#the other .. no idea where i stand on that one

[aesthetically-dying101]

Wifed up

A/N: im trying this type of thing out, but what happens if the JJk men saw you without your wedding ring? (tbf, im sure this has been done by others before, i sure as hell aren't the first to write this, won't be the last.)im genuinely so scared of posting this lmfao, okay but anyways

Characters: Nanami, Gojo, Geto, Toji, Sukuna, Shiu. (in said order)

Nanami:

Nanami almost got whiplash when he noticed the ring—your wedding ring, for heaven’s sake—wasn’t on your finger.

But when he stepped through the door of your shared home, grocery bags in one hand, jacket slung over his arm, and caught sight of your bare hand…well, he nearly dropped the tomatoes.

It wasn’t like him to jump to conclusions—he prided himself on logic, on maturity. But standing in the doorway of your shared home, the scent of vanilla and butter wafting through the air, his heart skipped a beat for all the wrong reasons. He could see you through the archway leading into the kitchen, flour dusting your forearms, a faint smear of chocolate on your cheek.

You looked radiant, as always. But the empty space on your left hand? That detail stood out sharper than a curse in a crowd.

Nanami’s mind, traitorous for the first time in years, whispered an awful thought: Was she hiding it? Why? What if she’s inviting someone else over while I’m at work?

He hated the thought. Hated that it even crossed his mind. But he was only human—humans with hearts could be irrational, especially when they cared so deeply.

The seconds stretched, but his mind was already racing. His rational side kicked in almost immediately, reminding him that you were probably just taking it off while baking—something harmless, right? You’ve always done that. It’s just a ring.

But... It had been a conversation in the office that kept nagging at him all week. His coworker—someone he’d known for years—had just found out that his wife of ten years had been cheating on him. The betrayal had rocked him to his core, and for the last few days, Nanami had been wondering how something like that could happen. His mind lingered on the idea that a partner could hide something so big, and the doubt, for just a second, crawled into his own relationship. What if you were hiding it too?

He shook his head. Get a grip, Kento. Still, he couldn’t quite quell the question lingering at the edge of his thoughts.

“Y/N,” he called softly, stepping closer.

You turned, a bright smile lighting up your face.

“You’re home early!” you exclaimed, wiping your hands on your apron.

“I am,” he replied, voice steady, though his sharp eyes didn’t miss the bare ring finger you so casually flaunted. “Where’s your ring?”

Your eyes widened in realization.

“Oh, that!” You laughed, waving a hand dismissively. “I took it off while baking. Didn’t want to get dough all over it. It’s right over there.”

You pointed to the windowsill by the sink, where sure enough, both your engagement and wedding rings sat neatly side by side.

Relief flooded him so fast it almost made him dizzy. He nodded, keeping his tone light. “I see. I suppose I should’ve known you wouldn’t be that careless with it.”

“Careless?” You scoffed, playfully offended. “I’m meticulous, thank you very much.”

He smiled faintly, his heart settling back into its usual rhythm. You stepped closer, your grin turning mischievous. Before he could react, your flour-dusted hand slapped his backside with an audible smack.

Nanami froze, incredulous, as you dissolved into laughter.

“There,” you declared between giggles. “I marked my territory. Now wash your hands and help me.”

Nanami followed you after gently folding his jacket over a chair and loosening his tie. He slipped off his own wedding ring and set it carefully beside yours on the counter before rolling up his sleeves. For the next hour, the two of you moved seamlessly, kneading dough and rolling croissants together. The air filled with the warmth of the oven and the soft melody of your laughter.

By the time the pastries were golden and flaky, Nanami leaned against the counter, his hand resting on your lower back. The soft touch quickly turned into something more as his lips brushed your temple, then your cheek. You turned to meet him halfway, mouths molding together in a kiss that deepened quickly, his hands firm against your waist.

Nanami’s lips were warm and urgent against yours, every brush of his mouth sending a shiver down your spine. His hands, once gently resting on your waist, now gripped you tighter, pulling you flush against him as your body aligned in all the right ways.

You could feel the heat building between you, your chest pressed against his as your hands worked on the button of his shirt with determination, your fingers fumbling only slightly as you pushed him further against the counter. He groaned against your lips when you tugged at his tie, undoing it with quick, practiced movements.

“Someone’s eager,” he teased, his voice low and rough, but the words disappeared as your lips traced the edge of his jaw-his perfect jaw, your teeth grazing the sensitive skin of his neck.

“I’ve been waiting all day,” you murmured, hands sliding down to the waistband of his pants. His breath hitched when you unbuckled his belt and slid your hand inside, brushing against him with the kind of intention that made him gasp, his body instinctively bucking into your touch.

You grinned against his skin, the heat of the moment clouding your mind. This wasn’t just about passion—it was about claiming him, showing him with every touch that he was the only one. You slid your hand lower, your fingers grazing him with a teasing pressure that made his breath quicken.

“You’re the only man I need, Nanami Kento,” you whispered, meeting his eyes as you pulled him closer, grinding your hips against his. The friction had your pulse racing, a primal need building in the pit of your stomach.

His hands gripped your hips, pulling you even tighter against him as he kissed you again, this time with a desperation that matched yours. His lips were insistent, almost possessive, as his hands slipped under your shirt, his thumbs brushing against your skin in a way that made you shiver.

The air was thick with heat, your body aching with want, when suddenly—

DING!

The oven timer went off.

You both froze.

The croissants.

“Oh no—!”

You shoved away from him with a frustrated gasp, already heading toward the kitchen, but not before you shot him a glance. “You’re so distracting!”

Nanami watched you, his chest rising and falling as he tried to steady his breath. His eyes darkened with amusement, and he chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

"We'll finish this later, don't worry."

Gojo

Gojo’s feet dragged heavily as he entered the apartment, the door clicking shut behind him with a soft, final sound. The weight of the mission still hung over him—bones aching, mind buzzing with residual adrenaline.

He didn’t want to think about the cursed spirits he'd just fought or the cursed techniques he'd barely been able to avoid using in full force. All he wanted now, all he craved, was the soft familiarity of home.

And you.

His wife.

There you were—curled up on the couch, your form relaxed and peaceful, your face lit by the flickering light of the TV screen. It looked like you'd fallen asleep while watching something, your body sinking into the cushions, soft and beautiful.

But then—

His eyes narrowed.

His eyes immediately fell to your left hand.

Empty.

No wedding ring. No engagement band.

His heart skipped a beat. For a moment, the rest of the world disappeared. The weight of exhaustion, the tightness in his chest, everything—it all vanished in the face of that empty ring finger. His mind instantly went blank, and then... panic.

Where the hell is it?

A thousand questions shot through his head at once, each one more suffocating than the last. His mouth went dry, and he stepped closer to you, his mind reeling. It didn’t make sense. You’d always worn your rings, no matter what.

During the mission he hadn't used his Six Eyes and scan everything in the house, to check on you, but.... He’d been distracted. Too focused on that cursed mission, on the job, on things he shouldn’t have let slip.

His eyes flicked back to your hand, that empty space where your ring should have been. His mind spiraled further into dark thoughts.

She... She took it off? But why?

His heart thudded painfully in his chest. Was this it? Had it finally happened? Was this the moment when everything changed? When you... left him?

He couldn't breathe. He couldn’t think.

Did she meet someone else?

His pulse quickened at the thought. He wanted to scream, to shout, but the silence around him felt suffocating. Every step closer to the couch felt like a thousand pounds pulling him down. He stopped in front of you, staring at your unconscious form, the way you seemed so... peaceful, like everything was fine.

But it wasn’t.

What the hell is going on?

It was almost like a switch had flipped inside him—like something deep within him, something raw and protective, had been triggered. His anger, his fear—it boiled over. It had to be something. She wasn’t just going to forget her rings.

His voice was low, rough, as he bent down close to you, his tone colder than he meant it to be.

"Hey," he said, almost a hiss. "What the fuck is going on?"

His heart clenched at the coldness of his own words, but his fear was all-consuming. He needed answers. Now.

You stirred, your eyelids fluttering open at the sound of his voice, but it was the confusion in your gaze that stopped him for a second. For just a moment, it was like the anger and fear drained out of him, replaced with a spike of guilt. This wasn’t the way to approach you. He wasn’t supposed to be... scaring you. But he couldn’t help it.

What if I’m losing her?

You blinked up at him, your vision still blurry from sleep, but the panic in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed.

"Satoru...?" Your voice was soft, laced with that sweet, familiar confusion he loved. The panic in his eyes, the intensity in the way he stared down at you—it wasn’t the Gojo you were used to. He looked almost... unhinged.

Your heart thudded in your chest as you pushed yourself up slowly, feeling the exhaustion still clinging to your body. There was a fleeting second of fear that rose in you—this wasn’t how he usually acted.

What’s going on?

The man who had always been the first to laugh in the face of danger, the man who could break down any barrier with a joke or a smile, was now standing there—almost trembling. This was no playful teasing. No, there was something else in the way his body stiffened, the way his voice cracked with uncertainty.

His voice was a harsh, cold rasp as he bent down closer, demanding answers he wasn’t sure he wanted.

“What the fuck is going on?” He tried to keep his voice from trembling, "Where’s your ring?"

"Huh? What are you talking about?" Your hand instinctively went to your finger, but it was bare. You frowned. "Oh..." The fog of sleep was lifting now, and the look on his face was making your heart race.

But before you could even say anything else, Gojo’s eyes narrowed, and he straightened up, suddenly tense.

"I’m not playing games, [Y/N]." He could feel the anger bubbling up again, his breath coming faster. "What the hell is going on? You’ve been in this house, and now you’re not wearing it? Are you seriously gonna tell me it’s some accident?" He gestured wildly, his frustration impossible to hide.

You recoiled slightly, caught off guard by his tone. The fear in his voice, the desperation that edged every word, it hit you hard. He was scared.

But you could feel it, too. You could feel the rage he was hiding beneath his frustration, the doubt gnawing at him, the belief that something was wrong—that he wasn’t good enough to keep you.

The thought almost made you ache. You couldn’t believe he’d think that. Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer, so terrified that his wife had... what? Cheated on him?

"Gojo," you whispered, your voice trembling. "I didn’t—I didn’t take it off for any reason like that." You looked at him, trying to calm his rapid breath. "I was cleaning the bathroom earlier... with bleach. I didn’t want to risk damaging the rings, so I took them off and put them in a little dish in there while I worked. I... I must’ve forgotten to put them back on after I collapsed on the couch."

The explanation was so simple, so mundane, that Gojo felt an overwhelming rush of relief flood through him. He closed his eyes and sank back onto the couch, rubbing his face with both hands.

You were just tired.

You hadn’t been out with someone else. You hadn’t thrown away everything they’d built together.

His mind had created a monster out of nothing. He had jumped to conclusions because he was weak, scared of losing the only person who mattered. He wasn’t used to this kind of vulnerability, and yet, here he was, completely unraveling over the thought of you slipping away from him.

"God," he muttered, voice breaking slightly. "I thought you... I thought I wasn’t enough for you. That maybe you'd—"

"Stop," you cut him off, pulling him close with a soft tug on his shirt. You pressed your forehead to his chest, feeling the tension in his shoulders. "Don’t even think that, Satoru." You wrapped your arms around him, grounding him. "You’re my everything. I wouldn’t throw that away."

Gojo’s arms tightened around you, his face buried in your hair as he exhaled a shaky breath. For a moment, neither of you said anything. Just the sound of your breathing and the rhythmic beat of your hearts.

When he finally pulled back, he cupped your face gently, his blue eyes searching yours with a mix of relief and affection. A small smile tugged at his lips.

"Next time," he said softly, almost shyly, "just leave a note. Like, ‘I’m cleaning and definitely not inviting other men over,’ so I don’t go insane."

You rolled your eyes playfully, but you couldn’t help but laugh. "Yeah, I’ll do that."

Gojo pulled you back into his arms, this time much softer, as if the whole world could melt away in this moment. He could feel his heart finally steadying. You were here, you were safe. The rest of it didn’t matter.

He kissed the top of your head, whispering softly, "Just promise me one thing, okay?"

You looked up at him.

"Never scare me like that again."

You smiled, a soft, sleepy smile, and nodded.

"I promise."

Geto:

The last thing on your mind was the delicate gold band around your finger, the symbol of your marriage to Geto, which you had carefully removed so as not to get it covered in dirt.

Geto paced through the entrance, his brow furrowed with a mixture of frustration and curiosity. After being away on business for a few days, the first thing he was told upon his return was that something had happened with you—his wife—and that you weren’t wearing your wedding rings.

Before he could utter a word, one of his cult followers had nervously approached him, eyes wide with anxiety.

"Master Geto... We... we noticed the absence of her rings. The lady—"

"Where is she?" he snapped, his voice low, yet carrying an unsettling edge.

His follower hesitated for just a second before pointing toward the garden. "She's there, with your daughters."

Geto’s heart skipped a beat. He clenched his fists, a flood of emotions threatening to overtake him. Did you really... no, he refused to believe it. You couldn't be removing your rings over something so trivial.

He strode quickly, irritation bubbling beneath his calm exterior. As he reached the garden, the sight before him stopped him in his tracks.

There you were, kneeling on the soft earth, laughing as his daughters ran circles around you, their giggles filling the air. You were covered in dirt from working in the garden all day.

You glanced up and saw him standing there, eyes dark with unspoken words. He was staring at you with a strange intensity.

“Suguru,” you said, wiping dirt from your cheek, and then you noticed the look in his eyes. His pupils were dilated, hands gripping the edge of the stone wall with white-knuckled intensity. “What’s the matter?”

His gaze dropped to your bare fingers before snapping back to your face.

"Why are you not wearing your rings?" he asked, his tone colder than usual.

You blinked. The question caught you off guard, and a wave of amusement flooded over you.

“What?” you asked, incredulity mixed with humor. "I just didn’t want to get them dirty. I’ve been in the garden all day with the girls.”

His eyes narrowed in disbelief. "You think I care about that?" His voice rose a little, frustration bubbling to the surface. "You don't understand... how much it means to me—"

You stood up slowly, brushing your hands off and laughing softly. “Suguru, calm down. You’re acting like I’ve sold the rings for magic potions or something,” you teased, holding them out to him with a playful grin.

The sudden tension in the air seemed to break with your words. He stared at the rings, then back at you, his expression wavering between annoyance and relief. He wasn’t sure whether to be mad or laugh at himself for overreacting.

But when you walked toward him, digging in your pocket, then placing the rings back on his hand with an amused smirk, he couldn’t help but release a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His arms pulled you into a tight embrace, his chin resting against the top of your head.

"I was worried, okay?" he muttered. "I've done so much for you, and I... I couldn’t figure out what was going on."

You snorted, wrapping your arms around him. "You’re a disaster sometimes, you know that?"

"I’m just... protective," he mumbled, his voice now laced with a touch of vulnerability.

"You’re sweet," you said, smiling up at him, "but a little too protective for your own good sometimes."

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the small, tender smile from forming on his lips.

“I can’t help it when it comes to you... And these,” he added, tapping the rings, “are more important than you realize.”

You chuckled softly, your fingers tracing the edges of his rings.

"I know, Suguru. But I’m not going anywhere. I just didn’t want to ruin them in the dirt. I still love you just as much."

His hands gently cupped your face as he gazed down at you. “I know. But if you ever take them off again, make sure I’m there when you do."

You raised an eyebrow. “You want to be the one to take them off for me?” you teased.

A smile tugged at his lips. “Maybe I’ll start taking them off myself, then.”

You laughed, reaching up to kiss him lightly on the lips. His arms tightened around you, the world outside of the garden fading into the background.

Your laugh echoed in the air, soft and sweet, as the tension between you melted into a comfortable warmth. Suguru leaned his forehead against yours, his breath a little ragged from the release of his worries.

"You're impossible, you know that?" you whispered, pressing your lips against his.

"Only when it comes to you," he replied softly, his smile genuine and fond. "But I love you anyway."

Toji:

It was a late afternoon when Toji returned home, exhausted but relieved to be done with another job. He stepped into the quiet apartment, the faint smell of Megumi’s favorite snacks still lingering in the air. It had been a good day for the boy, he’d told Toji earlier that he’d had fun at the park with you.

Toji was just about to toss his jacket aside and relax when something on the bathroom counter caught his eye. His wedding ring. But... not hers. Her band was sitting alone next to the sink, glinting in the dim light, empty.

His heart skipped a beat.

His stomach twisted. He couldn’t breathe for a second.

He picked up her ring, turning it over in his hands as if some answer would magically appear. But nothing came. The silence in the bathroom was suffocating, and his chest began to tighten as his mind spiraled into chaos.

She wouldn't... But the thought was there, like a seed growing inside him.

Shit. Not again.

It had happened once before—his ex, the woman who had broken his trust in ways that still haunted him. That memory burned his skin like acid as the anger surged through him. He could feel the old rage coming back, the bitterness of betrayal cutting deeper than ever before.

He paced in a circle, trying to make sense of it. His mind raced—had she really gone that far? Were they just another statistic, another couple destroyed by his own mistrust? He couldn’t imagine it. Not with her.

But there it was: the absence of her ring. What else was he supposed to think?

His hands trembled as he grabbed his phone, fists clenching around it as he typed out a text to Shiu: She’s gone. I fucking knew it. Packing. She’s been seeing someone else.

The words were harsh, but they felt right in the moment. The ring was gone, the reminder of what they had was now nothing but a cruel joke. He stormed into the bedroom, ripping open the closet doors. His mind was working too fast to think straight—he started shoving clothes into a bag, his chest tight. He should have never trusted her. Never allowed himself to be vulnerable.

He allowed her to become a stepmother to Megumi, let her get close to his son. And now, this. How could I be so stupid? he thought bitterly.

Toji’s blood boiled, and his mind spiraled further into the pit of grief and disbelief. He’d let his guard down, let her become a part of his life, a part of his family, and now this? He slammed a fist against the wall, shaking with fury.

An hour passed. He didn’t care. The world outside continued as usual, but in here, in his heart, everything was falling apart. He couldn’t do this again. He wasn’t going to let someone else ruin him.

Then, the sound of the door clicking open interrupted his spiral.

He turned, eyes wild, ready to unleash all of his pent-up rage.

And then he saw you. Megumi was holding your hand, looking at him confused, but his gaze didn’t linger long on the kid.

“Is everything okay?” she asked cautiously, eyeing the half-packed bag by the door.

"Where the hell is your ring?" Toji's voice was low, laced with the venom he was trying to suppress. He crossed his arms over his chest, staring her down. "Where's your fucking wedding ring?"

She blinked at him. "What?"

Toji's glare didn’t soften, and he lifted her ring from the counter, letting it dangle between his fingers. "I thought we were past this bullshit. Thought you’d at least have the decency to—"

She deadpanned, and without a word, raised her hand to his face. His eyes followed her hand, expecting some gesture of defiance, some excuse. But then he froze, seeing the bandaged pinky and ring finger on her hand, the fabric wrapped tightly in place.

