#that's why I never want to talk about it since people might feel sad or pity me hahaha

[milli-moi]

People being mad at the new info Jac Schaefer has given, why are we mad?

Maybe I have a different perspective somehow but I feel like people are mad at the lack of information on Agatha and Rio’s lives together but are even more mad at the information that the show runner is giving us…?

Maybe it’s different in some ways as I had less personal stakes in the outcome but didn’t Wandavision also leave us with a lot of ends that were not tied up? Didn’t it leave us with a bunch of them that are still not tied up, four years later?

I understand that people want to see these stories on screen, I want to see them on screen too! But I can’t understand why people are mad at the story not wrapping everything up neatly when Jac Schaeffer has never given us that in a marvel project before.

Also for those blaming Jac specifically I think it’s worth remembering that a) there have been directors and writers who have turned down working with Marvel due to lack of creative license and b) Jac has actually told us that she was only allowed to use the word ‘gone’ when talking about Wanda. To me that says enough, we know that marvel is very tight on what the writers and creators are able to do, so we shouldn’t be complaining about rhe showrunner’s input, we should be complaining about the higher powers.

I guess I just find it sad that instead of people being excited that we now have knowledge of this marriage they are more interested in complaining about what we don’t have.

Maybe I’m too old but I think people forget that the huge amount of insight we have nowadays into the behind the scenes aspect of both film and tv hasn’t always existed. We never used to get this wealth of interviews and even when we did it wasn’t to this level.

As someone who creates things I know how much of a story is often held back. I know how much writers might want to include but can’t for multiple reasons, the only difference is that now they get to share that stuff with us.

Rant over, just wanted to share my thoughts since I’ve only seen negativity shown to this article so far.

[haru-chi]

I'm sorry if I had worried anyone yesterday ... I didn't mean to ...

I think I even kinda regret having worried my sister because I asked for little help which she couldn't do so got worried ...

I then called my friend after that which was very late at night 3AM .... she got also worried cuz I never ever did that ...

I hate this .... I really do .... because I do know none can help me in this, it's my own battle so why worry them

Wanted to vent here for a bit and I'm sorry if made someone worry ...

[cathymee]

discourse is wiiiild

who is this

so true bestie

[sheeezu]

Things to expect when you've mastered shifting

This isn't the normal "oh you'll feel on top the world" kind of post which just hypes up everything and the sole purpose is to motivate. This is (???) the logistics, the indepth version of what you'll face psychologically.

I've shifted close to about a hundred times, whether it was from this reality, or shifting within a reality I shifted.

This is all from my personal experience, you might experience differently.

⋆ Disassociation: when you shift back to your original reality, you'll often times confuse both reality's memory, of course, we all know this, doesn't matter if you shifted or not. But what I've seen no one talk about is that sometimes events and certain objects from your DR will unintentionally manifest into your CR, just because of how deeply rooted they become in your subconscious. For example, I had maybe mentioned this somewhere else, but in my DR I had scripted expensive china cups, which broke on my second day being there. Well two weeks ago my family was gifted the same teacups (some details were off) and one of them managed to get a crack in them after we served the guests tea in it.

⋆ Weird Dreams: Not only is the concept of the dreams weird, but overall mechanics of it are unusual as well (I didn't shift unconsciously in my dreams, that's one boundary I've established)

For example, dreams with people claiming to know the future, telling me, and it coming true the next day, but it being minor details, people from my DRs channeling me, dreams which involves falling out of reality/finding the end of the multiverse.

Dreams which involves me floating, strong winds which blow away entirely of the void reality (CR), I had started getting this dream since I've wanted to permashift, the wind is so strong and I feel it, I'm usually at my college and or doing a mundane activity in my current reality, everything dissapears and I end up in the void state for the rest of the night.

Once my S/O visited me in my dream, he asked me to come back home, it was a lucid dream so I consciously agreed because I couldn't deny him; ended up in my home reality.

⋆ Feeling weirdly sad about your CR: this one might be personal to me. truth be told, I haven't studied a single day since I've successfully shifted. This year all of my classmates and age fellows are going to start looking at university applications, the ones they mention are usually universities I used to dream all day long about getting into, when I didn't know about shifting. It forms a pit in my heart, the passion I once used to have regarding hardwork by investing blood sweat tears into studying, pinterest board filled with quotes such as "some dreams are worth more than my sleep" not stirring anything within me. It's not that I think I can't get these things, i know i can just shift to a parallel reality and get it, but I just don't want to, I don't feel the same about this reality anymore, slowly letting it go, no matter how much I try to cling onto it, I know I was never meant to be here.

⋆ Personality changes: When you become an expert at shifting its no question that you'd shift very frequently. Those DR selfs would influence your personality, and people can think you're developing a split personality disorder.

Take me as an example, if you look at the posts on my blog, you'd notice a different tone in each one of them, some are in a more softer tone and the others feel clinical.

⋆ Putting your DR family first, even though they're not here: I don't know how to explain this one, so I'd just take an example out of my own experience again.

I was out shopping with my mother for sweaters, the ones we were coming across were really good quality, but I could only think of my S/O, she was pointing out the things she thought I'd like, but I kept looking at the men's sweater, subconsciously trying to pick one out for him, which weirded my mother out slightly.

...

Why am I crying.

Anyways I have planned to permashift out of this reality before new year, it was my childhood dream to blog, but I was too shy to do so and never had anything common with anyone. But I've finally completed the final thing on my list, alongside with meeting my cousin who I adored, I decided to add her to my DR.

That's it, I'll go on and answer the 50 asks in my inbox.

...

[shy-writer-999]

1-800-LONELYCHEF . ₊ ⊹ .

Summary: The same man calls you every Friday at 11:30PM. It seems like he has nothing better to do. After months of the same routine, you've started to take a liking to him, which is a problem, considering that he's your client... and you work at a phone sex hot line. WC: ~7k. CW: NSFW content! ANGSTY! Afab reader w/gendered language (she/her pronouns). Masturbation, oral sex. MDNI plz!

“Hello?”

You’re very familiar with the caller on the other end of the line. He calls you once a week—every Friday, after his shift at the bougie restaurant he works at, 11:30PM on the dot.

He must be very attractive, or at least that’s what you’ve garnered over talking to him for many months.

At first, he was evidently too shy to make use of your more… explicit services. This is a phone sex hotline, after all.

He honestly sounded like he just needed someone to vent to. So, you listened, as was your job. After the first few months, you both got more accustomed to one another. His shyness melted away. He got friendlier.

It’s been six or seven months since he first called. You’ve become very fond of him, but you have no idea what he looks like. So, one day, you decide to ask.

“Your voice is so sexy,” you start, giving him a line that you gave everyone, except this time you mean it. “I can’t help but wonder what you look like, Sanji.”

With other callers, you’d have to check what their name is before you say it. But you’re far past that point with him, and every time you say his name it makes his heart flutter.

“Well,” he says. “I’m blonde. And my eyebrows have a little… curl to them. I’m a decent height and I have a bit of a goatee.”

“And what color are your eyes?” You ask, trying to get the full picture.

He notes that question. It’s a thoughtful one. You’re thoughtful, in general. He knows that you are just being nice to him because, well, it’s your job, but also… he can’t shake the feeling that you have a soft spot for him. Do you talk to everyone like this?

“My eyes? Hmm. It depends on who you ask. I don’t know, really. Some people say they’re black, other people say grey, I’ve had a few tell me they’re blue. I’m not sure.”

You hum in response. There’s a beat of silence.

“What sort of eyes do you like?” He asks. He’s cheeky like that. You have the feeling that he has a real soft spot for you, too. Why else would he call you every week? There are plenty of others he could call. But he just sticks with you every time.

You respond. “It depends on who you ask. But historically I have liked guys with black, grey, or blue eyes. Do you happen to know anyone who fits the bill?”

He can tell that you’re smiling. He finds himself blushing, getting giddy for a few moments before he realizes that oh, right, you are at work, and oh, right, he is paying you to talk to him, like the loser he is.

His voice falters a bit the next time he speaks, a couple of seconds later. You know the exact thought that just went through his head. It’s something you are well aware of but… it does make you a bit sad with him. You like him far too much for your own good.

You wonder if you would like the look of him in real life, painfully single as you are. You wonder if he would like the look of you.

You might have a teeny tiny crush on this guy you’ve never met. Teeny tiny is a massive understatement. Just because he’s so consistent—you’ve never met a man as consistent as him—and so kind, and such a gentleman, even on the phone.

But tonight, the call ends earlier than usual. It seems that your open flirtation was a bit too genuine for him. Hit a bit too close to home. He finishes the conversation and dodges your attempt to take it farther.

“Thank you as always, beautiful. It’s a pleasure to talk to you. See you next week.” The phone hangs up abruptly. He’s gone now.

He always calls you beautiful, like everyone else does, but… it just means something coming from him. Maybe because he’s the only caller who has ever wanted to truly know something about you. And every time he hangs up, he says ‘see you next week,’ even though you never see each other. It’s cute.

You find yourself wishing he was still on the line. You’re a bit bummed that he hung up this early, not because you’re going to be left wanting for money (he always overpays), but because you always look forward to talking to him.

When you take the next caller, you’re quickly reminded that Sanji is by far the youngest and kindest of anyone who has ever called you.

---

“Hello?”

He’s on the line again. It’s Friday again, 11:30PM sharp.

You respond, tone warmer than it needs to be, given that you’re speaking to a client. “Hi.”

You’re glad to talk to him. Very realistically, this is the only interesting thing you have to look forward to—it’s not like you can afford to go out and party on the weekends. Or any day, for that matter. He’s your Friday night date every week. That doesn’t escape him.

“How was your week?” He asks, like he always does. He’s the only client who has ever asked you that.

You respond as frankly as you can without overstepping. “Hmmm. It was alright. Pretty boring, in general. It could have been better. How was your week?”

He pauses for a moment. “It was pretty good.”

“Tell me about it.” You prompt, and he begins detailing his week for you, as is your routine.

The things you know about this man’s life are random and vast, among them, you know that he lives in the city next to yours, he eats oats every morning for breakfast, and that he chain smokes as often as he can get away with (which is almost 24/7). You’ve been privy to him trying to cut back on his nicotine intake more than a few times, and he has never forgotten that you cheer him on every time he tries.

Among other things, this week he had to go to work on his usual day off (Wednesday) because the sous-chef called out (again). You can hear him roll his eyes when he says that. You roll them too, even though he can’t see.

He vents about that, and you hear him out.

“The sous-chef sounds like a real asshole,” you say. “Always has. Didn’t he call out a couple weeks ago?”

He laughs out loud at your honesty. “I fucking know, right? And yes, he did. It’s ridiculous.” Then his heart skips a beat. You really do pay attention to what he says.

“They don’t appreciate you as much as they should, Sanji. I bet I could talk some sense into them.” You say, and you both chuckle for a moment.

“What else happened this week?” You follow up, genuinely wanting to know. This man fascinates you. With how charming and sweet he is, it’s a wonder to you that he’s single. Also, the life he lives is quaint. He is a man of routine, a hard worker, and he’s driven. He has a strong and warm personality.

When he replies to your question, you can’t quite make out the tone of his voice—is that reluctance? Hesitation? Shyness? Or awkwardness? It’s hard to tell.

He responds to your question. “Well… I went on a date last night.”

Before you can wonder why, your heart starts to sink. Fuck. You really do have a crush on this guy, don’t you?

You regrettably (internally) acknowledge your disappointment. You do have a massive crush on this guy. And he’s your client. So, get a grip.

Your acting skills have to be excellent for this job. You make good use of them now. “Oh, a date?” You emanate the pinnacle of excitement for him. “How was it?”

This has happened maybe half a dozen times before. The dates always go well but the follow through rate is bad. Obviously. Or else he wouldn’t be here. But every time it has happened, your heart always sinks. Not a fun feeling.

“It went really, really well.” Sanji’s voice is happy. “Might have been the best date I’ve ever been on.” You know he’s smiling right now. Positively beaming. Your heart breaks a bit before you reprimand yourself. You have no right to like this man the way that you do.

He probably wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot-pole if he met you in real life (you tell yourself this, and you know it is a lie, but you try to say it to make yourself get a grip… needless to say, this strategy doesn’t work.)

“How was she?” You ask because you know he wants to talk about it.

“She was thoughtful, kind, and considerate. Very sweet. Kind of like you, actually.” He says, not realizing how much those words make your smile fall. “One of the cooks set us up. Like a blind date. I had no idea what to expect but she was gorgeous. Wow. So funny, too.”

His voice trails off. It’s your turn to talk.

“Awh, Sanji, I’m so glad. You deserve some attention.” Your voice is sugar coated like usual and his heart patters.

The conversation wanders into various topics. The woman he went on a date with is a veterinarian. That sours your mood. She must be real swell. Caring for sick animals and all that stuff. Ugh. The whole topic is forcing you to accept the fact that you like this guy wayyyy more than you should. You have no business having this intense of a crush on him, having this intense of a crush on a man who is, ostensibly, and for all intents and purposes, using you as his rent-a-girlfriend.

The pair of you then talk about relationships—has he ever been in one? (Yes, ages ago.) What is his love language? (Physical touch and acts of service.) What’s his type? (Essentially, you.) You ask him questions and he asks you them back. It’s a nice conversation, an intimate one, one that would have you feeling better if not for the fact that he just happened to have an amazing date.

After a while, the conversation dwindles. You know that he’s in the mood to do what this whole thing is really about—phone sex. When Sanji is in a really good mood or a really bad mood, he takes advantage of your expertise in this area. Tonight is the former.

“Is there anything else on your mind, handsome?” You ask, gauging what he’s up to tonight.

“Mmmm, there is. What are you wearing, gorgeous?”

You smile. He’s cute. Usually, you lie when men ask you this question. But with Sanji you tend to be a bit more truthful. Maybe it’s the fact that you feel like he’s going to get taken off the market soon and never call you again one day, or maybe it’s something else, but you’re getting the urge to be more candid and flirtier with him than you’ve ever been before. Real flirty, not work flirty. You’re getting the urge to step out of whatever character you put on when you pick up the phone.

“Do you want the regular client answer, or the Sanji answer?” You say, bold and not giving a fuck. Why not? He can have the real answer, hell, he can have some realness because you’ve talked for so long, and because you like him so much. Like you said, he deserves some attention.

“Oh. How about both?” He’s tickled and intrigued. “I’m flattered that I have my own option.”

“You always do. Well, the regular client answer would be that I’m wearing a babydoll slip dress made of black mesh… with a black lace thong and thigh-high black stockings. Do you like that?” Your voice starts to transform; it starts to drip pure lust, candied in honey and flattery. It’s a well-trained skill. Sanji gets hard almost immediately, tenting his pants and widening his thighs.

“I like it very much.” His voice is getting huskier, thicker. You love it when he sounds like that. His voice really is sexy. He continues. “Now, tell me the Sanji answer.”

“It isn’t nearly as glamorous. Do you still want to know?”

He nods, but it’s not like you can see him. “Of course.”

“I’m wearing a black tank top and blue plaid sweatpants. No bra, but I actually am wearing a black lace thong.” You laugh. “Very sexy, right?”

His voice comes out raspier this time. “It is, though. I much prefer the Sanji answer.”

“You’re sweet.” You say, and he can tell you mean it. “Now, what are you wearing?”

Sanji blushes and his erection strains against the fabric of his boxers. “Do you want the regular client answer, or the You answer?”

You laugh again. “How about both?”

“Well,” he continues. “The regular client answer is that I’m in black slacks and a white button down. A few buttons are undone and my sleeves are rolled up to my forearms. I’m wearing black loafers and black socks. Now, the You answer isn’t nearly as glamorous. Do you still want to know?”

“Mhm.”

“I don’t have a shirt on and I am coincidentally wearing blue plaid sweatpants as well. Can you believe that?”

“No way. Really?”

“Yep.”

“Anything underneath?” Your voice is coy and his erection pulses.

“Yep. I have boxers on. Boring black ones.”

“And what’s going on underneath of those?”

He dryly chuckles and reaches down to rub his hard on for a second. “A lot.”

“Just what I wanted to hear.” You practically purr and he runs his palm over his bulge in response.

He lets out a soft groan that make you feel some sort of way. “Oh yeah? Y’know, even though I don’t really know what you look like, I just know that you’re looking sexy in your pajama outfit right now.”

Your witty reply is stopped short. He’s the only one who is this real with you. Most of the men on the other line tend to be creepy, old, and just downright weird. This is a dying profession, after all. Sometimes the other clients are rude and dismissive, too. But Sanji… you know he really means what he says.

“You’re adorable, Sanji,” you say. “I’d venture a guess that you look pretty good right now, too.”

“Mmmm.” He hums, heartbeat rising as he continues to palm himself. “I wish I could see you right now.”

You can’t tell if this is part of the fantasy. You really did wish you could see him, though.

“What would you do to me…” your voice is smooth as silk. “If I peeled off my tanktop and shimmied out of my sweatpants?”

Sanji’s breath hitches. Something feels realer than usual about this—knowing what you’re wearing right now, what you’re really wearing, is turning him on beyond belief (assuming that you’re telling the truth, but he always chooses to believe that you are).

“If I was there, I’d kiss you, actually.”

His answer catches you off guard. You’re not sure he’s said something like this before.

There is silence for a second. You don’t know how to respond, really. You decide to just respond honestly, without appearances. Fuck it. He’d probably be off the market soon if his amazing date was anything to tell for it, so might as well.

“Wow, that’s really sweet. I’m not sure anyone has said something that nice to me in years.”

He tuts. “That’s my lowest bar of sweetness. I can go much sweeter than that, my love.”

He’s never called you that before, either. You’re starting to forget that this is a work call. It feels distinctly different than one.

“I’d like to see how sweet you can get, Sanji.”

His cock twitches again. Fuck. You really have a way with words. You get him more riled up than anyone he’s ever met before.

You continue. “After you kiss me, what would you do to me?”

“I would kiss every inch of you.”

Your heart melts. Fuck. Is this guy a saint? Where does he get off being so suave?

“Mmmm. That sounds nice. I’d like to return the favor.” Your tone, to Sanji, is effortlessly erotic. The thought of you kissing every inch of him—yes, even those inches—has him grinding the palm of his hand over his cock.

“Sounds even better. Then, if you let me, I’d go down on you.” The blonde is starting to get worked up. You can tell from his voice—when it gets all husky like this, you know he’s about to start touching himself, if he isn’t already.

Also, the fact that he said ‘if you let me’ really struck you. No one had ever said that before in your line of work. He has the tendency to say things you’ve never heard before, and he always surprises you.

“Of course I’d let you go down on me,” your voice gets softer. “What exactly would you do?” You wonder if he’d be any good. Maybe his answer will be elucidative.

“I’d start by kissing up your thighs, one at a time. Then I’d very slowly, very gently kiss your clit. Hopefully it would feel good. After a while, I think I’d be able to tell if you liked it. I’d run my tongue downwards and taste you. And tease you as much as you’re willing to put up with.”

“Mmmm. I think I could put up with a lot.” You let out a breathy sigh. You’re starting to warm up between the legs. With that voice, and those words, and that mental image… it sounds divine. You’re about to let yourself get carried away. It’s tempting.

“Is that so?” Sanji decides to keep going with the fantasy as long as you’d let him. Frequently, this happens the other way around. You usually describe to him, in great detail, what you would do to him. Apparently tonight it would be the other way around.

“In that case,” Sanji continues, “I’d take my time with you. I’d push my tongue inside of you delicately at first, then harder, and switch between that licking your clit.”

You can feel that you’re getting wet. It has only ever been with Sanji that you’ve actually gotten aroused while talking to a client. Usually, you’re as dry as the Sahara when talking to clients. But this man does things to you. Sinful things.

“What else?” You ask, biting your lip and sneaking your hand lower. You decide that, just this once, it’s okay to get carried away.

He can hear it in your voice. The synthetic, sugary (but still very much erotic) tone is dissipating and he’s hearing, for the first time, your voice bathed in genuine arousal. Your breaths are quicker than usual, your tone is less composed, and he can tell that you’re hanging onto his every word.

At the same time that his hand goes under the waistband of his boxers, yours goes under your underwear. He starts to stroke himself, relishing the first ripples of pleasure from his hand, and you do something similar. Each movement of your fingers is accompanied by his voice, by some filthy image he puts in your head.

“When you’re moaning loud enough, I’d press my middle finger into you slowly, to make sure you’re comfortable. After a moment, I’d move my finger and caress you inside a bit, and if it seemed like you liked it, I would press my ring finger into you.”

You start to mimic what Sanji is describing. It feels dangerously good. A barely audible sort of gasping sound falls out of your lips and Sanji hears it. His fist goes faster. He hasn’t ever heard you make that sort of noise before—he’s heard fake moans, sure, they were still hot (and he always told himself they were real). Anything you did was hot. But this sort of noise was the sort that could only be caused by one thing—pleasure.

Sanji’s fist goes a bit faster when he concludes that you may be touching yourself. The idea makes him feel like he’s on fire.

“I’d curl my fingers inside of you and find your g-spot… draw circles around it and press it while I place some kisses on your clit. Would you like that?”

His question catches you off guard—you’re getting lost in the act of fingering yourself.

“Mmmm. I would like that, Sanji.”

“How would I know that you liked it?”

“I’d, fuck,” another soft moan slips out of your lips and Sanji squeezes his cock tighter. “I’d run my fingers through your hair and pull you closer. Buck my hips into your tongue so you, ah, get deeper.”

“What would you say?” His voice is low now, and you can hear a faint sound in the background. He’s fisting his cock to your conversation, which is nothing new, but it brings you more of a rush than usual right now because you’re touching yourself too. “What would you say if you liked how I ate you out?”

“Don’t stop,” you shudder, and it sounds like it would if he was actually eating you out. The noise makes his heart flip. He can hear wet sounds from your end of the phone, too. He can hardly believe his ears, but sure enough, he can make out the noises of you bringing your fingers in and out of yourself.

“I wouldn’t,” Sanji says and then groans. The obscene noise goes straight to your aching core. You’re going to orgasm soon. “I wouldn’t stop until you came all over my face and I licked you clean.”

“Fuck,” you mewl. “That sounds, ah, sounds like it would feel good, Sanji.”

“Does it feel good?” He counters, twisting his hand over the head of his cock. His fist brings down the precum that has been beading at his tip, and the sensation makes his hips rock up inadvertently.

“Mmmmphhh, I—yes, it feels good, Sanji. Feels so good.”

You curl your fingers inside, searching for the spot that Sanji mentioned before. You press on it as you speak. You know he’s going to love the noise you make.

He grunts and throws his head back. He’s going to cum soon. He’s going to cum if you say his name some more. He wants it. “Say that again.”

“Fucckkk, Sanji. Feels so good.”

“I love hearing you say my name. I’m—hah—‘m gonna cum if you do it again.”

“Sanji. Sanji. Sanji, fuck, Saannnjjjiii.” On repeat, you moan his name through your orgasm, which you finally allow to wash over you. He can hear it in your voice, can hear you trying to force his name out of your mouth between keens.

Your voice has never sounded so good. He’s sure now, sure sure, that you’ve been touching yourself this whole time and that you just came. It’s a first for him. He’s suspected your arousal at other times, but this time, it’s a confirmed fact. In an instant, the fantasy fades and he can see the moment for what it is—you’ve thrown away the pretenses, acting skills, and flattery, and, for a handful of minutes, you’ve been 100% yourself with him, more so than ever before.

That’s what makes him cum. Your unreserved sincerity and desire. It’s the hardest he’s cum in a long time—and that’s a high bar, considering the fact that any time he broaches these activities with you he cums hard.

When you’re both panting in the euphoric aftershocks of your orgasms, Sanji whistles. “Damn.”

You hum in agreement. “Wow.”

He cracks a joke. “So, am I supposed to send you an invoice after this one?”

He’s hilarious in general, and this one makes you laugh. “I might allow it.” Your tone is uncharacteristically bashful. You’re about to say something you’ll later regret. “I think you’re the only person who has ever gotten me off over the phone.”

Sanji is taken aback for a second. “Really? I’m honored. And surprised.”

You almost instantly regret oversharing, chuckling awkwardly before you realize that this is a work call, and you should act accordingly. But it’s hard to pull yourself out of the intimacy of this moment and you don’t want to. So… against your better judgment, you don’t.

“I’m impressed, Sanji. Maybe we should do this more often,” you say, and Sanji’s heart thumps again. “You don’t have to only call me once a week, you know.”

“As long as you won’t get sick of me, I would love to. And we can do this again any time, gorgeous. It’s seriously my pleasure. You don’t know what you do to me, it’s only fair that I return the favor.”

While he’s saying the last part, Sanji realizes that this isn’t a favor, really. He tries to brush off that sad feeling for a moment but finds himself wondering what you really think of him.

It’s time for him to go to sleep, he concludes. He’s exhausted after a long shift and a hard orgasm.

“So, same time next week?” His voice is chipper.

