#some people will be nerdy enough to want to read it

[libraryspectre]

I wanted to talk about the Black Parade uniforms and it kind of turned into an entire essay. My ideas on the intention behind each costume and their cohesion as a group really evolved over the course of writing this, and I think it brought into focus a lot of things I knew subconsciously but hadn't articulated. I also noticed a lot of details I had never seen before. This has futher convinced me that 1) costume design and what you can say with it is really fascinating and 2) this is S-tier costume design of all time. And it's really long so I'm putting the rest under the cut.

What I would have loved is a Weezer-style picture of the five of them standing side by side, full bodies visible, but unfortunately that doesn't seem to exist. They're either covering each other up, or posed in such a way that details aren't visible or cut is hard to compare, so I'll have to provide a variety of visuals. This weirdly blurry poster is the closest thing I could find to a Weezer picture, so take them in as a group and refer back as necessary. I want to start by saying, obviously, that they look amazing both individually and as a set. "Dark marching band of death" is a really fun concept that is very well executed. But this isn't their first time doing a look as a group - think back to Revenge for a minute, when they really started to think about their costuming as a band. Gerard has talked about how then, they were kind of closing ranks against the vitriol coming their way. They needed to feel like a team, a gang, and dressed like one. I think some of this mentality has carried over into the Black Parade uniforms - they're less defensive, (there's no bulletproof vests), but in taking on new, nameless identities they have removed themselves as individuals from the equation, which is protective in its own way. What's left are stage personas, and the more you look the more you see that these were designed by someone who is very familiar with the history of the band and how each member presents themselves on stage. It's absolutely genius costume design, because when everyone is in uniform, the little differences are more noticable and tell you so much about the intention behind each variation.

Before we really start, I have to confess that I have no history in costuming or even a lot of familiarity with marching or military bands. I can only say I find costuming interesting, so I've read a little about it, and I went to high school in America and almost all my friends were in marching band. Someone who is more educated in these things could probably give more specific insights and have a better vocabulary to talk about it, but do not underestimate me. I am deeply obsessed with MCR and got A's in English, so let's find some meaning in symbolism! But please remember that with all art, there is no one interpretation. And remember going forward that these costumes were designed by Colleen Atwood, based on sketches she was given by Gerard, so there's no telling what elements were brought in by her and what elements Gerard had planned originally. If anyone has sources on that, PLEASE let me know because I'm very curious about the design process.

Also, I'll be using the uniforms as they appear in the WTTBP video as the standard, with acknowledgements toward variations seen in posters and the FLW video. It's worth noting that in many live performances they wore different, less unique jackets, and often forewent the pants for black jeans. This is almost certainly because they were easier to perform in and they didn't want to subject the originals to the sweat and rowdiness of regular shows. Ok, here we go! Here are some pics to refer back to throughout.

Starting with the band as a whole, I want to point out two things: first, marching bands evolved from military bands. The individual costumes vary in how "military" they look, but you can definitely see the influence when you look at them as a set. I imagine they leaned into that a bit because of the military elements on the record - the suggestion in Mama that the patient was a soldier, maybe even a war criminal. We also know they've done military aesthetics before, in The Ghost of You music video, and that the band was formed in response to 9/11. Suffice to say, the military is on the mind, and this is a continuation of that.

They also look a bit like skeletons. Obviously they would occasionally do the face paint, but the uniforms themselves suggest a ribcage with the horizontal silver lines, and at some angles the stripes on the pants also really contribute to the image. I know most people have already realized this, but I wanted to point it out explicitly because it took me an embarassingly long time to see it.

Alright, I'm gonna talk about them individually now, going from my personal least to most favorite. Taste aside, they're all individually really interesting.

5. Bob

(I can't find another good Bob picture, just scroll up to the blurry one)

It's not just because I don't like Bob, I genuinely like this one much less than all the others. It might be because it's less tailored - the others look much sharper, he looks almost rumpled in comparison. The lose fit might be because as a drummer, he needed better range of movement, but I'm not a drummer so I don't know. The cut of his jacket looks kind of naval to me, which is interesting. His stripes are also very minimal compared to the others. Overall, his looks the least like it's part of a set. I don't necessarily think they meant to set him apart, but maybe they did, considering he's the only non-original member (I'm counting Frank as an original member) and the only one not from New Jersey (which, I only point out because they ALWAYS point that out to people who mention they're a Jersey band. We're from Jersey, Bob is from Chicago.) Maybe it was a subconscious thing, or maybe as the drummer his costume was designed to make the most of what would be visible sitting and partially obscured by the drum kit. It does have a very dramatic collar. That's probably also part of the reason they gave him a more distinctive haircut for this - I'm not gonna talk about hair much, but it's worth mentioning. Overall, I don't have a ton to say about Bob because I don't think of him much (sorry, but not really).

4. Frank

Frank's is really interesting. His is the least traditional-looking, which is why it's here in the ranking, but I like it and I think there's a good reason for that. Those stripes on the sleeve are a really strong look, and the material of the silver has kind of a tarnished/dappled look you can see better in other photos. I've seen people say it's a subtle camo pattern, but I'm honestly not sure - I think he's supposed to look a little less new and shiny. The blockiness of it widens him and gives him a lot of presence that might be lost if he was dressed more like the others, and it compliments his performance style well. That's particularly important in the WTTBP video - on that float, he simply doesn't have room to be as wild and energetic as his standard performance was at the time, so this uniform helps him stand out and draw attention to what thrashing he is able to do. As far as bucking tradition, he also is the only one without shoulder tabs (those little loops). There's something funny about that - those tabs are meant to hold loops and eupalletes that would signify rank, placement, or achievement, which apparently you could not give to Frank if you tried. I think this lack of traditionality is reflective of Frank's more punk sensibilities, having come up in the Jersey scene. His playing style evolved over time as he and Ray influenced each other, but at the start he was very much their punk guitarist and coming up in that scene continued to influence how he conducted himself as a musician. I think this uniform marks him as a non-conformist even within the group.

He also has that patch with a red cross on the sleeve, the only bit of color on any of them. I don't know what to make of that, maybe it's just for the Catholic vibes.

Honestly, Frank's feels the most like what people would expect from an "emo" marching band uniform. Especially considering the poster, where he's found a hole to stick his thumb through. I don't think he's wearing it in the video, but in that poster he has this belt with some kind of weapon?? Maybe?? We get it, he's a dangerous little man.

3. Mikey

Mikey's uniform is by far the most military - it's not just the medal, it's also the cut of the jacket. And he's the only one with a fun little belt, which helps keep the silhouette look nice and tailored even though the jacket flares a little at the waist. We all know the medal is a reference to his death in The Ghost of You video (there's no way they didn't know we would make that connection) and it wouldn't surprise me if the rest of his uniform looks more military because it was built around that idea. But also consider Mikey's stage presence at the time - due to his discomfort on stage, he used to be really stoic, standing in the back, getting the job done with little showmanship. I think that presentation lends itself well to a classic military figure. Mikey is also pretty thin, and the long jacket and it's strong, solid construction keeps him from looking too Victorian-orphan waifish (especially with how pale they all are), and more like a dead soldier boy.

Additionally, Mikey's costume leaning so hard into the military side helps them look more military as a group. It keeps the association in your mind when you look at the others. Also, he's wearing a little necklace here, which I've never noticed before, is he wearing that in the videos?? I think it's an anchor, which is fun considering he died on a beach.

2. Gerard

Yes, Gerard's is #2 in my ranking. I'm sorry, I might have a slight bias knocking it down from #1. But maybe not, let me defend myself when I get there. Anyway, Gerard's is the most classically marching band, which makes sense considering he's the frontperson. In fact, he has one of those braided loops on his shoulder we talked about earlier, demonstrating.....something, it seems to vary a lot, but we're probably meant to think leadership. He's not wearing it the WTTBP video, but it's there in Famous Last Words. He also has that fancy little star thing on the shoulder, which definitely seems to suggest rank. Otherwise, his uniform is very basic. He's the template that the others' uniforms are variations of. And it's a great look! He's also got nice big buttons compared to the others, three whole rows of them, which is a nice touch to make it look a liiiiittle more feminine. Because, of course, the back of the jacket is corseted, in a genious stroke of gender that puts the entire outfit in a new context. I think this is a good example of how Gerard likes to play with androgony by balancing masc and femme elements. The cut of his jacket makes his shoulders look wide and his waist narrow, but not so narrow it looks terribly feminine (just a little, taken on its own). A lot of this is achieved by the piping - notice how on Bob, Mikey, and Frank, the top row of piping (I might be using that word wrong but let's go with it. I'm talking about the silver stuff across the chest) is pretty much the same length as the bottom row? On Gerard, they start out wide way up on his shoulders and get progressively narrower at the waist. It's still a mostly masculine silhouette, but then you have the counter balance of the big buttons and his little white pixie cut, both of which lean just a little further toward femme than masc. It's an androgynous look that leans toward masc as a whole, until he turns around and, boom, corseted back. Showstopping. He also had those black leather gloves that give some nice formality, and maybe a touch of impersonality. They make it so that when he's in full uniform, the only skin you can see is that of his face. They're like an edgier version of the usual plain white marching band gloves.

1. Ray

Going purely by aesthetics, Ray's is my favorite. It's the fancy one, most obviously distinct by the flourishes around the buttons on his jacket. He Mikey are the only ones with pure silver shoulder loops, and Ray has more silver piping on his jacket than the others. In some pictures he's wearing this really ornate knotted tassle thing? You can see it in one of the group pictures above. He isn't wearing it in any of the videos, which makes sense as it could be really annoying while playing. The cut of his jacket at the bottom also looks formal to me, but I'm not sure why. Overall, the ornanamentation could be a reflection of his playing style - the same caveat here applies to Frank, in that they influenced each other through their parnership as guitarists, (and Ray has a lot of influences from different genres), but at the start he was their metal guitarist, and the guitars in metal are often complicated and showy. And he's their soloist, they need to show him off a little.

Additionally, the construction here is giving him an absolutely wild silohette. Like Gerard, the piping on his jacket gets progressively narrower to suggest a smaller waist, but without the really long stripes at the top to make the shoulders look broader. Those vertical lines across the front add to the effect because they're curved inward - which is interesting, because everyone else's uniforms are composed of entirely straight lines and sharp angles. And his jacket is cut REALLY high on the side. I can't tell if Ray's pants are more high-waisted than the others, or if it just looks that way because of the cut of the jacket. You see the stripe of the pants go all the way up his hip, and since he's already tall with long legs, it really accentuates that. It's hard to tell, but I think his pants are even a little more form-fitting than the others. The other day I saw people commenting on a gif of Ray in the WTTBP video about how they never noticed how long his legs are - this is why!

We talk about how part of what makes Ray such a compelling performer is how he moves, and I think this costume was designed to compliment fluid motion. The tailoring and curves of the piping avoid making him look too rigid or blocky, as a marching band uniform could easily do, and the high cut of the jacket lets the line of his legs continue uninterrupted. Honestly, this is a favorite look for Raygirls (gender neutral) for a reason - I think they knew exactly what they were doing putting him in a pretty, well-tailored uniform that accentuates his movement. (Caveat here that I'm a Raygirl (gn) so I'm definitely biased, and they all look great in their uniforms, but I do think Ray's is.....uniquely flattering, and I don't think it was an accident).

Conclusions

So now that we've talked about all of them, I think we have some interesting contrasts to make. Gerard and Mikey both have very classic looks, but Gerard's is more marching band and Mikey's is more military. Mikey and Bob both have very military looks, but Mikey's has a much more solid construction. Gerard and Ray are both on the marching band side of the spectrum, but Gerard's is classic while Ray's is ornate. My favorite contrast is between the guitarists - Frank's is blocky and rigid and tarnished, Ray's is curved and fluid and shiny.

The interplay between similarity and contrast is what makes this so compelling as a group costume - just by looking you can tell who's the leader, who's the tragic figure, who's the outcast, who's the rebel, who's being spotlit.

In closing, thank you Colleen Atwood and Gerard Way for designing these and the rest of the band for wearing them, I will never get tired of looking at them.

[itneverendshere]

played me like a clarinet - rafe cameron (three) - finale

request: "Desperately-on my knees-begging for a ''She's all that'' from 1999, with Popular Rafe x Reader. Ooouff, and you want that soul crushing heartbreak when she finds out about the bet he had made" pairing: rafe x smart!nerdy!reader. warnings: more angst <3; part one here; part two

Staying away from Rafe was hard.

It was hard before you two tried to be friends and it’s even harder now that you gave him the no-contact ultimatum. Everywhere you went, it felt like he was there, even if he wasn’t. It was in the songs that played on the radio, in the way the sun set over the patio near your dorm, in the way his, now yours, shirts still smelled like him. 

You missed the late-night conversations, the way he’d laugh at your jokes, and how he could read you better than anyone else. But more than anything, you missed the way he made you feel—even if it wasn’t real at first. 

Every time your phone buzzed, you stupidly hoped it was him, even though you knew it wouldn’t be. You’d told him to stop, to leave you alone, and he had respected your boundaries even when it seemed like the last thing he wanted to do. And you’re proud of him for it—for once, he’s doing something right. But you’re mostly proud of yourself too, for sticking to your decision, for not letting him back in so easily.

Still, it doesn’t make it any easier.

You thought giving yourself space would help you move on, help you figure out if you could ever really trust him again. But instead, it just left this space where he used to be. You kept wondering how much of it was real for him—if any of it was. Maybe that’s why staying away felt impossible because a part of you wanted to believe he meant some of it, that his feelings weren’t just part of some game. 

You had to draw the line, to protect yourself from getting hurt all over again. And even though it hurt to keep him out, you knew it was the only way you’d figure out what you really wanted, without him clouding your judgment.

You tried to move on.

Slowly, cautiously, you started going on dates—nothing serious, just enough to remind yourself that there were other people out there, that Rafe wasn’t the only guy who could make you laugh or feel special. Every few weeks, you’d let yourself get dressed up, put on a smile, and meet someone new.

The first date was awkward, more like a practice run than anything else. You spent most of it comparing the guy to Rafe, noticing all the little things that didn’t measure up. It wasn’t fair to the guy, but you couldn’t help it. He wasn’t Rafe, and that’s all you could focus on. You ended the night with a polite hug and a promise to text, but you knew you wouldn’t.

The second date was better, but not by much. The guy was nice, made you laugh a few times, but there was no spark, no connection that made you want to see him again. You tried to be present, to give him a chance, but your mind kept drifting back to Rafe, to what he would say or how he would react to something. By the end of the night, you felt more exhausted than excited.

After that, you took a break. It was too soon, you told yourself. You weren’t ready to move on yet, and that was okay. 

Some days, you almost reached out to him. You’d pick up your phone, scroll through your messages, and your finger would hover over his name. It would be so easy to send a quick text, something casual, just to see how he was doing. But you never did. You knew that one message could ruinl everything you’d worked so hard to build—the distance, the boundaries, the fragile sense of self you were trying to protect.

Instead, you threw yourself into other things. Classes, the cheer squad, hobbies, anything to keep your mind occupied. You spent more time with friends, even though it was hard not to talk about him. You kept the conversations light, steering away from anything that would bring his name up. You didn’t want to be that person who couldn’t stop talking about their ex, who couldn’t let go, even if that’s exactly how you felt inside.

It helped, sometimes.

For brief moments, you’d find yourself genuinely laughing at a joke or losing yourself in a book or a project. But then something small would happen—a song on the radio, a glimpse of someone who looked like him, or the sound of his name in passing—and it would all come rushing back. It wasn’t fair. 

You’d think you’d be used to it by now, but each time it felt like a fresh wound. The memory of his laughter, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the way he always knew just what to say—it was as if he left a ghost behind, haunting every corner of your life. And in those moments when you’d catch yourself smiling or feeling light, it was like a betrayal. How could you allow yourself to feel joy when he wasn’t there to share it?

It was like trying to run from a shadow that moved with you, always there, no matter how fast you tried to go.

Every time you thought about him, about how he had hurt you and how you were struggling to move on, it felt like stabbing at an old wound, hoping it would heal faster if you just made it worse. The reality was that you missed him in ways you weren’t ready to admit.

Running into him was inevitable. Despite your best efforts to avoid the places he might be, your college was too small, too intertwined with memories of him.

The first time you saw him after the ultimatum was at a party you had reluctantly agreed to attend. You spotted him across the room, laughing with his friends, looking just as carefree as ever. Your heart twisted painfully in your chest, and for a moment, you felt stuck to the ground. But then he looked up, his eyes meeting yours, and the smile slipped from his face.

It was a small moment, one that no one else seemed to notice, but it felt like the all the air in your lungs had been sucked out. You forced yourself to look away, to focus on the conversation happening around you, but it was impossible to ignore the feeling of his eyes on you.

The second time was worse.

You were at the grocery store, just trying to get through your day when you turned a corner and nearly collided with him. The shock of seeing him so close, so unexpectedly, made you want to disappear on the spot.

You both mumbled awkward apologies, neither of you really saying anything of substance, just trying to avoid the awkwardness. But then he asked how you were.

“I’m fine,” you replied, too quickly, too sharply. The lie tasted bitter on your tongue.

He nodded, and for a moment, it looked like he wanted to say more, to reach out and touch you, but he didn’t. You both stood there, trapped in a painful silence, before you finally made an excuse and walked away, leaving him standing there in the aisle.

After that, the encounters became more frequent. You saw him at the beach, in coffee shops, passing by on the street. Each time, it was the same—an awkward exchange, a few forced pleasantries, and then a quick retreat. It was like the universe was conspiring against you, refusing to give you the space you so desperately needed.

And each time, it hurt just a little bit more. Seeing him in these mundane, everyday moments, like nothing had changed, made it harder to keep up the distance you’d built. It reminded you of all the times when being around him had felt natural, easy, like he was just supposed to be there.

But the worst part was the way he looked at you. Jessica had told you before. He’d never looked at any girl like that. And you stupidly held onto that tiny hope even if you shouldn’t. 

You’d been trying to keep it together all night, but the sight of Jessica and Tyler laughing together, so effortlessly in love, was making you bleed inside. The drinks kept coming, one after another, until the room started to blur around you. You didn’t even notice how much you were drinking—only that it was easier to keep swallowing than to think about Rafe. 

But the alcohol wasn’t enough to quiet your thoughts.

Instead, it seemed to amplify them, making everything feel sharper, more painful. Jessica and Tyler’s whispered words of affection, the way his hand rested on her thigh, the way she looked at him with pure adoration—You couldn’t stop thinking about how that should have been you and Rafe.  

By the time you realized you were too far gone, it was late. You stumbled as you stood up, the room spinning wildly around you. Someone—Jessica, maybe—asked if you were okay, but their voice was muffled, distant. You tried to nod, to say something reassuring, but your legs buckled beneath you, sending you crashing back into your chair.

"Whoa, easy there," Jessica’s voice was sharper now, filled with concern. She crouched down in front of you, her hands steadying you. “You’re not okay. We need to get you out of here.”

You tried to shake your head, to insist that you were fine, but the words wouldn’t come. The room was tilting, spinning, and you couldn’t focus on anything. Your vision was blurry, your limbs heavy, and you realized, with a sinking feeling, that you were too drunk to take care of yourself. You couldn’t even stand up, let alone make it home.

Panic started to set in. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to lose control like this. You weren’t supposed to need help.

“Jess… I’m fine…” The words slurred out of your mouth, but even you didn’t believe them.

“No, you’re not.” Jessica’s voice was firm now, almost authoritative. She glanced around, clearly trying to figure out what to do. The other girls were watching, their laughter fading into worried murmurs, “Baby, can you go and get her some water and sugar, please?”

She gently guided you to lean back, her hand on your shoulder to steady you. You tried to focus, tried to push through the fog in your mind, but everything was slipping away, your thoughts swirling together in a jumbled mess.

“Hey, stay with me, okay?” Her voice was softer now, almost pleading. She wasn’t just a concerned friend at this moment; she was scared. You’d never seen her like this before. 

“I—” You started, but the words tangled in your throat. You wanted to tell her that you were sorry, that you didn’t mean to ruin the night, that you just wanted to stop thinking about him for a couple of hours, but all that came out was a garbled sound that barely resembled a word.

“Shh, it’s okay,” she soothed, her thumb brushing lightly against your arm. “We’ll get you out of here. It’s gonna be okay.”

Tyler returned with the water and sugar, and Jessica took the glass, trying to get you to drink. The water felt cool against your lips, but swallowing was harder than it should’ve been. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge of consciousness.

“Come on, just a little more,” Jessica urged. You managed a few more sips before the glass slipped from your grasp, water sloshing onto your lap.

“Jess, I—” You tried again, but before you could finish, you heard another voice, one that sent a jolt through your foggy mind.

He was there, right in front of you, and you knew it was him without needing to open your eyes.

“Jesus Christ,” you heard him mutter. He crouched down, gently lifting your chin so you were forced to meet his eyes. “What the hell happened?”

“She had too much to drink,” Jessica explained quickly, her tone defensive, as if she expected him to start blaming her. “We were just about to get her out of here.”

You tried to smile, to play it off like it was no big deal, but all that came out was a shaky breath. “Too much… too much, Rafe…”

“I can see that,” he said, his tone softening as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. He turned to Jessica, his voice all business now. 

You didn’t know how long he had been standing there. Was your brain torturing you? Making you believe he was there?

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he knelt down beside you, his hands grabbing your trembling ones. “Hey,” he said, his voice softer now, as if he was afraid you might break into pieces if he spoke too loudly. “I’m gonna get you home, okay?”

You wanted to say no, to tell him that you didn’t need him, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you just nodded, too tired and too dizzy to fight it.

He exchanged a look with Jessica and she sighed, her worry morphing into something closer to relief. “I’ll help you get her to the car.”

Your legs were useless, and you sagged heavily against his chest. He didn’t hesitate, scooping you up in his arms like you weighed nothing, cradling you against him. His scent surrounded you, familiar and comforting, and despite everything, you found yourself leaning into him, letting your head rest against his shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his breath warm against your temple. “I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?”

You nodded weakly, too exhausted to argue. Your eyes fluttered shut as he carried you out, the sounds of the party fading away behind you.

The ride to your dorm was a blur. 

You were vaguely aware of Rafe’s arm around you, of Jessica sitting on your other side, rubbing your back in small circles. The motion of the car made your stomach churn, and you had to close your eyes to keep from getting sick. Uber or not, you weren’t about to ruin someone else’s car. 

When you finally arrived, he practically carried you inside while Jess fumbled with your keys before pushing the door open.

He led you to your bed, easing you down onto the mattress.

“I’ll stay with her,” he muttered, his voice leaving no room for argument. Jessica hesitated, looking between the two of you, before nodding slowly.

“Call me if you need anything,” she said to Rafe, squeezing his arm before she left.

You were barely aware of her leaving, still too drunk to process much of anything. He knelt down beside your bed, brushing a stray hair from your face. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” he murmured, his voice a soothing lullaby.

You wanted to say something, to tell him that you didn’t need him, that you were fine on your own.

You felt your bottom lip tremble. 

He noticed the change immediately, his blue eyes softening as he continued to gently brush the hair from your face. “Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered, his thumb lightly tracing the curve of your jaw. “Just breathe.”

But that only made it worse. You could feel the tears welling up as you realized just how much you’d missed this—missed him. The safety of his presence, the way he always seemed to know what you needed before you did.

Your stomach churned, the nausea that had been building since you first sat in the car finally reaching a breaking point.

“Rafe,” you mumbled, your voice weak and shaky, “I think I’m gonna—”

He reacted instantly, his arms tightening around you as he quickly looked the room. “Okay, okay, just breathe,” he said, “You’re gonn be fine.”

But breathing was the last thing on your mind as the room started spinning faster. You tried to push away from him, your hand gripping his shirt as you fought to keep it down.

“Rafe, I need to throw up,” you managed to gasp, panic rising in your chest.

He didn’t hesitate, scooping you up from the bed and hurrying toward the bathroom. You barely registered the fact he was touching you again after so long, your mind solely focused on the nausea.

He got you to the bathroom just in time, guiding you to the toilet as you collapsed in front of it. He held your hair back with one hand, the other rubbing soothing circles on your back as you retched, the sound of it echoing harshly in the small space.

