#then came the heart issues like I swear I genuinely in all ways you look at it I COULDNT speak at all

[kavehater]

THIS IS SO HUMBLING FR CAUSE the only ppl who did reach out were Hal dahlia and meto (out of the billions of ppl ik)

[kitkatscabinet]

All I want for Christmas

For my lovely wife @juvenillia as a part of the secret Santa exchange. I'm sorry it took so long love

Simon Riley x f! reader

Summary: Your holiday plans are thwarted when the task force is abruptly called away for a mission.

Word count: 3.2k

A/N: reader celebrates Christmas.

You’d always been ambivalent towards the holidays, especially the christmas season. The wonder that had illuminated your childhood at the lights, the decorated trees and the general spirit people exuded had long since faded. While you didn’t hate the holiday season, it was hard to muster up the same level of excitement and magic that children seemed to naturally conjure. 

When it came down to it, you supposed the issue in truth was your family, or rather the lack thereof, most of the remaining members of your jagged family being low, to no contact completely. Atleast, that was the case until your old lieutenant, John Price, had dragged you into his new off the books task force. Sergeants Kyle Garrick and John Mactavish were hard people to hate, not that you’d tried, and both had very quickly wormed their way into your heart through the high stress situations you’d endured together over the years. 

Though given the way Soap had seemingly latched on with both hands and refused to let you go, dragging you to his concernigly empty home in Scotland to spend the holidays together a few years back let you know that he was likely just as lonely. Kyle had hosted the next, Captain Price had been bullied into opening his apartment for the third, and then when it became apparent this would be a 141 tradition, surprisingly Laswell and her wife had welcomed you all with open arms into their home. 

It was through your team, your family, that you started to once again regain that childlike wonder for the holidays. Even Simon, grinch that he seemed to be was always present, glass of Eggnog in his hand as he watched his teammates engage in childlike behaviour from the corner. Soap had tried to pester the large man into wearing the matching pajamas that you, Kyle and him all now proudly wore but that was apparently a step too far. 

You weren’t fooled by his nonchalant persona though, not when you could still so clearly picture the shock and vulnerability that had settled over his pretty unmasked face the first time you’d handed him a full stocking decorated painstakingly with his name in silver thread. The stockings you’d made for your team were incredibly shoddy, a labour of love not skill. Yet even two years later, frayed and chunky, they were still in use. Johnny had been genuinely aghast when you’d tried to take them back, to buy them new, better quality ones. 

With the way your eyes seemed to naturally gravitate towards Simon it would have been impossible not to notice the way he had flinched slightly at your suggestion, hands protectively clutching his stocking. Nor could it escape your notice that every year as the stocking frayed more and more, Simon’s still seemed to be in immaculate shape. Somedays you could swear it seemed to be better off than when you’d first gifted it, though that was probably wishful thinking.  

Your fifth Christmas with the team was rapidly approaching, a fact Johnny wouldnt let you forget, practically vibrating out of his skin at the exciting prospect of celebrating Christmas at your place. As you and Simon were the only remaining members who hadn’t hosted the onus had fallen on you even if you hadn’t volunteered. It seemed the entire squad had silently assumed it would be you, not the paranoidly private Simon, yourself included. 

The apartment you lived in was small but comfortable, and with two weeks until Christmas it was already decked out with lights, tinsel and a small tree covered in garish ornaments. You’d received some odd looks from people in the shopping centre but you were too excited to care. Presents had been bought, multiple for each of your teammates in fact when you kept finding better gifts. Or rather, you’d gathered an assortment of gifts for everyone but Simon. Nothing seemed to quite fit. Sure, there had been a few bits and bobs that you could have settled for, but in your mind nothing had been good enough for him, his gift needed to be perfect. An announcement that the centre was closing ringing through the stores PA system had you dejectedly walking back to your car, the determined promise of tomorrow for sure ringing through your mind. 

Tomorrow is thwarted when the phone you keep in the bedside drawer rings urgently at 3am, rousing you from the light slumber that was characteristic of all your nights sleep. It only takes a few minutes for the gorgginess to exit your system as Price’s grim voice filters through the speaker as you roll out of bed with a less than professional whine. Couldn’t the terrorists or whoever have waited until after the holiday season? Until March even?

Johnny’s just as pouty as you and though the two of you form a coalition to turn your best puppy dog eyes on Price to try and convince him to pawn whatever bullshit mission you’ve been called on to another squad, the captain apparently doesn’t find the act cute enough. Simon jokes that Soap’s ugly mug probably hindered more than anything and thus you were stuck between the two as a sacrificial lamb before things escalated. 

Between the early wake up call and the prospect of being called out so close to Christmas tensions were running a little high. The lack of decent intel further fraying the nerves of everyone bar the ever unflappable Ghost who sat rigid and alert as ever even when you slumped down in the seat next to him on the helo. You’d barely been given a few hours to prep before you were already getting shipped off to Chechnya where the team was then tasked with entering the country very illegally and covertly. In otherwords the whole thing was a shit show and a half and it was felt through the silent tension that thrummed in the air. 

Simon’s large muscled frame pressed lightly against your side, something you were increasingly aware of as the flight droned on. Heat emanating from his body and sinking into your skin. Pressed so closely, you could smell him before he was marred by sweat, dirt and blood, a rarity. He didn’t wear a nice cologne, smelling like simple soap and washing detergent, but it was nice nonetheless. It was nice because it was just so Simon. 

Exhausted already both physically and mentally, you quickly fall asleep to the lull of the whirring blades and warm pillow of muscle sitting to your left, head lolling to slump against his arm. Lost in your slumber as you are, you completely miss the way he tenses minutely at the sensation before quickly relaxing, shuffling just a little to ensure your maximum comfort. He spends far too long staring at your sleeping face, warm eyes committing every little detail to memory. It’s not until he reluctantly tears his gaze away from your peaceful visage that he sees Captain Price’s amused look, brow raised pointedly as he stares at his two subordinates. Not for the first time in his life Simon is thankful for the mask, leaving none of the pink blush marring his skin visible. 

The mission goes totally fubar almost immediately, because of course it does, the whole thing was fucked from the start. Somewhere in the back of the alarms whirring in your mind as you ran through the dense woodlands you recognise that maybe Kyle’s theory of foul play wasn’t so farfetched. 

Price is barking something over the gunfire that you don’t hear over the chaos and deafening ringing  in your ears, Johnny’s swearing over the comms as he switches between sniping and hightailing it down from overwatch to the exfil location. You’re half dragging, half carrying Kyle along as he mumbles deliriously, head slumped into the crook of your neck and left leg hanging nearly limply as you both blindly stumble. 

You’re fucked. You and Kyle are so unbelievably fucked it’s a little funny, and if it weren’t for the fact your lungs were burning and working overtime to expand and provide you with desperately needed oxygen you’d probably be laughing. 

You’re fucked. You’re probably going to die. You and Kyle, who’s useless without you, who’s relying on you to get him to safety. That’s the part that stings the most, that causes your lower lip to wobble traitorously and tears of panic to build in your lashline. Not the fact that you’ll die, forgotten and buried in a cover up orchestrated by your government, but the fact that you’ll take Kyle with you. Sweet, loyal, driven Kyle who wormed his way into your life and into your damn heart. Your confidante. The only person who knew how you really felt about… Simon. 

Simon Riley. The goddamned smug, cocky, bastard that had taken it a step further than the rest of your teammates when he smashed his way into your life. The man you eventually came to realise was nothing like the fear tinged rumours. Sure, the Ghost was scary and more than a little rough around the edges but Simon was kind, generous, gentle, funny, and looking back on it you suppose you’d been doomed from the start. 

You were going to die and he was all you could think about. Where was he? Was he hurt? Was he safe? What if he didn’t make it out? Would he die alone, bleeding out in the snow, not knowing that you loved him?

Moving on a cocktail of adrenaline, muscle memory and desperation you finally burst out of the treeline and towards the road where the exfil vehicles were already roaring to life. A quick head count has you sagging in relief despite the situation. Johnny. Price. Simon. They’re all waiting for you and Kyle, and though it’s impossible to gauge any injuries just yet, it seems that you and Kyle are the worst off by far. 

The relief abruptly leaves your body with a yelp as you take one step down the small hill towards the road only to immediately trip, legs giving way as you and subsequently Kyle fall forwards and tumble down through the slush. Between one blink and the next the shouting starts up again and you’re ceremoniously pulled up from the ground and tugged into a vehicle in a mess of confusion and limbs. 

When your vision finally focuses it’s to the sight of brown eyes crinkled with more concern than you’d ever seen surrounded by a signature skull mask. Trying to sit up, the world tilts precariously once more as a large hand pushes your sternum back down against the seats and a gravelly accent barks something at you. Any other time you’d be elated at the touch but right now you couldn’t even begin to think to appreciate it.

Simon’s yelling something that sounds vaguely like your name, as if trying to get your attention between whatever he’s screaming at who’s driving. Your head lolls to the side in an attempt to better gauge your surroundings but the movement does nothing but send your vision spinning, a sudden sharp burning pain radiating from near your collarbone. Clumsily one of your hands attempts to clutch the aching site, attempting to locate the problem. You end up missing in spectacular fashion, blinking in confusion at your sudden lack of motor skills until there’s a hand on your chin, tilting your face back up to look into uncharacteristically alarmed eyes. 

Simon’s other hand pushes down on your shoulder harshly and pain anew lights your nerves on fire as you scream, tears streaming down your cheeks as you thrash. All you achieve is further agitating your injuries and expending the very little adrenaline fuelled energy you still had. 

“-me. Look at me!” Your hearing suddenly kicks back just in time to hear the tinge of desperation in the Lieutenant’s voice, the black spots in your vision clearing just a little to allow you one last look into Simon’s eyes. Even when they’re wide with terror you can’t help but think how pretty his eyes are, the sentiment might even slip past your tingling lips though you can’t be sure as you abruptly lose the battle and your body shuts down into unconsciousness.  

It’s a steady, consistent beeping that your mind registers first, before your eyelids that feel like they’re weighed down with glue even open. Your lack of vision quickly becomes second on the list of priorities when you try to breathe, only to find yourself gagging and choking on an obtrusion in your throat. You struggle blindly for what feels like an eternity, panic mounting as you fight for oxygen and to get your leaden, useless limbs to cooperate. 

Suddenly hands are grabbing at you, firm voice speaking over the now rapid beeping of what’s probably the heart monitor. Your eyes burst open at the same instant the trachael tube is pulled out, leaving you to gasp and cough for air as a warm hand cups your cheek tenderly whilst helping you sit up. It takes a few more seconds for the blur in your vision to completely clear but when it does it’s to the visage of Simon’s soft brown eyes once again. 

He’s not wearing his mask, giving you the perfect view of his deep purple eye bags and greasy, dishevelled hair. “You look like shit,” your voice is a croaky rasp, throat like sandpaper and Simon’s handing you a styrofoam cup of water before you can even ask. You take small sips of the cool liquid, savouring the soothing nature. 

“Pot meet kettle” he grunted, slumping down into the far too small chair that had been pulled to your bedside. You watch in appreciate silence as he brings one arm up to rub the back of his neck, the muscles in his biceps flexing beneath the sleeve of his shirt. Though after a few more seconds of observation the corners of your lips dip into a frown, he seemed far too used to the room, almost as if he was used to it. Had he been watching over you? Waiting for you to wake up?

You don’t comment on it though, a sudden panic smacking you square in the chest as you sit up instinctively once more, ignoring the pain that shoots up the left side of your body once more as you suddenly remember, “Oh god Kyle-” 

“Garrick’s fine, already discharged. We’ve just been waiting for you to get your lazy ass up sleeping beauty.” You hate the way your traitorous heart skips a beat at his words, the monitor betraying your emotions and given the way Simon smirks at you it’s clear he noticed. 

Though the embarrassment is quickly flushed away by a second round of panic, “wait, what’s the date today? What happened? How long have I been out?” the questions fly out rapid fire. He answers all your questions calmly and with patience, not at all angry. You’d been shot, which certainly explained the fierce ache in your chest and arm even through whatever drugs they’d doped you up on. That made sense you supposed, but it was hardly as alarming as when the date registered in your mind. 

“Wait it’s the 26th?” devastation coloured your tone, “I missed Christmas?” It was such a silly, trivial thing to get upset over. You’d almost died, but that was nothing in the face of missing getting to celebrate with your team. Your lower lip starts to wobble dangerously before you can stop it as Simon’s eyes widen in alarm, standing so quickly the chair falls over with a clang that gets ignored as he hovers anxiously, taking your clenched hands in his own and rubbing calming circles over your pulse point in your wrist. 

“It’s ok lass, nobody’s upest with you. We’ll celebrate when you get discharged yeah?” Looking back on the memory you’ll laugh, but right now you’re too emotional to react logically. 

“S’not just that, I didn’t have time to get you a present! Everything was s’posed to be perfect and now it’s all ruined” you exclaim. The two of you must make quite the sight from an outsiders perspective, a near hysterical woman more upset over the prospect of missing Christmas than the fact she’d been shot and a hulking man in black hovering somehwat frantically in an attempt to soothe. 

“You waking up is the best present I could’ve asked for darlin’” he finally murmurs, so quietly that you almost don’t hear. His long, calloused fingers entwined with yours as he sat on the edge of the mattress, having finally disengaged the finnicky railing. 

“That doesn’t count” you weakly protest, once again cursing the heart monitor for giving away your internal struggle, “‘sides, Johnny and Kyle got three things.” Some of the humour has returned to the situation for Simon, and your pout only deepens when he smirks at you. 

“Did they now? You playing favourites?” You know he’s teasing but you still can’t help but squawk of indignation. “You’ll have to make it up to me,” he continues on, completely unphased even as you smack him on the arm like a child throwing a temper tantrum, “How bout a kiss? That should be enough yeah?” The heart monitor blares like thunder in the background in a way you’ll know will probably alarm the nurses but you can’t think about that. Can’t think about anything other than Simon. The baritone lilt of his voice that had trailed off as he dipped his head towards you, leaving enough of a gap for you to pull away if you wanted though the warmth of his breath still fans across your face. 

His lips are rough, chapped and the scruff of his unshaven face is uncomfortable against your skin but the kiss is perfect nonetheless. Even with the blaring monitor and the burning fire that consumes the left side of your body in agitation from your sudden movement you don’t pull back just yet. Both hands cupping his cheeks reverently as you all but threw yourself at him. Despite the pain and slight embarrassment, it’s perfect. 

When your lips part neither of you pull away, and Simon rests his forehead against your own as you hum contentedly, the both of you leaning desperately into each other’s touch. It’s not until you hear a whooping holler and a series of whistles that you both startle and jerk away from each other in alarm. Kyle’s clapping and jeering alongside Soap whilst your captain simply sighs in exasperation at the scene, though there’s amusement detectable in his smile. 

“And here I was thinking ye’d need this” Johnny grinned mischievoulsy, waving around what you quickly realise is a bushel of mistletoe, causing you to roll your eyes at his theatrics as Simon huffed. 

“Just cause you need an excuse to get kisses doen’t mean I do Johnny” Simon quips and it’s your turn to laugh at the blatant offense that covers the Scotsmans face. The four of you are then promptly made subject to unintelligible Scottish blathering as Simon presumably gets cussed out. Your laughter is briefly interrupted when you feel fingers entwine with yours and you briefly shoot Simon a look from the corner of your eye before you squeeze his hand, face beaming as you turn back to look at Soap. 

It may have been a day late, but as you sat surrounded by your team, with Simon by your side, thumb stroking circles over your wrist you had to admit that it was the best Christmas to date. 

Taglist: @ghostslillady @bunnyreaper @tokusho@ohworm-writes @kmi-02 @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jumpofmyclif @tiredmetalenthusiast @Chibijustuff @cooliofango @101crows

[cacti-are-like-flamingos]

Living Waters...

Gojo Satoru x Reader x Geto Suguru

The Cursed Trio | Desert Oasis

...

Before setting off for the day, you made sure to grab an extra hairband, anticipating that Geto might need one if his broke. As it turned out, he had the same foresight, which wasn't all that surprising considering the amount of times you'd lose them.