“Mhm. I look forward to it, Sanji. See you later.” When the words leave your mouth, you wonder if he feels butterflies, too.

“See you later, sweetheart.”

Sanji hangs up the phone.

In your respective bedrooms, you’re both wondering what the fuck just happened. This call was full of lots of firsts and, little do you two know, the other feels elated.

But Sanji thinks about it more. He weighs his feelings for you against the practical understanding that he is, presumably, nothing more than a client to you. His heart aches at the thought.

And then he looks at his phone. The person who he went on a date with texted him while he was on the phone with you—she’s asking for another date. She says she looks forward to seeing him.

---

A week passes.

It’s Friday again.

11:30PM comes and goes. No call from Sanji.

In a span of over six months, this is the first time he hasn’t called you.

As you sit and wait for him, passing off other phone calls in case he decides he wants to speak to you tonight, your heart starts to sink.

Was last time a mistake?

Ten minutes go by.

Twenty minutes go by.

Many minutes go by. The time is now 12:30AM.

You’re left to conclude that last time was, indeed, a mistake.

You decide to take the night off. Your tears are making it hard to get any work done. You can’t put on that sultry voice and moan at old men in your current state.

There’s no denying it—his absence hurts you. Bad. Especially after last week. Especially after you admitted to him that you had never orgasmed over the phone before, and that you wanted to talk to him more often.

Why hadn’t he called you?

You wrack your brain for possibilities, but one major thing stands out. That date he went on. Maybe he went on another one and decided he liked them better.

Liked them better? You ask yourself after realizing what you just thought. He’s paying you to talk to him on the phone. Get over it. He isn’t going to keep calling you forever. What did you expect after last week? That he would just confess his love, offer to pay all of your bills, and that would be it?

You frown harder, hurting yourself deeper with your own rhetoric. The tears won’t stop.

It’s excruciating to realize that you like Sanji this much. You really like him. You know almost everything there is to know about him, too. And as much as you generally try to avoid giving out personal information, he knows a large chunk about you. Maybe that’s why it hurts so bad.

No, you tell yourself. Don’t kid yourself. You know it hurts this bad because you were hoping he liked you for real. You were hoping that this man, who you had never truly met before, who you had never seen, would, against all odds, decide that he wants you, even if he hadn’t seen you.

Fat chance, you tell yourself. Never do that with a client again, and this will never be a problem again.

---

Sanji does not call you back the next week.

Or the next week.

Or the week after that.

Or the month after that.

You are over it by the time the second month rolls around.

It’s pretty good timing, on your behalf. You think you’re really over this huge crush on a man you’ve never seen before. By the fifth month, you’re still telling yourself that you’re over this “crush”.

But that’s a delusion—any time you’re in public and there’s a blonde man, you find yourself scanning his face. Does he have a goatee? Could those eyebrows be considered curly? What color are those eyes?

When you see one that you think might be him, you always work up the courage to speak to them. But it never is Sanji. You would recognize that voice anywhere.

You wonder what you will say to him if he ever calls you again. Or if you see him in person. You decide that if he ever calls you again, you’ll either curse him out or break into tears.

In your most down-bad-hour, you contemplate showing up at the restaurant he is the chef at. You contemplate asking if you can see the kitchen. You just want a glance at him. A glance will keep your heart quiet.

But the joke’s on you—his restaurant is too expensive for you. Truly. You couldn’t afford a drink there if you tried. Okay, maybe just one. But you refuse to stoop to that level of desperation.

You’re a call away from him. He just has to dial your number.

You, on the other hand, have no way of calling or texting him. The service you work through scrambles client numbers before they’re patched through to you. The only way you know it’s Sanji is when he calls, at 11:30PM on the dot, on Friday nights. That’s Sanji time.

But it seems like Sanji time has come and gone.

You can’t shake the feeling that he did you dirty—but then you remember that he doesn’t owe you anything. This is your line of work. Phone sex. And that’s what you had. You just stepped over a boundary that you usually stay far away from. Whose fault is that?

No amount of logic can shake that feeling, though. You develop a little grudge against this man who you will never meet.

That’s what you tell yourself—that you’ll never meet him. But there’s a nugget of hope inside that, someday, he’ll call you. Someday he’ll kiss you. You try to obliterate that nugget though, as it is antithetical to the remedy to your lovesickness that you’re seeking.

Which will come first, him calling you, or you quitting this job that you’ve been meaning to quit for months at this point?

You hate to admit this to yourself, but he’s the only thing that was keeping the thoughts of quitting at bay. Maybe you really will quit this time around.

---

It is a Saturday night and you’re working again. It’s an unfortunately slow night, which sucks, because you really could use the money.

You’re scrolling on your phone, waiting for the next call to come in. It has been three hours with no calls. Guess all the creepy old men have plans tonight, which is such a shame because you need to pay rent soon. Sigh.

Time passes. You check the clock. It’s almost 11:30PM. The time doesn’t remind you of him anymore (well, much).

Maybe if you channel some of your good karma, ask the universe to cut a check of it right now, someone will call you for one long, lengthy conversation. You can help get them off as many times as they want. Five times in a row. You’ll break that record and go for six times if they just pay you. No questions asked.

Sure enough, a call comes through. You check the clock again. It’s been moving at a snail’s pace tonight. It’s 11:35PM. Hopefully whoever this is feels like talking.

“Hello?”

Your heart stops.

It sounds like Sanji for a second. But there’s no way. It’s been five fucking months.

“Hi.” You respond in your sugared up, sultry voice.

“It’s been a long time, gorgeous.”

It is Sanji.

Your heart flutters and your stomach flips. You’re speechless.

Don’t forget your game plans: curse him out or cry. But you can’t bring yourself to do either now that he’s waiting on the other line. You’re about to hang up the phone. You owe this man nothing and he owes you nothing—it’s that simple.

As you go to press the end call button, he speaks again.

“I’m sorry.”

The tears start now. The dam inside of you breaks. Hot tears pour out of your eyes and down your cheeks.

You didn’t think that hearing his voice would have this strong of an effect on you. But the heartbreak that you once thought faded away is now back in full force.

He’s waiting for a response before he hears shuddering breaths from you as you cry. Your tears are all the confirmation he needs—he knows that he was right months ago when he worked up the courage to confess to you. He should have done it. He knows that he was wrong to take the coward’s way out. And he knows he was wrong to tell himself that you didn’t care about him and wouldn’t care when he disappeared, because he was just a client to you. He was so terribly wrong. The sound of your sobs shatters him.

“I should have called you before. I’m so sorry. And maybe you hate me for waiting this long to call you again. I understand if you do. I just couldn’t keep it inside anymore, I—”

“Where the fuck were you?” You cut him off. Your anger is starting to seep through the tears. Maybe the first game plan can still happen. “I waited for you, Sanji.”

He doesn’t even try to think of a comeback or excuse. He tells you plainly what happened and, even though it breaks your heart some more, it makes sense.

“Well… I finally found someone. Last time, after I hung up, I had another date with that person I mentioned, and it went really well. So, we just kept going on dates. It didn’t feel right to keep calling you when things with her were progressing so quickly. We got together, and—”

“I understand, Sanji. That’s all I wanted to hear. Thanks.”

You slam your finger down on the hang up button. Your heart is broken enough as it is. He can keep all that yapping to himself. Good for nothing heartbreaker.

So what, he was with whoever that was. So what, they love each other and have been together almost half a year at this point. So what, he was just a client the whole time and you had gotten your hopes up for nothing and—your catastrophizing is stopped in its tracks when your phone starts to buzz again. You feel like it’s Sanji.

You pick up the phone. It is.

“Wait, wait, don’t hang up, please let me finish, please.”

“What, so you can tell me how much you love your girlfriend? I get it, Sanji. You paid me to talk to you for so long that of course you got sick of it and finally got what you had been after the whole time, a loving, very real partner. I understand that I’m just a service to be used and discarded later. That’s fine. Goodbye.”

“No. Listen to me.” Sanji’s voice is stern and harsh, a tone you’ve never heard from him before. “We got together and then she very quickly dumped me. Do you know what she kept saying to me? She said I was too absentminded. She thought I was thinking about someone else. Dumped me after two months because I couldn’t give her what she wanted. Absentminded.”

His words hang in the air for a few moments while you try to process why the fuck he’s explaining any of this to you and why it matters. He continues. His voice is emphatic, hurried, and nervous sounding.

“And if I’m being honest, I was absentminded. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I know this sounds fucking ridiculous because we’ve never met, and I understand if you tell me to go fuck off because I’m sure this happens to you all the time, but… I can’t get you out of my head. I’ve tried to for months. Three months. I told myself that I was an idiot for falling for someone out of my league. And the crazy thing is, I don’t even have to see you to know you’re out of my league. The way you act is out of my league. YOU are out of my league. You’re thoughtful, and kind, and considerate, and you pause before you respond whenever you talk because I can tell you’re really thinking over your response. And you’re funny. And witty, and charming, and you never once made me feel weird or less than for calling and finding solace in you. I’ve been lonely for years. I make the first move all the time, but it never works out. And I know I fucked this one up, and I know I didn’t have a chance in hell with you to begin with, but I just, fuck, I had to get this off my chest. I love you. I fell for you the first conversation we had. Now please tell me to fuck off.”

You can tell that every word he is saying is sincere and earnest. You can hear the emotion in his voice. While you wipe your tears dry and mend your heart together, you take deep breaths. He can wait for your response. Like he just said, you’re intentional about your responses to people. Every word matters. Especially with Sanji.

“Do you know how bad it hurt after our last conversation to not hear from you again?” You start.

He winces. He knew that was coming.

“I’m so so sorry. I’m so sorry. It was disrespectful of me, and callous, and if you hang up and never want to speak to me again, I understand and I deserve it.”

“You do deserve it.” You say, regaining some composure. “You really do, Sanji.”

“I’m sorry.” You can hear his frown. It’s a cute one. Fuck. His cute words are playing back in your ears too. So, he loves you?

Should you tell him how you feel? How you’ve felt for a long time?

One part of you is screaming at you to get a grip. But the other part—all the other parts—are finally, finally hearing what you’ve been wanting to hear for around a year at this point. That he likes you for you. That he sees you as you, and not some dolled up object of affection that’s only there to get people off and talk dirty to them. It has never been like that between you.

“If I accept your apology, Sanji, what then?”

“I—I actually didn’t think I would make it this far. But if you accept my apology, my next step is to ask you out to dinner with me. And to ask for your phone number. Your real phone number.”

You let out a long, deep sigh. “Sanji. My love. You could have told me these things months ago. It would have saved both of us so much heartbreak. I was devastated. Do you know that?”

You know that he already profusely apologized but you feel like driving it home a bit more. He deserves it. But while you talk, his hopes start to rise. You’ve never called him ‘my love’ before. Maybe that bodes well?

“I’m so sorry. I really am.” He sounds like he means it. You trust him enough to know that he does. Well, fuck it.

“Don’t think I’ll just forget about this because I’m head over heels for you, okay?”

“You—what?” He’s caught off guard. “You are?”

“Sanji. Yes. And you could have found out ages ago. Now, when are we going to dinner? You can apologize to me again then, too. And even if you don’t like what you see, you have to pay for everything. I’m getting an appetizer, an entrée, a dessert, at least two drinks, and whatever else I want. Okay?”

He laughs in relief. “Yes, okay. Yes. Holy shit, I didn’t think you would say that. I wish I could kiss you.”

“Wait—one last thing. If you decide you don’t like me after our date, Sanji, you have to tell me there on the spot. You can’t leave me waiting for another five months. You just can’t.”

“I promise, I won’t leave you waiting. I promise.”

When you hang up the phone a few minutes later (after more twisting the knife), you’re so thrilled that you can hardly breathe.

You can’t believe this is real life. You also can’t believe how quickly you just forgot your dignity, but you’ll unpack that later.

Dinner is set for tomorrow night. 7:30PM on the dot. Sanji is calling out of work, and he’s taking you to the (second) nicest restaurant in town (his is the first, obviously, and he wants to save that for a night where he can really plan ahead and spoil you).

---

When you get to the restaurant, Sanji is already there, waiting outside with a large bouquet of flowers.

He’s more handsome than you could have imagined. Of course he is. You do have great intuition, and you knew from the start that he was sexy. But… goddamn, he is sexy.

It makes sense now what he meant by curly eyebrows. He’s dressed well, too. He’s wearing black slacks and a white button down. A few buttons are undone, and his sleeves are rolled up to his forearms. He has black loafers and black socks. And he smells good. And he smiles good.

He’s so nervous he could puke. He hopes that when he sees you the nerves will melt. But they get 20x worse because he’s enamored with you. You’re beyond his wildest dreams—no number of fantasies could have led him to guess that you look like this.

He’s so obsessed that he starts to stammer before you tell him to calm down, and that he’s making you nervous.

Over dinner, you catch up on everything you’ve missed in the past few months of silence. You fill him in on details in your life that you previously kept to yourself, and he sees a whole new side of you.

At the end of the date, he tells you that he still loves you, that he loves you even more now, and that he’s so so sorry. He says that he’s mesmerized by you, that you’re more than he could have ever dreamed of, and that you can count on him for anything.

You seal the night with a kiss. A long one. It’s so romantic that you feel a bit disturbed with how happy you are after.

And it turns out that yes, this is your big happy ending. You make a perfect pair.

Epilogue: The day that Sanji finally shows off the techniques he told you about long ago, you’re more than satisfied. In fact, it seems like he was actually underselling himself there. You always knew he was the modest type.

thanks for reading! this was inspired by a whole lot of laufey! i hope you liked it. i love sanji so much it hurts me ;(

here's my masterlist if you're interested!

divider courtesy of @cafekitsune tag list @eggrollforyou

[vampcubus]

𝐊𝐍𝐘 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐇𝐂𝐒

a/n: i've been fussing over these for weeks just take 'em ;-;

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 : inosuke, tanjiro, zenitsu, kyojuro, and tengen + wives.

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : sfw, references to marriage and children.

𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐀

— Inosuke is not used to sleeping with other people, and you can tell he’s never been cuddled either. He tenses up and wriggles away the first time you attempt to spoon him in your sleep.

“You really don’t want to cuddle, Inosuke?” you sighed dejectedly.

“Why would I?!” 

You make a sad face and shuffle back to your own bedroll. With Inosuke’s usual total disregard for personal space, you’d thought he wouldn’t mind if you swooped in for a cuddle. He’s very much like a cat in that regard, he only wanted to be touched on his terms.

There’s a moment of silence before you hear grumbling and shuffling, and the next thing you know he’s pressed to your side, the fur of his mask tickling your chin as he tucks his “face” into the crook of your neck.

— Refuses to sleep any other way after that.

— He’ll act betrayed when you take naps without him when he’s readily available. “You took a nap without me?!” his heart is shattered, how could you?

— God forbid one or both of you are injured and get put in separate rooms because as soon as he wakes, he’s sneaking out to crawl into your bed with you. No amount of scolding from you or Shinobu is gonna keep him away for long.

— Tends to spoon you subconsciously, either slipping a leg between yours or wrapping it around you n holding onto you like a backpack. 

— He moves around a lot in his sleep, so prepare to wake up with a foot in your face or from getting kicked. Especially if he’s having particularly engaging dreams, you may or may not be mistaken for some all-powerful beast for Inosuke to conquer in dreamland.

— Inosuke is so god damn hyper in the morning and it can be a lot, especially since he wants you to be up too so you can start a new day together. It’s hard to keep up with his enthusiasm, and sometimes you just turn over and cover your ears with a pillow to drown him out. Most times that'll get your blankets yoinked, and you’ll be beaten to death (not really) with that same pillow.

“HEY DON’T IGNORE ME! WAKE UP!”

— Though sometimes he can be soft. You’ll wake up to a strange weight on your tummy and find him sitting there, staring at you like a cat waiting for its owner to wake up. And sometimes he’ll just lay back down, covering you with his body and nuzzling his face into your neck. And if you lift a heavy hand to play idly with his hair, he might just fall back asleep again.

𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐎

— A cuddle bug that wants nothing more than to snuggle up on the futon with you after a long night of demon slaying.

— He’s the type to scoot closer if you move away in your sleep since he will wake up if he doesn’t feel you there anymore.

— Please spoon him. You will not regret it for a moment. He runs warm and is the perfect size for cuddling! Tan sighs so happily when you pull him against you, tucking his head right beneath your chin. Your comforting scent and firm embrace lull him right to sleep.

— Alternatively, he wakes up if he smells your distress, so you’ll never be alone if you have a nightmare. You don’t have to tell him what it was about, but he does insist on staying up with you to comfort you. Even when he’s struggling to keep his eyes open, he’ll pet your head and just talk to you until you’ve calmed down enough to doze off again.

— His duties as the Sun Hashira often keep him away for long periods, and he definitely misses your presence at his side when he stops to rest. It’s simply not the same without the weight of your arm strewn over his waist or the soft sounds of your breathing. He’ll even miss your snoring. That’s why he's always eager to return, all of his worries disintegrating as you gather him in your arms and murmur sweet things to him until he nods off.

— In the summer months, he’ll understand if you don’t want to cuddle, but he’ll want to at least hold your hand. 

— Settling down for the night together is a cherished ritual and he wants to be a part of it. Whether it’s taking pins or accessories out of your hair, or putting it into a protective style for sleeping, he wants to help out. He’s also damn good at giving massages and head rubs, so never be afraid to ask if you need a little more help winding down. That man lives to dote on you.

— Tanjiro rarely has the heart to wake you up early, but he makes you breakfast and leaves notes around your home if he’s gotta run somewhere. He melts into a puddle if he finds you making breakfast early in the morning, domesticity really does it for him.

𝐙𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐀

— You’ve married a cryptid. I'm so sorry.

— Zenitsu sleepwalks as I’m sure you can imagine. You’ll wake up to him out of bed, standing ominously in the middle of the room.

“Zenitsu honey, come back to bed,” you’d murmur tiredly after the initial shock wears off. Even asleep he bends to your will, crawling back onto the futon to sidle up against you once more. 

— Other times you’ll hear noises coming from the kitchen and find him making a whole meal in his goddamn sleep. Which is quite adorable, but also dangerous like pls you’re going to hurt yourself.

— The times he’s not wandering about, he’s snuggled up to you as close as he can get, face buried in your chest or neck, arms and legs wrapped around you.

— He snores if he’s on his back but it’s soft enough to sleep through.

— Giggles in his sleep if he’s having a good dream (he always says all the best ones are of you ❤︎)

— Zenitsu tends to sleep sprawled out on top of you. Oftentimes he returns from a long day of demon slaying, crawls right on top of you, and crashes for several hours. 

— He’s your weighted blanket <333

— Zenitsu never wants either of you to leave the bed in the mornings. He’ll cling, whine, and plead for “five more minutes.” (but it’s always much longer than that) 

— Sometimes you can coax him to release the death grip around your waist with promises of his favorite breakfast or endless kisses, other times you’ll just have to cope with being late to places.

𝐊𝐘𝐎𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐎𝐊𝐔

— Deep sleeper!! with you anyways. As soon as he’s out, very little will wake him.

— Kyo’s definitely a cuddler! And the best suited for it too since he radiates heat like a furnace. It’s stifling during the summer months, but he truly can’t bear to be parted from you. Sleeping light or nude would be best, not like you’ll have to worry about getting cold when your husband is a literal space heater. 

— He’s an absolute dream during the colder months, and you know he takes full advantage of the weather as an excuse to snuggle every second of the day.

— Mumbles in his sleep every now and then. It’s usually gibberish or a breathy chuckle, but sometimes you can discern whispers of “tasty” and bits and pieces of your name.

— Kyojuro becomes reliant on your presence to sleep over time. It happened so slowly he didn’t realize his dependency until he found himself lying wide awake and restless out in the field. 

— He swore he could fall asleep anywhere before he met you but now… now he needs the sound of your soft snores next to his ear. He needs the feeling of your warm body against his. How was he supposed to sleep without someone there to hog the blanket? or crawl on top of him in the middle of the night when close just wasn’t close enough?

— Worst of all, you aren’t there to pet his hair and whisper sweet nothings to him as he wakes up — it’s those moments he wouldn’t trade for the world. You always treat him with such care, allowing yourself to be held hostage in bed until he also awoke, even when his profession meant his rest stretched on into the afternoon hours.

“The Flame Hashira lives!” you’d sing playfully as he blinks the film of sleep from his eyes, staring up at you with nothing but love and adoration. You’d lean down to kiss his lonely forehead, but not before purring your eagerly awaited utterance of “Good morning, baby.”

His eyes flutter closed as your lips brush over his forehead, grinning so widely his cheeks dimple.

“G’morning, darling flame,” he’d rasp in that rumbly morning voice that makes your cheeks feel warm. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

— Kyojuro tends to nod off while he’s got his head resting on your lap during dates, especially if you start playing with his hair. He wakes up later to find you’ve also drifted off while sitting up, slumped forward just slightly. Your hair frames your face, the late afternoon sun casting an ethereal glow onto you.

— Napping together is quite a regular occurrence, especially when your duties tend to keep you up during the evening hours. If you’re a slayer too, your sleep schedules match up rather nicely, meaning you’ll be frequently found in a tangle of limbs somewhere.

— If you have children, you’ll often find them knocked out cold with their father. (he’s the type to fall asleep with a baby on his chest) it’s the kind of scene that puts tears in your eyes and makes you sink to your knees. It’s all too tempting to join the cuddle pile with your husband and children.

𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐍 𝐔𝐙𝐔𝐈 + 𝐖𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐒

— Tengen snores, but not as loud as Suma. The two of them are making harmonies while Makio and Hinatsuru hardly make any noise at all. Though the three of you can all agree you wouldn’t be able to sleep without the sound of your lovers’ snoring after a while.

— They all say goodnight to one another which is very adorable.

“Goodnight Suma.” “Goodnight Hina.” “Goodnight Makio.” “Goodnight Lord Tengen!!” “Goodnight Y/nnnnn~”

It’s back and forth until everyone is accounted for 

— You five sleep in a tangle of limbs, but it’s the coziest cuddle pile you’ll ever sleep in. Tengen’s been married long enough not to be disturbed by shuffling or moving around since sleeping with various other people requires occasional readjusting no matter how you romanticize it.

— Suma usually demands a spot at your side so she can wrap herself around you like a koala. She does drool, but she usually looks so damned cute doing it that you don’t have the heart to move her away from your shoulder. She’s always whispering to you as everyone settles down for bed, and Makio often scolds her for giggling and keeping the others awake. 

— Prepare for those two to bicker over you, oftentimes literally. They’ll hiss and argue whilst they have their arms full of you.

— Hinatsuru sings you lullabies when you just can’t seem to sleep and plays with your hair. Her fingers scratch lovingly over your scalp, smiling as your eyelids droop further under her gentle affections and ethereal voice. You always wake up with a mouthful of her hair, but it’s so worth it.

— Makio gives excellent head rubs when you have a headache, and although she may pretend that you’re a nuisance, you can tell she enjoys taking care of her partners. She’s a big spoon and likes to hold your hand while she sleeps, blushing furiously when you raise her knuckles to your lips.

— Tengen rarely manages to snag you from his wives’ clutches for a spot at your side, but when he does he wraps his entire body around you and nearly smothers you with his heat. He cutely holds things while he sleeps so expect to wake up in a headlock. And if you’re in his clutches when he goes to roll over, you’re getting rolled over as well. It’s a bit disorienting, but he soothes you with an apologetic kiss on your temple if he wakes you.

— Tengen thinks it’s endearing that you try to hold him just like he holds everyone else, even with him being so big. You don’t seem to mind his size, wrapping yourself around him like a backpack and tucking his head under your chin.

— Mornings consist of detangling and lots and lots of kisses!

[meazalykov]

the season to (not) be jolly

barcelona femeni x esmee brugts x reader

summary: you hated christmas, and your teammates figure out why

warnings: childhood neglect, trauma, angst, financial poverty, etc

the excitement rings through the barca locker room like electricity, bouncing off the walls and between your teammates. 

the holiday break is just around the corner, only one training session and ninety minutes of football separating everyone from flights to faraway places like back home, home-cooked meals, and quality time with loved ones that only get to see them from the stands at important games. 

it is a cheerful chaos—laughter echoing, jokes being thrown back and forth, and plans being laid out like promises.

"we’ll be in norway,” mapi grins, slinging her arm around ingrid as she sits beside her. 

“ingrid’s parents already have the cabin ready. a real winter wonderland, i shall say.”

“it’ll be nice to be home,” ingrid adds softly, her smile as calm and steady as always. 

you sit at your locker, head tilted down as you lace your boots, pretending to be engrossed in the task as their words float around you. 

it feels safer to keep your eyes on your hands, watching how your fingers move—pull, tighten, tie. over and over again. anything to distract yourself from the sting in your chest.

you feel it every december. that heaviness. that punching ache in your ribs when people start talking about their families, their holiday traditions, and their childhood memories. 

you can’t relate. you never could.

to your left, keira and lucy are chatting animatedly about spending christmas in england, lucy teasing ona about the inevitable cold since ona will be going with her. to your right, patri and claudia are arguing over who will get more gifts from their loved ones, both wearing matching grins as they playfully push on each other.

but you? you just exist in the in-between, silent, invisible.  

the noise grows louder. the locker room feels smaller. your throat tightens, that familiar burn rising behind your eyes. you push it away. this is not the time to fall apart.

alexia’s voice cuts through the chatter again, light and teasing as she looks ahead at you. 