Her gaze was flat, her voice devoid of humor as she stated, “I didn’t want to lose my damn finger. It’s swollen, and I couldn’t take the risk of it getting worse. I thought you’d be worried about that.”

Toji stared at her hand, feeling the rage that had consumed him moments before start to fade, replaced by a dull ache in his chest.

“You—” He couldn’t even form a coherent sentence. He dropped her ring back onto the counter, as if the weight of it suddenly felt too much.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, his head lowering, suddenly feeling like a fool. His fists unclenched, and he rubbed the back of his neck. He couldn’t even look you in the eyes right now, but his voice cracked with regret. “I thought... I thought you were—”

"Cheating on you?" You finished the sentence for him with a quiet, amused tone, raising an eyebrow. You slowly walked over to him, your expression softening.

“Yeah,” he said, unable to hide the embarrassment in his voice. “I fucked up, huh?”

You chuckled, shaking your head.

“Toji... really? You thought I was gonna leave?” You scoffed and rolled your eyes, “I’ll make you dinner, okay? Just... next time, try asking before packing your bags.”

He let out a defeated sigh, finally lifting his eyes to meet yours. “Yeah, yeah. I overreacted. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You kissed him... which quickly turned into more, until:

"Ew."

You broke the kiss, laughing lightly.

Sukuna:

It was an ordinary day at the palace—at least, that’s what it seemed like. The sun streamed through the large paper windows, casting a soft light on the traditional tatami mats, where you were seated, diligently working on your calligraphy with Uraume. The brush glided over the paper as the delicate strokes formed beautiful characters, ink staining the tips of your fingers as you focused.

Your wedding ring, that simple yet precious band that bound you to the King of Curses, was nowhere to be seen. It was placed on the nearby wooden table to avoid smudging ink on its gleaming surface.

Sukuna’s voice broke the silence.

"Where is it?"

The low, thunderous tone could only mean one thing: Sukuna was furious. His eyes—four of them—narrowed as they scanned you, focusing on your left hand where the ring should’ve been. His breath quickened as the pressure in the room thickened.

Uraume, sensing the tension, stepped back slowly, not daring to make a sound. You, however, remained seated, doing your best to hide the small smile tugging at your lips. You couldn’t help it—Sukuna? Jealous? Oh, this was going to be entertaining.

"What are you talking about?" you asked innocently, not lifting your gaze from the ink-stained paper.

"The ring, woman," Sukuna growled. "You know exactly what I mean. Where is it?" His voice shook with a barely contained fury as he approached.

You could almost feel the heat radiating off of him. The air around him crackled with murderous intent, but it was impossible to ignore the mix of frustration and… confusion? Ah, he didn’t know what to think, and that only made it funnier.

"I left it off for now," you replied casually, trying to mask your amusement. "I didn’t want to get ink on it while I was working with Uraume."

"Don’t lie," Sukuna hissed, his four arms crossing tightly in front of him. "You’re telling me you, a lowly human, can’t even remember where you left your precious wedding ring?" His voice was cutting, sharp as a blade.

You almost snorted, but you swallowed the laugh just in time. Oh, Sukuna really was something else when he was jealous. The sheer audacity of him to think you’d even remotely be unfaithful was beyond hilarious.

You stood up slowly, turning to face him as he loomed over you like an ominous cloud. His eyes were wild, like he was ready to destroy everything in his path.

"Is that why you’re so upset?" you teased, the corners of your mouth curling up. "You really think I would take off my ring to… go play around with someone else?"

Sukuna’s gaze flickered. His four arms twitched as if to lash out at you, but he held himself back. The tension in the air was suffocating.

"Don’t play with me," he growled, his voice dripping with venom. "What kind of fool do you think I am?"

You couldn’t help yourself anymore. The laughter bubbled up inside you, and you laughed, covering your mouth as you did so. Sukuna stared at you, his eyes burning with confusion and fury. He looked like a king who’d just been betrayed, but somehow even more terrifying in that moment.

"Oh, come on," you teased further, walking up to him and standing on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. "You didn’t seem to think I was a ‘lowly human’ a couple of days ago when you were pounding into me like a savage."

Sukuna’s eyes widened in surprise, and his face turned a shade darker, his body stiffening with rage.

"Don’t you dare," he spat, his four arms reaching out and grabbing you by the waist with a force that would make most humans break. But you? You weren’t just any human. You were his human.

"And now you’re talking about it?" he demanded, his voice dangerously low. "You’re trying to make me look like a fool, huh?"

Despite his anger, you couldn’t suppress your grin.

"You’re the one who’s acting like a fool, Sukuna. Jealousy doesn’t suit you."

His eyes narrowed further, but he didn’t admit he was wrong. No, he wouldn’t do that. Instead, with one swift motion, he picked you up, his grip unyielding. His four arms surrounded you, holding you close.

"You’re lucky I don’t kill every single person in this palace for daring to let you out of my sight without that damn ring on your finger," he muttered through gritted teeth.

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly. The fact that Sukuna—the Sukuna—was losing his temper over something as trivial as a ring was almost too ridiculous. Almost.

"All this over a ring?" you asked, raising an eyebrow, still smiling. "Really, Sukuna? You almost killed everyone because I took off my ring for a couple of hours?"

He didn’t respond, but his grip tightened around you, lifting you effortlessly and carrying you toward your shared quarters. As he walked, you wrapped your arms around his neck, not able to stop the teasing smile on your face.

"You’re kind of cute when you're jealous, you know that?" you teased, nuzzling his neck lightly.

Sukuna’s eyes flickered to you, the hint of a growl rumbling in his chest, but he didn’t say anything. The king of curses was undeniably a jealous man, even if he refused to admit it.

And when he finally laid you down on the futon in your quarters, his hands were soft—almost gentle—as he placed a hand on your cheek, his expression still dark but… not as angry as before.

"I’m not going to let you out of my sight again," he murmured, eyes burning with possessiveness. "You’re mine."

You smiled, reaching up to touch his face. "I’m yours," you whispered back.

And just like that, all the tension in the air seemed to melt away, leaving only the comfort of being together.

Shiu:

Shiu Kong was not a man prone to sentimental gestures or overt displays of affection. His love was quiet, steady, and often hidden beneath his sharp tongue and stern demeanor. But he was observant—painfully so. It was this keen eye for detail that had always served him well in his work. Today, however, it left him grappling with a tight knot of unease that coiled around his chest like a curse.

You hadn’t been wearing your wedding ring.

Shiu noticed it that morning when he passed you in the kitchen. You were distracted, bustling around with your usual energy, and when you handed him his coffee, his sharp eyes caught the faint, bare line on your finger.

No glint of the ring he’d placed there.

It wasn’t like you to forget something like that. Shiu wasn’t the type to jump to conclusions, but the thought nagged at him throughout the day. The image of your bare hand replayed in his mind as he handled the paperwork on his desk, and when the hours dragged on, so did his thoughts.

Were you upset about something? Did the ring bother you? Or—no, that was ridiculous—was it deliberate?

His workday felt endless. By the time he stepped into the apartment, his shoulders were tight with tension. Shiu kicked off his shoes and loosened his tie, his heart heavier than he cared to admit.

“Hey,” you called from the kitchen, bright and cheerful. “You’re home! Dinner’s almost ready.”

He stepped into the room, leaning casually against the doorframe. But you knew him too well to miss the way his brow furrowed or the faint stiffness in his posture.

“You okay?” you asked, tilting your head.

Shiu’s lips pressed into a thin line. He never shied away from confrontation, but this… he wasn’t sure how to phrase it. Still, he was Shiu Kong, and hesitation wasn’t in his nature.

“You weren’t wearing your ring this morning,” he said bluntly, his voice even but laced with an edge of something vulnerable.

You blinked, startled, before looking down at your hand as if just realizing the absence yourself. “Oh!” You quickly held up both hands, palms open. “It’s not what you think. I took them to the jeweler to get cleaned today. I didn’t want to forget and leave them on, so I took them off last night.”

His gaze softened, the tension in his shoulders easing as he exhaled a slow, almost imperceptible breath. “That’s it?”

“Of course that’s it!” you said, laughing. “What, did you think I was mad at you or something?”

Shiu clicked his tongue, his usual deadpan expression returning, though the faintest flicker of relief danced in his eyes. “Tch. You could’ve mentioned it. I’m not a mind reader, you know.”

You stepped closer, reaching for his hand and squeezing it with a warm smile. “Sorry, I didn’t think it’d be such a big deal. I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

You winked and he grumbled something under his breath, but his fingers curled around yours, holding on just a little tighter than usual.

Later that night, when you slipped the ring back onto your finger and flashed it proudly at him, Shiu allowed himself the barest smirk. He didn’t say anything, of course, but the way his hand lingered on your back when he walked past spoke volumes.

Maybe he wasn’t the romantic type, but damn if he didn’t love seeing that ring on your finger.

A/N: oki so this was an attempt, i dunno if this is any good but hey, you live you learn

Masterlist

:)

[robo-writing]

So that idea you had with 70s Logan being selfish while eating you out... could we get an expansion?

*cracks knuckles* let’s get into it

Logan loves pussy, short and sweet. His problem is that he loves it a little too much.

It makes for a great time with whatever lucky lady he’s got in his bed (or the couch. Or the kitchen.) but it also means that it’s going to be quite a while before he tires himself, if that even happens. Where his younger self differs is that he’s firmly rooted in his “I don’t need meaningful relationships” attitude so if he’s bringing someone to bed, it’s for one thing and one thing only.

He’s got an urge to satisfy, and you just so happened to be the nearest thing around.

That isn’t to say he’s a total asshole; he tells you up front not to expect anything more than what he’s offering, and if you don’t take his advice? That’s all on you. His deal is a simple one, take it or leave it.

Now, assuming you accept, you’ll be happy to know that he can talk the talk and walk the walk—that is to say, he’ll have your legs shaking within the first five minutes guaranteed. Something about his enthusiasm is half the show, the other half is how adamant he is about keeping his lips glued to your pussy.

Over and over again you cum—your weeping cunt crying out against his fingers, his smug grin as you beg him for a break—only to be met with the sounds of his tongue flicking at your clit. Your hands tug at his hair, begging him to stop, trying your damndest to wiggle free from his iron hold but he doesn’t budge in the slightest. If anything at all your movement just annoys him further, and in turn, makes him take out his anger on your sensitive cunt.

“Stop fucking movin’” he muffles against your sex, but it’s easier said than done. Even when you slap against his arms he doesn’t flinch, instead opting to glare at you from below while his fingers scissor you open.

“Stop being fuckin’ difficult—“ he starts, growling out when tears start streaming down your face. It’s immediately met with a slap to your puffy cunt, the shock of it sending you reeling forward.“Don’t whine, you asked for this.”

You want to argue, tell him you asked for a one night stand and not a torture session—unfortunately for you, your brain cells leak from your ears every time his beard scratches between your thighs.

And then, somewhere between the long-drawn out agony of your nerves being lit on fire is the smallest ember of pleasure. An echo, and then a roar, a spark that turns into a roaring fire and then something just clicks.

All of a sudden you’re going from stop, Logan, I can’t to yes, more, please between what little semblance of sanity you can muster.

The sudden change in attitude makes him grin. “Told you you’d enjoy yourself.”

[gyaruhana]

Can you do a smut fic where readers dating thanos and she nearly dies in red light green light, and they realise how dangerous the games are and fuck like it’s their last night together? Im talking pure need and lust, desperation after realising the stakes of the squid games

Thanos / Choi Su-bong - I love you

Synopsis: After witnessing so much death and realizing you may both be next, you decide to fuck in the bathroom.

A/N: combined this with two other requests asking for bathroom sex.. i hope that was okay !! also not entirely proof read..

Warnings: smut content, fingering, praise, he's more gentle tbh

You had never feared death before. It always seemed so far away and it was the least of your concerns considering the debt you and your boyfriend, Thanos, share after betting it all on some coin a youtuber recommended. Never once in your life had you thought you would actually die. You always imagined that you'd die at an old age in a fancy house- maybe even with a kid or two. Point is, you didn't think about death because you really didn't see any need to.

Until today that is. 

You and your boyfriend had come across a great opportunity to earn lots of won by playing a few games. Considering you had already earned quite a bit from a game of ddakji, it was a no-brainer to agree to a few games. At the time, it didn't seem suspicious because the salesman who offered the card to you had given you plenty of won without a catch. 

Although you were knocked out with a gas when you entered the designated car together and practically kidnapped, neither of you thought anything about it- too excited at the idea of making money to pay off your debt with a few games. Any money goes a long way to finally paying off your debt so you can focus on getting your dream life.

Idiotically enough, you also didn't find any suspicion in the guy yelling something about how you'll be shot if you move. It actually made you and Thanos laugh at the ridiculousness of it as you both assumed he was just some drunk making up shit to scare people. How wrong the both of you were.

By the time everyone had made it to the halfway mark with plenty of time to spare, Thanos saw a bee land on some girl and made a comment about it. The girl immediately let out a scream and moved to try to get the bee off of her. It was amusing to watch until the sound of a gunshot rang through the air and her body fell to the floor. 

The smile on both your faces dropped immediately as blood pooled around her now-dead body. You and Thanos stood deadly still as people started to scream and run away out of fear. Every gunshot made your heart drop further because that could be you or him. The idea one of you might die right now was sickening for the both of you. 

The moment the sound of shooting stopped, the doll turned out and called green light again. Thanos quickly reached for his necklace while walking forward, desperately needing to be high right now so he could try to pretend like this wasn't really happening. Meanwhile, you didn't move a muscle - too afraid you might die here. You didn't want to be shot too.

The doll turned its head and called out red light making everyone freeze again. Another gunshot rang out making you flinch but thankfully the doll didn't notice the small movement. When it turned around again, Thanos put the pill in his mouth before closing his necklace and looking behind him. You still weren't moving, making him worry. You didn't have time to just stand there, you had to get going and make it to the end.

“What are you doing? You have to move,” Thanos spoke out as he gestured for you to come over to him. He kept still when the doll announced red light again but he kept his eyes on yours. He couldn't have you just stand there until your inevitable death. The moment the players could move again, Thanos ran toward you and grabbed your wrist before pulling you along with him. 

With Thanos dragging you along, you both managed to make it to the end before the time ran out. The relief the two of you shared was only there momentarily. You may have survived this game but what's to say you'll survive the next game? There was no guarantee. In fact, you weren't even confident in yourself that you'd survive the next game. After all, you only got through this because Thanos had dragged you to the end. 

As if sensing your fear, Thanos looked at you and cupped your face with his hands. “Don't look so stressed, baby. We're fine,” he spoke as he gently caressed your cheek. You gave a small smile at his words but the fear didn't disappear. He let out a sigh before tapping your cheek twice and removing his hands. He knew there wasn't much he could say to make this any better. It was a lot to handle, that was for sure. The only reason he was calm was because he had popped a pill the moment the first person died. 

As the players were slowly led back to the main room which they had awoken in, Thanos took your hand to keep you close to him. Despite the drugs he had taken, he was still pretty stressed about the whole ordeal. Mostly because of you. He couldn't fathom the idea of you getting shot like those other idiots in the last game. He'd definitely go crazy if you got hurt so he needed to keep you close to him. 

Even after you were already in the room, his hand still kept a firm grip on yours as if you might disappear should he let go. You didn't mind though. If anything, his hand squeezing yours was a huge comfort. A silent reminder that he wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon. It made you feel significantly calmer to be close to him.

He led you to the back of the room and sat you down on the bed before sitting down next to you, his legs crossed with his hand still in yours. He looks at you for a few moments, analyzing your face and trying to read your thoughts. He didn’t like the way your eyes lingered on your lap instead of him so he raised a hand and tilted your chin upwards to make you look at him.

“Baby, you good?” he asks even though he already knew the answer to that question. You were quite far from good after all the blood you had seen. “Am i good?” you say sarcastically, mocking his own words. “Of course, I’m not! I just saw people die! Too many! Fuck, that could’ve been me or you,” you speak, your stress about the whole situation evident in your face and tone. “You gotta relax. We’re fine. Besides we’ll get out of here soon,” he says reassuringly as he looks at you with worry.

You let out a sigh and shake your head as you look to the side- away from him. It was quiet for a few moments as Thanos waited for you to say something else, knowing that you were thinking something. “What if we don’t?” you finally say as you look back at him again. “Don’t say that,” he speaks as his face hardens slightly at the idea that you might die. Fuck, he couldn’t bear the thought of you laying lifeless. “Not saying it doesn’t make it any less of a possibility,” you respond with a frown. He knows that you’re right. It’s a possibility that he can’t just ignore.

“I swear on my life that I will protect you,” he says with a sincere look on his face. It didn’t make you feel any better though because swearing on his life in a game where he could actually die wasn’t a good thing. “Don’t say that,” you speak, repeating his earlier words as your face hardens. You didn’t want him to even think about sacrificing his life for you. You couldn’t see what you’d do without him. 45.6 billion was useless if he couldn’t be there with you to spend it. 

“Okay,” he says with a small smirk as he raises his hand in mock surrender. “I’ll swear on the sun and the moon instead,” he said as he lowered his hands. His words were enough to make you smile a little. Him swearing on the sun and the moon was plenty more significant then others may think. He swore on the sun and the moon he’d treat you right when he first asked you to be his. He swore on the sun and the moon to always be there for you after a particularly bad day when you lost your dad. Most of all, he swore on the sun and the moon that he’d buy a nice house and you could get married and live happily ever after together. He never ever took the name of the sun and moon in vain and that’s why hearing him say it now made you feel just a little better about the current situation.

Thanos looked behind himself for a moment before back at you. “Hey.. if swearing on the sun and moon isn’t enough for you, I could show you how serious I am,” he says with a small smirk. It didn’t take an idiot to know what he meant by that. “..what exactly does that mean?” you question even though you already knew exactly what he meant. There was a spark of desire in his eyes that matched yours as his hand gripped yours tightly. “I don’t have to tell you for you to know,” he says before standing up and pulling you up from the bed with him. 

He drags you towards the door on the right side of the room and bangs on it loudly. “Hey, open up. Bathroom needed,” he says and the door opens after a moment. “Ladies first,” he says with a smirk as he steps out of the way to let you go in first. You shake your head, an amused smile playing on your face as you walk in. The guard led you both down the hallway and to the bathroom. Thanos didn’t waste any time in pushing past that door, dragging you behind him. 

With his patience wearing thin, he quickly pulled you into a kiss. It was unlike his usual kisses that were rough and involved his tongue jammed down your throat. This kiss was more passionate as if he was trying to say something words could never convey properly. He quickly pushed you back into one of the stalls and kicked the door closed behind him, locking it with one of his hands. He spun you around and pushed your back against the stall wall. 