“It’s okay, I’m right here,” he murmured, grounding you as you emptied your stomach. You could feel the heat of his hand on your back, the gentle way he kept your hair out of the way.

When it was over, you slumped against the cool porcelain, too exhausted to care about anything other than the relief of having the nausea finally subside. Rafe handed you a damp washcloth, and you pressed it against your face, the coolness soothing against your overheated skin.

“Better?” he asked softly, crouching down beside you. 

You nodded weakly, unable to meet his eyes. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “Thanks.”

He didn’t say anything, just stayed close, while you avoided his gaze entirely. The room was quiet now, the only sound the slow, steady rhythm of your breathing as you tried to regain some control.

“I’m sorry.”

You felt embarrassed, and vulnerable in a way you hadn’t expected, and you hated every second of it.

“Stop apologizing,” Rafe said gently, his hand still resting on your back. 

“Can you… can you stay over?” 

You didn’t want to be alone, not tonight, not with the way your heart was aching.

Rafe’s eyes softened, the way they did only for you, and for a moment, you thought he might agree, that he might stay and help you forget, even just for a little while. 

But then he shook his head, his expression pained.

“I can’t,” he said, his voice strained, like it hurt him to say it. “You know I can’t, sweets.”

You tried to hold it together, but it was no use. Before you could stop yourself, you were crying—quiet, heartbreaking sobs that you couldn’t control.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he reached out, brushing the tears from your cheeks, but it only made you cry harder. “I’m so sorry.”

You couldn’t even respond, the words tangled up in your throat. It wasn’t just that he wouldn’t stay; it was everything—the confusion, the heartbreak, the way you felt like you were losing him all over again, even though he was right there in front of you.

“Please don’t cry,” Rafe pleaded, his voice breaking. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against him. “I hate seeing you like this.”

You buried your face in his chest, the sobs shaking your entire body. The warmth of his touch, the familiar scent of him—it was too much, too close to everything you’d been trying to avoid. But you couldn’t pull away. You didn’t want to.

“I just… I just miss you,” you choked out, the words spilling from you in a broken whisper. “I miss you so much, Rafe.”

“I know,” he murmured, his voice cracking. “I miss you too.”

You clung to him, your fingers gripping his shirt like it was the only thing keeping him from disappearing. The tears wouldn’t stop, and neither would the ache in your chest, the one that had been there ever since you’d forced yourself to let him go.

“I wish things were different,” his usually bright eyes were dimmed, his brows drew together as if he was in pain. He looked at you like he was memorizing every detail, like he was afraid this might be the last time, “I keep hurting you.”

His hands trembled slightly as he pulled back just enough to look at you, his touch gentle as his fingers cradled your face. His thumbs brushed away the tears again, but they kept coming, fresh and spilling over. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but all that came out was a ragged breath.

“Please don’t hate me more for this,” he whispered, his voice rough, barely holding back. His eyes searched yours, desperate for reassurance, for something to cling to in this moment that felt like it was tearing you both apart.

“I could never hate you,” you whispered back, the words catching in your throat as the tears continued to fall. It hurt to say it, to admit it out loud.

He left that night.

You had almost convinced yourself that it was better this way, that moving on, that he did you a favor that night by leaving, that keeping him out of your life was the only solution. 

Staying away from you was killing him. 

⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ

Rafe spent his days trying to distract himself, throwing himself into his studies for the first time in his life, into parties, into anything that would take his mind off you. 

But nothing worked. Every time he saw something that reminded him of you, it was like a punch to the gut—a song you liked, a place you used to go together, even the smell of the ocean would bring memories crashing back. He missed you so much it hurt.

And when he saw you, it was even worse. The first time he ran into you after the break, it felt like the world had stopped spinning. He was at a party, trying to forget, trying to lose himself in the noise and the crowd, when he saw you across the room. For a moment, he thought he was imagining it, that his mind was playing tricks on him. But then your eyes met his, and his heart almost stopped.

You were as beautiful as ever, maybe even more so, but there was something different about you—something guarded, distant. But before he could even think about crossing the room to talk to you, you looked away, your expression closing off, leaving him standing there like an idiot, staring after you. 

He’d told you he’d wait for you and he intended on keeping that promise. He couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like to have you back, to hold you, to tell you how much he loved you, how sorry he was. He’d never felt this way about anyone before, never been this wrecked over a girl, but you weren’t just any girl. 

Rafe had never been good at groveling, at admitting he was wrong, but for you, he’d do anything. He’d get on his knees and beg if that’s what it took. He didn’t care about his pride anymore, not when it meant losing you. He was willing to do whatever it took to make things right, to prove to you that he was serious, that he loved you more than he ever thought possible.

But every time he saw you, he felt that hope slipping further away. The look in your eyes, the way you avoided him, it all felt like a final nail in the coffin. And yet, he couldn’t let go, couldn’t stop himself from yearning for you, from wanting you back in his life. He was going out of his mind, torn between respecting your wishes and fighting for you with everything he had.

Rafe knew he had to do something different, something that would show you just how much he had changed. The problem was, he didn't know what that was. He needed to find a way to prove to you that he was serious, that he was willing to put in the work to make things right.

So he started small.

He stopped going to parties, and stopped trying to drown out his feelings in distractions. Instead, he focused on becoming the person he thought you deserved—the person he knew he could be if he just tried. He started paying more attention in class, showing up on time, and actually studying. He even started volunteering, something he’d never done before, just to keep his mind occupied with something productive, something that wasn’t about him for once.

But the real change came when he began working on himself. He started seeing a therapist, something he’d always scoffed at before. He had a lot of baggage, a lot of unresolved issues that had driven him to hurt you in the first place, and he knew he needed to work through them if he ever wanted to be good enough for you.

It wasn’t easy. Therapy forced him to confront things he’d buried deep, things he’d avoided dealing with for years. Family trauma and all. But he stuck with it, because he knew it was the only way to get better, to be the kind of man you could trust again.

Slowly, he started to see changes in himself. He was more patient, more understanding, and more aware of how his actions affected others. He didn’t expect you to notice any of it—he was doing it for himself as much as for you—but he hoped that maybe, just maybe, you’d see that he was trying.

And then he had to pick you up that night.

He had never seen you drunk before, you’d always preferred your fruity punch over any other alcoholic drink. He’d always known you as strong, independent, someone who could hold your own. Seeing you like that—broken, hurting—made something in him snap. Was this his fault? Had he done this to you? 

He knew he couldn’t stay that night. As much as it killed him to leave, he understood that this was part of growing too—the part where he learned to respect your boundaries, to give you space even when all he wanted was to hold you and never let go. You’d hate yourself the next day. He was doing you both a favor. 

The next morning, Rafe didn’t text or call. He wanted to give you time, to process everything without the pressure of him hovering. Instead, he threw himself back into his routine, keeping himself busy but always with you at the back of his mind. He wondered if you remembered anything from the night before—how close he’d come to breaking down when you asked him to stay, how it had taken every ounce of self-control to walk away from you again.

Days passed, and he didn’t hear from you. It felt like a new kind of torture, but he stayed strong, if this was part of the process then so be it, he needed to be patient. 

He didn’t want to push you, didn’t want to make you feel like you owed him anything. But he couldn’t stop hoping that maybe, just maybe, you were thinking about him too.

So when the call came that you were in the hospital, his heart nearly fell through his ass. He didn’t think, didn’t hesitate—he just went.

The thought of you being hurt, of something happening to you, was enough to make him speed over the legal limit. He needed to see you, to make sure you were okay, even if it was the last thing he did.

When he got there, his heart clenched tightly in his chest as he pushed through the doors of the hospital. He hated hospitals, hated everything about them—the smell, the sterile white walls. But none of that mattered now. All he could think about was you.

The nurse at the front desk directed him to your room, and he practically sprinted down the hallway, his mind racing with a thousand worst-case scenarios. He’d been too fucking anxious to ask if you were okay, as soon as your name and the word hospital registered, he was rushing over. When he finally reached your door, he paused, his hand hovering over the doorknob. What if you didn’t want to see him? What if you told him to leave?

But then he heard your pretty voice, soft and familiar. He pushed open the door and there you were, sitting up in the hospital bed with a sprained ankle, looking more frustrated than hurt. He breathed out in relief, so intensely it made his knees weak.

“Rafe?” you blurted out, your eyes widening in surprise as you saw him standing there. “What are you doing here?”

He took a step closer, “They called me. I’m still your emergency contact.”

“Oh,” you muttered, looking down at your hands. “I didn’t realize.”

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, but he could see the tension in your shoulders, the way you were trying to hold it together. “It’s just a sprained ankle. Nothing serious. Did a little too much during practice."

Rafe nodded, but he didn’t move, didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. The sight of you in that hospital bed, even for something as minor as a sprained ankle killed him. 

“Hey,” you said softly, your voice pulling him out of his thoughts. “You don’t have to stay. I’m fine. Really.”

But he couldn’t leave. Not now, not when you were right in front of him, looking so small and vulnerable. He shook his head, his voice coming out rougher than before, “I’m not leaving.”

You blinked up at him, “But you don’t have to—”

“I’m not leaving,” he repeated, his voice firm. “I know you can handle yourself, but I’m staying.”

Surprisingly, you didn’t kick him out.  “Okay.”

He pulled up a chair beside your bed, settling in like he had no intention of going anywhere. The room was quiet, the only sound the faint beeping of the machines and the murmur of voices from the hallway outside. For a moment, neither of you said anything.  It was strange, being this close yet so far away from you. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, taking in the way yours had softened, the way the lines of worry on your face were starting to smooth out. You looked tired like you’d been lacking sleep. He wished he could help, even if just for a little while.

“You know,” he said quietly, breaking the silence, “I used to think I was pretty good at taking care of myself. But then I met you, and I realized I’d never really let anyone take care of me before. Not like you did.”

“Rafe—”

“No, let me finish,” he interrupted gently, “I’m still here. I’ll always be here, even if all I can do is sit in a hospital room with you and make sure you’re okay.”

You looked down at your hands, a small, sad smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“I missed you,” you whispered, the words so quiet he almost didn’t hear them.

His breath caught in his throat, his heart squeezing painfully at the admission. “I missed you too,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion.

“Thank you for that night.”

He shifted slightly in his chair, leaning a little closer, careful not to overwhelm you but needing to be nearer all the same.

“I didn’t do anything special,” he murmured, though his mind replayed the events of that night. The helplessness he’d felt seeing you in that state, knowing there was little he could do to make it better. He hadn’t been sure then if you’d even wanted him there, but he’d helped you anyway. He couldn’t leave you, not when you needed someone—when you needed him.

“You were there,” a tear slipped down your cheek, and he instinctively reached out, his thumb gently wiping it away. The touch was soft, almost reverent, and it made your breath get stuck in your throat.  “That’s more than enough.”

You leaned into his touch for a moment, savoring the comfort it brought, even though it hurt to let yourself feel it, “Just glad you’re safe.”

“Why did you come?”

“Because I love you,” he admitted, tired of carrying the truth inside him, “I know I screwed up—God, I know that. But I’ve spent every day since trying to be better, trying to be the kind of man you deserve. And I know I have a long way to go, but I’m not giving up. Not on you. Not unless you ask me to.”

“You love me?”

Your voice sounded so meek, so unsure it made him want to punch himself in the face. This was entirely his doing. 

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. He looked nervous, and vulnerable, “Yeah,” he said, “I do. I’m in love with you, I just—” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “I didn’t know how to say it, or maybe I was too scared to. Didn’t want to make you think I was saying it to save my ass, y’know?”

You’d always wondered what it would be like to hear those words from him, to have him admit that he cared for you in the same way you cared for him. 

“I didn’t want to push you,” he continued, fingers intertwined, “But I couldn’t keep it in anymore. I couldn’t let you think that I didn’t care, that I didn’t want this, want you.”

You blinked, trying to process everything he was saying. This was the Rafe you’d always hoped for—the one who was honest and unafraid to show his emotions. But it was also the Rafe who had hurt you, who had made mistakes that left scars you weren’t sure had fully healed.

“Rafe, I—” you started, but the words caught in your throat.

“You don’t have to say it, sweets. It’s okay.”

“I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice shaking. “I’m scared of getting hurt again, of going back to that place where everything fell apart.”

He had changed—you could see it in the way he carried himself, in the way he spoke to you. He wasn’t the same Rafe who had hurt you.

"I’m not asking you to trust me right away," he continued, though there was a hint of desperation in it. "I know I need to earn that. But please, give me a chance to prove it. I don’t want to lose you again."

"You can’t wait for me forever.”

“I’d wait for you a lifetime. I told you,” His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tensing when he spoke, as if he was trying not to cry, “If you ever want me, I’m yours.”

His hands, usually so restless, were still now, resting on his knees as he leaned slightly forward in his chair. You saw the man he was trying to be—the man he wanted to be for you. He wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot, but he was trying. And that had to count for something.

“Even if I made you wait until we’re eighty and grey?”

Rafe let out a breathless laugh, the sound strained but genuine, “Even then,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “You’re it for me.”

It scared you how much you wanted to believe him, how much you wanted to pull him into your arms and tell him that he was it for you too. He reached out, his hand hovering near yours, waiting for you to close the distance. You hesitated for only a moment before your fingers intertwined with his.  It felt right, like coming home after being lost for so long.

He squeezed your hand gently, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what you were thinking, feeling. He looked like he was holding his breath.

“I love you too.”

It was still scary, still uncertain, but you realized that nothing worth having ever came easy. And Rafe, with all his flaws and all his efforts to be better, was worth it.

He exhaled, his shoulders sagging in relief, “I don’t deserve you,” he said whispered, lips pressed against your fingers, “But I’m going to spend every day trying to. I swear, I’ll never stop trying.”

You closed your eyes, “You’re gonna make me cry.”

Rafe’s grip on your hand tightened, as if he could physically hold you together through sheer will alone. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” he started, his voice panicked, but you shook your head, cutting him off.

“No, it’s okay,” you whispered, opening your eyes to meet his. “I just… it’s been a long time since I let myself feel this way.”

He nodded, his thumb gently brushing against the back of your hand in slow, soothing circles. “You don’t have to hold back with me. Not anymore. Whatever you’re feeling, it’s okay.”

The tears you’d been holding back spilled over, running down your cheeks. Rafe was there instantly, his other hand reaching up to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing away the tears with a tenderness that made your heart hurt.

“I’m so sorry,” his voice cracked, “For everything I put you through.”

You leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand grounding you, giving you the strength to keep going. “I was so miserable Rafe,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “Scared that if I let you back in, I’d get hurt again. Scared that I’d lose you all over again.”

“I know,” he said, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the small space between you. “And I promise you, I’m not going anywhere this time. I’m here, and I’m not going to let you down.”

“I want to try.”

Rafe’s breath hitched, and he pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes searching yours as if he couldn’t  believe what he was hearing. “You do?”

You nodded, a small, tentative smile forming on your lips. “I do. But we need to take it slow, okay? I need time.”

“Of course,” he said quickly, his eyes bright with hope. “We’ll go as slow as you need. I don’t fucking care sweets, I’m not leaving.”

You weren’t just giving him another chance—you were giving yourself one too. A chance to heal, to forgive, and to find your way back to each other.

Rafe pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering for a moment as if sealing the promise between you. “We’ve got this,” he murmured against your skin. “It’s you and me, okay?”

“You and me.”

Rafe’s eyes softened, and a genuine smile tugged at his lips, one that reached his eyes and made them crinkle at the corners. It was a smile you hadn’t seen in a long time, and seeing it made you want to bawl all over again. His hand cradled your cheek, his fingers tracing delicate circles on your jaw as his eyes locked onto yours, silently asking for permission, for forgiveness, for a chance to be close to you again. And when his lips finally brushed against yours, whatever pain you were feeling on your ankle disappeared. 

The kiss was soft, tentative at first, like he was afraid you might pull away, afraid to push too far too soon. But the moment your lips pressed back against his, that tentative touch deepened. Rafe’s hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t stand to be apart from you even for a second. You could feel the desperation in the way his lips moved against yours, the way his breath hitched when you parted your lips to let him in.

Just as you were about to lose yourself in him, the door to your room swung open with a creak. You both froze, lips still touching, as someone cleared their throat.

You pulled away from each other reluctantly, your cheeks flushed, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Your eyes met Rafe’s and you saw the same blush of color on his face, the same love-sick expression that you were sure mirrored your own.

The doctor stood in the doorway, a clipboard in hand, a bemused smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Well, I see you’re feeling better.”

Rafe cleared his throat, stepping back slightly, his hand still lingering on your arm as if he couldn’t bring himself to let go just yet. “Uh, yeah, she’s doing great,” he mumbled.

“You must be the boyfriend.”

You couldn’t help the grin that took over, “Yeah. He is.”

[allpiesforourown]

I have such intense feelings for your bingyuan roommate au, it’s unreal. Binghe would be the BIGGEST green tea bitch/pick me girl but only towards sy, no one else. encountering lbh in the wild first and then experiencing him next to sy would be a fever dream of epic proportions. actual dozens of women would want to behead him and rip out his guts. bc lbh would ditch them on their birthday, an actual medical emergency, or anything critical at all just bc sy vaguely implied he was hungry (lbh now HAS to cook for him, it is not a want, it is a NEED)

And sy would be worse then evvvver, lol. “That’s my little didi binghe, he’s so sweet and sensitive, girls are always breaking his heart :((( If I were his girlfriend I’d get married to him next week and bounce on him silly style. Too bad no one will ever appreciate binghe like I do :(((((” and it is only after MANY of those thoughts that he realizes that he might not feel all that brotherly towards lbh

on a hornier note, I’m at a toss up between thinking that lbh would bring his hookups/girlfriends back to his and sy’s home and fucking them there (bc in lbh’s mind he can’t cum right without the reminder of his gege… and what if gege walked in 🤤… maybe lbh can get him to join…) or him absolutely refusing to let any of them so much as glance at his gege (no one should look at sy except him)

EXACTLY EXACTLY EXACTLY you get it anon.

It's literally like

Woman: let's have a threesome with your friend

Binghe: the idea sounds so appealing but I don't want some stranger getting his hands on him! I don't want to share him with someone who doesn't show him the love he needs. I'm the only one who knows him well enough to be in a threesome with shen yuan

Woman: thats sex. You're just describing regular two people sex. You want to fuck your best friend.

In my head for this au I imagine them as long time friends.. shen yuan found binghe getting bullied at a park or something when they were kids and told his bullies to fuck off. Then he listened to binghe cry about how he's so worried about his sick mom being overworked and begged his parents to hire binghes mom. With way better pay, hours, and work environment, her health improved a lot and she's good friends with shen yuans parents.

Binghe tells himself he acts like shen yuans guard dog because he'll always be grateful for what he's done for his family, but really, he fell in love with his Yuan ge at first sight the second he saw a boy standing up for him instead of ignoring his bullying.

Someone: say something nice about your best friend

Binghe: oh I have so much to say! He's so sweet and intelligent and adorably nerdy ! He saved me and my mom and-

Someone: say something nice about your girlfriend

Binghe: um..... uh ...... well.... sometimes she... hmm......

The poor women he dates. They'd go through SO much suffering trying to "fix" him and then when they finally give up after going through hell itself, they see bingge and shen yuan get together and suddenly the most negligent terrible boyfriend in the world is buying flowers and posting corny pictures on Instagram and proposing a few months into the relationship.

Shen yuan: I can't believe I managed to bag someone as handsome beautiful and loving as binghe. He wakes up at 6am every morning to get started on breakfast so he can feed me in bed. He's so attentive I worry I'm taking advantage of him. How did he get broken up with so often? No one appreciates people like binghe

Everyone else binghe has ever dated: I told him I got stabbed and he left me on read

[hotyanderedaddies]

Yandere Jock wants Nerdy You... Badly

🦦: Hi, it's my first time requesting without anon, so please excuse any awkwardness.

Can I request maybe yandere jock/bully x  extremely anxious male reader with an oral fixation? Only if you want, though.

A/N: I decided to go with jock since I haven’t written that yet. Hope you like it!

[Yandere! Jock x Anxious! GN! Reader]

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

Chase is the captain of the baseball team, and he’s helped lead the team to several victories. He’s an all-star athlete and has scores of girls (and some guys) throwing themselves at his feet. As if his position at the top of the school sports hierarchy wasn’t enough, the young man was also blessed with a pretty impressive body too— muscles for days and coming in well over six feet tall.

And he loves you so much!

But you don’t pay too much attention to Chase because you’re too busy hiding away from everyone due to your extreme social anxiety.

It feels like a curse, really. The mere thought of being trapped in a building (a.k.a. school, *shudder) with a whole bunch of other people who all stare at you and talk about you behind your back is torture!

Hence, you try your best to blend into the crowd and not stand out.

After reading a tip in a mental health article, you resulted to sucking on hard candy when you get stressed out. Your nerves start to climb? You pop a little mint into your mouth and suck on it.

It helps.

And it also garnered the attention of a certain jock.

The mere millisecond that Chase had first seen you popping a piece of candy into your mouth and sucking on it as if your life depended on it, he swore his heart had skipped a beat.

“So cute,” he’d whispered to himself as his eyes honed in on you— focusing on his cute little darling.

He has something else for you to suck on.

And from that moment on, Chase knew you are his.

You just didn’t know it yet. He just had to court you.

Unfortunately, with your social anxiety, that proved to be a little challenge to the lovesick jock.

Chase would frequently wait by your locker for you, trying to strike up a simple conversation that would lead to him asking you out. However, every time you’d see the big guy, you would turn bright red and pop a candy into your mouth, turning around and heading straight for your class instead.

Chase tried to offer you a ride home so that you wouldn’t have to ride the bus— but the idea of one-on-one time in a cramped car with a guy sent shivers down you spine, and you’d barely had time to blurt out, “No thanks!” before sprinting to the bus.

Chase even “surprisingly” transferred into some of your classes. And with one glare at the students sitting next to you, they’d fled, allowing him to take any seat that was closest to yours… but you would refuse to look up from your textbooks, your jaw clenched as you sucked on some hard candy.

But Chase is persistent.

One day, as you’re leaving English class, Chase utilizes his impressive bulk to block the classroom exit from you.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said in his deep voice, trying to act all nonchalant, yet his Adam’s apple quivered when he noticed you sucking on something.

“Oh,” you muttered, your face already growing cherry red, “h-hi Chase.” The exaggerated size difference between you and the jock was striking. He completely towered over you and was at least twice as wide with solid muscle. It really made your heart beat faster, both from fear and a little because you thought it was hot.

You sucked on your candy even harder.

Chase casually leaned against the door jam, crossing his big arms in front of his beefy chest. “So, I was wonderin’ if you’d come see me play tonight?” he asked, playfully flexing his massive biceps, the muscle curling out of his short sleeves with the action.

Your eyes widened, but still, the idea of being in the crowded bleachers with a bunch of screaming, rowdy people wasn’t something you looked forward to.

“Um…” you began, trying to think up an excuse to turn Chase down.

Chase could sense your hesitation, and before you could put two and two together, the large jock reached out and snatched you up. He easily tossed you over his broad shoulder, as if you weighed absolutely nothing.

Chase felt on top of the world carrying you, like this was where you belonged: in his arms.

You were stunned silent, unable to move a muscle while in the strong grip of the large jock, who carried you off towards where you assumed would be the gym…

But Chase passed the gym, and even exited the school, heading towards the parking lot.

“Um, wh-where are we going?” you asked. “I thought you had a game?”

Chase puffed out his chest with pride.

He has you! He finally has you! And he’s not going to let go.

Chase stopped in front of his car, practically tossing you inside.

He quickly ran to the driver’s side, starting up the car and speeding off, taking you, his Darling, home with him so that he can really see your sucking skills in action!

[knowyourplace-fool]

Bully gojo and shy oc !! Who always torments you and humiliates you. Makes you do all his works and you do out of fear. You don't question him and feels smug . He tells how he hates you( but actually he likes her a lot but he doesn't confess because ypu keep rejecting every guy so he thinks you don't accept him either) and tells you that you are just a burden on this earth but then you get into an accident and don't come to scl for a week. Gojo doesn't know what happened to you and can't find out cuz you don't have frnds either. After a week you come to schl with a bandage to your head and a fracture sling on your arm. He gets worried and clings onto you and tou lash out for the first time telling him that he got what he wanted and he could be happy now. He gets angry and kidnaps you and fucks you🙃

-> omfg YES! gojo is such a bully

-> sorry for any mistakes!