“nina, you’ve been quiet. what about you? where are you headed this christmas?”

you freeze for half a second. it’s subtle enough to go unnoticed, but the question lingers in the air like a heavy fog. you glance up, forcing your expression into something neutral—something safe.  

“nowhere special,” you say with a small shrug, trying to keep your voice steady. 

“just staying here at home. might catch up on needed sleep without needing to wake up for training.”

“no plans with family?” mapi asks, brows furrowing slightly.

you hate that. you hate when people ask about your family. after leaving your home to live in paris, where you played for a season and a half with psg (before leaving when the barcelona offer came up in 2021), you stopped talking to your mother who wanted nothing to do with you. 

your answer has never changed, and yet, every time it feels like a fresh wound being prodded.  

“yeah,” you mutter, looking back down at your laces. 

“just after christmas though.”

thankfully, mapi doesn’t press further. her attention shifts back to ingrid as she brings up the norwegian christmas markets, and you’re left to sink back into your silence, drowning in it. 

you look over at the corner of the locker room to see esmee, your girlfriend, looking right at you. jana sits beside her, laughing about a joke sydney made while esmee notices the sadness in your eyes. 

the look in your eyes can be hidden from the team, but you can’t hide it from esmee.  

she notices—of course she does—because she knows you better than anyone, even after just eight months of being together. normally, you’re her sunshine, a steady source of warmth no matter what the day brings. 

you’re the first to crack a joke after a tough training session, the one to steal food off her plate at team dinners just to see her roll her eyes, the one who sneaks kisses when no one’s looking and holds her like she’s the most precious thing in the world. 

but now? now you’re quieter, smaller. you smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes, and your laughter sounds hollow when it finally comes.  

“i don’t have to go, you know,” she told you last week as you sit together on the couch, her thumb tracing gentle circles over the back of your hand. 

“i can stay here with you.”  

you shake your head almost immediately, forcing a smile as you press a kiss to her knuckles. 

“no, es, you should go. your family wants to see you. they miss you.” 

you don’t tell her the rest—that you don’t want her anywhere near the dark place that december always drags you into. she’s too bright, too good, to get caught up in the emptiness you feel during this time of year. so you push her away gently, telling her you’ll be fine, that you’ll call her every day and send pictures of maple– your cat— curled up at the foot of the bed. 

esmee doesn’t look convinced. she squeezes your hand tighter, leaning her forehead against yours.  

“you’re not fine,” she whispers, eyes searching yours. 

“i am, esmee.” you say. 

you’re just tired, you convince yourself. however, the words stick in your throat because you know she won’t believe them. this is the first december you’ve spent together, the first time she’s seen you like this, and it terrifies you—being vulnerable in front of someone you care about so much. 

you’ve always hated christmas. as a kid, it was just another reminder of everything you didn’t have. no presents waiting under a tree. no stockings hung by the fire. no warm meals shared at a crowded table.  

instead, you had an empty house, cold and quiet.  

your mom always worked. always. christmas, birthdays, weekends—it didn’t matter. “we need the money,” she’d say coldly, pulling her coat on as she hurried out the door, leaving you behind. 

sometimes, she’d forget it was even christmas until days later.  

“we’ll celebrate next year,” she’d promise. but next year never came.

you can still remember what it felt like to see the other kids at your academy, showing off their shiny new boots, their expensive kits, their gear from nike or adidas. their parents would stand proudly by the sidelines, bundled up in warm coats, smiling as they cheered.  

then there was you, wearing a pair of cleats one size too big—scuffed, worn, bought secondhand with the crumpled euro bills you’d earned from mowing lawns or shoveling snow after training each afternoon. you’d tuck your hands into the pockets of your thrift-store jacket to hide the holes in the seams.  

your academy teammates didn’t know how lucky they were.  

you hated them for it, sometimes. hated their laughter, their joy, their easy lives. mostly, you hated yourself for feeling like you didn’t belong. for being the girl who showed up every day with nothing to show for it but grit, raw talent, and determination.  

now, years later, that feeling lingers.  

you’ve worked hard—harder than anyone—to get here. to wear the barcelona crest on your chest. to play alongside some of the best players in the world. to prove to yourself, and to everyone else, that you deserve this.  

no matter how much success you achieve, no matter how many goals you score or games you win, you can’t outrun the past.  

christmas will always be a reminder of what you never had.  

you pull your boots off, methodical and slow, as the locker room continues to cheer around you. your teammates don’t notice the way your shoulders slump or how you turn away slightly, shielding your face.  

“hey,” a voice says quietly beside you. it’s aitana, sitting beside you since her locker is beside yours. her tone is softer than usual, like she’s noticed something. 

“you okay?”

you nod quickly, too quickly.

“yeah. just tired.”

she doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t push. aitana never does. she just nods and goes back to her boots, letting the moment pass without making it heavier than it already is.  

you’re grateful for that.

you finish changing, moving through the motions on autopilot, your mind elsewhere. the noise in the room feels muffled, like you’re underwater, and when you finally leave the locker room, stepping out into the cold december air in your new training gear, you inhale sharply—like you’ve been holding your breath all along.  

the sun is already setting as you leave training hours later, streaks of orange and pink blending with the darkening sky. your breath comes out in clouds as you walk toward your car, hands stuffed deep into your coat pockets.  

you stare at the horizon for a moment, watching the city lights flicker to life in the distance. it’s beautiful, you think absently. and yet, it makes you feel so small.

tomorrow, the break begins. your teammates along with your girlfriend will board flights, heading off to homes filled with warmth, love, and laughter.  

and you? you’ll stay here. alone.  

you’ve grown used to loneliness over the years. it’s familiar. like an old coat you can’t bring yourself to throw away.  

that doesn’t mean it hurts any less.  

you sit in your car for a long time before starting the engine, the radio playing faintly in the background. a christmas song—cheerful and bright—fills the silence, and you quickly shut it off, gripping the steering wheel tightly.  

you hate christmas. you hate the way it makes you feel. like you’re still that little girl, watching the world through a window, longing for something you’ll never have.  

turning on the radio, you hear, “walking around the christmas tr–” before slamming your fingers on the mute button. there was no christmas tree in your apartment, nothing in your space shows that it is even december. 

not like alexia’s apartment that clearly shows that is is the holiday season. the scent of cinnamon candles and fresh pine greet esmee like a warm hug as she visits alexia. 

soft music plays from a speaker in the corner, and the living room is an organized mess of wrapping paper, ribbon spools, and tape dispensers scattered across the coffee table.  

“es!” mapi’s voice is the first to cut through the scene, grinning up from where she’s sitting on the floor, tape stuck to her sleeve. 

“about time you showed up. come help me wrap ingrid’s gift before she figures out what it is.”  

“you’re impossible,” ingrid mutters beside her, laughing as she ties a bow on someone else’s gift. maybe vicky’s since esmee saw the ipad that the younger girl asked for. 

esmee smiles at the couple teasing eachother, kicking her shoes off and settling onto the floor, careful not to disrupt the organized chaos. across the room, olga – alexia’s girlfriend – sits on the couch beside alexia, scissors in hand as she trims the edges of wrapping paper, while salma sprawls nearby, half her attention on the gift she’s wrapping and half on her phone.  

“is mine here?” esmee teases after a moment, eyes narrowing playfully at the pile of brightly wrapped boxes beside alexia.  

“it’s already done,” alexia replies without looking up, focused on folding the paper perfectly around a large box. 

“you’re not getting any sneak peeks until new year’s eve like everyone else.”  

“como no,” esmee groans dramatically, earning a laugh from salma and mapi. she leans back on her hands, soaking in the cheerful atmosphere for a moment, but the weight in her chest pulls her down before she can fully enjoy it. 

the smile fades from her face, and her gaze drops to her lap.  

“what’s wrong?” alexia asks, finally noticing the shift in her demeanor.  

esmee hesitates, chewing her bottom lip. “it’s... about y/n.”  

the room quiets slightly, everyone’s attention turning toward her. mapi raises an eyebrow, already halfway to smirking as she leans into ingrid. 

“trouble in paradise?”  

“no, no,” esmee says quickly, shaking her head. 

“it’s nothing like that.”  

olga sets down her scissors, studying esmee carefully. 

“then what’s wrong?”  

esmee swallows hard, fiddling with the corner of a ribbon. 

“i feel like... i need to stay in barcelona for the holidays. with y/n. she’s—she’s going to be alone.”  

alexia frowns slightly, confused. 

“no, she’s not. she told me she’s going to see her mom and family eventually.” 

esmee’s heart sinks, her brows furrowing as she glances up at alexia. “that’s not true,” she says softly, shaking her head. “she hasn’t spoken to her family in nearly five years.”  

silence falls over the room like a heavy blanket. alexia looks stunned, her brow creasing deeply as she processes esmee’s words. salma sets her phone down, staring in disbelief, while mapi and ingrid exchange quiet glances.  

“she told you that?” alexia asks carefully, her voice softer now.  

“yeah,” esmee nods, her voice steady but heavy with concern. 

“she doesn’t want anyone to know. i think—i think she told you that lie so you wouldn’t feel bad for her. she hates christmas. she’s always hated it. i don’t know why, but i can assume that it has to do with her family.”  

“joder,” mapi mutters under her breath, rubbing the back of her neck. 

“y/n’s gonna be alone? she didn’t tell anyone?”  

“she wouldn’t,” esmee says, guilt rising in her chest as she looks around at them. 

“she acts like everything’s fine, but it’s not.”  

ingrid exhales slowly, her face softening with quiet understanding. “we can’t just leave her like this,” she says firmly. 

“esmee’s right—she shouldn’t be alone.”  

“what do you suggest?” alexia asks, her voice sharper now, edged with determination.  

“we go to her,” mapi says immediately, pushing herself to her feet as if the decision is already made. 

“right now. if she won’t talk to us, we’ll make her.”  

“she’s going to hate me,” esmee says quietly, worry flickering across her face as she stands, too. 

“she doesn’t want anyone to know. she’s going to be so upset that i brought you all into this.”  

alexia crosses the room in a few strides, stopping in front of esmee and placing a hand on her shoulder. her expression is calm but resolute, a quiet authority in the way she looks at her.  

“she won’t be upset at you,” alexia says firmly. “i won’t let her be.”  

esmee lets out a shaky breath, nodding slowly as the others begin to gather their things. the cheerful hum of the evening is gone now, replaced by a silent determination that hangs thick in the air. alexia is the first to head for the door, already pulling on her coat, and one by one, the others follow—mapi, ingrid, olga, salma.  

as esmee pulls her own coat on, she sends up a silent hope that you will understand. she knows how fiercely you guard your heart, how much you hates people seeing the parts of yourself that are broken. 

esmee also knows that you deserve more than an empty apartment and silence on christmas day.  

back to you– the steam still lingers faintly in your bathroom, curling around the doorframe as you pad out into your apartment, feeling the lingering warmth of your everything shower settle into your skin. your matching red plaid pajamas feel soft and clean, clinging to you in that perfect way that only comes after freshly washed laundry. 

you won’t admit to anyone that the red plaid feels a little festive—that maybe, on some level, you allowed yourself to indulge in something resembling the season.  

your hair is pulled back in a loose, low braid, wisps escaping around your face, and your apartment is spotless. floors vacuumed, counters wiped down, blankets folded neatly on the couch. if you couldn’t have christmas, the least you could do was make sure the space felt fresh and ready for the new year. clean, organized, empty. just like you wanted it.  

you hum quietly as you step into the kitchen, reaching for the bowl of fruit on the counter. you’d planned to snack a little while watching a movie tonight, something non-festive—maybe a thriller like friday the 13th– anything that didn’t mention families or magic or joy.  

before your hands can reach the fruit bowl, there’s a knock at your door.  

you frown slightly, the sound cutting through the quiet apartment like an unexpected jolt. you assume it’s esmee—she’d mentioned she might come by to say goodbye before she left for the netherlands in the morning.  

“coming,” you call softly, feet shuffling toward the door.  

when you swing it open, your breath catches in your chest.  

standing in the hallway, crammed into the small space outside your apartment, are esmee, mapi, ingrid, alexia, salma, and olga. esmee stands closest to the door, just beside mapi, her expression tinged with worry that makes your stomach turn. 

everyone else has the same look—soft, cautious, and far too knowing.  

“what’s—” you start, forcing a smile to smooth over your features. 

“what are you all doing here?”  

“surprise?” mapi tries, her voice lighter than the rest, but even she falters when your eyes narrow slightly in confusion.  

“can we come in?” alexia asks softly, her tone careful.  

you nod slowly, stepping aside to let them file in one by one. salma gives you a small smile as she passes, and olga pulls you into a quick hug—her familiar warmth a brief comfort.  

“it’s good to see you,” she says, and you force another smile, nodding.  

“you too. it’s been a while.”  

as the door clicks shut and you turn back to face them, the knot in your chest tightens. their expressions don’t match their usual energy—not the teasing, playful banter you’re used to. instead, they’re quiet, gentle. worried.  

“is everything okay?” you ask, scanning the room as they settle awkwardly around your small living space. you go on sit on your grey colored sectional couch as everyone follows you. 

alexia is the first to speak.

“y/n... are you really going to see your family this year?”  

the question hits you like a punch to the gut. your heart drops, and your eyes immediately dart to esmee, who looks at you apologetically. you don’t even need to say it—your expression screams “did you tell them?” 

esmee shifts slightly, opening her mouth to speak, but mapi cuts in before she can.  

“she can’t save you from this conversation,” mapi says gently, though there’s no humor in her voice. 

“we know you lied.”  

you take a small step back, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “i’m fine,” you say quickly, the words rushing out before you can think. 

“i don’t have christmas plans, and that’s okay.”  

“it’s not okay,” ingrid says firmly, her voice soft but resolute. 

“y/n, it’s clearly not fine.”  

you feel the walls closing in, your heart pounding in your chest. the room feels too small, the air too thick. flight or fight mode kicks in—you want to run, to get away from their prying eyes and gentle words that feel like they’re picking you apart piece by piece.  

“there’s nothing wrong,” you stammer, shaking your head as you back toward the couch. 

“i don’t know what you’re all talking about. i’m fine—”  

“hey,” esmee’s voice cuts through the panic, soft but steady, and when you look at her, the tension eases ever so slightly. 

“it’s okay. nobody here is judging you, okay? you’re safe. you’re not in trouble for lying to ale.”  

her words ground you enough to sit down, curling into the corner of your couch. you hug your knees to your chest, wishing you could shrink into yourself, disappear completely. 

you don’t want to be here, in this moment, with all their eyes on you.  

“i just hate how everyone gets to have a good holiday except me,” you mumble, the words spilling out before you can stop them. your voice wavers, cracking slightly as the truth seeps through the cracks in your armor.  

ingrid is the first to move, crossing the room to sit beside you. she doesn’t say anything—just wraps an arm around your shoulders, holding you gently. olga comes next, kneeling on the floor beside the couch and resting a hand on your arm.  

“what do you mean by that?” olga asks softly, her voice a careful whisper.  

alexia moves to sit in front of you, dropping to her knees so she can look up into your face. her expression is open and kind, patient in the way only alexia can be.  

“what happened, y/n?”  

you close your eyes tightly, your fingers digging into your knees as you try to fight back the sting of tears. you don’t want to tell them. you don’t want anyone to know. but the words are already there, clawing their way out, demanding to be heard.  

“i never had christmas, my birthday afterwards did not seem important either..” you whisper finally, your voice so small it’s almost lost to the room. 

“i don’t even know what the happy feeling is supposed to feel like.”  

alexia’s brow furrows, and mapi leans forward, her voice quiet but gentle. 

“can you explain?”  

you take a shaky breath, the air trembling as it leaves your lungs. 

“growing up... it was just me and my mom. we didn’t have money for christmas. no tree, no presents, nothing. she worked all the time—she had to. bills came first. even with that, she was never nice to me. she made it seem like i was asking for too much.”  

your throat tightens, but you force yourself to keep going, to let it out.  

“when i was in the academy, all the other kids would come back after christmas with new cleats, new gear, new jerseys. i’d still be in hand-me-downs from thrift stores. i’d use money i got from doing yard work to buy boots that were a size too big to make sure i could fit in them for a few seasons– because it was all i could afford.”  

the room is silent as you speak, the weight of your words settling over everyone like a blanket. ingrid’s arm tightens around you, and olga gently rubs your arm as tears sting the corners of your eyes.  

“i hated it,” you admit, your voice breaking. 

“i hated watching everyone else have families, have traditions, have... love. i hated feeling like i did something wrong, like i wasn’t good enough to deserve it.”  

you bury your face in your knees, unable to look at them. your shoulders shake slightly as you try to keep yourself together, but the truth is out now, raw and ugly, and you feel exposed in a way that terrifies you.  

“you didn’t do anything wrong,” esmee says softly, sitting on the floor beside alexia now. 

“none of that was your fault, y/n.”  

you don’t respond, but the tears slip free, hot and silent against your skin. you feel alexia’s hand settle on your knee, grounding you, and ingrid presses a kiss to the side of your head.  

“it’s not fair,” you whisper. 

“it’s not fair that everyone else gets to be happy except me.”  

“but you deserve to be happy, too,” alexia says gently, her voice firm with conviction. 

“you deserve love, and joy, and traditions, just like everyone else.”  

“we can’t change your childhood,” salma adds softly. 

“but we can change this year and every year after this one.” 

you lift your head slightly, looking at her through blurry eyes.

“what do you mean?”  

“you’re not spending christmas alone,” ingrid says simply, brushing a tear from your cheek. 

“none of us are going to let that happen.”  

“you’ll come with me and olga,” alexia says. 

“we’re having dinner with her family on christmas eve, and you’re coming. no arguments.”  

“and before you say no,” olga adds quickly, smirking slightly, “it’s not a pity invite. it’s a ‘we want you there because we care about you’ invite.”  

you look around the room, at all of them—esmee, alexia, mapi, ingrid, olga, salma. their faces are open, kind, and so full of love that it makes your chest ache.  

“you don’t have to do this,” you say quietly, but esmee shakes her head.  

“we want to,” she says softly. 

“you’re not alone anymore, y/n. you have us now, you have me.”  

something shifts in your chest at her words, the weight you’ve been carrying for years lifting

you don’t know what christmas will feel like this year, but maybe, just maybe, it won’t be so bad.  

esmee shifts beside you, reaching for your hand, threading her fingers through yours as you lay your head on her chest. her touch is soft, steady, and when you glance at her, you see something unwavering in her eyes—love, determination, all of it laid bare.  

“i’m staying in barcelona,” she says quietly, her voice gentle but firm.  

your brows furrow immediately, and you sit up slightly. 

“esmee, you don’t have to—”  

“no,” she cuts you off, shaking her head with a small smile. 

“i’ve already decided. my family is coming here instead on the day after christmas. we’ll celebrate together, and you’ll be with us.”  

you open your mouth to protest again, the instinct to push her away rising, but before you can say anything, alexia’s voice chimes in, calm and final.  

“again, that’s not up for debate,” she says softly, kneeling back onto the floor to look at you, a small smile tugging at her lips. 

“you’re family to us, y/n. esmee’s family loves you just as much as we do. and that’s final.”  

you glance back at esmee, your heart tightening, your walls cracking just a little more as her thumb rubs soothing circles over your knuckles.  

“you’re not alone anymore,” she says again, her voice barely above a whisper. 

“this year, you’ll have a real christmas. with me. with my family. with our family.”  

you stare at her for a moment, overwhelmed by the weight of her words, by the love in her gaze that feels so foreign yet so familiar all at once.  

"okay,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly as the beginnings of a smile tug at your lips. 

“okay.”  

esmee leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as alexia gives your knee one last reassuring squeeze. the rest of the room seems to exhale in relief, the energy softening into something warm and safe, like a blanket wrapping around you.  

for the first time in years, you let yourself believe it.  

you’re not alone.  

and this year, christmas will be different.

masterlist

[yowumi]

underground boxer katsuki bakugou x nurse f! reader [ modern au ] TW. angst & smut

Underground boxer Katsuki Bakugou x Nurse F! Reader

Summary. Underground boxer Katsuki Bakugou who grew up watching his father fight in the ring, seeing the way men get knocked down just from the strikes of his fathers fist made his heart pump, he wanted to feel that adrenaline rush. Since then his father has passed and he fought his way into the life of a boxer. He wasn’t raised to be cared for or enjoy relying on other people, so why is it that he can’t wait for you to patch him up?

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Warnings. Fighting, Violence, Slight gore (nothing too serious), Angst (not as much as i thought there would be) Crying, Smut, Masterbation, Obsession, Bakugou has lowkey never felt the touch of a woman, etc. (Not too much smut really)

DISCLAIMER: Characters belong to Kohei Horikoshi.

A/N. this won the vote, i hope you guys enjoy (I love angsty shit) there’s implied smut and masterbation althought it isn’t very heavy. Ive been recovering from the hurricane that has been passing so I kinda brainstormed this and quick wrote in in 3 days, I hope you guys enjoy and stay safe with all the crazy weather happening <3

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One hit to the left, another to the right, 3 hits to the left and STRIKE. A man down.

Katsuki can feel the man get back up in hesitation, seeing his legs threatening to fall yet katsuki was untouched having the man on defense the whole round. What a sad component and this is supposed to be one of the best?

What a joke.

Taking katsuki lost in pride for granted, the man strikes him with a punch straight to the jaw, katsuki laughs already drunk of the adrenaline of such an unexpected move from someone as pathetic as him.

“atta girl, you’ve finally put your big girl pants on, i see” he teased the man, only making his rage stronger.

the guy comes charging at him in full rage, giving katsuki the advantage and knocking the man straight out leaving the man to hit the floor in a thump.

“yeah katsuki, you get his ass!” Kirishima cheers on from the bleachers knowing he’s up next.

Kirishima throws him his towel, “you make it hard for me to top that” and Katsuki gives a small glance of acknowledgment.

Katsuki wasn’t very talkative or perhaps he was talkative, but not very friendly. Although, Kirishima was someone he respected, he had known him since middle school so he’s friendly in his own way.

As Katsuki chugs down his water, some spilling on his chin, As stain begins to walk around the court, coming closer to Katsuki. Stain was known for his intense boxing skills, leaving some of them with eternal injuries that were fatal for many.

But Katsuki couldn’t give one shit. He had never met nor cared enough to listen to who he was, he hated the way he walked in like he owned the place, with that smug grin of his. God, he just wanted to punch that stupid look off his face.

“Who the hell is that runt” Katsuki orders answers from Kirishima, feeling the adrenaline rush comeback to him.

Kirishima gives off a small laugh, He wondered how Katsuki really didn’t know who he was, the guy was basically famous in the underground world.

“That’s Stain, he’s one of the best” Kirishima starts standing up knowing Katsuki’s temper might get the best of him, “He’s one of the guys you might not want to mess with in here, heard he’s killed a few.” He warned.

Stain notices the angry blonde haired man staring at him with hatred, in fact, Stain noticed from the second he walked in. He’s heard a lot about this new upcoming boxer ‘bakugou’, Katsuki being known for his punches being referred to as a ‘bomb’ or ‘explosion’, knocking his opponent’s out in one blow.

“Yeah, well it seems that bitch has a staring problem, he’s been staring at me like he wants my ass ever since he’s walked in.”

Katsuki begins to make his way over to Stain with nails in his fists as he hears Kirishima chase after him, “Hey katsuki wait- hold on now, you aren’t thinking man!”

“I’m just gonna put it out straight, I don’t like you or the way you walk around like you own everyone, so quit staring at me, will you!” Katsuki yells out at him with his usual annoyed aggression.

“Ah Bakugou, it’s nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard plenty, nice to finally meet you” Stain says giving a nonchalant and unreadable expression on him.

“I don’t care, i’ll care enough to know who you are if you can beat me in the ring.”

Stain thinks about his offer, “Hm, I guess we should settle this in the ring then Mr. Bakugou” He says giving one of his smirks that ticks Katsuki off.

“Yeah whatever, when I win, you’ll have to take your old ass away from here, maybe take yourself to a nursing home while you’re at it, grandma!” Katsuki yells at the man.

“And if I win?” Stain raises a brow. Kirishima sends a worried expression towards Bakugou, In which he ignores.

“You can take my spot in the ring for good or my ass, I don’t care, it’s not like I’ll lose anyways,” Katsuki says over confidently.

“If I win, you Katsuki Bakugou, will have to retire early.”

“Bet that.”

“I’ll see you in 7 months.” And like that it was settled.

They shake on it and go their separate ways.