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he mumbles after pulling away momentarily. He stares at you silently - memorizing every feature of your face. He could never get enough of how pretty you were. It felt like a miracle someone like you was with a dickhead like him. He couldn’t help but admire you. “..What? Is something wrong?” you say as you look at him with concern. You didn’t expect him to just stare at you out of nowhere and it was a little embarrassing. 

He shakes his head as he snaps out of his trance. “No, sorry. Just thinking about how fucking lucky I am,” he says before kissing you again like it’s the last time he could ever get to kiss you. In his mind, it damn well could be. One of you really could be dead by tomorrow evening and then that was it. He’d never see you smile or laugh again or look at him like he was the most important thing in the world. The thought was sickening. No matter how confident or cocky he’d act, he was still just Choi Su-bong. And Choi Su-bong was undeniably yours.

You put your arms around his neck as you kissed him back - the feeling of his hands on your waist keeping you in the moment and erasing any memory of the earlier events just for now. His hands slipped under your shirt to feel your skin before he pulled away from the kiss and opted for leaving kisses on your neck instead. He sucked at the skin so delicately and slowly, trying to savor his time with you as much as possible. His lips paused for a moment when they hovered over your pulse point before he kissed the area and bit it softly to mark you right above your pulse so he could feel your heart beat quicker - a silent confirmation that you were still very much alive. 

His hands trailed down to the waistband of your pants before he tugged them down till they dropped to the floor. His hand then pulled your underwear down too, not wanting to waste time with foreplay with the limited time you two shared together. His index finger gently traced over your clit making a moan escape the back of your mouth. “You’re already wet for me? God - I can just skip ahead then, yeah?” he says as he pulls his hand to pull his pants down along with his boxers. 

“Not even a little prep?” you question as you look at him. He laughs quietly before nodding his head. “Fine, but you better cum quick - I need to feel you,” he speaks as one of his hands finds its way to your hole again. He carefully rubs his fingers back and forth before slipping in a finger. His free hand went to cover your mouth when a moan escaped as he couldn’t risk the guard outside the bathrooms hearing and breaking up this moment with you. 

“Gotta be quiet, baby,” he says as he starts to finger you. You nod your head as you try to keep as quiet as possible. He inserts another finger and begins to quicken the pace in which he thrusted his fingers in and out of you. He kept his eyes on your face, loving your reactions to his fingers deep inside your aching core. He had always observed you like this but there was something different about it now that you two had each other to lose. Everything was so much more passionate than usual. You found that your release came much quicker this time around as you released on his fingers. 

“God, you’re so good for me,” he says as he pulls his fingers out slowly before bringing them to his mouth and tasting you. He held eye contact with you as he sucked his fingers clean before leaning down and kissing you again, his hand finding its place on the back of your neck to keep you close. He slowly lined himself up with you, his tip rubbing against your entrance making him let out a small groan. 

He slowly pushed into you, burying his face into your neck as he stretched you out with his dick. He let out a heavy huff at the feeling of being inside you. It felt euphoric. You were so unbelievably tight as he continued to inch himself further in. You let out a moan that was muffled by his hand as he finally pushed in the rest of his dick with one stroke. “You good?” he asks as he pulls his head away from your neck and looks at you. You were still for a few moments before you nodded your head - finally adjusting to the stretch.

The moment you nodded your head, he slipped out before thrusting right back in. He let out a low groan as he repeated the movement over and over, making sure you could feel every inch of his cock deep inside you. You leaned your head back against the stall door as he thrusted in and out of you with a quick pace. His hands grab at your hips roughly to keep you still while he thrusts in and out of your tight hole. “God.. Holy fucking shit,” he mumbled under his breath as the sound of skin hitting skin echoed through the bathroom. He loved being deep inside you like this. It felt so fucking good. Even more so now because it was a way to reassure himself you were still here with him and not one of the many corpses he saw earlier.

The thought you could be dead soon spurred him on to fuck you harder. He hated that possibility. He didn’t want to think about that. He just wanted to think about you. How your head was thrown back, how your arms were wrapped around his shoulders, how you tried to keep quiet but struggled because he made you feel so good. He loved every fucking part of you - you were perfect.

"Fuck - I love you. Do you hear me? I love you so fucking much. Please say it back" he spoke as he thrusted into you quickly, his pace getting sloppy as he drew ever-so closer to a sweet release. God, he wanted to fill you up with his cum but he needed to hear you say that you loved him like he loved you. He needed to know you cared for him and wouldn’t leave him anytime soon. You nodded your head before forcing yourself to look him in the eyes. “I-I love you too,” you speak and the groan he lets out is so loud.

He immediately releases with one last thrust, making sure his cum spills deep inside of you. You released along with him with a moan and you both stilled. It was quiet for a few moments aside from the heavy breathing that filled the bathroom. He leaned his forehead against yours and closed his eyes as he came down from his high. His hands slowly trailed up from your hips to your face as he gently held your cheeks in his hands.

“I love you,” he repeats as he opens his eyes and looks into yours. There was very much a different kind of look in his eyes this time. A look that told you how much he really meant what he said. There was a hint of fear in his eyes too as he genuinely feared that he may lose you sooner or later to these stupid games.

“I know,”

[robinsgrl]

FEARLESS

chapter four. doors and burgers

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pairing ⇢ rafe cameron x plus size!reader

word count ⇢ 2.2k

warnings ⇢ fatphobia, insecurities, panic attack, boobies lol, Scarlett should be her own warning, daddy issues,

authors note ⇢ sorry that i messed up on my last post yall!! i confused scarlett with heather. she was supposed to be Heather but i was like….. heathers get too much crap thank you conan 😒 and i forgot to change it lol sorry!!! also i rewrote this like five times and i this was the one i was most satisfied with, so enjoy!!

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Scarlett leaves from what you can tell. People are talking about the kitchen debacle and there are mixed reviews. Some are still kissing Scarlett’s ass, others don’t like her any longer. But it doesn’t seem anyone’s on your side. You’re still invisible. You’ve since taken off your jacket that was drenched and Rafe has given you his. It’s big but it doesn’t cover you entirely, and that makes you feel so damn embarrassed.

Despite your mission being to get Jonah to see you, neither of you can find him anywhere. Kiara and Sarah had their eyes out for him as well but they’ve since lost the mission at hand. Now, you’re all sat in the living room where there are a few people dancing around Sarah who’s singing obnoxiously bad on the karaoke machine. No one has any idea where it came from but everyone is loving it.

You’re clapping along with Kiara, laughing when Sarah messes up another lyric and blames the song. For the first time in what seems like a long time, Rafe isn’t drinking. He isn’t doing much of anything but staying by your side. He’s sitting beside you, watching his sister with amusement. He refuses to clap though, only doing it when you reach over to lift his hands and make him clap.

It’s Kiara’s turn to sing when you get up off the couch and look for the bathroom in the huge figure 8 house. The home has photographs scattered, a happy family shown in them all. It might just be the beer in you that makes you want to cry. You’ve seen the kid around school before and he isn’t anything to you. Anything at all. But you’re wishing him the best. Yeah, you realize it’s the beer.

You stumble into a random room and let out a screech when a body gets up from a bed.

“What are you doing here?” Jonah’s voice sends a flutter through your belly. Your belly. Your stomach. You take a hold of Rafe’s jacket and tighten it around yourself, hiding your body from the guy you want badly.

“Oh… uhm…” you wipe the tears from your eyes that had bled out at the family pictures. “I’m looking for the bathroom.”

He’s immediately up on his feet at the sight of your tears. Your eyes widen when his hands take a hold of your round face and examines you carefully. “Are you okay? Why are you crying?”

Your breath hitches at the feel of his warm hand. It’s soft. Far too soft for a man who puts his all into the gym and football. “Oh? I… uhm… haha, what? Yeah? I'm… I’m fine. Just…” you sniffle and gently move his hand from your face. You’re refusing to meet his eyes,shy about your sadness. “The pictures… they look so happy.”

The look on his face makes you want to run away. And then, he laughs. “You’re crying because Tommy and his family look happy?”

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out, stuck. “It’s not a bad thing.” Are his words when he seems to realize how stunned you feel. “It’s… adorable.”

You fumble your words, “oh, I, uhm, yeah, okay, that’s… yeah.” To have the guy you’ve been into for years call you such a word is a rush. A scary one. But you like it. And whatever it is you did, you wish you could keep doing it until he saw you as you saw him. Perfect.

You’re still standing by the door of the random bedroom and it’d be easy to just run off. But you can’t. Making a fool of yourself in front of Jonah will only make your plan harder. And Rafe would kill you for letting his effort go to waste. “What are you doing in here?” It comes out more abrasive than you wished, internally scolding yourself.

But he doesn’t seem to mind. Rather, he takes his seat back on the bed and shrugs. “It’s noisy.”

You understand. You really, really do. And you want to say it aloud but your tongue is tied as you watch him throw his head back, his adams apple bobbing as he swallows gently. After a moment, you semi-gather yourself. “Did you leave cause of Sarah?” You joke lightly. “That’s what made me leave.”

This garners a soft laugh out of him and you want to jump up and squeal. But Rafe told you to act nonchalant. “Yeah, she’s certainly… singing.”

You take one step away from the door. Just one. You were going to sit beside him. You were going to talk to him. Really talk to him.

The door behind you swings open and hits your head. Hard. “What the fuck?” Jonah’s quick on his feet, rushing to you in a panic. You turn to look at the culprit and your frown turns into a glare. Rafe.

“What the fuck, Rafe?!” You hiss, sending a punch to his shoulder.

“Why were you standing so near the door?!”

“Why would you swing it open like a maniac?!”

“It’s not my fault you were standing there—“

“Maybe don’t open doors like that—“

“Oh, shut up, do you ever not complain—“

“Says you! You’re, like, the king of complaining—“

“King? King—“

“Should I leave?” Jonah’s soft voice speaks and you shove Rafe’s face as you look at him and smile.

“N-no, you shouldn’t have to. He was just leaving.”

“I was? I don’t— ow, fuck, okay, I’m leaving.”

The mood was ruined. Whatever mood Jonah was in was gone. And so was your confidence. It's awkward as you sit next to him on the bed. The palm of your hands are on your knees, anxiously rubbing at them. He’s laid back on the bed, arm crossed over his eyes, the only thing telling you he’s up is the soft twitch of his fingers.

“Does it hurt?” His voice cuts through the thick silence.

Panicked, you glance over at him with wide eyes. “Does… does what hurt?”

“Your head. He opened the door pretty hard.” He still doesn’t move from his position and you’re grateful he’s not looking at you. You do better when people can’t perceive you.

“Oh, my head… yeah, it’s fine, doesn’t hurt. I-it’s a little sore but I’ll make him pay for it.” You shrug, fixing Rafe’s jacket on your body.

“You two are close.” It’s supposed to be a question. It doesn’t sound like one.

You shake your head despite his eyes being covered up. “Not really. I… he’s nice but we’re not like friends.”

He sits back up and this makes you tense up, looking straight ahead at that damn door you hate now. “Just never seen him with anyone but his same three friends.”

“I’m friends with Sarah. We’re just… around each other more.” It’s a lie. But you don’t believe Rafe would want people to know just how much time you’re really spending together. The less people that know, the better.

“You and Scarlett are really done?” He questions, eyes on you. But you can’t look over at him. You’re stiff and awkward and unsure of how to act around him.

You nod softly, “y-yeah… she’s, uhm, not a very nice person.”

It’s quiet for another moment. “She’s been running her mouth about you. Calling you names. Really bad names. And all you can say is ‘she's not nice’?”

Hearing that she’s still talking about you is a punch to the guy and suddenly you don’t care about your crush. You don’t care that you two are sitting so close to each other. All you can think is how horrible she truly is. How blinded you were. And how stupid you feel for missing her. “Well… just because others are doing bad things, doesn’t mean I should. Be the bigger person and whatnot.” You let out a small and awkward laugh to try and shrug off what you’re really feeling.

“Wow.” Are his words as he gets up off the bed and walks to the dresser of the bedroom and picking up a magazine. “You’re really not like other girls.” An even bigger punch to the gut. Logically, you know he’s trying to be kind. He’s only saying this to make you feel better, your feelings on Scarlett written all over your face.

You don’t wear makeup, not like other girls do. You don’t dress up, not like other girls do. You don’t giggle over guys, not like other girls do. You don’t go out and have fun, not like other girls do. But you want to do it all. You want to be like other girls. You never felt worth it. Lipstick on a pig. You’re too big to fit trendy clothes. You don’t giggle over guys because they’d be disgusted that you’re into them. You don’t go out because you’d be the biggest out of the group of girls that are around you. You’d be an eyesore.

In a frantic move, you get up off the bed. “Right. Well, I, uh… I have to go.”

“Huh? What—“ but you don’t pay any attention to his words as you rush out of the random bedroom. There are kids littering the hallway. The steps are being used as seats, shoving people slightly as you go. The music is loud. Too loud. You can feel it bouncing in your eardrums and filling your already muddled thoughts. Theres nothing you can think about other than getting out of that damn house. And in your panicked stupor, you can’t find the damn. The house is too damn big.

There’s a couple making out in the bathroom when you rush inside and when they see the fear in your eyes, they rush out, leaving you to be.

The drive isn’t awkward. Not like you thought it would be. He didn’t question you. And despite his last text, he didn’t bring it up. And you’re grateful he didn’t.

“Where are we going?” You ask when you realize you’re headed downtown. “I want to go home, Rafe.”

He shrugs, hands on the wheel. “I’m hungry. We’re just stopping by The Wreck real quick.”

He doesn’t ask you to get down with him. He parks, heads inside, and he’s out fifteen minutes later. But he doesn’t start driving. In fact, he immediately takes a bite out of his burger, your food untouched on your lap.

“You’re not gonna eat?” He asks with his mouth full, but you don’t grimace like you should. You grab a napkin and hands it to him but he shakes his head refusing it.

“You’re dirty.”

“And you’re not eating.” He swallows his food.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’re lying.”

“So because I'm fat, I must be hungry?” It’s a joke but the look he gives you tells you he’s not amused in the slightest. “Tough crowd. Seriously, I'm not hungry.”

“Is this that thing where you don’t eat in front of people cause you’re with a guy? Sarah told me it’s some shit she does.”

“It’s that thing where I’m not hungry, actually.” But it smells divine. Usually, you’d happily eat this but after tonight, you’re not sure if you’ll ever eat greasy foods again.

He scoffs, putting his burger down and holding a fry up at you. “Try the fry.”

“You try the fry.”

“I already did. Seriously, my mom had this trick while we were growing up. Sarah always swore she wasn’t hungry and wouldn’t get anything to eat but she’d make her try something from the plate to realize how hungry she really was.”

“How old was she?”

“My mom? She was pushing forty.”

You glare at the proud look on his face at his joke. “Sarah, stupid.”

“I don’t know… seven?”

“You’re treating me like a seven year old?”

“Try. The. Fry.” He swipes it across your lips and this gets a laugh out of you, shoving him away.

“Okay, okay! I’ll eat a fry. But that one has lipstick all over it now.” You pick a fry from his and he squints his eyes at you.

“You have a perfectly good batch.”

You pop the fry into your mouth with a content smile. “Not as good as yours.” And he was right. The salt and buttery soft fry proved to be true— you are hungry.

With a sigh, you grab your burger and say— “okay… just… don’t look.”

This amuses him. “Don’t look at you eat your burger? Well, there goes my spank bank.”

“Ew, Rafe!” You laugh, nose scrunching at his crude words.

You take a bite of your burger. And it’s absolutely delicious. Just like you knew it would be. Instead of worrying over stuffed up cheeks or looking fat while eating, you share laughs, mouths full and not a single care.

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[rootedinrevisions]

Where the Night Ends

SUMMARY: After an evening in the spotlight, Glen Powell’s biggest night of the year is more than just red carpets and bright lights—it’s a celebration of his career and a test of his resilience. Through the glamour and chaos, you’re by his side, offering him a safe space to share the highs and the inevitable disappointments. In the quiet hours after the applause fades, the two of you find strength in each other, proving that true connection shines brighter than any award.

A/N: This story was inspired by the idea for a story I've had for a while for Glen that even the most charismatic and confident people, like Glen Powell, have quieter, more vulnerable sides they don’t often show the world. While Glen’s charm and upbeat personality make him shine in the public eye, I wanted to imagine what those quiet, intimate moments might look like—the ones where he allows himself to relax and let his guard down with someone he trusts completely. And I thought tonight with the Golden Globes and him not winning would be a perfect way to explore this idea I've had. Also I don't know why but Glen low key gives me golden retriever boyfriend vibes so there's some of that in here as well!

I’d love to hear your thoughts! Your Likes, Comments, and Reblogs mean the world to me and help me continue creating stories like this one.

WARNINGS: Nudity (No Smut, just non-sexual but intimate nudity).

TAGS: In comments.

You glance at your reflection one last time, running your hands down the smooth fabric of your gown. The luxurious satin hugs your body in all the right places, the deep color shimmering subtly under the bathroom light. The rich hue perfectly complements Glen’s sharp, classic black ensemble, and you can't help but imagine how great the two of you will look together tonight. The gold accents on your bracelet catch the light with every movement, adding a hint of warmth to the otherwise cool tones of the dress. It feels like magic—elegant, understated, and yet striking in its own quiet way. The gown pools slightly at your feet, as if it were made for you.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves that have settled in the pit of your stomach. This is your first time attending such an event with Glen, despite the time you’ve been together. You won’t be walking the red carpet beside him, and the idea of staying in the background, on the sidelines, makes you both excited and slightly anxious. You're not used to this kind of attention, and tonight, all eyes will be on him.

Before you can let the nerves fully settle in, you hear Glen's voice. His warm, familiar tone breaks through the quiet of the hotel room.

"Damn," he murmurs from the doorway, his voice a little breathless. "I thought the Golden Globes were supposed to be the main event tonight, but now I’m not so sure."

You turn toward him, your heart skipping a beat. He’s standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a grin, his velvet jacket catching the light. His eyes lock onto yours, and there’s something in them—a mixture of admiration, affection, and something deeper.

He takes a slow step forward, his gaze never leaving yours, and wraps his arms around you from behind. His chest presses into your back, warm and solid, grounding you in the moment. His breath brushes against your ear, soft and gentle.

"You look incredible," he says, voice low and reverent, before pressing a kiss to your temple.

You meet his eyes in the mirror, a small smile tugging at your lips. The warmth of his embrace settles your nerves, and the tension you hadn’t realized you were holding begins to melt away.

His presence is like a balm, soothing your anxieties. You lean back into him, the soft beat of his heart against your back comforting you. It’s a moment of quiet intimacy before the whirlwind of the night begins.

"You sure I’m not going to embarrass you in front of all those cameras?" you tease, glancing back at him with a playful smile.

Glen chuckles softly, tightening his arms around you just a little. "You couldn’t embarrass me if you tried," he murmurs, his voice steady. "Besides I think my mom and dad have the embarrassing moments covered."

