyway. “Stop parenting me.”
“I’m not parenting,” he says easily, adjusting his seatbelt. “I just know you get even more insufferable when you’re hungry.”
You make a noise of protest but tear the wrapper open. “Why are you so annoying?”
“Born this way.”
The radio crackles, dispatch calling out another emergency. Jisung looks at you. “Ready?”
You grin, already securing your gloves. “Always.”
Being a paramedic isn’t just a job—it’s your whole life. It has to be.
You and Jisung have seen it all. Car crashes, heart attacks, burns, shootings. You’ve saved lives together, and you’ve lost them together.
The first time you lost a patient, Jisung sat with you on the station steps, handing you a cup of gas station coffee. He didn’t say anything, just let you process.
“I should’ve done more,” you had whispered.
“We did everything we could,” he had replied, quiet but firm. “And we’ll keep doing it.”
You had looked at him then—your rookie partner who had somehow become your closest friend.
And now, two years later, he still looks at you the same way. Like he gets it. Like he gets you.
After a grueling 12-hour shift, you and Jisung collapse onto the couch at the station, your legs propped up on his lap.
“We need hobbies,” you mumble into your hoodie sleeve.
“I have hobbies,” he replies, scrolling on his phone.
“Sleeping doesn’t count.”
He considers this. “Then no, I don’t have hobbies.”
You laugh, too exhausted to keep your eyes open. “One day, we’re gonna retire, and what then? We’ll have nothing to do but drink bad coffee and reminisce about the good old days.”
Jisung hums. “I mean, as long as you’re still around, I think I’ll be fine.”
It’s said so casually that it takes you a second to process. When you do, your stomach does something annoying.
You peek one eye open to look at him, but he’s still scrolling, unfazed.
It’s fine, you tell yourself. You’ll think about it later.
For now, you’re just grateful that through all the chaos, through all the emergencies—you have him.
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peoniesandflowers · 1 day ago
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Geta ABC Headcanons
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A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) When the deed was done, Geta would quickly get his desired relief and make it known that he wanted to be left alone. He is someone that is not particularly interested in cuddling or pillow talks, so he only started doing it as you two saw each other more frequently.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) He likes his torso and chest since he has been able to sculpture it. But for his partner, his favourite would be their neck, the sensation of it beneath his lips and nails drives him to madness.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) He likes to come outside, since to him is a way of marking another person without other risks. As you two grow closer, tho, he will start coming inside too, saying how much he wants you to get pregnant.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) One morning, both of you were having breakfast on his room, and you licked some honey from your fingers, making him have an idea. Next thing you know, his tongue is all over your body, licking you clean after he poured threads of honey all over your skin.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) He has plenty of experience on what he likes since he has had a few lovers, so you'll need to be patient to let him learn about what you like.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) Loooves to see you on your knees looking up at him, even if it's just resting your head on his lap. He also likes you riding him so he can suck on your nipples and play with your ass.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) He might tease you and make you chuckle at first, but he loves to get serious all of a sudden, making you unable to do anything else but moan.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) He trims and takes care of it, but won't fully shave down there.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) At first, he isn't that much thoughtful of how "attentive" he is being, only making sure you also cum (because he wants to hold certain reputation) but as time goes by he gets more heated with you, enjoying every part of your body.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) Why should he pleasure himself when he has slaves and concubines? Same thing even when you are together.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) He is always the dominant one. He does not have to be it all the time, but even though he can be soft, gentle and charming, he is not going to be submissive. Being that said, taunt him and degrade him juuust enough, and you won't be able to walk for a week.
He also enjoys a bit of pain, so scratch his back, hold his neck tight and bite his hand when he muffles you, he will let you know how much he loves it.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do) He has a bit of a public/thrill of being found out fantasy, and has been found in very precarious places. Behind a pillar here, a small, hidden room there. If you even suggest riding him on his throne, you won't be able to even walk up there because of how fast he will carry you on his shoulder to get there.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) This man is easy to pursue if you know how to talk to him. Bat your eyelashes a little and say that you miss him and that's enough for him.