Kirishima and Katsuki walk out into the dark alley in their usual comfortable silence before Kirishima finally breaks it,

“I don’t have a good feelings about this Katsuki, the guys dangerous and you both are putting your lives on the line” He expresses his concern.

“Every time we step into that ring we put our life on the line, this is no different, he is nothing special, quit worrying about it already.” Katsuki brushes him off.

Kirishima stares away as if he’s biting his tongue trying not to say what’s on his mind, Katsuki notices.

“If it’s bothering you that much, just come out and say it already, jeez” Katsuki says annoyed putting his hands in his pockets and stops walking.

“Well…maybe it isn’t a bad idea for you to retire early, you’re an amazing fighter, i’m not saying this because i think you aren’t good but because you have potential to get out of this place, you aren’t too deep in yet, you can still have a way out and live a good life, I don’t want you dying in here.” Kirishima feels relived finally getting that off his chest.

“Fighting is all I know, there’s nothing else for me, that’s just stupid, why the hell would i quit for a simple life like that when i could be rocking people’s shit and ego’s to the ground and you have a baby on the way with your girl, if anything you should be taking your own advice.”

Kirishima goes quiet, he knows he isn’t the person to be speaking about that subject when he knows Katsuki is right. They both needed help. Though they would never admit that.

With that they say their goodbyes to each other waving each other off as they go their separate ways.

Katsuki walks his way home on his usual route before he sees the same white van pass by him 3 times now, which stands out in the darkness of the night. He stares it down annoyed by it already before the van stops.

Katsuki takes his hands out of his pockets getting ready to take on whoever the hell is in that van.

Before he could react a guy comes up from behind him pressing a knife slashing against his rib leaving a huge scar of blood across his stomach. “Fuck! Come here, I’ll fucking kill you bitch!”

The man who stabbed him was covered in all black, jumping his way into the van before it drives off in a rush, Katsuki holds his wound with little complaints: to be fair, it isn’t the first time he’s been stabbed.

He walks his way home holding a hand against his stomach, figuring he will fix it up once he gets home with some alcohol and gauze.

Before he could reach his block he starts to feel his vision blur and the world starts spinning, before he hits the ground harshly, bleeding out onto the floor.

and just like that, he’s out.

“Oh my! Don’t worry sir, I’ll call an ambulance right now! They are on their way!” Katsuki heard an elderly woman’s voice say in a panic as he blacked out, barely remaining conscious.

He woke up in the hospital.

He hates hospitals, he hated the sounds of the beeping, he hated the pathetic ass nightgowns, he hated the nurses that think they can fix everything, he hated being taken care of.

It was pathetic, he thought.

He gets up to walk out the room, taking out the shit the doctors have injected in him with no reaction. Before he reaches the door handle a young women opens the door.

You smile at him, “Oh it seems you’re awake Mr. Bakugou, how are you feeling?”, sending him a comforting arm around his waist, directing him back towards his bed with a light expression.

Katsuki doesn’t move your hand, he just sits back down. What drugs did they give him, holy shit.

“Don’t worry, the slash in your rib wasn’t too deep and was an easy stitch, you will only be left with a scar. It seems you were already bleeding and bruised all over your body before you were cut, can you explain what happened last night for me sir?” you look up at him from your stool.

You looked like an angel, he thought maybe he died.

What the hell, why is he thinking these things?

“Got stabbed that’s all, can i get out of here now” He says looking away, deciding your eyes on him we’re making him not think properly.

How long has it been since a woman was nice to him? or looked at him like that? Had a woman ever shown concern for him before?

You let out a soft laugh at his desperation to get out, “Don’t worry, it shouldn’t be long sir, I would just like to hold you here a bit longer to ask you some questions and make sure you heal properly!”

“Okay” He lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, your laugh was mesmerizing. He didn’t know what was wrong with him.

As the days go by, you helped him change his bandages, watched over him, helped him get up, even though the feeling of your touch on his bare chest made him see stars.

In this time he also learned about you, how they were the same age, how you became a doctor because of your mother who was sick and noticed how your coffee was always cold.

On the fourth and final day you were changing his bandages once again, “Mr. Bakugou” You say grabbing his attention.

“You can call me Katsuki, don’t like being called that.” he stated out, he wasn’t in his annoyed state as often when he was with you.

“Okay, Katsuki…May I ask what you do for a living, I know you said you didn’t want to talk about it but you’re bruised and cut everywhere and some look old and others look recent, all look different from one another, I’m concerned.” you say while running your fingers around the bruises and cuts examining them with your eyes.

“Why?” He asks

“Why what?” You ask, confused.

“Why are you concerned?” He was genuinely confused, Why were you so careful and concerned about him? Why did you take care of him like this?

“Because I’m your nurse, Katsuki, it’s my job” you say not thinking of anything of it, you were his nurse. Of course you noticed how beautiful he was, and how you found it cute when he looked down like a kid in trouble when he would slightly raise his tone at you, and maybe you did like his company a bit but you were his nurse, right? you had only know him for a few days, it’s just part of the job, right?

Katsuki looks away.

How could be so stupid.

It was your job, there was no reason behind any of it or feelings, you’re a nurse, he is your patient. Why did he feel so disappointed in your answer? Why was he expecting more from you, what was wrong with him.

You notice the change in expression as you finish wrapping him up,

“Did i say something wrong or accidentally hurt you? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t go prying like that, your business is your business Mr. Bakugou.”

“You are fine, think i’m ready to be let out though.” He says not maintaining eye contact as he puts his shirt on getting ready to leave.

“Oh, I understand. You are already signed for release but I will walk you out!” you offer with a smile hoping to cheer him up.

“I’m good, I’ve got it.” He says while walking out.

And just like that, you were gone.

But you weren’t, not from his mind. For the 3 weeks he would think about you constantly, craving the way you held his waist and body like a fragile piece of glass, missing your sweet laugh and comforting smile, the thought of you lingered inside his mind and soul, leaving him distracted constantly. Which was new for Katsuki.

He got in the ring, yet his mind felt so far away from it. Your face in his head, playing back the few days you spent together, as your patient. He needed to take a few shots before the round, just to get his mind off you.

He didn’t want that to be the last time he felt your warmth and hospitality. He wanted more, he wanted to be embraced in it.

Just like that he sent a striking punch to his opponent, another easy day, although he had some blood on his hands.

He never went to the hospital, he hates hospitals.

He can take care of himself, and it was a small bleeding and the usual fracture and pain of getting hurt out there.

So why did he drive his way to the hospital and specifically request that only you could check to see if his hand was broken?

When he saw your face he immediately felt the warmth in his chests, like a hole had been filled in it. Like it wasn’t empty anymore.

The way your hands felt examining his hands, tracing your fingers all over his big veiny hands.

In which you noticed, you had never noticed his hands before, how much bigger they were than yours or how much taller he was than you that you suddenly started to realize.

Or the way he looked at you like you were an angel sent down just for him.

Suddenly you felt suffocated and trapped by his stare, feelings nervous, why did you feel nervous with a patient?

“Come with me, Mr. Bakugou, I’ll get you examined right away” You say looking into his eyes

He nods and follows you to a room where he sits down and watches you as you examine his hands, not taking his eyes off you, feeling like the world has paused now that he’s with you again.

Like nothing else matters.

Is this what Kirishima was talking about?

Is this the simple life, simple needs, he needed you, but he loved that he needed you? He wanted more, more, more.

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, right?

“did you get bangs?” he asked now noticing the change of appearance, it looked good on her.

You blushed, surprised that he would notice something like that. “I did, im surprised you noticed.” Why did you feel so jittery all of a sudden?

“I like them.” He compliments you.

“Thank you, Mr. Bakugou.” You respond slightly losing composure as your face turns a light red at his compliments.

“Makes you look more mature, it’s sexy” He says without thinking, it was like he couldn’t control his thoughts today.

You wonder if you heard him right, his face showed no expression so you figured you misheard. “What happened to your hand today?” You ask taking advantage of how talkative he is today compared to the last time you talked.

“It’s nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about” He looks down at you, his heart felt heavy, he wanted to kiss you so bad.

He wanted you to take care of him in all the places he needed you.

He wanted you to touch him more, he needed it.

Before thinking he leaned down to press his lips against yours in the dark room.

And you let him. For a few seconds, you wanted to enjoy it, entranced in the moment.

You let his tongue enter your mouth and hold your cheek, letting him enter your mouth before coming back to reality, you were at work. Anyone could walk in.

And then you taste it.

The alcohol on his breath wasn’t something you could ignore.

No.

This was wrong on so many levels, he is your patient. you shouldn’t take advantage on him.

you push him off.

After you allow yourself to catch your breathe and see bakugou wait for you to say something, did he do something wrong?

“I think you should be assigned a new nurse.” you say. “I’ll have nurse jenna come and check you out, I don’t feel this is an appointment thing to do as your nurse.”

“Wait- what? I don’t want a new nurse, I requested you.” He said in slight sadness in his eyes, he had came here for you.

“I am sorry, Mr. Bakugou.” You say walking out.

He had no interest being in this hospital any longer if you weren’t taking care of him, he walked out back to his home.

His home that he lived alone in.

He sat in his bed still a bit tipsy, he fucked everything up didn’t he? He scared you off just because he couldn’t keep his thoughts to himself.

And yet he can’t feel sorry he did it.

He would do it again.

He would do anything to feel your lips against his again, he took the bottle of liquor near his bed and pressed it to his lips.

He wanted to taste you again.

And just like that Katsuki slid a hand down his chest, the same way you would, trying to mimic the way you did.

He let himself do that, not rushing, doing it slowly just how you would. He closes his eyes, imagining it was you.

Before he slides his hand down to his lower stomach, going even slower, hesitating.

This was so wrong.

But it felt so fucking good.

He pressed his palm over his sweatpants, rubbing the bulge in his pants to ease it some.

Before he slowly slid his hands in his pants, the same hands you touched.

He stroked himself over his boxers. feeling the precum already start to leak from him.

He felt so overstimulated.

He just needed you.

Just let him have tonight to think of you this way, it will be the last time, he promises.

…

1 Month Later.

Match after Match.

It was all he could do to get his mind away from you, before it was you taking his mind away from the matches.

One punch after another, he couldn’t stop fighting, He needed to keep fighting.

He found himself becoming even more aggressive, even shutting out Kirishima completely, as Kirishima became more concerned coming closer by the day to retiring.

He also found himself drinking more.

He never really was a drinker, he just wanted to numb the thoughts of you.

“Get me my usual” he demands the bartender as he slides some cash across the table.

“Alright sir, i’m just gonna need some Identification to confirm your over the age of 21.”

“You guys don’t usually ask for that, You’ve known me long enough to know i’m of age, now just get me it, i’m not in the mood” He says growing irritated.

“I’m sorry sir, but our new policy requires us to check everytime.”

“Well I don’t have my ID on me so can’t you just take a rain check or something.” Katsuki says growing even more annoyed by the second.

“I’m afraid I cannot sell you any alcohol until I see some ID, i’m going to need you to leave” The bartender slides him back his cash.

This ticks Katsuki off and he loses it. He randomly punches a guy who was walking in the bar as he starts to head out.

The guy turns towards him in anger, much bigger than katsuki

“What are you looking at big guy, you want a kiss or something, fuck off” He says now yelling.

The guys says to take this outside and little did Katsuki know that the man had a gun on him.

BOW!

one shot barely grazing his skin near the left side of his stomach and the pressure of the bullet sends Katsuki stepping back before the man comes at him with full force, bruising him.

Next thing he knows he’s in a corner of an alley beaten up half to death before he sees a familiar face.

He sees you.

He must have died.

How are you here?

“Katsuki! Is that you? What happened, It’s okay, I’ll take of you now just stay conscious for me please! your badly injured!” You say as you try to keep your composure but tears end up spilling out anyways. You try and pick up his body weight as he slouches against you as you take him to your apartment.

You lay him down on your couch carefully, thankfully he was only grazed so it wasn’t anything too major but he was still beaten up pretty badly.

You take care of him, you both don’t look nor say anything to each other. Before Katsuki stops your movements, placing a soft hand on your wrists.

“I’m so sorry.” he says looking you now in the eye with something you’ve never seen before. Not that angry or annoyed look, he seemed hurt, genuine, desperate.

It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t like you weren’t thinking of him too, it isn’t like you disliked the shared kiss between the two of you. It wasn’t like you weren’t waiting on him, as well.

maybe you needed him just as much as he needed you.

You were so lost in your thoughts you didn’t even realize Bakugou was now crying against your chest softly and quietly, holding onto your waist.

You held him.

Before you could think anymore, you pressed soft kisses against his forehead and ran your hands through his hair.

He looked up with you with teary eyes, “I get so angry constantly, I don’t even mean it, I never think before i do anything, please tell me if i’m doing this wrong. Don’t act accordingly, I don’t want to be your patient.”

“You aren’t my patient, Katsuki. I want you.” you say trying to reassure him as you cup his face, and he gives you a boyish expression as if he’s relieved by your answer.

“Please let me take care of you.” You look down at him desperately wanting to tend to his wounds, his hand is twitching.

Little does she knows it’s because he is nervous, not injured.

he nods and lets you.

You trace your fingers around his hands, this time more carefully, you kiss his fingers after wrapping his hands as he watches, never taking his eyes off you.

You’re kissing the same hands he used to jerk off to you.

He finds himself growing aroused at the thought, you were on top of him, he tried his best to contain his dick and not be such a guy.

Before you could think twice, you looked hard at his fingers before taking two in your mouth, kissing his finger tips as you stare at him.

You knew what it was doing to him.

You felt Katsuki grow under you, he felt big. You could feel him twitch as you took 2 fingers into your mouth, softly sucking.

You slowly begin to grind against the bulge under you as he grabs your hips holding you against him as he struggles not to let his eyes fall to the back of his head.

You begin to crouch over to him getting ready to take his pants off before he stops you.

“No” He says bluntly.

“Wha-“ you didn’t finish your sentence before he flipped you over with no effort, hovering over you now.

“I want to be the one to take care of you now.” He says looking down at your body like it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

He placed a soft peck kiss on your lips, “You’re beautiful, Y/n.” He says softly moaning against the skin of your neck before softly kissing the skin.

You blush under him and look away, he turns your face towards him. “Please don’t look away from me, want to look at your face while i take care of you, angel”

You nod in obedience and open your arms away from your chest to give him room to work his way down.

He kisses the softness of your collar bones, he thinks he’s never been this gentle in his life, it felt so easy being gentle with you, like he didn’t have to hold up his rude boy attitude with you.

He looked up for you to search for any discomfort, making sure you were perfectly comfortable as he did this. He took a hand to your chest and laid a soft firm grab, unbuttoning your shirt.

He leaves your bra on as he places his mouth over the soft plush skin of your breasts, playing with your nipples giving it a gentle twists loving the way your arch against him and let out a small whine when he touches you.

He loved that he was calling you pleasure, not harm.

“Katsuki, I need you.” The way you moaned out his name had him struggling to keep himself calm.

He wanted to hear more of it, just like that.

“i know, baby” He says while taking all your clothes off before removing his own as well.

That night he took care of you, in every way you needed. He wanted to return the favor you gave to him so many times. He would do it over and over again, He felt like a dog, loyal to you in every way.

…

The day of the Fight.

5 months later.

Stain enters the ring confidently as fans cheered loudly ranting on, some even making bets on who would die in the ring tonight.

Katsuki walks out onto the ring, blocking out all noises around him, his mind only on his fiancé (you) at home thinking he was asleep.

God, she would kill me if she found out, he thought to himself.

He hasn’t been in this ring since the day you’ve made love, he decided to completely devote himself to be a better man for you.

He just couldn’t miss this fight, and honestly if he did he probably would’ve been killed for it or worst they would’ve hurt you considering the fact that Stain was most likely the one who sent that man to stab him that day.

“You ready to get your ass beat, kid” Stain said spitting on the ground they walked on.

“Give me all you’ve got, old man”

And like that the match started, blow after blow, both stain and Katsuki going at each others throats, not backing down on anything, fighting for dominance in the ring.

Before Katsuki takes the high ground now finding a weak spot, landing a sharp punch sending a shock to Stain, earning a cocky chuckle from him

“Not bad, kid”

Katsuki takes this chance to come at full power, not giving Stain time to get up or reclaim his place, he knocks him down to the ground.

RIGHT.

LEFT.

He cockily laughs feeling himself getting cocky and drunk over the adrenaline of this before his mind runs back to you, a home to go back to.

He has a home to go back to.

He wants to come home to you, safe and sound, he doesn’t want you to cry or see him hurt, He wanted to be the one to take care of you.

Stain took Katsukis distraction to his advantage before pinning him to the ground harshly, making Katsuki groan. That’s gonna leave a bruise on his back.

Stain gets up and hangs on the ring.

No more.

He hears your voice, your sweet gentle voice.

Enough.

Katsuki could have easily gotten up. He easily could have dodged Stain. He easily could have beat him, claiming the title of number one.

BANG.

Stain jumped on top of Katsuki’s body landing a finishing fist on Katsuki’s chest before it hits the ground next to him, almost grazing him.

He missed.

He missed?

Why didn’t he hit him?

“What the hell” Katsuki yells out in confusion.

“I’m not gonna kill ya, kid. Your friend over there saved your ass, You both got something to go home to, don’t die here.”

Kirishima.

That little bastard saved his ass.

And just like that the match was over, Katsuki let Stain win.

This would be Katsuki’s last match.

Stain was right.

He had something to go home to, a beautiful woman who cared about him and that he was crazy about. He had a life ahead of him.

No title is worth more than that.

You were his home.

…

.

.

.

A/N. Apologies for the rushed and corny ending lowkey 😭 I have my mind set on a gojo fic at the moment that i am trying to work up the courage to write so i’ve been preoccupied, reblogs and notes are appreciated !! This isn’t proof read so srry if there’s any mistakes

[nobodysdaydreams]

My toxic trait is that I think if Elphaba, Galinda, Fiyero, Nessarose and Boq had all gone to the Emerald City together as friend group, they totally would have been able to stop the Wizard and Morrible. Wouldn’t have even been a challenge.

Galinda, Nessarose, and Boq might have been hesitant or afraid to openly challenge the Wizard, but as soon as Elphaba objected and the Wizard and Morrible made their little threats, Fiyero would for sure throw a punch in the Wizard’s direction, at which point the battle is on and the group is running through the Wizard’s castle being chased by flying monkeys like they’re the Scooby Doo gang. Fiyero swinging around on those hot air balloon ropes knocking guards left and right, Boq panicking and accidentally doing some looney tunes style stunt that saves Nessrose, and they all escape on the balloon to Kiamo Ko with the Wizard as a hostage, because Fiyero would for sure drag that pathetic mess on board, tied up and everything to make sure they can escape.

And Morrible wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it because you know that the second Nessa calls her dad to complain, the governor is going to come rolling up to the Emerald City in his ridiculous top hat yelling in Morrible’s face demanding to know “what kind of school she thinks she’s representing here?” and talking about how he wasn’t made aware of this unauthorized balloon field trip, and panicking about Nessa falling out of the sky. Now Morrible has to deal with him, and she can’t pull the “a wicked green witch kidnapped our Wizard and his spellbook” this time, because is she really gonna say the witch was either helped by or succeeding in kidnapping (in addition to the Wizard) a famous prince, the daughter of wealthy upper class, the beloved and favorite daughter of an esteemed governor, and another random student all on her watch? There are only so many people you can throw under the bus before the story is too crazy to be believed, plus now you have all those angry parents demanding explanations. So now Morrible has got to tell everyone some bs story about an “unfortunate ballooning accident, which she is sure the Wizard will rectify in no time” while she figures out her next move.

Meanwhile, at Kiamo Ko, the kids have the Wizard tied up and he’s trying to reason with them but they aren’t having it, and since this is an integration, it eventually comes out that he’s Elphaba’s deadbeat dad. He gets emotional and tries to spin it as a tragic star crossed lovers story rather than a one night stand and Nessa’s not having it because if you found out your parent cheated with a villainous dictator who tried to kill their own child who is also your half-sister and then said dictator has the nerve to try to spin it into a story where you’re supposed to feel sad for them because they “couldn’t be with the woman they loved” (because she was married to your father) and “never knew their child” (because they left knowing full while their actions could have created your sibling) you’d be mad too. And Elphaba is also angry because who would want to be related to someone willing to oppress people for power? Pathetic.

But Boq stops Nessa from angrily doing anything crazy to the Wizard because after he saved Nessa from some flying monkeys, he realized that he loves her and that Galinda doesn’t like him and he has to respect that, and now that the gang has had time to talk, Galinda also realizes Fiyero obviously loves Elphaba and decides to be happy for them, because they all take one look at the Wizard’s fake overdramatic crying for a woman he had a one night stand with who was never gonna leave her husband for him anyway who he never even called again anyway so why is he crying now, and they say “let’s not over complicate our love lives and be mature about our feelings.” Good decision on their part.

Meanwhile, the Wizard tries to start singing about his regrets and offers them all a chance to rule with him if only they’ll untie him, but no one is having it and they send him and Morrible to jail and make Elphaba the new Wizard because she’s the one with the actual power. She can visit her father in prison, and he can do his silly little puppet/figurine shows and song/dance numbers for her then. If he has good behavior, maybe Elphaba can make him her court jester because goodness knows all the Wizard is good for is being a clown. Morrible stays in jail, no parole. Then you’ve Elphaba ruling the Emerald City, Fiyero ruling Winkie Country, Galinda being an elite socialite in Gilkin Country or wherever she’s from and Nessa ruling Munchkin Land with Boq at her side, willingly this time. The whole friend group is running Oz and making it better. The end.

[haetrack]

no clue (l.mk)

mark lee x fem!reader

wc: 11.6k

summary: mark realizes how long it’s been since he’s gotten laid, immediately heading to a party. he’s quick to find you, rushing into a room without really thinking about it. except now, he can’t stop thinking about you. how bad is it really if he ends up falling in love with his one night stand?

warnings: strangers to lovers, smut (MDNI), fluff, mild angst, one night stand, miscommunication and communication, reader is cautious, oral (both receiving), missionary, desperation, dirty talk, dry humping, softdom!mark, sub!reader

heavily inspired by tongues - the frights

part two to the how it all goes series!

mark doesn’t think he’s a person who acts on instinct.

he believes he at least has some self control. he won’t go out if he knows he has work to finish, knows his limits, and has pretty good time management if you ask him. he can control himself whenever he needs to, but he has his off days. everyone does.

which is why he can’t really explain how he ended up between your thighs.

he can hear the squelch of his fingers in your cunt, his mouth wrapped around your clit as he moans into you. your hands are threaded into his hair, moaning out his name, still unfamiliar on your tongue. he’s never really jumped into something like this before, but he can’t say he doesn’t like it. he really can’t, thoughts filled with only how good you taste.

he can feel how your thighs shake around him, trying to close shut when his fingers reach your sweet spot. he pries your legs apart, moving his mouth away from you to whine out, “need you to stop moving so much, wanna keep tasting you.”

he makes eye contact with you as he licks a stripe up your cunt, watching how your eyes flutter shut at the feeling. out of the people that mark’s been with, he thinks that you might be the sweetest person he’s tasted. he wouldn’t mind being in between your thighs, wouldn’t mind hearing all your pretty moans.

your hands make it to his hair, threading through the strands as he eats you out. you tug on it when something feels particularly good. he grunts against you, mouth sucking on your clit as the stinging pain makes his blood pump a little faster. all that he can hear are the lewd sounds of your cunt, the moans of his name, and his own breathing. “m-mark, i’m close. please don’t stop, you’re doing so good.”

he can’t slow down now, adding a third finger as he licks at your clit. he watches as your back arches, suddenly too aware of his dick straining against his pants. he tugs you close to his face, “need you to cum. want you to cum all over me so i can fuck your pretty pussy.”

he watches you nod, your hips rolling to meet his face as you moan out his name, hands gripping onto his hair as you cum. he hears himself let out an embarrassing moan, affected by your sounds and taste. he doesn’t stop his ministrations, helping you ride out your orgasm.

if he could, he’d spend all day here, licking up your cum as you cry out his name. with a tired laugh, you push his head away, almost enjoying the sad look on his face. your hand moves to cup the side of his face, “you did so good, mark. you want me to help you?”

his eyes widen a little, almost as if he wasn’t expecting anything to happen. you sit up, hands moving to unbutton and unzip his pants. his hands hover over yours, shaking as he watches you. “y-you’ll… you’ll suck me off?”

you pull his pants down to his thigh, “well, you did say earlier that you wanted to fuck me so… would you like to fuck me?”

he blinks at you, “really?”