You both laugh softly, but the smile that stretches across his face is real—genuine, almost vulnerable in a way that only you get to see. It’s a rare, quiet moment that makes you feel all the more certain of the love you share.

You take a deep breath, your nerves settling as you feel the warmth of his body surrounding you. His embrace is a reminder of the calm you’ve come to rely on in the chaos of this world—his, and now yours.

"Alright, I think it’s time to get going," you say softly, turning slightly to grab your coat from the chair.

Glen kisses your cheek before you both head for the door, his hand brushing yours as you step into the next phase of the night.

You and Glen step out of the hotel room, the cool air of the hallway brushing against your skin as the door clicks shut behind you. Glen’s hand finds yours almost instinctively, the familiar warmth of his touch grounding you once again. You give him a small smile, feeling the shift from the quiet intimacy of the room to the bustle of the world outside.

"Ready?" he asks, his voice warm but laced with a hint of excitement. His eyes twinkle, full of that effortless charm he seems to carry with him no matter where he goes.

"Ready as I’ll ever be," you reply, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

The elevator ride down to the lobby is quick, but the silence between you is comfortable. Glen’s thumb brushes lightly against your hand as you both stand side by side, the sound of the elevator music almost drowned out by the rush of adrenaline you both share. Tonight is big—for him, for both of you—but in this moment, it’s just the two of you, sharing a quiet space before the chaos begins.

The elevator dings as it reaches the lobby floor, and you step out into the bright, bustling space. The lobby is abuzz with activity—people in tuxedos and gowns chatting, last-minute preparations happening all around. You spot the entrance to the event area, where a stream of reporters and photographers are lined up, their cameras ready to catch the next big arrival.

Glen’s parents, Cyndy and Glen Sr., are already waiting by the elevators, talking to a few other familiar faces. The moment they see you both, Cyndy’s warm, motherly smile lights up her face.

"There they are!" she says, walking over to give Glen a hug. "Glen, you look so handsome!"

Glen returns her embrace with a chuckle, his broad shoulders relaxing in her hug. "Thanks, Mom. You look amazing, too."

Cyndy pulls back, giving you a quick once-over with approving eyes. "And you, sweetheart, look just breathtaking."

"Thank you," you say, smiling softly, feeling a wave of warmth at her words.

Glen Sr. gives you a small nod of approval before turning his attention to the growing crowd. “Ready to go, son?” he asks, his voice low and steady, a stark contrast to the bright excitement in the air.

"Yeah, let’s do this," Glen replies, squeezing your hand once more before stepping forward.

As you step toward the doors, the weight of the night becomes palpable, the atmosphere charged with anticipation. Glen’s hand slips from yours, but not before he gives it one last, reassuring squeeze. His gaze meets yours for a moment, his eyes soft with affection despite the flurry of activity around you.

He leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a wave of warmth through your body. 

"Stay close to my parents," he murmurs, his voice low and steady, a mixture of affection and quiet command. "I’ll talk to you after the red carpet, okay?"

You nod, the reassurance in his words settling your nerves just slightly. His presence, even in these small moments, brings you an unexpected sense of calm. You watch as he straightens up, giving you a final, comforting smile before turning to head towards the first section of the red carpet. The flashing lights of the cameras immediately focus on him, the buzz of voices rising as they call out his name.

You take a deep breath, reminding yourself that tonight isn’t about the spotlight on you—it’s about being there for him, supporting him as he steps into this moment.

Before you can fully process the next rush of energy, you feel a light nudge at your elbow. Glen’s dad, with his ever-so-gracious demeanor, offers you his arm. 

"Shall we?" he asks with a warm smile, a glint of pride in his eyes as he looks toward his son, now posing for the cameras ahead.

You slip your arm through his, the two of you walking in step with Glen’s mother beside you. The hum of the red carpet fills the air, the cameras flashing in bursts like strobe lights as people call out names, photographers jockeying for the best shot. It feels surreal, watching Glen move through the chaos so effortlessly, a magnet for attention, while you remain just behind him, tucked safely in the background.

The red carpet is a world of its own—a whirlwind of lights, flashing cameras, and excited chatter. You stand a few feet behind Glen, walking with his parents as you watch him effortlessly navigate the chaos. From the moment he steps onto the carpet, he’s in his element, greeting reporters, posing for the cameras, and smiling with a confidence that seems almost innate.

He moves with such ease, each step deliberate, his velvet jacket catching the light with every turn. The photographers call out his name, the clicks of the cameras almost deafening, but Glen is unfazed. He’s a natural—tilting his head slightly, flashing that signature smile that’s made him a favorite among fans and critics alike. Each pose is perfectly executed, like he’s done this a thousand times, and yet you know it’s all real, all part of the moment.

Glen interacts with the reporters as though they’re old friends. He laughs at their jokes, asks how their evening is going, and never misses a beat. It’s impossible not to feel proud as you watch him—this man you love, who has worked so hard to get to this point in his career, now being recognized for his talents. The genuine warmth in his smile, the way he listens to each person, makes them feel like they’re the only one in the room.

You catch snippets of conversations, little flashes of Glen’s humor and grace as he talks to the interviewers. “It’s an honor just to be here with such incredible talent,” he says to one, giving a humble but genuine answer that makes the reporter smile brightly. The cameras click furiously as he poses once more, a wink in your direction as if he’s sharing a private joke with you amidst all the attention.

He walks past you briefly, pausing to stop and chat with one of the other nominees. The other actor greets him warmly, their handshake firm and friendly. Glen’s laughter rings out, the two of them talking animatedly. It’s clear they’re both enjoying the interaction, and you feel a swell of pride as you watch him effortlessly charm everyone around him.

As Glen continues walking down the carpet, interacting with other actors and actresses, you steal quick glances at him, noticing the way his eyes flicker toward you, checking in even amidst the chaos. Every so often, he pauses—just for a moment—and looks back to where you’re standing with his parents, catching your gaze in a fleeting moment of connection.

It happens once when he’s posing for a photographer. He turns just enough to meet your eyes, his smile softening, just for you. Then, as he moves toward the next group of reporters, he sends a quick wink your way—casual but filled with meaning.

As he’s walking towards the interview section, he reaches out briefly, brushing his hand against yours. It’s so subtle, so quick, but the warmth of it lingers, making your heart skip a beat. You smile to yourself, feeling like you’re the only one in the crowd who understands the quiet moments between the flashes.

Every now and then, he checks in with his parents, his dad offering a gentle nod or a pat on the back, and his mom giving him a quick hug, congratulating him on the moment. As he walks past you again, he places his hand lightly on your lower back, the touch firm but gentle, like a silent reassurance. He leans in, his voice low but carrying just enough for you to hear, “I’m almost done, I promise.” You smile softly, nodding, grateful for the little check-ins.

With each moment, you feel more in awe of him—his ability to navigate this world with such grace, his kindness, and his generosity toward everyone he meets. You’ve always known how hard he’s worked for this, but seeing him shine like this, being recognized for his talent, makes your heart swell with pride. The man standing before you, talking to the crowd, was once just a guy with a dream—and now, he’s living it.

As Glen steps off the red carpet, the flurry of flashing cameras and excited shouts start to fade away. The soft hum of conversation inside the venue fills the air, and for a brief moment, you feel like the world slows down. You catch his eye just as he spots you standing at the edge of the carpet, watching him. His smile lights up his face—genuine and warm—and your heart flutters just a little bit at the sight of it.

Without a second thought, Glen strides over to you, his presence commanding yet soft, as though the spotlight of the red carpet hasn’t followed him. He leans in, pressing a quick, simple kiss to your lips—one that might be so brief to anyone watching that they’d miss it, but to you, it feels like a promise. It’s the kind of kiss that lingers just enough to remind you that you’re still in his thoughts, even in the whirlwind of the evening.

Pulling back, Glen smiles at you, his eyes soft but intense. Without missing a beat, he reaches down and takes your hand in his, the warmth of his touch grounding you in the midst of everything. His parents, ever gracious, follow behind as Glen begins to lead you into the venue.

As you step inside, the atmosphere changes. The venue is filled with a sea of familiar, and very recognizable, faces. A sea of stars, each more dazzling than the last. You glance around, and your nerves spike just a little—this is the world Glen belongs to, and even though you’re used to being by his side, it feels a little more overwhelming now. The glitzy chandeliers above, the hum of voices, the clicking of glasses... all of it is a far cry from the quieter, more intimate moments you’ve shared together.

Instinctively, you bring your free hand up and curl it around Glen’s arm, drawing just a little closer to him. It’s subtle, a small gesture, but it makes you feel grounded in a room full of people you don’t quite know. Glen notices immediately, his eyes flicking down to you as if checking in to see how you're holding up.

“You alright?” he murmurs under his breath, his voice low but caring.

You give him a small smile, nodding, but he can tell there’s a flicker of nervousness in your eyes. Glen squeezes your hand gently, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand in a slow, reassuring rhythm. 

“We’ve got this,” he says with a quiet confidence that you know is meant as much for you as it is for himself.

His smile is enough to settle your nerves, if only for a moment. You take a deep breath, and as the two of you move further into the room, the sight of the grand tables, the gleaming crystal glasses, and the fancy place settings begin to feel more familiar. Glen leads you with an easy grace, guiding you toward your assigned table with a worker who’s waiting to escort you.

The worker gestures toward your seats, and Glen holds out his hand as you approach. With a flourish, he pulls your chair out for you, a small yet thoughtful gesture that makes you feel like the most important person in the room. You smile at him, grateful for his quiet care in a setting that could easily feel overwhelming.

As you sit down, Glen takes the seat beside you, his presence as steady and comforting as it has always been. He straightens his jacket and settles into his seat, and for the first time in hours, the two of you share a quiet moment, just the two of you. The world outside might be full of glamour, fame, and recognition, but here, in this little bubble you’ve found together, it’s just Glen—being the perfect gentleman, just as he always is.

The award show begins with a grand flourish. The host steps onto the stage, the lights dimming just slightly as the audience settles into their seats. You glance around, taking in the bustling room—famous actors, actresses, and directors sitting nearby, the whispers of excitement as the event officially kicks off.

Glen’s hand rests lightly on the back of your chair. The touch is small, but it anchors you in the midst of all the grandeur surrounding you. Without thinking, you lean into him just slightly, your head tipping toward his. The warmth of his body is a comfort, grounding you as the opening monologue begins.

The host captures the crowd’s attention with a series of jokes, and the sound of laughter ripples across the room. Glen smiles at the moment, but his attention is mostly on you. Every now and then, his fingers gently tap the back of your chair as if offering his quiet reassurance. You can feel his eyes on you, checking in with a glance when he thinks you’re not looking, making sure you’re comfortable in your seat.

The first few awards pass by quickly, the names of the nominees and winners announced with the usual anticipation, but you can feel the clock ticking in your mind, each passing moment heightening the tension in your chest. Glen is nominated for Best Performance by an Actor in a Motion Picture—Musical or Comedy, and the weight of the moment is starting to sink in.

You can feel your nerves rising with each passing category. With each announcement, the tightness in your chest grows as you anxiously glance down at your program, running your fingers over the pages in a distracted rhythm. Every now and then, Glen’s hand brushes against yours, either adjusting his position or offering an unspoken gesture of comfort. When his fingers meet yours, it’s as if the connection between you both is the only thing that grounds you amidst the flashing lights and the build-up.

The host’s voice rings out again, announcing the next presenters. You force yourself to take a slow breath, trying to calm the flutter of nerves that’s started to settle deep in your stomach. You can’t help but glance up at Glen, who, despite the chaos and the nerves building up inside him, is still looking at you with that same steady calmness. His eyes meet yours, soft but intense, and he gives you a small, quiet smile.

“You good?” he asks under his breath, his voice barely audible over the hum of the audience.

You nod, though you’re not sure if you believe it yourself. “Yeah, just a little anxious,” you admit quietly, fingers fidgeting with the edge of your program.

Glen gives you a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder and leans in closer. “You’re doing great,” he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. “Remember I’m right here.”

His voice is a steady comfort, and for a moment, you let yourself relax into it, but the closer you get to the moment of the award announcement, the harder it is to ignore the nerves prickling in your chest. You try not to let it show, but it’s impossible to ignore the fact that your whole body seems to tense with every name called.

The tension is almost unbearable as the next award category is announced. You can feel your heart beating faster as the presenter walks to the podium, the lights dimming slightly on the stage as the camera pans over the audience. You glance at Glen, your hand still lightly resting on his knee, both of you anxiously waiting for the moment to unfold.

The announcer opens the envelope, a brief pause lingering in the air, and then the name is spoken.

“Sebastian Stan.”

The name hit you like a soft punch to the gut. You’d been hoping, praying that Glen’s name would be called. But it’s not.

You exhale, the breath you’d been holding escaping in a slow, almost deflated sigh as the applause fills the room. Everyone around you begins clapping, but you feel a heavy weight settle in the pit of your stomach. You try to join in, your hands moving in sync with the crowd, but it feels automatic, hollow.

Glen’s gaze shifts downward as he claps politely, a professional smile plastered on his face. The joy that had been there moments ago, when he’d been watching others celebrate, is now gone. You notice the subtle slump of his shoulders, the way his jaw tightens just slightly. It’s so faint, but you see it—his disappointment, quiet and swift.

Without hesitation, you place a gentle hand on his knee, your fingers curling softly around the fabric of his suit. It’s a quiet gesture, one that says everything without words.

Leaning in closer, you whisper just for him. “I’m still so proud of you,” you say, your voice soft but steady. “This doesn’t change anything. You’ve had an incredible year.”

His eyes flicker to you for a moment, and though his smile is still warm, there’s a shadow of something behind it. He nods, as if trying to convince himself. 

“Yeah,” he says quietly, voice carrying the faintest hint of regret. “It’s all right.”

The cameras still hover near your table, and Glen turns slightly, giving his trademark charm for the audience, though you can see the subtle strain in the movement. It’s a mask, and you know it.

But then, just as quickly as the moment of disappointment had settled in, he shrugs it off, the professional smile back in place. He straightens his shoulders and waves at the camera as if nothing’s wrong.

“Hey,” you murmur softly, your thumb brushing gently against the back of his hand, offering him one more piece of quiet support. “You’ve worked so hard. This is just the beginning.”

Glen looks at you, his eyes softening, and he offers a genuine, albeit faint, smile. “I know. It’s just... I’ve wanted this for so long.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, and in that instant, you both share a fleeting connection—one of understanding, of being on the same page. You see past the façade, knowing the true weight of his disappointment.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of applause, speeches, and glimmering smiles, but the air feels different now. Glen seems to slip back into his polished, charming self, laughing with others and posing for photos as if nothing had happened. But you know him too well. Every now and then, when the laughter dies down or when the lights shift in a way that makes everything feel softer, you catch glimpses of that quiet vulnerability he’s tried to hide.

You continue to offer him your presence, your unwavering support. Your hand resting on the top of his hand which rests on his thigh, fingers gently tracing the skin on the back of his hand during the dull moments between awards. You don’t need to say anything—he knows you’re there. And though he’s the one in the spotlight, it’s in these moments when you share the unspoken strength that makes you feel so connected.

The show drags on, the anticipation building as the categories shift, and eventually, the evening winds down to its final moments. You barely notice the presenter’s voice over the soft murmur of your own thoughts, a quiet hum of gratitude settling in your chest. Glen may not have won tonight, but you know—this isn’t the end for him. Not even close.

When the final award is presented, everyone stands in applause, their excitement contagious, but you find yourself leaning back into the comfort of the moment. Glen’s hand, warm and steady on your back, guides you as you both move toward the exit, his parents trailing behind you.

You glance over at him—his face now a perfect mask of grace and poise. His earlier disappointment seems to have faded into the evening's glow. And though you know it might still sting for him later, for now, you’re here. Together. And that’s all that matters.

After the award show ends, Glen gives you a small, reassuring smile as you both make your way toward his parents, who are chatting with a few other guests near the exit. You and Glen share a brief exchange of looks—silent understanding passing between you before you approach them.

“Well, I think it’s time to say goodnight,” Glen says, his voice calm but tinged with a hint of exhaustion as he hugs his mom first, then his dad.

You follow his lead, offering a warm hug to Cyndy and Glen Sr., both of whom have been incredibly supportive all night. You exchange a few words, with his mom offering you a knowing smile and his dad patting Glen on the back, offering him a quiet “You did good, son. We're proud of you.”

Once the goodbyes are said, Glen takes your hand, leading you away from his parents to a quieter corner.

“Let’s get this night wrapped up,” he says with a grin, pulling you gently toward the after-party.

The after-party is lively but not too overbearing. The usual crowd of actors, producers, and influencers circulate the room, laughing and enjoying the last moments of the night. Glen and you share a few casual conversations with some of his industry friends, but the two of you stay close, mostly content in each other's presence.

You don’t stay long. Glen’s energy is starting to dip, and you can see the weight of the night catching up to him. When he whispers that he’s ready to leave, you’re more than ready to head back to the hotel as well.

As the elevator doors close behind you, the sounds of the bustling venue fade, replaced by the soft hum of the ride up. You catch Glen glancing at you from the corner of your eye, a soft smile playing at the edges of his lips.

“You were great tonight,” you say quietly, your voice a soft reassurance.

He shrugs, but the smile never fades. “It’s just part of the job.”

As you and Glen exit the elevator, the hallway feels quieter, almost like a contrast to the energy of the evening. The weight of the night—of the red carpet, the award show, the after-party—seems to melt away as you make your way down the hall toward your hotel room.

Glen’s hand is warm around yours, but you can feel the slight tension in his shoulders, the exhaustion settling in now that the cameras are no longer flashing and the attention is no longer on him. His smile, though still present, is more tired than it had been earlier. You can tell he’s ready to unwind, just the two of you.

Reaching the door, Glen digs into his pocket for the room key, the soft click of the lock echoing in the quiet hallway. As the door swings open, the familiar scent of the room hits you—slightly musty, but comforting, like the feeling of stepping back into a private space after a long, public day.

He holds the door open for you, letting you walk in first, before following closely behind. The room is dimly lit, the night sky outside casting a soft glow through the windows. You drop your clutch on the bed, watching as Glen kicks off his shoes with a tired sigh.

You turn to face him, standing there for a moment, both of you silently taking in the quiet that fills the room. Glen moves toward you, his hands finding yours, pulling you gently toward him.

“I’m glad you were here tonight,” he says softly, his voice filled with sincerity.

You smile up at him, the flicker of pride you feel for him still alive in your chest. “I wouldn’t have been anywhere else.”

Glen’s lips quirk into a small smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Instead, he steps closer, resting his forehead against yours for a moment, as if silently thanking you for being his anchor. He buries his face in your hair, inhaling deeply like he’s finally allowing himself to relax fully. The warmth of his breath against your temple sends a shiver through you.