Another curious fact, for some reason, everyone came to you whenever their uniforms got a tear or two simply because you had once mentioned liking to sow things back together

You swear Gojo would do it on purpose considering he always had his stupid fucking infinity on. Geto, on the other hand, likely made sure to be just a tad bit more reckless with his uniform before turning it into you.

He actually liked to watch you work, eyes entranced by the way your hands move and manipulated the fabric --- all while you hummed some tuneless melody under your breath

Moving on

Did you know that Gojo accidentally revealed to Yaga that you had a fondness for unique plushies? Since that day, Yaga began surprising you with a new plushie every day. Sometimes he'd toss them straight at your face, while other times, he'd leave them outside your door.

As the days passed, your room became a plushie wonderland, and you realized you needed to have a serious conversation with Yaga about this overflowing collection.

Despite your talk, the "plushie issue" remained unresolved. However, every Friday after class, Yaga started setting up the classroom to teach you how to knit as a way to compromise.

With this newfound skill, you took matters into your own hands and began creating mini-plushies of everyone around you.

For Kento, you designed a stylish cream business suit that perfectly complemented his rather bland calm personality. You also created a matching outfit for his best mate, Habaira, but in a sleek black color. Habaira was overjoyed with the gesture, though he playfully joked that he looked like his mini-plushie was ready to attend a funeral. Kento couldn't help but chuckle at the comment, a rare small smile gracing his lips as he softly muttered a heartfelt 'Thank you.'

For Ieiri, you crafted a unique plushie, dressing her in a doctor's coat and adding her trademark little cigarette, capturing her essence beautifully. She was absolutely thrilled when she saw it, expressing her excitement with a lazy smile as she kissed you on the cheek.

Yaga received a miniature replica of his current look, which he proudly displayed by placing it next to his computer monitor in his office. Sometimes, you'd catch him smiling at it.

Gojo's plushie was a fun challenge, with a spiky-haired version of him sporting a blindfold instead of sunglasses. Gojo playfully teased you about making a second version because you just couldn't get enough of him. You threatened to take it away, and he protested, holding the plushie just out of your reach. Lanky bastard.

(You never did see that plushie ever again tho, wonder what happened to it)

As for Geto, you searched the internet for some fashionable outfit inspiration and dressed up his plushie accordingly. He later humorously referred to it as his mini shaman (the fashionable outfit was a shaman's attire. Sorry not sorry) , but he assured you that he genuinely loved it. In fact, he liked it so much that he transformed it into a keychain for his bag, carrying it with him wherever he went.

I should mention that by now, your fluency in Japanese had improved dramatically. However, out of a sheer habit, both boys had the tendency to order for you. Then again, they also ordered for one another. Everyone in this fucking three-way has memorized each other's orders like the back of their hand.

You know their coffee orders by heart; Geto knows both of your favorite meals by heart, and Gojo knows both your and Suguru's favorite sweets by soul. (Sorry not sorry)

You all take turns treating one another, but often it's Gojo who insists on paying for you and Geto, given his big-boy bank account. (You will never reveal to them how somehow Mei Mei has become your sugar mama and pays you for simply existing, on the daily)

Geto can't ever drink your or Gojo's coffees because they're just too sweet. It's so sweet it could put a diabetic into a coma. So the two of you happily share taste-sips with each other.

On the other hand, Gojo couldn't handle the intensity of your and Geto's meals due to their overwhelming spiciness. Just the aroma wafting around would bring tears to his clear sky-blue eyes. As for you, vegetables weren't your preference, so Geto would kindly slide his plate close to yours, allowing you to discreetly transfer the unwanted veggies onto his plate without creating a mess on the table.

Gojo would then tease you for your preference, mocking you as he likened you to a small child. So properly, the only adult response was to engage in a game of footsies with him under the table until, accidentally, Gojo hit you a bit too hard, causing you to flinch and squeak. Geto noticed your reaction instantly, and he gave Gojo a piercing glare, silently warning him to be more careful. Gojo, feeling a bit awkward, focused on stuffing his face to avoid eye contact with Geto.

Ah, nothing like a protective mama Geto

Whenever you're trying to avoid Gojo and his endless taunts, you have a clever strategy: hiding in his dorm room, a place he never imagines you'd willingly go. As he spends the entire day searching the school high and low for you, you're actually inside his room, peacefully resting or just relaxing. Oftentimes, you snoop. Hehe

You possess like some Gojo-detector, giving you the ability to sense when Gojo is about to return to his dorm room. The moment you feel he is messing you, you swiftly sneak out unnoticed. He never manages to catch you, and the mystery of why his bed sometimes smells like you remains unsolved for him. That is until one night, he stumbles upon your favorite bracelet tucked under his pillow, the clasp broken.

You can't escape him anymore

Geto finds solace in your room, partly captivated by its enchanting fragrance. The persistent presence of an oil diffuser emanates an aroma that seems to be woven from the fabric of dreams. Its sweet and gentle, a lingering scent that holds a subtle allure, almost addictive in its embrace.

Lost in the allure of the ambiance (doesn't help that you like to keep your room dark and cold with blue lighting) Geto spends literal hours nestled amongst the plushies, lulled to sleep by the whole scenario. Whenever he departs from your room, the decent clings into his clothing. Leaving a trail of flowers behind that informing others of his presence in your room.

Speaking of him

Sometimes, you wake up in the dead of night, feeling something off. It's as if you possess a strange, innate ability to sense when someone is going through a rough time. Perhaps it's connected to your Cursed technique, or maybe your soul simply has a way of recognizing their distress. Regardless of the reason, you find yourself instinctively reaching for one of your pillows and following the invisible trail of energy.

Tonight, your focus settled on Geto's room. He had entrusted you with a key long ago, allowing you to enter his private space when desired.

You approached the door with a gentle, single knock (you have this specific way of locking that involves lightly tapping on the door with your nails. Much like a cat would) before letting yourself in. And there he was, sat up on his bed, his blankets tangled around his lap as beads of sweat trickled down his face. A haunted look in his eyes.

Geto prided himself on being able to maintain a stoic poker face, but even he had to admit. Out of your little trio, you were the one most attuned to their emotions. You could read the warning signs long before they fully manifested.

You slipped into his bed, performing your nightly ritual of unraveling his locks from the right bun he wore to sleep. Quietly, you would always mention how it wouldn't do any good for his hair and how it might give him more morning tangles (knowing well that you yourself slept with your hair loosely tied). Yet, with tender care, you gently massaged the palms of his hands, hoping to bring him back to the present, back to you.

And he came back to you, blinking his lovely onyx eyes as they lightly widened at the sight of you in your nightgown, sitting right next to him, his hand in your grasp as you cooed him back to safety.

No words were truly exchanged; that was for the morning routine. So, for then, the two of you simply settled back into his bed. His hand never left your own as you slowly placed it onto your chest, just where your heart would be.

Your heart beat, calm and strong, lulled him into a dreamless sleep.

...

(A/N): As I was writing this, you fuckers kept blowing up my phone with the amount of likes you were giving my shit. Like damn, I see now we have some early risers here. Goddamn.

I have such a headache rn it's not even funny.

The idea of being a Gojo-detector is rather humorous, isn't it?

Wonder what Geto dreamt about that had him so distressed. Is it the start of something or just your everyday PTSD?

Drop a comment

Feel free to buy me a 🦩

Hope you enjoyed!

Edited: 7/24/2023

[instant-delusions]

OH MY GOSH are you a rafayel lover too 😭 i swear, i love him so much! and im happy that l&ds comnunity is growing here that a new ff of raffy is posted everyday when i refresh the tags! im glad u seem enthusiastic to accept requests 😔 my raffy brainrot is so bad i need my fix!

can i request? we know rafayel has some sort of "abandonment issues" and we know where it stems from and how it manifests (where he says mc can do what they want as long as they come back to him or let him know what they're doing 😭) and imagine that mc GENUINELY forgets bc she's tired from all the work as a hunter, and when she meets raffy again, he's quiet and she's trying to prod a word out of him but he won't budge cuz he's hurt 😭 and u can go on from there! aargh i love hurt/comfort so much.

happy valentines!! (in advance) 😔🎊🎂

YES rafa is my babygirl. my muse. my glubglubglub. my everything. HE'S SUPER RELATABLE TOO ??? HELP my abandonment issues are literally the same, I'm almost offended 😭😭💔 tysm for the request & happy early valentinesss 💓💓💓

ʟᴏ$ᴇʀ=ʟ♡ᴠᴇʀ !

rafayel x reader

cw: burn-out like symptoms, wounds/blood, arguing, cursing, hurt & comfort

𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧𓇼

6:00 a.m., you skimmed over rafayel's last message and told yourself to reply later - of course, as fate does, a super strong wanderer appeared which occupied you for an excruciating, multiple hour long fight. it was night when you returned home, stripping off your uniform and throwing your gun on the kitchen counter. You barely made it to bed, soaking your sheets in a bit of blood before completely passing out.

it was noon when you woke up again and evening when you were done with your report and bandaging your wound. finally, you were able to check your phone, and it doomed on you. rafayel's message stayed unreplied. you scrolled down his other three texts.

𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼

11am rafa: are u ok?

12am rafa: (y/n), can I come over?

1pm: are u serious? not this again.

𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼

you furrowed your eyebrows in regret, but exhaled painfully right after. your wound opened again.

you were forced on another, quicker mission that night, but it still left you exhausted, your former wound nagging at you still. once again you came home late, passed out, and woke up around noon. opening your phone, there were no new messages.

quickly, you pressed the call button and were shocked to find the artist wasn't picking up.

𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧𓇼

5:00 pm y/n: hey, sry rafayel. work has been a lot lately.

5:01 pm y/n: I'm rlly sorry

𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧𓇼

wincing, you sat down, your heart beating anxiously for some reason. 'what if this is it? I broke his promise. there's no reason for him to stay. it's fair, but I need him around. because...'

because you like him. it's selfish, you want him around although you barely fill his needs. suddenly, a very familiar dark cloud forms in your stomach and you feel depressed. deeming another relationship ruined by your work, you open social media to drown out the silence.

several hours passed until a knock at your door ripped you out your daze. quickly, you got up and open it. "rafayel." you say, his name coming out almost like a sigh of relief before you could register it. he was dressed in his white shirt, and white pants adorned with an intricate silver belt - he looked put together as always. you, on the other hand, were in an oversized tee, messy hair and deep eyebags with chapped lips. "hi." he simply greeted, making his way into your apartment.

you followed him, breathing anxiously at his unreadable aura. "listen, rafayel - I'm sorry, I wanted to reply and text you but.."

"you forgot." he replied, crossing his arms. there was a look of hurt and disappointment in his face. "it's not that simple." you argued, breathing in to continue, but he emotionally cut you off. "it is, though. (y/n), if you'd like me enough, a simple task like keeping me updated would be easy."

"rafayel. I like you, I like you a lot but..." you breathed in deeply, the harshness of his words getting to you enough to make your eyes teary. defeated, you sat down on your couch, burying your face in your hands. "these past days have been a lot, I could barely take care of myself and most of the time I was either fighting, passed out or tending to my wounds..." you trailed off weakly - due to your eyes being covered, you couldn't see rafayel's eyebrows raising in shock at your reaction, his arms slowly sinking.

"I swear if I'd have a normal life, I'd text you regularly, but it's not." slowly, you raise your head to meet his eyes - yours were puffy and red, tears streamed down your face. rafayel stayed silent, waiting for you to continue.

"it'd be selfish of me to wish for you to stick by me while i don't fulfill your needs, i know i'm not a good...friend. I try to do my best, rafa. you mean a lot to me, but i understand if you want to leave. you deserve someone better."

at this point, tears were streaming down your face freely, and soft sobs escaped your throat. rafayel lowered his gaze, afraid he'd sink to his knees and beg for forgiveness instead. after a while, he sat next to you, slowly intertwining his fingers with yours and brushing his thumb across your hand as he watched your body move with your sobs. "(Y/N), there is not a single part of you that is selfish."

gently, he holds your cheek and makes you look at him. his hand remains there as he continues talking.

"rather, it is me who is selfish. i crave your attention and validation, and feel hurt if i don't receive it. i'm sorry for being petty, i should've come over sooner. and..."

rafayel moves his hand to wipe away your tears and softly kisses your forehead, he smiles as he hears you breathe out softly.

"i could never bring it over my heart to part from you."

you gaze into his rich, magenta eyes and feel your heartstrings pull towards him. it's as if there were a bridge between your chests. closing your eyes, you feel your love for him blooming in the valleys of your bloodstream and bubbling out of your skin, and it weirdly feels as old as millenia, as if you'd known this love all your life, and all the lives you lived before.

"i'm glad." you smiled wobbly, "i feel the same." with a sigh, you leaned your head on his shoulder and let your body relax.

"i dunno how to feel about you calling us 'friends', though."

[ieatangstforbreakfast]

“Love you a little too much.”

Pairing ೃ⁀➷ Earth 42! Miles Morales x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ oof this one’s a rollercoaster

Chapter 4: Can’t Pretend

Warning ೃ⁀➷ Profane language, fighting, tiny bit suggestive, plot progression, reader can’t understand her own emotions, reader lore

FIC MASTERLIST

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“… Then, who– who am I to you?”

There it was. The question you feared the most.

You expected it somehow: Miles' confusion. What you didn't expect was for him to bring it up.

You were a mess, no matter how put-together you seemed to mostly everyone. You panicked too much; uptight, as your mother would describe you. A strange fear of being vulnerable. Your father always told Antonne that his vulnerability would emasculate him, and through that, you solidified a belief of being apathetic just to please your old man.

So your emotions and feelings were mostly caged inside you, festering like rotting meat with its stench lingering in your system.

But for Miles, it was nothing like that at all. It was a fragrant feeling, like flowers budding in the darkest corners of your mind. But you couldn’t pinpoint what the feeling was— like, favor, attraction maybe— but love?

“What kind of question even is that?” You try to laugh, swatting his shoulder teasingly. “You’re.. Miles Morales.”

“I’m being serious r’now, ma.” He deadpans, brows furrowed and jaw tense. You skip a breath, feeling your heart racing out your chest. You shake your head, looking away. “I-I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

You could sense it. His disappointment— without even the need to look at him.

You were too familiar with the glare.

It's like the question stripped you bare and dragged you through snow and ice. It was unfamiliar to you, who was always so prepared with a scheme behind your back to shield yourself. That was the real you; capable without the help of others, functional even in the worst moments.

But Miles was different, and that was the worst. You allowed yourself to fall, and it was so unlike you to feel the need to have someone— you were too used to being the one who was needed, not the one who was needy.

He calls out your name, and it echoed like a warning call.

"Please answer me.”

"Miles,"

"I just want the truth." He interjects. "I don't want to play these games no more. I'm sick of it. I always feel like I'm deluding myself into thinkin that something's there, that maybe I'm not actually being a dumbass, and that maybe, just maybe,"

He then pauses to look at you.

Don't say it.

"... Maybe—"

"Miles—"

"Maybe you might like me too." He cuts you off. “Because I like you. I really do.”

No, you don’t. Please don’t say that.

A silence. Deafening, striking, and nerve-wrecking. Miles watched you stare into the emptiness, yearning for an answer. He catches a flinch, a twitch of a brow, and a gentle gasp. Your pretty lips part, eyes narrowing as your jaw hung open.

You never cared for love, never once had a heart in need of mending. You believed it was incapable, entirely, for someone to genuinely love you— so before the start could even begin, you could already foresee the end. It always ended the same way: unanswered texts, undisclosed conversations, and blurred out endings you never really bothered to cleanly fix. You thought it would be the same for Miles. Your perfectionist nature never really had to second-guess the outcomes of such situations, yet now you were sitting there, without a plan in mind.

But it’s not like you wanted to fall for him— you just believed he wouldn’t fall for you back.

But why?

You’d always thought it’d be reasonable for you to be unlovable, but for the first time in your life, you questioned your own rationality.

Why do you think like that?

Why do you, the befitting epitome of a people pleaser, think you're unworthy of love?