“of course,” you laugh, “i know how bad you want to, and i know i want it, too. probably even more than you.”

you watch him scramble off the bed, taking off his pants as quickly as possible. he leaves his boxers on, making it back between the space between your thighs. you watch him slowly take his boxers on, watch how his cock slaps against his stomach. he’s leaking, and you wonder how exactly he’s held back for so long.

he strokes his length a few times, enjoying how you squirm around in impatience. he thinks you look cute like this, the thought dancing around in his head. he can’t keep himself away from you for too long, shifting closer to you. he rubs his length across your slit, letting your slick coat his cock.

your breath hitches when his tip hits your clit, mark leaning down to kiss you. you can taste yourself on his tongue, and you can feel how his hips continue to grind against your cunt. you can only take so much before you start begging, “mark, please. need you to fuck me already, need to feel you inside me already.”

he likes how pretty your voice sounds begging for him. it pushes him over the edge, moving to line himself at your entrance. he can feel how wet you are, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. he lets out a low groan as he pushes in, your tight walls taking all his thoughts away.

it’s been too long for him, fighting against himself as he goes as slowly as he can. he’s patient, even as your nails dig into his back. you’re letting out small whimpers, getting used to the stretch his cock offers you. he waits for you to get used to the feeling, even if his cock is twitching inside you.

when you tell him he can move, he experimentally thrusts against you. you feel too good, and he’s not sure how long he can last, especially with how long it’s been for him. at your whines, he tries setting a steady rhythm for you. his hips only stutter a bit when you clench around him, his eyes fluttering close.

you throw your head back when mark hits your sweet spot, and mark needs to hear all the pretty sounds you just made again. he grinds his hips as close as he can, eyes threatening to shut at how deep he feels inside you. his eyes watch where you two are connected, a thumb moving to your neglected clit.

one of your hands moves to grope at your own boob, rolling a nipple in between your fingers. mark needs to help you, he decides, quickly swatting your hand away as he moves his face to the valley of your chest. he takes a nipple into his mouth, hand rubbing over your other boob.

he’s all over you, every part of his body moving to make you cum. you lay there, practically sobbing at how good he’s making you feel. “keep going, mark! please don’t stop, need you so bad!”

your words make him dizzy, thrusts slowing to grind into you. he can feel how your slick has coated his thighs, how messy this all is. he doesn’t care, not when he gets to see you like this under him. you’re crying out for him, tears pricking at your eyes from how good he’s making you feel. he wouldn’t mind getting to see this everyday.

the thought quickly leaves him when you tell him you’re about to cum. your nails scrape along his back, surely leaving marks for him to see tomorrow. you’re clenching around him tightly, his hips fighting to keep moving. most importantly, you’re calling out his name so sweetly, almost as if he’s the only thing you can think of.

“y-yeah, you’re gonna cum all over my cock?” he stutters, “gonna make a mess all over me?”

“yes, please, mark, please keep going!”

it doesn’t take long for you to cum. he’s doing everything right, hitting every spot he could reach. you let go, a loud whimper leaving you as you roll your hips against him. he’s gripping onto your thighs, leaving bruises against your skin. you’re happy that you said yes to him, happy that you could have probably one of the best orgasms of your life.

mark cums soon after you, the image of you too much for him to handle. he groans out a fuck, enjoying the warmth of your pussy before pulling out. he jerks himself off quickly, noting how your bleary eyes watch him. he cums all over your pussy, watches how it drips down near your clenching hole.

he’s breathing heavily at the sight, hears your tired cry as you lay against the pillow of the bed. he’s not sure if he should go get something to clean you up or if he should just stay here with you. he’s sure he doesn’t want to leave just yet, enjoying the look of you so fucked out because of him.

not because he thinks you look pretty, even more so like this.

his thoughts are cut off by the way you call his name. there’s a smile on your face, and despite being tired, you tug at his arm to bring him down by you. he faces you, a pretty blush on his face. he never really knows how to end these kinds of things, not that he really has experience to think about.

it doesn’t feel awkward, but mark can’t stop thinking of too many things at once. he can’t just leave you like this, but wouldn’t it be weird to sleep next to you? you aren’t exactly a stranger, but he can’t call you a friend, or even an acquaintance. he barely knows you, knows your name and maybe one class you're taking. his mind itches to know more.

your hand brushes the stray hairs out of his face, and he realizes how much he likes the feeling. your hand twitches at your side, slowly reaching out to him to make him wrap an arm around your waist. it’s quiet when this happens, mark trying to decide whether he should say something or not.

you beat him to it, “you did so good. i’m glad i got to do this with you, mark.”

he’s silent for a few seconds, fingers moving up and down at your side, “i’m happy, too- i mean, like, doing this with you.”

you hum out, letting the conversation fade out as you snuggle into the sheets. you don’t mind that his arm is still wrapped around you as you try to sleep. you try not to pay attention to the satisfied sigh he lets out once he settles into the sheets. you’re not sure if you’ll see him again, and even if you do, you know you probably won’t be talking to him.

either way, you’ll be gone by the morning.

mark can recall everything he did last night once he wakes up. it all flashes in his head before he’s fully conscious. 

he remembers walking up to you, probably too confident as he flirts with you. he remembers your smiling face as you lead him into an empty room, locking the door behind you as he presses you against the wall. he remembers how soft your lips were against his, how sweet you tasted, and how nice you felt wrapped around him.

most importantly, he remembers how good it felt to sleep next to you, how nice it felt to have you wrapped in his arms. but now, as he fights off sleep, he sees you’re not there next to him. he shouldn’t be surprised, it was only supposed to be a one time thing. but he can’t help how cold it feels in this bed that isn’t even his.

for just last night, this room was something that was shared between the two of you. now, it’s just a random room that he woke up alone in. well, he shouldn’t be too alone here knowing haechan is probably crashed out at this now quiet frat house. he gathers his clothes that are scattered across the room, slipping them back on.

they feel different now, suddenly too dressy for the morning. the door's unlocked when he gets to it, quietly opening it as he peers out into the hallway. there’s no one there, mark tiptoeing down the stairs as he looks around for haechan. as expected, he’s sleeping almost too peacefully on a stranger's couch. there’s other people there too, but mark can’t help but laugh at the sight of his friend.

he doesn’t bother being gentle with haechan, quickly shaking his shoulder to wake him up. haechan groans, and mark contemplates if he should just throw water on him. as if haechan could hear his thoughts, he shoots straight up, gasping for air like he just got revived from being dead. he looks at mark with wide eyes, practically gasping for air.

“are you alright, dude?”

“i’m… fine? i had the craziest nightmare that i was about to go down a waterfall.”

“how is that even-” mark just sighs, deciding not to question him, “let’s go already. let’s leave these poor people alone.”

haechan stumbles a bit when he gets up, dramatically letting himself cling onto mark’s shoulders. they walk about the house as if nothing happened, as if mark didn’t meet you in there. he drags out haechan, noticing how he’s staying surprisingly silent. mark doesn’t mind walking back to campus, not minding how pretty the blue sky above him looks.

suddenly, haechan says, “are you hungry?”

mark mulls on it before speaking, “i guess i could eat. you won’t get, like, sick or anything?”

“no,” haechan hums, “i’m actually feeling pretty good right now. i do wanna ask how you feel.” haechan raises his eyebrows suggestively at mark, causing mark to pull away from haechan, almost letting him fall to the ground.

“you are so weird.”

haechan laughs at that, “you’re acting like you won’t tell me all about it once we start eating.”

mark doesn’t deny it, trying to change the subject, “you’re paying, right?”

“no way! i took you to that party, you owe me!”

mark ends up begrudgingly paying for both their meals. he probably would’ve paid either way, he thinks as he watches haechan gulf down his food. mark is slower, taking a few bites as he picks at his food. he can’t stop thinking about what you might be doing, can’t stop thinking about the fact that you’re still lingering in his mind.

without realizing, mark asks, “how bad is it if i’m still thinking about who i slept with last night?”

haechan looks up at him, his cheeks full with food. he takes his time to contemplate mark's words, chewing slowly on his food before speaking. he clears his throat, “well, what exactly are you thinking about? like, sexually, or…” he whispers at the end of his sentence, “romantically?”

mark feels embarrassed when he realizes it’s both. he could just lie and say it was the first option, but he can’t bring himself to. 

haechan doesn’t need to hear mark say his answer when he can see mark become more and more red. he knows mark is more of a relationship kind of guy, but really? he points his fork at mark, and in the nicest way possible, he questions him, “well, how much do you know about her?”

mark has to think about his answer. he’s never really seen you on campus or at any of the parties he’s been to. he knows your name… and how you look. turns out he doesn’t really know too much about you, but it feels more than that to mark. mark huffs out an answer, “not a lot, actually. but i do want to get to know her more! i feel like, like we really could’ve hit it off if it were any other time…”

“are you sure you’re not in love with her pussy or something?”

mark quickly shushes haechan, “why would you say that out loud where anyone could hear us?”

haechan brushes off his words, “it’s just… what if that was supposed to be the only time that you guys were meant to be together. you can’t just force someone to talk to you.”

“but-”

“nope. one, you don’t know her that well. two, if you do ever talk to her, given if she even wants to talk to you, what are you gonna say?”

“you know,” mark starts, really trying to come up with anything, “ask how she’s been?”

haechan threatens to throw his crumbled napkin at mark.

mark stares at his half eaten plate, not really knowing what else to say. he’s never seen you before, and last night was quite literally the first time he’s ever seen you. he’s not sure how he hasn’t before, not when you were so easy to pick out of a room full of people. maybe haechan is right, if he really wanted to know you, he should’ve already tried before.

he'll convince himself it was just a one time thing.

when mark came up to you at the party, it was the second time you had ever seen him.

he still looked the same as how he did when you first saw him during your freshman year. he still looks a bit boyish, but somehow obviously more grown up. you saw him slowly walk up to you after apparently getting a pep talk from a friend. you had quickly pieced together who the two were, and how exactly you remembered them.

it was one of your first weeks of college. you were hanging out with a friend, quietly talking outside the room that your class was about to be held in. you didn’t want to be late, but you also didn’t want to be the first person walking in there. that was embarrassing, but it was also embarrassing just standing out here like you wouldn’t be entering in a few minutes.

you and your friend were sharing hushed whispers to one another, probably talking about an upcoming assignment you really didn’t want to do. you watch your friend pull out her phone to mindlessly scroll before class starts. you were about to do the same when you heard loud voices quickly pass through the hall.

the voices are too loud for the quiet hall, cringing lightly before you hear thundering footsteps coming your way. in a flash, you see a guy dragging another guy down the hall with him. you hear stop pulling so hard! and a hurry up! as they pass by you. you make eye contact with the one being dragged, his eyes looking apologetic for how loud they’re being.

as soon as they arrive, they’re fast to go. you hear your friend laugh next to you while you just shake your head in disapproval. you click your tongue before talking, “we’re in college and there’s men still acting like children.”

she giggles at your words, “i think they might just be like that.”

“do you know them?”

“not really, no. i just know their names. the guy who was doing the dragging is always loud like that. i guess the other guy gets caught up in it.”

you nod at her words. you hear the elevator doors open and you wonder if the two entered in together, praying the ride would be fast to whatever event they were late to. you let out a sigh, “the one being dragged looked at me like he was sorry.”

when she laughs, she bumps into your side, “i think his name is mark. i’m pretty sure they’re roommates.”

with a frown, you add, “i hope they’re late to wherever they’re going,” your friend laughs at this, “people are starting to get in class, let’s go.”

now, the second time you meet mark, it feels like you’re being properly introduced. he comes up to you, only slightly faltering when you look at him with a smile on your face. you wonder if he remembers you all those years ago, wonders if he remembers feeling sorry for you. he probably doesn’t with the way he tries flirting with you.

it’s not like you don’t expect it, knowing he had to go through a whole pep talk before this, but you still feel surprised. he doesn’t look like someone who would be this forward, but you can’t say you didn’t like it.

he asks for your name (proving he really doesn’t know you), and asks how the party is going for you. cocking your head slightly, you answer his questions, noticing how his eyes dart down to your lips occasionally. it doesn’t take long for you both to head up to a room together, full of giggles and laughs.

you didn’t realize how much you would be into this, into him. he was desperate, hands all over you as he groaned into your mouth. you thought you would have to beg him to eat you out, but he was the one practically whining out to have a taste of you. it’s even better once he starts fucking you, taking care of every single need of yours before his own.

it’s over faster than you want it to be. he looks a little panicked afterwards, confused on what exactly he should do. you wonder how often he does this, if he even does this at all. you brush it off by asking him to come lay down by you. he presumably pushes all his worries away to lay behind you, arm tentatively wrapping around your side.

you wonder if you pushed it too far by asking him to sleep with you like this. you both could’ve left the room together, parted ways for the night, and probably never see each other again. it makes you think if this was all he wanted with you. sex. it’s not that you were hoping for more, but mark seems like a nice guy.

you have a quick conversation, thanking him for tonight. it feels too formal, almost as if you were ending a date. this is mark, someone you don’t know well and have never talked to. you don’t know why you push the hairs out of his face or why you let him wrap his arm around you. you should keep distance between you two, but you don’t.

it’s hard to explain what you really want right now, but all you can do is fall asleep in his hold.

you wake up earlier than mark, watching his chest rise and fall.

you find yourself cuddled into his side, using his arm like a pillow. you get up quietly to not disturb him, picking up your clothes from the night before. you hate staying at a random person’s place, but what else can you do in a situation like this. you find your phone, looking at your friends messages saying how she’s back at your shared apartment.

you send her a quick text that you’re heading back soon. you wonder what she’d say about all this, wonder if she remembers your encounter with mark from all those years ago. you take one last look at mark, sleeping peacefully on the bed, unknowing that you’re about to leave him there by himself.

you ponder on leaving your phone number for a few moments. nothing bad could come from it, but you don’t know if he would even want to see you after this. you bite your lip as you unlock the door, slipping out into the quiet frat house. you spot his friend passed out on a couch, a few others sleeping on the floor or other seats.

you debate on walking back to your apartment, but you’re sore everywhere. you mentally curse out mark as you try to find an uber, wincing when you look at the prices. you try to convince yourself that it's better than walking, better than waiting for the bus, and better than having to hear everyone else talk. 

once your ride arrives, you're quick to hop in. it’s quiet for the most part, the radio playing a song you’re not too familiar with. you mull over every decision you've made within the past twelve hours, and as much as you want to regret every single one, you can’t. it was a good night, you met a good person, and you got good sex out of it. what’s there to complain about?

you can’t help but wonder how mark feels.

a few days pass, nothing really exciting happens.

you have class, you go to your job, and with the free time you have, you study or hangout with your friends. today’s a day where you've been out for a while, your friends dragging you out of your apartment and away from all the stress of a job and studying. even though you complain, they’re quick to see the smile on your face once you’re actually out. 

there’s few times where you hang out at the campus. after your freshman year, you stayed close to the areas around your apartment. the campus felt too far and suddenly felt like it was only there for business. but your friends insist on eating on the quad. it’s a nice day, and you can’t really say no to eating outside with warm weather and friends around you.

you don’t know what possesses you to look over your shoulder, but you do. you regret it immediately, noticing mark walking down a sidewalk to wherever he’s going. you’re not sure why you stare for so long, it’s not like you want to know where he’s going or who he could be meeting with. he does look nice when he’s dressed casually, though.

you realize you might’ve stared for too long once you see him turn back at you. it’s quick, but he does a double take, realizing it’s you that’s staring at him. you quickly whip your head back to your friends, internally panicking on what you should do. you have about twenty seconds to decide if he does come over.

this would be your first time seeing mark after the party, probably your second time seeing mark on campus at all. does he even want to say hi? and what will your friends think? they’ll wonder why you’re trying so hard to ignore the man that is currently walking towards you. you don’t really want to talk about it just yet.

you realize you might have to when you hear mark call out your name. you take a deep breath, slowly turning around to give him a small wave. you can feel the gazes of your friends fall onto you without even having to look at them. there’s a soft smile on his face, hands wrapping around his backpack straps as he gets closer.

“uh, hey, how are you?” he asks a little awkwardly

“i’m doing fine? how are you?” you can hear your friends whisper behind you as you feel the back of your neck go hot.

“i’ve doing fine, i’ve just… been thinking about you. you kinda just, like, left that morning.”

you sigh, fingers moving to play with the grass under you. is he really thinking about that night? does he expect you to want to do it again? you shrug, “yeah, i didn’t really know what else to do. i didn’t want to stay there all by myself.”

“oh, sorry. i could’ve… walked out with you- i mean, if you had asked.”

“no, it’s okay. i know your friend was still there.”

he nods, “yeah, i know. but, um, if you’re not busy soon, then can we hang out? just us two?”

you’re a little shocked that he can just ask that so casually. it’s like you’ve both been friends for so long, as if it was always normal for him to ask the girls he meets up with to hang out. in another world, you would probably say yes to him, but you can’t think of a good reason to tell him yes. “mark,” you start, “i’ll be busy this whole week so… i’m not sure if i’ll be able to.”

he takes a few moments to take in your words. he stares at you before finally staring at the floor. he nods slowly, offering you an apologetic smile before speaking, “that’s fine, i just wanted to see-” he takes a breath, “wanted to see what you would say.”

you let out a small sorry, and he takes it as a sign that it’s time for him to go. he takes a few steps back, watching as you give him an apologetic look. “i’ll, uh, maybe see you again? soon? i mean, like, if you ever want to.”

you feel a little awkward as you try to avoid any more eye contact with him. “yeah. i’ll see you, mark.”

he takes a few more steps back before fully turning around. you look at him out of the corner of your eye, watching as he spares you a few more glances. he looks a little disappointed, but he doesn’t try to force you into what you don’t want to do. that’s a good thing about him, you think.

you let out a heavy exhale, now fully facing your friends. when you notice the silence among the group, you look up. everyone is staring at you with smiles on their faces, their faces practically begging for you to say something. you bite back a laugh as you try to ignore it, but one of them speaks up, “what even was that?”

you huff, “just… someone i met the other night.”

if you ever meet mark lee again after this, you might just have to curse him out for having to awkwardly explain to your friends what just happened.

it’s another day when you're back on campus.

there’s no friends this time around, no way for you to relax. you have a class today, getting upset with your past-self for thinking you could wake up this early for a class. you usually try to grab a quick snack beforehand to keep yourself awake. you make your way to your campus’s coffee shop. it might be 50/50 on whether it’s good or not, but it’s closer than anything else.

you think you deserve a sweet treat, a chocolate muffin that would probably cure every single thing that’s happened to you these past weeks (that also somehow all lead back to mark lee). you don’t really expect anything but a long line of other students waiting to order, but there you see the man himself, mark lee, sitting at a bench. 

you’ve learned your lesson from last time, quickly moving out of his sight and choosing not to stare at him. you make your way to the line, trying hard to ignore him. your eyes subconsciously move to look at the side of his face. he’s wearing glasses, hanging low on his nose as he scrolls through his phone.

you wonder if he’s waiting for his friend or if he’s just waiting for his class to start. there’s an impulse to walk over to him and make conversation, smiling as you ask about his morning. you’d be willing to be a bit late to your class if it meant to talk to him more. you’re just not sure he’d feel the same way.

you watch as he looks up from his phone, rolling his head around to stretch. before he can catch you staring you look away, straight ahead to the menu in front of you. you have to wonder if you’re making this hard for yourself on purpose. you don’t have to think about him so much, especially if he might not even be thinking about you.

well, he’s thinking about you, but probably not in the way you’re thinking about him. it makes you sad, you could’ve at least been friends with him. even now, as you stare at him a few feet away, you could easily eat your snack with him. you could laugh at how nervous he gets, could get him to warm up to you as he gets more comfortable.

but you don’t.

you pay for your muffin, wait for it to be handed to you, and take a whole separate route to your class. before you walk out of the building, you take one last look at him, watching how he stares off into the distance. you don’t want him to see you, quickly walking off away from him.

what you miss is mark staring at you as you walk away. there’s a small smile on his face, seeing you rush off. he doesn’t care that this is the second time he’s seen you, doesn’t care that you don’t even notice him. he likes seeing you like this, so different than how you presented yourself at the party, not that it’s a bad thing.

he wishes that he could go up and talk to you, but he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. when he walked back to his apartment after the day he saw you with your friends, he decided that you probably weren’t interested. as much as he wants to talk to you, it’s better to give you your space. he just wishes he never ruined his chances with you.

he checks the time on his phone, wondering how haechan could be so late. before he can pull up his messages with haechan, he shows up. there’s a lazy smile on his face as he walks down the hall. mark rolls his eyes as haechan gets closer. haechan only chuckles, slugging an arm around mark’s shoulder. mark is quick to take it off, earning a quick whine from haechan.

wordlessly, they start moving to their shared class. mark doesn’t bother to ask haechan how he’s doing, clearly having a nice morning if he decided to show up so late. haechan laughs when he sees mark so annoyed, patting his shoulder before he speaks, “i have good news, you’ll never guess who i saw.”

mark hums disinterestedly, knowing it was probably someone he saw doing something crazy at a party.

“i saw your girl walking by just now.”

mark's head snaps towards his friend, haechan laughing at how wide mark’s eyes are. haechan picks up his pace, “that’s not even the best part. i said hi. and she knew who i was.”

mark furrows his eyebrows, “why would you do that? did she… did she say anything else?”

“i just asked if she had any plans, but she just shrugged and said she was probably gonna go out this weekend with her friends.”

mark smacks his lips as they near their building. he pushes the door open, air slapping against his face as they step in. he lets out an exasperated sound, “well, do you know, like, where she’s going?”

haechan coos at mark, “you’re so sweet, such a sweet boy. she didn’t say, but that doesn’t mean we can’t try to find out, right?”

mark is deep in thought. if he did find you, and that’s if he really tried, would you even want to talk to him? he’s not sure if you want that kind of thing with him, but he wonders if he can still try. if you brush him off, then he realizes that’s probably it. he could respect your opinion, as long as you tell him what you want.

before they enter their class, mark stares at haechan, “right, there’s no harm in trying.”

mark feels nervous tonight.

it doesn’t feel like the last time he went to a party, more confident and driven. now, he has a goal in his mind: to find you. he thinks it’s funny how nervous he’s being, it’s not even guaranteed that he’d see you again, not guaranteed that you would want to talk to him. if it doesn’t end up working out, he’ll just use tonight as a de-stressor, forcing all thoughts of you away.

haechan helps get his mind off of things on the way there. he doesn’t bring you up, chooses to talk about other mundane stuff. it would help more if mark didn’t know that haechan was just trying to distract him. it does make him realize how good of a friend he’s been through all of this.

when they get close to the place, haechan has to stop himself from laughing at how nervous mark looks, “you know she might not even be in there, right? it’s literally a saturday night, she could be anywhere.”

mark lets out the breath he’s been holding, “yeah, i guess.”

“do whatever you want tonight,” haechan huffs, “this is about you.”

with that, they enter the house. it’s a lot smaller than the frat, people all around mark as he enters. mark tries to scan the room, but can’t quite seem to catch you. you’re easy to spot, so that tells mark that you might not be here. before he can think about it more, haechan drags him off so he can get a drink.

haechan offers him some, but mark declines. if he does see you, he doesn’t want to mess it up by being potentially drunk. he tries to look around the room again from this angle, but he still can’t find you. it was bound to happen.

he’s about to give up when he notices a group of people move out of their spot, and there you are.

he knows you're there talking to a friend, but he can only see you. you remind him of how he first met you at the other party. he wants to walk over, wants to say hi, wants to talk to you. he forgets that haechan is there, beginning to take a few steps towards you.

he’s quickly stopped by haechan tugging on his arm, a certain look on his face, “are you really doing this?”

“i need to talk to her. even if she tells me to go away, i just- i need to hear it from her.”

haechan lets go of his arm, realizing that this is something that mark is serious about. “i don’t want to stop you. i’ll be here if you end up getting heartbroken,” haechan jokes.

mark just smiles, nodding before he walks away from him. he stops his hands from shaking as he gets closer. you’re turned away from him, and he doesn’t really know what else to do than tap your shoulder. you jump a little before turning around, your eyes wide as you realize it’s mark. he can’t help but notice your eyes soften a little when you see it’s just him.

“hey, uh, i didn’t expect to see you here.” he says to you. 

a faint smile forms on your face, “i can’t say i’m too surprised to see you.”

he lets out an embarrassed laugh, smiling to himself when he sees you laugh too. looking behind you, he sees your friend smiling at the two of you. you turn back to your friend, a wordless exchange happening in front of mark.

your friend puts her hands up in defeat, looking at mark with a wry smile, “i just got a text from our friend saying she needs help. i guess i have to leave you two alone now!”

mark gives your friend a wave as she says bye to the both of you. she rushes off to another part of the house, mark not missing the mischievous look on her face. now that it’s the two of you alone, shy and awkward smiles exchanged between the two of you. no one really knows what to say or how to start. 