Then, he lifts his head and looks at you, his hazel eyes holding something deeper. He reaches up, tilting your chin with his thumb and forefinger so you meet his gaze fully.

“Stay with me tonight,” he whispers, his voice low, almost hesitant, like he’s afraid you’ll say no.

Your chest tightens at his vulnerability, and you smile softly, shaking your head.

“Of course,” you whisper. Truthfully, you hadn’t planned on sleeping in your own room anyway.

His shoulders relax slightly at your answer, and his lips curve into a grateful smile. He brushes a stray strand of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering at your temple.

“Come on,” he murmurs, his voice still low, intimate. “Let’s take a shower.”

You nod, letting him guide you toward the bathroom. The sound of the water turning on fills the space as Glen leans over to adjust the temperature. Steam begins to curl in the air, softening the edges of the brightly lit room.

Turning back to you, Glen steps closer, his hands finding your waist. His velvet jacket is the first to go. You reach up, your fingers brushing against his shoulders as you slide it off. It drops to the floor in a heap, revealing his silk shirt underneath. Slowly, your hands move to the buttons, undoing each one with care.

As you work, Glen leans down, pressing soft kisses along your lips, jawline and down your neck. The gentle scrape of his stubble against your skin sends a shiver through you, but the moment isn’t rushed. It’s deliberate, like he’s savoring every second of closeness he missed earlier.

“You have no idea how badly I wanted to touch you all night,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

You pause for a moment, your hands resting on his chest, and look up at him with a small smile. “I think I might have an idea,” you tease softly, earning a quiet laugh from him.

Once you’ve finished unbuttoning his shirt, he shrugs it off in one smooth motion, letting it pool on the cool tiled floor beside his jacket. Then, his hands find your hips, and he gently spins you around. His fingers trace the line of the zipper on your dress, slowly sliding it down. The fabric loosens, slipping over your hips and down your body until it gathers at your feet.

Glen wraps his arms around your bare midsection, pulling you back against his chest. He presses a lingering kiss to your shoulder, his lips soft and warm against your skin.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion, before moving to press another kiss to your neck. “I love you.”

Your breath catches at his words, and you rest your hands over his where they’re wrapped around you.

“I love you too,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of the running water.

After a moment, he releases you, stepping back so you can both finish undressing. Once you’re both bare, Glen takes your hand in his, his fingers intertwining with yours, and leads you into the shower. The warm water cascades over your skin, washing away the remnants of the long evening.

Inside the glass enclosure, it’s just the two of you, cocooned in the sound of the rushing water and the heat that envelopes you both. Glen reaches for the shampoo, lathering it in his hands before gently running them through the strands of your hair. His touch is slow and deliberate.

“You’re too good to me,” you murmur as he works the product into your scalp further.

He pauses, his hands resting on your shoulders as he looks at you. “Not even close,” he replies softly.

You turn your head to look at him, and his eyes hold yours for a long moment before he leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to show you how much you mean to me.”

Your throat tightens at his words, and you reach up, brushing a damp strand of hair out of his face. “You already do,” you whisper.

For the rest of the shower, there’s no rush, no urgency—just the quiet, intimate exchange of touch and unspoken promises. By the time you step out and wrap yourselves in the plush hotel robes, the connection between you somehow feels even stronger, solidified by the quiet moments you’ve shared.

Steam still lingers in the air as the two of you step out of the bathroom, freshly showered and relaxed. You pad over to your suitcase, rifling through it for something to wear, but instead of choosing one of your own shirts, you make your way to Glen’s bag. Pulling out one of his well-worn t-shirts, you slip it over your head, the familiar scent of him enveloping you. You pair it with your favorite underwear and turn to see Glen already pulling on a pair of black boxers, his hair still damp and curling slightly at the edges.

He glances at you and his lips curve into a small, tired smile. “Looks better on you,” he murmurs, nodding toward his shirt. You roll your eyes playfully but can’t help the warmth that blooms in your chest. 

The two of you crawl onto the plush mattress, settling in side by side. The headboard provides a comfortable backrest as Glen grabs the remote and flicks on the TV, aimlessly scrolling through channels. The faint glow of the screen fills the otherwise dimly lit room, but neither of you are paying much attention to what’s on.

A comfortable silence settles between you, the kind that only comes with familiarity. Without a word, Glen shifts, leaning over to lay his head on your lap. His strong arms wrap loosely around your waist, anchoring himself to you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. He exhales deeply, his breath warm against your leg, and you feel the tension in his body begin to melt away.

Instinctively, your fingers find their way to his hair, gently combing through the damp strands. He sighs at the touch, the sound soft and vulnerable, and it makes your chest tighten. You know Glen is always composed in public, but here, in the quiet of the hotel room, he lets his guard down.

For a while, he doesn’t say anything, just holds onto you like he needs the connection to keep himself steady. You can feel the weight of the evening still lingering in the air between you, though. It’s not just physical exhaustion; it’s the emotional toll of the night—the highs and lows, the constant smiling, the conversations that required too much energy.

Finally, Glen breaks the silence, his voice low and raw. “It was a lot, you know?” he murmurs, his face still pressed against your lap. “The whole day… the prep, the red carpet, the cameras… smiling so much my face hurt. And then sitting there, waiting for them to call my name.”

You hum softly in acknowledgment, your fingers never faltering in their soothing motions through his hair. “It’s okay to feel disappointed, you know. You worked so hard. Anyone would feel the same.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his grip on your waist tightening slightly.

“It’s not even about winning,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “I think… I think it’s just everything leading up to it. The expectations, the pressure. And then when they didn’t call my name, it was like all of that hit me at once.”

You glance down at him, his face partially hidden in the soft fabric of your borrowed t-shirt.

“It’s okay to feel this way, Glen,” you say softly, your voice full of reassurance. “You don’t always have to be the strong one.”

He shifts slightly, his eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment before he buries his face back against you.

“I just hate feeling like I let everyone down. My parents, the team that worked on this movie with me…” His voice trails off, and you can feel the vulnerability in his words.

“You didn’t let anyone down,” you say firmly, your tone leaving no room for doubt. “Your parents are proud of you. I’m proud of you. I know Richard and Adria and the rest of the team that worked on this are proud of you too. Being nominated is a huge accomplishment, and everyone knows how much work you put into this.”

He doesn’t respond right away, but you feel him relax a little more against you. Your fingers continue their rhythmic motion through his hair, and the tension in his body seems to dissolve with every gentle stroke. The room is quiet except for the soft murmur of the TV in the background and the even sound of his breathing.

“You make everything better,” he finally whispers, his voice so quiet you almost don’t hear it.

You smile softly, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head. “That’s what I’m here for.”

Glen doesn’t say anything else, but his arms tighten around you, holding you close like you’re his anchor in the storm. And in that moment, you know you’re exactly where you’re meant to be—right here, grounding him when he needs it most.

[lavenders388]

HII!!

could we please get some kang dae ho x reader??

something where he’s a bit of his usual himbo self and the reader is maybe a bit airheaded— something about two people being in love with one another while the world around them is burning is amazing.