It was like you were a seven-year-old again, tugging on your father's sleeve to show him a drawing, only for him to glance at it and nod before returning to his work; A twelve-year-old, bursting into tears at the sight of the large C scribbled on your exam— not because anyone was going to hit you, but because you could already envision your mother's unsatisfied glare burning into your skin; a fourteen-year-old, who was never openly praised by your parents once in your life, hearing your father say that he's proud of you for the first time.

Maybe you believed it when they told you that you weren't enough,

Or maybe you were raised to think that you had to work hard in order to be loved— so being loved unconditionally seemed unfair to you.

No. Nothing was yours for free. So this seemed like a trick.

“So?” He plucks you out of your thoughts. “Can you please say something– anything?”

You try to speak, but nothing escapes. Suddenly, all the wit you had was taken from you. Despite the whir of thoughts spiraling in your mind, all you could ever answer was a simple,

“I’m sorry, Miles.”

You hear him sharply inhale. “Why are you apologizing?”

Words are harder to find when even you don’t know what to search for.

“I—I don’t know.” You stammer anxiously. “I-I don’t know what to tell you— I don’t know what to reply. What do you want me to say?” He looked at you, indefinitely frustrated. You couldn’t pinpoint what it was, and it was messing with your mind. Though he stared expectantly, you had nothing on your lips, yet a million words in your mind.

“Aren’t we friends?” You stupendously replied.

“What was that?” Miles snaps. “What the hell are we? Friends?” He repeated in a whisper. “Is that all you think of me?”

Your eyes begin to burn as you looked at him, watching him frown and straighten his lips. You try to scoot closer, but he leans back, avoiding your touch. Though you call out for his name, he simply grimaces— like he was horrified of you.

Like your mother did that night. Wide-eyed, heaving. That night, you’d spent the hours getting an earful from your mother who’d shattered half the things in her room. It was always something about what you said.

There you realized, the coinciding looks of betrayal was the reason why your mother’s face was overlapping with Miles’.

“Well.. Aren’t we?” Friends..?

“Do friends flirt with each other?” Miles snapped. “Do friends sneak out on school days in the middle of the night just to see each other? Do friends dance tango together in sum abandoned subway?— do, do friends do all that shit?”

At the peak of his outburst, Miles wholly softens at the sight of your saddened expression.

Yes. Friends do all that shit, it just so happened that Miles fell for you. Hard.

You watched as he stood up to leave, leaving you bewildered. You couldn’t handle the sight of him leaving like this— it was beyond your sanity. Unconsciously, you reach out for the hem of his sleeve, tugging ever so slightly. Pensively, you managed to finally choke out a reply.

“Hold on.”

His silence plucks your strings. Slowly, you pull your fingers away, instead opting to stand up yourself to face him. Your gazes meet, his head ducked down to meet your height. “Why are you doing this, Miles? You’re being unfair.”

“Me?” He seethed. “I’m the one being unfair?”

“Yes, you’re being unfair.” Your teeth click from your grit. “Just because I can’t give you the answer you want means you can walk out on me like this.”

He scoffs, a smirk drawn on his lips. “Oh, you’re the one lying to yourself, but I’m the one being unfair?” Miles shakes his head in derision. You struggle to contend, faltering from his words. “Lying to myself? I’m not–“

“You’re lying to yourself.” He reiterates with much force. “You’re fuckin’ lying to me and yourself— and I literally just told you not to fuckin’ lie. Talkin shit about us just being friends— sure! Maybe I was just imagining shit, maybe I looked too much into it, and maybe you’re not actually all that into me, but, ma, I know you more than you think.”

The way his voice lowers into a whisper at the final sentence sets something aflame within you. Still, you swallow all what’s stuck in your throat, lilting your head back to heighten your chin.

“You think you know my feelings more than me?”

“You think you know all about your feelings?” He countered. “Friends my ass. You know all bout the kind of shit you pull, ma?” Miles steps forward, eyeing you meanly. “You’ll tell me we’re just friends, but then you’ll flirt and pull me closer like we’re not— and I’ll fall for it over and over again. Then, you’ll spit shit like this, tellin me that we’re only friends n all that, but when I get angry, you’ll tell me I’m being unfair.” With each step he takes, you find yourself further cornered into the wall.

“You think I’m being unfair?” He snickered. “If I’m unfair, you’re a fuckin’ liar, ma.”

Your brow twitches. “Oh yeah? If I’m such a fucking liar, then why the hell are you still here? I’m just gonna fucking lie anyway— why even bother listening to what I’m gonna say?”

His gaze hardens. “You still don’t get it, do you?” He skims over your expression in an attempt to read you.

“Don’t get what?”

Miles stares.

“Just tell me the truth.”

Your gaze narrows as you teemed. “I am telling you the truth.”

“What truth?”

This bastard and his smart mouth.

Miles’ fingers flicker over the tips of your hair, like he was trying to find the outline of your shape in an attempt to fathom if you were real, but it was enough to steal the breath off your lungs.

“Do you really only see me as a friend?”

Rather than a question, it came off like a warning.

“Yes.” You reply, but your head wagged in denial.

“… Tsk. I don’t believe you.”

You feign offense, rolling your eyes. “Then don’t.” You spit, turning to grab your backpack. “If you don’t want to believe me— then I’ll just leave.” And you begin to pack.

“Aight, leave then.” He provokes. You pause just to glare at him, but you start throwing your stuff inside angrily, flinging the strap over your shoulder.

“Keep playin’ these games, ma. Keep lying to yourself.”

You head towards the chain-link fence with a heavy heart.

But his words cling onto you like glue.

Am I lying to myself?

You wouldn’t risk your entire reputation just for one boy alone, nor would you go through great lengths just to see him over and over. From buying a burner phone just so you wouldn’t get tracked, to faking band practice just so you’d get to see him—

No. You wouldn’t do that just for any boy.

Before you could even open the door, your pace comes to an utter halt. With the air thick and cold, the floor beneath you seems to crumble while you take your time to decide. You pivot your heel and head back with a frown etched on your lips. Miles stood there, like he’d been expecting you to come back. It fueled this sort of unimaginable feeling within you— one you could now finally recognize. As you finally closed the inches between the both of you, you look up with dampened eyes.

“What?” He huffed.

“We’re friends.” You flatly state with a cautious finger. “Really, if you’re going to be upset about that, that’s your problem. Not mine.”

Miles wickedly smirks.

“Okay. Say that again.” He inches his head closer to yours as though to mock. “Look into my eyes and say that shit again, mami, say it with your full chest that we’re just friends.”

“We’re—“ You’re caught off-guard with the way he looks into your eyes. “We’re just friends.”

“Can’t fucking hear you.”

“You fucking—“

“Again, ma.”

“Fuck you.”

You latch your hand over his collar just to pull him down to your level, pressing your lips against his in the heat of the moment. It comes off rough, almost vicious, but the taste of his lips hooks you in entirely like an addiction. Miles inevitably melts into the kiss, hands ever-so-cautiously trailing up your waist just to hold you closer.

For a moment you pull away, gasping for air while murmuring something into the wind. With a single hush, Miles cups your cheeks and pulls you in once more, stumbling as you arch your toes, desperately reaching for him. Your lone finger trails down the nape of his neck, causing him to gasp in between the kisses. He leans into your height, bending just to prolong the taste of you.

And when the two of you part, the two of you gasp for air with simultaneous breaths.

An outcome of your irrationality. You’re bound to fucking die at this point.

That’s the thing about love. You can’t pretend.

You swallow, slowly retreating from what you’d done. You looked at him, wide-eyed, the realization hitting you hard like a truck. Though you falter away, Miles held onto your hand tightly. “Oh, fuck nah, you ain’t leavin' without us talking bout this.” Only then, he gently drags you close just to press his forehead against yours. “Please, please, please,” He starts. “Por favor, stop runnin away from me, [Y/n].”

You struggled with a whimper. “Miles, we can’t—“

“Why can’t we?” He whispers. “We ain’t friends no more. This makes us more than that— friends? Yeah, fuck that, and fuck you if you’re going to say that shit after kissing me.”

He’s right. You’re being unfair to him and to yourself.

It doesn’t make sense: your emotions as a whole. Your feelings were fighting against your rationality, your character, but in a sense, it was still too much like you.

In his desperation, he pleads. “No puedes comprender? Which language do I have to speak just to drive it into that damn head of yours? Mujer, moriría por ti. I would die for you.”

I would die for you.

You’d never once had someone willing to waste away their life for you just like that. Everyone’s too busy caring for themselves, and your world revolved around meeting the needs of others rather than your own.

Ah, now you’re a mess again, just like that day you met.

Beneath all that rain, when you first met him— Miles couldn’t see it at that time: the tears running down your cheeks and the smile you were faking. Then, you could hide it seamlessly, but now that mask was cracking like marble from the slam of a hammer.

How could someone be yours for free? Was the world fucking with you?

It was what you’d always wanted— but you couldn’t trust it so easily. You feared that all of what would follow after your happiness would be despair.

“Can’t you at least tell me?” He desperately pleads. “Why? Why? Por favor dime porque.”

“Miles— I,” You struggle to begin. “I-I don’t know how to do this. I’m a mess, and I’m not.. I’m not a good person, not as good as you think I am… I’m not the greatest person out there.”

“Do you have to be the greatest person out there?” He sighed. “The fuck am I going to like about the greatest person out there? I want you, and that makes you perfect enough.”

“But Miles, why?” You squeeze his hand. “Why me?”

“Why you?” He furrowed his brows. “The fuck you mean by ‘why you?’, you being you alone is the reason why I fucking like you.” Miles takes your hand, pressing his lips against the flat of your knuckles. “Who else can it be other than you? Dumbass. Yo soy tuyo, and even if you can’t be mine, I’m yours.”

A confession. His confession— and now you’re a gaping mess trying to process all of his words.

“Just answer me this one time, and on god, I’ll leave it alone.” He vows. Miles then placed his hand beneath your chin, angling you to look up at him.

“Do you like me, ma?”

You nod.

“… I like you.”

[fullsunfilm]

fix | l.dh

haechan x gn!reader

slightly suggestive, angst

found this buried in the drafts, not proofread soooo yeah :)

wc: ~1.2k

---

you wonder if you could have fixed donghyuck. the thought plagues your mind with each waking moment. it knocks at your self-esteem and draws an abundance of salty tears from your pretty eyes he once said he loved oh so much.

all your friends tell you that no, you couldn't have fixed him. you couldn't mend the scars that marred his heart no matter how hard you tried. in spite of the soft touches between silk bedsheets, warm kisses in the morning sunbeams, and the loving exchanges of glances and giggles, you couldn't fix him and his issues.

because lee donghyuck is beyond repair.

that's what you tell yourself when you lock gazes with him from across a busy house party. in an instant, your conversation with jisung and chenle seems to fade into the background as the bass radiating from the speakers is drowned out by the pace of your heart. it's been six months since you last laid eyes on him, but he still has a dizzying effect on you.

the black jean jacket he's wearing makes your brain short-circuit. you recognize it as the one you got him for his birthday last year. the tan peaks of his collarbones look more alluring than ever in his familiar white tank top, the one that you used to tear off him each night. his hair is longer, coming down and creating messy frills at the base of his neck, just the way you liked it. for someone who ghosted you when you needed him most, he seems to keep up well with your preferences.

the world stops for a second when he meets your gaze. even with bumping music and the obnoxious laughter of wasted seniors, you swear you can hear a pin drop. because nothing matters in that moment.

because it's just you and donghyuck. that's how he makes you feel. when you're with him, the worries of the world fry away and become muffled static.

he's always made you feel like this. ever since the day you met him at one of jaehyun's themed christmas parties, you'd been completely enthralled in his carefree nature, honey-dripped voice, and witty tongue. it all came crashing down the moment you brought up your messy relationship status after months of being trapped in friends-with-benefits limbo and found yourself blocked on all social media platforms.

"you okay?"

a soft nudge from jeno brings you back to reality. you force yourself to tear your eyes away from your ex.

"yeah," you hum, opting to focus on the sickening red liquid in your cup. "i'm alright."

you can tell jeno's concerned, but he doesn't pry. instead, he offers you a comforting smile and a pat on the shoulder. "let's find nana, he's probably waiting for us to get back with the drinks."

the two of you collect an array of beer cans, oversized soda bottles, and a few cups of whatever was left in the punch bowl before heading towards a quiet corner of the house. the only noise emanating from jeno's bedroom door is the hushed chatter of the television.

"you're back. i got the tv working." jaemin helps you with the drinks, setting them carefully on the bedside drawer while he sneaks a glance at your troubled expression. "what happened to you? you look like you've seen a ghost."

you can only give him a strained smile. "nothing... i just.. donghyuck's here."

jeno's face contorts for a few uneasy seconds of silence before he speaks.

"i invited him, i'm sorry," he sighs. he looks apologetic as he runs a hand through his messy black hair. "he wouldn't quit bugging me about it, so i just told him he could come.. as long as he stayed away from you and didn't try anything."

jaemin scoffs. "he's donghyuck. of course he's going to try something." he stands to shut the door to jeno's room and plops himself right onto the bed. "but let's forget about it for now, okay? he can't do anything if we're up here watching movies like losers."

that makes you laugh. you nod your head in approval, this time flashing a genuine smile to jaemin and a small nod to jeno, who takes it as a sign of forgiveness and settles in his seat next to you on the scratchy old rug he's had since freshman year.

the hours fly by as the three of you get through movie after movie, making snarky comments and gasping at unexpected twists and turns. by the time the third movie ends, jaemin's snoozing upright on the floor, an empty beer bottle still in his hand. jeno's eyes are wide open and focused on netflix's overwhelming catalog of rom-coms when your bladder decides it's time.

"bathroom break," you say as you stand and dust your sweater off.

"want me to wait?"

"no, i'll be quick." you yawn and slip out of the secluded bedroom.

by this time, the party has died down and the house is quiet save for some soft whispers. you can see the lights on in renjun's room as you pass and hear a few voices discussing inside on your way to the bathroom.

you jump when the door opens. you nearly have a heart attack when you notice who's coming out.

"y/n?"

your blood runs cold. you could recognize his voice anywhere.

you're quick to compose yourself before you turn to greet him, your brain forcibly tugging the corners of your mouth up into a fake smile. "hey, donghyuck. didn't know you'd be here."

his lips twitch a bit in amusement as he examines you. you can feel his sultry eyes wandering along your frame as he takes in the familiar sight of you, one that he vividly remembers waking up to on a regular basis.

"damn, full name? what happened to 'hyuck'?" he banters. his slight smirk widens a bit as he sees through your obvious act. "jeno didn't tell you i was coming?" he seems entertained, a small chuckle leaving his plush lips.

you shake your head and avert your gaze to the floor. you're afraid if you stare at him any longer the last of your emotional resolve will crumble and you'll end up crying. you can already feel your eyes welling up, and if this goes on you know you'll burst into tears.

"n-no, he didn't. but i actually have to go now so i'll just.." you shakily gesture towards the end of the hallway.

donghyuck stops you before you can make your mad dash, closing in on your figure. his footsteps are light against the carpeted floor. he stops just in front of you and reaches a hand up, gently lifting your chin.

"so soon?" he asks. his voice is seductive and feathery.

it's alarming how fast your brain short-circuits when you finally meet his gaze. he's always known how to bother you, annoy you, seduce you. you have the hots for him, and he knows it well. he plays the game of love like he owns it, like he owns you.

in an attempt to escape, you push his hand away and take a step back. "yeah. jaemin and jeno are asleep anyways so i-i was just gonna head out."

he pauses for a bit before responding. his response nearly puts you into cardiac arrest.

"alone? it's two a.m." he hums. "maybe i should drive you home."

"i-i don't think that's necessary, donghyuck. i can walk or call an uber or something. and you've been drinking right? so it's just not a great idea—"

"i haven't been drinking." you feel small under his gaze. "and it's dangerous. just let me take you home."

his tone is more demanding this time, like he knows that's all it takes to get you to give in. he's spot-on.

the car ride to your apartment is quiet, with only the soft chatter from the late-night radio filling the space. you sit stiffly in a seat you once owned as donghyuck's passenger princess, spotting a few remnants of previous affairs in this cupholders and floor mats. bobbie pins, scrunchies, and even a few pieces of jewelry are scattered on the outskirts of his car.

when you finally arrive, you sense him turning towards you. he stops you as you move to unbuckle your seat belt.