⚠️: NON CON, Kidnapping, Mean!Gojo, physically, mental and emotional abuse, manhandling, bullying, biting, groping, size difference

-> THIS IS REALLY DARK AND FUCKED UP PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK !

All you’ve ever done is mind your own business

Sure, you don’t have many friends but that doesn’t really bother you

You enjoy being independent. Your grades are high in the air, your part time job in your school is more than enough for you to live comfortably. (In this universe, inflation doesn’t exist)

You don’t really talk to anyone, not even family. Whole bunch of drama happened, and they were toxic so you ended up leaving them for university.

Everything seemed to be going as planned until a 6’4 menace walked into your life.

Gojo Satoru was your typical frat boy and the star of the university’s basketball team.

Some may even say the Golden Boy of your university. He was smart, athletic, had a good reputation among the professors and just with people in general. Not to mention, he was ridiculously handsome. Man literally had girls fighting over him.

You’ve seen him in the hallways but never actually interacted with him. He was in a few of your classes but luckily, you guys never were put together in a group.

Until today. Your prof is running a lab and gathered the smartest students he knows to do it for him. It’s kind of a two in one for him, the lab gets complete and you guys gain some experience.

Anyways, the group consists of you, Satoru and his friend Suguru and some other nerdy people

Now unlike Gojo, you already sorta knew Geto. He was really friendly and kind towards you so you were kind of excited to be working with him.

A few days into the lab and Gojo has a sudden fixation with you. Well he always had, but this lab is letting him work closely with you and it’s making his obsession worse.

You’re stupid if you think that Gojo Satoru hasn’t kept on eye out for you. Every time you walk by him in the halls, he gets a hard on just by catching a whiff of you. The cute skirts and the pastel closet you have drives him over the fucking edge.

It takes every cell in his body to resist the urge of grabbing ur wrist, pulling u into the janitors closet and fucking you absolutely dumb and stupid.

You look so cute and innocent, like a little bunny. And god, you are just an easy target to corrupt.

So, Gojo plans a party. A party on the following Saturday after your lab is complete because he knows that you’ll be free.

His plan is to get you to come, keep you company, get you a little hammered, then get a feel of your pussy. Simple plan.

It’s now up to Geto to get you to come to this party. And of course, for his best friend, he’s 100% on board with his plan.

All goes well in the lab and in your final days of completing the report, Geto asked the big question.

“Satoru and I are throwing a party tomorrow. If you’re free, we’d love for you to come. You can bring anyone you want.”

You blush. Party? Your first party? Your brain breaks out in celebration because as much as you liked to spend your weekend relaxing, you also have a severe case of fomo. (Fear of missing out)

Your eyes lit up, saying yes on the spot in excitement. The following day, you went back to your dorm and tore your closet apart, looking for a nice dress. You settled for a blue, body con, summer dress. (despite it not being a party dress but who gives af bc it’s summer)

The next night, you got all dolled up for the party. You made arrangements with Geto to pick you up. He made it on time, looking handsome in his all black fit with his hair in a bun.

You were excited… for nothing.

There was a party (a lit one), but you realized a little too late that your social skills were next to non existent. The whole time, you felt out of place. So you stood in the corner, drink in hand and watched others dance and interact with each other.

“You don’t look like you’re having fun.”

You turn your head only to be faced with a bright blue eyed man, the one and only Gojo Satoru.

“I guess partying is not my thing.”

“Oh come on, come with me.”

He grabbed your hand and headed towards the beer pong table

You and Gojo were a team and surprisingly you two worked perfectly together

The alcohol in your system made you flush, and you found yourself loosening up a bit and having a bit of fun.

Gojo’s plan seemingly was rolling out perfectly. You were a bit drunk, so he took you back to his room to “sober up” (but it was just an excuse to get u alone so he can fuck u but u don’t know that)

Now listen, Gojo got rizz alright. So imagine the look on his face when he went in to kiss you and you slapped him so hard, his face turned the other way.

“I’m not some whore you can use for tonight. I was genuinely having a good time with you, I don’t know why you had to make it sexual.”

You felt like crying. Is this what all guys think about?? Sex?

You get off the bed and head towards the door before you’re pulled back and thrown on the bed

“Satoru, stop! I want to go home.”

And just like how you did with him, he slapped you. Much, much harder.

He didn’t say anything, he just had this look in his eyes that could honestly kill. He took a hold of your wrist with one hand and let his other roam and touch your body.

He pulled your dress up, revealing the lacy, white, underwear you wore. You were a teensy bit wet, not because of him but maybe the alcohol? Or his best friend?

You don’t know, but Gojo thought the wet spot was because of him.

“Tch, saying you don’t wanna hook up but you’re fucking wet f’me.”

He pulled you closer to the head board, reaching out to his night stand and pulling out,,,, cuffs?

“Wait wait wait wait!” You say in a panic. You squirm to get your wrist free but once you feel the metal snake around your wrists and the click afterwards, you were doomed.

Your dress was ripped off by him. Your panty was somewhere on the ground and he easily took off your bra by doing the same thing he did with your dress. You laid nude under him, against your will.

As you can imagine, the night went terribly for you. You weren’t a virgin but it had been a while since you had sex (all the way back in high school) and really it was your first time with someone so experienced.

The next morning, you woke up with him cuddling you from behind while his lanky legs were intertwined with yours

You somehow managed to escape his grip and sneak out of the house before anyone could notice. You did have work, but decided to call in because of… well for obvious reasons.

On Monday, you dreaded to go to school. But with midterms coming around the corner, you couldn’t afford to miss a lecture. You dressed in baggy clothes and took a different route to class to avoid Satoru.

The day was going alright until you had to go to the library to pick out a few books to help you on an assignment.

While you were reaching on your tippy toes, someone behind you grabbed the book which made you quickly turn around. Your eyes meet his bright, blue eyes.

“You’re avoiding me now?”

The anger that overcame you in that moment was indescribable. You wanted to scream at him, hit him, threaten him or somehow bring him down, but you couldn’t.

“Did I fuck you mute? Answer me.”

You took a deep breath in and said, “leave me alone”

“Why? What, you think you’re too good for me? That I don’t have enough worth to fuck you? Is that what it is?”

He grabbed your cheeks with one hand and squished them together, pushing you back against the bookshelf in the process. He was holding you so hard, you couldn’t move.

“Listen to me, you slut. Don’t get our roles mixed here. You’re literally a piece of shit next to me. You hold no value in this world. If you died, no one would even think twice about it because no one gives a flying fuck about you. You think you’re soooo fucking special or something. You think you’re too good for everyone. Well you’re not. You’re just a broke whore, with no friends, no family, no hobby— nothing.”

He roughly let’s go of your face that you nearly fall to the floor. You tried your best but couldn’t help but cry at his words. Gojo swings off his backpack, grabs a note package and hands it to you.

“This assignment is due tomorrow at noon. I haven’t gotten the chance to start it because of basketball. So you’re going to do it for me cause you’re a worthless, bunny that has nothing else to do after school hours. And before you think about handing in something stupid, take a look at this.”

He pulls out his phone and in a matter of 10 seconds, you felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach.

A video. Of you. Getting fucked by the Gojo Satoru. It’s evident that you’re crying but it’s easy to cover it up with an “excuse”. Your face held a horrified expression.

“P-please, delete that! Please, I’ll do it but please just- just delete the video please!”

“No, not until that assignment is handed in and I have to get 100% on it. If it isn’t handed in or I don’t receive 100%, this will be leaked to everyone in a matter of minutes. I’ll post this shit everywhere with your full name on it, got it?”

You felt like crying and throwing up at the same time. This felt worse than a nightmare. This felt worse than dying even. “Okay, I’ll try my best but I don’t know if I can get-”

“If you don’t get 100 on this assignment, I’m leaking it. I don’t give a shit. I already showed Suguru— sick bastard got off to it, and I’m sure many more will too if you don’t score 100.”

He picks up his backpack and leaves while you stood in distraught. The following night, after work, you immediately started on his assignment. You saw the assignment date and it was assigned 3 weeks ago. He wants you to do 3 weeks of work in 15 hours.

Somehow, you pulled through the night. Researching the best you can on the internet and trying to make it as best as you possibly could. You were able to send him the file at 11:30am so he could skim through it and hand it in.

You ended up leaving early for the day so you could go home and get some sleep. When you woke up the next morning, your nearly dead phone kept ringing over and over.

You pick it up and see hundreds of notifications on various social media’s and a few iMessages

Your thumb clicked on one of the iMessage notifications and there was Satoru’s name with the following message:

“I told you, only 100%”

Below the message was an image of his mark

A 98%

You swipe off of iMessage and open Instagram and boom

Hundreds of new follower requests, numerous dms and clicking of Gojo Satoru’s story, was the video of him blowing your back.

You checked Snapchat and there it was on his story too. You wanted to die. You wanted to dig a hole and bury yourself alive than live another day in this situation.

Later that day, you had received an email from the dean’s office regarding a “very sensitive and confidential” meeting that would be taking place tomorrow.

You had an idea of what it might be about but hope and prayed to god that it wasn’t what you were thinking.

But to your luck, this meeting was regarding your sex tape and how there is no longer a spot for you on the dean’s list or team.

Your whole world was crumbling apart. You spent your whole life to get to where you are today, only for him to ruin it in a matter of 12 hours.

You left the building slowly, still deeply thinking about what you could’ve done to prevent this. How stupid you are to go to that party and slap the Gojo Satoru.

“Why is this happening to me?”

All of a sudden, everything goes black.

You wake up in a hospital. Your head felt heavy and your arms was twitching. You look around and see… no one. The nurse catches a glimpse of your eyes and quickly walks in to check on you.

She explains that you were in an accident and that they tried to get in contact with an emergency contact but you hadn’t stated anyone. You stayed at the hospital overnight so they can monitor your brain activity and fortunately they were able to discharge you the next morning.

You took the rest of the week off from school and Gojo Satoru was losing his mind. He had spammed called you from various numbers but you weren’t answering your phone at all. He went from his usual mean insults to angry insults to pleading for a response back.

He doesn’t see you until Monday, with a bandage around your head and your arm in a cast which is also in a sling. He nearly runs to you, wanting nothing but to embrace you.

And he does. Holds onto you tightly, inhaling your shampoo until you knee his in the balls.

He immediately drops down and you completely lose your cool. “Don’t fucking touch me! I hate you! You ruined my life! You’re not allowed to touch me after you forced me to have sex with you and shared the video with the entire campus! You got what you wanted Satoru! You stole everything from me! Broke my entire world, burned my hard work down! Made me feel worthless! And now you want to act all concerned?! I hope you rot in hell!”

You ended up going home for the day, otherwise another headache would’ve set in. You took a quick lap before getting up and getting ready for work because those hospital bills weren’t going to pay themselves.

You had the closing shift and although working with one hand was quite the challenge, you desperately needed the money.

After closing up, the walk to your apartment is about 10 minutes away. Everything was going fine until a car quickly pulled up next to you, two men sprung out and shoved you into the car before you even had the chance to react.

One of them had his hand over your mouth while the other held your legs together.

You were blindfolded and tied in the car and after a while the car came to a stop and you were carried out.

You were thrown on the floor and when the blindfold was removed, you were met with his eyes again.

You immediately started crying. You were afraid and quite frankly exhausted of everything that’s happened over the last week.

“Please. I’m sorry. Just let me go. I’ll never ever bother you again. I’m sorry.”

You plead and beg but you hear his belt unbuckling. “Please! Please, I beg you Satoru! I’m sorry! I can’t- I can’t do it again please!”

You were left unheard. He threw you on the bed and tied your limbs to the bed. One of your arms was already in extreme pain and the other arm was starting to hurt too because of how tightly he tied you.

Every ounce of hope drained from your body when you felt his cock push into you. He pushed your head into the mattress and fucked you hard, like there was no tomorrow. Your tears soaked the mattress. Sweat, tears and snot covering your puffing face.

Satoru went on for hours. Abs glistening in sweat, his arm veins popping out because of how hard he was holding you. Not to mention his cock was coated with loads of cum.

You were passed out by the time he finished with you. Your body shaking on its on, cum dripping out your cunt and marks/bruises left all over your soft skin.

Hopefully his bunny learned her lesson.

[ilovepaigebueckerss]

mystery roommate

pairing: p.b x fem! reader

word count: 481

summary: While Paige and KK were live you made an appearance not knowing what it would lead to.

HI GUYSSSS!! i do still write dw🥰 i whipped this up rq so yall wouldn’t fg abt me so its not proofread at all🙏🙏 also i feel like smut would be soo good in this story but i have never wrote smut and i dont think i would be good at it sooo🌚 OKAY ENOUGH YAPPING ENJOY THE STORY

-love gab 💋

_______________________________

KK and Paiges laughter filled the room as they were on live interacting with their fans. You were sitting on the couch right beside them watching a movie on your laptop. You and Paige were roommates, but the fans didn’t really know who you were. You made an appearance on one of their lives before and everyone went crazy.

“Y/N they wanna know where you are” Paige says smirking playfully. You laugh, “Im right here.” You wave awkwardly at the camera.

@paigebueckersiswife: shes glowinggg

@kkarnoldfan: PAIGES MYSTERYY ROOMMATEE

“Y/N the fans love youu, come chat!” KK says waving her hands in a ‘come here’ motion. You shrug your shoulders “Why not” You exclaim walking over to sit next to Paige on the couch.

You and Paige were sitting kind of close to eachother but you didn’t even notice. Paige on the other hand was going crazy. She had a crush on you ever since you first moved in with her. She was too scared to admit her feelings for you so she just stayed quiet.

As you were talking to the chat you noticed Paige staring at you in the corner of your eye. Of course this didn’t go unnoticed by the fans and the chat started going crazy.

@uconnwbbfann: did i miss a chapter?..

@ilovemyman: i dont even blame paige

“Okay live we finna hop off! Thanks for tuning in.” KK says in a nerdy voice. She clicks off the live, “Bye P boogers! Bye Y/N!” She says grabbing her things and walking towards the door. “Bye KK” You and Paige say in unison.

“Im gonna get back to my movie now” You announce walking back to your designated spot on the couch. “Can I join you?” You look up at her and smile excited she wanted to spend time with you. You nod and make your way next to Paige. Paige takes notice of you squirming trying to get comfy. “Uh.. if you want you can lay on me.” She suggests. You happily oblige and lay on her lap, “You can pick the movie.”

TIME SKIP

An hour into the movie and Paige could hear your light snores and heavy breathing. She turned off the movie and carefully picked you up and carried you to your bed.

THE NEXT MORNING

The sun peaking from your curtains shone on your face causing you to wake up. You opened your phone to see hundreds of notifications. You unlock your phone and open TikTok to see you were tagged in a video.

The caption on the video read, “are we not gonna talk about paige and y/n on live??” You chuckle lightly at the comment. You continued to scroll on tiktok and see people were already making ship edits of you and Paige. You even found yourself liking and favoriting some.

‘What did I get myself into’ You think to yourself laughing.

[alexthebordercollie]

it's nice to see mystery trio aus that aren't fiddlestan tbh. The amount of times I'll see one, think it looks interesting, and then it just turns into "wow Stan, you're so much nicer and cooler than your lame brother! Lets date!" And act like it's some kind of karma for Ford or something.

I definitely agree with your take that so often fiddlestan is just used as a way to express dislike of Ford, while ignoring any of Stan's canonical flaws

As a side note, since this is more of personal headcanon territory, but i think Stan would find Fiddleford too reminiscent of Ford when he was young to actually be interested.

Anyway, i always love to see Stan in his natural habitat (being a chaotic uncle)

I love the idea of the Mystery Trio. I think these three would play off each other really well. They're cute and funny together, but you don't need Fiddlestan. It feels like people treat it as a given that if offered the choice between Stan and Ford Fidds would choose Stan. Which is kind of shitty. (Low key it kind of reads to me like Ford is assumed the worse partner because he's autistic :/ even if people aren't consciously treating him that way.)

I think it's kind of presumptuous to assume Fidds would be into Stan anyway. Like physically attracted to him? Sure, obviously. If he finds Ford attractive odds are good Stan would also be nice to look at, but relationships aren't just physical attraction and it's obvious from the journals and BOB that Fidds had a very strong connection to Ford. If he's in love with an autistic nerd enough to throw his life away for him why would people assume Stans's wildly contrasting personality would somehow be more appealing?

I've actually had this comic kicking around in my mind for a while and this ask gave me a good excuse to draw it. (Though it took longer than expected)

While I don't think Fidds would ever choose Stan over Ford, I do think Ford would be a bit of a jealous and insecure partner. He's used to a lot of social rejection and struggles to maintain connections with people. Not to mention trust issues, especially after Bill who tried to sabotage his faith in Fiddleford in particular.

I wouldn't put it past Ford to get antsy seeing Fidds get along with his brother even if there's absolutely nothing going on there.

Also, I hadn't considered the suggestion that Stan might find Fidds nerdiness a turn-off because it reminds him too much of his brother, but yeah I could see it. Still, I'd buy Stan being interested in Fidds before I could really see the other way around happening. I think Stanley's tastes are bit broader but Fiddleford I imagine to have a bit more of a type. At least where romantic attraction is concerned. That said I don't think Fiddleford's actual tastes are really considered, I think he gets shipped with Stanley by people who want to see Stanley get that kind of overbearing love that Fidds showed to Ford. I do understand wanting to give him that kind of partner but Ford deserves love too, we don't need to be taking his healthy romantic option away from him and leave him with Bill. (His abuser.)

[natalievoncatte]

It took four calls before Lena answered. It crawled across her side table, vibrating angrily like some persnickety insect until she gave it the attention she wanted.

You could just turn it off.

“What do you want, Danvers?”

Alex’s voice was thick.

“We can’t find Kara.”

Lena let out a slow, long, theatrical sigh. “So now you’re accusing me of crimes over the phone. At least your ex had the courtesy to cuff me in person.”

Alex’s patience was clearly short enough, and wearing thinner.

“I’m not calling you to accuse you. I’m calling you to ask for help.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because she’s burned out her powers and we can’t find her, Luthor. Supergirl is missing and she’s powerless.”

Lena licked her lips.

“Is this some kind of weird test to see if I’ll try to kill her? An entrapment scheme or something?”

“First of all,” said Alex, “fuck you.”

“Mutual,” said Lena. “What was the second part?”

“The second part is that I know you. I know you’re pissed off at her. I also know that you don’t react the way you’ve acted because your BFF lied to you, Lena. Just like I know that buying a $875 million company isn’t what friends are fucking for.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean,” Lena snapped.

“Right. Help us find her.”

“No,” Lena said, coolly. “Goodnight, Director.”

Lena stabbed the end call key with her finger, resolving to herself that L-Corp was going to release a smart phone that made it more satisfying to hang up on people.

Then she very pointedly did not go out looking for Kara. Instead, she boiled water for tea, and spread open a technical journal on her lap.

After ten minutes, she had not drunk the tea, and her attention was sliding off the abstract like the wrong end of two magnets jammed together. Rubbing at her eyes, she decided she’d had too long a day for even light reading, and decided to enjoy a news broadcast with her tea.

Of *course* the lead story was Supergirl. She tried putting on the Lakehawks game, but that had been preempted for Supergirl coverage.

She turned to the science channel. Oh, of course they’d decided that tonight was the night to premier some ridiculous companion documentary for the World of Krypton exhibit running downtown at the convention center, and of course Lena works tune in right as Kara appeared on screen, grinning ear to ear as she charitably gave some literal kid reporter the interview of her lifetime, fielding softball questions about her dead planet.

“What do you miss most?” the kid asked.

Lena saw it, saw it the way only someone who knew Supergirl was just Kara Danvers, the nerdy, dorky, kinda basic goof in a pompous costume, could. The flash of real pain in the hero’s eyes, the softness in her voice, like she was apologizing for the honest of her answer.

“Red sunrises,” said Kara.

Lena threw the teacup across the room, and it shattered across the screen, leaving the dregs tricking down the surface. Lena wished the TV had been knocked out, but the screen was shielded by a transparent aluminum she’d invented herself.

So she changed the channel, just in time to get a face full of The Princess Bride, just as Buttercup was shoving a then-disguised Westley down the hill as he shouted the line the revealed his identity.

“Oh fuck you all,” Lena muttered, as she scooped her keys from the kitchen counter.

Lena decided it was a night for subtlety, so she took the BMW, driving with the top down and and her phone in her jacket pocket, so she could feel it if someone called.

Lena drove for the better part of an hour, reflecting on the absurdity of simply looking for Kara in a sprawling city; National City had about two thirds the population of Metropolis, but it covered nearly four times the land area and was surrounded by sprawling suburbs that extended the entire metro area to the size of a small state.

This was hopeless, unless Lena knew where to go.

You know what you have to do. You know what you’ve always had to do.

Kara answered on the third ring.

“Hi.”

Her voice was tiny and small, and Lena felt like she was clutching some small fragile thing to her cheek.

“Hey,” she said, with all the softness she could muster with the top down. She pulled to a stop on the side of Ocean Avenue so she could soften it further. “I heard what happened.”

“I beat the monster.”

“I know,” said Lena. “You always do. Where are you, Kara?”

There was a beat of silence.

“I don’t know who out you up to this, but you don’t have to do it, Lena. I know how you feel about me now.”

No, you fucking don’t, Lena thought, before she could silence her own frantic mind. If you knew you wouldn’t have lied to me.

“Tell me where you are.”

“I’m where I belong,” Kara sighed, the hint of slurring in her words hinting that she’d been drinking.

Then she hung up.

A wave of anger welled in Lena’s chest, and she clenched her teeth, seizing the shift lever to throw the car in drive and head home; Kara and her sister could handle their own bullshit.

She didn’t drive home.

Lena arrived at the convention center in a frantic five minutes, parking crazily in a towing zone. Finding a way in took another few minutes, and soon the flat soles of her tennis shoes were squeaking as they echoed across the polished granite floors of the lobby.

She found Kara in the exhibit, surrounded by quiet, dark displays as she stood in front of a bannered exhibit proclaiming “RAO, THE SUN OF KRYPTON”.

Kara ignored Lena as she approached, tipping back a sloshing, mostly empty bottle of Jack Daniels to take a hearty gulp.

“Kara?” said Lena.

Kara swayed slightly on her feet. She’d gotten a raincoat somewhere and put it on over her suit, cape and all, and even from a distance she stank of whiskey. She was staring at the display in front of her, an expansive orrery surrounding a lit model of Rao. Lena had never seen her so haggard, even her lustrous hair limp sallow.

“Hi,” Kara said, taking another drink.

“What are you doing?”

“Chasing a red sunrise.”

Lena approached slowly, until they stood side by side.

She stole a quick glance. Kara had a black eye and she was swaying slightly, and Lena wasn’t sure if it was from the booze or the fight. She started to take another drink.

Grasping the bottle by the neck, Lena took it from her. Kara didn’t resist as Lena tipped back a long pull on the bottle herself. It offended her palate in every possible way but one, but it was a good way to numb herself.

“Alex send you?”

“No,” said Lena. “She just had to tell me. She knew I’d send myself.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s a lot more observant than you are.”

Kara studied her for a moment, then reached for the bottle back.

Lena looked at it. “How much of this have you had?”

“Not enough,” said Kara, taking another drink.”

“If you insist on destroying your liver, at least let me give you something that actually tastes good.”

“It all tastes like paint thinner,” said Kara.

Lena sighed. “Get in the car.”

Kara shrugged and followed Lena out, flopping extravagantly in the passenger’s seat. Lena drove in silence, using the excuse that the wind noise made it too hard to talk.

When they arrived at Lena’s apartment, she practically shoved Kara inside, and poured the rest of the swill down the drain.

“Hey,” Kara muttered.

“There’s still some of your clothes in the guest bedroom. Take that damned suit off and put on something else.”

Kara complied, trudging into the bedroom. She emerged a moment later, looking small and sad with her hands tucked up inside an oversized hoodie, wobbling giving Lena a glassy look.