~Flowers in December~

<3 Kang Dae Ho x Reader

requested 💌

authors note: i am amazed by the amount of requests and also so flattered!! I am so happy to get back into writing not only for myself but to be able to make other people happy to see their ideas come to life!! i apologize if this has some flaws i cant wait to get more practice in and promise the next will be better!! feedback is always appreciated! thank you all so much!!<3 -matcha

~~~~~~~~~~~⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆~~~~~~~~~~~

...

~takes place during the second night~

"we should all take turns keeping watch over the group" player 456 urged as the warning for lights out echoed throughout the room, the rest of the group silently agreeing- trusting the man who claimed to have been in one of the previous games, leaving as the sole survivor. you were, as were many others, reluctant to believe that he had done all of this before, but after his help in the first game and joining his team for the second, you grew to trust him; and the other members of your group. the man that had been assigned your partner for keeping watch was coincidentally a member you were drawn to specifically- at first because he was close to your age, his boyish face making you feel a little less scared and alone in the second game, and eventually you appreciated his outward personality and kindhearted confidence, a stark contrast to the situation you both were in. as you sat together, although trying to protect your group from whatever could happen in the dark room, you felt even safer. "how in the world did you pull that off?" you broke the silence with a whisper, referring to him playing gonggi in the previous game. "my hands were shaking so badly i could barely even hold my ddakji." he laughs, a bit louder than he should have given the people sleeping, but it made you smile. "i told you all i played with my sisters!" he chuckles. "you said you know how to do it yeah," you retorted, stifling a giggle at him being unaware of the compliment. "you didn't tell us you were amazing at it, that was a surprise." he turns away, embarrassed of how deeply your compliment made him grin and scared you'd see him blushing even in the dark. "thank you y/n." he says bashfully as he regains his composure. the silence returns; the reality of where you're both having this conversation threatening to creep back in. his gaze softens as he turns to you again, "you did really well with your ddakji you know, doing it the first try is really impressive, especially given the circumstances." you smile, a toothy grin as not only are you proud of yourself but you appreciate the compliment; especially from him. the kind, authentic way he states how good you did has you unable to find a response. "t-thank you" you say, blushing and still smiling. "it helped that nobody was there, i get nervous when people are watching me." his demeanor changes. he nervously runs his hands through his hair. "I'm sorry if i made you nervous, y/n" he says sincerely. your confusion shows on your face until you realize what he means. "oh no don't worry! i meant the crowd, like how everybody was cheering for the other teams! i didn't want them all to see if i messed up. you watching me helped actually. it made me less nervous." the silence returns; comfortingly. you've forgotten where you are, you've forgotten what would have happened if you'd messed up, all that's on your mind is the man sitting next to you. when you look back he's staring at you. smiling. "thank you for being on my team." you say to him as he turns away, trying to hide how long he was looking at you. you've never seen him speechless before. "if we work together nothing can stand in our way." he said to you just as he said to jung bae before the game. "i am truly honored you feel that way." you half-joke. "what are your plans for tomorrow?" you ask as if youre speaking to him in a normal situation. "oh wait im sorry!" you laugh. "well i bet they're the same as mine then!" you joke about your forgetfulness as well as making light of where you find yourself. like hes done for you, he also had forgotten the events of the day and what followed tomorrow. the two of you talking made him feel as though he was living a good, normal day. it was greatly appreciated by him, your bubbly nature being a moment of solace.

a/n if this is buns at all please lmk what i can do better!!! ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆

[vaguely-concerned]

imagining that while rook is gone, about a week and a half or so in, there's one night where lucanis suddenly appears unannounced in illario's room in the way he has of doing that and which could scare anyone else to death on its own, but of all people in the world illario is the most inclined to only find it mildly annoying to look up from his bad boy Brooding and also facemask-equivalent beauty routine (can't be tragically denied even being doomed by the narrative if you ain't cute) to find his cousin -- now first talon of the crows at least in name -- suddenly staring at him intently and expressionlessly from a few meters away. and when illario (half-jokingly, half-seriously, all-yearningly because crows live bad) is like 'ah so is this finally it are you here to kill me' even with no vengeful purple glow in evidence lucanis just snorts scathingly to show all the seriousness with which he still takes that idea and illario has to wistfully be like 'no, I thought not. so to what do I owe the honour, then, first talon. I figured you'd be pretty busy out there by now'.

and lucanis doesn't say anything at all, just stands there silently for a while and then sits down in a corner of the room with his back against the wall and buries his face in his hands. you have to understand how crucial it is for my vision here that they Do Not talk about it. they never talk about it, not in that moment and not later. illario doesn't have the first idea what 'it' could even be, once he's asked 'is it -- caterina? did something happen to...' (feeling suddenly and absurdly as much like a little boy again as lucanis just had before covering his face) and gotten the slightest headshake in response, nothing else he tries to ask even gets a reaction.

everything is all fucked up and nothing is ever going to be like it used to and the fact that this is where lucanis thought to go about whatever has happened to make his eyes look like that is ludicrous on so many levels and in so many ways. but I do think illario eventually sighs and at least sits down on the floor next to him, leaving a bigger distance between them than he might have once both in self-defense and out of something like consideration. 'I'd ask if you'd like to talk about it, but of course I know you. you never do'. (even with everything else that has happened, illario still knows lucanis better than almost anyone in the world. few things could have convinced him that maybe it really is his cousin in there still quite like this prolonged and complete lack of communication lol.) in the silence they fail to keep each other company in the same way they have for years, but maybe they can at least be honest about it now.

and then when lucanis gets to his feet like this entire very strange silent last half hour never happened to brush dust from his clothes and say he has to go... what can illario really do but go 'sure. great talk, as always. happy to be of service' from the floor as he watches his cousin disappear again into the night. I imagine illario wearing some sort of opulent bath robe or something through this whole thing by the way I think that's an important detail to get in there

[mejaemin]

timeless - lee donghyuck

wc: 1.6k

summary: visiting a photobooth, yours and hyuck’s love is evident, and with your pair of photo strips it’s now timeless <3

warnings: not proofread, sexual jokes, so much fluff, don’t read this if you’re single !!! it’s so cute and so romantic it will make you feel lonely !!! (i say while being single)

an: umm i may or may not have written this in one hour… i was completely stuck and decided to write a sentence, see what happens, and then all of a sudden i finished it 😨 i hope you all enjoy !!! i actually love this sm (˶◜ᵕ◝˶) tysm to my love @cigsaftersuh for requesting !!! enjoy ♡

(caramel masterlist here!! ʕ ᵔⰙᵔ⠕ʔ)

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

you’re making your way to the end of the amusement park, everyone in your group feeling very out of it. since at least two rides ago, your child, technically your boyfriend, had been dragging his feet. all of hyuck’s friends were getting tired too, you could see it in the way their eyes drooped and they lazily chewed at the cotton candy and other snacks in their hands.

it truly was a fun day, heading out at around noon to go to an amusement park all day with hyuck and his friends. it was something that you were truthfully dreading, being that you never really liked them that much, but the way his face lit up at the idea of attending was something you could never say no to. and truthfully, after a while they weren’t so bad. maybe their frontal lobes have all developed and are finally becoming men with humor that isn’t backed by jokes about farts and genitalia.

anyway, you’re getting closer to the entrance when donghyuck finally stops using you as a human crutch, grabbing your attention before pointing toward something in the distance. following the direction of his finger, you spot a photobooth in the distance and you’re immediately making your way towards it. he takes a large sip of whatever heavily sugared drink he bought earlier in the day, using it to wake up before telling the group where you’re running off to.

“we’re going to the photobooth, so don’t leave us while we’re in there.” he says, stretching and shaking away his fatigue.

immediately, jaemin’s looking at the metal box and its red curtain, smirking. “yeah, we’ll be waiting. don’t do anything other than take photos though..”

hyuck was fully ready to start fighting back, already forming an explanation as to why exhibitionism is perfectly fine but jaemin’s obnoxious cackles overpowered any and all of his rebuttals. accepting the slap on his shoulder, he huffs, making his way over to you.

you’re waiting patiently outside the booth, some other group already in there. he stands beside you, snaking an arm around your waist as you lean against the wall of it. truthfully, hyuck didn’t even have any sort of affinity towards them, but knowing you do he was more than happy to help you take any opportunity to visit them. he’s even bought you one of those cute binders for all your photo strips, pairing the gift with deco stickers for you to cover it in. of course, he got two to keep him and your friends separate as well.

“did you have fun?” you ask, pulling him out of his still sleepy daze.

he turns to you, smiling softly. “of course. best day ever.” he leans in, giving you a kiss to your cheek. “you didn’t have to say yes though, ‘cause i could tell you were hesitating when i asked.”

you flush, despite knowing he always sees through you. “yeah.. but now that we actually did it, i’m really enjoying myself. your friends aren’t that annoying anymore, too.”

he chuckles, sucking air in through his teeth. “of course. you showed me the way, so i enlightened them too.”

you hum, taking his arm in yours, resting your head on his shoulder. the sun is a perfect orange-purple, and the lights adorning all the attractions have flickered on a while ago. it’s truly picture worthy, but you’re more tired than you’d like to admit and choose to stay in the moment. you can see the group sitting at a picnic table, jisung’s flash accidentally turning on as he and the others try snapping photos of you two, and they giggle softly. you turn to point it out to hyuck but the other group is leaving.

he’s already dragging you in, sliding into the cramped booth before pulling you into his lap. before you can even make an attempt at paying for the photo strips he’s pulling his wallet from your bag (yes yours, why get something to carry his stuff when he buys you enough for the both of you?) and making the payment.

“how many?” he asks, gesturing to the screen in front of you. his arms slide around your waist, his hands resting over your stomach. the way his thumbs glide against your stomach make you feel a little dazed as you try reading the options, but eventually you pick the option with two strips.

“two copies. one for me, one for you.” you say simply, reaching out to click your option.

the countdown immediately starts, and you’re both full of giggles as you hurriedly try to decide your first pose. he’s throwing plenty out like spitfire, and through your fit of laughter you’re denying every one. ‘no, i’m not doing a nerd pose!’ or ‘nooo, something cuter!’ coming from you as he tickles you in attempt to stop your protests. eventually, the ten second countdown comes to an end, and the first photo snaps to capture a photo of you both giggling.

“aw, hyuckie, come on! i wasn’t even ready!” you complain, playfully swatting at his shoulder.

“oops. sorry mama, but come on. you’ll look hot regardless of how ready you were.” he dramatically looks you up and down, and you roll your eyes at his over the top flirting.

glancing at the screen, there’s eight seconds left, and you take his face in your palms. “let’s do an actually good one now.” there’s a speaker beeping signalling the last three seconds, and that’s when you lean in, giving hyuck a sweet, slow kiss.

even after the shutter sounds, he’s bringing you closer, pulling away to give you two, three more before he finally pulls away.

you sigh, recollecting yourself. “last one.. let’s be tame this time, okay?”

he nods obediently, ready to listen to you now that his need for your kisses has been fulfilled. you lean in, smushing your cheek against his with the cutest pout, and he mimics it immediately. with your hand brought up to his, you make a heart together, of course not without bending your pointer finger to make it a cat. the camera flashes one last time, and once the large pink bubble letters say you’re done, you excitedly get out of the booth to receive the printed strips.

waiting for them to fall out of the opening, you’re nearly bouncing on your feet. hyuck’s got your bag and he pulls his phone out, sneakily taking a few photos of you in your excitement before pocketing it for later. you’re just too beautiful for him to not capture it forever, your eyes glimmering with the multicolored lights all around you. once the photo strips are printed you pull them out, and you squeal, your smile growing impossibly bigger.

the first photo, of you giggling, is so perfect. you were apprehensive at first, afraid it was gonna catch your worst angle being that it was unexpected but it couldn’t have been better. your eyes are shut, smile big with pure joy. hyuck is looking up at you, his eyes glimmering with so much love. you didn’t notice it in there, but now that you’re looking at the photo your entire body heats at the way he’s looking at you like you’re the entire world.

the second one, you kissing, is adorable. you can’t wait to post it, knowing all your friends will be swooning over your relationship and you’ll be getting so many compliments about it. your hair is covering your face, the majority of it capturing the back of your head, but donghyuck is in almost full view. his eyes are shut, and his hand is making its way to the back of your head. the picture is radiating with love, and there’s no doubt in your mind that you’ll be showing it to your kids one day, and maybe even theirs.

the final one of you in your heart pose is the cherry on top, not outwardly romantic, balancing the other two out perfectly. you two look adorable in your little world together. your hand is on his cheek, pulling him into you, and both your lips are puffing up into a pout with how your faces smush together. it’s so you, and you know everyone will be able to tell you picked the pose out with the kitty heart.

there’s a pink, heart patterned frame around the photos, and at the bottom there’s the name of the park and a date. it blends the three photos together perfectly, and you’re thankful there’s no face warping photo. there’s a little bit of an orangey, hazy coloring over them, but it makes it all the better, giving it an old-timey romance vibe. hyuck’s skin is the right shade in all of them too, his tan being safe from any whitewashing technology.

“damn, can i see them yet?” he complains, coming forward and taking one of the two from you.

you look up at him expectantly, watching his reaction as his eyes trail down the strip. his cheeks flush, and he’s smiling lovingly at them. saying nothing, he looks to you and pulls you in for the sweetest hug, leaving a kiss at the top of your forehead.

as you make your way back to the group, he wraps his arm around your shoulder, “i actually really love this. like, i’m gonna get it tattooed right here.” he turns to you, already laughing at himself as his free hand makes a line across his forehead.

you giggle, leaning into him. “you’re so stupid! don’t do it, the photo is permanent enough.”

“true, true,” he says, laughing as you make your way to his friends, showing the photo strip. they’re all groaning, complimenting you two and your cuteness, all while complaining about their loneliness.

looking back down at his copy, his smile is soft. he’s the luckiest man in the world, having you, and he’ll be sure to never lose the strip as a way to remember and keep you forever.

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

[revelboo]

YOU 🫵 AGAIN HAVE FORSAKENED ME

I went to Walmart and saw THIS and was like, yeah I need that 😭 THEY HAD SO MUCH TF:ONE STUFF TOO?? My bank account is crying already 😭😭

Sorry for shit quality. I was excited 😅

All the figures! 🤣 Do it, do it, do it

Everything Is Alright Pt 104

IDW Starscream x Reader, Megatron x Reader, Soundwave x Reader

• “Problem?” Megatron growls, tempted to reach and touch you just to antagonize Starscream, but something about the expression on the Seeker’s face is almost dangerous. Furious and desperate and barely in control. “You should be gentler with your mate,” he says instead as Starscream’s optics narrow. Remembering those ragged sounds of grief you’d made and the way they'd twisted through his spark. You're only human and he shouldn't even care, but those sounds had bothered him. Never wants to hear them again. Sliding off the berth, he towers over the Seeker, ignoring as Starscream flares his wings. “Don’t make our pet cry again or I’ll take it out on you.”

• Gritting his denta as he stands his ground, Megatron shoulders past him, unconcerned with his anger. Not seeing him as a threat. Turning when the door closes behind Megatron, he mass shifts and grabs Soundwave’s shoulder, trying to pull him away. Hissing through his denta when the communications officer loops a possessive arm around you. Refusing to let you go from where he has you in his lap. “You left,” Soundwave growls in warning and his wings droop.

• “I came back,” Starscream mutters, optics sliding to you and expression softening. Kneeling beside Soundwave and offering you his hand. Asking you to come to him willingly. And you're not sure that you want to. Soundwave stayed and he didn't. “I’ll always come back for you.” But he still left you. Again. “Please?” That raspy whisper does you in and you reach for him, let him pull you to him and wrap his arms around you.

• “You keep hurting me,” you whisper and Soundwave’s spark constricts, hearing the unspoken ‘and I keep letting you.’ Knows you love the Seeker and he hates that fact right now. Hates Starscream as the Seeker rests his chin on top of your head, optics shuttering. Because he’s not sure the other mech understands how badly his rejection and denials hurt you. That alone convincing him that he needs Megatron tied to you. Someone that can force Starscream to be better. Because he won’t allow him to hurt you again. He can't. You'll forgive him in time. Realize that this was the only way. That it was all for you, to protect you.

• Grinding his denta at the pain in your voice and that you don’t sound surprised, like you expected him to hurt you. And that hurts him spark deep. Don’t you understand how much you mean to him? That you’re home and now a future? That you're the only spot of warmth and happiness in his life? Wings flicking as he tries to ignore Soundwave watching and listening, he tips your chin up and brushes his mouth against the corner of yours, nudging your forehead with his helm. "I was afraid," he admits, lips brushing yours, hating saying it out loud. Owning up to the fear and insecurity. Little, soft hands touch his face as you brush a kiss against him.

• "You think I'm not?" Because you're terrified and the one person who should have been there, ran away. Again. Really, you're the one in the dark here. Sparklings? You have no idea how this is going to work. Because the thought of actually birthing something like him, metal not soft flesh like you? There are so many questions, but you're half afraid if you ask them, he'll panic and bolt again. He's already so fidgety and uncomfortable. But he still loops his arm around you, holding you close. And you want to believe that he won't abandon you again, but you're not sure that you can anymore. Once is an accident, but twice?

Previous

Next

[cherrysurf]

Winning you back

-where the haikyu boys try to win back you their ex gf.

-contains; daichi, suga, hinata, kageyama, kenma, kuroo, suna, osamu

winning you pt.2!

Daichi; This man is a cop BEST FUCKING BELIEVE hes out patrolling by your usual bars definitely not on purpose to watch over you, so of course you coming out a bar hammered and ready to head home but your friends wanting you drag you to another bar you quickly look for an alibi and who was the best one the cop that was standing right behind you “uh huh no can do this officer said he’d arrest me if i went to another bar right sir” you say slurring your words a bit “that’s right ma’am” the voice sounding awfully familiar till you turn around and see daichi which made your cheeks turn painfully red not just from the alcohol now.. “w-well come on you know the way back to my house let’s go.” you say flustered but really can’t back down now “alright let’s go missy want me to carry you like i used too can you walk home?” he said, smirking very much enjoying this. “carry me.” you whispered “huh? I can't hear you, can you say it louder?” he asked cupping his ear as if to mock you “oh whatever daichi i can walk” you say pushing past him to walk ahead, when you feel strong buff arms pick you up “it’s Mr.daichi to you tonight yn.” he said laughing you roll your eyes and scoff.

sugawara; THIS MAN he is pulling out the “oh the kids wanted me to bring this to you they said they miss you dropping off my lunches and saying hi” because of course you still kept in contact after the breakup because he was mature on it and it was just because you guys were so close and you had formed a bond with his students so imagine how excited him and the kids get when you come in a week later bringing suga lunch “OOOO MISS YN IS BACKKKK” they all say, safe to say suga knew he had you back into his life after that day

hinata; this man is PERSISTENT he’d send you tickets for all his home games even if you guys aren’t talking and then one fateful night it was a big important game for hinata that you had knew about before you two had ended things so you decided to show up and wear his jersey in support, the tickets he’d always give you were up close to the court so if you ever did show up he’d know. Imagine the look on his face when he saw you, he was already feeling down and was actually starting to give up hope on any idea of you coming back together. that all changed after he saw you not just being there but wearing his jersey at that, safe to say he showed off and won and took you out to dinner as a “thank you” gift.

kageyama; I know everyone writes kageyama nonchalant but imagine YEARNING KAGEYAMA with me for a sec this man is sending you flowers every other week the first time he sent you them with a note a attached to it saying “even if we’re not together i refuse to have your flower vase empty so let me take care of that for you.” and it’s never the same flowers it’s always perfect curated ones for every week or two that somehow perfectly aligned with your mood, maybe it’s because he still follows you on instagram even if you have him on follow back because he cares about you, so it’s your birthday week and the wave of presents you get from this man ALONE was insane and then on your birthday you wake up to tons of tags and mentions but one stuck out specifically it was from kageyama's instagram on his VERY PUBLIC might i add it’s a picture of you but not your face showing with a small sentence saying “happy birthday ml i’ll never stop caring for you” safe to say that night you went out to a birthday dinner with him.

kuroo; you and him ended on good terms and also because you two had booked a trip before you two had broken up that you still decided to go on, you thinking it was a simple get together for break maybe even going off to do your own things at the place but for kuroo it was a week long of “how to get yn back” it involved romantic dates, walks on the beach, impressing you, dressing up, compliments alamode the whole nine. Which worked out successfully because by the time you guys came back he was already talking about getting engaged.

kenma; You two wouldn’t have been on speaking terms for about 3 weeks until you noticed an invite sent to you on discord to join a minecraft world, you being bored and curious click on it and find that he made an ENTIRE world dedicated to you and saying sorry, i kid you not even minutes later you get a knock at your door, as you look down you find a gift basket for all your favorite snacks, gift cards from various of your favorite stores, v-bucks and a cute apologetic note. You know kenma knows that he's probably lingering around the area in his car. That’s when you text him “doors unlock come inside let’s 1v1 i know you brought your gaming stuff.” and that he did, NOT EVEN 5 minutes later you hear a knock and kenma with a smile and arms full of his gaming stuff.

suna; he’d take a different approach to getting you back because as serious as he was he was always super funny so imagine your reaction when you hear music coming from your front yard while it was raining to find suna with a boombox over his head blasting your favorite song, you ended up recording this whole ordeal and sending it to atsumu and osamu since they needed some blackmail after countless years of blackmail suna had on them, by the second repeat of the song you had called him to come inside and gave him a warm cup a tea as you laugh about the situation and he gets spammed by texts from the miyas about how stupid it was of him to do this he didn’t care because he was wrapped up in your blanket, with your tea you made for him, and was gonna stay at your house because the rain only got worse after that.