"i miss you." he says softly.

it's incredible how he draws tears from you with just three words. the affirmation is all it takes for your walls to crumble completely. it's the last crack that demolishes the dam keeping your watery eyes and emotions in check.

"hyuck.." the first few tears flow down your cheeks. "stop."

"stop what?"

"this. you ghosted me after i told you i loved you. i don't need to be reminded of that."

he sighs, a twinge of annoyance present. "that's in the past. you're still mad about that? it's not even that big of a deal. i mean, come on, you knew we were never that serious, it was less than two years so—"

you cut him off before he can even begin speaking. "hyuck, you really haven't changed at all. you're just like back then. you don't miss me, you miss feeling like you're in control. i'm not there anymore to boost your shitty ego or be your go-to every time you need a quick fuck. i'm not begging you to stay and crying every time i hear you're out with a new girl. i bet you miss making me cry. you're probably really enjoying this now, you fucking monster."

if there's one good thing this interaction is bringing, it's the truth.

there's a sense of catharsis that bellows from your core as you ream him in his own car. for months, you'd been wanting to tell him how much you resented him for leaving you without any answers, but he'd made it clear he had no intention of seeking you out or hearing your inquiries. not until today, at least. even with your answers now, you're not satisfied.

"are you done?" he asks. it feels incredibly condescending, but there's a familiarity to it that makes you whimper internally.

donghyuck always made you feel like it was just you and him. because he made you feel special. because he called you love and swatted off anxious texts regarding your whereabouts from friends and family. because he completely isolated you from the world and made you incredibly reliant on him. he blamed you for anything and everything. that was just who he was. and you learned the hard way that there was no fixing him, no matter how much you thought you could.

regardless, you gave in then.

and you give in again now, pulling him into your apartment he knows like the back of his hand while feverishly pressing your lips against his.

[m00nsbaby]

You think you can write some Steven angst. So basically reader and steven love each other very much and are exclusive. But one day reader sees the body with a women and is so sad. But they try to forgot about it and be happy with him. But their friends send photos of the body with other women( could be Layla or random idk which ever hurts more.) Reader starts to distance themselves. Not cuddle as much, pulling away, saying they busy. But reader comes to the apartment because they live together. And the body is in the bed with a women. And you can write what happens next. Whether steven knows about the other two or has no clue.

hurting steven? that's my cup of tea 😈

Ground control.

Steven Grant x reader.

Tags & warnings. Angst, cheating but not at all. ? Mentions of Marc Spector.

Word count. 2.4k

Summary.

Now I think we've lost it all, There's nothing to explain the distances anymore. All systems are critical, Can't find my way back to you. Feels like there's nowhere to go, I'm just out here waiting for you say; "Don't be afraid, no."

All the signs were there.

Being an avid fan of romantic dramas, you knew by heart the signs of infidelity, but you never counted on Steven Grant breaking every law of logic you had memorized before him and his presence in your life.

Someone who looked at you that way couldn't be lying to you.

"Where were you yesterday?" You extended your arms to him, and he immediately understood the message.

You always worked so well.

Steven hugged you, his entire weight pressing down on you, and you complained only about the pressure, not necessarily because you didn't like it. You laughed.

"I was at the museum, lovey. Why?"

"And after that?"

Still resting on top of you, he propped himself up on one arm so he could face you. He had that confused expression on his face that combined with his usual smile.

He genuinely seemed confused.

"I came home, why?"

You decided to drop the subject there, whether as a silly or rational choice. There was nothing wrong with both of you keeping certain things hidden, right? Maybe the girl he was with the day before was just a friend.

And even though logic told you that Steven Grant didn't have many friends, you pushed those thoughts out of your head when you kissed his lips.

"I love you." Your hands cradled his cheeks, and without him being aware, you analyzed his face, hoping to find some kind of micro-expression that would betray his lies.

His little eyes sparkled, his smile widened until those tiny wrinkles you loved so much formed. You could even swear he blushed at the intimacy of the situation, even after 6 months of living together.

He made you doubt your own judgment because even though your eyes had clearly registered what they had seen, when Steven looked at you like that, you were convinced.

He couldn't be lying.

You quickly forgot the issue, even when you came home early and didn't see him there, or when you felt him leave the bed in the early morning. You knew everyone around you thought you were foolish, but you always preferred to call it rational.

Would you forget the love of your life just because Steven had a female friend? Nah, that option was never on the table.

Unfortunately, your friends didn't forget as quickly as you did.

"Is this the girl from last time?"

Attached to the text message was a photo of Steven with the mysterious girl.

Your stomach churned.

"Are you crazy? Don't photograph my boyfriend like that! It's weird, hahaha."

The forced laughter was a way to cover up how suddenly hurt you felt.

Now, in the solitude of your apartment, you had the opportunity to look at the photo until your eyes hurt. Zooming in on the girl's face, her beautiful curly hair, and her deep brown eyes looking at Steven in a way that seemed disgustingly familiar to you.

Steven, on the other hand, had a barely visible face in the photo, and that was killing you. You would have loved to zoom in on his eyes and finally dispel the doubt about whether that tiny glint of brightness was there.

That would have confirmed or discarded any theories you might have had.

The sound of the door almost gave you a heart attack. You dropped your phone, which bounced on the floor as if you had thrown it on purpose.

"I'm home!" He always did that, and for as long as you could remember, it had brought a smile to your face.

Except now, of course. As if the damage wasn't enough, you stepped on your phone to hide it under your shoe.

"What are you doing here?" He entered, laughing, as carefree as ever.

As Steven as ever.

"I was…" You cleared your throat; suddenly, it felt like you were short of breath, but you smiled. It was foolish of you to assume that Steven hadn't noticed you were acting strangely.

When he approached to kiss you, you turned your face, and his lips landed on your cheek.

There was a citrusy scent on his clothes, completely opposite to your sweet perfumes.

Both of you faltered in your smiles; you couldn't stop thinking about his escapades between work, if he was even still going, and Steven trembled at the mere thought of your rejection.

Maybe you just weren't in the mood.

His theory was confirmed when you turned your back on him in bed.

Steven figured that the honeymoon period was over because he could swear you had been in a bad mood all week.

Not that it bothered him at all. He remembered quite clearly all the times he had promised you that he would never leave, no matter how tough things got, and he also remembered that you had done the same on multiple occasions.

And the truth was, this was nothing to him; something as small as this would never make him consider leaving you. If anything, it was more about the fact that he understood he had to work harder to be okay with you.

You were worth the effort, and besides, he really didn't know what had you acting this way; there could be a million reasons behind it, and probably any of them made sense.

"Look." It was the first thing he said when you entered the apartment.

He was there early, which was a good sign.

"I saw it on my way here." Your eyes focused on the bouquet of roses he held in his right hand and then offered to you along with his best smile.

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, and although you would have loved to hide your smile, it was impossible for you.

"It's beautiful, Steven." It had been a while since you alternated between his nicknames and his name. He had to confess that he didn't like not always being "my love," sometimes he was just "Steven," but he would deal with it.

Your smile was worth it; he saw you genuinely happy for once in what had been quite some time for both of you.

And although the kiss you gave him on the lips was very quick and short, he felt well rewarded for his small gesture.

Over time, the situation became difficult for him to deal with, and not precisely because Steven wasn't a patient man, but because panic could consume him quickly when it came to his self-esteem.

He was never shy about expressing how much he loved you, verbally, through actions, even in writing, so it shouldn't have been a surprise to you that your rejection meant constant blows to his heart.

He felt cold at night when you refused to hug him back or when you pushed him away slowly until he let go, you stopped welcoming him home with a kiss or rather stopped welcoming him at all, there were days when he would find you asleep when he arrived.

Regardless of whether the sun hadn't fully set yet.

You had also stopped responding to his "I love you." If he was lucky, maybe you would murmur a small "me too." Only if he was lucky.

"I finished another book." He tried to get your attention with a sad smile, and you looked at him over your laptop.

Turned out, Steven and you had this habit where your motivation to read was him. He finished books in days and made the silliest and funniest annotations anyone could imagine; you refused to read books involving Egyptian mythology if they hadn't passed through Steven's hands before.

"I don't think I have time these days." Lie. You had more time than you would like. "Maybe you can lend it to someone else."

Your boyfriend had a collection of similar comments that you had made before stored in his memory, and he wondered what he wasn't understanding.

Were you suspecting something about him?

Steven refused to believe it.

Why? Simply because it didn't make sense, not when his life revolved around his job, the apartment he shared with you, and you.

It would be bonkers to simply assume something like that.

"Just tell me what I'm doing wrong." He was almost sobbing as both of you had the argument of your lives.

You couldn't remember ever hearing Steven raise his voice before, and he couldn't recall ever hearing you so upset, specifically with him.

His questions were pushing you to the limit; he had such an incredible way of pretending he had no idea what was going on that you felt like you were about to explode. You didn't have the strength to tell him in your own words what you knew was happening. The least you hoped for was that Steven would be brave enough to tell you he was having an affair.

"It's her, Steven!" You broke down; your hands were rubbing your face desperately.

And he didn't understand, of course he didn't.

His lower lip trembled in a pout.

"Who, love?" His broken voice made you tremble in your place. "What are you talking about? Just tell me, and we'll figure out how to fix it."

And the cycle repeated itself. You didn't have the strength to refute Steven when he seemed so bewildered by your questions.

That night, you slept in his arms for the first time in a long while, and everything felt like trying to connect two puzzle pieces that didn't fit together. Both stressed, in pain, and with tears in your eyes, wondering how to fix this.

How could you deal with the love you had for him while each day he found new ways to break your heart?

Everything exploded on an ordinary Wednesday as you were returning from work.

When you noticed that the apartment door wasn't locked, you swallowed hard, expecting the worst. What if you walked in and all your stuff had disappeared? Neither you nor Steven were in a position to take extra shifts.

You mustered up the courage and took a step inside, better now than never. You chose to be silent, just in case someone was still inside, and you had to make a quick escape.

Of course, within seconds, the sounds coming from your shared bedroom immediately shattered any theories involving burglars or anything similar. However, this situation somehow turned your stomach even more.

Your hand trembled, your whole body trembled.

Before entering the bedroom, you already knew what you would find, and yet you had to verify it with your own eyes because in your mind, you still believed that your Steven would never be capable of doing something like this to you.

But there he was, still wearing the clothes he had left in that morning, on top of the mysterious girl, the one with beautiful curly hair and chocolate eyes that you could even identify as 'precious.'

"Steven!?" You screamed, finally pulling him out.

"Fuck." It was the only thing he could mumble as he got up from bed.

Had it been stupid on Marc's part to do something like this? Definitely, but the thing was, this game of the two lives was beginning to get out of control. There came a point where he couldn't keep lying to Layla about where he was staying.

You should have noticed that your things were hidden when you arrived.

The framed photographs were facing downward.

"You're the… biggest fucking idiot." you muttered as best you could, tears overflowing from your eyes to the point where neither of them was visible to you. Your legs threatened to give way as you turned to leave.

Marc followed you with the intention of giving you an explanation, even with a deeply confused Layla behind him.

What he didn't account for was that the stress of the moment would cause an immediate switch with Steven. He was there as always, protecting him from an emotional blow while he destroyed Steven's life.

He stumbled to his knees, but his hand still clung to your arm, partly for stability and partly to try to keep you from leaving, because when it came to you, his body reacted automatically.

"Let go of me!"

You couldn't see it, but he was constantly blinking, trying to adjust to the room's light. He felt nauseous as his body tried to understand that he wasn't in the museum as he had believed for a while.

"Love?" He stammered, confused, and you pulled your arm away again. "What are you doing?"

It didn't take him long to understand, though. His disheveled clothes, his racing heart, and Layla's confused gaze behind both of you seeming to be on the verge of exploding.

"Marc?" Her voice made him tense even more. Why did it sound so familiar? "Who is she? What's going on?"

You ignored him because at that moment, you managed to break free of his grip. He was basically chasing you, and it was pushing you to your limits.

"I don't want to see you." You mumbled, quickly grabbing your belongings, money, your cell phone, your charger.

Yes, that one was shared with Steven.

"You don't understand, love, I didn't…" He could barely form coherent sentences; he was only sure that he didn't want to let you go.

And yes, even with the scene you were causing, he followed you out of the apartment.

"I don't get it, I don't know what… It's… I don't know what happened." He sounded terrified, and you wondered to what extent he would keep this facade up.

"Please let me go," you said with a trembling voice as your free hand pushed open the building door. "Steven, you're hurting me." You had wanted to say those words for months.

Only then was he able to loosen his grip.

"Don't look for me, please, I beg you, let me be alone." You managed to put together that sentence without looking at him. Maybe you would regret it if you saw that pained expression again.

He let you go with a horrible headache, feeling like he was about to faint. He sat at the foot of the stairs, both hands covering his face, and his tense body suffering uncontrollable spasms from crying."

Steven didn't stop looking for you, even though a physical encounter became impossible when no one told him where you were staying.

You had to change your phone number when your phone wouldn't stop ringing as soon as you turned it on. Millions of calls and millions of text messages.

Of those, only one caught your attention.

"I'm sick, I finally understand."

And underneath, another message.

"Can we talk? I can explain everything, love, please."

You deleted it along with the rest, and after turning off the phone, you placed it face down in the drawer that had become its permanent home.

Mk's tag list :)

@ninebluehearts @icreatedthisat317am @onefinnedwonder-fm @shousha133

[matd0]

life update ig ??:

hi hi hi hi hi hi hi !!!

ok so

1. i mentioned about having medical issues and some people got concerned so i just want to quickly explain the thing yk; in short it turns out having anxiety can cause heart arrhythmia ????? which can be like kinda dangerous;; but like in most cases it's fairly harmless so i should be alright :] !! still have to go check it out at the hospital (which i have been sorta putting off for a while bc yk. anxiety,, lol) but like other than it stressing me out a bit, everything is relatively fine :]

2. school is kicking my ass rn 💀 have a lot of unfinished work and missed a ton of classes bc my mental health kinda sucks,, so yk it's not exactly going great lol. but uhhhhhhhhhh im sure I'll figure it out ? ig ?? ye.

3. got a small art block. well it's more like "i have so much work to do, how dare i draw at a time like this" (and then just go to sleep bc im soo stressed and overwhelmed about everything 💀) but like. I'll probably get over it soon 🤷

idk i also just feel super obligated to always post super high effort paintings if i have many followers yk? like alot of the time i just feel like my drawings aren't good enough and everyone will like despise me for it;; and idk ig i just need constant approval for everything i do for some reason sjdhjshd. ik it's like. a really inaccurate and terrible way to look at it but i just can't rlly help it;;

uhhh all that to say, i hope it's alright if i post more sketches and unfinished drawings ? ;;

4. i would like to formally apologize for barely responding to literally anything. like. im so sorry dudes;;;;;;; unfortunately i have. very intense social anxiety and literally do not respond to anyone ever. (/srs it's like. a genuine issue in my life. whoops) but like i feel super bad about it bc i don't want to seem like i don't care T_T cuz lik e. i literally read every comment, message, tag, etc. and they always make me so so so happy ;;;;; like i routinely show screencaps of random comment to my friends gush about how nice they are 💀 idk point being; im a loser, i love all of you and it blows my mind that anyone cares about my silly drawings for a p much dead fandom lol.

extra: also i uh made a creepypasta oc 🧍‍♂️might post about him maybe idk im scared it'll be cringe sjhsjsgdhgdhd epic

TLDR; pretty stressed, small art block, school suckz, might die but probably not lol.