As she sat down, Lena handed her a glass of wine and perched on the edge of the couch cushion beside her, gently pressing an ice pack to her eye. Kara leaned into it and let out a soft, unsteady sigh.

“Pain hurts,” she observed.

“It’ll do that.”

Then she went quiet, sinking into Lena’s couch with Lena’s ice pack pressed to her face. Lena stepped into the kitchen and pulled out her phone. Alex answered immediately.

“I have her.”

“Thank God. I’ll be over to get her in a few minutes.”

“No you won’t,” Lena sighed.

Alex didn’t answer her for a too-long pause.

“Yeah. Call me in the morning.”

“Will do.”

Kara had found the wine bottle when Lena came back, and was taking a drink form it. Lena sat down next to her and took it, drawing on it hard before passing it back.”

“What now?” said Kara.

“Is the ice still cold?”

“Yeah.”

Kara curled up next to Lena, bringing her legs up, her toes wiggling in empty air. Lena sighed and found her a blanket, spreading it over her too carefully.

As soon as Lena sat down, Kara spread the blanket over her, too, and Lena noticed that her absurd body heat hadn’t abated from the loss of her powers.

“You have tea on your TV,” Kara observed.

“Yeah,” said Lena.

It took her a few minutes to find something on television that wasn’t Supergirl or The Fox and the Hound.

(Fucking seriously?)

Nature documentaries were Kara’s kryptonite, to turn a phrase, and soon she was sleeping on Lena’s shoulder, the ice bag fallen into her lap. Lena stared down at the soft features of the surpassingly lovely little goddess snoozing against her and couldn’t help it anymore.

She started to weep softly, her shoulders hitching as she struggled to stop it, knowing the attempt was hopeless.

It got worse when Kara began to purr, a deep and soothing rumble in her chest that seemed to seep into Lena’s bones. After a moment she realized that Kara was crying too; she’d woken up.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “I’m so fucking sorry, Lena. I can’t… I can’t breathe I’m so sorry. I lost my red sunrise. I can’t lose you too. I’ll do anything. Please let me make it up to you I promise I will, please.”

Lena shifted to a more comfortable position, known this was it for the night, that something had shifted. No, shattered. She was tired of being angry, of being afraid, if thinking of could-have-beens and come-what-mays. Yes, Kara had lied. Lena had lied. They’d kept secrets and been stupid and and they’d hurt each other, but nothing in the world, no principles or closely held rules or petty anger would justify watching her suffer like this.

She was careful as she cupped Kara’s jaw, avoiding the injury, feeling a flash of rage at whoever had done this to her. (That his ass had been throughly kicked by an angry Kryptonian was irrelevant; her vengeance would not be forestalled.)

The kiss was quiet and gentle, at once too soft and quick, more request than declaration, and Kara swiftly answered with one so fierce and honest and hopeful that Lena didn’t care that Kara’s mouth tasted like whiskey and wine.

When it was over, Lena found herself whispering, “As you wish.”

[miley1442111]

Hi sorry to bother you but can you make a spencer reid x reader with the mute!reader and he helping her with everything.

Thank you so much sorry to bother you.

this is so cute! I did some research but I am nowhere near well-versed enough to know everything so please someone tell me if i've made a mistake !!!

mutism- s.reid

a/n: intended for fem reader, but as always imagine what you like:)))))))))

summary: how you and spencer met, the first time spencer heard you speak, and a look into your life together :)

pairing: spencer reid x mute! reader

warnings: none

You were mute. You knew sign language and could talk to specific people on very specific occasions. You’d had it since you were diagnosed at 4 years old and it truthfully wasn’t the end of the world, but it did suck to not have had a date at the age of 22. Not that you weren’t beautiful, not that people hadn’t tried, you just… didn’t speak. 

But, CalTech was amazing, you were a biology student and you loved it. You could just lock in, ignoring the world around you and spend time in the lab for hours on end. Though, you couldn’t exactly investigate the growth rate of organisms in a crowded college bar. 

“I’m getting another drink!” Your very drunk friend shouted over the voices in the bar. You nodded your head, staring down at your half-empty drink as you sighed. You wanted to be anywhere that wasn’t here, at this stupid bar. Your friend, Maria, was a party-animal. You two had been dorm mates for the last 3 years and she had started learning sign language from the first week. She’d brought you into her friend group, allowing you a group of about 7 girls who all had your back. 

Well, they usually had your back, just not while they were all drunk and hooking up with their partners in the bathrooms or in their dorms, which is what all of them were doing right now. 

A tall and lanky boy sat beside you on your left and your body went rigid, silently begging him to not try and talk to you. 

“Spencer, come on!” One of his rowdy friends shouted. Spencer. Spencer was very cute. He had long-enough hair, brown trousers with a tie and shirt on. He looked far too overdressed for a simple college bar and you smiled. 

He was more than cute, he was gorgeous. You were shocked you’d never seen him modelling.

“No, I’m tired,” he laughed at his friend. “Go dance without me!” His friend gave up, walking off to a group of equally lanky and nerdy boys, all attempting to dance. 

Another man sat on your right, the seat where Maria had sat and you were instantly filled with anxiety again. Maria was nowhere to be seen and there were two men beside you, either of them could easily start trying to talk to you and what would you do? Just write it down on a napkin? On your phone? 

You hadn’t had this problem in a very long time. 

“So, you come here often?” The guy on your right asked, a soft smile on his face. He seemed to be the typical frat boy, kind of asshole-y but nicer than others you’d met. You tried to ignore him, pulling out your phone and texting Maria, saying you were going home instead of staying out longer, but he persisted. “What’s your name?”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Spencer had been attempting to make conversation with you all year. He knew you were the smartest in your class, since he and your professor were friends and he often read over your papers. He thought you had the most beautiful mind, he didn’t even care what you looked like, he just wanted to know you. 

But, he had found out what you looked like from your photo online and he fell harder. You were gorgeous, smart, and interesting. He also knew you were mute. Back in your first year at college most people had just assumed that you were rude or too prideful to speak to certain people, and that you were getting special treatment from teachers by them letting you not present your projects. This meant your facilitators had to make an announcement to most of your classes, explaining why you didn’t speak. He saw your face one day as your professor explained to the class that you were mute, you looked so embarrassed and ashamed and he felt his heartbreak. He'd been embarrassed of his intelligence his whole life (but trust me, he knew that these were VERY different things) and he felt an uncertain connection to you. 

“She’s my girlfriend,” he tried to sound intimidating to the guy but he knew he wasn’t exactly a beefy 6 '2 frat boy.

The frat boy got the message. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You felt sick, Spencer was speaking for you and all of it could’ve gone to shit if that frat boy hadn’t gotten the hint. You quickly got up, looked at Spencer and signed ‘thank you’ and practically ran through the door, just wanting to get back to your dorm, 

“Umm, wait!” Spencer followed you out to the car park and you turned to face him, feeling hot under his gaze despite the cold, dark night around you both. “I’m S-Spencer, sorry if that was really weird but I wanted him to l-leave you alone, I-I know who you are a-and… yeah.”

He knew who you were? You looked at him confused. 

“Professor Monk! I help with his corrections sometimes, I’ve read your papers, they’re really good,” he smiled. “C-can I get your number or something?” Something like panic flashed over his features, clearly shocked at his own words. 

You took out your phone and wrote out “I seriously doubt I’d be much fun, I don’t talk,” you showed it to him, and he chuckled. 

“I know sign language,” He smiled and your heart swelled. You didn’t know it now, but on your wedding day, he would admit that it was a very big lie. 

You held out your hand for his phone and he handed it over, you punched in your number and that was the start of your beautiful love story. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Through your life together, Spencer was always there for you, there to calm you down, speak for you, be there for you, and to love you.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The first night he heard you speak was a year and half into your relationship, it was purely accidental on your part, genuinely comfortable enough to just speak and you did. 

“You’re so funny,” you quietly said between his and your own laughter. His own smile grew, while your face heated. 

“You spoke,” he observed, holding you from behind, his taller figure engulfing yours. “You have a nice voice.”

You whispered a meek “thank you” and he could’ve sworn that his heart grew three sizes. He didn’t want to push you, he just kissed you on the cheek and continued on with his cooking while he internally freaked out. Despite being together so long, you still found ways to fluster and surprise him. The majority of the time, he spent feeling like a schoolboy with how smitten he was with you. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

So, you knew Spencer would always have your back, always love you, and always care.

He promised you so on your wedding day.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, obx+)

[bellawoso]

love story

aitana bonmati x fem!reader

description: aitana falling for you despite you being quite nerdy when it comes to shakespeare and art. aitana is helplessly failing english lit, in order for you to tutor her she requests for you to come to her matches each weekend, you end up falling for her too.

(kinda unrealistic as i highly doubt aita would take english lit 😭) + ALSO DIEGO MAKES A RETURN!!!

at first the move to barcelona had been scary for you, the new language and culture were unknown territory for you, and you couldnt help but feel lonely with not many people to talk to you in english.

until at a party, you overestimated how much drink you could handle and ended up on the brink of passing out, only to be saved by a random spanish boy you had seen around campus and spoke english.

a new friendship stemmed that night, you and diego were inseparable, even though you owed him one two many times after he saved you from people cursing you out in spanish after you accidentally pissed them off.

that was exactly what had happened now.

you and diego also work at the same art museum, although he often complains about the boredom he experiences there, much to your annoyance. he still continued to work there, the pay is good and you are in your happy zone, excited to spend all of your free time surrounded by one of your favourite subjects.

except for times when you managed to irritate random spanish people. in your defence, the piece of work wasnt that good, and the artist wasnt well known, how were you to know that you were speaking to the artist claiming that there were better pieces that deserved a place in the museum.

the man had gone into a fast paced spanish rant, although you knew some spanish after some time of living in barcelona, you were no where near fluent enough to understand the heavily accented, rapid spanish that fell from his mouth.

diego was very quick to intervene and call security on the man who was now jabbing a finger in your direction, the only word you understood was “puta” after hearing the insult many times from diego to people that annoyed him.

seeing him escorted out, you were quick to flee to your favourite part of the museum, at the east wing of the top floor was a small library filled with copies of old literature, with historic renaissance paintings hanging on the walls.

not many people went in there, it was very well hidden from the public eye, and was out of the way of popular artist exhibitions. however, nothing was too hard to find for a certain brunette midfielder, who was bored out of her mind.

———

today was aitanas day off, when ona gathered her, jana, bruna, pina and patri for a “fun day out” a museum was the last thing she was expecting.

ona was actually enjoying looking around the museum, pina and patri were talking to a group of girls they found “hot”, jana and bruna were raiding the gift shop.

this left aitana bored out of her mind, so she went exploring and ended up on a corridoor that stretched to what looked like a library.

despite english literature being aitanas minor degree, she was actually not that fond of it, much to her parents dismay who had to hear constantly from aitana how she was failing it.

when she walked in, she physically jumped when she saw a girl sat on one of the seats reading some shakespeare play.

if there was one thing aitana despised the most, it was shakespeare, the prospect of learning the plays and writing about them made her want to gauge her eyes out.

she was ready to turn around and beg ona for them to go home, until a soft voice pulled aitana right back to the library.

“hello! can i help you?” upon hearing this, aitana quickly turned back around to match a face to the voice, and was met with you now looking up so she could see your face.

aitana didnt notice that she had zoned out while admiring you, normally she didnt feel this way for anyone. each time pina and patri tried to set her up on a date she was always quick to reject, as in her opinion she had to focus on football. however at this moment, she seemed happy enough to break the no relationships rule for you.

“sorry can i help you?” hearing you once again managed to break aitana from her daze, as she quickly tried to think of a topic that she could strike up a conversation with.

“uhhhh- you like shakespeare?” aitana asked, whilst internally cursing how her voice wobbled as she spoke to you.

“yeah i do! are you a fan of his works? what is your favourite play?”

honestly, aitana had no idea why she chose shakespeare, in fact, she despised the guy who she had to memorise a ton of plays for. however, seeing your entire face light up at the sound of his name could persuade her to talk about him all day.

what aitana hadnt vouched for was you quizzing her on him, i mean, she was failing english lit for gods sake. but if she could just act like she was an expert for long enough for you to be impressed enough to accept her request of a date with you, then it would give her enough time for some quick shakespeare revision before your date.

“i love shakespeare” aitana stated, the link tint of her cheeks only darkening as you smiled upon hearing this, “ i would say that romeo and juliet is my favourite!”

“a classic tradgedy, huh? you like romantic plays?” you asked with a smirk, and aitana tried to rack her brain to figure whether you were flirting with her or not, and made a mental note to somehow improve for the next time she spoke to you.

“yeah, im a massive tragedy fan! another tragedy i love is-“ silence filled the library as aitana desperately tried to think of another tragedy, and felt like hitting herself for not paying more attention in her lectures.

“uhhh- a midsummers night dream?” aitana cringed at how it came out as a question, and blushed fiercely when she heard you giggle.

“although some prospects of the play could be considered a tragedy, a midsummers night dream was actually intended to be a comedy!”, you stated, rambling off about some tragic elements of the play, and aitana never knew that shakespeare could be such a turn on, but maybe it was just the fact that a pretty girl was talking about it, not her old male professor.

after inviting aitana to come sit down with you, and diving into a conversation of plays, both of you hardly noticed how an hour had already passed, although the conversation had mainly been one sided, with you rambling about your favourite plays, aitana enjoyed your company.

that was until ona called aitana asking where she was as they were going, aitana was sad to leave, and noticed you frown a bit as she told you she had to go.

“thankyou for tolerating my rambling about shakespeare, i know you dont actually love it that much.” you said while smiling at the spaniard in front of you.

“huh- what do you mean? i love the guy” aitana argued.

“its fine honestly- i saw your confusion when i was talking about his plays” you laughed.

“okay fine, i might be failing english literature but i definitely learnt some new things while talking to you, so thankyou”

“any time” you responded just as diego ran into the library talking in rapid spanish which you know he only does when hes in a rush, you understood a part when he said “ended 10 minutes ago” which you could only guess he was talking about your shifts. you smiled apologetically at aitana and said goodbye before leaving with diego.

when aitana met up with everyone at the exit, she was bombarded with questions of where she was to which she responded “in the library”

pina was shocked at this answer “the library? you hate books! your failing english for gods sake! what were you doing there?”

“well- there was this girl-”

“a girl! there you have it! little aitana here has a crush! she must really love her if she spent an hour in a library with her!”

“shut up patri!” aitana scowled “ we were talking about shakespeare!”

“shakespeare?! do you feel ill tana, can you go to training tomorrow? ona i think she is ill” patri teased.

aitana only stormed off after shooting one last glare at the group before returning to the car.

the teasing didnt stop there though, as soon as the others got to the car, she was met with relentless bullying the whole way back to campus about how “whipped” she is.

but also she realised something on her was back, she had forgotten to ask for your name and she has also never given you her name, which put her in a grumpy mood for the rest of the night before deciding it was fate, and a sign that she should be focusing on football.

———

aitana however, was actually wrong that you didnt know who she was. it was part of the reason you knew she didnt actually like shakespeare. diego was a big fan of football and followed the schools girls football team who were quite popular amongst the school.

he dragged you to many of their matches whenever you had the time, and therefore you had seen the brunette midfielder quite a lot.

you werent surprised when diego dragged you to yet another one of their matches a few weeks later, you were both sat down when diego announced he was going to get a coffee, and with promises to get you a tea and some chocolate, he left.

while he was gone, both university teams started doing warmups, and you couldnt keep your eyes away from a certain brunette midfielder, who honestly looked too good today.

“careful, your drooling amiga! i didnt know footballers were your type”

“jesus diego! and theyre not, i was simply looking at number 14, i was talking to her a few weeks ago in the museum.”

“you were speaking to aitana! and you didnt think to call me?!”

the truth was, members of the football team were very popular, they were nice and would greet you if you said hello, but their main friends were in the football team, so you didnt really see them hanging around with other people. lots of students had slight crushes on certain members, much like yours on aitana.

you werent listening to diegos lecture though, as your eyes drifted to aitana again, the extra gym sessions she had been doing really paid off, and when she lifted up her training top to wipe the layer of sweat from her face, you wouldnt be surprised if you fainted there and then.

what you werent expecting were for her eyes to scan the crowd and land on you, seeing her point and wave at you with a smirk on her face made you glad you were sat, you knew if you were stood up your knees would have buckled under you immediately.

seeing you blush and send aitana a wave back was all of the confirmation diego needed to know that aitana just waved at you.

“did she just wave at you? y/n have you pulled aitana? how?! did you recite some shakespeare love quote or something?! do you like her? oh my god- you do! your blushing!” diego was spiralling, aitana was known for not dating or flirting, unlike many of her teammates who were known for flirting and dating a lot. so seeing her waving at you made diego unfocused for the entirety of the match, as he thought of how he was going to get you two together.

however, he didnt exactly need to, as you and him were seated quite close to the pitch, when the match ended both of you saw aitana call you over with a wave of her hand.

you werent sure how it was possible for her to look this good after a match, but as you approached the railing she was leant against you suddenly became very self aware of the blush that coated your cheeks.

“hey, your from the museum, right? i never actually got the chance to ask for your name.” aitana said, her eyes roaming appreciatively over your body.

“yeah, im y/n, you must be aitana, you played very well today, you have been revising some shakespeare?” you laughed as you saw the teasing frown that appeared on aitanas face, “shakespeare in my opinion writes very boring things!” aitana argued.

you put a hand over your heart and gasped in mock offence, “aitana youre hurting my heart, talking about the greatest play writer of all time!”

but before aitana could respond, pina and patri bounded over to her and slung an arm round her neck, they recognised you from the museum, and in their minds came to aitanas rescue to help her ask you out.

“hello! your y/n right? i think you were at janas dorm once doing art, correct me if i am mistaken” patri said, “yes i have been, its nice to meet you!” you replied as diego handed you yet another cup of tea.

“i hear you are very good at english literature? you know, aitana is in desperate need of a tutor!” pina stated while wiggling her eyebrows suggestively, making aitana smack her on her arm.

“ignore her! her mum dropped her on her head as a baby!” aitana joked making you laugh and reply “its fine! i dont mind tutoring you if you need it aita?”

upon hearing her nickname fall from your lips aitana couldnt help but smile bashfully and blush like a little girl with her first crush, much to her teammates amusement.

“uh- yes! yes- definately, i would love that, can i have your number? to schedule a time that is! or not- if you dont want to, or if you changed your mind! no pressure y/n- “

you smiled at aitanas almost incoherrent rambling, “aita, i want to tutor you, honestly. can i get your phone to put my number in?”

aitana quickly pushed her phone in to your hands before you could change your mind, and as soon as you typed in your number, sprinted off with a quick goodbye.

———

you and aitana scheduled your tutor sessions every tuesday and thursday, the days aitana didnt have training or matches. however, the study sessions werent going as planned, as aitana could not concentrate at all. you werent sure why, and obviously aitana would never dare admit that she was daydreaming about you, with you right in front of her.

you felt hopeless, you loved aitana, you really did, she spoke to you as well when she saw you around school, except that was it, you longed for so much more with the brunette, unknown to you that aitana felt the same way.

after a month of tutoring, aitana could still not pass an english literature test, she knew that you would confront her about it soon, you had dedicated a lot of time tutoring her after all.

“aitana i dont get it! i mean- you say you need a tutor but then you dont concentrate at all, you failed another test! do i bore you during these, what can i do for you to listen?” you said exasperatedly, aitana knew you had every right to be mad at her, to anyone else it looked like she wasnt trying at all.

“no of course your not boring me y/n, you would never!”

“tana, should i change the length of these sessions, are they too long, and making you tired? i understand if its too much?”

“no, no they are fine, i have one idea in mind though”, this was it, aitana planned on asking you something she had been mustering up the courage for a while to do ever since you had stopped accompanying diego to the matches, caught up in studying.

“uh- you could come to my matches each sunday? maybe in my jersey.” aitana asked sheepishly. you however, choked on your water as soon as you heard her request, i mean, was that not a couple thing to do?

“uh- sure aita, if that would make you concentrate on english literature more!” you paused as you quickly thought of an excuse to get out of the library to recollect your thoughts, “can we please cut this session a little short, i promised diego i would go for a coffee with him!”

“oh okay, bye y/n see you on sunday!”

after saying goodbye to aitana, you rushed to diegos room, telling him about aitanas request, although his reaction didnt match your panicked state, as he immediately started laughing.

“finallyyy amiga! i was wondering when one of you would make the first move!”

“diego your not helping! what do i do?!”

“you should probablyy… go to the match and wear the jersey?” diego said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, whilst rolling his eyes.

“everyone will see, its a thing couples do, everyone will think that we are together” you said, “you say it like its a bad thing y/n, if i were you, i wouldnt be mad if people thought i was with aitana bonmati” diego argued.

“whatever” you huffed also rolling your eyes at him “you will come to the match with me though, aitana texted me saying she got front row seats for us”

“obviously im going y/n, i guess now your girlfriend has got us good seats i owe the favour of being your drink refiller?”

“you were going to refill my drinks anyway, and shes not my girlfriend diego!”

“whatever you say”

———

it was match day, as promised you were wearing one of aitanas jersey which the midfielder had dropped off for you earlier this morning. you had already gotten quite a few dirty looks from people who you could only assume were aitanas “fangirls”. the dirty looks only got worse when during warm ups aitana came over to you, and leant over the railing, holding your jaw to move your head to the side so she could whisper something in your ear.

diego, who had gone to get you a tea when this interaction took place, only saw the two of you from far away, and from a distance, it honestly looked like aitana was kissing your neck.

“woah amiga what was that? you never told me you two had sorted your feelings out, was she kissing you?” diego exclaimed as soon as aitana was called back over to get ready for kickoff.

“what? we werent kissing! she was just telling me something!”

“sure y/n, sure”

the game had started, and a brunette midfielder on the pitch couldnt seem to keep their eyes off you. however, it wasnt aitana. a girl off of the rival team seemed to be flirting with you from on the pitch, as diego said.

it wasnt only the two of you that had noticed too, it was hard for aitana to not notice, especially when the girl scored and pointed at you in the stands.

this only fuelled aitana more to win, but jealousy once again overcame her when she saw the girl blow a kiss to you, so when the girl next had the ball, aitana quickly slid into her, completely taking her out and earning herself a yellow card in the process.

the short lecture that aitanas captain was giving her went in one ear and out of the other, as aitanas eyes had already drifted to you, both of you locked eye contact and you couldnt help but laugh and shake your head at the midfielder, who smiled at seeing your laughter.

in aitanas opinion, if she couldnt injure the girl anymore, she might as well embarrass her on the pitch. the rest of the match was filled with aitana nutmegging, and skilling the poor girl who flirted with you. the spaniard relished in the feeling of dribbling straight past the girl, and ended up scoring two goals, and after each one she pointed at you.

at the end of the match, she ran straight over to you, who was already stood up and leant against the railing.

“y/n i just wanted to thank you again for coming, you dont have to do this again next week, i know that football does bore you a bit.”

“no tana, i enjoyed it really, you played so well and im so proud of you!”

“you will come again next week?”

“of course i will, now you should go celebrate the win with the team.” you said, realising that most of the team were soaking up the glory of winning, and aitana was missing it, “also, would you want to go get a coffee with me next week, theres a new cafe that opened up near campus?”

“i would love to aita, message me the details?”

“i will tonight! bye y/n, and bye diego!” however a poke in your side from diego reminded you of exactly what he wanted you to do, and you knew you would be bullied relentlessly by him all night if you didnt, so you grabbed aitanas arm before she could run to her teammates, and pressed your lips to hers.

as you looped your arms round the midfielders neck, you felt her smile into the kiss, before pressing her tongue to your lips, eliciting a soft gasp from you which aitana silenced with her lips, you pulled away from the kiss when you began to feel lightheaded, and you werent sure if it was due to the lack of oxygen or that you were just kissing aitana.

“bye aitana” you said with a wave before pressing your lips on her cheek, as a more pg way of saying goodbye.

aitana ended up passing english literature.