osamu; It’s been about a week of no contact even though neither of you had mentioned it, it was killing you both. Anyways it was the first day of your period and you were craving his cooking because you fully believed it was the only thing that healed you from cramps as you were about to head out for the convenient store to find something to suppress your cravings that’s until you see him at your door which startled you a bit “gosh osamu you scared me what are you doing here?” you asked confused yet happy “uhm i still had your period tracker on my phone..NOT IN A WEIRD WAY i promise i just forgot to delete it and i know how you usually like my food on the first day since it’s your worst day so i'd figure id stop by..” he said nervously “well..you guess right i was gonna go to the store if you wanna come we can get groceries so you can cook i don’t have anything right now” you say happy inside that he came to your rescue “okay i'll drive.” he says happily to weasel his way back into his pretty ex gfs life

[rafesbangs]

𝜗𝜚 bunny!reader has always had a thing for a regular at her bookstore, older!rafe only comes in to see her

c!w; mdni !! older!rafe, dom!rafe, bunny!reader, age-gap (reader is 18+), size kink, rafe gets called 'daddy' a few times, dirty talk, mutual pining obviously, 'unprotected' sex, p in v, creampie, overstimulation (if you squint), cum play, cum eating, oral (f. receiving)

notes; i had such bad writer's block during the making of this so i apologise if this isn't my best work... also its kinda long before the smut but it needed some plot !!

you'd just gotten a job at a new cozy bookstore in town. it was perfect, had rows and rows of every genre of book a person could think of and a lovely little cafe with a cozy area to read in too. you loved working there, and had recently gotten much more comfortable after finally getting the hang of everything.

there were quite a few regulars that would come in for the coffee and a book, lots were mothers with quiet children that would sit down in the children's corner and read, others were just people of all ages that particularly enjoyed sitting in the bookstore for hours.

you were stacking shelves the first time you saw him; tall, gorgeous and smiling slightly under his cute scruffy moustache. he was flicking through the non-fiction books. though he didn't look like someone that read, adorned in workwear and partially grubby clothing, most likely from his blue collar job.

you could tell he was definitely older, around ten years your senior but still so pretty. after that first minor interaction you started seeing him come in a lot more, every other day basically. you'd worked up the courage to say hi to him after a few more times of seeing him and although your face was probably bright red, he smiled wide and started a conversation with you.

after the ice had been broken you would always talk to him when he came into the bookstore, it got to a point where he wasn't even pretending to be interested in the books around him anymore, he obviously had come in there to see you again.

rafe had also started coming in early before work started, he looked so good in his carhartt jacket and big boots, not yet dirty from a days work. he'd make sure you were the one to make his coffee, always mumbling something about you having a secret gift as he grinned, letting his hand linger over yours when he'd take his cup.

the tension between the two of you was palpable, your friends and co-workers would make jokes about how no one needed to read romance books in there anymore, they had a whole story playing out in front of them.

you would always laugh and smile at their comments, smitten over the idea of being with rafe but there was always the lingering thought that it was just friendly flirting. nothing more. he probably had a girlfriend, or a wife or something. he was too old and too gorgeous, why would he actually want anything to do with little old you.

these thoughts had you spiralling significantly on one particular day; what if you were wasting all your time and feelings on this older guy that would never want you? would you ever get over him? would you be alone forever?

you were zoning out - hard - as you slid the last few books of your shift onto the shelf, you nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw him standing in front of you with a grin.

"sorry, did i give you a fright?" he mumbled, steadying you with his touch, "'thought you'd heard me when i said y'name but there must be s'much goin' on in that head of yours."

you took a breathe and smiled weakly at him, not being able to shake your pessimistic thoughts from seconds before as he stood in front of you, handsome and speaking.

"no, sorry- lots on my mind i guess" you shrugged, fiddling with your fingers. rafe's brow furrowed, he'd seen you stressed and frustrated because of work but never like this, anxious and pensive.

he tilted his head a little, "what's wrong hm?" he softly coaxed, looking deep into your eyes as he reached out and rubbed your arm with his thumb.

you looked up at him through your lashes, "nothing.. nothing really..." you mumbled, chewing your lip a little.

his gaze darkened as he watched you, "something you wanna ask me bunny?"

you shook your head after shuddering at the nickname. a nickname only rafe used with you, it never failed to give you goosebumps down your body and cause your thighs to squeeze together a little, "don't worry.. er, i'm about to close up in a minute - you don't mind walking me to my car do you?"

his pursed lips melted into a smile and he looked up for a second before nodding. you smiled at him before finally putting away the last few things and grabbing the bookstore's keys. rafe followed you out as you left the store and locked the doors from the outside.

"cold tonight hmm" rafe remarked, looking out at the dim parking lot and neighbouring streets as he walked close to you. you hummed in agreement, readjusting the jacket tighter around you.

when you finally reached your car you looked up at him with a longing smile before he tilted his head, grinning at you, "you gonna tell me what you were thinking about earlier?"

you shook your head, nerves chewing at your lip again.

"c'mon, 'm not gonna see you tomorrow, 'ts your day off bunny, can't make me just wonder all this time hm?" he playfully whined, inching his body closer to yours. you were a little stunned by his words.

"you remember my day off's tomorrow?" the nerves were rising in your tummy now, bubbling around and exploding.

he smirked, sliding your hand into his, "course i'd know when the only reason i go into that bookshop isn't there."

"rafe" you gushed, covering your face a little and shaking your head. you couldn't believe your ears, you thought you weren't stupid or anything but here you were, hearing that he wanted you the whole time. "i thought you were just.. i don't know, entertaining the idea of me this whole time..."

his lips parted and brow furrowed as if it was completely incomprehensible that he might've not actually wanted you, "bunny... you must be talking pure shit now because i thought i'd made it obvious i wanted you from the second i'd gotten to know you."

you chewed at your lip, heat pooling in your tummy as he instinctively inched closer to you as he spoke. all you wanted to do now was jump his bones, and you kept glancing down at the bulge in his pants as it became closer and closer to you.

he noticed your wandering eyes and laughed a little, throwing his head back before sliding both hands up your arms carefully, "...so you said you don't have heating huh?"

you nodded, feeling dizzy at the realisation of what he was about to ask you.

he scoffed with a grin, "see, i've got heating at my place that works pretty well, and - bunny, with the way you're looking at me right now, i think we're better off going there."

you smiled, staring up at him through your lashes before nodding and in an instant he'd grabbed your hand, leading you to his truck. the drive was probably fairly quick, but it felt like hours of agony to the both of you as you patiently waited. rafe's hand was possessively gripping your thigh and you felt wetness in your panties thinking about where else his hands would trail to.

it was a blur, stumbling out of his truck and into his house, you barely looked at the place before the two of you, sloppy and all over each other, had made it to his bedroom. your body was on vibrate but he took a second to take his huge jacket and long sleeve shirt off.

you breathed heavily, eyes widening when street light through the window illuminated his toned chest, he was built like a greek god and you nearly moaned at the thought of all that being all over you.

he teasingly peeled your clothes off, article by article, grinning all the way. he could see you twitching and heavily breathing at every movement, it only fuelled him more.

finally you were in nothing but panties and a bra, matching of course, which made rafe's eyes go wild, "jesus, look at you." he breathed, running his hands along the side of your body as you lay under him.

you slid your arms around his neck and tried to pull him in but he grinned at your lack of strength and you frowned playfully, squirming at the lack of action.

"you gonna ask nicely bunny?" his lips were centimetres away from yours, he was really enjoying teasing you now.

"please... please i want you inside me so bad" you whined, pouting and running your hands into his shaggy mullet. he smirked and leaned in, passionately pressing his lips to yours, engulfing you in heat.

your hands pulled at his jeans, ripping down the zipper as you slid a palm across his clothed cock, gasping at his lips over how big you found him to be.

he tugged himself out of his boxers before lowering down to your core, you burned with desire as you watched the greek god looming over you, slowly bully his cock into your weeping hole.

you groaned at the feeling, his cock slowly slipping all the way down, filling you to the hilt. your grip around his neck tightened, along with his hands holding you steady at your hips.

he drilled into you at an unrelenting pace, the sound of his cock diving in and out of your wet pussy causing him to groan gutturally, "uhghh, you like this big cock baby? c'mon, tell me you've been thinking about daddy's cock since you met me hmm"

you eyes were rolling back, the pleasure becoming too much already, "mmmh i think about daddy's cock all the time... oh! fuuuck."

you looked down at your tummy, a clear huge bulge poking everytime rafe drove his dick into you, only making you dizzier. he was just so big.

a creamy line of arousal was thick around the base of rafe's cock, your breath all ragged as he continued to drill into you, toying with your clit to overstimulate you.

you were shaking under him, one hand gripping onto a bicep and the other tugging the sheets beside you. the sheer girth of him was splitting you open, rafe grinned at the yelps escaping your lips with every thrust.

"pussy's swallowing me whole, fuck bunny" he grunted into your lips, launching in for yet another seering kiss while his thrusts became sloppy but deeper. plap-plap-plap filled the room along with your pornographic moans.

"nghh daddy, i'm- oh, g'na cum!" you cried, nails digging into his flesh.

he was panting into your neck, "'know baby, can feel your pussy milking me- fuuuuuck" you felt the rush of your orgasm as rafe's thick white ropes coated your insides. he continued to thrust into you a few more times, watching your pussy swallow all his cum before pulling out.

"such a good bunny, look at that shit.." he mumbled, dragging a finger over your wet whole, playing with and pushing his release back into you. "so wet..."

he dipped his head down, lapping up both your juices that had coated your folds. you twitched from the sensation, still recovering from his cock.

"rafeee- oh god- too sensitive.." you whined, hand laced in his hair. he lifted his head and looked at you with a grin, his moustache gleaming with wetness.

"oh bunny now that i've had you, shit, i'm never letting my little girl go."

[pinkolve]

A Spencer Reid Fic- The One Where He Reads Her Diary

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Summary: Spencer Reid gets pressured into reading your diary. How will things end after you find out...

Genre: Fluff, and a little angst

CW: Autistic coded!Fem!Reader, use of Y/N, a bit of dramatic? reader, sad Spencer :(, steamy kisses, slight artist!reader.

Word Count: 2,227

A/N: I'm not the best at writing in a reader's perspective!! I always write my fics with myself in mind, so y/n is usually very similar to myself. I hope you still enjoy this anyways, and let me know if you have any tips for writing x reader fics!! Thank you! <33

Y/N’s always been an honest person, she always tells people exactly what she thinks. She’s blunt, but still kind. Y/N believes that everyone deserves to know the truth, especially when specifically asking for it. But, she also has millions of secrets piled up. Some of them, people know. The others…No one knows, except her diary. 

Y/N had just turned twenty-two a few months ago. Some would argue she’s much too old for a diary, while others would say how beneficial it is for the mind. Like Spencer Reid, for example. He himself had a journal, he just hadn’t used it nearly as much as she did.

He used his journal to talk about important events or changes in his life, while Y/N used it for everything. She wrote everything she ever thought, and drew whatever came to mind. 

The one mistake she had made from the start was keeping her diary in her work bag…That she always left on her desk when she left for the bathroom. 

***

“Reid, man, come on. You need to tell her eventually.” Morgan bantered, standing right next to Spencer’s desk. 

“I’d rather not look like an idiot, Morgan.” Spencer slightly rolled his eyes, still focused on his paperwork. 

“You already do?” Morgan said, confused. Spencer looked up with a scowl. “I’m just messin’ with you Pretty Boy! Just ask her out for coffee, nothing wrong with coffee.” He shrugged. Spencer simply shook his head, staring back down at his files. Morgan shook his own head in disapproval before walking back to his own desk, passing Y/N’s in the process. 

As he passed by, his hip bumped the half-open bag on her desk, knocking it to the floor. Morgan immediately turned around and swore. He set his mug down on the desk and bent down to grab her bag. He took notice of a surprisingly thick notebook. He picked it up and reveled at how heavy it was. Morgan looked at the cover to read ‘Diary.’ His eyes immediately widened. 

A smirk took over his face as he placed the bag back on her desk and carried the journal back over to Reid’s desk. Once he was close enough, he threw the journal on the desk with a particularly loud ‘thud.’ Lucky for the two of them, the office was mostly empty so they were able to pull more shenanigans than usual. 

Spencer looked over at the cover and looked up at his friend with furrowed brows. 

“What is this?” 

“Y/L/N’s diary. Fell out of her bag.” He gestured behind him. Spencer’s face went white, his jaw dropping, and eyes almost bursting out of his head. 

“You cannot be serious! Put this back!” He jumped up from his desk, journal in hand, ready to bring it back to its rightful home. 

“Woah there, Pretty Boy!” Morgan put his palms against Reid’s chest, pushing him back in his desk chair. “You have a major advantage here. You read that, and you’ll probably know everything Y/N’s ever thought about you.” He wiggled his eyebrows. Spencer’s face was angry. “Look Reid, if Y/N finds out I’ll take all the blame. I’ll tell her I read it to you and you didn’t want anything to do with it.” Spencer looked down at the book in his hands, contemplating. 

“I can’t believe I’m letting you convince me into doing this.” Spencer sighed, shaking his head to himself. He hated the idea of invading his best friend’s privacy but he was also still a man. A man with a terrible crush on said best friend. How could he hold her very diary in his own two hands and not read a single word? “One page, that’s it!” Spencer groaned while Morgan ‘woo-hooed.’

Spencer took notice of just how thick the journal was before opening to the newest page. He held the book open gently, praying he wouldn’t break it since it was falling apart already. He looked at the left page, two messy sketches were drawn there in pen. They both were of him, the specific view Y/N had of him from her own desk. These are actually pretty good…He thought to himself. 

“Holy shit, Reid. Is that you?” Morgan practically gasped. 

“Yeah.” He whispered, too entranced by the book. The right page had an entry. 

11/10/24 Sunday, 6:22 pm

Dear Diary, 

Today hasn’t been very eventful. I came into work to try and finish some of my paperwork. Morgan and Spencer apparently had the same idea. I’ve been feeling so weird around Spencer lately. I can’t quite put my finger on why. Usually I feel fine around him, he is my best friend after all. I think it may have something to do with the wet dream I had about him last night…I can’t quite shake it from-

“Okay! That’s enough!” Spencer shut the book harshly, his face beet red. Morgan looked at him with a wide grin. 

“Why wouldn’t you keep reading? It was just gettin’ good!” He chuckled. Spencer glared at him. “Well, now we know she likes you.” Morgan smirked. 

“This doesn’t prove anything! People have wet dreams about other people when they don’t even like them, all the time!” Spencer almost screamed. Just then, Y/N came in through the large glass doors, letting out a loud sigh and stretching. She took one look at her desk and groaned. 

“Derek Morgan, I told you to stop leaving your coffee on my desk!” She complained, grabbing it angrily. She looked over at the two, their faces covered in guilt. “What happened to you guys?” She questioned. 

“Nothing. Nothing at all!” Spencer yelled, awkwardly covering the journal with both his arms. Y/N walked towards them while chuckling. 

“Come on guys, you look totally guilty. What’d you do?” She smiles at Morgan then looks over at Spencer, taking notice of the large lump under his arms. “What’s that? Did you accidentally buy erotica again?” She shook her head. She reached over to pry his arms away from the object. “I told you to stop-” Y/N cut myself off, staring at her own journal. Her face drained of any color and every feature on her face practically melted. 

“Y/N/N, I’m so-” Spencer started.

“Shut up.” She spit out. She tore her journal from him and slammed Morgan’s coffee on his desk, causing it to spill everywmye. She practically ran back to her own desk and packed her things. 

“Y/L/N, it wasn’t his fault. I’m the one who-” Morgan tried to reason. 

“I said shut the fuck up!” She screeched, her face red with anger and embarrassment. “I never thought you would do something like this to me. I trusted you with everything I had and you broke it like it was nothing.” She was crying now, looking between the two men. But all of them knew she was only really talking to Spencer. 

“Y/N, please-” 

“Don’t ever talk to me again you fucking asshole!” She sobbed out before running to the elevator and making a fast exit. Morgan looked over at Spencer and his heart nearly broke. Spencer looked like a wounded puppy, his eyes were wide and filled with unshed tears. He looked frozen in place, he couldn’t move a single inch. He begged any and every deity he could think of to make Y/N come back so he could explain. They hadn’t listened to any of his pleas. 

***

Y/N lay in her living room on her large corner sofa. The TV was on, playing ‘Gilmore Girls’ very loudly. She hoped to drown out any thought she had with the noise. So far, it wasn’t working. 

She hadn’t been to work in nearly a week, it was currently Saturday and no one had heard from her. She only called Hotch to tell him she wouldn’t be in for a while, sick with the flu. She sure as hell couldn’t admit that the real reason was because her crush read her diary. It felt stupid enough in middle school, she wasn’t about to say it aloud to her own boss. 

Everyone on the team was very worried, getting barely any information and zero replies from Y/N. Penny, Emily, Morgan and J.J had all come to her apartment on different occasions, begging to see her. She never let them in. The only thing she cared about was seeing Spencer, but at the same time, she never wanted to see him again. Funnily enough, Spencer was the only one who hadn’t come over. Y/N was partially glad for this because she knew if he was at her door, she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from opening it. 

Spencer had of course sent about fifty-three text messages and made twenty-four phone calls to her. Once again, all of them were ignored. Spencer was the kind of person who liked to talk in person, apologize in person. All his text messages were him begging to talk to Y/N, to let him explain. None of them actually contained any excuses or apologies. She was clearly clueless on any reasoning he had, or how much he had read, because he didn’t want to say any of it in a meaningless text. He had been waiting since Wednesday for the weekend to come rolling around. He planned to show up and explain everything, but he needed to make sure they had plenty of time to talk, hence the weekend. 

Everyone on the team knew of his plan so they all refrained from going over themselves. They just hoped the two would figure everything out. 

*** 

Y/N had just gotten out of the shower when she heard a knock on her door. She rolled her eyes to herself and sighed, looking at the time. 

“Which one of them has the brilliant idea to come over at eight in the morning?!” She yelled to herself. She softly and slowly walked against the hardwood floor, careful not to make a single noise and alert whoever was behind the door. She wouldn’t answer it but she at least wanted to know who it was this time. 

“Y/N…It’s me.” Spencer’s voice rang out and she froze. “I know you’re angry but I really need to talk to you. Please let me in.” His voice was pathetic and sad, cracking occasionally. Within seconds the door opened in front of him. There stood the girl he’s been dreaming of seeing all week. Her hair was soaking wet and so were her shoulders and arms. A towel was wrapped around her body tightly, showing off her figure. Spencer watched a single droplet of water pass down between the valley of her breasts. 

“H-Hey.” Spencer choked out. 

“Hi.” Y/N greeted shyly. 

“I need to talk to you.”

“So I heard.” She nodded a little. “What about?” 

“You know what about…” 

“Okay, fine. What specific part of that interaction would you like to discuss? What, did you just come over to make fun of me? To ridicule me for the way I feel? Did you come over here just to humiliate me even more?!” Y/N’s voice raised the more she spoke. 

“No!” Spencer yelled, cutting her off. “I don’t want to do any of that!” He sighed to himself. “I…I never should have read your diary. Morgan convinced me, and I know I should have reacted better, and not listened to him. He just kept telling me how…Convinient it would be. I’ve been scared to tell you how I really feel for the last two years. He told me that reading your diary would be the perfect way to see how you feel about me before I confessed and made an idiot of myself. I just…I had a weak moment and I hate that I hurt you in the process.” A couple tears fell from the corners of his eyes. “I’m so…So sorry, Y/N/N.” 

She looked up at him with an expressionless face. Spencer looked back into her eyes with the saddest look on his face. He was about to ask her what she was thinking when she told him instead. 

“Do you like me? Romantically?” She asked, voice monotone. 

“Of course I do. I genuinely thought it was obvious, I can never stop how flustered I get around you. All I’ve dreamed about since we became friends is spending my life with you. Whether we spend it as best friends or more, I couldn’t care less. I just want you with me every step of the way” Spencer spoke honestly. 

“Kiss me.” Y/N blurted out. Spencer’s eyes went wide. 

“W-What?” He stuttered. 

“Please.” She breathed out. “Kiss me.” Her eyes were heavy and clouded. Spencer was quick to reach down and grab the sides of her face in his hands, pushing their lips together roughly. Y/N whimpered the minute his lips touched her own. Just as fast as the kiss happened it turned sloppy. Spencer’s hands travelled down to her waist, gripping tightly. She had wrapped her arms around his neck, her breasts pushing up against his chest. Their tongues collided and twirled against each other. 

“I love you, Spencer.” She whispered against his lips. 

“I love you more, Y/N.” He sighed.

[arcanarix]

f!sorcerer reader, dubcon, stalking, possessiveness, harassment (there will be a non sorcerer reader version)

bully!satosugu aren’t your average bullies. they aren’t bogged down each time you ignore their attempts at getting under your skin. they know you’re smart and know better… but so are they and they do too. and maybe they’re less interested in breaking you down more than simply getting to know you :)

(but they need to understand you aren’t your average target. you can and will stand up for yourself. you don’t show much interest in general and that just baffles them.)

bully!satosugu…who aren’t the kind to dominate the small world of jujutsu tech one because there’s no reason for that or anything to gain from it either but they are instead viewed as just two boys sharing the same brain cell. shoko and utahime tell you not to pay them any mind; they’re just two dumbasses with an overinflated sense of importance being speshul grades. nanami even reiterates the fact. plus they annoy everyone, so it’s not like you’re a special case here.

bully!satosugu who get all up in your space and in your business, ignoring your protests when they snatch your books and notes out of your hands and lap and geto’s scooping you into his strong hold instead.

“why’s a grade 3 sorcerer wasting her time? trust me, we have better things in mind for a pretty thing like you,” geto purrs.

“and besides, what use is a grade 3 in the field when the two strongest can just take care of everything? hmmmm?” gojo taunts while fiddling with a stray strand of your hair.

instead of seeming intimidated, you’re just annoyed that your work has been disrupted. you don’t give them an outward reaction, just a deadpan, “if you don’t let me go i’ll use my curse technique to castrate the two of you.”

that seems to work for now!

bully!satosugu who…for some reason hover over you like they’re your bodyguards yet you treat them as if they’re not there the entire time. even if gojo can usually annoy someone to the point of tears, you don’t react, instead you’re able to completely tune him AND geto out.

how… Unnerving! Perplexing?

bully!satosugu who HATE to see you divert your attention to anyone else be it nanami or haibara or even shoko and utahime. something sets them off when you giggle a little too hard at some off hand deadpan remark nanami makes, you keep making eyes at him like you like him and not them. what’s up with that? and then they see nanami resting his hand on your thigh……….

and shooting a glare their way, as if to ward them off of you or else? wha?

bully!satosugu who aren’t keen on the idea of you trying to have a life outside of them (you never wanted a life with them from the start, but you digress) so they corner you in one of the empty lecture halls. you tell them you don’t know what they mean. in fact you insist, because you really don’t understand (or really care either). you have no regard for them, but they seem to hold so much interest in you and they don’t like that you don’t appreciate their attention so you had to get it instead from fucking NANAMI.