(sorry this came off super negative and sort of venty 💀 its all good i swear, im just silly)

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

Five years ago, after a near-fatal construction accident, my doctor came to my hospital bed with the results of an ECG the night nurses forced on me because every single time they’d ask me how I’m feeling, I’d say “I’m fine” and then throw a dazed mini-tantrum until they’d all leave me to just- well, I did and didn’t know I was dying. However I was feeling, I wanted to feel it alone. Anyway, my doctor told me that if I did not get a blood transfusion within the next 2 hours, I’d die. He called me reckless for not being honest with the nurses. For the next hour they scoured every local hospital for my type (the rarest) and I was painfully alone in my hospital room. Dying really brought some contradicting feelings. I was ready to die, just kind of accepted it. I was panicked but also very welcoming about the prospect of death. I wanted my partner there so desperately that if my body had any energy I would have cried from how scared and alone I felt. I knew if I called she’d make the trip to the city where I was hospitalised. But I also refused to call her and keep her (honestly and accurately) updated on my wellbeing. I didn’t want her to watch me die (which I was so sure I would do because I was in and out of consciousness for three days, could actually hear my heart failing in my ears, and see the the gradual darkening of the peripherals of my vision). I knew she’d hurt, and I knew she’d beg me to fight, and I literally had neither energy nor desire to fight what I felt was a lost battle. I got my blood transfusion in the end and of course survived. I still waited a full day before I casually Whatsapped (yes, text, not even a call. I swear I’m a good guy) my partner telling her that I narrowly evaded death but she’s got nothing to worry about because I was watching Good Morning Britain while drinking OJ. She made that fucking trip, which I wanted and didn’t want her to make, and she stayed for the next four days until I was discharged.

I’m sharing this because while chapters 3 and 4 of Sea Glass Gardens could not go into much details of what it is like to be dying and know you’re dying in front of a loved one, and the internal conflict of wanting and not wanting to be alone as it happens (because this is all Yuuta’s POV), you did an excellent job of capturing what it would all look and sound like to a third party looking in. Even down to Tsumiki refusing to let go of Megumi’s hand. The nurses hand to change the location of my cannulas to my foot and my scalp because my hands were so bruised from them having been held by my partner for hours. Much like Megumi I also have an issue with emotional expressions and declarations. In chapter 8 when Tsumiki asks him how he is feeling and he redirects to asking her if she got home okay, I was reminded of when I woke up to find my partner, replying to her “How are you feeling” with “Why are you here? Did you request time off school?”.

Idk, I guess this is my longwinded way of saying “excellent execution of capturing what it feels like to be dying in front of a loved one, from all the different perspectives”.

So, this has been buried in my ask box for a while, which is unfortunate, because it's a very meaningful message I'm very grateful to have received. It sounds like you went through a lot with this, and I did want to thank you very genuinely for sharing this. I feel like with art we're just banging pots and pans in the wilderness seeing if we get some kind of faint clanging back sometimes.

It's really hard to share these kinds of vulnerable details like this, and I'm grateful you shared this with me. I wish you the best.

[taylortruther]

‘When she was doing better she resented our concerns about her mental health and the fact that we had been there during a very vulnerable time in her life’ this describes my dynamic with my ex-best friend who I was completely obsessed with so well. we were so close for years and often talked about mental health (tbf we were babies then) until things got really bad during covid. we were there for each other, and we would sometimes share things that most people would be ashamed to even think of. when she got better, she became a lot more cagey about her feelings towards the people we talked about a lot when we were doing really badly (mostly our dads really), and I do think that fed into her decision to slowly distance herself from me. i really do think she didn’t want to be that vulnerable with anyone at all. the thing is, i ended up getting worse after initially getting better. we had been growing apart for a year by that point but kind of promised each other to put more effort in after we went a month without texting that summer. when I came back to school in the fall, i was visibly very sick, and she suddenly hated me? i don’t think it’s just because of the way i looked (there was some jealousy with like, doing well in class or whatever, but that hadn’t been an issue in previous years at all), but I swear it played a part. she suddenly couldn’t stand to spend time with me, seemingly got mad if i made conversation, and would openly laugh and rejoice if i made a mistake in class. it was so confusing and hurtful. her resentment eventually stopped but our relationship never recovered. I wonder if seeing me like that reminded her of her lowest times (since our rough patches coincided, even though our issues were different - hers was depression and anxiety / perhaps some other stuff she never got formally diagnosed with, mine was pretty severe anorexia, which she never asked about after the first summer when it started and went ‘is that STILL a thing???’ when i said I couldn’t have something a few months before i lost a lot of weight again), and that was why she avoided me subconsciously? was she scared i would pull her in? I literally never had that issue with any other friends btw so I’m not like that at all 😭 I grieved it for so long, especially because we never had a blowup fight or anything. resentment just built up until we fizzled out. we went from arguably the closest people in each other’s lives to… acquaintances, basically. ugh it sucks. i wish I could hear her side of things and get closure because I genuinely don’t know what I did wrong (this is a pattern for her, but i digress).

ahhh bestie this hurts my heart for you. i won't act like i know for sure what was going through her mind - sometimes you form really intense bonds with friends that end up blowing up for a host of reasons. maybe she couldn't be communicative and was pissed you couldn't pick up on her impossibly subtle "hints," maybe she was too immature and insecure to admit something to you, maybe she felt threatened that you knew her vulnerabilities and felt she had to push you away and be mean to you to ensure she had power/control over the situation... but i am sorry you went through it and i hope you are doing okay.

[writingforcuteppl]

Enchanted (Stan’s Version)

PAIRING: Stan Marsh x Reader

SUMMARY: Remembering can be bittersweet, and each and one of them have been since you were little. That doesn’t mean all the memories are joyful. But in the end, you were enchanted to meet them.

GENRE: Fluff and angst.

WARNINGS: Self-image issues, hints of depression, swearing.

WORD COUNT: 2k words

PART: 1.1 (series masterlist)

4th Grade

Stan was able to see your change of attitude during the 4th grade. You smiled less. You seemed more distracted. He also noticed how your grades started to get worse and worse. He wanted to ask you what was happening, but something stopped him whenever he tried to talk to you. He didn’t know what or why he couldn’t get closer to you. You were alone most of the time. But he knew you were disconnected from the world. He told himself he didn’t want to bother you. That’s why he didn’t approach you. Can a person actually change that much over a year?

Stan found the opportunity to spend some time with you one day during recess. There was this talent show at the school. Kenny, Kyle, and he decided to play a song, so he spent his recess practicing as much as possible.

He saw you sitting at your usual desk, you were resting your head on the surface, and he could see you had your headphones on. He debated whether he should disturb your peace or let you rest, but his desire to speak to you won over. He grabbed one chair and dragged it next to you. The movement made you raise your head from your desk. You took notice of his guitar case.

“When did you learn to play the guitar?” you asked Stan while he was taking his guitar out of its case.

“I actually started to practice and learn to properly play it during the summer.” you looked at Stan with awe. You always knew Stan’s passion was music, but you never thought he could play an instrument. “I actually taught myself. For a reason, it was pretty easy. By only looking at videos of people playing, I could do it.”

“Cool.”

“Wanna learn?” Stan asked you.

“Mhm, I prefer watching you play. Can you play me a song?” you asked, and he started playing a song you soon recognized as “Something About Us” by Daft Punk.

You could see how Stan skillfully moved his hands on the guitar without any problem. He really practiced all summer if he was able to do it so easily. Stan saw you for a moment. You were paying attention to the way his left hand was moving across the guitar’s neck. You didn’t know why you were so mesmerized by the actions. In the end, you didn’t intend to learn, or anything like that, but something in the way he was playing had you paying more attention to his actions. When he finished, he looked you in the eyes, and he was able to see admiration.

“That was awesome, Stan!” you smiled at him. It was the first time in weeks he saw you genuinely smile. His heart fluttered.

“I’m glad you liked it, Y/n.”

5th Grade

“One day I’m gonna be as pretty as her” You were looking at the page from the magazine you just bought where your favorite singer was displayed.

“Since when you started reading magazines? I thought you hated them” Stan took the magazine from your grasp and looked at the same page you were looking at a few moments ago.

“It’s not that I hated them; I just never really understood what they were for until now….” you said.

“Why, though?”

“What do you mean by “why” Stan?” you looked at him, not really understanding his question. Were you really that ugly that you could never be like her? Stan noticed you were pouting, and he realized he needed to give you more context before he fucked it up.

“What I’m trying to say is that… Well, you are already as pretty as her. Even prettier, if I’m completely honest.” The last part came out of him as a whisper in hopes you didn’t listen to him, but of course, you heard it. You felt your heart wanting to get out of your chest.

“You think so?” you were smiling at him.

“Yeah.”

6th Grade

“What are you thinking about?” Stan sat next to you during recess. You weren’t really thinking about anything specific. You were just watching Kenny and Kyle play soccer.

“Nothing really, I just think they’re really good. Shouldn’t you be there with them?”

“Nah, I’m more of a football type of guy.” Stan took out his iPod and earphones and gave you one earphone so you could listen too.

“What are we listening to today?” you asked Stan while looking at the screen of his device while he was looking for a specific song. Stan always enjoyed these few minutes when Kenny or Kyle were far from you because he got to be alone with you without any of them trying to get your attention. Once a week, the two of you just sit down and listen to new music or songs you found during that week.

“I want to show you one song that I want to dedicate to you” You gave him a questioning look, and he pressed play. Bruno Mars’ “Just The Way You Are” started playing on your earphone. You’ve heard the song quite a few times whenever it played on the radio, but you never really paid attention to the lyrics until today.

You were looking at the floor while trying to understand why he dedicated the song to you. You didn’t move at all. Stan started to panic. Was this way too straightforward?

The song was almost finished, and your thoughts were all over the place. Did he feel this way? Was he aware that you liked another boy instead of him? Did Kenny know since he was his best friend? Were you actually worthy of these feelings he had for you? Maybe you were just overthinking everything, and he was just trying to help you boost your confidence. Yes, that must be it. It has to be. The song came to an end, and you stayed in silence.

“So? What do you think?”

“I-” Before you could answer him, Kenny and Kyle came running to where the two of you were sitting.

“Water, I need water” You gave Kenny your bottle of water, but you never stopped looking at Stan. You didn’t want to tell him you only saw him as a friend, so you were really glad Kenny and Kyle interrupted before you could say anything else.

“Let’s go. Recess almost finishing,” Kyle gave you his hand and helped you stand up.

7th grade

“Why the change of hairstyle?” Stan asked as he was sitting down at the table Kenny, Bebe, Red, and you were sitting during recess. “It’s been years since I saw you with your hair up.”

“Does it look bad?” you were ready to let your hair down when Kenny grabbed your wrist before you could do it.

“NO! No, I’m pretty sure Stan didn’t mean it that way, princess.”

“Yeah! No, like, I believe you look beautiful. I can actually see your face. And it just gives you this sweet aura.” You looked at Stan and smiled at him. It’s the first compliment in months that someone who wasn’t Kenny or your parents (well, more like only Kenny) has given you.

“Yeah. Stan’s right, girl. You came today and looked prettier than normal,” Bebe said, confirming what Stan had just said. “Am I right, Red?” Bebe asked her, and she only nodded and continued typing on her phone.

“Stan’s right. You always look pretty, but today ufff, you astonished everyone.” Kenny, who was sitting next to you, kissed you on the forehead, and you rested your head on his shoulder. You looked at Stan and muttered a “Thank you” for only him to see. Stan made your whole week.

8th Grade

“Heard you and Kenny got into a fight” Stan sat beside you. You were supposed to be working on your project with Kenny, but since your fight a week ago, you’ve been doing all the work by yourself. You scoffed at his comment.

“Yeah, he’s just so… ugh” Stan laughed at your answer.

“Well, Kenny can be most of the time, “Ugh.” But on a serious note, you should speak to him. I know this fight is affecting him more than he would like to admit.” you sighed. The fight was also affecting you. You could barely sleep, always expecting him to send you a message, to call you, or to have an excuse to speak to him. But you wouldn’t be the one who talked first. You had pride that was preventing you from doing something. “And by the looks of it, I can see it’s also affecting you. When was the last time you slept properly, darling?” Stan grabbed you by the cheeks so he could take a better look at your tired face.

“I dunno, maybe four, five days ago…” Stan let go of you, and you rested your head on his shoulder. He was right. You needed to mend this situation as soon as possible.

“I will talk to him, but for now, can we just forget about him and talk about something else, please?” Stan leaned in and placed his head over yours. Stan always appreciated these little moments with you. They were rare. Most of the time, you had Kenny next to you. So this was like a treasure to him.

“Do you want my help?” Stan grabbed the book you were reading, getting the information you needed.

“Well, basically, I’ve finished reading and summarizing everything. I guess now I need to make the presentation.”

“How about I help you with that today?”

“Don’t you have to do your project too?” you asked Stan.

“Bebe and I have actually finished ours, and right now, Bebe’s trying to get Kenny into his senses so he can stop being a proud little shit” You laughed at his comment.

“Fine, today, at recess?”

“Perfect, I’ll wait for you so we can finish this project together.”

“Yeah, I would like that.”

Stan couldn’t understand everything that was happening. Didn’t Kenny tell him you and he made up a few weeks ago? He did realize you and Kenny were not speaking. Hell, you weren’t even acknowledging each other.

This was different from a few weeks ago. Before, you and Kenny spent most of your time looking at each other while the other wasn’t watching, but now you didn’t even bother to see each other. You were avoiding each other at all costs.

Kyle was back after a year and was taking all your attention when it should have been him, not Kyle. And not only that, but you looked miserable. Not only him but the teachers and your classmates noticed it too. And everyone knew it was because Kenny and you stopped hanging around and talking.

That was what hurt Stan the most. He could see how much Kenny meant to you. He at least wanted to make you feel happy. He missed your smile so much, but he was aware that he wasn’t going to be able to approach you without Kenny throwing a tantrum. So he started to leave post-its every morning on your desk with compliments that he knew would make you at least chuckle.

He saw how every time you read one of his notes, a glimpse of a smile was visible on your face. Even if it was for only a second, Stan was able to make you happy.

“I swear to god I’m gonna punch him if he keeps doing whatever he’s doing with her,” Kenny huffed as he took his seat next to Stan.

“What do you mean?”

“Kyle. He’s getting on my nerves way more than he usually does. He just thinks he can swoon her with notes to keep her away from me. And Y/n, she keeps spending all her time with him when she should be apologizing for what she did” Stan was debating if he should tell Kenny the truth he found out not so long ago after hearing one conversation between Red and Nicole. And also, tell Kenny he was the one sending the notes to Y/n. Instead, he stayed in silence. He knew shutting up was better than receiving a punch from a furious Kenny.

n a v i g a t i o n

[jess-le-mess]

Feedist Kinktober - Day 25

(Prompts: Olympian 🏛️ / Kaiju Attack! 🐙)

[Content notes: fat FtM main character; fat cis woman main character; brother/sister dynamics; body issues; weight talk; mild/mutual fat shaming; brief mention of past bullying]

Empira & Dionysus

"You asshole! For the last time, I'm Hercules, not whatever you said." Flynn glared at his sister. How dare she? He'd spent at least fifty dollars on this toga. It'd been hard enough for him to find one in his size, let alone one that was styled in a way that said "Greek god" and not "fat guy in an 80s college movie."

It was the belt, Flynn thought, that tipped it over the edge toward the former. It was a fabulous belt. Brown with a gold buckle, like a proper mythological figure.

And he liked the way the toga draped majestically over him, showed off a bit of his hairy chest, top surgery scar a bit visible---something that would've made him mortified not that long ago, but more and more he was coming around to letting himself be visible like that.

"Dionysus."

"Right. Don't know who that is, but I'm assuming it's a fat joke."

Heather snorts while typing something on her phone. "Dumbass. How could you know who Hercules is and not Dionysius?"

Flynn threw part of his toga into the air, like a cape, in an offended huff. "Sorry, I guess we didn't cover the classics in Engineering school. We mostly covered how not to be unemployed."

"Excuse you, asshole! I am not unemployed! I'm a therapist."

Flynn sniffed. "Oh yes. That is certainly a job. That exists. Anyways, were you still wanting me to give you a ride to the costume party or will you just marinate yourself in the satisfaction of hurting my feelings while I leave you here?"

"No, goddammit, you know I don't have a car," Heather whined.