———

[ncityprincess]

Forever Home 🏠

Smut | MDNI

WC: 2.7K+

Plot: Long-term couple Johnny and Y/N share a delicious dinner and reminisce about all the good times they’ve shared in their soon-to-be old apartment.

*This couple is from the same universe as Nighttime Routine, the Big three-oh, and the Dad Johnny series so feel free to read those too, but they’re not required reading 🙂‍↔️*

Mentions: dirty talk, oral fixation, breeding kink, strength kink, size kink (come on it’s Johnny)

“Woah!”

Your fiancé did a little happy dance as he tasted the chicken he’d been working on for the past 20 minutes. Tonight, you two were trying a new chicken thigh recipe, and judging by the tall man’s enthusiasm, it was a hit.

“It’s good huh,” You teased, glancing up from your salad prep.

“Here, come try.” Johnny speared a piece of chicken on his fork, blowing away the steam. You paused, eager for a taste test, and bounced over, always up for sampling his cooking.

You savored the perfectly seasoned bite. “Mmm…” you hummed, delighted. The chicken was juicy, and tender, with just the right kick of spice. “Oh my God, this Harissa seasoning? Definitely staying in the rotation.”

Johnny grinned, nodding in agreement as he turned off the stove and started plating the food. Meanwhile, you resumed tossing the salad, whisking together a quick homemade dressing.

Peaceful moments like these made you appreciate the relationship you and Johnny had cultivated. It was the mundane, casual moments that truly warmed your heart the most. Not needing to fill silence with fluff and noise—just enjoying the comfort of each other's presence.

“Red or white tonight, my love,” Johnny asked, interrupting your quiet thoughts.

“Mm, let’s do red tonight.”

After the table was set and you both had everything you needed, you finally sat down to dig in. The two of you engaged in some light conversation, gushing over how good the meal turned out, as well as what types of things you both got up to at work.

“I only had one client call today, so luckily I was finally able to finish cleaning out the hall closet. Thank God for remote work, one less thing we have to do this month.”

“Wooo, you rock babe thank you. That project took way longer than it needed to. How can two people rack up so much junk,” Johnny laughed before taking a bite of salad.

“Well, we had our suitcases, old college junk, your skateboard, my yoga mat, your endless supply of nerdy tech stuff, my totally not out of control shoe collection…We had our whole lives in that closet babe. That, and we’ve already lived in this building for six years. That’s a lot of time to collect a bunch of junk.”

“Well, I for one very much enjoyed accumulating all that junk with you, m’lady. And I can’t wait to collect even more junk with you in our new place.” Johnny punctuated his statement with a heaping bite of chicken.

You shook your head at his silliness. “Wow, how romantic honey. But I’m honestly so ready for our forever home. This market is so volatile,” you pouted. Johnny looked at you with warm eyes, wanting to kiss the pout right off your face…

You both had been house hunting for a lot longer than you had anticipated. Turns out, buying a house wasn’t as simple as they made it seem on HGTV. It wasn’t a straightforward choice between three gorgeous homes, it was sifting through piles of renovation nightmares and out-of-budget fantasies.

Each house was either too small, too outdated, didn’t have enough character, or had too many zeros attached to the price tag. Each viewing left you more disappointed than the last. Johnny, ever the optimist, always assured you that the right one would come along eventually. “What’s meant for us can’t skip us, baby.”

After dinner, you continued your normal routine of washing the dishes and putting the leftovers away. The faint smell of chicken and spices lightly lingered in the air. The calming energy of the kitchen filled you with a sense of peace.

“Oh, by the way, I picked up a little something from your favorite bakery on the way home. Check the fridge.” Johnny nodded toward the refrigerator before sitting back down. Even though your tummy was stuffed, your ears perked up at the thought of your favorite treat patiently waiting for you.

Johnny smiled fondly at the way you skipped toward the fridge and all but broke the door off its hinges to retrieve the dessert. You grabbed two spoons and plopped down onto Johnny’s empty lap. His strong hands moved to massage your hips and upper thighs while you opened the pink dessert box, eager to dig in.

But to your surprise and mild disappointment, it wasn't your delicious strawberry cheesecake, but instead, a silver key that you had never seen before. The key sparkled beautifully under the overhead light.

You stared at the box dumbfounded, turning to look at Johnny. His eyes held lighthearted mischief and he chuckled yet again, placing a soft kiss on top of your head.

“Do you know what this is?” He asked gently against your ear.

“…not my favorite strawberry cheesecake in the whole wide world?”

“Remember the place we looked at a few weeks back? The one we had our hearts set on, but another family placed a higher bid? Turns out their offer fell through. The house is ours, baby. We move in at the end of the month.”

The realization finally hit and you squealed, wrapping your arms around your lover’s neck. “You mean the one with the gorgeous sunroom and the little koi fish pond!?”

Johnny squeezed your hip. “Uh-huh, that’s the one. The one with just enough space to get started on that family we’ve always wanted. It all worked out perfectly baby.”

“Oh honey, I love you so much. Thank you! I can’t believe we’re gonna be homeowners!” You peppered a million smooches all over Johnny’s face, overcome with the joy of what the next chapter will bring.

“I love you. I’m so lucky to be able to experience this moment with you.”

You nuzzled yourself deeper into Johnny, suddenly feeling sentimental. “We’ve shared so many memories in this little apartment. It’s kind of bittersweet to be leaving”

“Yeah, we sure have…remember the time you flooded the bathroom. Maintenance was pisssssed,” Johnny teased.

You gasped and lightly pressed your pointer finger into his chest. “Well, do you remember the time you burned our Thanksgiving turkey?! We had to leave our windows open in the dead of winter to air out the smoke,” you teased right back.

“How could I forget, my mom never lets me live that one down.” You laughed and ran your hands through his silky strands absentmindedly.

“Remember when we got that terrible snowstorm that knocked the power out of the whole city? We were snowed in for days, and had to snuggle for warmth.”

“Goodness, I swore my fingers and toes were going to fall off,” you reminisced with a light laugh. “The electric bill was cheaper that month, but at what cost?”

You both chuckled at the memory, the glow of shared experience warming the space between you. The room fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft hum of the dishwasher.

Johnny’s gaze lingered on you, a quiet contentment settling over him. The longer he sat there, the more he became aware of how warm your body felt pressed against his. The memory of huddling for warmth now had a different meaning — not out of necessity, but out of comfort. He liked the way you instinctively nuzzled into him every so often, your soft curves fitting perfectly against his body.

His fingers traced idle patterns along your side, as though savoring the present moment. You felt the subtle shift in his energy, his touch growing more intentional, lingering.

“What kind of memories do you wanna make in the new house baby?”

Something about the way the tone of his voice hit your most sensitive parts lets you know that the energy of the moment was about to shift.

“Hm,” you pondered, letting the statement linger in the air.

Johnny wasted no time letting you know where his mind was at. “Because I think I wanna make some really dirty memories in our new bedroom. What do you think?” His hand slid up the front of your soft stomach, making you squirm.

“I guess we could make that happen. But who says we have to wait till we get to the new house?”

Johnny looked down at you pleasantly stunned, while your eyes held sensual mischief.

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be, huh Missy? You gonna be my bold girl tonight?”

You answered his question with a kiss on his pillowy lips, letting out a gentle moan when he pressed his tongue against yours. Johnny deepened the kiss and placed a strong hand on the back of your neck. You fought the urge to get on your knees right under the dinner table and get to work.

“Baby. Take me. To bed,” you breathed out in between kisses. Those were the magic words Johnny needed to hear.

“Say less.”

Johnny pushed the chair back and gathered you into his arms, making a beeline for the bedroom. You squealed as he tossed you back onto the bed, taking your breath away in the best way possible.

You gathered your bearings and flipped onto your hands and knees, crawling to where Johnny stood at the foot of the bed. You pawed at his sweatpants, silently gesturing him to pull them down and reveal himself to you. He smirked down at you and gladly fulfilled your request.

“You gonna suck me off real good baby? Huh?” You nodded and took his half-erect member into your hands. You began to stroke him slowly, closing your eyes in pleasure when he let out a guttural groan. Johnny gently rocked his hips against your hand a few times, throwing his head back in relief.

Your hand roamed along the length of his cock, and you admired how warm and muscular it felt against your hand. Your mouth watered at the thought of feeling the heaviness of him against your tongue.

You couldn’t wait any longer and bent forward to take Johnny into your mouth. “F-uck baby that’s it,” he stuttered out. His affirming words encouraged you to give him the best head you could muster at the moment.

You let your tongue swirl around his tip for a few more moments before taking a deep breath through your nose. You took his length deeper into your throat, the action making you gag and produce little messy slivers of saliva. Johnny bit down on his bottom lip and gently pet the top of your head as if to say, good girl.

It brought you so much pleasure to satisfy your man like this. He always poured so much love and attention into you, and this was one of your favorite ways to pour it back into him. Each of his grunts and groans filled you up with exhilarating pride.

You wrapped your fist around the bottom of his shaft while you let your mouth do the rest of the work, suctioning and brushing your lips against him. Your back was fully arched, and you swore you were getting more wet by the minute…

Johnny took one last look into your wide, lust-filled eyes that were silently begging for more praise. His hips stuttered insatiably, then he pulled out of your mouth completely. Entranced and reeling, you sat back onto your heels and pouted up at him. Already fucked out and needy.

“Don’t look at me like that. You were gonna make me blow, woman.”

“Yeah well that was kinda the point, buddy.” You wiped the residual saliva and salty precum from your lips breathlessly, proud of your literal handiwork.

“Calling me buddy while my dick is out is crazy.”

“Ok John, just fuck me already please, and thank you,” you whined, growing uncomfortable at the way your panties stuck to your dripping pussy.

Johnny grinned, stepping out of his sweatpants completely and tossing his shirt over his head. “That can be arranged.”

Johnny grabbed your ankle and yanked you closer to him, peeling your tiny pajama set and panties off. You lay underneath his looming figure, feeling submissive and completely at home all at the same time.

This was the man you were going to spend the rest of forever with.

“Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout, pretty girl?” Johnny slowly parted your thighs, bringing you back into the moment.

“How much I love doing life with you,” you answered sincerely.

Johnny’s heart swelled, and he pressed an affectionate kiss against the arch of your foot. He took his throbbing length in his hand and slid it against your slippery folds. You let out a soft sigh, bucking your hips greedily. Your body was more than ready to take him in.

He finally slipped into you, letting his jaw drop in sweet relief. “Agh, fuckin’ love you so much, babe. You don’t even know.”

“I do,” you quipped, wrapping your legs around his midsection. You arched your pelvis up against his, letting him get as deep inside you as possible.

“Do you though,” Johnny teased, building up a nice steady rhythm. He loved the way your needy hands traveled up the front of your body to grab onto your bouncing boobs.

“Mmm, I think I’ve got a pretty good idea,” you moaned with a twinkle in your eye, enjoying the way his tip kissed your walls. Johnny shoved your hot body down onto his dick with each harsh thrust.

You always loved how athletic and strong Johnny was. He never made a big deal about it, but his natural athleticism always came out in the bedroom. He was so sweet and gentle with you normally, but you loved being tossed into whatever position and going along for the ride.

Johnny gently caressed your cheek, admiring your gorgeous, flushed face and the way it displayed a look of pleasure. The small, but romantic gesture juxtaposed the way his hips crashed into yours.

Something indescribable washed over you as Johnny brushed his thumb against your soft lips. You were overcome with erotic feelings and eagerly took the thick digit into your mouth, closing your eyes and savoring the taste.

You held onto his wrist with both hands as you moaned around his thumb, letting your tongue swirl around it like you did with his cock earlier.

Johnny thought you looked picturesque like this. He didn’t know how he got blessed with someone as gorgeous as you, but he thanked every single higher power known to man.

He silently wished he could capture this beautiful moment with his film camera, but nothing could ever truly capture how stunning you were like his own two eyes. You looked up at him with a half-lidded gaze, the seductive look making him slightly falter inside of you.

“My pretty baby, always such a good girl. Isn’t that right?”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you moaned out in agreement. He made it so easy to be a good girl for him. He gave you everything you wanted and always spoke to you so gently…

“That’s the first thing I wanna do when we move to the new house you know? Wanna fuck you nice and deep. Just like this. Do you want that too?”

Your grip on his hand tightened as your jaw went slack, moaning out a whiny “yes.”

“Wouldn’t it be kind of crazy if I got you pregnant the first night we moved in? Fuck—“ Johnny groaned before taking a strong hold on your hips, picking up the pace to send you both over the edge.

Your breathy moans picked up in time with each harsh snap of Johnny’s hips. “Fuck baby I’m right there,” you moaned desperately, digging your heels into his toned back.

“What do you think will come first: the wedding or the baby? Guess we’ll find out won’t we?”

You were still very much on the pill, both of you agreeing to stay semi-safe until the wedding day. But the sexiness of the fantasy and the way Johnny was talking had you ready to go to the courthouse tomorrow morning.

Johnny slipped his hand in between your bodies to play with your clit, making you finally tip over the edge. You let out the prettiest sounds as you let go, and moments later you heard Johnny let out some deep sounds of his own.

Johnny pulled out and grunted as he tugged his dick a few more times, sprinkling milky droplets of cum onto your lower tummy. You both caught your breath and came back down to earth. The hot, steamy atmosphere of the room felt like warm satisfaction on your skin.

You looked down at the residual product of your love on your stomach and scooped some of the liquid onto your pointer finger and into your mouth. Johnny caught the dirty action and groaned, exhausted but still so turned on by you.

“Jeez, babe what’s with all this finger stuff today? You’re killing me.”

You giggled and shrugged, showing off the finger you just licked clean. “You deprived me of my strawberry cheesecake, I needed something sweet. What’s a girl to do?”

A look of remembrance flashed over Johnny’s face and he suddenly sprang out of bed, naked as the day he was born.

“What are you doing, weirdo,” you exclaimed and plopped back against the pillows. You heard faint movements coming from the kitchen, followed by quick footsteps coming back to the bedroom. Johnny emerged from the kitchen with one of your Tupperware containers and two spoons. He jumped in bed next to you and opened the container.

Your beautiful strawberry cheesecake was staring back at you in all of its deliciousness.

The end 💋

[obsessedwithceleste]

Theodore Nott Headcanons

Dedicated to this lil request here 🫶🏽

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

It’s no secret that Theodore Nott had a rough childhood

Between witnessing his mother’s death at a young age and having a particularly ruthless father, Theo learned to be quietly reserved early on

1000% Theo is an introvert

Despite being seemingly closed off, he’s extremely observant and good at reading others and picking up on things quickly

While he may not be the best at deciphering his own emotions, he’s able to sort through others’ easily

This makes it easy for him to be rather manipulative because he knows what makes other’s tick and how to go straight for the jugular

He may be distant and off putting in the beginning, but once you get close, he’s a clingy bastard because he doesn’t let many people get close, so once you make it there he’ll basically hold you captive forever

He’s also stupid smart

(Canonically he’s able to re-create an illegal time turner after they were all destroyed in the department of mysteries so//)

And this makes him a bit of an arrogant asshole

Looks down on people he thinks aren’t as smart as him

He definitely thinks that he knows best and can have a “my way or the highway” type mindset

Probably has some type of gifted kid™️ trauma and a crippling fear of failure

Anyway, he’s super intelligent and witty and has the potential to do really well in classes

But he has a nasty habit off skiving off with Mattheo Riddle

Who happens to be his best friend along with Lorenzo Berkshire

A lot of people think Theo is the “mother” of the group, or at least the one with the most impulse control

They’re wrong

Theo is the one that Mattheo goes to with his dumbass ideas and Theo’s response is generally something along the lines of-

“Absolutely not you tosser. If we’re going to do it, we’re going to do it right”

Queue Mattheo’s initial plan- only methodically planned out to cause maximal amounts of emotional trauma for the Hogwarts population

Theo and Mattheo are also a chaotic duo on the quidditch pitch

Theo is a chaser

Making the quidditch team in his third year is one of the only times his father showed a hint of satisfaction with the boy

Being on the Slytherin quidditch team, he’s often labeled a preppy jock

And Mattheo does help him break out of his shell more

But he’s a nerdy lil book worm at heart and likes to be holed up in the library most days

Theo also has quite the reputation of being a ladies man with rumors about his escapades swarming the student body

But really they’re just that- rumors

Lorenzo is more of the openly flirtatious pretty boy, and Mattheo certainly knows how to make his way around which is perhaps why people think Theo would be the same way

But he isn’t one to really form physical attachments- emotional or not

He prefers to fly under the radar

He may have had a fling or two, but isn’t one to kiss and tell

He has a hard time entering a real relationship

Mostly because when he first realizes he’s caught feelings, he’s convinced he’s actually just ill and stays in bed pretending to be sick

But once he comes to terms with things, he’s one determined wizard

Makes sure everyone knows that you’re off limits (possibly before you know yourself)

Definitely goes to Enzo for advice on how to woo you

With varying degrees of success

King of subtle PDA (just enough to mark his territory)

Confident and secure in his relationship, but also still jealous as hell

Will hex the living shit out of someone for breathing at you the wrong way

Finds it amusing when you get jealous though

But will shut it the fuck down as soon as he picks up on you being actually upset (probably embarrassing whoever it is in the process)

Not always the best at communicating his feeling cause he’s emotionally constipated af

But tries because he knows he doesn’t want a relationship like his parent’s

Okayyy I think that’s all for now, but I have a feeling these will grow and evolve with time sooo- ongoing (?) idk

[cruel-seduction]

Beneath the Bet: A Love Unspoken

(picture taken from pinterest)

Pairing - Sirius Black x Female Reader

Glimpse - “But if you hurt me,” she added, her tone light but laced with a warning, “I’ll kill you.”

Sirius laughed, the sound full of genuine warmth. “Fair enough, love. Fair enough.”

Summary - Sirius Black, the notorious heartthrob of Hogwarts, takes on a bet to win over Y/N, a sassy, nerdy Gryffindor who’s never fallen for his charms. What starts as a game quickly turns real when Sirius finds himself falling for her. But just as Y/N begins to trust him, a whispered secret about the bet shatters everything. Now, with her heart broken and Sirius desperate to make things right, the truth comes out... but is it already too late?

**

The Great Hall was buzzing with its usual energy, filled with students chatting, laughing, and eating, while the enchanted ceiling mimicked the perfect autumn sky above. Y/N sat among her friends at the Gryffindor table, a book resting in front of her as she half-listened to their conversation. Though her mind was occupied by her studies, she was always ready to chime in with a sarcastic remark or a witty quip. She was a social person, known for her loud, confident voice, and her tendency to speak her mind.

She was also a nerd—unashamedly so. Her love for books and academics hadn’t gone unnoticed over the years, but she never let it stop her from being outgoing or from enjoying life at Hogwarts. Most people knew her, not because she was trying to stand out, but because she was unapologetically herself.

From across the Hall, Sirius Black leaned casually against the back of his seat, his gray eyes focused on Y/N, who was engaged in some animated debate with her friends. It wasn’t the first time Sirius had noticed her—hell, she had been around since their first year—but there was something about her lately that kept catching his eye. Maybe it was her quick wit. Maybe it was her confidence. Or maybe, Sirius thought with a grin, it was the fact that she didn’t seem to care about his usual charm.

“Oi, Pads,” James interrupted, elbowing Sirius in the ribs. “You’re staring again.”

Sirius blinked and tore his gaze away from Y/N, trying to look nonchalant. “What? No, I wasn’t.”

James snickered, adjusting his glasses. “Sure you weren’t. I’ve seen you look at plenty of girls before, but you’ve got a thing for Y/N, don’t you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sirius shot back, though his grin was still in place. “She’s just... interesting.”

Remus, who had been quietly reading beside them, looked up. “Interesting how? Because she doesn’t fall for your usual tricks?”

Sirius scowled good-naturedly. “I don’t have ‘tricks,’ thank you very much.”

“Mate, you’ve been trying the same moves since second year,” James teased. “You flash a grin, call them ‘love,’ and they’re all over you.”

Sirius shrugged, unbothered. “It works, doesn’t it?”

But Y/N, as Sirius had learned, wasn’t so easily charmed. Over the past few weeks, he’d thrown a few flirtatious comments her way, testing the waters, only to be met with either polite indifference or a sharp, sarcastic response. And somehow, instead of being discouraged, it only made him want to try harder.

James, ever the instigator, suddenly leaned in with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You know what, Pads? I bet you can’t get Y/N to go out with you.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “A bet, huh?”

James nodded, his smirk widening. “By the end of the month. If you can convince her to go out with you, you can take my Firebolt for a spin.”

Sirius’s expression shifted to one of excitement. “Your Firebolt?”

James shrugged. “If you fail, though, you’ve got to write Snape a love letter and leave it on his desk.”

Remus winced, looking up from his book. “Merlin, that’s cruel.”

Sirius didn’t hesitate. “Deal.”

From that day forward, Sirius Black had made it his mission to get Y/N’s attention. At every opportunity, he was there—flashing her one of his trademark smiles, throwing in flirtatious comments, even going so far as to publicly kneel in the middle of the Great Hall and loudly proclaim his love for her. Each time, Y/N would roll her eyes, or simply laugh it off, much to the amusement of her friends and the rest of Gryffindor House.

“Alright, Black, what is it this time?” Y/N asked one day after Sirius had cornered her in the hallway between classes, grinning like a cat who had just caught a mouse.

“Nothing much,” he said casually, though his tone was anything but innocent. “Just thought I’d remind you how breathtaking you are.”

Y/N’s lips twitched, clearly amused. “And I thought I’d remind you that I’m not interested.”

Sirius placed a hand over his heart, feigning deep injury. “You wound me, love.”

“Oh, you’ll survive,” Y/N quipped, brushing past him.

For the next few weeks, Sirius’s advances continued, much to the amusement of their classmates. Though Y/N remained unimpressed—or at least, she acted like it—there was a part of her that couldn’t help but feel a little flattered by his attention. It wasn’t that she was immune to Sirius’s charms, but she knew his reputation all too well. He was a notorious flirt, never serious about anyone, always moving on to the next girl before anyone could get too close. And Y/N had no interest in becoming just another name on his list.

That, and there was something else. Something deeper that tugged at her when she saw him smiling at her or calling her “love” in that playful tone. It was confusing, and Y/N wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Her friends, of course, were loving every minute of it.

“You should just say yes,” one of her friends suggested one evening as they lounged in the common room. “It’s obvious he likes you.”

“He doesn’t like me,” Y/N said, shaking her head. “He’s just bored. He’s probably got a bet going with James or something.”

Her friend raised an eyebrow. “And what if he does? Doesn’t mean he can’t actually like you.”

Y/N sighed, leaning back against the couch. “I don’t know. He’s... Sirius. He’s a player. What if I say yes and he gets bored of me in a week?”

Her friend gave her a sympathetic smile. “I guess you won’t know unless you take the chance.”

Sirius, on the other hand, had started to realise something as the days passed. It had started as a bet, sure, but the more he pursued Y/N, the more he found himself genuinely interested in her. She wasn’t like the other girls he’d dated—not because she was different or special in some cliché way, but because she didn’t care about his reputation. She didn’t care that he was Sirius Black, the Marauder, the playboy. She saw through the façade, and that was something no one else had ever bothered to do.

One evening, after a particularly eventful day of Quidditch practice, Sirius found himself sitting in the common room, staring into the fire as he thought about Y/N. It was getting harder to ignore the nagging feeling in his chest every time she laughed or brushed him off with one of her sarcastic comments. He had never had to work this hard before, and the fact that he wasn’t giving up only confirmed what he had been trying to deny.

He liked her. For real.

And that realization terrified him.

It was just before the end of the month when Sirius finally made his move. He had waited for the perfect moment—when Y/N was alone, walking back to the common room after a late study session in the library.

“Y/N,” he called, jogging to catch up with her.

She glanced over her shoulder, clearly surprised. “Sirius? What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” he said, his usual playful tone replaced by something more serious.

Y/N stopped, turning to face him fully. “Alright, talk.”

Sirius took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I know I’ve been messing around a lot. And I know you think I’m just doing this for fun, but I’m not. I really like you, Y/N. And I want to prove it.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, taken aback by his sincerity. She had expected another playful remark, another attempt at flirting, but this... this was different.