At the same time, tease him and taunt him about how you are not sure if he will be able to do something (like making you cum) and his ego will do the rest.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) Not being in control is a huge no for him, so, for example, tying him down will only happen if he trusts that you will do only things he likes and wants.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) He is not really used to give since he hasn't really bothered about other people's pleasure, but if you know how to push his buttons and say something like "yeah, it's okay, you can't be good at everything" to tease him how XYZ lover did it so much better, he will get to town. The only thing, I feel like he will get impatient, so he will only do it when he knows it can make you come quick.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) He loves a fast pace, specially if he can either see or hear how you bounce on him. As you too see more, he can get more lovey-dovey but it aaaalways gets up getting heated and fast.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) He loves them, both for how risky they can be and how fast he can make you come.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) He is the one suggesting stuff to you and just seeing if you are okay with it. About what he suggests, i would leave it up to y'all.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) 2 to 3 if it has been a short while. 4 and even 5 if he has been a long time since he could have you.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) i dead ass feel like it will make him jealous 💀💀💀 like he would say something like "you are only allowed to come on my dick" or something like that
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) He usually won't do it in public or social situations since he has scold his brother for such manners before.
If you two are alone, he may lay down on the same sofa where you are seated and trace his fingers on your skin softly, both to just feel you and make you remember that he can just do that and more if he wanted to.
If you decide to tease him in private, he would like to see how far you are able to get it through. But tease him too much, and he will make you beg to come, leaving you on the edge.
Pray for your soul of you decide to tease him outside the bedroom.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) He gets loud. He moans he grunts he huffs a d he swears.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) He has a very sensitive neck. Kiss it softly and you'll swear you heard him purr just right before he throws you to the bed.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) 10,5 cm, thick, and a small mole on the right side of his crotch
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) He can do good for 4 days without neither sex nor masturbation, then he either pleases himself or takes you, whatever he can do at that moment.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) At first he would come, turn around and sleep. Now he cuddles you a little and checks that you are okey before falling sleep.
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pastlivesxpastlie · 6 hours ago
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Get Below Me vol 4 🥀
you aren’t ready and that’s ok
simp!roommate!vessel x virgin!fem!reader
Head’s up: oral sex (m receiving), hand job, hurt/comfort, discussions of trust issues + lack of confidence + fear of intimacy, Vessel is the best boy, fluff
A/N: one of the reasons it’s taken me awhile to write a virgin!reader fic is because it made me reflect on my own first time. This one’s inspired by true events and how I wish it had went. We’re healing you, babygirl dead-name. You deserved better.
✨taglist: @lifemod17 @glitterghost @inv3ga @adenobabe @jeriiicho @milk--bones @myaudiocommentary @horsebiologist @intake-of-breath @fruitsandcheese @0hg00dgirl @goosepond69 @friendly-neighborhood-ghoul @lynzeequitlollygagging @thatxxjiyong-ssi @cloudy-soul @daddysaidbringthethunder @evisnotok @cheomain @chaosandchaos @sage-m-sepia @dreamer-lost-in-wonderland
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You woke up curled into a little ball, your back against Vesssl’s. It took you a few bleary blinks to realize you weren’t in your room, but still his. Last night immediately replayed in your mind.
The way he leaned back to watch you suck his cock. His murmurs about what a quick learner you are…how perfect you are. It made you feel incredible. And he felt incredible, too. He was a perfect gentleman and didn’t push your head down or try to force himself deeper. He let you play. Let you learn just from doing. When you pulled off to catch your breath at one point, his head was thrown back as his chest heaved. Moaning your name. Telling you how good you made him feel. Your hand worked him a bit harder just because you were so high on the experience…and that was the first time you made someone cum. Well. Not just anyone in the grand scheme of things. Your perfect boyfriend. Wait…was he…actually your boyfriend? The realization hits you hard, leaving you feel cold. You sit back on your knees and feel that ugly familiar insecurity creep in.
“Ves…?”
“Yeah babe? Are you…” he lifts your chin softly, noticing your tears… “hey what’s wrong?”
“Did that mean anything to you?” You hate to ask. Why the fuck do you have to ask? Why can’t you just have fun?
Vessel’s face falls, looking like he could cry himself. He drops to his knees on the floor and holds you. Holds you tighter than anyone ever has. He doesn’t need to answer. You already know. But that doesn’t stop your tears. Vessel rubs your back and gently kisses your shoulder. “You…not what you do for me…means everything to me.”
You didn’t lose your virginity that night. It seemed wrong considering your state even though your spirits lifted quickly and you felt like yourself. Vessel didn’t want to push it. As he always had, he wanted to protect you and provide for you. He asked you if you wanted to get off another way but you said “no.” The mood was gone. And again, that was ok. As you drifted to sleep, Ves whispered close to your ear, “we have all the time in the world, if you’ll have me.”
Over time, your trust issues tested your relationship with Vessel, ever changing as it was, but it worked out. Every time. He was patient. Adoring. Willing to meet in the middle or change a behavior. And finally, one morning, it all fell into place.