"You could walk."

"Fuck that," Heather retorted. "And I'm not walking all that way in my costume I'll die."

Flynn stared at his sister. She was sitting in his recliner, her wide hips taking up the whole thing, in a fuzzy pink hoodie and deep blue leggings with stars on them.

"Is your costume 'fat girl on her phone'?"

"Oh, so you can make fat jokes, but I can't? I feel this is sexism or whatever. And anyway smartass, my costume is out in your hallway. I just haven't had a chance to put it on yet because of your miscellaneous bullshit."

"Well, perhaps now is a good time, your majesty?"

Heather grumped, and reached out her hands. "Fine. But you gotta help me up from this chair. I swear to god it's trying to eat me."

Flynn laughed, and pulled his sister to her feet with a grunt. "There you go," he said sweetly, slightly enjoying his sister's frustration as she ambled off into the other room.

*****

Heather returned almost an hour later, in an olive-green tank dress, giant wings with a kaleidescope-esque pattern on them, her eyes coloured by heavy green eyeshadow and glitter, ruffled-looking brown gloves, and her usual black combat boots.

"And what were you supposed to be again? Dion-whatever-the-fuck?" he asked, trying to throw back the snark she'd tossed at him when he came out in the toga, but his heart wasn't really in it.

"It's Dionysus, you loser."

He knew the costume was supposed to be Empira, this butterfly kaiju Heather made up when they were kids. Flynn had gotten bullied by some kid and Heather had swooped in and to the kid's answer of "Who the fuck are you?" said "I'm Empira and I'm here to kill your ass, bitch" to which the kid ran away screaming.

Heather actually got suspended for that, but luckily their mom was a teacher and was able to get the whole thing figured out by the end of that week.

Flynn was still sometimes in awe of his sister. But it wasn't like he hadn't seen her at her worst, or was unaware of her flaws. He'd seen her genuinely anxious; he'd seen her cry; but still, he couldn't shake that feeling that she was somehow invincible. Standing there in her costume with the ornate wings, all five-foot-ten and three-hundred-something pounds of her, not giving a single solitary fuck and ready to take up all the space at the party the two of them were about to attend.

Flynn smiled, unable to keep up the act.

"Why are you smiling like that, weirdo?"

"Do you remember when you threatened that guy? Like when I was in first grade?" Flynn asked suddenly.

Heather laughed. "You mean that little shit Jordan? Fuck yes. Did you see he sells real estate now? In, like, Florida."

"Fucking Jordan," Flynn shook his head.

"Fuc-king Jordan," Heather nodded back.

Their eyes met for a second, and if they had've been very different people he might've given her a hug, thanked her for standing up for him, and for always making sure he was included, even if sometimes he didn't deserve it.

But that was just who they were.

"Anyways, you're gonna have to get that fat ass in gear or we're gonna be even more late!" Flynn jingled the keys to his truck, before jogging off in the direction of his garage.

"Fuck you," Heather called out as she followed behind, laughing.

[lovries]

FALLING FOR YOU

featuring. the dateables (diavolo, barbatos, simeon, solomon).

summary. you're really clumsy, like... incredibly so, they genuinely don't know how you've survived this long.

warnings. gn! reader, clumsy reader.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ ─── DIAVOLO

Did Diavolo take advantage of your clumsiness to play knight in shining armor? Yes, yes he did. He couldn't help himself, you see, because you really did need saving, and if it meant he could get praised by you, then really it's just a bonus. Diavolo always found amusement in your clumsiness, whether you liked it or not.

And right now, his 'y/n-is-about-to-fall' senses were tingling. He heard the familiar sound of your voice calling his name. He turned around, beaming at your form. "Good morni-"

It didn't even take five seconds, your ankle rolling funny and causing you to trip over yourself! You're prepared to come in contact with the polished castle floors, but it never comes, instead you're lifted off the ground completely and into the strong arms of Diavolo.

"Gotcha." He says, grinning smugly. "Are you alright? That could've been pretty bad..."

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm okay!" You say, smiling softly up at him. Diavolo waits, still holding you, but when you don't praise him, he begins to pout. "What's... What's wrong?"

"Don't I get a 'thank you' for saving you?" You chuckle, ruffling his hair, causing him to laugh in turn. Then pushing yourself up slightly, you press a kiss to his cheek.

"Thanks for saving me, my hero~" You say teasingly, but Diavolo's face just grows warm. Ah, your hero? Really? You have no idea what you've just unleashed, Diavolo will now be certain to catch you everytime!

꒰ ♡ ꒱ ─── BARBATOS

Barbatos already has his hands full with Diavolo, but since adding you, the clumsy exchange student, he's been overworking. He didn't mind though, he had no issues playing hero when it came to you, often times saving you before you even manage to get yourself into accidents due to your clumsiness.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Barbatos!" You call with a happy smile, waving and not paying attention to what's in front of you. Barbatos' moved swiftly, lightly taking your shoulders and moving you out of the way of the door you were about to run into.

Your eyes widen, just then realizing the large door in front of you. "That was a close one! Thank you!" You grin, squeezing his hand lightly to reassure him you'll be okay from here on out. Barbatos couldn't help but worry though— he feels that you've only grown more clumsy since he's met you.

"Please be safe." He sighs, and you give him a thumbs up before continuing on only to trip over your own feet. "I-..."

Really, Barbatos should've seen this one coming. He once again makes quick and agile moves, approaching you and helping you up. You've scrapped your hands, but otherwise you're alright. Barbatos shakes his head, taking your hands and giving them soft kisses.

"What am I to do with you, hm?" He asks, peeking up at you, a teasing lilt in his voice. "Come on, let me clean you up before sending you back home."

꒰ ♡ ꒱ ─── SIMEON

Simeon swears you'll be the death of him, as you somehow manage to accidentally miss your seat and fall straight on your ass. "Ah- are you okay?" Simeon rushes to your side, helping you up as you rub your ass.

"Uh, yeah, I guess... hurts," You grumble, wincing as you sit down (carefully, this time). Simeon watches you in horror as you just nonchalantly begin to talk about something else. Didn't that hurt? A lot? Aren't humans incredibly fragile? His heart is going to give out.

"Do you need any ice?" He asks after snapping out of his daze, concern dripping from his tone. You look up at him, and can see the worry written all over his face. It's sweet, how much he cares for your wellbeing, but you know just how clumsy you are and can't help but wonder if he'll ever get used to it?

"I'm okay, Simeon, just sit down!" You usher him to sit down. Simeon still eyes you nervously, but sits down.

"Just how often does stuff like this happen?" Simeon asks, wondering if he should swaddle you up in bubble wrap every morning before you two go out. How much does bubble wrap cost?

You sigh, leaning over the table and taking his hand in yours, smiling reassuringly. "Simeon," your smile drops, a deathly serious look in your eyes that shakes him to his core. "It happens... so often..." Then suddenly your back to your happy self, "Anyways, let's start on this homework!"

Simeon is... concerned, to say the least.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ ─── SOLOMON

After witnessing you trip over nothing seven times, run into several walls and doors, accidentally drop all your stuff, and many other acts of clumsiness, Solomon started experimenting with his potions to find a way to... cure (?) your clumsiness. He just couldn't understand how one person could be so clumsy! Your body littered in random bruises and scraps.

"Seriously," Solomon tsks, "can't you just wait until I finish the potion before doing... anything?" You furrow your brows— potion? What potion? Before you can question him, he begins inspecting you for any other bruises.

"Sol! I'm fine, really!" You say, however Solomon finds another new bruise and points it out. "Okay, well... yeah, I don't know how I got that, but listen-" He puts a finger to your lips, effectively stopping you from speaking.

"Not another word." He says, looking you over. "Just... Just stay seated. I'll be finished soon." He turns around to face his cauldron, a concoction brewing in there. Test forty-three, but he's feeling good about this one!

"Finished with what?" You ask, leaning back in the seat boredly, staring up at his ceiling. Solomon sighs, adding some ingredient you've never heard of before. He's about to speak when a loud clatter sounds from where you are. Whipping around, you pop your head up and laugh, smiling at him nervously.

"H- How did that happen?" You spit out quickly, scrambling to fix the chair and sit in it properly. "Anyways, you were saying?"

Solomon can't help the lopsided smile that grows on his face. At least you always seemed optimistic? He sighs, maybe he'll finish testing out a new potion tomorrow and spend the rest of the day with you and your clumsy self.

﹙ thank you for reading! have a wonderful day! ﹚

[angelplummie]

Okay so like for starterssssss, I love getting represented as a chubby gal 🥺🥺 so I love you for writing that last Oikawa imagineeeee 😩😩😩

Soooo, I was wondering if I could request a plus size reader that really likes Kuroo, (and he’s like a super cliché bad boy🤰🏽) but he’s too embarrassed to be seen with Y/n. So she starts to hit on his friend or try to make him jealous. (I want you to add your own little idea here! But likeee, make her a baddie 😘😘)

Thanks baby 😚

HE’S A SCUMBAG DON’T YOU KNOW

KUROO X CHUBBY F!READER

Angsty?? kinda, a pinch of suggestive stuff

masterlist

post girlboss was referring to

a/n:i decided to go for emo / anger issues / definitely has punched a hole in his wall kuroo, just cuz i love writing losers, and i love seeing grown men cry. reader is like 20/21 just like college age yk, kuroo is 23 as stated in fic. p.s where my artic monkey hoes at

warnings: swearing, mentions of sex n specific sexual acts, suggestive stuff, uhhh bad boy but he’s not a (bad boy) he’s just a (bad) (boy) he’s just no good, like no fr never date guys like this, he may SEEM COOL and give you the dick but girl you will be so embarrassed once u realised u gave up the kitty for a man that genuinely believes tame impala and mac demarco are unheard of and calls himself an empath even though he’s mean to his mum every time she comes over to help with the laundry and has manipulated every girl he’s ever been in the vicinity of but i digress! on with the story!

“Kuroo-!” you yelped in surprised, bed bouncing beneath you. The second he had thrown you down, he ripped off his shirt and made a noise of frustration when he couldn’t shed his skinny jeans fast enough. Brows furrowed, he began hopping furiously to yank them off.

You laughed, much to his annoyance.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep up with that. What’s the rush?”

He sighed, and carefully pulled them off his ankles. Standing up straight, he seemed to have composed himself, with that cocky smirk on his rugged face. Your eyes trailed down his lean, long body. It was all you could do not to scream, he was so gorgeous. He took a few sweeping steps to where you lay, and got right on top of you, hands either side of your head. His eyes bore into you, it made you squirm internally, not that you would ever admit it.

“Just want you so bad, kitten.”

You barked out a laugh as if your heart didn’t jolt at his stupid pet name. It was such a stupid name, but coming from him it made you melt. Again, not like you’d ever admit it.

“Ew, Tetsu don’t call me kitten, it’s cr-“

He cut you off by leaning down and kissing you, you could feel his snake bites against your bottom lip. He groaned softly, shoving his tongue down your throat. He tasted like his sour apple vape, and his hair was soft when you ran your fingers through it. You could barely contain your butterflies, eyes squeezed closed.

“Come on babe, you know you like it.”

No matter how many times you and Kuroo hung out, it always felt so fresh. Maybe it was because he was exciting, or because he was a little bit wild, you didn’t know.

He leaned down closer to you, getting on his elbows, deepening the kiss. He pulled away and smirked at your breathlessness. With a slender, ring adorned hand, he reached beneath your top and cupped your tits over your bra. He gave them a sharp squeeze and started placing chaste kisses on your neck. He was considerate like that, didn’t leave hickeys because he knew they’d be hard to cover for you. He groaned as he jiggled the fat of your boobs in his hands,

“God, you have the nicest tits, babe.”

You had been dating for nearly 3 months now, if that was what it was. To be honest, you weren’t really sure what you were. You hang out all the time at his or your place, there was rarely a time when you didn’t have an ache between your legs, one way or another. He didn’t really take you on ‘dates’ but chatting to him was fun in itself, you didn’t need to go out to do that. He didn’t necessarily say romantic stuff either... but he didn’t not say romantic stuff either? He beat up your ex at a party one time! That had to mean something right? He exactly wouldn’t tell you how he felt but he showed you, kissing your cheek or tilting your chin up to look at him or kissing your neck or feeling you up. But that usually led to sex, so you couldn’t be certain. It wasn’t like you only screwed though, you watched your favourite movies together... although the last couple times he just started fingering you. You showed him your playlists? No no, he showed you his playlists, his sex playlists. There seemed to be a common theme here. But... there were times, afterwards, when he would pull in you so tight, tell you how good you were for him, how well you did, how pretty you looked. Any doubts you had were gone after a few hushed words on his tobacco reeking rickety old bed. You’d never really had a relationship like this before, but you assumed it was just because Kuroo was so chill. You were probably boyfriend and girlfriend, he just didn’t feel the need to announce it, he was laidback like that. So what if you guys had a lot of sex? Weren’t you a new couple? Wasn’t this just the honeymoon stage were you can’t get your hands off each other? You didn’t want to seem high maintenance and nag, so you let it be. He was sweet enough to you, right now everything was good.

Until it wasn’t.

A clatter sounded downstairs, the door slamming open against the hallway wall.

“Kuroo! Hey man, I brought some California!”, a voice called from bellow.

Kuroo broke away immediately, spit trailing from your neck to his pink lips.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” Kuroo mumbled, pushing off the bed and scrambling the pick up his discarded clothes and shove them back on.

You sat up, disgruntled, rearranging your bra strap from were he’d kneaded at it.

“What’s wrong? Who is that?”

He shot you a glance before continuing to yank back on his jeans.

“Uh, so change of plan, I can’t do tonight. I need you to go home. Discreetly.”

What?

“What? Tetsu, I’m already here,” you scoffed.

What was going on?

Why was he acting like this?

You had never seen him so... frantic.

“I know babe, and I’m really sorry about that, but my friends are here early than I said.”

“So? Can’t I meet your friends?”

He didn’t reply for a moment, just let out an exasperated breath, zipping up his fly.

“Well, yeah you can meet them, just not with me. I don’t want them knowing that I-“

He cut himself off, but you had heard enough to understand.

There was a beat of silence, only disturbed by Kuroo’s friends calling for him.

Your mouth hung open, and you scoffed in shock.

You shouldn’t be surprised really. It’s so obvious now that you think about it. So that’s what this was. That explains everything. He didn’t really like you, he was just using you. That’s why he didn’t take you anywhere, or why he didn’t show you he cared. It was because he didn’t. He wasn’t “afraid of getting close to people” or “emotionally distant”, he was just upfront about not giving two shits about you aside from your vagina. I guess he didn’t want his friends to know he was furiously screwing a fat girl any chance he got. He was embarrassed of you. You were something to be ashamed of. Your stomach jerked as you got to your feet. You were pissed, but that didn’t mean it didn’t really hurt. You had liked him. A lot.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

You could see the panic in his eyes, it was quite funny actually. Of course you new what it meant, but it still made you feel a little better to watch his eyes widen like that, to hold a shred of power over him.

“I mean- well I didn’t- come on babe you know I didn’t mean it like that-“ he laughed nervously, not noticing the footsteps in the landing. You rolled your eyes. You may have been naive, but you certainly weren’t going to fall for his shit again. Whatever he spouted.

“Don’t give me that bullshit. Just say it, your embarrassed of me.”

“Y/N, please, don’t you think-“

Two men burst through the door, one with spiked grey hair and one with fluffy black hair.

“Kuroo! What the hell are you doing up here we’ve been-“ the grey haired one, stopped when his eyes went from a shirtless Kuroo to you.

Your eyes flickered to Kuroo, he looked mortified.

“Ah. I see. Well, Akaashi, we better give these two some time, we can just-“

“Oh no, I was just leaving,” you grabbed your jacket from on top of his chest of drawers and turned back to the two men, putting on a big smile, adrenaline and fury spurring you on.

“I’m Y/N, by the way.”

Your eyes shot to Kuroo, who looking like get was about to shit himself.

“You probably haven’t heard of me, me and Kuroo have actually been having sex for three months. He kept it a secret because he’s embarrassed of me. We should hang out soon though!”