“Sirius... I don’t know,” she began, crossing her arms over her chest. “You have a reputation.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “And I get why you’d be hesitant. But I’m serious about this. About you.”

Y/N hesitated, her mind racing. Part of her wanted to say yes—to take the chance and see if he was being truthful. But another part of her was still scared. Scared of being hurt, of being just another name on his list of conquests.

After what felt like an eternity, Y/N finally spoke. “Alright, Black. I’ll go out with you.”

Sirius’s face lit up, but Y/N held up a hand, stopping him.

“But if you hurt me,” she added, her tone light but laced with a warning, “I’ll kill you.”

Sirius laughed, the sound full of genuine warmth. “Fair enough, love. Fair enough.”

And with that, their relationship began.

For the first time in his life, Sirius found himself genuinely invested in a relationship. It was no longer just about winning the bet, or impressing James, or upholding the carefree persona he’d always carried. Being with Y/N was different. She wasn’t someone who swooned at his flirtatious comments, or who melted at his grins. She challenged him, teased him, made him think. And for some strange reason, that made him want to be better for her.

At first, their relationship was lighthearted. Y/N was cautious, but Sirius was persistent, showing her bits of his personality that no one else ever really saw. He showed her his vulnerable side, the side that wasn’t always laughing and carefree, and slowly, Y/N’s walls started to come down.

They spent late nights together in the common room, Y/N tutoring him in subjects he never bothered to care about before, or Sirius making her laugh with ridiculous impressions of their professors. They snuck out past curfew to go flying under the stars, Sirius teaching her how to perfect her broom skills. He took her to Hogsmeade, where they spent afternoons wandering the village, holding hands and talking about everything and nothing at the same time.

Y/N found herself falling for him, even though she had promised herself she wouldn’t. She had been wary at first, scared that he was just playing with her, that it was all part of some elaborate joke. But the more time she spent with him, the more she realized that Sirius wasn’t the player she had always thought he was. He cared about her. He made her feel special, in a way that no one else ever had.

And that scared her.

Weeks passed, and their relationship grew stronger. Sirius had long since forgotten about the bet—James hadn’t brought it up in a while, and Sirius didn’t care to remind him. What started as a challenge had turned into something real, something that made Sirius feel... different.

But it wasn’t long before cracks started to form.

Y/N was happy—happier than she had been in a long time—but there was always a lingering doubt in the back of her mind. She couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that this was too good to be true, that eventually, Sirius would get bored and move on. After all, he had done it with so many other girls before her. Why would she be any different?

And then came the whispers.

It started innocently enough—girls giggling in the corridors, casting glances at Y/N and Sirius whenever they passed. Y/N ignored it at first, brushing it off as jealousy or idle gossip. But then, one afternoon, she overheard something that made her blood run cold.

“So, have you heard about the bet?”

“What bet?”

“The one between Sirius and James. Apparently, Sirius is just trying to get Y/N to fall for him to win.”

Y/N froze, her heart pounding in her chest. She felt like the ground had just been pulled out from under her. A bet? Is that what this had all been about? Was everything Sirius had said, everything they had shared, just a game to him?

She felt sick. Her mind raced, replaying every conversation, every smile, every moment they had spent together. Had it all been a lie? Had he just been using her to win some stupid bet with his friends?

Y/N didn’t confront him. She didn’t say a word. Instead, she pulled away. Slowly, subtly, she started to distance herself from him. She stopped waiting for him after classes, stopped sitting next to him in the common room, stopped laughing at his jokes. Whenever he tried to talk to her, she found an excuse to leave. And Sirius, confused and hurt by her sudden coldness, didn’t know what he had done wrong.

He tried to ask her to figure out what had changed, but Y/N was guarded, her walls firmly back in place. She had let herself be vulnerable with him, and now she felt like a fool for doing so.

It had been a week since Y/N started ignoring him, and Sirius was at his wit's end. He didn’t understand what had happened. Everything had been going so well—he had been falling for her, truly falling—and now she wouldn’t even look at him.

One evening, after dinner, Sirius stormed into the Gryffindor common room, his frustration finally boiling over. He spotted Y/N sitting by the fire, her nose buried in a book, and without thinking, he marched over to her.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice laced with anger and confusion. “What the hell is going on?”

Y/N glanced up, her expression unreadable. “What do you mean?”

Sirius ran a hand through his hair, pacing in front of her. “You’ve been ignoring me for a week. You won’t talk to me, you won’t look at me, and I have no idea why.”

She closed her book, her eyes meeting his with a coldness that made his heart sink. “Why do you care, Sirius? You got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

Sirius frowned, his confusion deepening. “What are you talking about?”

Y/N stood up, crossing her arms over her chest. “The bet, Sirius. The one you made with James. You won. Congratulations.”

Sirius’s heart stopped. “What—no. Y/N, that’s not...”

“Don’t lie to me,” Y/N snapped, her voice shaking with anger and hurt. “I heard about it. This was all just a game to you, wasn’t it? You were just trying to win some stupid bet, and I was the idiot who fell for it.”

Sirius shook his head, his chest tight with panic. “Y/N, it wasn’t like that. It started as a bet, yeah, but—”

“But what?” Y/N interrupted, her voice rising. “You didn’t think I’d find out? You didn’t think it would hurt me?”

Sirius took a step forward, desperation in his eyes. “Y/N, please. I swear, it wasn’t about the bet anymore. I called it off. I didn’t care about it. I care about you.”

Y/N laughed bitterly, tears welling up in her eyes. “Yeah, right. You’re Sirius Black. You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

Her words cut deep, and Sirius flinched, but he didn’t back down. “That’s not true. Y/N, I care about you more than anyone. I’ve never felt like this before. You’ve got to believe me.”

But Y/N was shaking her head, tears streaming down her face now. “I can’t. I can’t trust you, Sirius. How do I know you’re not just playing me again?”

Sirius’s heart broke at the sight of her tears, and he reached out, gently cupping her face in his hands. “Because I’m not,” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. “I love you, Y/N. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, but I do. I love you.”

Y/N froze, her breath catching in her throat. She wanted to believe him—God, she wanted to—but the pain of the betrayal was too fresh, too raw.

Sirius’s hands fell away, and he took a step back, his expression crumbling. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with regret. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I never meant to hurt you. I just... I just wanted to be with you.”

Y/N wiped away her tears, her heart aching. She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know if she could forgive him. So she said nothing, and with one last heartbroken look, Sirius turned and walked away, leaving her standing there, her heart shattered.

For the next few days, Y/N felt like she was walking around in a fog. She couldn’t focus on her classes, couldn’t concentrate on her studies. All she could think about was Sirius—his words, his apology, the look of pain in his eyes when he had told her he loved her.

Part of her wanted to run after him, to tell him she forgave him, that she loved him too. But another part of her—the part that had been hurt, the part that had been lied to—couldn’t bring herself to do it.

It wasn’t until a few days later, when she overheard a conversation between James and Remus, that everything finally clicked into place.

“I can’t believe you didn’t say anything,” Remus was saying. “Sirius has been miserable.”

James sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know. I didn’t think she’d find out. And now he’s in pieces.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as she crept closer, straining to hear.

“Do you think she’ll ever forgive him?” Remus asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” James replied. “But I do know one thing—Sirius didn’t care about the bet. He hasn’t cared about it for weeks. All he cares about is her.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, and she felt a fresh wave of guilt wash over her. Maybe she had been wrong. Maybe Sirius had been telling the truth. Maybe, just maybe, he really did love her.

Without thinking, Y/N turned on her heel and ran. She didn’t know where Sirius was, but she had to find him. She had to tell him that she was sorry, that she believed him.

She found him sitting by the Black Lake, his head in his hands, staring out at the water. He looked so lost, so broken, that Y/N’s heart ached for him.

“Sirius,” she whispered, stepping closer.

He looked up, his eyes widening in surprise. “Y/N...”

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I should have believed you. I should have trusted you. I... I love you too.”

Sirius stared at her, his breath catching in his throat. “You... you do?”

Y/N nodded, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. “I do. I was scared, and I didn’t know if I could trust you, but... I love you, Sirius.”

In an instant, Sirius was on his feet, closing the distance between them. He cupped her face in his hands, his forehead resting against hers, and for the first time in days, he smiled.

“I love you too,” he whispered, his voice filled with relief.

[hanjisunglover]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐀𝐘𝐒

𐙚 pairing: volleyball player!han jisung x nerdy fem!reader

𐙚 genre: smut, high school au, strangers to ??, angst, fluff

𐙚 word count: 6.7k

𐙚 warnings: reader is a virgin, jisung it's kinda an asshole, he's also lowkey manipulative, dirty talks, dom! jisung, sub! reader, jisung it's kinda needy at the end, fingering (f!recieving), oral recieving ( m! and f! receiving ), eating cum, penetration, unprotect sex ( stay safe y'all), semi-public sex (people walking down the hall) spank kink ( f! receiving), breeding kink. Jisung's friends bullies reader, ji it's pretty jealous.

𐙚 summary: y/n has the best grade in history, jisung is just a volleyball player that can't keep himself out of challenges, so why not seducing the pretty y/n?

𐙚 members mentioned: minho, bang chan, hyunjin

[ jisung 02:34 am ] what are you asking me to?

[ minho 02:38 am ] you want the money? fuck her then :)

[ jisung 02:39 am ] why her? com'on you can think someone else

[ minho 02:40 am ] because her brother is in the team that we need to piss off for the next game, we need to win this time, that's why

You love History, you like the feeling of knowing things more than the others. You always been intelligent and smart, above the people. Never been out with a guy, never really trusted yourself enough for a relationship with anyone more than your own brother. Chan always been the extrovert in the family: you loves books, he loves volleyball and parties. You never complained to see him jumping around as the captain of the Lokeys and as setter.

That's how jisung started to ask you some help with history. You were so surprised when he stopped you from going out the class after the long and super interesting lesson from Mrs. Yang, that woman showed you the best way to love the Roman Empire. His cheeky smile and his strong cologne made your mind spin, but you tried to keep it cool to refuse. Until he talked about paying the extra sessions, and then.. how can you refuse it?

Extra money, talking about your favorite subject, that's the jackpot for a nerdy like you. You still don't trust him to make him come to your house to study, that's how you end up in the car of your big brother.

"Why you didn't refuse to help him?" Chan pinch his bridge of the nose, sigh lightly, he doesn't like the idea of her little sister with Jisung. He doesn't really know him, he doesn't know that much to let her sister go with a guy like him. For Chan you're still his baby sister, to protect from the world.

"it's gonna be fine, I'll keep my location on in case, don't worry okay? it's just study at the library." just study at the library, that's your thoughts. But you have the feeling of something else happens in your head, the drive to the school it's quiet enough to let you think.

Jisung, Han Jisung, the best setter that your school ever had before. He's good, he practice so hard everyday, he loves volleyball more than everything and you unfortunately knows. You know because Chan is the captain of the Lokeys, team that wins against them every single time. The difference now?

Jisung is in the team. And he talks with his members without even explain anything, he can read people in the best way possible, he can gets the opponents' moves even before they make them. It's just a genius in his game

Your brother drops you off and as you walk out he stops you holding your wrist a little, "hey, call me if he's being an ass, kay? I still can wait in the parking lot until you're done."

"hey, I got it." You smile softly at him as he waves at you from the window of the car as he speed right in front of you, just to make you laugh. You look at the doors of the school with a big breath.

The people around there are just some professors, some crazy kids that loves the book at the school and the sport clubs with the training hours, you never understood why put so much effort on your body. You hates sweating. And moving, in general it's not your favorite thing in the world, that would be diaries from the 40' about the WW1.

You try to find a quiet spot in the library, with your bag on your shoulder and the books against your chest, you need to find the perfect table to not have too many people around. Perfect to low talk and not being caught by the hateful librarian, who frankly - hates you. The reason? You may or not have held about ten books from the school on the industrial revolution.

I mean, who would blame you? they are good books, at least for you, and some other nerds. That you don't know, you don't talk to many people, you're voice it's so quiet that everytime people ask you to repeat yourself, at least three times.

As your turn the corner you notice a little table, not bigger than one seat each side, perfect. You fix your clothes as you sitting, putting the books and the conceptual maps that you like to make, your handwriting is delicate, neat and everything is divided down in color due to your visual memory. You are envied for your notes, which are going around to your classmates every time for classwork.

You waited for two hours there. Any reasonable person would have already picked up their things and gone. Not for you. You, you stayed there, studying anyway. You tried not to waste time and clear your thoughts as you finished your notes from the last lesson. When suddenly your phone rings.

[ Channie 18:21 ] are you guys almost done? :D

[ y/n 18:21 ] he never show- As you type the text Jisung gets inside the library, a grin in his face that makes every girl turn her head to look at him, he's wearing his classic uniform to training for volleyball. His movements are full of confidence as he looks around for you, as he stands up in front of the table he start to chuckles.

"Hey beautiful."

[ y/n 18:24 ] nope, but I text you when we are ♡

"my name is Y/n," muffled words gets out your mouth as you look over him, his tonic body gets right in front of you and your side of the table.

You bow a little as you press your lips together in an awkward smile, he chuckles as he cross his tonic arms against his chest. "I know, but names are not my favorite. I like nicknames, so.. you took this thing serious I see," he murmurs.

Jisung take his seat right next to you, his sweaty body makes you feel almost dizzy for how hot he looks, shiny tears of sweats driving down his neck, going inside his shirt. You're trying to not stare, but it's really hard when you have a good looking guy next to you. "So where you lack the most?" You says clearing your throat with a light cough, moving your hair behind your ear as you look at the chapters in the book in front of you. His eyes are on your lips are you talk.

"Right, of course." he nods once and gives you a charming smile as he looks down, trying to focus on the book. Jisung smirks as he watches you blush.

"Now, now… why should I be focused when I have you next to me, looking all cute and gorgeous?" He chuckles in amusement and leans closer toward you, his arms crossing over his chest. "Would be hard to concentrate on anything else, really." he winks at you and runs a hand through his hair.

You blush hardly to find him so close to your face, try to muffles some words but everything that comes out from your mouth a some gasps, he's being clearly flirty and that makes you flustered already, "book, study, please?"

He chuckles as he presses his index finger against your cheek, the sudden contact makes you confused but you manage to control it, "why don't we play a game mh? Simon says. one each."

You sigh, because you think it's the best way to make him focus. "okay, who's start?"

"Ladies first," he moves his hand over you almost brushing his fingers over your arm and you shiver at the light touch, Jisung can read your face and your thoughts as if your internal dialogue is speaking to him.

"Simon says open your book and take notes," your light order make him chuckles, but he listen and he grab his own book opening at the same page as you.

You breathe a sigh of relief as you begin to highlight important points about the book, his focus lasts for about half an hour before he places both hands on the table and looks at you intently with a smirk.

"Simon says, let me kiss you," you almost choke yourself with his words, you shake lightly your head, "no com'on.. please.. it's-it's enough."

Jisung smirks when you turns your head a bit, getting closer again and nudging your jaw with the tip of his thumb. "I think you don't know the game, sugar. You have to do whatever Simon says. Otherwise your turn is lost." Jisung chuckles softly and raises a brow again, his other hand drifting to your thigh, right under your skirt. He keeps teasing you and playing with your mind.

You squeeze your thighs together as she whine a little, looking at him lightly as she glance at his lips, sighing deeply, "Are we gonna back to study after?"

"Yes, promise." Jisung chuckles softly and raises a hand to your face, stroking your cheek softly and tilting your head back toward him. "Can I have your answer now, sweet thing? Or do you need me to make this harder for you?" The hand on your thigh squeezes your leg gently, making you squeal, and he leans in to breathe in your scent. Jisung's lips are just inches away from yours now, his breath hot on your skin. The tension is thick as he lean on you.

He kisses you softly, biting your bottom lip with determination, he's running too fast for you; it's your first kiss. Your eyes are closed as he keep kissing you with transportation. The moment breaks as you get breathless, your cheeks red like cherries and your eyes locked in his. "it was your first kiss, isn't it?"

As you nod he chuckle like a kid, This is gonna be easier than I thought, jisung is thinking about. You cover your face with your hands he moves his hand on your thigh again, "oh don't worry angel, I'll be gentle next time, but I can't promise anything."

Next time? oh you're totally losing it. He talks about a second kiss? you only saw those kinda of things in movies or tv series that you cry yourself on during the night when you feel that you need to 'suffer' about a relationship - that frankly, you never had. But that's not a problem for you, you never expected someone to loves you like the movies, or loves you like the songs that you always listen and fills your playlists.

Between the lessons in the days after, Jisung started to talk to you, to even say hi between the periods, also doing small chats between you two.

"hey y/n!" "can you help me with the study after?" "let me buy you some coffee," "we should hang out soon."

the kiss, the kiss, the kiss. That is the only thing that run through your mind, every time he is around. You can't stop think about it! it's all over your head, as soon as you close your eyes you can feel his lips against yours again, and just the thought makes your panties extremely wet. For God sake, you're lucky that he didn't touched you in the library, you're not sure that you are capable enough to shut your mouth. He's so attractive, walking around with his confidence that build just insecurities to the people in the hallways, so hard to get it for you. But hey, you're not in the same level as him.

He's a 10, you're a 6. Your brother would say a minus 8, but it's your older brother, so his vote doesn't count. Because he would say anything to make you genuinely happy, he loves you unconditionally it's impossible for him to not give you a right number. But still, you don't believe him.

During the middle school, your class listed the girls from the prettiest, to the ugliest. Just a funny game, but you hated it, all of the competition that shouldn't be in a bunch of 16 years old girls made you feel more and more uncomfortable. With your body, your extreme intelligence, made you ended up in one of the last positions.

You started to believe it, because if everyone agree, why it shouldn't be the truth? So you started to act like one, eating alone during lunch, your assignments with a group of people you decided to made your part by your own, your friends started to hang out with other people so; why force something that already is done.

Walking down the hall, by yourself and your eyes focus on the floor, Jisung is sneaking from behind, putting his arm around your shoulder, "hey beautiful."

"uh! hi, hi jisung," You mumble as you almost drop everything that you're holding in your arms, his eyes are traveling from your eyes to your lips, the tension building up inside you. "how are you doin? still too busy to hang out with me?"

He never asked you, "you never asked me."

Your sudden change of tone makes him giggle, holding you tightly against himself, your face get dangerously close to his, "so you would've say yes? Look at you y/n, all confident to talk back to me."

Cheeks getting red, makes him just more giggly and happy, because he knows that his friends are looking right at the end of the hall, where they can see how much he has you under his power. The deal with them is simple: fucks her, bring a proof and the proof can only be her underwear, dirty of his sperm.

In his head he already created the perfect occasion for that, how to make you beg for him, to gets on your knees just because of him. Just the thought of taking your virginity makes him hard, he clear his throat, "so wanted to ask you for, another lesson. maybe somewhere else, you know.. not in the library."

You feel your body slightly tensing up, feeling your legs almost numb for his words, "where? I'm just.. see my schedule and see if I can make it."

"my house. today, after my practice." Your eyes goes wide open, your surprise make him giggle as he nods,"yes angel, my house."

"I said I need to check my schedule, don't.. don't hope too much."

"Oh but I know you're coming princess, you can't say no to me."

You know jisung's house like one of the most beautiful - also richest - spot in the city, his father is a really important manager for one of the biggest volleyball team in town. His parties are always big and always loud, nothing in compare to what you do on Saturday.

But you also know, that he never invites girls over, that something that a lot of girls - specially the female volleyball team - complains all the time in front of you instead of listening to the history lessons. The talk, and talk and talk about him, and the only occasions when girls can get in his house.. is to hook up.

And that's how you ended up in his room, waiting for him to finish his shower, a book in front of your eyes but your head fill with thoughts.

"Simon says, tell me your dirtiest fantasy," he says clicking the pen in a almost rhythmic way, his eyes on your blushing. Because even if you're just a virgin, your head always fantasized about so many things. You guys are been studying for two hours now, he's overworked to let you talk for that long, when his only thought has been bending you over and take you right there. right now.

He try to push your to the limit until you spill it out, "okay, fine. fine I'll tell you," you mumble as he chuckle happily, his hand finish on your thigh, making you blush even more, "I think.. I think I like it rough. I mean, it's just an assumption, because I'm still a virgin."

"you know what I like?"

His question doesn't sounds like one, but you let him finish talk, his hand travels up and down from your knee to your inner thigh. Your skirt moves with his touch, "I like to make happy pretty girls like you."

Your cheeks get red as cherries just making him smirk like a cheeky kid that just had the answer that he wanted, "I think I.. could make you happy, angel, if you just.. let me." You can feel your heart bouncing in your chest when he starts to kiss your neck, his hand finds his way on your panties, feeling the wetness against the thin fabric.

"So fucking wet already."

You can't actually tell how you ended up on his bed, your thighs spread open and his face right between them. "jisung.. jisung please.."

Jisung chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against your sensitive flesh. He takes a moment to tease you, licking and kissing your inner thighs before finally placing a hot, open-mouthed kiss on your swollen pussy lips. His tongue darts out to taste you, his lips parting yours with one swift motion. He starts by licking you labia before sucking on your clit gently, groaning in approval at the taste of you. "So sweet.. just for me."

"Oh my fucking god," You says breathless, your back arching just at the gentle touch of his lips against your cunt, it's incredibly good to feel.

Chuckling again, Jisung complies. He slides his hands up to your hips, holding you in place as he slowly pushes his tongue into your tight entrance. He groans as he feels how wet you are, his eyes nearly rolling back in pleasure. "Fuck.. you taste amazing - want more, give me more."

He breath heavily against your skin as he continues to pleasure you. He adds a finger to her tight pussy, stretching her slowly while sucking on her clit. "You like that?”

Every single movement gives you a wave of pleasure that makes you moan so loud that his brother down the hall probably heard you. You moves your hips against his face, needy for more of his wet and warm licks, “o-oh fuck i love it! m-more!”

Jisung groans as he takes in you desperate cries. He pushes your boundaries further, adding another finger in your tight slit. His tongue works overtime on your sensitive spots, driving you wild. He has no intention of stopping until she begs for his cock. “imma gonna make you cum so hard.”

He can feel you, feel your excitement growing. He moves his fingers faster inside of her, hitting your g-spot, rubbing his fingers against it to let her reach the highest pleasure possible while still sucking on your clit. Your juices taste so sweet and he just wants more. “Fuck, your pussy is so wet, you're my good girl aren't you? so good for me.”

Jisung moves from your pussy just to change position, letting you sits on his face, your blush is heavy. He grunts as you rides his face, your pussy juices dripping down onto his tongue. He reaches up to grab your ass cheeks, spreading them apart as he continues to lap at your sensitive spots. “Fuck, you’re such a slut.”

You whine loudly as you try to keep it quiet, your hips are moving faster and faster trying to find the best friction possible. “i can’t wait to fuck you,” his muffled voice makes you clench around his fingers, he roll his eyes for pleasure.

“i want your cock in my mouth first.”

Jisung chuckles darkly, his eyes gleaming with lust. He moves from under you, sitting right in front of your sore but still shaky body. His fingers moves quick on his jeans to unzip them down and to let his hard length free. He grabs you by the hair and pulls your head towards his cock. "You're such a dirty girl," he murmurs before pushing inside your mouth roughly.

You moan deep throating his cock as you look at him, you has tears on the sides of your eyes for the sudden moves and your saliva dropping down your chin. You never had a sensation like this, so filled. so big.

Jisung fucks your mouth roughly, his hips slamming against your face. He reaches down and starts to finger your wet pussy, adding another layer of pleasure to your already overwhelmed senses. "You're going to cum for me, aren't you?"

You nods on his cock, closing your eyes to feel every inch of his dick deep down your throat, you clench lightly around his fingers but you starts to bounce in them desperately.

Jisung pulls out of your mouth and watches as you bounces on his fingers, eyes filled with lust. He slaps your ass hard, "You like this dirty stuff, don't you?” You find yourself squirming under his touch, almost purring like a cat for more attentions.

Feeling your walls clenching around his fingers, Jisung growls low in his throat. He pulls his cock out of your mouth roughly, leaving your gasping for air. "wanna get fucked angel?"

"yes jisung, please."