“how have you been-”

“it’s been a while-”

you both talk over each other. you stare at each other with wide eyes, quickly laughing to yourselves. mark thinks he should be embarrassed by this, but he takes in how pretty you look while you laugh. he would embarrass himself for hours if it meant to see you smile.

the laughs subside and mark tries to quickly come up with something to say. there’s so many people around, the music is too loud, and you feel far from him. before he can say anything, you beat it to him, “do you wanna go somewhere more quiet?”

he can’t help but hear the subtle undertone of your words, a double meaning hidden behind them. he nods slowly, watching you grab his arm, just like the other night. he gets dragged through the crowd, weaving through all the people, his eyes remain on your back. your touch is warm, and mark likes having your hand on him. 

there’s not a lot of options for a “quiet place” in the house. most of the rooms are locked, and the ones that are open have people openly having sex with an unlocked door. mark grimaces at the sight while you laugh at his face. you opt for a restroom, tilting your head at mark, asking if he’s okay with it. he walks in before you, scanning the room and letting you in.

he watches you lock the door, hopping onto the sink counter as you stare at him. he wants to talk to you, he really does, but you staring at his lips makes it quite hard for him. he takes a step closer to you, your hands wrapping around his neck, pulling him flush against the counter. you’re so close to him, and he can feel his heart racing as he recalls his last meeting with you.

he licks his lips, his cheeks hot, eyes wandering all across your face. you chuckle at him, smiling as you say, “can i kiss you, mark?”

he doesn’t even answer you, pressing his lips against yours without hesitation. as much as he wanted to hold back, he seems to lose all control when it comes to you. he can’t pretend like you didn’t come out in his dreams every single night while also consuming his thoughts in the day. his hands hold your cheeks, almost checking if you’re really there with him.

the kisses are slow, getting used to each other once more. one if his hands slides down to your waist, squeezing at the skin. his tongue licks at your bottom lip, relishing in the small moan you let out. he licks into your mouth, his hand sliding under your shirt. you press your hips close to his, feeling how he’s growing hard in his pants just from kissing.

you can’t help but let your hips roll against his, slow and teasing as he lets out a low groan into your mouth. you’re just as needy as he is, always admiring him from afar now that you see him more on campus. it’s weird how the universe works, bringing him to you when all you wanted to do was try to ignore him.

you can feel yourself getting wet, mark grinding into you as he lets out soft pants into your mouth. you take it all in, finally getting what you wanted. you could try to get rid of all the thoughts that you have about him, but it’s hard when he’s… mark lee.

you’re becoming more needy, embarrassingly so. mark looks the same, his cheeks pink as he lets out soft grunts of your name. when you start kissing down his jawline, he suddenly pulls his upper half away from you. shock paints your face, and he’s quick to explain himself, “i just- i wanted to, uh-”

“can you cum like this? it’s okay if you do, mark. i think it’s cute.”

he whines out, “no! well, yeah, i can, but i wanted to-”

“really, mark. don’t worry, i’ll let you eat me out afterwards.”

he’s quickly losing the battle, his mouth slowly inching towards you again. his hips buck up at the mention of getting to eat you out, memories of your taste on his tongue playing in his mind. he almost gives up, but he’s determined. he slowly peels himself from you, hooded eyes and a flushed face looking straight at you.

“i, uh, i wanted to talk. i mean, like, talk about… i guess, us?”

you catch your breath, squeezing your legs together as you try to calm yourself down, “is there an us? we’ve only met up once, and it was for sex.”

“that’s true, but i…” he trails off a bit, putting his words together, “i want to talk to you more. i want to get to know you, because i really liked being with you the other time.”

you try to hold back any butterflies from forming at his words. as much as you want to give in, you have to be careful, “but wasn’t it just sex? i thought that’s all you wanted from me.”

his hand moves to your thigh, his thumb smoothing over your skin, “that’s true, but i didn’t expect to like it- like you so much. and i don’t expect you to think the same thing, but i just… had to tell you.”

you choose to stare at his hand on your thigh instead of his face. it’s easier to avoid how his eyes shine thinking about his feelings for you. it’s not like it wasn’t obvious, especially after your friends saw him the other day. you bite the inside of your cheek, “you like me? even though you don’t know me, even if we’ve met only once?”

“that’s why i want to get to know you. i want to know what you like and dislike. i want to know what your favorite songs are, want to know what you do when you’re free. i want to be there to learn it all.”

his words feel heavy, and you can feel your own feelings bubbling in your throat. what about you was so interesting for him? did he have a reason to find you pretty under him? what did you do for him to have such strong feelings so fast?

you speak slowly, “are you sure? i- i brushed you off the other day. another day i chose not to talk to you even though i saw you. am i really someone you want to talk to?”

mark smiles at your words, there’s no faltering on his end, “it’s my fault for not telling you what i wanted. i didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, either. if you didn’t want to talk to me, i didn’t want to force you to.”

your mouth opens and closes, not really knowing what else to say. you can tell he’s been thinking about this, been taking your feelings into consideration. if it were any other guy, they wouldn’t care about you, only thinking with their dicks as they talk to you. it puts you at ease knowing that mark is being genuine about it all.

“that’s why i wanted to talk to you tonight. i really had no intention of doing all this-” he makes a gesture between you two, “-with you, even if i really really wanted to. i was prepared for everything.”

you laugh at him, letting out the breath you’ve been holding, “i also want to say sorry. i didn’t mean to be so… mean. i wanted to talk to you, too. i just thought that you only wanted a one time thing, or that you just wanted sex.”

his hand reaches for yours, and you don’t try to brush it off. you don’t quite grab his hand just yet, but you let him hold on. he stares at you gently, “i’m sorry if i made you feel that way.”

you shake your head, “it’s not your fault, i was just thinking too much.”

the two of you sit in silence for a couple of moments. you can hear the loud music bouncing through the thin walls. you can hear people shouting over the music, loud laughs echoing down the halls. even through all the noise, it feels like it’s just the two of you in the room. this is your space with him, and you like how it feels.

after a few more beats of silence, he speaks up, “can i… can i take you out sometime? like, i mean, like, take you out on a date? that isn’t a party? just… wherever you want?”

you let out a small laugh at his nervous, jumbled words. his cheeks turn pink at the sound, head falling to your shoulder as he groans in embarrassment. you hope he can’t hear your thumping heart as you answer him, “i would like that. i want to go on a date with you, mark.”

you can feel him smile against the skin of your shoulder. he whispers out a thank you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. you wrap your arms behind his back, pulling him close as you hum, “do you think we should get out of here?”

he moves to look at you, “definitely.”

you’re unexpectedly nervous for today.

after the party, you and mark exchanged numbers before you both went separate ways for the night. you never expected to see him, never expected to not have sex with him, and never expected to even give him your phone number. now, as you stare at the shared messages from the previous days, you realize how much you kept yourself away from him.

it almost felt too easy for you to fall for him. you tried to hold back, but the care he holds for you gets to your heart. you don’t mind, knowing that he’s felt like this just as long as you had, no restraint shown in how he takes your feelings seriously. a few weeks ago, you could’ve never felt nervous about what might happen today.

it’s nothing serious, mark even saying that it doesn’t have to be a date if you don’t want it to be. like he said before, he just wants to get to know you as a person. the thought makes you shake out a breath, trying to take it just as easy as him.

you mull over your clothing options, wondering what exactly you should wear for a casual hangout. he probably won’t care as much as you think he would, but you don’t want to seem too prepared or too lax. you’re overthinking it again. it’s just mark. it should be easy with him, he’s interested in you, not the you you try to put on.

you grab whatever feels fitting for the day. you look back at your phone, seeing mark’s text saying he’s ready when you are. you’re quick to type out that you’re about to start heading over. it’s just a coffee shop, you think. you try not to put too much meaning into it yet.

it’s not too far from you, a fifteen minute bus ride to the place. throughout the ride, you try to drown out your nervous thoughts with your favorite playlist. it seems the universe is against you when all it plays are the love songs in your playlist. too coincidental.

you get there before him. it looks like a nice, quiet spot. mark says he’s been going here for quite some time, one of his favorite spots to talk to his friends or study. you can’t help but wonder if it’s true or if he’s lying to impress you. you figure today is the best day to find that out.

you wait for him to arrive. you refrain from texting him, deciding to just wait it out. you don’t want to seem too worried just yet, he could just be running late. thoughts of him standing you up enter your mind. you have to laugh at the thought, realizing that mark doesn’t seem to be someone to do that. you don’t know him well yet, but you’re sure he isn’t that evil.

as if to prove your point, you hear someone calling your name. turning to the direction of the voice, you're greeted with mark lee walking towards you. there’s a bright smile on his face, an arm waving at you. you smile and wave back. as he gets closer, he looks over you, a shy smile on his face as he scans over your outfit. you get just embarrassed as him, looking away from his heavy stare.

“should we go inside?” you ask.

he’s quick to agree, opening the door for you. when you enter, you’re hit with the strong smell of coffee. there’s a few others inside, chatting away or typing on their laptops with their own drinks. you scan over the lengthy menu, opting to choose something lighter for today.

mark chooses the same thing as you, and you laugh at him. he says he doesn’t like coffee and wonders why you chose what you chose. he might be thinking too much into it, but you think it’s cute. you try to order separately, but he practically begs to pay for your drink. you give in, you can’t just say no to a free drink.

it’s a bit awkward when you both wait for your drinks. you can see him roll on his heels as he waits, can see how he tries to pick out what he wants to say. as you try to come up with every possible response, he speaks, “how was your day?”

you let out a small chuckle at his question, “good, actually. i spent most of my time thinking about right now, even i kinda surprised myself.”

he smiles at your admittance, “yeah? i did, too. i was nervous, that maybe you didn’t want to see me.”

“i can’t believe that i’m making you feel like that,” you let out an apologetic laugh, “trust me, i’ll be asking to hang out with you a lot now.”

before mark can say anything, your drinks are set out. you both thank the barista, and you start to move to one of the empty booths. before you can, mark catches onto your arm, “can we actually, uh, sit outside? the sky looks really pretty right now, i think it would be cool to sit outside.”

you smile, quickly nodding at his words. once again, he holds open the door for you, sliding out and looking at the small tables set outside. he was right, the sky is really pretty today. he lets you choose a spot, and you choose towards the corner where no one can bother the two of you.

he’s quick to speak up again, “i really like this place. i found it a while ago while walking around with my friend one day.”

“was it with haechan?”

mark cocks his head a little, “you know him?”

“other than his name and him being your friend, not really. he introduced himself to me one time, though.”

he laughs at that, “good to know. he doesn’t really like coming to places like this, so i would just come here by myself. i even considered asking if they were hiring.”

“and? did you?”

“i didn’t. i would be crushed if they rejected me and i wouldn’t be able to show my face there ever again.”

you choke on your drink at his words, a laugh trying to escape as you let out coughs. mark is quick to pat your back, laughing while trying to calm down your coughing fit. as your throat clears, the coughs fade into laughs, mark joining you as he apologizes, “sorry for being too funny.”

you jokingly glare at him, “you owe me, mark lee.”

silence washes over the two of you again. this time, it’s more comfortable. the drink is good, mark’s company feels good, and you’re happy you came today. you watch as he takes out his phone, quickly snapping a shot of the bright blue sky. it seems practiced, something he always does. you can’t help but ask, “what about the sky makes you like it so much?”

he shrugs, “i just think it’s pretty. it’s not going anywhere, and it’s nice to take a break from it all and look up at the sky.”

“i’ve never really thought about it that way. i don’t really take the time to just stare at it.”

he hums at your words, “it’s nice to look and think about all the pretty things in the world.”

you try to ignore how he stares at you while he says that, quickly breaking eye contact with him. there’s a shy, but proud smile on his face. you chuckle, “you’re too cool for me, mark.”

“one day you’ll be as cool as me. just know that i’ll send you pictures of sunsets or the moon, or literally just, like, anything. anything that reminds me of you.”

he lists the things that he just told you he finds pretty, indirectly implying that all the pretty things remind him of you. your heart beats a little harder, quickly taking a sip of your drink to try to ignore it. you try to come up with anything else to get rid of the rush growing inside you, “you know, i actually had seen you once before.”

his head quickly turns to you, “really? when?”

“it was during freshman year, i saw you getting dragged down a hallway.”

mark racks through all his memories, pinpointing when exactly that could’ve happened. you watch the realization dawn on his face, quickly shoving his face into his hands in embarrassment. you shake his shoulder a bit, laughing when he makes a humiliated sound. you question him further, “where were you guys even going?”

after ruffling his own hair a bit, his head slowly lifts up to get a quick look at you. his face is red, hands fidgeting in shame. you wonder what could possibly be so bad. he speaks up when he starts to see you get worried a bit, “it wasn’t even anything crazy, he was just trying to take me to an event with free food in it.”

you can’t stop yourself from laughing, placing your hand on his arm to stable yourself. you decide not to think too hard when his other hand lays on top of yours, thumb smoothing over your skin. it feels like it should always be there, his warm palm calming down your nerves. it should always be this easy.

“if it was just that, then why are you so embarrassed?” you ask, laugh airy.

“i know, but i could’ve skipped free pizza and instead talked to you! it’s not fair you’ve known me longer than i’ve known you. maybe we could’ve… we would’ve…” he doesn’t finish the end of his sentence, but you can assume what he’s trying to say.

“two poor freshmen students couldn’t help themselves to free pizza. i can’t blame you, honestly.”

he squeezes your hand and takes a breath before speaking, “you’ll go with me to get free pizza next time? you’re, like, officially invited to the next free pizza event.”

you chuckle, “would very much prefer you to take me out to an actual pizza place, thank you very much.”

his eyes shoot towards yours, “does that mean you want to see me again?”

you put his words together, “mark lee, were you trying to get me to go on another date with you by asking me to go to a campus event with free pizza?”

“well, it almost worked, didn’t it?”

“you can think of it as me choosing the next spot.”

his fingers move to try to intertwine his with yours. you bite your lip, letting him hold onto your hand. you don’t want to hold back anymore, he’s made it easy for you to let go of it all. 

“i can’t wait. it’s my turn to confess.”

you wait for him to continue, watching him hold back a smile as he pays full attention to your hand holding his. you tell him to focus, and he lets out a sheepish laugh, “that day haechan talked to you, he told me that you were going out that weekend. i really wanted to see you, so we both ended up going out that same weekend, too.”

“how did you know where i would be?”

“we didn’t,” he chuckles, “i just hoped that i would find you, hoped that you would be there. i got lucky that night.”

“it’s like you knew exactly where to find me.”

“it’s almost as if our subconscious were trying to bring us together,” he let’s out a proud noise at his own words while you playfully roll your eyes at him.

“mark, i will threaten to cancel our next date,” you joke.

he hums, “i know where to look to find you, don’t worry.”

mark finds himself in bed with you again.

this time, he knows exactly why. he’s in love with you, and you finally admitted that you’re in love with him. he didn’t rush you, didn’t pressure you into reciprocating his feelings. he could see you becoming more comfortable around him, leaning into his touch, smiling at his words. he wouldn’t change anything (besides maybe that day he got dragged by haechan), in order to be here in bed with you.

even if all he had with you was that one night, he’d be happy knowing that he at least spent some time with you. but he got what he wanted, you let him into your life. he would’ve waited years if it meant getting with you.

so as he makes his way in between your thighs once more, he looks to see your face staring down at him with love. though he’s having sex with you again like all those nights ago, it feels different this time. he’s not here just to fuck you, but he’s here because he loves you. what’s even better is that now you love him back, and it feels right as you moan out his name.

he’s softer this time around, no rush in getting you both off as fast as possible. there’s no loud music or screaming coming through the walls, and you’re laying on top of your own bed. he’s here in your room, enjoying the presence of you right next to him.

he licks a stripe up your dripping cunt, savoring the taste that he’s been craving. he looks up to gauge your reaction, a smiling forming on his face to see your face scrunched up with need. he moves to suck on your clit, humming around it, feeling your thighs tighten around his head. he doesn’t bother moving them this time around, letting them try to shut around his head.

you can feel his tongue prod at your entrance, your hands move to tangle in his hair. he just can’t get enough of how sweet you taste. he thinks he could spend hours here in between your thighs, licking up your slick. he thanks every god out there for letting him be here with you, letting him be so entranced by all of you.

he grabs you by the waist to pull you closer to him. you can feel his nose press against your clit, and you can’t help but practically use his face to grind into him. he opens his eyes a bit, looking at the sight of you so fucked out just from his mouth. you’re all he can think about.

you can feel one of his fingers replace his tongue, moving to tease your clenching hole. you gasp out, tears welling in your eyes, “mark, please. need you so bad, you don’t even know-”

“baby-” you moan at the pet name, “i know how much you need me, i could never keep you waiting.” he slides a finger in, relishing in the way you clench around his digit. his mouth focuses on your clit, listening to the moans and whimpers you let out. it’s all because of him this time, all of the things he does for you because of how much he loves you.

he slips another finger in, scissoring them inside you, earning him a tug at his hair. his fingers move to curl inside you, enjoying the feeling of your warm walls wrapped around his fingers. you whimper when he finds your sweet spot, thighs practically trapping him between your thighs. he commits that spot to memory, now forever burned into his mind.

it doesn’t take long for him to get you close to cumming. he’s putting all his attention on you, his desperation showing with how greedily he’s moving against you. you feel your body heat up, thighs beginning to shake around him. “m-mark, ‘m gonna cum, wanna cum so bad!” you wait, and you can feel him smile against you.

he pulls his mouth away from you, his fingers still moving inside of you as he thumb reaches to rub your clit. he moves to kiss you, licking into your mouth. you can taste yourself on his tongue, moaning into your mouth as you cum on his fingers. he rides you through it, fingers slowing down as you whine from the overstimulation.

he removes them from you, bringing them up to his mouth. you watch him slide them into his mouth, his eyes fluttering shut with the taste of your cum. he lets out a small groan, and you have to lightly kick his leg to get him to focus. his eyes focus on you again, letting out an embarrassed laugh, trying to redirect it towards you.

“my girl came so fast, did you miss me that much?” he teases.

you roll your eyes, “so what if i did! now, will you let me finally suck you off?”

his eyes bulge out of his head and you have to refrain from laughing at the sight. “i never got to, but you don’t know how much i want to.”

you both trade spots, mark laying to lean against the headboard, his hooded eyes staring down at you. your hands trail up his clothed thighs, and he can’t miss the way you look at his bulge in his sweats. you make eye contact with him as you slide down his sweats and boxers, watching how his hard cock slaps against his stomach.

he lets out a low groan at the sight of you so prettily sat between his legs. you kitten lick his tip before wrapping your hand around his length. you move your hand slowly up and down, smiling at the low groans he lets out at the feeling. you won’t ever admit it to him, but you’ve thought about doing this to him too much, even before you started dating.

you can tell he thought about it too with the way his bleary eyes look at you. his head pushes into the headboard as your lips wrap around his tip, sucking lightly. his hand doesn’t hesitate to move to your cheek, his thumb smoothing over your soft skin. your tongue swirls around his tip, and mark tries hard to stop himself from shoving his cock down your throat.

you move down his cock, trying to take as much of him as you can. you have to wrap a hand at his base, twisting your fist as you bob your head. his hips buck up a little, feeling you gag around him, moaning out an apology. you hum around him, a hand moving to hold down his hip. he lets out a whine at the feeling of vibrations, one of his hands moving to tug at his hair.

“d-doing so good for me- shit, my girl is doing such a good job for me.”

the praise makes your cheeks heat up, and you quicken your movements to hear more. you swallow around him, hearing the anguished groans he lets out. your tongue slides against the underside of his cock, “such a pretty mouth, making me feel so good. you d-don’t know how much i thought about this.”

if only he knew that you feel the same way. as if to respond to him, your eyes look up at his. they almost flutter close, the sight of his cock in your mouth, your pretty eyes batting at him, and the almost glossy look to your eyes sets something off in him. he’s so close, a broken moan escaping him, “if you keep doing that, i’ll cum- oh god, please don’t stop.”

he tries to hold off to make this last longer, but every time you swallow around him, it gets hard for him to hold back. he’s losing his self control, something that you always manage to take away from him. he doesn’t know how you do it, but he thinks it’s because of all the love he holds for you.

it’s your eyes smiling at him that makes him cum. you don’t pull off of him, trying to fit more of his length into your mouth as he spills his cum down your throat. he’s letting out whines of your name, telling you how good you’ve been, how he’s so lucky to have his pretty girl do this for him. you swallow up all his cum, feeling how his cock twitches in your mouth.

you don’t pull away from him right away, causing mark to nervously laugh out at the feeling of overstimulation. you hum around him once more, hearing the small whimper he lets out as he tries to pull away. you slowly move away, mark letting out a huff of relief as you lazily smile at him. 

“i think i would’ve passed out if you tried making me cum again.”

you move up to snuggle at his side, nuzzling your face into this neck, “now you know how i feel when i have to get you to stop eating me out.”

he whines out an it’s different! as he wraps his arms around you, tucking you into his chest. he’s warm, slightly sweaty, but you wouldn’t want it any other way. it’s quiet, hearing his heart beat in his chest with you so close to him. you could fall asleep in his arms, but you hear him whisper something above you. you ask him to repeat it, not quite catching it the first time.

“please don't leave me ever again.”

“this is my own apartment-” he laughs at your words, “plus, i think i love you too much to let myself ever leave you.”

he lets out a sigh, calmed by your words, “good. i can’t ever let my girl go anywhere anymore.”

a/n: I FINALLY FINISHED OH MY GOD. i love writing for mark and towards the end i somehow fell more in love with him... i hope u guys enjoy the second part to how it all goes, please let me know if you did!!!! hehe

taglist: @mwahaechz @froggyforyoongi @ppeachyttae @omlhyck @hazyhae @haechology @hrts4doie @kittydollzz @emvrd @pnkified @se7vnn @p4p1l0nn @jeankirsteinsgf69 @n0hyuck @yoursyuno @doejaejung @ccnicole02 @yuskitty @hyuckills @luvjoongz @sunnyeyes7 @tddyhyck @tmtxtf @arsvita @do0jaem @starfields @yoongjk @qusil @hcluvie @chaeceah @kriizztin

[back2bluesidex]

Slide - That Night - MYG (18+)

Pairing: Producer!Yoongi X Lyricist!Reader 

Theme: Angst, smut, unplanned pregnancy. Fwb to ?

Word count: 1.1k+

Summary: 

"I know that you've never been this high Promise, baby, I'll take you to heaven if you want it I'll take you to heaven if you die"

Alternatively,

You would give yourself up willingly again and again if it means Yoongi will stay close to you. for whatever purpose.

Warnings: angst, somewhat explicit smut, drinking, Yoongi is being kinda talkative and also lowkey confessing things. Reader and Yoongi both are quiet people.

Listened to Slide by Chase Atlantics

Minors do not interact!!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Patreon (for early access)

A/N: This is another chapter from The Past. This chapter is important for understanding Yoongi and Gyuri's break-up scenario and why reader would make choices she would make. hope I make sense.

Taglist requests are closed for now

Read the main chapter from The Present in Patreon.

“I said no to the engagement.” Yoongi reveals, as quiet as vapor. You might have missed it if it wasn’t for your utmost attention trained on him and only him. 

It is probably in the middle of the second or third beer when he lets himself go. Or more like opens himself up for you to see. 

Ever since that night, Yoongi seems to have gotten comfortable with your presence. He has loosen up much more in these couple of weeks than he did in the years of knowing you. It makes you feel good, makes you feel important. 

Even though you have always been curious about what went wrong in his and Gyuri’s exemplary relationship, you never pried. Of course, it isn’t your place to ask. You don’t even know if you have that right or not. 

But you always waited. And it seems like your patience was worth it all. 

“I wasn’t ready.” Yoongi continues automatically. You still choose to stay silent, let him decide the pace of the conversation. “It’s not that I didn’t love her. I loved her. Shit. I love her and I always will. But something about sharing a life with someone else always freaks me out. Marrying, having kids - all these, freaks me out.” he groans. 

“I loved her. Shit. I love her and I always will” these are the words that you register the most. You replay these in the back of your mind and let your heart weep in silence. 

Now he laughs, and you find it tough to decide whether it is generated from pain or sarcasm. 

“She said that my decision didn’t even shock her, that I have been aloof and distant all these times. That I made her feel like she was the only one in the relationship and she knew this was coming. And you know what? She was right. I am like that. I always have been. It’s just sad, you know..” he inhales a sharp breath, “it’s just sad that she couldn’t love me for who I am.” 

How ironic. You think. 

Yoongi’s quiet, aloof, reserved persona is what had drawn you towards him. 

“I think you are intriguing like this. Cold, aloof, distant, it all makes you more and more lovable.” you confess and right after a moment you regret. You try to blame it on the alcohol right when Yoongi laughs again. 

This time his laugh is more of the amused kind. Is he really amused with your admission? 

“You find me intriguing because you are the very same. Cold, aloof, distant and… loveable.” Yoongi voices, the last bit of smile disappearing from his voice. 

You never thought like this. You never thought how similar you and yoongi are and how that could have played a big part in producing the feelings that you harbor for him. 

Now that he has pointed it out - you wonder - if opposites attract then this means Yoongi will never feel the same for you. 

“I guess.” you chug down the rest of your beer, subsiding the sinking feeling of your heart. 

“Have you ever been in love?” Yoongi asks now. His eyes pierce through yours. 