“Y/N-!” Kuroo yelled, exasperation clear in his tone, but you were already descending the stairs.

He came into the hall, hands rubbing his temples.

“Y/N just come talk for a second, I can-“

But he was cut off by the door slamming.

You got in your car parked outside and sped away.

The whir of the engine and the monotony of the roads cleared your mind a bit, a mist of anger still remaining.

You can’t believe you let yourself be tricked. you were a fully grown woman, but you had been reeled in hook, line and sinker. Not only had you been reeled in, you have been reeled in by a man that still had tik tok LED lights in his room and a fucking monster can collection at the age of 24 fucking years old. The more you thought about him, the more you realised how much of an emo loser he was. Of course you were still hurting, but it was more of the angry hurt you feel when it turns out your crush is homophobic or something (been there done that, don’t ask). He was a waste of oxygen, you had decided by the time you made it back to your apartment. A waste of perfectly good space that could most definitely not get the kitty anymore. You got inside your house, pulled on some comfies and got on facetime with your friends.You told them all about what happened, and they passionately bitched about him with you, confirming your suspicion that they never liked him in the first place. They also told you to forget about his existence, he wasn’t worth a slither of your brain power, he was dirt compared to you. All in all, you felt marginally better, saying goodbye to your friends while they still giggled about how stupid Kuroo’s hair was.

This was just a speed bump, you thought as you tucked yourself into bed, you would get over this.

Fast.

“Who’s Bokuto been talking to all night?” Yamamoto leaned over to ask Lev, shouting over the blaring music.

It was a week after you had thrown Kuroo to the curb, and he was out with a couple of volleyball friends, some from Nekoma, but there was also Bokuto with them.

“I’m not sure. I think it’s Y/N something? She’s in class. She’s pretty chill.”

Kuroo’s ears perked up, and he turned around to face his friends up against the bar.

“Bokuto’s talking to who?” he said through gritted teeth.

“Y/N. She goes to my-“

“I know who Y/N is,” kuroo snapped, taking a swig of the beer in his hand and scanning the dance floor for either one of you. He found bokuto first, shoulder against the wall, holding a drink as he leant down to have you whisper something in his ear. That’s when Kuroo paid attention to you. You looked... you looked gorgeous. He felt jealousy creep up inside him. How many times had you been out looking like that since you broke things off? How many guys had you slept with since? How dare Bokuto chat you up when he knew you two had been a thing? Wasn’t he meant to be Kuroo’s friend? As Kuroo wound himself up, you and bokuto continued your extremely pleasant conversation.

“I just wanna say, sorry about Kuroo. He’s a real bonehead, but we’ve been friends since high school so I can’t ditch him.”

You snorted into your cocktail.

“What?”

“Bonehead?”

He frowned and straightened up indignantly.

“Yeah, and? What’s wrong with bonehead?”

“No no, nothing, it’s just very Legally Blonde.”

He beamed down at you.

“I love Legally Blonde!”

“You do? Me too!”

This big beefy man was very cute, you had been talking for nearly three hours now, but you never ran out of things to say. And, aside from the obligatory introduction compliments, he had not made any move to try and get you into a wendy’s bathroom as quick as possible, which you couldn’t say of yours and kuroo’s first meeting.

He had dreamy eyes, you noted as he smiled for the nth time that night.

“Whose your favourite-?”

“What the fuck are you doing man?”

You glanced scathingly over to the familiar face of your old fling.

“What?” Bokuto asked back, clearly done with his friends bad boy shtick.

“Why are you talking to her when... when you know?”

“What’s there to know? I’m talking to her because I want to, and she wants to.”

He looked over to you for approval.

“Right?”

You nodded, a little nervous. You hated Kuroo’s guts, but you knew how weirdly possessive he was, you didn’t wanna cause trouble for Bokuto.

“See? Now I don’t think she wants to see you, right?”

He looked at you again. You nodded again.

“Ok? You guys are over, now are we done?”

Kuroo huffed. His eyes flitted from Bokuto to you, remembering you were there most likely, and he scowled.

“No, we aren’t done, what are you trying to pull anyway? Trying to piss me off by talking to someone I know? Are you really that petty? Well, your little plan is working, so just-just stop, ok?”

You felt like screaming. You had just come out here to have a nice time, not listen to Kuroo’s narcissistic whining.

“Can you just fuck off? Was I not clear enough or something? You’re dead to me, Kuroo. I’m just trying to have a nice night.”

Kuroo’s mouth gaped open. He had never been spoken to like that, never. He clenched his fists at his sides and his glare intensified.

“You’re lucky I gave you the time of day, fat ugly slut.”

He grabbed Bokuto’s shoulder roughly, turning him to face him completely.

“Hey man, thanks for clearing up my sloppy seconds, really good of you. Good to know I’ve got great friends like you.”

Those were the last things out of Kuroo’s mouth before bokuto landed a punch on his cheek, knocking him to the ground.

“You’re a fucking asshole man,” Bokuto grunted.

He stepped over where Kuroo lay, and held out a hand for you to step over too. You took it quietly and trailed along behind him to the door, fingers still locked. His hands were warm, and big. Kuroo’s face must hurt right now. The thought made you smile. He held the door open for you before sighing, resting his back against the wall. You stood in front of him, twiddling with your fingers.

“I am so sorry about that,” You apologised, embarrassed and shaken by the scene Kuroo had made, “I shouldn’t have wound him up, and I shouldn’t have talked to you after I knew you guys were friends, I promise I didn’t mean to start anything.”

“Don’t be, if anything I’m sorry for not making him leave right away. And either way,” he gently reached for your hand again, and you let him take it,”I’m glad you talked to me. I’d like it if you talked to me even more.”

DISCLAIMER FOR KUROO STANS!!!! I DONT THINK HIS HAIR IS STUPID!!! it’s just when ur bestie is going thru a break up or anything entailing a male you shit talk everything about him to high hell, doesn’t matter if he’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. also i have no ill will towards kuroo nor any of the characters i write shit bag fan fics about i just like to complain any way i hope you enjoyed! reblogs and replies always appreciated!!!

[wayward-dreamer]

Confidence

Square/s Filled: Photographer!Jensen - @spnaubingo / Body positivity - Tell Me A Story Bingo @supernatural-jackles

Pairing: Photographer!Jensen x F!Plus size!Reader

Word count: 2,500

Summary: Y/N is a little nervous about her national campaign photoshoot. Jensen gives her a small pep talk, but as they both already knew, her natural confidence is her greatest strength, allowing her to take the leap in more ways than one.

Warnings: Swearing, minor thoughts on body issues, fluff, smut: dirty talk, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up people)

A/N: I'm a little nervous myself about this one, so I hope you all like it! As always, happy reading and enjoy! :)

Y/N sipped her coffee as she walked into the large room, smiling at the assistants setting up for the shoot. She said a quick hi to each of them, making her way to the hair and make-up station. Her usual hair and make-up girl was already set up and waiting for her, a kiss to each cheek for both of them before Y/N sat in her chair. She waited patiently as the woman started on her hair first, which gave her time to finish her coffee as she scrolled through social media on her phone. She let out a large exhale as she closed her eyes, calming herself down with her routine breathing exercises.

Y/N had done many photoshoots before, but never a national campaign for a lingerie brand. She hadn’t always been confident in her body in the early days of her career, and the industry hadn’t always been kind, but she had managed to surround herself with people who were genuine. So when the brand asked her to pose for them, she immediately said yes. She believed in the body positivity they stood for, and she wanted to be the face of that.

But in that moment, for whatever reason, she felt a sense of dread. Maybe she wasn’t the one who was meant to do this.

Y/N glanced up into the mirror as she heard several voices behind her, a huge smile coming to her face as she recognized that boisterous laugh she loved so much. Her heart thumped faster as Jensen came into view, his pearly white teeth on full display as he smiled at her, his swagger adding to his sexiness as he came up to her.

“How are ya, darlin’?” he asked, leaning down and kissing her cheek.

“Alright,” she replied, sighing as she tried not to show her nerves. “Just want to get started. Get it over and done with.”

He frowned, crouching down beside her as he looked up at her. “That doesn’t sound like you. You’re usually the enthusiastic one.”

“I know, I just… this is a huge deal,” she muttered, biting her lip. “Maybe they didn’t mean to pick me.”

“Yes they did,” he reassured her, firmly. His hand slipped overs, gripping tight and causing butterflies to flutter in her stomach. “You’re meant to do this, Y/N. It is a big deal and if there’s anyone who can handle it, it’s you.”

She smiled, softly as she gazed into his perfect green eyes. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” he replied, winking. “How long have we been working together?”

“Four years,” she replied after thinking about it for a second.

“And how many times have I lied to you?”

“Never,” she said, shaking her head as she squeezed his hand.

“Exactly,” he whispered. He stood up and stared down at her, smirking. “So let’s do this.”

Y/N squared her shoulders as she watched him walk away, getting his camera set up. She smirked confidently all the way through the rest of her make-up session and getting into the first piece of lingerie. She threw on the white button-up shirt over the pink bra and panties set, walking out to the main room. Jensen’s jaw tightened as he saw her, shaking the thoughts out of his head that he was having about her. It wouldn’t be the first time he found himself distracted by her, but he had always kept things professional. She was a friend and colleague, and he didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that.

He took a few test shots before they really got started. He always loved the way she worked the camera, her confidence exuding out of her in every shot. She was the best advocate for anything to do with body positivity, even if she had a few doubts along the way. That didn’t mean it wasn’t within her in everything she did. He nodded in approval as she shrugged the shirt off slightly, her hands in her hair as she looked straight into the lens, causing him to clear his throat and cover it up with a cough.

Y/N felt better as they got further into the shoot. She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous in the first place; the comfortable feeling within her because of her surroundings allowing her to be more confident. She knew it wasn’t just because Jensen was making her feel that way, but because she was truly excited for this campaign to do the same for so many women.

She changed several times, and he took countless photos of each outfit before she finally got into the last one. He gulped as she walked out in a black lace bodysuit, which even though it wasn’t as revealing as other pieces, it was by far the sexiest. She threw the shirt off as she got down on the floor, which allowed him to crouch down. He clicked repeatedly as she moved her body into different poses. On the last photo, her eyes fluttered closed with one arm by her head, her other hand over her chest, her face completely open and unbothered by everything she was nervous about previously.

“Yeah,” he breathed, looking down at the photo on the small camera screen. “That’s the one.”

Y/N sat up as Jensen offered her his hand, their fingers locking together perfectly as they walked over to the computer. He pointed to the last one and her eyes widened, a small squeal coming out as she leaned into him. He chuckled as he pulled her close, looking through the rest with others that wanted to see the photos as well.

They called the end of the shoot, a round of applause for Y/N made her giggle happily as she thanked everyone, heading back into the dressing room to change into her clothes. Jensen waited around for her, getting his assistants to finish packing as she walked out, dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt, her hair in a high bun.

“Wanna grab dinner?” he asked, a hopeful smile on his face.

“Definitely,” she replied, beaming back at him.

As they walked out of the building and down the street, Jensen watched her. She was carrying herself the way she always did, her head held up high and her shoulders back. She looked like she could take on anything, and that made his heart soar. He had been in love with everything about her for so long, and yes, they had to be professional but that didn’t mean he could deprive himself of being with her any longer.

Slowly he reached for her hand, stepping in front of her and cupping her cheek with his other hand, softly. He looked deep into her eyes as his thumb stroked over her skin, a smirk on his lips as she smiled. However, before he could make the move, she pushed herself up on her toes, once again confident in her actions, and pressed her lips against his in a sensual kiss. He moaned softly as she deepened it, her hands roaming up his hard torso and resting on his chest as he pulled her close.

She pulled back abruptly; her breath harsh as she gazed up at him. “Can we skip dinner?”

He chuckled, nodding. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

Keys rattled against the wood of the door as it pushed open quickly, frenzied hands pulling at clothes as Jensen stumbled into his apartment, pulling Y/N along with him. Their lips were fused together, neither making a move to stop the feverish kiss until it became clear they had to for them to remove each other’s clothes. She unbuttoned his plaid shirt and pushed it down his arms before she lifted hers, letting him take off her white t-shirt. The rest came off quicker, leaving a trail through his living room as they staggered into his bedroom.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he groaned, his hands sliding from her cheeks over breasts covered by a light pink, lace bra.

Pulling down the cup, his lips closed over her nipple causing a breathy moan to leave her. She held his head in place, biting her lip as she felt his tongue flicking over the stiff bud in circles. She reached down and grabbed the edge of his boxers, letting her hand slide under the waistband. Her fingers brushed over his shaft, getting harder as she started stroking her knuckles over it.

“You’re so fucking big,” she whispered, her words husky against his ear, causing a shiver to run down his spine. “Can’t wait to feel you inside me…”

He growled as he lifted his head, kissing her roughly as he pushed her back on the bed. His lips trailed down her body, softly sucking at her nipple once more as he continued to drift down. Her legs spread as he kneeled on the floor, his eyes on her as she pushed up on her elbows. His mouth pressed against her covered mound, his fingers reaching up to rub against the delicate fabric. He felt her getting wetter, smirking as his thumbs curled under the edge and pulled her panties off, throwing them over his shoulder.

“So fucking perfect…” he muttered, softly as he lowered his head between her legs.

Y/N let out a gasping moan as she felt his tongue lick a long stripe against her folds, her head dropping back as he repeated the action. She laid back down as his lips closed over her clit, his tongue running in tight circles over it. Her hands pushed into his short hair, gripping tightly as he continued his ministrations, alternating between licking over her swollen nub and over her folds.

“Taste so fucking good, darlin’,” he groaned, pulling back slightly and kissing her inner thigh. “Love feeling how wet you are against my tongue…”

“Jay,” she moaned, loudly as she glanced down at him. “Feels so fucking good.”

“Wanna cum on my tongue, don’t you, sweetheart?” he asked, smirking as he looked up at her.

“Yeah,” she whimpered, nodding slowly as her eyes fluttered closed.

Jensen continued to move his skilled muscle against her, her moans and whimpers growing louder and more frantic as he worked her over, like a man starved and finally getting what he wanted most.

“Oh fuck, I-” she gasped, her eyes squeezing as she felt the coil in her stomach tighten.

“Come on, Y/N, cum for me…” he groaned against her, “Cum on my tongue, gorgeous…”

Y/N felt the coil snap quicker than she expected, a raspy whimper escaping her as her wetness covered his lips and tongue. She breathed heavily as he lapped at everything she gave him, looking up at him as he stood up, smirking. She sat up on her elbows again, biting her lip as she watched him. He pulled down his boxers, lifting an eyebrow with a smirk of her own as she finally saw him in his god-like form. She had dreamed about him countless times, but it was never quite this perfect.

“Fuck me,” she ordered, reaching for him.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he stated, his hands roaming over her soft skin. He took hold of his cock, smacking the tip against her folds a few times, a wicked chuckle leaving him as she moaned. “You want this cock?”

“Yeah,” she choked out, smirking.

He lined himself up to her entrance and in one swift thrust, Jensen was buried deep within her, his cock completely sheathed by her walls. He gripped her hips in his hands as he began to thrust within her, the pace slow and sensual, but the impact just hard enough to drive her wild. She glanced down, mesmerized by the way he moved within her, watching his cock slide between her folds.

“God, you feel so fucking perfect, Y/N,” he growled, his fingers digging into her flesh. “So perfect wrapped around my cock.”

“Jensen, fuck,” she moaned, loudly as she looked up into his eyes. “So fucking deep inside me, so good…”

Y/N laid back against the mattress once more as Jensen hovered over her. He pressed his lips against hers, the searing kiss along with the way he was moving within her leaving her lightheaded. She gripped his shoulders tight as he picked up the pace, thrusting harder as he felt her walls clenching around him.

“So close, darlin’,” he grunted, his hand roaming down between her legs. “Wanna cum with me, don’t you?”

“Yeah, make me cum,” she whimpered, reaching for his hand and placing it over her bundle of nerves. “Make me cum on your cock…”

Jensen continued to thrust into her, hard and fast as his thumb rubbed her clit in circles, wanting her to get closer to her release just as he was. Y/N felt that familiar pull in her core once more, her eyes shutting tightly as she was completely overwhelmed by everything she was feeling in that moment.