Jisung chuckles as he spreads your legs wide, positioning himself at your entrance. He teases you by rubbing his tip against her slick folds before pushing inside. "You're so wet for me, just for me right baby? so wet.. just for my cock."

You nods gasping for air, your head moves backward as you moan louder, "f-fuck it's too big," you whine loudly when you clench around him, trying to adjust as quick as possible, his hands goes on your waist to lift you and let you stay on his lap, your faces are so close are you stare in each other's eyes.

Jisung's hands move to grip your hips more firmly, guiding your movements on his cock. He can't get enough of the sight of you bouncing on him, your breasts jiggling with each thrust. He watches you with hooded eyes, drinking in the sight of you writhing on top of him. "you’re taking it so good for me.”

"jisung.. oh j-jisung I wanna cum.."

Jisung tightens his grip on your hips, pushing himself deeper inside you. He groans in pleasure as he feels your walls clenching around him. "Oh fuck, baby. That's it. Keep riding me like that."

“a-ah! ‘m so close!” You says breathing heavily, your eyes half closed as your legs’s muscles are burning for tiredness but you are too desperate for an orgasm to stop. Jisung's thrusts become more forceful, matching her desperation. His hands move to cup her chubby cheeks, slapping them gently in time with their rhythm.

"God you're... you're so big.."

Jisung groans softly, his hips jerking forward as he tries to thrust deeper into you. He pulls away from your neck and kiss you passionately - almost desperately, your tongues dueling. "You make me so fucking hard." He holds onto your throat, pulling you onto his mouth to kiss you again.

"More jisung.. please more.." Jisung smirks, his thrusts becoming even rougher as he grabs you legs and lifts them up, holding them against the wall of your abdomen. He starts to bite down on your neck, his hips bucking wildly. "I love hearing you beg."

Feeling your orgasm, Jisung picks up the pace even more, he reaches down to rub his cockhead against your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

Jisung grunts, his hips bucking against you once more. He pulls out of you slowly and watches as a trickle of semen drips down your thigh. He smirks, his eyes fixed on yours. "Is that what you wanted, my pretty?"

Your blush makes him chuckle, nodding lightly as your squeeze your thighs again, breathing heavily and your expression of totally fucked. Tilting your head aside, hearing someone walking down the hall and your panicking expression just makes him more and more amused.

Jisung chuckles softly again as he looks at you still laying there. Then he tries to pull himself together and stand back up, only to moan softly as his legs are a bit shaky after everything that happened. “I know, right? It felt so good to know that someone could be right outside the door and could hear me making you beg like the little slut you are."

You hits playfully his chest as he lay right next to you, your body is incredibly sore, his arms slowly moves around your waist, pulling you against his chest. "Oh shut up."

"make me," he whispers teasingly in your ear, making you chuckle as he massage your hips with his hands, his head rest on your shoulder as you close your eyes, feeling your body slowly resting against the mattress. "are you sore?"

"yeah, I'm not even sure how I am managing to talk."

"get used to it," Jisung murmurs as he buries his face on your shoulder, "I'll do this, again.. and again.. and again." closing his eyes as you feels his breath getting more steady. Your eyes gets even heavier as you feel the warmth of his body curling behind you.

Something is sure though, he never lets the girl that he fucks in his bed after, not even for sleep.

He had the perfect plan, exactly knows how and when to expose you and your no-more-virginity. He knows what he would say, even what he wanted to say.

So why now, that he's with his friends during the last practice of the week, he feels like a shit to talk about it? the balls are bouncing on the floor of the gym and his mind is just full of thoughts, mostly about you. That afternoon wasn't the only one, after that you guys started to be even closer, hanging out creating excuses with studying, procrastinating homework, a lot of love making sessions. His friends keep provoke him, asking for pictures of you after sex, every single sign of you two together. But he always respected you with this, because it's too much, he starts to like to feel you with him. Letting you sleep with him after, even cuddle and he's not a cuddler, it's just.. he feels and act different with you. It hurts, because he knows that soon or later he needs to talk with you about the challenge and the deal.

"So, did you fuck her?" His friend asked as he jumps for spiking the ball that he just sett in the perfect spot for him, Jisung groan nervously, he doesn't want to talk about it.

He doesn't want to because it felt too good to spill every single part of it, his focus are on the ball and how to serve on the other side of the court, getting ready for the match against y/n's brother. "oh, is someone too into her now?"

Another teammate tease him playfully, the spank on the ball gets louder, every time that it hits the ground jisung feels his blood burning in his veins, "shut up."

"did you fell for her?"

"love at first sight!"

"oh she probably do good blowjobs."

"should I try her now?"

"you took the deal too seriously now?"

Jisung serve the ball, hitting the floor with a loud sound that makes everyone stops whatever they are doing, because that wasn't just a serve. That was almost a punishment serve, "I said shut up, I did it for the deal, for the money. stop talking about it."

The thing that jisung didn't expect it was you, right on the corner of the gym, you were ready to talk to him and tell him how much you liked it, how much you loved slept in to his arms and waking up with him right beside you. How his kisses and his caresses made you feel alive, loved, desired, accepted. The way that the same morning you needed to sneak out from his house because he didn't wanted to let you talk with his father and his brother; "precaution." Yeah, precaution. Now you know, know you know why he didn't wanted it, why he didn't came to you this morning as he did for the last three months, he didn't smiled, he didn't waved. he didn't hugged you, he didn't try to steal a kiss from you. It was.. nothing. Like nothing happened.

The steps of your shoes echos in the hallway, jisung turn at the sound, he was sure that you heard, he knows it was you. His mind gets blurry and he let his volleyball, his team. Right now he doesn't care if he lose the practice, he doesn't care if he needs to train hard to beat your brother, he teased him enough.

You're crying, walking fast and almost not standing in your own feet, it was all a deal; all for money. You stop walking when you feel that your lungs are not functioning anymore, you feel your mind spinning. Your sobs are echoing in the hall as you sits against the cabinets, why he would do that?

Then the reality hits you hard, like a bullet in your chest.

"You."

You hiss when jisung enter in your sight, he stops his walking almost feel shaking, he knows that you're judging him now, "please let me explain-"

"you did it all because of a stupid deal! you did.. you did it to piss off my brother, because.. because you're gonna play against him next month. You.. You used me." The truth starts to pass in front of his eyes, because it's damn true.

"That was before," you can't even let him finish before stepping up from your spot, stomping a little to face him, your eyes are still tearing up and he can stop the urge to wipe your tears away. "before what? before what jisung?"

Your tone it's hard, and he feels like a kid that gets scolded, "before I started to like you." his hand try to reach your cheek but you spank it first. He's shocked by your gesture, it's not in you, is not something that you would do.

Not to him, not to anyone.

People starts to get out the classes, you are still in the middle of the hall as students stops to listen and more to watch the fight, "like me? you.. Han Jisung. like me, now this is another one of your tricks."

"y/n please calm down," his warm voice makes you almost trip in your thoughts, his hands finish on your shoulders and for a second you're back of the night before, when you went over at his place, when he was touching you so firmly for the first time.

"do not tell me to calm down! I don't wanna see you ever again." Jisung's heart almost breaks, people start to whispers and he see only you walking away from him, too distant. He doesn't like it, he doesn't want you distant anymore.

Jisung doesn't stop though, he knows that if he lets you walk out of his life now, you are never gonna be back to him. "angel, let *me* talk, let me explain."

"You had enough power over me."

You moved.

Moved school, changed your way to be, you decided to cut everything that could remind you him. Jisung was and always be someone that took something to you, something that you wanted to keep safe and always for someone special. He was special, that's for sure, but you knew something like this would happen. So when you changed school to go in your brother's high school, you're not surprised of the amount of popularity that you started to have all of a sudden, because Chan never hide your sibling ship. He never lied to anyone about you. You started to officially be the little sister that he keeps close and tight.

Jisung broke you but you decide to grab the pieces that he left and create a new shape of you, getting out more, making friends and even hang out with boys.

Like now, that you're hand by hand with Hwang Hyunjin, walking inside on a party. Never expected about celebrating after Chan's team won the volleyball game against your old school, but going to an after party? That's wasn't in your plan.

"Com'on don't be so tense," Hyunjin whispers in your ear as he walks behind you, one hand in yours and the other placed on your hip, guiding you though the crowd of people from both of the schools. You don't pay that much attention of the house, but it's okay. You're there to have fun, just that. "I'm not tense!"

"Y/n, babe, I can see your shoulders moving up every single time you talk, don't close yourself I'll be with you the whole time."

"all the time?" you murmurs trying to search for a confirm, your eyes lands on his and his smile makes you feel less anxious. You don't want anyone see you like this, specially from Jisung's team, you're freezing scared just to think about them. To see his eyes again on you. "Let me get you a drink."

"She doesn't drink." His voice reach you fast, but the grab on your wrist it's tight enough to make you turn to his direction, seeing his mad face toward your best friend.

"Are you sure?" Hyunjin bark back, almost ready to pick up a fight with him just to defend you, your eyes run from one guy to the other, stepping back and clearing your throat enough to make both of them turn in your direction. "I don't need someone to talk for me, and I don't need someone to tell me what to do, I'm fine like this." They both back off from each other, walking in different directions.

You follow your friend, and as soon as you guys step inside the kitchen he burst into laugh, his hand over his mouth, "Oh my god! he was so mad!"

"you guys won today right?" You scoff chuckling and getting yourself a sip of water from the fridge, his eyes on you as he nods, your eyes travel down his chest lightly seeing the little open of his shirt. Some buttons are undone and that makes your cheeks grow red, "where are you staring angel?"

You take a longer sip that you expect as you shrug your shoulders, moving down the dress on your thighs with a shy behavior, it's clear that you're not usual to wear dresses, they are not exactly your type of dress code - in any way. The nickname that he gives to you makes a run of chills down your spine, sighing lightly, "nothing.. your.. your shirt. it's unbuttoned." He nods as he glance down his own black shirt, he chuckle lightly, "why don't you do it for me? I'm too lazy."

You roll your eyes as you leave the glass of water in the already full sink of glasses and plates, walking close to him enough for do this favor to him, "come closer, I don't bite." The tension between you two is building up quicker than you expect but his hands that travel from your waist to your hips, pushes you against his chest, your eyes are on his and you're that close to feel his breath against your face. His eyes are slowly closing, leaning for a kiss that you're to exactly refusing.

His eyes were cold on you. "y/n, with me." His voice kills the mood of the room, making you jump lightly backward with your cheeks red like cherries, "man, she can choose." his grip on your waist get tighter, you know he's not gonna let you go, but your instinct it's running away from both of them. Your eyes are on Jisung, his presence it's charming as usual.

"Not with you holding her that tight, let her go, she needs to talk to me." Hyunjin let you go with a grunt, he's not happy about it but you walk quietly toward jisung, his body shift and he turn towards the stairs. You follow him silently as your hand it's intertwine with yours, his touch it's still delicate with you. He lead the way to a specific room and then you recognize everything, every single second of it. His house.

You're back in Jisung's house.

"sorry I, I don't have that much time I'm with my brother and his friends so-"

"why did you left?" His voice it's not hard on you, it's almost hurt, if this topic it's hurting you more than you could expect, his head is down and you can totally smell the alcohol that leave his body, making you step forward to see if he needs some help with anything, anything. "needed to."

Jisung chuckle under breath, turning and facing you, he's close to tears as he moves one hand over his cheek bushing lightly his fingers over his chubby skin, "needed to? y/n, I feel.. I feel like breaking down every second that you're not near me, I cannot breath because you left. I wanted to run, run after you. Maybe chasing you is not the best idea but I.. I wanted you to stay. Please can.. can I touch you?"

His voice is a whisper the whole time, making your legs shakes, almost melting for his sweet talks - but you're too hurt for that. "You broke me, you took something from me, don't be the victim here." Your voice it's steady but inside you your heart is shaking as much as his hands are.

"I wanna touch you wherever he touched you just to prove you that I'm better," Jisung steps closer, his hands grabs gently your waist and his touch it's 100% better than Hyunjin's, you cannot lie. You're melting under his fingertips, he's massaging your hips so lightly that makes your breath die in your throat. "Jisung we can't."

He mumble something, but his mind it's too blurry for elaborate, he lean on your shoulder as he's eyes slowly close, he takes a deep breath of your sent. "if you.. just let me.. need you so badly baby."

Jisung's lips trace his face long the nape of your neck, his hands slowly moves on your ass grabbing your cheeks in a gentle squeeze, your hands goes between his hair as you start to breath heavily, "ji we are your party."

"Simon says, let me take the dress off." His whispers makes you shivers long your spine, biting lightly your bottom lip as you let his hands grab the hem of the dress, lifting it up easily in one smooth movement - he saw you naked before but his eyes on you always make you blush like a kid. "Simon says take off your pants."

Jisung's eyes light up when he see that you are okay with that, and his hands gets busy unzipping his pants and moving down enough to let your hard length free, "com'here angel."

His hands grabs the back of your thighs, lifting you up from the floor and pushing you against the wall, you kiss him with pure passion and needs, his cockhead rubbing against the fabric of your panties.

"please fuck me Jisung," you mumble as his hand reach your panties, pulling them aside enough for him to penetrate you without a warning. Your breath catch your throat as you moan in silent, covering your mouth and laying your back against the wall, his hands grabs your thighs tightly as he moan deeply with his face buries against your neck, "fuck, so tight, thank you.. thank you baby.."

You moan shakily and his thrusts gets even more desperate, pounding in you roughly and fast, he groans and starts to pound into you, his hips slapping against yours. He holds onto you legs tightly, not wanting to lose contact with this feeling. His mouth finds yours again in a fierce kiss, his tongue invading you mouth as he takes what he wants. His pace quickens, his thrusts harder and deeper. Jisung's eyes are full of lust and desire for you.

"I love you."

𐙚 tag list: @lyramundana

[ghostedgrim]

She's all that is about the popular guy being dared to date the "nerdy girl" by his so called friend, he takes the dare but ends up falling for her. She finds out and they have a fight and break up. He wins her back in the end. Take it anyway you want! I do want Eric to be jealous as hell after they break up when other guys start taking an interest in reader!!

She's All That pt.1

Pt2. Request page. Masterlist

Warnings ⚠️: Getting dared to pretend to date someone, implied violence, jealousy,

"Eric, with all so respect, you're a Dauntless leader, yet you've been single since day one." The music in the bar is so loud that for a moment Eric almost didn't hear him.

"Personally James, I don't see how that's relevant. I have enough hookups to satisfy me plenty, I don't need some girl or whatever. Relationships I just a bothersome hassle."

"I bet you don't have a single romantic bone in your body."

"That's what you think, James," the bartender hands Eric a plate of food and leaves her number on the receipt. "Now if I were an unromantic man, that woman wouldn't have given me her number just now."

"Okay whatever, we both know you're good at getting men and women into your bed, but can you handle a full on relationship?"

"Yes, I just prefer not to, I don't need it" Eric shrugs.

James smirks and holds up his wallet. "Prove it then, date y/n then, the ex Erudite girl from your iniation class. You don't have to love her back, just make her love you. Do it and I'll pay for your next tattoo."

"Fine, how long do I have?"

"I'll give you about a month."

"Then we have deal James."

Is drinking by the chasm stupid? Yes. Do I care? Absolutely not, not when I've been on a week long trip to Amity to handle Dauntless soldiers who forgot their mission and decided to play with the Amity girls. My job is to train and direct Dauntless soldiers, yet most days I find myself spanking ass because they don't know how to behave.

"God I should've stayed in Erudite." I groan. Obviously it isn't true, the people there were cruel, liars, manipulators, vain, but I must admit I missed all the reading and research I'd done throughout my time there.

"Saying stuff like that would get you killed," I damn near jump out of my skin at the sound of the deep rumbling voice behind me. I turn around to see Eric standing right behind me. He wraps an arm around my waist to stable me, and guide me away from the chasm as I sway. "Long day?"

"More like a long week," my hard scowl meets his cold grey eyes, "What do you want Eric?"

He looks at me with a prideful expression, "I wish to take you out on a date. Don't worry about work tomorrow I'm assigning you a day off."

I scoff, taking another sip of my drink. "Me? Hookup with you? Not interested."

Eric falters for a moment, a small tick in his jaw, before returning to that prideful arrogance. "Good, I'm not interested in a hookup. Meet me tomorrow at 8pm by the train, I'd like to get to know you, nerdy and all."

Before I could even argue he walks away, that entitled ass really thinks I'll just go where he tells me because he said it's a date. I wonder if he uses that method with every girl he hooks up with. Either way I'm not going.

"I'm not going." I remind myself for the uptinth time today. I'm laying on my stomach atop a skyscraper, sniper rifle in hand. Every shooting range in Dauntless is underground except for the rifle range. Every target is at least a mile away, and every night they're moved to a new spot, hidden somewhere on the streets below, or hidden in a new room within the buildings around me. Sometimes, the targets are put on conveyors so they move around, and sometimes some are hidden so well you can only see a tiny sliver. To handle a gun that can shoot from miles away takes practice, and extreme smarts. Constantly I must calculate how the wind may effect my bullet, how far before gravity pulls it down, the most effective place to hit a target, arm to disarm, leg to stop them from running, chest or head to kill.

Only 7 people here in Dauntless have been trained and can handle a rifle and I'm one of those seven. It's one of the few jobs I can use to challenge myself. Kinda fascinating how using a gun takes so much math and knowledge in physics. None the less, I still train at least twice a week like the others.

I'm not fucking going! BANG!! My gun jerke violently, the bullet flies through the air landing perfectly onto the head of a far away target.

I look at my watch, "6:15." I'm not fucking going.

I readjust. BANG!!

I wonder what Eric could possibly have in mind for our date. Wait, why the fuck should I even care? I'm not even going.

It would be rude to stand him up though, and maybe he does actually like me, maybe he's finally going to be in a relationship and he actually chose me. I scoff, nah that's fucking stupid, as if Eric would think to pick me our of all the women already obsessed with him. I'm sure he'll live if stand him up.

BANG!! I miss by a whole 5 feet. "Fucker."

BANG!! I miss again...

It's 7:58, I'm standing by the train tracks wearing my nicest black dress, combat boots, and my favorite gun and dagger holstered to my thigh beneath the skirt of my dress. I even did my makeup. Fuck me, why the Hell did I fall for this crap?

I watch the train approach. "Where the Hell is Eric? Is this a prank?" I fail to hear the frantic footsteps from behind me. I barely have time to process anything before there's an arm around my waist and I'm getting dragged into a train car.

"Sorry I'm late, had some last second paperwork to handle. Thank God I made it in time to catch the train. You okay?" Eric is wearing his typical black cargo pants, combat boots, his black shirt is tight fitting and pared with a black jacket, his hair is in it's signature style and everything. Why the Hell am I about to swoon?

"I'm uh, yeah I'm fine." I tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear as I regain my footing. "For a moment I was scared you stood me up."

Eric scoffs, "Stand up a beautiful girl like you? I'd rather punch a brick wall." He sits down on the threshold of the door, letting his legs dangle out of the traincar as we race through the city. "Come sit," he pats his thigh.

If he's dissapointed I didn't sit on his lap he doesn't show it as I sit across from him. Unlike him I keep my legs inside the train car. "So uh..." I click my tounge, "why did you ask me out in a date, and why did you do it without the intent of hooking up? Last time I checked you never had time for a girlfriend."

"You've never been asked out before-"

"Oh so you're asking me out as a joke? Or pity? Because I'm not staying if that's the case." Eric appears to panic for a moment and quickly grips my shoulder as I try to stand.

"I wasn't finished," he states defensively, Eric's eyes stare deep into mine, their color cold as a winter storm, yet my cheeks warm and my heart stutters. I should probably check that with a doctor. "You and I came to Dauntless and went through iniation at the same time, if I recall correctly you ranked 10th place out of 35 initiates. Now you're not only training and directing Dauntless soldiers, but you're also apart of the only seven people here in Dauntless capable of handling a sniper rifle. I think I have every reason to be curious about you, because the fact that nobody has asked you out is baffling, especially considering how stunning and powerful you are."

Never have I expected a man like Eric to say such words. Stunning? Powerful? I know I'm strong, no idea where he gets the idea I have good looks, but honestly, I feel like I'm the hottest girl in Dauntless after hearing those words. Eric's hand rests atop mine, warm, strong, calloused from rigorous training, his eyes seem to trace my face, and suddenly I'm 16 and freshly transferred to Dauntless again. Eric was terrifying, but hot back then, he still is now just more tame.

I soon realize I've been gaping like a damn fish for minutes now and Eric's small chuckle breaks me from my trance. "I take it nobody has told you that before," he brings a hand to my cheek, his expression soft, "let me be the one to change that, to show and tell you just how amazing you are."

I used to imagine how his lips would taste. t

Then I turned 17 and pushed it from my mind because I was convinced Eric would never love me. He would always be too busy chasing tail to even notice me. But now his eyes are on my lips, his tounge even darts out for a moment to lick his bottom lip. He then looks back at my eyes, he leans in the hand on my cheek pulling me closer. "You smell like strawberries." Our lips are almost touching, his warm breath fanning across my jaw, he smells like gunpowder, cedarwood, and whiskey. I can barely hear anything over my pounding heart. I close my eyes, leaning forward to close the distance between us.

"Shit!" I open my eyes as Eric frantically pulls himself away from the door and the traincar is encased in darkness for several seconds until we leave the small tunnel. "Fuck," Eric laughs, "nearly lost my damn leg." I can't help but to laugh with him.

"That would certainly be quite the traumatic first date." We settle down again the wall both looking out the open door across from us. "How about we just keep all our limbs inside the train for now?" Eric sighs, and we both relax taking in the sight and sounds of the dark clouds rolling in and the distance thunder. The train rolls through the miles of green, flat land between the city and Amity. You can still see the bright lights of the Erudite buildings. It's peaceful, and I can't help but just enjoy the moment rather than talk.

"I once lit my hand on fire." Eric says it so casually as if he were talking about the damn weather.

"You what! Please do tell." I smile like a little kid excited for candy. Eric smiles back and dives into the story of how in chemistry he accidentally covered his hand in lighter fluid, then instead of washing it off he thought it faster to just burn it off. Fortunately the fire lit and burnt out too quick to cause any permanent damage.

It's pouring by the time the train reaches the Dauntless sector. Eric jumps off, then I jump right after. I barely have time to finish standing before he's wrapping his jacket around me. "I would hate for you to catch a cold. Now let me walk you home."

I'm starting to think this is a dream.

Asking her out was one thing, I never meant to get attached. We've been dating for almost a month now. Every time I see her my heart stops, and all I can do is admire her like some dumb schoolboy with a crush. Never in my life did I think I could actually fall in love, and never did I think I would stay up all night imagining what it would be like to kiss a girl, let alone replaying the sound of her laughter in my mind over and over. She's strong, smart as Hell, arguably smarter than me, and gorgeous, so fucking gorgeous I could drown in her arms. Honestly if she suffocated me I'd probably thank the damn woman.

"I'm fucked, I'm so utterly fucked." I spend maybe another hour in bed with nothing but my boxers on. I'm already running late, but fuck it, it won't kill Max if I'm late for work just once.

I'm quick to change clothes and rushed out of my home to search for y/n. I find her in the training room running a small squad through some drills. Without a single care I kiss her cheek, "Good morning, my dagger. Sorry for interrupting, but I just needed a small taste of you to get through my day." Her cheeks are dusted in red, and fuck she's just so damn cute it stabs my heart, and then her expression snaps back to stone and she shoos me away.

I catch James in the small squad of men, he's smiling and my heart drops as I remember our bet. I take my time walking up to my office. "How the Hell am I going to escape this?"

Today was exhausting, and I received far to many lewd comments about my relationship with Eric than I'd like. But now I can finally go visit Eric at the bar. For a guy known to be heartless and terrifying he's an amazing boyfriend.

Many people, especially Four, had warned me that Eric was likely dating me as a joke, but I highly doubt he'd continue fake dating me for a whole month as a joke. It's definitely not a joke. Yeah he can be mean, really mean, and cruel, especially to initiates, and yes he's heartless to seemingly everyone here in Dauntless but he has exceptions for certain people... I'm important to him, he's not dating me as a joke, sure he's capable of being that cruel but... he isn't doing that... right?