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wyrddogs · 5 hours ago
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While I was out hunting yesterday morning, a member of the tracking community called me and said that their alt competitor had pulled so they had a TD alt sitting there with no one to use it. So the club's consensus was that Kermit and I should give certifying a go again. I thanked them profusely for thinking of me and was like, I have not trained since our last cert attempt... To which I was told that I had better lay a short fun track in preparation then.
So one short fun track later, we showed up this morning, bright-eyed and bushy tailed, to watch the TD tests before our cert track. I thought it would be rude to just show up for my test and then leave. Two out of the five TDs passed, which is a bit disappointing but still huge congrats to those who passed.
My tracklayer is a guy who I want to be when I grow up-- 85 years old, cowboy hat and cowboy boots, HAM radio enthusiast, long white beard, three wirehair dachshunds. A very cool person. My certifying judge is an apprentice judge who jumped at the chance to put this experience under his belt.
The problem with volunteering for the tracking community for years is a bunch of people heard I was attempting to certify so they stayed after the awards were done specifically to watch me run my dog. Nerve-wracking! Multiple people told me a) trust my dog, and b) no pressure, this is a great training opportunity even if you don't pass.
So we did not pass.
Kermit was absolutely fantastic. Incredibly strong start, he was basically glued to the track for the first and second turns. On our way to the third turn we walked over some broken cement blocks and he had to pause to critter for a second. I gave him a moment to rest his brain then refocused him on his task. We overshot the fourth and final turn slightly but he found it pretty quickly and dragged me along the track.
Final obstacle was a puddle pretending to be a creek-- a few inches deep with no way to go around it. Kermit marched right through and then started casting like he'd lost the scent. You can't move forward while your dog is casting (in case you REALLY get lost) so I stood there in the puddle, watching as my dog got mentally fatigued and checked out. I looked to my right. Ten feet away was the glove.
I looked at Kermit, who was climbing in a pile of branches to my left and looking for critters. I called him to me. Knelt in the puddle. Petted him, kissed his nose, told him he's amazing. Gave him some water from my bottle. Gave him a little butt rub. Asked him if he was ready to track. Told him to go track. He ran back to the branches.
I spent about three lifetimes calling Kermit back to me, petting him, trying to get him to refocus. But he was tired and done.
The glove was literally about seven steps from me.
Once Kermit walked over top of the glove without acknowledging it, I turned to the judge and called it. He walked over and told me that if I had picked up the glove after Kermit walked on it he would have passed me. I told him that Kermit had quit working and did not indicate on the glove, and I was not going to accept that. He thanked me for being honest.
Feedback I got from everyone was that my handling was excellent and I was nice and patient with my dog. Kermit was "a joy to watch" and an excellent worker, and everyone was surprised that he pooped out at the end. I got multiple volunteers to lay tracks for me next season. The apprentice judge told me to please call him when I want to try again because he wants to certify Kermit. Everyone says that he's going to be a beast next season.
So we'll work on really increasing value on the glove, getting an indication, and working blind tracks. We are just on the cusp of being there, so I'm sure it won't be difficult.
I'm so, so proud of Kermie. He worked really hard and really well. I couldn't be happier with him. He got an entire packet of delicious shrimp wet cat food once we got back to the car.
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littlestarbigsky · 2 days ago
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happy valentine’s day, you beautiful humans !!!! i love love LOVE our little family over here, thank you for making me feel so loved all the time <3 aaaand my gift to you is the long (very long) awaited chetcherrycola shower fic🩷
this is kinda nsfw sooo… there’s that lol
yall are the very best for being sooo patient with me with this fic, it was THE labor of love to write but i’m soo proud of it and i hope yall enjoy 🫶🏻
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“i’m sorry to bother you like this…” cherry sighed, leaning up against the side of the car.
“i don’t mind, doll,” soda poked his head out to smile at her from the hood of cherry’s stingray.
“but you guys had to get all the way out here… and we don’t even know what’s wrong,” she rolled her eyes.
“and if you think i’m going to let you drive this shitbox it before i know it’s safe to, then you’re out of your mind,” soda poked and pulled at the parts around the engine, his hands picking up all kinds of grease and grime.
not for the first time, soda had gotten a call at work from cherry, who was pulled over at a gas station some miles away with car trouble. before, it had been another greaser gang stealing her spark plug for fun, this time it was her steering going out and her car not wanting to stay on the road. he’d called chet to come get him, and they found her in a panic and worried that her car was finished.
“hey, soda?” chet called from the other side of the car. “i think i found what was wrong!”
“what?” cherry whipped around.
“what’s up?” soda looked over the hood.
chet kicked something on the ground, “tire’s flat as a pancake.”
soda’s mouth fell open, “are you serious?”
chet nodded, kicking the tire again, and cherry buried her face in her hands.