“I don’t think I have.” you admit. You divert your eyes from his, there is something swirling behind his irises and you think that phenomena would swallow you up alive. 

“What about a heartbreak? Ever had one?” Yoongi places his next question as if you are playing trivia. 

“The night I picked you up. My heart broke upon witnessing your condition.” you have always been straight forward. But you also know how to play safe. Hence, choosing a statement that would both tell the truth and conceal it at the same time looks like the safest option to you. 

“Oh. why?” Yoongi’s voice comes from a closer distance now. He must have shifted closer while you were busy staring at the ceiling. 

“We are similar after all.” you finally look at him again. And that has been a mistake because Yoongi is very definitely staring at your lips. 

Again, it is the alcohol to be blamed but you don’t pay half mind to all the alarms that set off when you take the initiative of closing the distance between your lips. 

You expect him to push you away. You expect him to look at you with disgust in his eyes and storm out of your apartment. 

But Min Yoongi rarely does what you expect him to. 

So he grabs you by your neck and kisses you back with all the force and lust he could gather in himself. 

Yoongi’s fingers slide through the most secret parts of your body, where you have hardly ever given any access to anyone. But when it’s Min Yoongi, you give up readily and willingly. 

His mouth plays with the skin on your throat, biting you, marking you with excellence. 

You must be in heaven right now. 

If not then how come Yoongi is marking his territory on your skin? How come his hands are exploring your body like this? 

You know this is forbidden. By whom or what you don’t really have an idea. But that doesn’t change the fact that Min Yoongi can’t be yours and that you should stay away from him when he is broken. 

He is like a broken mirror, he reflects you but the moment you touch him, you get hurt. 

And you are past the stage of touching him now. 

Yoongi slides inside you with ease, his hands rest on your waist as he slams his entire length inside you. 

You hiss because of the initial stretch. 

He gives you time to adjust and once you are done he starts moving. 

He places his pretty mouth beside your ear and starts chanting your name, “Y/N. oh. Fuck. Y/N.” it sounds like the sweetest melody known to humankind. 

You let out occasional moans and groans with his lethal moves. His fingernails dig into your skin as if they are bound to be planted there. 

You wander through the haze - is this a dream? Is this one of those twisted dreams that you often end up having but never manage to finish? 

Yoongi groans again in your ear as he starts increasing his pace. He rutts in you like an animal in heat. 

Your bed starts creaking and you realize this is definitely not a dream. 

Min Yoongi is actually inside you, fucking you as if there’s no tomorrow. 

When he finishes inside the condom and flops down on you, you wish for the time to stop. You wish for your wish to come true. 

Even though you know, not even in your dreams Min Yoongi will ever love you back. 

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[tactical-jellyfish]

The Mistakes That Have Been Made

Warnings!: Angst, angst, and more angst. Reader will be MAD sad for most of this. Poorly-practiced, unhealthy polyamory. Reader will experience a LOT of gender and body dysphoria over the course of this (though I will do my best to keep it gender-neutral throughout, bear with me), but there WILL be comfort over that.

Shout out! This fic was inspired in part by the lovely @cielosafeplace's post. I will be taking liberties, but the bones are all from there. Thanks again for letting me use this, friend <3

Since you were young, you've been very aware that you aren't like very many other people. That's fine, really. Being weird is no sin, or at least, not one you care about. If you happened to have crushes who happened to overlap, that was no one's business but your own.

That being said, the yearning, gooey parts of you were something that you never did entertain, for your own sake.

Still, when there were four men who all seemed not just willing, but enthusiastic to fill in those needs, of course you let them.

Of course, why wouldn't you? When Kyle kissed you so nicely, when he took you apart to heal you back together? When Johnny showed you passions that you'd been missing out on? When Ghost had you at his side, with the lights off and the blankets warm? Why wouldn't you let them have you?

They were your team anyway, those four made damn well sure you were alright.

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

Actually, that might be too nice a judgement.

You know your team has been... very upset with you, lately.

Most of that is your fault. It was a bad call, and Ghost nearly got shot coming to help you. Really, you do understand that anger, but it's gotten lonely.

Price has stopped talking to you outside of orders, just like Ghost. Johnny gave you a verbal lashing you might never forget, and Kyle scowled at you in a way that made you head inside your room for the rest of the day just to avoid him.

It's been a couple days, and you're still on a very short list with all of them.

But something's off.

It doesn't hurt too badly yet, you must admit, but something feels like it's wrong.

A bit of pain, near the center of your belly, right below the navel. Sure, you're grown, you've had your bellyaches. It's not too bad, but it's a sort of new that you don't trust. Not even a little bit.

So, you go to your captain. Of course you do. He's got the most power, why shouldn't you?

Smooth, dark wood knocks clear and sharp under your knuckles, and a gruff "Come in." is all the command you need.

"Hey, Price. I was going to ask-"

"Is there a reason you saw fit to come in during the busiest week of the year not on fire?"

The interruption makes you still as the pain fades just a bit, seemingly also slinking away as the nervousness takes root.

Sure, you might have made a wrong call last mission, but were they this upset with you?

"Uh- I wanted to ask you something-"

You shouldn't be nervous. Price is your captain. He's just a little grumpy, nothing more. He'll answer, or he'll know who to ask. You're one of his, he shouldn't hate you.

"Find someone else, then. Your incompetence isn't my problem."

You know better than to disobey that tone, even as the prickle of pain returns to you, so you shut the door.

It feels a little worse now, and an uncomfortable tightness rises as you step back, but it's easy enough to push away with a deep breath or two.

Alright. Ghost might know. He's not under the pressure Price is, making up for your mistake.

So, you seek out your lieutenant.

He's in the gym. Training rookies, but it seems you've gotten lucky, because he's just told the newbies to spar each other, and is currently watching over them.

The sharp spike of hot pain makes you gasp a little bit, but your voice calling to him is what makes the man turn.

"Ghost."

"Yes, Crash?"

Your callsign makes you smile, just a little bit, but his tone doesn't. He sounds... really stern, more upset than he usually is when he's on training duty.

"I think something might be off, my stomach's hurting and-"

The relief of finally getting to tell someone about this odd pain is cut as you're, once more, interrupted before you can finish.

"Take a painkiller."

Okay, now this is getting annoying to you.

"I already have, you're not-"

"Not your bloody nursemaid, that's what I'm not."

His voice rises in a way that makes you swallow once more. The way you brace a foot behind you makes the ache come back, flaring in your gut, a bit lower this time. It's so loud a few of the recruits turn to look, one or two snickering, making shame and anger roil in your hurting stomach.

Your silence seems to allow for more speech from the man, because the scowl you just know is under his mask hardens, and his voice gets even louder, purposely projecting so the full gaggle of rookies can hear him.

"It's not my responsibility to take care of a faulty informations "Specialist". If you're not going to be useful, leave."

He says your job title like it's a fucking joke, goes to the efforts of doing air-quotes around it. The rookies laugh like it is one.

The shame and anger meld into an ugly thing, burning behind your eyes and making the stabbing pain just that much worse. You understand. They're angry, you did something stupid. That's fine. The fact that Ghost deemed it necessary to shoot you down like that in from of the fucking rookies is shitty.

But that's still your lieutenant. And you're still bound by his word. So you do leave, return to the small space you call your office and see if this is something that you can ride out.

Maybe you were being some sort of dramatic, maybe nothing was ever hurting, even if you feel it getting worse by the hour.

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

That might have been the worst mistake you've made in your life, because here you are, bent over the toilet, emptying your guts again.

You're losing track of how many times you've watched the swirling bowl swallow your vomit just to be refilled, but you feel abysmal, bad enough to check your phone for the fifth time this hour as the thing sits on just one percent of its usual battery.

An unread text sits on the screen, sent to a group chat cheekily titled "the sergeants" by one John MacTavish.

Something's wrong, please come help me

Delivered, but not responded to. Neither are picking up their phones.

Fuck. This isn't good.

The nausea has started to pass, but the pain hasn't. It feels like a hot spear is jabbing into your abdomen, lighting up the entire right side with a burning pain that's only starting to intensify further.

It hurts so fucking bad, every breath is a harder task than the last. You can't bear to rise from your haunches. The movement would be too much, it would make the pain spike to a level you know you can't handle. Pressing your hands to the pain that's stabbing into you is useless, but you do it anyway.

The realization that something is very wrong sinks in, and you can't help the fact that you start to cry. When you turn to try and send another text, a more urgent plea, your phone shuts off with a dead, black screen.

You think you might be dying. It's only getting worse, and the door's locked. No one's coming to help you. You're alone, and your dead brick of a phone won't fix that.

Crying is doing nothing to help you. In fact, it makes the pain worse, but there's no logic left for you.

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

The thing that pulls you from this is a quiet rapping on the bathroom door.

"Hey, um, are you good? You're kind of- crying."

It's not a voice you don't know. Awkward and fumbling, like they haven't used it in a while, and a little raspy. You choke a word of thanks as the pain spikes again, and sob once more.

"It fucking hurts. Please get a medic."

Your own voice is wet, it feels foreign to you. But thank the stars, the message gets across really well to whoever's on the other side.

A thick-soled boot makes quick work of the lock with the force of a good kick, and there's the rustling of clothes next to you. You don't move to look.

Almost delicate hands (when compared to your own team, of course) cup your own, putting just a bit too much pressure on the lower right side of your pained body and making your breaths trip again.

"Shit, I'm so sorry, just- I'm going to pick you up, okay? I- you look really bad."

His voice is gentle, the softest you've heard in the service. It's a relief to you, and you nod shakily as he hauls you up into comfortable arms, walking you over to the base's medical room as fast as possible without jostling you.

You'll admit that the next hour or so is... blurry, to you.

You remember the medic looking not-that-concerned when you came in, pressing their hand to your belly, the lower right side. When you whined in pain, they started looking worried.

Soon after, you were introduced to the emergency surgeon. She wasn't really clear, and kind of strict, but getting your stomach pumped was not a fun experience.

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

Waking up from anesthesia is an ugly, uncomfortable thing, but you know the feeling while it hits you.

Your eyes are bleary, too-dry and unfocused, and your head is fuzzy with more than the anesthetic itself. Pain meds. Feels like... awful.

There's a little gasp when your eyes open, and you glance to the side to see maybe the last person you thought you would.

Not Price, or Ghost, or Soap or Gaz. No, it's the soft-handed, quiet voiced man, sitting in the chair and staring at you.

You're not sure what you expected, but you're not greeted verbally. It's an excited wave, followed by a lot of British Sign Language.

"I'm... I'm sorry, luv. I only learned how to finger-spell back in basics."

He doesn't look too dejected, which is honestly a relief. He switches over seamlessly, taking the individual letters slowly, for your sake.

It's okay. He spells the words slowly, forming the letters cleanly and precisely with practiced fingers that tell you he's been doing this for some time. You had appendicitis. The nurse said you were really lucky to get here when you did, and that they called your captain to tell him you'll be out for a day or so.

"Oh."

The cocktail of painkillers mutes your reaction, lowers it from sheer rage to a simple, tired acceptance. In that moment, you don't question why you're alone, sans this stranger. You just soak it in, really.

"What's your name, then?"

Gary.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

He looks confused, but spells it again for you, slower this time.

"No, I know your name is Gary, I'm just sorry."

You realize what you say the second it leaves your mouth, and shut your eyes to cope with the mortification. Instead, you hear a giggle, followed by a laugh.

It's a squeaky thing, Gary's laughter. He only seems to make noise when he draws in the breath, and it makes a high-pitched, slightly raspy sound, like he's taken damage to the voice box or throat before. You would liken it to a dying goose, if you were meaner.

I like you. We should talk more.

He's smiling. He's looking at you and he is smiling. It makes you feel useful again, like there is still something to be salvaged of the errors you cause.

You do, in fact, talk more with him.

A lot more.

Next chapter

[crepezinhos]

The Power of Lyrics

POV: All Scaramouche was supposed to do was sing a song that the crowd was asking for, but he should’ve known that would’ve been a bad idea to him and you.

⚠️ WARNINGS:

— This is an angsty SFW Oneshot

— Reader is FEMALE and uses SHE/HER pronouns

— AU is: Modern

— Rockstar!Scara x Common!Reader

— Mentions of vomiting, toxic relationships and death threats

“Something bad is ‘bout to happen to me.” You watched the stage’s lights slowly fade from white into an intimate red tone, making Scaramouche look even more hypnotizing in that black tank top and blue jeans along with his wine-red guitar.

The whole crowd started screaming in extreme excitement as the words came out of his mouth. It’s been almost a year since he last sang it to a crowd and they’ve been begging for him to sing it the whole show after all.

“I don’t know what, but I feel it coming.” He looked down at the multiple fans in the front rows of the audience, admiring the passion and joy in their faces.

But you knew he couldn’t really keep his eyes on one direction for too long, so he quickly swayed his head around to make contact with the people in the back as he breathed in and out for the next lines. He would frequently talk a lot about these little details and rules of performing to you.

“Might be so sad, might leave my nose running.” Was it worrying for you to be already feeling sick and wanting to stop Kaveh from showing you what was going to happen on that clip?

“I just hope she don’t wanna leave me.” What an awful feeling of nostalgia… making your heart ache in grief for something you didn’t wish to be grieving for.

But inevitably, his voice was bringing your mind back to many years ago to when he first sang that line to you.

It was your three-year anniversary as college lovebirds and you two were in a private room in your mutually favorite restaurant. Scaramouche was deeply in-love with you, but was struggling with money during that era, so he opted to give you that song as a gift instead. You even remember tearing up while listening to his gentle voice singing it, after all, every line of it was a reflection of how Scaramouche felt about you.

And right after it… he proposed to you.

“Don’t you give me up, please, don’t give up.”

“Honey, I belong with you, and only you, baby.”

You were the one that convinced him to publish it after a few talks about his career, which fairly resulted on his first hit and the beginning of his career. The pride you two shared from that achievement convinced you to play it during your marriage’s party while swaying with each other in the dancing hall with other couples around. You, in that beautiful white dress and makeup, and him, looking so elegant in that black tuxedo. The both of you under multiple red lights just like Scaramouche was in that stage, but alone.

“Only you, my girl, only you, babe.”

“Only you, darling, only you, babe.”

“Only you, my girl, only you, babe.”

“Only you, darling, only you.”

The crowd begun turning on their phone’s flashlights and swaying them according to the chorus’ rhythm and their voices noticeably rose in volume. After all, it was the catchiest part of the music.

“Something bad is ‘bout to happen to me.”

“Why I feel this way, I don’t know, maybe.”

“I think of her so much it drives me crazy.”

“I just don’t want her to leave meEEh.”

Your eyebrows rose when you heard that voice crack.

Scaramouche’s voice never cracked during one of his shows, or at least, not so enormously like that.

Perhaps this was when it would begin.

The microphone attached to the back of his ear slightly captured noises of what you recognized as Scaramouche clearing his throat. You heard him do it many times in his studio.

“Don’t you give me up, please, don’t give up.”

“Honey, I belong with you, and only you, baby.”

“Only you, my girl, only you, babe.”

“Only you, darling, only you, babe.”

“Only you, my girl, only you, babe…”

“Only you… dar— ling… only you…”

Scaramouche would typically walk around the stage during these quiet moments, jamming his head and feet according the beat, or he would interact with the crowd, making gestures or questions. But, since Kaveh gave you a preview of what was going to happen in that clip, you weren’t surprised to see him struggling to keep composure, but you were a little hurt and awkward to see how it was happening.

Scaramouche wasn’t doing anything, not even playing the guitar. He was just pathetically standing in front of millions while staring at the edge of the stage along with a few sighs being caught by the microphone.

The awkward ambient he created was giving you an unbearable secondhand embarrassment. Thankfully, from the point-of-view you were watching the clip from, the camera could still sneak underneath his hair and capture his face, and his facial expression seemed a little worried, as if he was disassociating with the moment. After all, he had almost disconnected with the song’s rhythm.

Perhaps, it was done, right? You couldn’t keep looking at him like that. Scaramouche almost had an episode mid-stage, but now that the song went on its little break, where only a romantic guitar solo would happen, he would use it to think strategically, regain his facade and continue singing normally, right?

“Keep watching.” Your colleague, Kaveh, tapped on your shoulder when he realized you weren’t too focused on the video anymore, which forced your eyes to linger back on the screen of his phone.

“Is he ok?” The person that probably owned the phone where the POV came from mumbled the question, their voice being muffled by the hundred other noises in the moment.

Buzz…

Buzz…

You felt something vibrate in your left thigh. You immediately figured it was your phone since it came from right where your stuffed pocket was, and Kaveh decided to pull his phone away to pause the clip.

“Who is it?!” He asked desperately as you pulled your phone out.

Scaramouche

“… It’s him.” You weren’t exactly surprised, but Kaveh certainly was entertained with the occasion.

“Are you going to…” He could barely hide his worry and excitement.

“Answer? No.” You quickly placed your thumb on top of the red button that was being shown at your screen, which made Kaveh get slightly disappointed, but he preferred to not comment about it.

You decided to place your phone at your desk this time, making it more accessible than your pants in case he called again.

Kaveh brought his phone back to your eyes again, and clicked the pause button to unpause it.

Scaramouche was still standing at the same spot with a breathing rhythm that was growing in speed and intensity every second.

Closer to the end of the guitar solo, Scaramouche placed a hand on his mouth. And then, it quickly panicked and moved upwards to pull most of his hair backwards.

When the solo was finally done, and the song was supposed to be back, nothing came out of his throat, just breathless sighs that were finally cracking into whimpers.

“Is he having a panic attack?” The phone’s owner asked again, zooming closer to his face.

The millions of people around him were awkwardly quiet and confused, whispering to each other and making questions. It even made you feel pity for Scaramouche’s situation. Everyone wanted to know what was going on, if Scaramouche was actually breaking down or if this was some trick to catch everyone’s attention, and perhaps get himself a viral clip on social media, or if he had actually forgot the lyrics.

Finally, Scaramouche rose his head in a blink, desperately wanting to see how disastrous his situation had become, but everyone just focused on one thing.

A tear.

Or… actually…

Two falling tears.

“He’s crying!” The phone’s owner sighed in mercy.

Eveyrone in the crowd cooed for him, which immediately made Scaramouche’s eyes to drop even more repressed tears, and his other hand to help cover his whole face.

Thankfully, it influenced a group to unite and help him get rid of the horrible embarrassment he was going through. After all, everyone knew for who this song was made for.

“What if she’s fine?”

“It’s my mind that’s wrong.”

“And I just let bad thoughts…”

“Linger for far too long.”

Scaramouche’s body leaned down as he heard the song, as if he was finally allowing himself to feel it. Although the microphone wasn’t able to catch much of his voice because of his cover, it was pretty clear to everyone that he was beginning to cry, and the more the crowd united to sing his own creation, the harder it was being for him to resist it.

“Don’t you give me up, please, don’t give up on me.”

“Honey, I belong, with you, and only you, baby.”

And finally, the moment that was most replaying on every social media:

Scaramouche suddenly crumbled and fell on his knees, sitting on the back of his ankles as he curled his entire body down to whimper in the floor. The loud ‘bang’ noise of his guitar against the floor didn’t even matter to him.

“Only you, my girl, only you, babe.”

“Only you, darling, only you, ba—

Pause.

You couldn’t bear hearing that nickname anymore or getting secondhand embarrassment from Scaramouche’s episode anymore.

You crossed your arms to think, and Kaveh immediately took that as a sign to finally turn off his phone and put it back to his pants.

“I-I’m sorry if I bothered you, Y/N, but I think you should be aware of this.” He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck as he saw your turned-off face.

“No, it’s ok.” You finally looked at him again with a weak smile. “At least I know at least five people sent me death threats on my Instagram’s DMs nos.” You shrugged your shoulders and laughed the problem off as if it wasn’t an absurd.

What were some of the quotes again?

scaramouchesversion

Kys

You bitch

I hope you’re happy with what you did

scaramouchesno1fan

How could you ever divorce him smh

I hope you die soon

You chuckled again as your remembered that last ‘DM request’. Kaveh decided to chuckle with you too since he couldn’t tell how you were feeling, but before he could even say something about it, you heard a familiar noise again.

Buzz…

Buzz…

Kaveh’s body froze as he waited for you to give him an answer.

But you simply turned your head back and stared at your phone’s screen blankly.

It was him again. That was Scaramouche about 10 minutes after having a mental breakdown onstage in front of millions of his fans, and was probably still having.

You gently reached for your phone and stared closer at it for some extra seconds to think better about what you wanted.

“I’ll answer.” You looked at Kabeh, which made him immediately nod in obedience and step away from you and your little office.

You waited until Kaveh had visibly closed the door shut to click the green button and dragged it to your ear, although you were pretty much he had his ear leaned against the door.

“Y-Y…” You heard him whimpering your name’s first syllable, trying to keep composure. “Y/N..?”

“Hi.” You didn’t know what to say, but you knew exactly what you wanted to hear.

“Oh, God…” His voice broke down even more than it already was. “It’s you..!”

“Yes. It’s me.” You shrugged your shoulders even if he couldn’t see you doing it.

“Y/N, I… I don’t even know what to say, but please, don’t hang up!” He paused for a beat to stabilize himself, noticeably swallowing down. “We… we need to talk.”

“Do we, Scaramouche?” You asked a little ironically, holding back a sadistic giggle.

“Yes! Yes, we do!” He screamed at you, mad at how emotionally distant you sounded.

“What do we need to talk about then?” You started walking in circles in your office.

“Our… our divorce.” You hated how those words immediately triggered memories in your mind.

“Kuni, please… don’t do this! We don’t have to do this!” You cried and begged to him in pure desperation while trying to hold him by his wrist to stop him from walking around your shared room.

“Can you fucking stop clinging on me, for fuck’s sake?!” His hands carelessly pushed your hands away from his wrist, repelling it away from you afterwards as if he disgusted you.

“We can still fight for our marriage, Scaramouche! For us! We still love each other despite the problem we’re going through right now, don’t we?!” You desperately placed your hands at your chest, trying to make yourself the target of his attention.

But all Scaramouche did was roll his eyes back and sigh in pure boredom and stress.

“I DON’T WANT ‘US’ ANYMORE!” He screamed at the top of his lungs to you, making you flinch away several times, pausing to recover some of his breath before screaming at you again. “IF ‘US’ IS YOU FUCKING PISSING ME OFF EVERY FUCKING DAY BECAUSE OF SOME STUPID HOUSE CHORES OR BECAUSE OF MY SLEEP SCHEDULE, I DON’T WANT IT!”

“No, no, no, no, no!” His words made you feel like your whole world was beginning to crumble in front of you and that your heart shattered in a million pieces. “PLEASE!” You threw yourself onto his legs, latching your hands on him like a leech, knees banging hard against the floor, but you ignored the pain for the sake of him. “I’ll do anything for you to not do this, Scaramouche! I’ll stop complaining, I’ll stop demanding things from you, I’ll let you do whatever you want, I’ll take care of the house, anything at all! I just don’t want us to end like this!” You pathetically sobbed on his pants, wetting him mercilessly.

Ick.

That was what he felt for you at that moment and that was how those memories made you feel now.

“What about it?” You finally focused back on Scaramouche, who was still waiting for a response.

“I… I don’t think we…” He still seemed lost on his own thoughts and memories as he spoke to you, just like he was onstage. “I don’t think we should’ve separated our ways, Y/N…” He finally said it.

You never felt such an agonizing feeling of unfairness and hypocrisy in your entire life.

“Oh, really? Why do you think that?” You scoffed at his feelings.

“I sang the song… your song…” He initiated but his voice beginning to break again due to his crying. “But I started remembering the lyrics and why and when I wrote them, and I..!” Scaramouche couldn’t hold back his cry, not being able to finish himself for a few seconds. “I regret it, Y/N!” He screamed at the top of his lungs.

“Interesting.” You wanted to keep listening to him.

“I don’t know what was I thinking, Y/N… I was such a fucking idiot..! All that you were doing was worry and care for my health and I fucking… I fucking ruined it all..!” His voice became hoarse in that matter of seconds.

“I know.”

“Please… let’s talk about it… we can still fight for it…” It hurt to hear those words only now. You would’ve done anything to hear them a year ago.

“No, we can’t.” Your voice finally started to break too as your anger increased. It was an absurd to hear your words come out of his mouth like that.

“Huh..?” Scaramouche didn’t seem to process those words.

“You’re right, Scaramouche. I would spend hours, every single day, begging for you to not leave me, to stop with the divorce. I would kneel and hold you for your minimum care and attention and tell you that I forgave every fucking wrong thing that you did to me or the house, your ignorance, your stupidity, your distance, but you ignored it. Every single attempt of mine went straight to trash.” You started to feel a few tears forming in the back of your eyes too, and you could hear Scaramouche whimpering in regret as you detailed your past with him.