I try to shake the uneasy thoughts from my head, their just stupid fears, that's all. I pull on Eric's jacket and quickly make my way down to the bar.

I've been sitting alone at this table for nearly 20 minutes, and I can feel the eyes on me. My stomach is a storm of unease, and my doubt is ever growing. This isn't the first time Eric has been late to a date. When we first started dating, he had been cocky, full of himself, half the time it sounded like he was trying to talk me into bed. Despite our first date, it had taken me a while to finally, truly open up to him, to trust him, and believe he wouldn't hurt me. Yet here I am, sitting alone at a table a week later.

It's been a fucking hour, and I swear I can hear the whispers, feel the eyes. The waitress looks at me with contempt, as if she's won something and I lost at whatever she was winning it. My unease eventually turns to frustration and soon I'm walking through the dimly lit halls in search of Eric.

"Fuck me man, and here I thought you were incapable of a relationship." James, without a damn doubt that's his voice.

"Well I'm full of surprises." Eric? That's definitely him. Why the Hell is he with James instead of me, and why are they talking about relationships?

I stalk closer to where I'd heard them speaking, James is running his mouth about a girl's ass making it easy for me to find the two men, and watch them while remaining unseen.

"Have you both kissed, better yet fucked?" James asks and it makes my stomach turn sour. Kissing is fine, but asking about my sex life is not. Not that I have one, yet.

Eric huffs, "no we haven't had sex, and unless you count kissing on the cheek, then we haven't kissed yet."

"Ah, so in that case it isn't love." James has a concerningly victorious look.

"Just because we haven't kissed doesn't mean she isn't in love with me. She's never kissed a guy before, let alone have sex." Eric sounds somewhat annoyed.

"Well damn, a virgin, and unkisssed, I think I may need a taste myself. It's been awhile since I've tried a girl like that. Though-"

"James," Eric warns, his voice deep and posture tense. I wish I could see Eric's face, but all I can see is his back.

"Fine, fine, so you claim she's in love with you. Now I can argue that, but I saw the way that girl looked at you when you visited her last week. She looked at you the way a girl looks at a puppy." James shrugs, and then his eyes lock with mine and he smiles. "It seems I've lost our bet Eric. You can be romantic, and you are capable of making any girl, even ugly miss grumpy, genuinely fall for you. I can't wait to watch her face and see her cry when you tell her you're whole relationship has been fake."

"James-"

"Then aging you should definitely keep dating her. Think about it, maybe she'll stop being so closed off and grumpy, better yet, she'll stop being so strict on my squad. Perhaps you can make her give me a few promotions."

"Playing with her emotions to make her date me and fall in love was-"

I don't think, I just run. I don't stop running, not until my legs give out and I find myself sitting in a train car. That asshole! I trusted him, I loved him, and yet that fucker was using me for his own sick gain! My comm link keeps ringing, and in my frustration I stupidly throw it out of the train.

I'm crying so hard I can barely breathe, my chest hurts like Hell, and my vision is so blurry from tears that I can barely see shit. It was fake, it was all fake. Everything he said was fake! I was nothing to him! Absolutely nothing!

I curl up, and I hate myself for doing it, but I pull his jacket tighter around me. "Gods how can I be so fucking stupid... they warned me, so many fucking times and I ignored them like an idiot."

The sun is rising by the time I get off the train. It's freezing cold, snow covers the street and snowflakes fall from the sky. I glance at the cameras as I walk back to the compound. No doubt Four is watching me through them, or is already at my apartment with a whole essay of a lecture awaiting me. I don't even know if I have the energy to keep walking. So I just lean against a brick wall inside an alley.

I don't know how much time has passed, I'm shivering uncontrollably but I just can't seem to move.

"Y/n." His voice is deep, soft, and full of warmth and I find myself crying all over again.

"Four, I... you were right I-" He interrupts me with a tight hug and kisses my forehead.

"Later, let's just get you home and warm." Four bundles me up in a spare jacket and scarf he brought before picking me up and carrying me home. The exhaustion hits me hard and I unwillingly let myself drift asleep.

I'm bundled in thick warm blankets when I wake up, two warm hands hold one of mine. I finally open my eyes. I'm in my bedroom, Four is leaning against the wall near my door, his knuckles scabbed, and splattered with blood. Confused I look to my left to see who the Hell is holding my hand. To my suprise it's Eric. His gaze is locked on our hands, eyes are rimmed in red, bruises decorate his jaw, right eye, and possibly other places, even his nose looks broken.

"Why the fuck are you here?" Eric's head snaps up and he looks at me in such a way that I'm convinced he actually does love me.

"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, what happened- no, what I did was wrong. You didn't deserve any of that." A tear slips down his cheek and I roll my eyes at his pathetic attempt of gaining my pity. "Yes, James and I made a bet with him betting I couldn't make you fall in love with me. It was wrong, and it was cruel for me to manipulate you like that-"

"Get out." I snap.

"Hear him out, trust me," Four interrupts. "We both know Eric isn't the guy to let himself get beat up, especially without throwing at least one punch back." It dons on me that Four beat the shit out of Eric, but that's not what suprises me, it's the fact that Four is utterly unscathed. Eric actually let Four beat him up after what he did to me.

"I- at first it was fun, but then I started to develop feelings and holy shit I fell. I fell hard and fast and I didn't know what to do." Eric's voice breaks and he looks away from me. "You were like a goddam dagger, burrowed deep into my heart and seared into my brain. I thought, maybe to could just let myself win the bet instead of calling it off, you'd never have to know and we'd get to keep dating. You don't have to forgive me, but please know ever I've told you, it was the truth and I do love you. I love you so much it hurts."

"A part of me wants to believe you, Eric. However, the other part of me knows you're nothing more than a lying manipulative snake. I don't want to ever see you again, don't talk to me, don't even look at me."

Defeated Eric finally rids himself from my room.

"What happened to James?" I ask Four.

Four smiles, "Eric broke his jaw."

I sigh, deep in thought, "Did Eric actually let you hit him."

"Pretty much. I found him outside frantically looking for you, I punched first before asking questions. I had already seen all I needed to through the cameras. He didn't fight back once, just stood there and took my beating. I yelled st him for quite a bit before dragging his ass here then returning to the security cameras and waiting for you to step off the train."

"Four?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you. And if I ever act that stupid again, slap the shit out of me."

[the-californicationist]

There’s always a sexy little literature element in your books. I’d salivatteee over price as a grumpy librarian in some small town. Ughh with some small glasses and flannel. He’s so obsessed with the nerdy little frequenter who hides away in some section in the back to read. Imagine him peeking thru the books to catch a glimpse and sees her putting on a private little show in the some hidden away section. Little does he know she wants her grumpy librarian to watch 🦭. I know you’d make this so sexy and delicious, you deviant woman 🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️

i love you so much @ofdivinity01 <3 i hope this quick fic hits those points for you <3 <3

The Archives

John Price has retired, and he has tried out a number of different jobs to keep his mind occupied. One of his favorite jobs so far has been working in the archives of a library, especially since there's a pretty little regular that has been haunting his thoughts.

TW: female genitalia, overt sex, pwp, seriously its plotless, 3rd person POV

AO3 Link

Working as a library archivist was not how John Price had pictured his retirement beginning. To be fair, he didn’t need the money. Retiring before the age of forty with a comfortable (substantial) bank account to reflect a job well done was already an achievement. So, tackling another high-stress, high-profile career seemed doable yet unnecessary. He’d stuck around the house for a while, pottering about with some renovations or garden projects, but it wasn’t enough. He was antsy. It was only when his old friend, Steve Kosser, the director of a top-level historical documents archive, called him and asked for some extra security coverage that he’d realized having a gun on his belt felt familiar in a way that he wasn’t sure he liked. But, he loved the library. 

John had always loved books. His house was full of them. He had stacks on each and every surface. The classics, some Shakespeare, a bit of poetry, some nonfiction… he would read anything. There was even a bodice-ripper or two tucked away unseen, but he wasn’t ashamed. Reading kept him sharp. It taught him about people, about their nature, about possibilities, about hope in places where there was none. 

His work had quickly transitioned from security to desk work, and from desk work to archival data entry. Now, he was a procurement specialist, reaching out across the world to find texts and documents that his clients needed. Being close to the university meant that he had some repeat customers, but there were few who caught his eye like her. 

She was his shadow-cloaked phantom, haunting him from the back corner. Her wardrobe was black on black on black, never daring to show him more than a hand or a wrist, or a bit of her neck other than her face. But, he lived for that face. Round, full cheeks, and a downturned smile when he greeted her each evening that she decided to come in to work. He dreamt of that smile almost as much as her plump, thick ass, and heavy, ample breasts; all hidden beneath her modest clothing. Part of him warred against his lust, chastising him for ogling her when she was just here to work on her graduate research, but the other part of him was… harder to convince. 

But, tonight, in his almost empty archive section, he was given a true gift. She came in from the downpour outside, and he almost didn’t recognize her. He saw her tumble into the door, shaking her umbrella, frustrated and wet, but he’d needed to do a double-take. This was not his modest little raven, hiding behind her feathers. No, she was a bird of paradise tonight. 

Her feet were lined with strappy black heels, high and platformed, shining in patent leather, wet from the puddles outside. Her legs were bare, and as he raked his eye upwards, he lingered on her round calves, her muscular thighs, wide and smooth, all leading him up under a high, pleated skirt, dark green plaid, sitting high on her waist, doing little to hide that juicy rump. She had on a button-down shirt, starched and white, but he could see her black bra underneath, the rain making the fabric of her top transparent. Her hair was up in some sort of style, pulled away from her face and her neck, curling and gleaming from the droplets. 

She was panting from the cold, and from rushing inside, and that didn’t help his cause. He’d been battling a succession of throbbing hard-ons ever since he’d first spotted her, and that was weeks ago. At home, he’d retreat to his bedroom, rod in hand, working himself into an orgasmic froth, trying his best to picture literally anyone but her. But, she would flash into his mind, her smile, those eyes, that skin… and he’d be lost. 

When he saw a request come in from her library account, it was just as bad if not worse. His primal body would celebrate, happy that she needed his help, and that he could provide for her, and he’d be in a tumultuous, heart-pumping, cock-stretching predicament yet again. He’d cloistered himself away, deep in the darkness of the stacks, fisting himself in rushed, punishing strokes, coming in his open palm, stopping himself from ruining the historical treasures he was meant to be protecting, hanging his head in love-drunk shame. 

But now, in some sort of twisted, scholarly fantasy, here she was. His curvy little grad student, dripping wet and coming straight up to his desk. 

“Hiya, John,” she whispered, her voice somehow cutting through the blood that pounded through his ears. 

“Hey there, love. It’s cats and dogs out there, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she looked down at herself, trying to squeeze the water from her top, stretching it even thinner across her visible bra line, the black lace now fully visible to him, its floral pattern burning itself into his mind like fire on a page, licking black soot and tormenting him deep in his belly.

“Do you think you could help me?” She looked up at him with those doe eyes, pleading.

His body responded before he did, plumping himself back to life, feeling how the body of his prick pressed itself down the leg of his jeans. Yes, sweetheart, we’ll fuckin’ help you, won’t we, mate?

John shook it off, nodding his head, 

“Sure, what’s the problem?”

She pulled some copies out of her bag,

“A friend sent these over, but I don’t think they match the microfiche film that you have here. I hate to ask you this, but could you help me do a cross-check? I really just need someone to listen while I read from the fiche film.”

“You bet.”

John followed her like a loyal mutt over to the dark microfiche machine, his tail surely wagging if he had one, stealing glance after fiery glance at that delectable body as she walked, those heels clacking against the terrazzo floors. 

She found the machine she wanted and perched herself on the tiny stool. He sat beside her, eyes glued to the page, afraid of himself if he dared look anywhere else. The way the machines were set up meant that she would have her eyes stuck in the viewfinders, like she was scoping out the horizon on a submarine, while the soft golden glow from the machine would light up her unbuttoned cleavage, making her body that much more visible as he stared at her from his periphery. 

“Okay,” she positioned her eyes in the machine’s goggle-like viewer, unable to see anything around her but the film she was flipping through, “We’re on page seventy-four, right?”

John looked down at his packet, 

“Yep, seventy-four.”

“Okay, oh—!” She twisted herself on the stool, trying to get more comfortable, but her ass was too much for the tiny seat to handle. He reached out on instinct, catching her on her flank, gripping her none too lightly, saving her from falling. 

“Gotcha,” he laughed. 

She peeked out of the viewfinder for a moment, smiling, 

“Shit, I’m sorry. Mmm,” she cooed, “Your hand is so warm. Didn’t realize how cold I was.”

“Tha’s alright, love. We’ll getcha warmed back up.”

She gave him an encouraging look as she turned back to the viewfinder, and John felt like he had earned her approval to keep his hand planted right where it was. 

As she read from the film, he followed along, not really needing to report any corrections, but his palm was itching to travel. He had a hold on her hip, part of his hand riding the hem of her skirt, feeling the chill of her flesh, pebbling from the damp cold. Then, he began to pet the spot, rubbing it to create some warmth, generate some heat with his friction, and every brush from his palm meant that the wool of her skirt would scrunch up, revealing more and more of her plump butt as he did so. Eventually, he was under her skirt, realizing that the skirt was all there was. No panties, no hose, no nothing. 

“Ah, uh…” He made his excuses, “Sorry, love. Got a little carried away keepin’ you from freezin’ in here.”

He removed his hand for a moment, and then, the impossible: she grabbed it and placed it back where it was, peeking at him from the fiche machine, 

“Top of page seventy-nine, according to Marchante, the lost letters from Smith to Callant, prior to the war of 1617…” 

Game on. 

Price followed along dutifully, confirming each page with her, but now, spurred on by her teasing consent, his hand wandered unbridled. His fingers squeezed her body like the flesh of a ripe peach, soft and supple, giving way under his ferocious strength. Deeper and deeper, he snaked his way down the curve of her cheek, hunting for the parts of her that wouldn’t be taken by the cold. Her little, dripping furnace; that’s what he wanted. 

When he found it, her breath hitched. His ring and pinky fingers dropped far enough down to find her hanging right off of the stool, her holes uncovered, open to the air, unguarded and vulnerable to his searching hands. The slick, lava-hot heat that he discovered there as he sank between her folds warmed him from the inside, turning his erection into a huge fucking problem, painful and hungry for her sticky, sweet treat. When her words stuttered, he pumped his fingers deeper inside of her, steady in and steady out, up and down, the quiet milking noises muffled by her skirt. 

“Tch. C’mon, love, don’t stop readin’,” he purred in her ear, daring to plant a soft kiss in the hollow of her neck, pulling back to watch the goosebumps pebble across her skin not from the chill, but from him. 

“...in the, uh…” she was breathing heavy.

“In the coming months…” he prompted, teasing her with his hand, curling his fingertips as he delved deeper, pulling out some of her wetness to paint her lips, feeling her muscles loosen up for him, readying her for something more than his thick digits. 

“...in the coming months, the two armies… they… um, they…”

“C’mon, sweetheart. Tha’s a good girl. Keep going.”

She tried her best, and he almost felt bad for her, but not that bad. Because when he added another finger, sinking his middle alongside his ring, letting his pointer finger lazily tease its way up the slick surface of her folds, reaching for her clit, her reading stopped entirely. 

“Mm, fuck!” She hissed under her breath, “John… I can’t…”

“I know, baby. I know. But, this is your bloody fault, innit?” John whispered, his voice gravelly and rolling beneath his breath, “You came in here, you wanted this, didn’t you?”

“No…” She whined, her mouth hanging open, her lips shining with a little bit of her own drool. 

“Don’t lie to me,” he warned darkly, “You wanted to see if I would take your fuckin’ bait.”

Another finger, three of them, twisting and curling, bending and rubbing against her tight walls, and that was enough for her confession.

“Yes. Yes, I… yes, fuck…”

“And you wore this just for me, didn’t you?”

“...yes.”

“My good girl,” John praised her, tossing the packet down on the desk and using his free hand to widen the neckline of her shirt.

He pulled at the fabric until he broke a button, forcing her breasts through the opening, shoving his hand into her bra to fondle her nipples and squeeze her full tits. Then, he made a true effort to tuck her clothes under them, letting her breasts sit on top of her bra cups, hanging freely in the soft glow of the reading machine. Now, with her nipples on full display, he could bend down to kiss them, to nip at them softly, suckling at her skin as he fingered her, eliciting nothing but desperate, quiet mewls from her open mouth. 

“John, please…”

She was barely perched on the stool anymore, her ass shifting and trembling, trying to present itself to him, her body wordlessly begging for more and more of his touch. 

“Please, what? Want me to pull a different document?” He chuckled, removing himself entirely, making as if to stand and leave her there a half-naked, dripping mess. 

“No!” She gasped, grabbing him by his shirt, yanking him back, shying away from his cruel laughter. 

He returned to her, using his fingers to explore her swollen pussy and, now, to lightly rim his way around the tight ring of her asshole. His once-gentle suckles against her puffy nipples turned into rough, bruising kisses, making her squirm from pleasure and pain, crying out for him. 

“Greedy thing,” he panted, feeling her flutter around his hand, “You wanna come on me? Right here? In the middle of my fuckin’ library?”

She nodded, her eyes now fixated on the way he was playing with her tits, stealing sweet kisses from her mouth when she would cry out too loudly. 

“Teasin’ me for weeks,” he admitted, pulling his hand from beneath her skirt, suckling on his fingers to taste her, sticking them in her mouth so she could join him, watching her pupils dilate as her own heady fluids touched her tongue. 

“So pretty…” John kissed her, and then it was his turn to gasp. 

She had let her hands wander to his lap, rubbing the outline of his cock through his jeans, teasing the head when she finally found it, encouraging him to buck against her touch. 

He started to fuck her with his hand; long, deep strokes, no longer caring about the lewd noises he was making as his knuckles churned within her, soaked and pumping in an unravelling rhythm. 

To hide her screams, he pressed his mouth against hers, stuffing her pretty cheeks full of his tongue, feeling her suck against it for comfort as she fell apart. 

Then, she was wet beyond belief, dripping all over his palm, creamy and hot, giving him a reward for every cruel thrust of his hand. She was gripping onto his cock’s shaft for dear life, holding it like a lifeline, and her tight grip was enough to drag him right along the edge with her. 

By the time he pulled away from her, she was a shuddering, trembling mess. Her legs were shaking, barely able to keep her balance on the tiny stool, her tits red and purple from his assault. 

“C’mere, sweetheart. Let’s go back to my office, yeah? Get you all cleaned up.”

She nodded, not even bothering to cover herself as he helped her stand, walking in front of him as he led her through the back door to the restricted area, her eyes hooded and exhausted from her ordeal, so sweet and trusting. 

“Thanks for your help, John,” she sighed, smiling up at him with that same grin that had haunted his dreams, “I wish there was some way that I could repay you. Is there anything I can do?”

Now that they were in his office, he sat her on his desk, unbuttoning the last remaining buttons of her blouse, peeling her bra away from her shoulders, unzipping the side of her skirt, grinning down at her wet sex, licking his lips like the wolf that he was,

“Oh, baby, there are so many things you could do for me. But, let’s start with you spreading your legs, hm?”

“Like this?” She did as he asked, watching him slide her skirt off of her body, letting it ruffle to the floor, leaving her in nothing but her heels. Slowly, she pulled her knees apart, showing off for him, knowing that as much as he was the wolf, she was more than just prey. 

“Holy shite,” John murmured under his breath, watching as she bloomed for him, a pink petal in the darkness of his own shadow. 

He knelt before her, eager to put his mouth against her softness, lapping his tongue against her like he was starving. Her thick thighs felt good in his hands, and he pried her open with them, pulling her legs even wider than she had dared. 

He dragged his tongue along every fold and dripping line of delicate skin, finding the swollen body of her clit nestled beneath its hood, shining for him like a pretty pink gem. He pressed his fingers back inside of her, not granting her any mercy, starting with three, stretching his way back in. 

John’s hand fucked her as he drank from her, reaping what he sowed, over and over, in and out, rubbing her to her peak and dragging her over the edge. 

She was gleaming down his beard by the time he’d had his fill. His tongue coated in her slick, swallowing her down his throat, enjoying the lingering taste of her in his mouth. 

His poor darling was hoarse from her keening, sweating, trembling below him, a drenched mess on his desktop. He chuckled, petting her skin with his callused hands, 

“Had enough?”

Her eyes were full of worry and anticipation as she looked up at him, wanting to say yes, but shaking her head no. 

He teased her, unzipping his fly, letting his cock roll out onto her belly, thrusting it forward until he was flush with her hips, showing her just how deep he would reach. Her eyes widened with shock as she reached down to touch him, feeling him dripping with precome far above her navel. 

John tapped himself against her, heavy and stiff, 

“Change your mind?”

“Um…” Her voice was small, but she still looked up at him expectantly, so he rubbed his head through her folds as a final warning. 

“Ungh! Mmf– John…” She moaned his name, rocking her hips against his long shaft, her knees shaking every time his head buried itself in her folds. 

He slapped his cockhead against her clit as if knocking for entry, making her gasp, 

“I’m not hearing a no, love.”

She covered her mouth with her hands, trying to stop herself from screaming as she felt him notch his head into the cradle of her pussy, pressing forward just enough to stretch her with the body of his cock, watching as her eyes began to fill up with tears, overwhelmed by his size. 

By the time he was halfway into her warm core, her eyes had rolled behind her fluttering lashes, her breath stuck in her throat, her lips parted, showing him her lolling tongue. 

“Tha’s it, sweetheart. Let me take care of you, yeah?” John grunted, shoving himself the rest of the way through her clenched muscles, listening to the sounds of her wetness as her body tried to make room for his immense girth. 

As John began to thrust into her, she squeezed herself against him, fighting off another orgasm, each of them coming closer and closer together as she became almost overstimulated by him. He held his fist over her lower belly, leaning forward to put his weight down into his knuckles, making her feel every inch of him. 

The pressure from his hand turned her into a gooey mess, her body throwing everything it could to accommodate him, her cries dragging out into deep moans, fully under his spell. 

He couldn’t help himself. All of those nights where his cock had only been comforted by his own hand were running him down, crackling at the edges of his mind, eating away at his humanity, ravenous and desperate. Finally feeling her, hearing her cry for him, watching the way her pussy sucked him in; it was making him wild. 

His desk was rocking off of its feet, scooting across the floor of his office, John’s strength too much for it to hold him back. He pulled her knees together, using them to push her thick thighs against her belly, holding her down at a new angle. For a few moments, he let himself get lost in the delightful jiggle of her body as he railed against her, admiring how her fat ass rippled with each of his thrusts. 

“John… J–John. Oh, my God,” she gripped the edge of the table, her elbows framing her head on either side, the new position making her breasts hang and sway like heavy teardrops. 

“Come for me, love. C’mon. Let me feel it,” he growled breathlessly, leaning against her leg, letting his lips and tongue graze along her ankle, tracing the skin between the straps of her gleaming heels. 

“I’m… so close…”

John kept his pace, even though everything within him wanted to breakdown and follow her over the edge. His cock was throbbing, sending him every signal that it was ready to burst, his aching balls full and tight, the nerves in his groin burning with hot pleasure. 

Then, he was rewarded for his patience. She began to unfurl beneath him, unraveling like a tangled ball of yarn, chaotic and spinning out of control. Her muscles within her core clamped down on his cock, milking him like a hungry mouth, yanking him deeper inside of her as she came. With all of the strength he had left, he pulled himself out of her at the last moment, spraying rope after rope of his come across her pulsating hole, painting her pussy with his own orgasm, grunting like a rabid animal. 

He let her legs fall open, weak as she was, watching as she melted on his desk, laying beside her. She curled into him, resting her head on his chest, still fully clothed in stark contrast to her nakedness. Both of them were breathing in ragged, exhausted bursts, clinging to each other for any kind of strength they could find left. 

“Thanks for… helping me, John,” she smiled up at him, kissing his neck. 

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he kissed her forehead, “Research is my second favorite thing.”

“What’s your first?” She looked lost, still reeling from what he had just put her through. 

“Oh, love,” he let out a low rumbling laugh, “Gimme a few minutes and I’ll show you again.”