“god,” she cried. “so this is what i called you guys all the way out here for? for my tire? that’s all that noise was?”
“hey, hey, hey,” chet hurried over as soda began to close the hood. “i’d only have trusted soda to fix that anyways, baby! it’s okay!”
cherry didn’t seem to calm down at all, in fact, she seemed to only be getting herself up even more upset. soda looked sadly over at her with an ache heavy in his heart, knowing he couldn’t do anything while they were in public, even if no one was paying attention to them.
chet pulled cherry into his arms, brushing her hair back and kissing around the crown of her head, careful not to mess up her meticulously placed headband. he whispered to her, "it's just a silly little flat tire, nothing's wrong, honey."
he held her close as soda popped the trunk open and grabbed her spare, rolling it over to the flat. cherry seemed to mellow out as she watched him and copied chet's deep breaths, which he would have sworn weren't intentional, but they all knew better. soda got to work fixing the tire, and chet took cherry inside the station so she could freshen up in the bathroom and he got them all a snack. when they came back outside, like the chameleon the world had trained her to be, nobody could have guessed that cherry had been crying.
“the tire is alright, at least should get back to your house,” soda walked over to them, maybe standing a little too close, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care. “i’ll ride back with cherry so i don’t mess up chet’s seats, we can just wipe down the leather in the stingray.”
chet pressed a kiss to cherry’s head and said, “i’ll meet you two there.”
cherry nodded and chet started heading back to his car. soda opened the door for her and she slid into the driver’s side, not missing soda carefully keeping his grease-covered arms from touching her seats as she started driving home.
cherry couldn’t help but chuckle, “you can touch the seats, cola. it’ll come off.”
soda just shrugged, not saying anything.
eventually, she stole a glance over at him and frowned, “you wanna tell me what’s bugging you?”
he didn’t say anything at first, just sighed, sinking into the seat, the cleanliness of the seat now long forgotten. eventually he answered, “i just wish it could always be the three of us, y’know? not just behind closed doors and with our friends.”
cherry felt something click into place and felt a wave of grief wash over her as she tried to imagine what it must have been like to watch her and chet all up on each other all the time, realizing she’d never know what it was like to have soda kiss her at a football game or throw an arm around her in the back of the drive in.
“i…” she tried to say something, but realized that the words would fall flat the moment they left her lips.
they stayed quiet for a while, until they were almost home. soda examined his hands as cherry turned onto her street, “all i did was love you.”
cherry felt her mouth fall open and tears well in her eyes as she pulled into the driveway and she put the car in park. she stole another glance over at him and saw his head fall back in frustration.
“honey, i don’t know what to say…” it was the only thing she could get out before pulling soda into her arms. in a few moments, she felt tears against her neck.
she didn’t care that her dress and arms and legs were getting dirty, all she cared about was soda and keeping him as close as she could. it had been a while since he’d had the chance to decompress and feel what he needed to, it had always been a habit of his. he was a ball of human sunshine most days, but things weighed on him just as much as other people, and sometimes he just needed to break.
eventually, chet pulled up next to them in the driveway and it seemed like soda had cried himself out. cherry hooked a finger under his chin and tilted his head up, giving him a sweet kiss and pressing her forehead to his.
“c’mon, let’s get you cleaned up,” she whispered as chet opened soda’s car door.
chet slid into the seat behind soda, nuzzling his nose into the back of soda's hair and wrapping his arms around him and cherry.
they slowly made their way inside and soda kicked off his boots outside the front door, following cherry up the stairs to her room. she reached under the sink in her bathroom and pulled out a few sets of comfies for the boys, her own pajamas already folded at the foot of her bed, and turned on the shower. when she came back out into her bedroom, chet was helping soda out of his sweaty tank top and soda was fiddling with his belt buckle.
cherry walked over beside him, smoothing his hair back, "i've got the shower started, do you want one of us to help you out, sweetheart?"
he looked sadly between the two of them, tears in his eyes, that had most likely been there since they arrived at the gas station.
chet looked up, seeming to sense the discomfort, "or both of us, maybe?"
something loosened in soda's chest as he nodded, blinking out a single tear.
cherry smiled up at him, her hand stopping at the nape of his neck to play with the hair there, “okay, you go get started, we’ll be right there.”
he nodded mutely and finished pulling off the rest of his clothes, carefully discarding them on the tile of the bathroom instead of the carpet. he threw one more glance back at them before pushing the curtain aside and stepping into the shower.