“I know I shouldn’t have done that, Y/N! I learned my lesson! I finally fucking learned on that stupid stage that it is stupid of me to ignore and neglect help and that I should appreciate it instead! I want to stop myself from doing it! I want to heal myself and become a better person! I want to heal us! That’s why I’m calling you, Y/N, I fucking love you! I love you with every fiber of my heart and every damn cell of my body! My whole fucking career doesn’t have a meaning without you!” He paused for a moment again to hyperventilate and cry for a few seconds while you reflected. “Listen to me…” His voice sounded a little bit more serious now, but still full with tears and emotion. “We can solve this. Everything will be ok between us. We can begin doing couple therapy once a week, and—”

“We?” You cut him off with a sarcastic laugh, causing him to stop talking. “You’re the only one who needs therapy here, Scara.”

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N! Can you stop being so fucking rude and listen to me for one minute?! I know I have no fucking rights to be asking you this right now, but I’m trying my best to express my regret here!” He seemed extremely triggered with your sarcasm.

“That’s your best?!” That was the loudest scoff you had ever done in your life.

“If you gave me a fucking chance to talk instead of cutting me off like some annoying spoiled bitch, I would’ve—!” You heard Scaramouche’s breath hitch as he realized he had said the wrongs words. “I… Fuck, I’m sorry..!” He whimpered again, anxiety hitting him like a truck.

“That’s your problem, Scaramouche. You can’t handle the consequences of your actions. You bottle them up until they explode. You couldn’t handle your career’s demand, you couldn’t handle our divorce, you couldn’t handle the aftermath of it… and you’re finally exploding to the only person in the world that would be willing to listen to you and help you, me. But, unfortunately, you chose to neglect me too until I had no option but to distance myself from you. And your execution was so lame, that now… I’m not interested in you or ‘us’ anymore, Scaramouche.” You were brutally neutral as you broke his heart, which made them even more painful to Scaramouche.

“You don’t mean it…” He whimpered like a kid.

“I’m seeing other guys, Scaramouche.” Finally, the phone call went silent for a moment.

Scaramouche tried mumbling some syllables at first, desperate to argue back as soon as possible, but you truly had left him speechless.

“W… Wha—?” Finally, you brought the phone’s screen to your eyes again, and smashed that red button with your thumb.

You threw it on your desk with less care right after, and proceeded to ignore it.

Breathe in…

And…

Breathe out.

It was done.

You felt guilty about being so cold to that rare moment of Scaramouche’s vulnerability, but you couldn’t deny that feeling of joy in the back of your heart. After so many months worrying 24/7 about his mental health when his career was at its peak, and being pushed away like you were some stranger, being mistreated and insulted in your own ‘home’, having even more chores to do at home because of his laziness, looking at your wedding’s pictures and videos, wondering how did you two manage to grow so distant to each other, missing those dear moments of love you two shared during your entire story together… it gave you satisfaction to know that you did your part and that he was the one to throw your relationship away.

And of course your phone started vibrating again. You tried ignoring it, believing that it wouldn’t annoy you that much, but it quickly did, unlike your optimistic prediction. You stopped trying to calm yourself down only to hiss in stress and smash the red button of it again, only to find out he was also sending you messages.

And although you felt pleasure on making him hurt, it was quickly reverted to pure annoyance as you unlocked your phone and opened your ‘chat’ with him, the last messages being about your divorce.

Scaramouche

Y/N

Please

Answer me

You’ve seen the clip, didn’t you?

I know it must be everywhere

These were his previous messages he had sent before you answered him, and he was finally typing again.

Scaramouche

I’m sorry

I didn’t mean to call you that

I take it back

Let’s restart this conversation

Please

Please Y/N

You never realized how fast he was at it, or maybe you were just too mad at him.

You didn’t even mind reading what else he had to type, and decided to end the only connection you two had.

You clicked in the top area of the messenger, where his photo and call options were at.

A menu of other options appeared along with a big display of his profile picture.

The ‘Block’ button shone like gold to your eyes compared to the other white-colored ones.

Block

Do you wish to block Scaramouche?

Blocked contacts will not be able to call or send messages to you anymore. This action can be reversed.

Confirm Cancel

Click.

.

It was done.

Scaramouche officially had zero other ways to contact you in a legal way. He didn’t know your newest address or occupation, so he couldn’t reach and annoy you anymore with his stupidly late regret, right?

You regained your patience and placed your phone at your desk again, trying to avoid your own sense of regret, knowing you were going to make him lose it with that.

Was he really being serious about his regret? Or was this just the natural reaction to his poor decision-making skills? Even if he was being serious, would it be possible for you to forgive his actions and go back to normal? And if he was really just having an anxiety attack, why only now? What would’ve happened to you if you said ‘yes’ to whatever he intended to do? Would you just be heartbroken again?

Bad thoughts… just like that stupid song talks about.

He really hit the jackpot with that melody, didn’t he?

“Ms. Y/N?” You heard a familiar voice behind your door.

“C-Come in..!” You quickly wiped away your thoughts and stood up again to face… him.

“I…” He gently opened the door and paused to close it before continuing for the sake of privacy. “Kaveh told me what happened… I’m really sorry.” Kazuha immediately stepped closer to you to hug you.

Now that you two were alone, you two could be who you were, an unannounced couple, meaning that only you and him knew about it. It was dangerous to announce it yet due to your past relationship, but Kazuha was fully ok with it. Perhaps he even preferred it that way.

“No… it’s ok…” You hugged him back.

“Are you done talking to him?” You chuckled at how he already knew about you calling with him. Kaveh is seriously unable to keep gossip to himself.

You hesitated.

Are you actually done with Scaramouche?

“… Yes.” You still said it for the sake of your relationship with him.

But was it more worth than Scaramouche? That beautiful, creative, talented man that got you head over heels? Would Kazuha ever be able to recreate the thrill you felt with Scaramouche?

“Oh, honey…” Kazuha smooched your forehead smoothly. “Everything will be ok.” He embraced your body another time, forcing your nose to nuzzle on his shoulder.

Despite his passion for you and all the support he has been showing to your recovery and career, you still dared to ask yourself the question and betray Kazuha.

Should you stop seeing him? And maybe… go back to Scaramouche?

While Scaramouche, still sitting on that cold concrete floor, drooling and whimpering after some nauseous rounds of vomiting while feeling claustrophobic with the size of the bathroom stall in the backstage dared to betray all his years of investment on his career.

Was his career and all that fame worth the divorce?

Even if he wanted to ponder about it, unfortunately his investors were finally able to locate him and begun banging in his door, asking him to come out of the stall immediately and solve the catastrophe he had just created in that stage before the Internet spread his outrage everywhere without a favorable context to his dear career as a musician.

Taglist: @goofy-ego @the-stinky-winky @kindofshyent @alatusorrow @luminieee @shyentsfoundherink @bigmantiddys

Y’all thought you’d get a happy first day of the year and start the year fresh? Not anymore! But happy new year to everyone! ❤️

[hawkinsbnbg]

Steve was a ghost who haunted his best friend.

Steve had died in that interrogation room under Starcourt and now, he was stuck haunting Robin Buckley who might as well be his shortest heartbreak and long-lost twin.

The problem was she couldn't see or touch him.

No, she could hear him just fine, but physical contact was just impossible.

Steve, however, didn't care much so long as he had someone there to listen to his daily monologues. It was fun.

They bickered most of the time and while Robin always seemed sad that she couldn't hug him whenever he told her about his parents or how lonely he used to be before her, Steve was just happy with what he got.

Because even in death, he wasn't alone, and that was enough of a gift to him.

Then, the day his funeral was held, Steve was thankful that he had convinced Robin to attend considering it was how he reunited with the kids.

They all saw him.

A thing that Steve would never take for granted.

Robin didn't know what to do when they flocked around her and bombarded her with question after question, demanding to know why she was the one who got the privilege of being haunted by Steve.

"A privilege?" Robin burst into a laugh, giving them a ridiculous look.

"Of course, to think you've been haunted and actually having real conversations with a ghost every day is a revolutionary step into the spiritual science field," Dustin narrowed his eyes. "And I am very disappointed in you, Ms. Robin Buckley, for not telling me right away!"

"Just say you're jealous that Steve doesn't haunt you." Max rolled her eyes.

"You say it as if you're not jealous yourself!" Mike scowled at her.

"No, I'm not, you delusional nerd!" Max scowled back.

"Hey!"

"C'mon guys, don't fight," Lucas frowned and sighed in exasperation.

Noticing the odd looks from other people at the cemetery, Robin herded the kids into Steve's car that he had given her as a keepsake.

Once they were safely away from prying eyes, Robin clapped her hands to gather everyone's attention.

"Children!" She then continued under their curious gazes. "Steve-o here said he really appreciates that you munchkins care so much about him. But sadly, he can't leave my side. Like literally can't so if any of you want to see him, you can always seek me out whenever you see fit."

"Why are you saying all of this?" Mike squinted at her.

"Because Steve can't talk to us, obviously." Dustin responded haughtily, earning an eye roll from the other boy.

"Bingo!" Robin did a fist bump with Dustin.

Then, she held up a finger at them. "And before you ask, I can't see him. Or touch him."

She watched the kids look at the passenger seat before nodding at her.

It must be Steve who confirmed the truth, she thought.

As they went back to discussing Steve's incorporeal state, Robin had a feeling that she had unknowingly adopted a gaggle of troublesome ducklings who were going to give her grey hair very very soon.

"C'mon Robbie, it's a Halloween party," Steve begged. "Let's go have some fun! Don't your heart ache to watch your bestest friend rotting in sorrow while eating pumpkins?"

"First of all, I've never ever met anyone who uses 'heart' and 'ache' like that," Robin blew at her freshly painted nails.

"Well, now I'm your first. Didn't people always say special always come late?"

"I don't even want to correct you on all of that," Robin huffed quietly at Steve's goofy chuckle. "And no, Dingus, you don't eat pumpkins. Or if you do, I don't care."

"Please, Robbie, I just wanna have fun," Steve sighed dolefully. "It's been a long time ago since I went to a party." He sighed again and even sniffled a little.

When Robin groaned, a big grin stretched on his lips.

"Just this time." She narrowed her eyes at him, or precisely speaking, at the spot where she assumed he was sitting.

Sometimes, when she made a wrong guess, Steve would just move over to where her gaze stopped and continue talking her ears off.

"I promise you're gonna have so much fun, Robbie." Steve ruffled her hair even if his hand always passed right through her. It was still one of his hard-to-get-rid-of habits anyway.

By the time they arrived, the party was already full-blown and swarmed with people.

As Robin struggled her way through the crowd, Steve just walked beside her with barely any difficulties.

He bet she would curse him so much if she saw how comfortable he looked right now.

But then, his little moment of joy was cut short when he bumped into someone whose lips literally knocked against his.

As cliché as it might sound, he certainly felt the electricity running through his body from that single accidental kiss.

And belatedly, a realization dawned on him.

He had bumped right into someone.

He, a ghost, had bodily collided with a living human.

Shocked, Steve stepped back and was at a loss for what to do next.

Then, a shaky voice shook him out of his trance.

"Harrington?"

Staring into those scared Bambi's eyes, Steve clenched his jaw and forced himself to not panic.

"Munson."

[celestelunia]

Yk what would be sad. A Vil x GN!reader who keeps changing themselves because Vil keeps insulting everything about them (not on purpose) but he doesn’t realize what’s happening until they just stop talking to him all together because being with him hurts them too much. Nice ending maybe? (I’m a baby and can’t handle angst endings😭)

Hi! So sorry this took a while! Hope you've been well!

First time writing for Vil, but I tried my best lol. Hope you like it!

TW: self-esteem/image issues

"Straighten up"

"That color doesn't look good on you. Try something ligther."

"Hm. That clothing style isn't right. This just won't do."

"No. No. No. It's all wrong."

As you walked down the halls of NRC, you kept a couple of style magazines pushed up against your chest as your once bright eyes seemed darker and less happy.

Vil Schoenheit was someone you always admired, and when you were able to become a part of the rare few people who he considered a friend, you couldn't have been happier. You knew being next to someone like Vil wasn't going to be easier, but you never expected something on this level.

At first, it started with little words of improvement. Ones that you gladly took to help improve yourself, but over time, that's all you heard. Negative words on how you could do better. Look better. Nothing was very good enough, and now it was starting to ware you down. Suddenly, it felt like Vil was saying "you" weren't good enough.

At that thought, you came to a stop as you looked down at the magazines in your hands. It was all too much, and it was getting to the point that you couldn't even look at yourself in the mirror anymore. With a sigh, you turned and walked towards the nearest trash bin before you threw away the very magazines that had become your life.

A month had passed, and Vil was starting to wonder what was going on with you. You had slowly stopped coming by his room, attending meetings, and just having lunch together. At first, he figured it was because you got busy since he understood time restrictions and all, but after a couple of weeks, he felt like something was off.

The few times Vil saw you in the hallways the moment you caught his gaze, the model watched as you would turn and head in the opposite direction. It almost felt like you were avoiding him, but that couldn't be right?

......could it?

Over the last couple of weeks, you felt like you could breathe again, but despite that, you didn't feel happy. You couldn't bring yourself to talk to Vil, so you did the next best thing you could think of.

You avoided him.

And that alone was painful. You missed his voice, his company, and when you saw that look of surprise in his eyes when you obviously avoided him cause pain to shoot through your chest.

Despite all of these feelings, you knew the relationship you had with Vil wasn't healthy. You couldn't constantly keep up with his approval, and you wanted him to accept you for who you were.

Faults and all.

"Y/N."

Hearing the very voice you were thinking of calling out your name caused you to freeze. In that small moment, your fight or flight senses went off, but before you could make up your mind, you felt Vil grab your hand.

"Do you have a moment? I need to talk with you." Vil asked as he had noticed that look in your eyes that you might run, so he did his best to cut off your options to do so.

You paused as you considered his question. While you weren't ready to talk about this, you got the feeling you never would be, so you decided to just nod your head as the popular model led you towards his room for some privacy.

Once alone in Vil's room, you glanced around the familiar setting and scent.

"What's going on?" Vil asked, getting to the point.

At the question, you turned to look back at him without answering the question. You could feel that nasty and unpleasant bubble building up in the center of your chest. Did he really not know?

"You've been avoiding me, and I think it's only fair that you explain why." Vil said in his usual confidence.

Feeling that tightness in your chest, you wrapped your arms around yourself as you lowered your head.

"Y/N, if you slouch like that, it will be bad for-" Vil had started to say but stopped when he heard you mutter something. "Speak up. Muttering is very unbecoming."

"This!" You snapped, which caused the blonde to jump as he was startled by your sudden outburst. "The constant complaining and everything!"

Vil froze as he watched your beautiful [colored] eyes glare at him as fresh tears welled up in them.

"I'll never be good enough for you! Why can't you just accept me for who I am? I can't keep being with you as you constantly put me down!"

"Putting you down? I-" Vil said, surprised, but his words got cut off in his throat when he watched you storm over towards him.

"Maybe think a bit harder before you finish that sentence." You said as you told yourself you wouldn't apologize for getting your feelings out. "Not everyone is perfect, Vil. Not everyone can be like you....."

The model just started at you for a moment, but before he could speak, he watched as you walked past him and out of the room. Now alone, Vil just frowned. He had never seen you like this before, and your words echoed in his head.

He didn't put you down. He would never do something like that to you....right? You were the only person (outside of Rook) who he could be himself around. He adored your company...

Taking a deep breath, Vil left his room as he headed towards his vice housewarden room. If anyone could help him right now, it would be Rook.

The next day, you decided not to go to classes as you stayed crawled up on your bed. While you did feel better getting your feelings out, you felt sad at the fact that you might lose your friendship with Vil.

It was weird how the world "friendship" had changed for you over time as you started to notice a change in your feelings, but it wasn't something you were ready to drive into it.

Hearing a knock on your door, you let out a moan as you pulled your blankets over your head. "Go away." You called out as you figured it was one of your friends checking up on you. After a couple of seconds of silence, you thought they had left, but instead, you heard your door open. Holding back another groan, you kept yourself hidden, hoping your friend would get the message that you weren't in the mood to talk.

"Staying in and resting is important."

Instead of your friends voice, you heard Vil's as you suddenly sat up in your bed and removed the blanket from your head.

Standing in the room was Vil as he closed the door behind him.

"What are you doing here?" You ask as even you could hear the coldness in your tone.

"I came to talk." Vil said as he just smiled softly. "And to apologize."

At this, you gripped the blanket that was resting in your lap. Vil apologizing? That didn't sound right.

Noticing that you weren't moving to kick him out, Vil decided to continue. "I want to apologize for my words. I know it's not an excuse, but I didn't even notice I was saying those....things to you. Or how often."

While Vil was a proud man, he also wasn't that proud to lose someone important to him due to his own mistakes. After talking with Rook, he finally had a good understanding of how he had been treating you. "Perfection..." Vil said with a sigh as he looked off to the side of your room. "...is something that has been pushed on me since a young age, and it appears I've picked up a rather nasty habit. I never meant for my words to make you think you weren't good enough." He said as he walked over towards your bed and took a seat on the side of it. "You're already perfect enough. Just knowing I can be myself around you and knowing you won't judge my imperfections..." Vil said as he reached out and placed his hand over yours that was gripping your blanket.

"...It means the world to me, and I'm sorry for making you feel like you weren't good enough. I understand if you don't want to be around me anymore, but I wanted you to know I never once thought you weren't good enough."

At Vil's words, your eyes widen before you glance down at his hand resting over yours. It was like a weight had been lifted from your chest. "It hurt..." You whispered as you closed your eyes. "I just want to be with you and not to embarrass yo-"

Before you could finish your sentence, you felt Vil gently hand on the back of your head as he slowly pulled you forward into an embrace.

"You've never embarrassed me. I was just wanting what was best for you, and that ended up turning into nagging stepmother's territory." Vil said with a small smile as he tried to lighten the mood. "And I'm sorry I hurt you...."

With your forehead resting against Vil's chest, you let out a long sigh as you took in his warmth. Something about his scent and being next to him always helped you to relax.

"Do you forgive me?" The model asked bearly above a whisper. The longer the silence went, the more he was starting to worry you wouldn't.

"I do...." You said before pulling back to look at Vil. "...but I hold the right to punish you if you make me feel like this again." You said with a playful smile.

"Deal." Vil replied as he mirrored your smile. "I've already spoken with Rook, and I plan on being more mindful. I don't make the same mistake twice."

Taking in a deep breath, you nodded your head.

"Now." Vil said as he suddenly stood up from your bed. "I've cleared my schedule for the rest of the day. How about we watch a movie and catch up a bit?" He asked before holding out his hand to you.

Surprised that Vil cleared HIS schedule for you made that familiar warmth spread through your chest again as you smiled. How you've missed it. "Who am I to turn you down?" You teased softly as you reached out and placed your hand in his.

[roturo]

BAD IDEA, RIGHT?

INUMAKI TOGE X READER

SUMMARY: meeting up with your old friends sounded like a good idea, turns out lying and saying you and your ex ended up as a friends would include him there, so that was a bad idea of yours.

WARNINGS: unprotected sex, subspace, exes!to lovers, use of curse energy for sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, use of sign language, almost caught, after care, dacryphilia.

Life has been great.

Ever since you broke up with Inumaki things have been just fine. Both of you decided to end up as friends. Which might be awkward between the both of you but when you’re together around other people it wasn’t that bad.

You decided to focus on your training, even though it became a little bit too much to be at the same place with your ex… so you decided to live alone and start a new life. College is a new experience and it has been really fun! Training at home wasn’t as effective and efficient as training with Gojo-sensei and your friends… but, you felt more comfortable this way.

Some days you felt like exorcizing some curse and just walked through the city and found one.

Just for fun.

That’s what Maki told you. ‘Let’s hang out all of us together like the old times! Just for some fun!’

And everything was going great! But you never expected Yuuji to enter next to Inumaki into Maki’s room. You haven’t seen him in like four? six months? It’s been a while…

And to say he looked even more handsome than last time is understandable. Half a year and he grew up. He seemed taller than last time, his shoulders broader, and his hands…

You scold yourself for staring too long at him. His eyes locked with yours and a small awkward silence was in the room. But thankfully, Yuuji couldn’t tolerate silence and proposed to order some pizza and talk about how things have been.

You told them about your new friends at college, how you've been auto-training yourself, and how you felt like a new person.

Inumaki felt nostalgic. Watching you grow up and create a life without him made him sad. Thinking about the old times and how you talked to him for hours about having a family. How you stayed with him even if he couldn’t communicate himself like others, he loved you, and he missed you.

You missed him too, and when Maki asked if you were comfortable right now, even if your ex is literally like less than two meters in front of you, you said, ‘yeah! why not, we didn’t end on bad terms! can’t do people reconnect? I only see him as a friend.’

The biggest lie you ever said.

But the both of you knew those glance you gave each other, you needed the other… So when Maki accompanied Yuuji for the pizza you couldn’t control yourself.

And I mean like you couldn’t control yourself literally, he controlled you. He took his hands off.

‘Follow me.’

Your body was moving without your permission. Following Inumaki to what you assumed was his room. A tingly feeling dressed as nervousness was appearing in the low part of your tummy.

You felt anxious? excited? euphoric?

You missed him so much it was hurting, so when you got inside his room, thinking about if what’s going to occur was correct, you stared at your phone for some second before murmuring to yourself ‘fuck it, it’s fine’ —the first thing you did when you had control back was send a text to Maki.

‘I’m sleeping in another place.’ Maybe she’ll think you didn’t feel comfortable enough and needed to leave.

But maybe that’s not the case. You might sleep on someone else's sheets.

‘Inumaki…’

‘Shh… Undress yourself.’— You wanted to first kiss him, but he seemed eager to have you— and how could you say no? Maybe he wasn’t even controlling you and you were doing it for your own taste.

Feeling vulnerable in front of him— he grabbed you by the waist pulling you closer to his clothes body and started kissing you like a hungry man— You missed his touch and he missed yours.

Coming here wasn’t a bad idea… right?

Wrong.

Your body was sore and twitching of how many times he has made you cum. He’s been eating you out for hours now— with just one word making you cut whenever he felt like it. Making symbols on your pussy of what you suppose it’s his curse marks— Your eyes were full of tears, vision blurry and feeling dizzy.

‘N-no more ‘Inu..’

‘Osaka ‘ Was all he said, keeping a straight face before watching you before continuing eating you out— ‘Squirt.’ Your body shook before your vision turned black and everything felt a thousand times more— his fingers inside of you, slurping your fluids out of you. It was a disgusting mess— but he loved watching you turn into a mess thanks to him. It was his mess.

He never abused so much of his power on you, but this time it was different. He needed you, he wanted you.

Once he felt he got enough of your poor and used pussy, he got up— Watching you trying to keep your eyes open. Makeup ruined, hair tangled and tears coming down your eyes. You felt fucked out— feeling sore on parts of your body you never thought could get sore. Trying to plead for your sanity was met with deaf ears.

He started unbuckling his belt, and turned his middle and ring finger down, making the sign ‘I love you’ before signaling he missed you so much and needed you. Sign language was a common thing between the both of you because of his cursed technique. Just a few words, because it’s like destiny brought the two of you together because in some ways you always knew what the other needed.

He teased your cunt with his dick before inserting it in. You were on missionary, him on top of you while he admired the mess you became. He thrusted inside of you with no warning, your fucked up pussy with no need to make it even more sensitive for you to cum, he just started searching for his release.

When he watched you not even being able to say coherent words, tears just streaming down your face, your eyes almost closed and moans coming out of your mouth was enough for him to cum inside of you. The fucked up image of you— thanks to him— will be forever engraved in his mind. He needs you, he needs to be back together.

He groaned at the feeling of your cunt hugging his cock once he came, his body shaking before laying down beside you. Heavy breathings filling the room, he looked back at you and found you staring at him too. A smile adorned his face, moving his body so he could hug yours— playing with your hair and giving you small pecks he heard a knock on his door. 

He supposed you’re still in a subspace and grabbed his boxers, slightly opening the door so only his face was visible— a confused blushed Yuuji was in front of his door. ‘Inumaki, the pizza is here. We can’t find Y/N though… Do you know where she is?…’

‘Go with Maki.’ Were the words he let out, Yuuji’s body moved without his permission, leaving him alone. 

He looked behind and saw you taking small breaths, your chest going up and down— He smiled to himself, before he grabbed a warm cloth and and started cleaning you up— He searched for some candy he used to have in his room since you were always craving them, he grabbed one water bottle too and repositioned you so your now resting on his pillows. He sat next to you, playing with your hair, waiting till you came back to reality.

Once you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was Inumaki staring at you— Eyes full of love while he played with your hair. You moved so your body was not sitting on his bed, you noticed you’re wearing one of his t-shirts and your panties— You supposed he put them on, he touched your arm and gave you some water and your favorite candy. You looked back at him— surprised he still had some of them here, you smiled at him and drank some water.

You didn’t notice he grabbed a notebook and was writing something until he gave it to you.

‘Can we get back together? You’re all I need, all I love. I would kill any curse, person, thing who tries to hurt you, everything… just to have you back in my arms.’