setting your book on your lap, you meet their accusatory gazes with disinterest.

“i don’t have to entertain any of this,” you remark, “i’m not interested in engaging in something like this when we’re in an environment where we’re forced to coexist. i will acknowledge you as my peers but nothing more.”

thinking you have the last word, you get up and brush past them, but geto grabs your wrist and twists you around. you grunt.

“maybe we have to show her why she should want us by her side, satoru,” he suggests in a low, dangerous tone.

“will she actually learn this time, though?”

“oh, it doesn’t matter. we can always repeat the lesson until she understands,” geto yanks you toward him until your back hits his front, your breath hitching as you feel a growing erection through his baggy uniform.

“you both might find better payoff deepthroating each other,” you scoff.

geto’s nostrils flare at that.

“such a foul mouth,” he snarls, "better watch that tone with us."

“yeah,” satoru pitches in, inching closer with a little smirk. “maybe we ought to plug it up.”

TBC???

[c1nna1nmyr0ll]

Happy Accident?

Megumi Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: aphrodisiacs, nipple play, titty sucking, vaginal fingering, finger sucking, vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, some pet names, and pulling out

a/n: one of my fav old fics teehee

Also, maybe consider signing up for the 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐦!!

The special grade curse is notorious. Notorious for evading exorcism. It’s not even that strong. Its strength is more around semi-grade two, but its unique ability is considered a special grade. Its special ability is emitting a gas that causes the victim to lose their cognitive functions making the curse able to kill the sorcerer or the curse flees.

“I’m surprised that we are both tasked with this mission, Fushiguro,” you say as Ijichi drives you and Fushiguro to where the curse resides.

“I think they don’t want to take any chances,” Fushiguro responds. “That if one of us is hit with the gas, the other can cover.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” you agree.

“Has Gojo fought this curse at all?” Fushiguro asks Ijichi.

“Not that I know of,” Ijichi replies.

“Figures,” Fushiguro scoffs.

“I’m sure you two will do just fine,” Ijichi says.

“Thanks, Ijichi,” you say. “We’ll try our best.”

After a few more minutes of the car ride, Ijichi finally gets you and Fushiguro at the curse’s hideout. An old abandoned house. You and Fushiguro get more of the rundown from Ijichi; after Ijichi sets up the barrier, you and Fushiguro head inside.

As expected, the house is dark, creepy, and dusty. Just clichés all around. As you’re trying to swat at a spiderweb in a doorway, Fushiguro speaks up behind you.

“Make sure to keep your guard up,” he says.

“Right, I will,” you respond.

“The curse could ambush us at any time,” Fushiguro continues.

“Right, yeah,” you say. Hearing his voice behind you certainly was a pleasant surprise.

“I’m gonna summon my demon dog to make sure the curse doesn’t ambush us,” Fushiguro says and maneuvers his hands into a dog shape.

“Good idea,” you say. His demon dog appears before you, and it’s already picked up a scent. You and Fushiguro follow the dog to the house’s attic, where a smaller curse is hiding. It’s definitely not the curse you’re looking for. The demon dog eats it as you and Fushiguro stand at the doorway leading to the stairs.

“Demon dog should have picked up the scent of the special grade,” Fushiguro explains. “So why didn’t he?”

“Maybe this curse has a much more powerful scent?” you suggest.

“That can’t be. If that were the case, then this curse would be stronger than the special grade,” Fushiguro looks to the demon dog finishing up the curse. You follow your eyes to the demon dog as well.

“Y/N! Look out!” you hear Fushiguro shout as he pushes you away and into a wall. You collide with the wall hard, and Fushiguro’s demon dog joins your side as the special grade curse appears.

“Fushiguro!” you shout, but the special grade has already begun to spray its gas on Fushiguro. So you and the demon dog take the opportunity to attack the curse while it’s busy with Fushiguro. You and the demon dog use your cursed energy to take down the curse.

You manage to injure the curse before it disappears into the floor and gets away. However, before you try to go after the curse, you look at Fushiguro, who is sitting on the floor, covering his eyes.

“Fushiguro, are you alright?” you lower yourself, so you’re face to face. “Lemme see if you’re injured.”

“I-I’m fine,” he says. “Just go after the curse. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” you ask. He backs away from you, and you don’t want to upset him, so you follow his instructions. “I’ll be right back.” You and the demon dog run down the stairs to take care of the curse leaving Fushiguro.

“Shit. I hope my cursed energy doesn’t…” Fushiguro feels how hot he’s getting. “Fuck.” The blush on his face is getting stronger as well. “So, this is what the curse’s ability is.”

You and the demon dog corner the curse and exorcise it quickly. You’re pretty shocked at how weak the curse actually was, but you’re guessing the gas Fushiguro was hit with is no joke.

You run back up the stairs as the demon dog finishes snacking on the curse. Fushiguro’s in the same position you left him.

“Oh, Fushiguro,” you start and sit beside him. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” he says simply. “Let’s report to Ijichi and get out of here.” You nod and follow him out. You notice he’s not acting like himself. He seems to be…slightly nervous. His hands are a little shaky, and he’s a bit quieter. What kind of gas was he hit with?

You pull out your cell phone when you’re outside and call up Ijichi.

“Hello? Ijichi speaking,” Ijichi answers.

“Hey, it’s Y/N,” you say.

“Oh, hello! Not any trouble, I hope?” he asks.

“Well, we finished off the curse, and we’re just outside waiting,” you explain.

“Oh, good,” he says.

“But Fushiguro was hit with the curse’s gas? Is he going to be okay?” you ask.

“Oh, yeah, he should be okay, but the effects last a while,” Ijichi explains. “How is he?”

“Well, he seems to be okay, not injured at least,” you tell Ijichi.

“Good,” Ijichi says. “Oh, uh, I can’t pick you guys up until tomorrow.”

“What? Why?” you ask.

“There are some sorcerers who need my help,” Ijichi explains.

“Alright, well, good luck,” you say.

“Thank you,” he says. “Don’t worry. I’ll pick you guys up first thing tomorrow.”

“Okay, sounds good,” you say. Then, finally, you and Ijichi say your goodbyes, and you hang up the phone.

“So?” Fushiguro asks.

“Well, you’re going to feel the effects of the gas for a while,” you start. Fushiguro looks upset and annoyed. “And Ijichi can’t pick us up until tomorrow.” An even worse Fushiguro Megumi annoyed face.

“Great,” he says sarcastically.

“So, I guess we should go to a hotel,” you suggest.

“Whoa, wait, what?” he asks. His nervousness is very apparent now.

“Well, we need somewhere to stay for the night. It’s already getting kind of late,” you explain to him. But, seriously, what’s up with him?

You find a hotel that’s close and within walking distance, so you and Fushiguro decide you’ll stay there. You hear his breath get heavy, and his cheeks are red. Maybe the curse gave him a fever?

When you get to the hotel, the place already looks busy as hell. People are coming and going in the lobby all around. You stumble close to Fushiguro, who tenses up when he feels you touch his chest. You apologize profusely and come to the front desk of the hotel. The lady at the front desk greets you cheerfully.

“Hello, checking in?” she asks.

“Uh, yes, could we have two rooms, please?” you ask. The front desk lady checks on the hotel computer for any room openings. You see her cringe at the results. That can’t be good.

“Unfortunately, we only have one room available,” she says.

“Oh,” you mutter. “I guess it’ll be fine for one night.” She cringes again.

“It’s a one-bedroom,” she finishes. “Meaning there’s only one bed.”

“Oh,” you mutter again. “Well, since it’s the only room available, we’ll take that one.”

“Very good,” she says. “And how will you be paying?”

“With this,” you pull out the credit card that Gojo gave you for “Jujutsu Emergencies.” You hand her the credit card, and she takes it. Then, after processing the payment, she hands the card back to you.

“Enjoy your stay,” she says.

“Thanks,” you and Fushiguro both say.

When you open the room door, the front desk lady isn’t joking around; there really is only one bed.

“Well, I’m going to get some sleep,” Fushiguro says. He begins walking towards the bed, but you stop him with your hand on his wrist.

“Wait, Fushiguro,” you say. He tenses from your touch again. “I think you should try to get your fever down. Your face is still really red, and you’re all warm.” He doesn’t say anything. “Uh, maybe take a cold shower? It could bring it down.”

“Fine,” he says simply. He stalks over to the bathroom, and you hear the shower begin to run.

You figure you’ll wait for him to be done so you can make absolutely sure that his fever went down. About 10 minutes later, Fushiguro enters the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist. The sight flusters you, and you immediately look away from him. The last thing Fushiguro expected was you sitting on the bed, not sleeping already.

“So, are you feeling better?” you ask.

“Yeah, more or less,” he answers.

“Good, good,” you say, still averting your eyes from him. Finally, Fushiguro begins to put on his clothing, so you don’t have to keep averting your eyes after he’s dressed; you and he undo the covers and climb into bed.

You both face each other and notice his face is still pretty red. And just from how close he is, he’s still warm too. So you lean your forehead against his and close your eyes trying to feel his temperature.

“I don’t think that got your fever down at all, Fushiguro,” you say. Then, you open your eyes you see Fushiguro looking at you. It really flusters you.

You’re not sure why but you find yourself leaning toward him again with a different intention. Fushiguro stops you from leaning; instead, he gets on top of you. You yelp in surprise, and he smirks as he sees your surprise.

“That face looks cute on you, Y/N,” he says. “And I like it when it’s under me.”

He leans down, and he finally kisses you. God, you’ve wanted him to kiss you for so long. You clutch at his black hair as his hands are on your hips. You open your mouth to him eagerly as he traces his tongue along your lips.

Fushiguro moves his mouth to your neck and begins to suck dark marks onto it.

“Mm, Fushiguro,” you hum. He lets go of your neck with a pop to look at you.

“Call me by my first name,” he says.

“Huh?” you utter. His eyes are dark with desire as he looks at you.

“Call me Megumi,” he commands.

“Y-yes, Megumi,” you oblige. He returns to your neck and sucks harder on it as you squirm under him. His hands move to your chest as he touches your breasts while they’re still clothed. “Please touch me, Megumi.”

“Where?” he asks.

“Anywhere; I just need to feel you,” you beg.

“Alright,” he says. He slips off your shirt and bra, tossing them on the floor. He wastes no time latching his mouth and hands on your breasts. His tongue swirls around your right nipple while his hand tweaks the left one.

“Ah! Mm, Megumi,” you moan. He sucks your nipple as your back arches to meet his mouth. Then, he switches to sucking on your left nipple instead, and he gets the same reaction out of you.

After he’s satisfied, he returns to kissing you again and begins to take off your pants. He breaks the kiss as he looks down at your panties.

“You’re so wet already,” he says. Megumi removes his shirt and tosses it alongside your decarded clothing. “Want me to use my fingers?”

“Yes, god, please,” you beg. He smirks from hearing you beg for him. Then, he removes your panties and dives his fingers into your cunt. You moan out from the feeling of his fingers inside you.

Megumi scissors his fingers inside you, stretching you out. Your walls already start to clamp down around Megumi’s fingers.

“Jesus, you’re already clamping down on my fingers,” he says. “Guess I should hurry and make you cum.”

Megumi begins to thrust his fingers into you and picks a fast pace. You close your eyes and throw your head back on the pillow. His palm bumps at your clit, and your brow knit together as you feel your orgasm already building.

“Ah! M-Megumi, don’t stop!” you shout. Megumi continues his fast pace, and you hear your juices squelch as he curls his fingers inside you. You feel your cunt sucking in his fingers. After a few more finger thrusts, you cum on Megumi’s fingers.

He brings his fingers up and sees how soaked his fingers are from your essence.

“Clean them off,” Megumi commands and brings his fingers to your lips. You immediately take the digits into your mouth and swirl your tongue around them. “Good girl.”

Once you’re done, Megumi drags his fingers out of your mouth and looks down at you.

“What do you want me to do now?” he asks you.

“Please fuck me, Megumi,” you plea. He smirks once again and takes off his pants and boxers. He once again discards them to be with the other clothing.

“How do you want me to fuck you?” he asks.

“I don’t care, just fuck me,” you practically shout. He obliges and grabs your thighs and forces them apart. Your cunt is all ready for him.

Megumi lines himself up with your entrance and slowly pushes himself in. Your breath hitches from his cock, stretching you out, and Megumi groans from the sensation. He sets a slow pace so you can get used to his length. His hands tug at your sides as he tries to contain himself. He doesn’t want to hurt you. With each of Megumi’s thrusts, you get more used to his cock.

“M-Megumi, you can go faster,” you say. He grips your hips tightly and begins fucking himself into you. You moan as he reaches your spongy spot with his thrusts. Your back arches again, but Megumi slams you back down with his hands. You thread your hands in the sheets as Megumi continues to use your pussy. Your walls clench down on his throbbing dick.

“Fuck, you’re squeezing me,” Megumi mumbles. He thrusts into you harder and faster as he chases his own high.

“Ah! Me-Megumi!” you moan. “‘M cumming again!” Your abdomen coil swiftly unravels as you cum on Megumi’s cock.

“Fuck, you came on my cock, baby,” he says. “Shit, that’s hot.” He pulls out of your pussy, strokes himself, and cums all over your chest. Your chest heaves as Megumi looks at you, covered in his cum. A look he’s decided he loves. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize; I like being covered in your cum,” you admit.

═──────────◇──────────═

When you wake up, you look at the side night table and see that you have four missed calls from Ijichi and several texts from him. Oh shit, you’re dead.

You and Megumi swiftly get dressed and run to meet Ijichi, who looks worried sick. You both apologize and get into his car, ready to head back to home base.

“So, Fushiguro, how are you doing? Are you still feeling the side effects of the curse?” Ijichi asks.

“No, I took care of it,” Megumi says.

“Huh? But you still had your fever for a bit,” you say.

“Fever?” Ijichi laughs. “No, no. The curse gives off an aphrodisiac-type gas.”

“Huh? What? Really?” you ask.

“Oh, did we not tell you?” Ijichi asks.

“No, you didn’t,” you aren’t sure how to feel about this information. “But that does explain some things.”

“How did you handle the curse’s power? No one has been able to do that,” Ijichi asks Megumi. You become flustered as you realize the circumstances of Megumi’s behavior the previous night.

“I just relied on my partner, that’s all,” Megumi answers simply.

“Huh, I didn’t expect that,” Ijichi mumbles to himself.

“Uh, Megumi,” you say quietly so only he can hear. “Does that mean that last night was…”

“The aphrodisiac only made me more frustrated and, well, later confident,” he explains. “I meant all the things I said and did.”

“Me too,” you say.

“Well, it’s lucky things turned out the way they did,” Ijichi suddenly speaks up.

“Yeah, lucky,” you agree.

“That’s one way to put it, I guess,” Megumi says.

© c1nna1nmyr0ll 2024, all rights reserved. do not plagiarize, use for ai, copy, translate, or repost my content on any platform. comments, reblogs, and likes are loved

[hees-mine]

L. Heeseung - Wrong One

Pairing: heeseung X fem reader!

Warnings: mentions of smut, cursing, reader slaps heeseung, friends with benefits, alcohol, angst.

Genre: friends with benefits.

WC: 4,582k

-

“Are you staying the night?” You asked heeseung, the guy you’ve been friends with benefits with for four months, as he rolled over on the opposite side of the bed, breathing heavily.

You two had just finished your weekly routine. By routine, you meant the both of you fucking every last ounce of energy out of each other.

He wipes his palm over his face, wiping away the sweat that gathered at his hairline. “Nah,” he says and sighs shortly after. “I never stay, you know that.” he sits up on the bed once he’s regained enough stamina.

“Yeah…. I do know that” you reply disappointedly and pulled the blankets up to your chest while he stands up, searching for all his discarded clothes.

“So….” He starts out rolling the used condom down his shaft and tying it off before tossing it in your trash bin. “I was thinking we could do it at my place next week. My parents are out of town on vacation.” he pulls his boxers around his waist and then grabs his shirt that was thrown off in a corner, slipping it over his head. “That way, we can go for as long as we want and be as loud as we want to.” he turns to you and gives you a flirty wink, to which you only respond with an airy laugh and a forced half smile. “So, what do you think? Will you be coming over?” He questions once he’s fully dressed.

“Y-yeah, I will be.” You try your best to sound convincing like the idea of meeting him just for sex the next week was just as exciting as it was four months ago when this whole friends-with-benefits thing started.

“Okay, I’ll see you next week, don’t be late.” he heads to the door to your bedroom, slipping on his shoes.

“I won’t” you smile half heartedly and without so much as a bye he opens the door leaving you to clean up all by yourself.

“I know,” he smirks. “You can’t resist me.”

-

You on your way? It’s fifteen past ten.

You barely even noticed the alert tone go off on your phone if it wasn’t for the music in the club changing tracks you wouldn’t have.

Rolling your eyes at the screen, you dryly reply.

That was tonight? I totally forgot

You send to him.

How could you forget about me? We’ve been doing this for the past four months without fail.

He sits up on his bed, squinting slightly at his phone screen.

Must’ve slipped my mind once I had a few drinks.

It didn’t, but you couldn’t see him, not because of how you were feeling tonight. You needed some drinks to get your mind off of him, and you’re so glad your friend decided to accompany you as well.

Drinks? How many did you have? And where did you get them from?

He chews on his index fingernail softly while waiting for a reply.

I’m too drunk to answer all that, but I’m out with some friends.

You reply and down another shot, not caring about your missed date with heeseung.

I can come pick you up, give you some water, and we can finish where we left off if you want

That’s okay. I got a ride.

Oh

From who?

His name is Jake, but I really have to go now. I’ll talk to you sometime later.

Text me when you get home.

Heeseung sighed putting his phone aside and sighing. “Just great now what am I gonna do?” He looked down at the tent in his lap and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed you couldn’t make it he literally changed his sheets and took a shower and got his room ready for the occasion only for you to cancel on him.

Oh well, his parents would still be on vacation for another six days, and you and him could make up for lost time, but for now, he was gonna go to bed and try to forget about the bulge in his underwear.

-

Next week arrived, and you still hadn’t gotten together with heeseung at his place nor at school. Even though he texted you every day, you still hadn’t found time to fit him into your schedule at school. You’d always be running “late” or “not feeling well,” and you left all his text on seen, leaving him to believe you were avoiding him.

Especially after it had been two weeks since you hadn’t bothered to get in touch with him, could you really be that busy for two whole weeks?

Luckily he was able to flag you down today before you left school. “Y/n wait up!” He calls and you immediately stop in your tracks and turn around to face him for the first time in weeks you couldn’t avoid him forever.

“Hey,” you smile softly at him.

“Hey,” he says, sorta out of breath from running to catch up to you. “Just wanted to catch up. We haven’t seen each other in quite a while.”

“Yeah, about that, sorry.” You lowered your head, unable to make eye contact with him. “I’ve just been busy.”

“I see” he starts to walk beside you. “How about now? Do you got any free time for me?” He turns his head to the side to look at you.

“Sure,” you say, feeling unsure you wanted to be with him. You really did, but you wanted more than just sex, and he couldn’t give that to you. Sadly, he made it obvious, so distancing yourself from him felt like the best decision.

“Good, it’s only been two weeks, but I feel like I’m going crazy without feeling you.” he goes behind your back, hugging you as you both waddle down the street to his home. “Hmm, come to my place,” he whispers in your ear, kissing down your neck as he holds you by your torso. “Please?”

“Okay, hee.” You could feel his lips curling into a smile against your skin.

“Hmm, thank goodness I need to feel you so fucking bad” he nibbles your ear rubbing his cheek against yours as he walks you to his house.

Once you enter his house you trudge upstairs after him the sinking feeling making it’s way to your stomach as much as you wanted him the feeling of knowing you would never be with him fully was making you feel down and you barely even wanted to have this friends with benefits relationship with him anymore.

He kicked off his shoes and tossed his backpack to the side. “Come here baby” he sat down on the bed and patted his lap calling you over to him.

Read full story HERE!

-

[tanadrin]

I am sorry for the anon but I feel too vulnerable to come off due to the nature of my question.

I am slowly losing friends due to my refusal to engage in negative/nihilistic/doomer views of the future. My friends are 1000% convinced Trump and Republicans are going to crash the economy on purpose, leading to a depression, and carry out a Gilead situation. I told one of my friends the other day how, despite everything and the political situation, I am trying to be as positive as possible - or at least neutral. Her response to me was, "Why? I don't understand your optimism. You know they're going to enslave us all like in The Handmaid's Tale, right?" and it has become so dreadful now to interact with them. Anytime I disagree, they try to intellectually dominate me or put me under them in a way where I have no choice but to just leave the conversation.

I know this was a lot. But is there any advice you might have for someone like me? Because I sometimes feel like I am being painted as crazy. I know things will be hard but they genuinely want me to believe I have no future and I can't stand that.

Also, would it be too much to ask if you maybe mind sharing some of the other people/blogs you follow?

I once heard advice on dealing with Qanon family members who had fallen down the rabbit hole and only ever wanted to talk about conspiracy theories or the outrage bait they'd seen on Fox News or OANN or whatever, about not challenging them on their views but basically saying "I don't want to talk about this; let's talk about our plans for the weekend, or what movie we wanna go see later, or what interesting books you've read lately." The idea being, arguing with someone can only further entrench their beliefs, and if you really want to shake someone out of their dismal universe of conspiracism, it helps to remind them of all the things that aren't the fear-and-anger-activating content they're stuffing their brains with for hours every day.

Maybe something like this could help? I have a hard time imagining that someone really believes The Handmaid's Tale really is just around the corner--if you really believed that, surely you would be trying to flee to Canada or doing some political volunteer work or something--and sometimes doomer stuff can be kind of reflexive or phatic, like making a crack about how your retirement plan is to die in the water wars or something. But even if it isn't, I don't think there's any point in trying to argue about this stuff in the moment. Instead try to build on the things you still find fulfilling in that friendship, the conversations and interests and activities with those friends that caused you to become friends in the first place.

If you can't do that--if hanging out with them is always a constant grind of full-throttle doomerism, and they express no interest in actually trying to do something with their feelings of anger and frustration--you are perfectly within your rights to spend less time around them. You could, if you wanted to and you felt that you owed them at least that, give them a heads up as to why. If a close friend of mine or a family member was doing this, I would certainly talk to them about it. But your obligation to subject yourself to someone else's self-destructive idee fixe is not bottomless. Even with a partner you are within your rights to eventually say "I'm not going to talk about this with you anymore."

(And that's not only true of politics or conspiracy theories, by the way! If you have a close friend or family member or partner who--for example--has severe depression but refuses to seek treatment for it, you are not obligated to be the sponge for their misery forever every time they need someone to talk to. If someone in your life is in a relationship or a job that is making them miserable, and won't do anything to leave that relationship or find a new job, and just wants a friend to complain to, you are within your rights to eventually shut that down. Lots of people fall into a holding pattern in their life where they are unhappy but unable to do anything about it, and they will make this their friends' or loved ones' problem. That doesn't make them bad people: lord knows I have found myself doing this before. It's a very human thing to do. But sometimes the Good Friend Thing is to say "I love you, and will support you if you want to actually *do something* about your situation, but otherwise, oh my god shut the fuck up." But, you know, nicely.)

But if your friends want to make themselves miserable because hanging on to an endless stream of toxicity and doomerism from social media (and I will bet this is primarily coming from social media) is more important to them than your friendship, and they can't handle you not agreeing with them, you may lose them as friends. If you do, I'm sorry. That sucks. It's hard to lose friends, and it's even harder later in life when making new friends is more difficult, and I don't want to pretend like that's not a big deal.