“he misses you,” cherry mumbled, pulling her hair up and turning around so chet could unzip her dress. she turned around and got to helping him unbutton his shirt.
"what do you mean?" he asked quietly.
"he's tired of hiding it," she answered, shrugging the dress off her shoulders and reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra while kicking her dress to the side. "he'll never say it, but he's tired of watching us be together without him all the time."
chet bit his lip, stepping out of his khaki's and reaching up to unclasp the chain around his neck, laden with his st. william pendant. cherry stopped and picked up the garments littering the ground and threw them into the laundry basket in the corner, wordlessly gesturing for chet to go in first.
he stepped into the bathroom and grabbed three of cherry's soft pink towels from the cupboard, setting them on the sink. he pushed the curtain back far enough to step into the shower, his lanky limbs feeling their way around the space, and doing what he could to keep himself open and available for whatever soda needed him for.
soda was standing under the spray, letting the water run over his hair, a routine he had developed to make it easier to get all the grease out. they had showered together before, mostly just after rumbles to get themselves cleaned up before cherry would let them in the bed, but there was a neediness to the way soda was holding himself, arms crossed over his chest.
chet stepped forward, chests pressed together and gently held soda's face in his hands. it was almost magical watching the water run down soda's face, staring into the gorgeous eyes that he realized had gone sad and dull for far too long.
"you're so beautiful, baby," he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to soda's lips sweetly.
soda rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, "you're such a sap."
chet raised an eyebrow, "but you love me?"
"i do," soda draped his arms over chet's shoulders and pivoted them so they were both standing in the spray of the water, soda's face pressed against his collarbone as water dripped down from chet’s hair.
"you better love me, too," came cherry's soft voice from behind them peeking in around the curtain.
“c’mere, sweetheart,” soda couldn’t help but let a smile break across his face, he offered a hand to cherry, helping her step over the edge of the bathtub. she took a few steps forward and wrapped her arms around soda’s neck, kissing him sweetly.
chet pressed himself up against soda’s back, his hands resting gently on cherry’s waist, sandwiching soda between them. chet bent down and started pressing kisses along the line of soda’s neck, soda’s head falling back onto his shoulder.
cherry turned around and grabbed a washcloth and her sweet, flowery, body wash, the one she knew both of them loved. chet continued to run hands up and down soda’s sides and massaging the muscles in his arms as cherry poured some of it out and worked up a lather. she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his jaw before staring to run the washcloth over his chest and arms.
soda sighed, all of the tension leaving his body as cherry dragged the cloth down his arms and over his shoulders.
“can we wash that hair, sweetheart?” cherry asked gently, her hand stopping on his chest for a moment.
“mmhm,” he mumbled, his eyes closed as he leaned his head against chet’s.
“it’s the blue bottle behind you,” cherry instructed gently, starting to run her hands over soda’s stomach and sides.
chet poured some of it out into his hands and began to massage it into soda’s hair, gently working through the grease and dirt caked on from his shift at the dx that morning.
cherry took a few steps forward and soda opened his eyes, rotating the three of them so that she was under the spray of the shower head. he tucked his finger under her chin and tipped her head back to wet her hair.
“can i see the shampoo?” soda whispered, and cherry grabbed it for him. he poured it out into his hands, chet’s hands still working the grease out of his hair. soda rubbed it into a lather, pulling cherry towards him and starting to thread his soapy hands through her hair.
they switched places once soda was finished and he rinsed himself off as cherry started carding gentle hands through chet’s hair. soda brushed cherry’s shampooed hair over one shoulder and hooked his chin over the other, pressing sweet kisses to her neck and hugging her to his chest. chet leaned down and kissed her sweetly, stepping closer so that he could run a washcloth over her chest and shoulders, not stopping kissing her for a second.
it went on and on, each of them taking turns in between the others, each of cherry’s hands massaging conditioner into both of their hair, chet’s head falling back as soda ran soap over his torso, a mess of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash by the time cherry shut off the water.
“i don’t think you got all the conditioner out,” cherry smiled, perched on her bathroom sink with her hair tied up in a towel and running her hands through soda’s damp hair.
“yeah? and who’s fault is that?” he tilted his head, using the corner of the towel around his neck to wipe away a few drops of water on her forehead.
she smirked, “i think it’s chet’s.”
“hey!” chet cried from the bedroom. he came back into the bathroom, his towel tied low around his hips, “cherry was the one who complained about being cold.”
he wrapped his arms around soda’s waist, kissing his cheek, and grabbing one of cherry’s hands. cherry leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to chet’s forehead, and another to soda’s lips.
“you feeling better, baby?” she asked gently as she pulled back, brushing a few more pieces of hair out of his face.
he nodded wordlessly, his lips curving into a smile as he leaned his head against chet’s.
“good, let’s go lay down then,” she smiled, and hopped off the sink and pushed open the bathroom door, leaving chet and soda to linger for a moment.
she threw her towel over her desk chair and pushed the covers back on the bed, not bothering to put on the pajamas she had set out for herself and the boys on the dresser.
she looked pointedly at them, “c’mon, get over here.”
chet’s eyebrows shot up, “are you serious?”
cherry’s eyes darted between them and the open. bathroom door, “it’s warmer.”
soda chuckled and hung up his towel in the bathroom and settled in next to her, closely followed by chet, who crawled up against soda’s other side and threw the covers over them.
soda rolled over to envelop cherry in his arms, chet pressed against his back, “thank you for getting a flat.”
cherry smiled and kissed him sweetly, “thank chet, i probably would have had you rooting around the hood of that car for another hour.”
chet giggled behind them and pressed another kiss to soda’s shoulder, “we love you, coca-cola.”
soda’s eyes were getting heavy, and he smiled drowsily, “i love you, too.”
“i know you’re tired,” cherry cupped his cheek in her palm. “get some rest, sweetheart, we’ll be here when you wake up.”
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thinking about... making blue cry...... his makeup running........ im going crazy......
I'm sorry I made this about Trine.
Trine [15]
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Anselm Vogelweide x Blue Jones x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals  •  Masterlist • ao3 • want to be tagged? | request info • Trine Masterlist • ko-fi •
Summary: Blue gets pegged.
Warnings: bondage, anal fingering, handjobs, fleshlights, edging, teasing, pegging (first time), multiple orgasms, watching via a phone, typos, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!
Word Count: 2397
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Blue had intended to go into the club today. He really had. 
It had been weeks since he’d set foot in the place, and while he was more than happy with the reports (both written and verbal) from the acting managers you and Anselm had hired to keep things running perfectly, and the acting managers in general (they were so polite and followed in instructions to the letter), he wanted to do a little work. 
Not too much, but just enough to make himself feel better. You and Anselm were always working, it only seemed fair. 
In fact, he’d chosen today specifically because he thought you both were going to be out of the house. And he didn’t want to be sitting moping around for your return. 
He’d dressed around noon, taking a little longer than he usually would to style his hair and moustache before he painstakingly applied his make-up. It wasn’t that he didn’t normally take pride in his appearance (perhaps a little too much pride), it’s just that he wanted everything to be perfect.  
And then you’d come home for lunch. 
He’d been in the private living room when you’d walked in, practically on his way out of the house. Almost there. 
“Aw, don’t you look beautiful?” You’d smiled and kissed him and wished him a good day. 
And really, Blue should have had the self control to leave it at that. 
And not whine and beg and throw himself at you. Literally. 
You’d tied his hands behind his back after you’d stripped him bare, manhandled him back until he was lying flat on the settee and then sucked his cock so deep he thought he was going to pass out. You’d pushed two fingers inside and he’d screamed in pleasure, begging and wailing, and crying and pleading as you pulled him closer and closer to a blissful release. 
An orgasm that never came. 
You’d stopped four times when he was nearly there, admiring his flushed skin and smeared eyeliner. 
“Please?” 
“Aww, you beg so prettily.” You stroked his cheek and grinned when he wined. “I’m just going to get something to try… stay here and be a good boy?” 
He’d nodded and you’d walked out. 
But you’d been gone fucking ages. 
Blue huffs, moving a little so his arms don’t fall asleep. He was still painfully hard, part of him wanted to roll over and rut against the sofa cushions until he spilt himself all over them. 
If Anselm had left him here this long, he would have. But then again, Anselm would have tied him up completely so he wouldn’t have had the chance. 
You were trusting him to behave. 
He swallows, his throat bobbing. 
He could be good. For you. For a little longer. 
You open the door a second later, like you were some kind of mind reader and had been waiting for his submission. 
Blue shivers when he sees you, excitement running along his skin. He says your name quietly and you give him a smile and wink. 
“Just a moment longer, sweet thing.” You walk in front of the settee and fiddle with the small tripod and slot your phone into it. Once you’re happy with its position on the table, you turn back to Blue. “You’ve been so patient waiting for us.” 
“So patient, meine Liebe." Anselm says, his voice rich and deep as it rumbles through the phone’s speaker. 
He’s on video call, taking in the whole scene before him as he sits at his work desk. 
Blue swallows. His eyes dart between the phone and you, and the new outfit you're wearing. 
It’s the matching lingerie set, the red one that Blue had made so much of a fuss of a few weeks ago when you’d first worn it. 
That alone would have been enough to captivate his attention, but your other item of clothing (if it could be called that) was the star of the show here. 
You go to the side table and pick up the bottle of lube you’d left there earlier, pumping it a few times. 
“Now, it’s just us,” Anselm says, drawing Blue’s attention back to him, “Well, us and dear Fredick here,” he motions his hand to the camera. “Who is doing an excellent job holding the phone.” 
Blue smirks. 
“So I want you to relax, and enjoy yourself, hmm?” 
Blue nods. 
“Good boy.” Anselm’s voice makes his cock twitch. 
You turn around slowly, coating the cock of the strap on you’re wearing with a generous amount of lube. 
Blue wriggles, spreading his legs a little wider as you kneel between them. He bites his lip, excitement sparking and twisting in his stomach. 
The dildo itself isn’t that big or wide, and certainly miniscule compared to Anselm’s generous length, but it’s the first time Blue’s ever tried to take anything bigger than a tongue, or a few fingers. 
You stroke his thighs soothingly, “Now if something feels uncomfortable, you tell me ‘red’, yes?” You give him a firm look, Blue has a tendency to try to push past his limit to please you. “Or I won’t be happy.” 
He nods quickly. “I promise.”
“Good.” You tap his nose and grin when he wrinkles it. “I know you’re desperate to take our husband's cock in the future.” 
Blue squirms again, a light flush on his skin.
“But we have to go slow and build up to it.” You take one of the cushions from the side, the one with a cartoon pug across the front, and lift Blue’s hips to slide it under his lower back. Propping him up perfectly for you. 
Anselm nods. “I don’t want to damage you when I finally get a chance to fuck that delicious hole of yours.” Your husband’s serious expression makes you want to giggle. Somehow you manage to keep a straight face. 
Lightly you tap the tip of Blue’s cock and he jumps, whining softly. “Are you listening?” 
He nods rapidly, “Yes, sorry.” And pouts slightly. 
You chuckle, “Good boy Blue.” You press your hands against his thighs as you get into a comfortable position, and keep your right hand on his skin as you pour more lube straight from the bottle onto his entrance. 
He jumps, a little frown on his face. “That’s cold.” 
This time you can’t help but giggle at his little look of indignation, the one you know he purposefully exaggerates just for you. 
“It’ll warm up in no time.” You smile and take hold of the base of the strap in your left hand as you press it against him. 
Blue swallows. 
“Relax, sweet thing, and let’s put on a nice show for Anselm while he’s at work, hmm?” 
Blue nods, trying to wriggle a little closer to you. 
You angle your hips up and push into him slowly. There’s a small resistance as the head breaches and Blue lets out a little mewl.
“It’s okay, it’s okay, you can take it, can’t you?” 
He nods, breathing deeply at the foreign sensation. The cock feels much larger now that it’s sinking inside. 
You continue to ease in, stroking his thigh with your thumb. 
Blue bites his lip. 
“How are you feeling? “
“Okay.” He’s looking to the side, away from both you and Anselm, embarrassed almost. 
Gently, you take hold of his cock and pump it slowly. 
Blue groans instantly, his eyes closing. He arches his back instinctively, unintentionally taking more of the strap. That was better. 
You push the last bit inside, his balls resting against you.
“And how’s that?” You ask, still stroking his length up and down languidly. 
Blue nods, biting his lip. “Feels… different.” He says shyly. “Is… is this what it’s like when I’m inside you?” 
“A little.” You smile.
A small frown flutters across his face. 
“Don’t worry,” Your voice is calm, reassuring. “It will start to feel better soon.”
“It’s not bad.” Blue says. “Just…”
“Nothing to write home about?” You smile and he nods giggling. “Well, let’s see if we can change that?” 
You wait for him to nod again before you take your hand off his cock, so that you can brace yourself against the back of the sofa. Slowly you roll your hips, barely letting the strap slide out of him, just getting him used to the sensation. 
He moves shallowly with you, watching your body as you rock together. The sound of the lube is getting him worked up on its own, the way his balls press up against you. It’s nice. Better than nice. 
“I think-” Blue starts to say and then gasps as you pull out an inch and thrust back inside. 
“How’s that?” 
“Again.” He moans, “Please, oh god, again!”
You grin and do exactly as he asks. 
“Good to see he hasn’t lost his manners.” Anselm chuckles and Blue turns to face the phone but his bratty response dies in his throat as you buck again. 
He practically screams. 
“Now those are the sounds we want to hear.” Anselm nods, “Keep fucking him like that, my love.” 
You give him a mock salute that makes him laugh, as you pull Blue’s left leg up so that the middle of his calf is resting on your shoulder. Blue whines underneath you, pulling at the bindings on his wrist and then screaming in pleasure as you start to fuck him in earnest. 
You pound into him, pushing the strap up and against something truly wonderful inside. He’d felt it before, when yours or Anselm’s fingers pressed deep, but this was something else entirely. 
How his muscle was stretched and pulled tight against the relentless onslaught, your thighs smacking against his as all he could do was take what you gave him. 
Nonsense falls from his mouth in a rush, half formed thoughts and syllables. “Please, please, oh mommy, please!” His eyes roll back, his jaw going slack as he moans and screams. 
The sofa thumps as it rocks under the force of your thrusts.  
“Yes, yes, like that.” Anselm groans. 
You glance to the side, watching as your husband leans back in his leather chair. He’s wearing a thick silver cock ring, the one that stretches his balls away from his dick, his hand is a blur as he moves the transparent flesh light up and down over his heavy length. You can practically hear the slap of his own lube over the sound of Blue’s cries. 
Blue squirms, trying to chase his pleasure and you push forward a little, blending him slightly in on himself. He gasps, looking up at you with wide, desperate eyes. 
“God!”
“You like that?” You tease, exertion in your voice, sweat beading on your back. “You like taking mommy’s cock?” 
He whines, tears spilling from his eyes again, “Yes, yes, yes!” 
“Love that mine is the first one you’ve ever had.” You moan and thrust harder, rocking up with each movement so the base of the strap rubs deliciously over your clit. 
Blue sobs nodding. “I’m, I’m,” he hiccups, pleasure is overwhelming him, paling everything else but the feel of you inside. “I’m going to come, I can’t…” 
The cock keeps hitting perfectly, keeps pushing him higher and higher. Every thrust echoes along his own length, buzzing the pleasure along his cock and through his balls until he feels like he is vibrating in the air.
“I’m not going to stop.” You whisper, your voice caressing his skin. “I’m not going to stop until I come.” You growl and he screams.
Lightning sparks up his spine, freezing him in pace as he gasps and falls into bliss. He spurts all over himself, coming hot and thick on his stomach and chest, drained completely by your precise thrusts. 
“Fuck.” Anselm groans, “Keep going my love,” his voice strained. “Keep fucking him until he comes again.” 
You nod, slowing a fraction so that Blue can catch his breath - and tell you ‘red’ if he needs to. 
But he doesn’t, just looks up at you with wide surprised eyes as his cock twitches again, not even softening slightly. 
“I’m, I’m, ohhh!” He sobs, shivering, “It still feels so good.” He pants, confused and drunk on pleasure. 
“Good.” You let his leg fall to your side and lean fully over him so you can grind deep. 
He gasps as you swirl your hips in a figure eight, and shifts as much as he can so that his legs are spread wider. 
“You want to come again?” You tease and grin when he nods desperately. 
The pressure runs along your clit as you rock, pushing you up and up and up. Blue moans, his cries weak and wanton as you move. He looks so perfect under you, fucked out and needy and begging so beautifully. 
“You want me to fuck you like this every day?”
“Please!” He sobs, “Every day, all day, all the time, I need it, I need you, I need-” He gasps, his eyes rolling back as the onslaught against his prostate reaches another dizzying head. He comes again, shivering and shaking, come dribbles out of his cock, adding to the mess he’d made before. 
And it’s the sight of that, of him, that sets you off. Your orgasm hits you by surprise, sinking into your skin and making you lightheaded as you fuck both of you through it. It’s drawn out and syrupy, filling your bones with thick warmth as it washes over you. 
Anselm groans as he spurts inside the fleshlight, slowing his strokes as he shakes and watches you both with dark eyes. He breathes hard and pulls his handkerchief from his breast pocket before dabbing it on his forehead. 
“Well, I think that was a very good first try.” He swallows and hisses as he eases the toy off of his cock. 
You smile at Anselm as you run your fingers through the come on Blue’s stomach, his muscles twitching under your touch, and then press them into Blue’s mouth. 
He moans and sucks them clean messily. 
“I think you should come home now Anselm,” You smile, “So I can fuck you with the bigger strap.”
Anselm’s breathing hitches and he stares at you with dark eyes.
“And Blue can suck your cock while I do it.” Blue groans around your fingers and nods eagerly. 
Anselm swallows and then glances out of frame. “Fredrick, ready the car.” 
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antarcticajoy · 2 years ago
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you know what I'd love? If someone would just choose me for once
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