“Cum for me, darlin’… fucking soak my cock,” he groaned, smirking down at her.

Y/N threw her head back, a loud moan escaping her lips as her walls contracted around him, her slick covering his shaft as she reached the peak of pleasure. Her release triggered his, his neck straining back as he let out a rasping moan, her name and expletives on his lips as ropes of his seed coated her walls.

They both breathed harshly as Jensen dropped down beside her, both of them coming down from their high. Slowly, they both looked at each other as they continued to regulate their breathing. They chuckled softly as he moved closer to her, pressing his forehead against hers, gazing deep into her eyes.

“Can’t believe I’ve waited to do that for four years,” he muttered between puffs of air.

“Took you long enough,” she teased, giggling.

Once their breathing had returned to normal, they sat up against the headboard of his bed, unable to take their eyes off each other. He cupped her cheek in his hand, pressing his lips to hers in a soft, sensual kiss.

“I’m glad you finally made a move,” he whispered, looking up into her eyes.

“Me too,” she breathed, smiling softly.

“So… order in?”

She laughed, nodding. “Pizza.”

Y/N watched as Jensen got up from the bed and picked up his phone from the floor. He dialled the number and looked at her as he waited for the place to answer. Smirking, she slid down and spread her legs, her hand roaming down her body, teasing him, taunting him.

“Don’t take too long,” she called out, a mischievous smirk on her face.

“Fuck,” he muttered as he shook his head at her. His eyes widened as the pizza place answered. “Yeah, uh, hi…”

Y/N cackled as he walked out of the room, lying back and staring up at the ceiling in complete bliss, as she waited for Jensen to return for round two.

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[cynettic]

I just read Kitsune reader x yan Scaramouche's fic, may I have gotten hooked on it? and of course, it's just perfect and that's why I'm here to lose a part two with nsfw, thank you in advance and understand if you refuse:3

Link to Part 1

Summary - Taking you captive, Scaramouche continues to see you as a pillar of support. Coming back home to have you there, always. Even if it meant chaining you up.

Pairings - F!Kitsune!Reader x Yan!Scaramouche

Warnings - Smut, slight noncon ( I tried to make it as consensual as possible but its difficult with yandere themes ), fingering, electricity play

Rating - NSFW

Penpal - Ahhh I'm actually beginning to get attached to this series, might end up writing a couple more posts with different hc and stuff. I hope you liked the post though, have a great day <3

A/N - The literal definition of the ‘stoic cruel boy who’s mean to everyone but you.’ Oh well, Scaramouche is ooc af, but I did change a few things in his backstory so its supposed to make sense for this story ;) Also- since we dont know Scaramouche’s actual name, I have the reader still… yknow, call him Scaramouche. Which is kinda weird cause its his harbinger name but oh well. Also, credit to @cycletr4in for proofreading it ;3

Taglist - @cursedraiden

Stay with Me pt.2

Scaramouche was a gentle captor.

In contrast to piercing eyes and harsh stares when it came to others, he had a soft spot for you. Like the ice that encased him whole melted at your touch, craving for the warmth only you could give him. For your arms around him, to play pretend and imagine he were a child, free, fearless, unbound. A child in your arms, safe and protected.

But you were held hostage, which meant that the chains around your wrists and legs held you down and secured you. Like you were bound to one spot like you’d always been, except this time you didn't have a choice.

You weren't waiting for the Kitsune Saiguu.

Hell, you didn't even have your vision.

This brought on resentment for the dark haired boy. You hated him, you despised him for holding you down under his own judgment. But at the same time, all you saw in him was a child, a little kid who hadn't had the time to grow up. The one who refused to do so because it was his only way to survive in the type of world he lived in. Hide behind that same facade he developed as a kid, snide remarks and unrelenting cruelty.

Just to come back to your arms, sobbing because he was still that child. Sobbing because he was still hurt. Sobbing because you were still his beacon of light, of hope.

He depended on you.

And as much as you built up harsh words to use against him, they dissolved in your mouth when you saw him. His vulnerability that he saved for you and you only. A deep part of you cared for him, a little too much.

Gentle fingers brushed through the locks of Scaramouche’s hair, twirling it around and playing with the strands. It was smooth, a small detail no one would have the chance to notice from the distance he put around himself and others. A quiet hum left his lips as he leaned against your chest, eyes fluttering closed against the soothing feeling of you against him.

The lavish silk sheets were soft against your skin, pillow pushing your form to sit up. Just enough to have Scaramouche in your arms, knees on either side of his body as his head rested under your chin. His chest rose and descended, almost on beat with yours, if not just a tad slower.

You hoped he wouldn't hear the way your heart thrummed against your chest.

Warmth, his body flushed against yours, the luxury of a bed and the small candlelight on your bedside. Different from what you’d grown into just on the side of the trail, sitting for decades. Or with your time with the Kitsune Saiguu, it was never this warm, never this gentle.

But this warmth ended at your beating heart, furiously blazing. Sending an urge of adrenaline through your body, whispering ‘run’ through your veins. A primal urge that would've had your hands around Scaramouche’s neck, till he was wrangling and dead.

Till you could escape.

Hand slowly sliding down his jawline, you let your gentle fingers ghost along the soft skin of his neck. Claws outstretched and ready, sharp and pointed with a deadly intent to kill. You could end him so quickly, overturn his trust and make an escape. You deserved it, you deserved freedom. Not a delusional boy who thought himself protector against someone who’s lived decades more than him.

Jolting at the sensation of a soft grip on your wrist, you watched with idle fascination as he simply cupped your wrist in his hold. Not stopping you, not restraining you, he simply brought your hand to his face. To his lips where he pressed the softest of kisses into your palm. So heartfelt and genuine that all you could do was freeze, not even considering clawing his face.

“I love you.”

You both stayed in that position for a few moments more, silence cradling the tension that slowly dissipated from your body. Forlorn eyes watching as he shift the angle of your wrist to kiss your fingertips. He wasn't waiting for an answer, basking in these soft moments where he could hide in your hold. Like a child, forced to grow up too quickly, yearning back for his foolish naivety, yearning for the childhood he missed.

You were that childhood.

Which is why he clung to you so dearly, showed expressions he didnt know he could make, hold you captive under the impression that it was ‘right.’ What he was doing was okay.

Claws retracted, you pursued your lips, holding back the tears of frustration that burned at your eyes. You hated him, hated him for the chains on your wrists, for the disappearance of your vision that you’d given so much value to. Hated him for the warmth he still made you feel.

You hated him.

You felt like a housewife in some respects. Not with the cleaning and cooking part, and of course no children were part of the equation. But in terms of support, you stayed rooted to that room, loose chains too strong for you to break or tug holding you down. Window was too far, and you were stuck moving around the bed and the desk that sat just a little farther away.

Attempts at having your vision back or more freedom in movement had been discussed with Scaramouche, but as childlike and free as he acted with you, he was not an idiot.

“I don’t plan on underestimating you,” was his answer, head resting on the plush of your chest. “You’re strong, always were. But I have to take extremes to make sure you don’t get hurt, some people out there are stronger than you.”

You wanted to point out that there were a ton of people stronger than him as well, but you kept your mouth shut. “Can I at least see the house? I’ve been cooped up here for so long…”

And he cant say no to such an innocent request as that right?

So he unlocks the chains, the vision at his side reminding you that he was strong. You solely knew that he’d been tough as a kid, and under the intensive training he’d seemed to endure, he was much much stronger. You werent willing to give it a go and lose his trust just yet.

Not like he really trusted you anyways-

At the very least, you’d hoped to get some sort of blueprint of the house, and all you’d received was confusion and your mind making up that the house itself was a maze.

“Didnt we… just pass through here?”

Glancing at the obvious frustration on your face, Scaramouche chuckled, pulling your arm through the hallways you swear you’d seen three times prior. “Nope, most of the hallways look pretty similar. The house wasn't built for dumbasses.”

You flashed him a look and were about to make some snideish rebuttal before you saw the smirk. You knew what he was doing, trying to comfort you with casual arguments you both used to have. Consisting of you telling him to work on his people skills, and him calling you a lazy ass. Of course you missed it, but you also knew you couldn't go back to it.

And then there was the issue when you learned that he was a harbinger.

A scene you didnt want to replay in your head, when a maid burst into your room, Scaramouche acting a tad more intimate. He had an awful tendency to do that, hug your waist and press his face against the crook of your neck. Press gentle kisses down the length of your shoulder that had you shuddering. You weren't used to intimacy, and considering you’d watched him grow up, it was just weird.

Stuttering, the maid had demanded that he was requested by the Tsarista. You’d seen the fear in her eyes when Scaramouche slowly turned to her, seen the unshakable immobility of standing under his gaze.

“Do not enter.” He said, “It’s on the door.”

That was the first time you’d seen Scaramouche kill.

You hoped it’d be the last.

But you’d seen death before, so much death in the time of the Kitsune Saiguu. And for a few seconds, you found yourself fearless as you yanked against the chains, yelling at his figure at the doorway.

“Tsarista?” You snarled, standing just a few feet away from him. His hand on the girls neck, clenching around the pretty skin of hers. Disgusted, the chains that held you back from closing the gap and throwing the girl away from him were impossible to overcome. “Why the hell does she need you?!”

‘Let go,’ you wanted to say. ‘Let her go, she’s going to die.’

It worked, because the ironclad grip was gone, the maid tumbling to the ground lifelessly. You’d been too late, and now her blood was on his hands, your hands. This was your fault and you had half the self control not to thrash against the chains with sharp claws, hands on his neck.

The hard steel gaze vanished in an instant, and like he’d regained his senses, he took a few steps to you. Hands clenching to fists before loosening to fingertips brushing against his palms. Confusion, regret and guilt clouded his features like a child waiting to be reprimanded. You didn't back away, stood firm and fierce when standing and keeping a tough front.

You wanted to cry.

“Its… its a long story.” He finally stated to your question, and when you didnt budge, he took a deep breath. In control again, he closed the distance between the two of you, “I’m sorry.” And that same thrum of electricity jolted through your body, sending you into a spiral of the girls lifeless eyes and Scaramouche’s childlike eyes. Till everything went black.

You woke up with the body gone. Scaramouche was gone as well.

You learned that Scaramouche liked to have things his way. Which meant that he was always in control, always had control of every situation.

Even in those short stretches of vulnerability when he rested in your arms, he still held something over you. And you had to adapt, shift for his wishes, coddle him and stay as his beacon. Because he was stronger, and even if you’d find some way to escape, he would find you.

It was odd, and you slowly let go of the image of him as a child, you knew he was a lot older. He’d probably reached the age your body was stuck in, and with every sweet kiss he pressed to your lips, you knew he saw you as some sort of lover. But as someone who wasn't in control, you simply had to play along, just until you found some way to make your escape.

Without killing him.

_-_-_-_-_

“Strip.”

Laying on one side of the bed, your eyes jolted open at the commanding voice. Slowly, you sat up, eyeing the dim figure at the doorway. Without the help of a candle or the moonlight at the window, you could distinguish Scaramouche at the doorway, taking off the large headpiece as he flung it to the ground.

“Excuse me…?” Your voice was soft, rusty after an evening nap.

“I’ll make you feel good,” was his only answer. Slowly making his way to the bedside till he could properly face you. His eyes were soft, but there was an odd sort of determination that you hadnt seen before. You held back his stare, confusion lacing your features when he suddenly started pulling off loose decorations that hung on his clothes. Just till he unlaced the vest and slid off his shirt. “Don’t worry.” But you didnt know quite what he meant until he leaned further to you, catching you off guard.

So you yelped when his hands suddenly slammed down on your shoulders, shifting you to have access to the buttons of your top layer. He was quick when undoing them, simply swatting away at your hands when you protested and tried to pull him away. Throwing it to the edge of the room when he was done, you could only thrash in horror when he undid your trousers just as quickly, pulling them down before you could grab them back up.

“Scaramouche? Hey-”

And then he threw you down on the bed, exposing you in your undergarments in the cool air of the room. Shivers crept up your spine and bristled across your skin, and before you could curl up to at the very least hide away, you felt a tug at your chains. Fear finally settled in when you saw Scaramouche attach the chain to the bedpost, until your hand was lifted up and he began to do the same to the other.

“Wait wait wait, stop and explain what you’re-”

Only then did he pause from what he was doing, slowly looking down to properly face you. His eyes slid up and down your body, and he took a step towards you. “I’ll make you feel good,” were his only words, and you were forced to take them as all he was planning on giving you. Only when he sat on the bed next to you did you realize what he meant, hand settling on your shoulder, waiting.

“Alright,” you said slowly. Painfully, the words bit your tongue, but you were merciless against someone who had control against the situation. You could say no and you knew Scaramouche would stop, he was gentle to you and you only. And even if he’d been firm just before, you knew that he’d still stop if you asked him to.

A part of you felt thrilled to have that power over him.

Another part of you just wanted to escape.

But you didnt have any hope to do so unless you were willing too give him everything. Because he expected everything and would do anything in his power to obtain it. You’d let him fiddle around with this delusion, thinking that he had control. Until he didnt.

Which is why you didnt flinch when his hand gently slid up your stomach, cold against the warmth you’d had under the blankets. Rubbing gingerly against your skin and drawing smooth shapes over before he slowly slid over your body. His eyes seemed to glint under the darkness of the room, lust filled and wanting.

You didnt shift uncomfortably, you pretended to be that doll he expected you to be.

Just staring up at him as he slowly leaned down to kiss you. His lips felt like snowflakes on a winters day, idly swaying side to side to catch one in your mouth. Jolting like electricity when they melted into your touch, red and swollen when he pulled back. You now vividly felt every touch, as if a current flowed and static jittered in the places he briefly brushed his fingertips.

“You always take such good care of me,” he breathed, lips slowly drifting down your chin. Just past your jawline and right on your neck. The space between your head and shoulder, a soft vulnerable spot that had your lips humming at the affectionate pressure. “Its my turn to take care of you.”

And then his lips were everywhere, collarbone, shoulders, cleavage. Just until his teeth were tugging off your bra, face nuzzled in between both breasts. Both of his hands now resided on your hips, grabbing both thighs to hold them up and against him. You could feel him hard, pressing so close to your heated core.

You managed to keep your reactions in check.

Just until he slowly grinded against you, mouth on your breasts as he again pecked the soft mounds, molding his lips against them as if he could remember the texture, memorize the feel. It was just to that point that mindless sounds slipped past your lips, turning to gasps when his hands on your thighs suddenly buzzed, and static rushed in. Your legs felt weak, entire body thrumming in response to the electricity he sent jolting.

He was using his vision.

The realization was numb against his lips on your breasts, hands slowly stroking the skin of your sides, travelling up. He hovered over you for mere seconds before mashing his lips against you once more, different. He was no longer gentle, and it was with the contact on your tail that you lost all control. When he gently moved it out of the way, backing up.

You were a mess.

Not that you tried to be, you’d been doing your best not to enjoy his touch. But it was hard when your core heated up so fast, mashing both legs together in hopes he wouldn't notice. You knew he would, any action beyond that was just you trying to save your dignity.

He sat there like he was enjoying the sight, the first time you’d seen him actually portray any visual confirmation of satisfaction towards the chains. He’d drink dry any ounce of control you gave him, and it was impossible not to give him it all when you were visionless and vulnerable.

But the dignity you struggled so hard to keep shattered when his hands brushed against your inner thigh.

Fingers slowly made their way to the padded fabric of your undergarments, two digits rubbing the area slowly with expertise. You bit your lip, muffling any groan of anticipation, hiding the way your hips tried to rock back into the gesture. Desperate, oh so desperate. Hiding back the whimpers as he slowly quickened the pace of his fingers against your garments. “Archons Y/n,” he murmured. “I haven't even put anything in and you’re already a squirming mess.”

“Shut u-up,” was all you managed, trying to shift away from the pressure against your clit. But his other hand was on your hip, holding in place. You could only watch and press your thighs tightly together as he slowly slid down your panties, resuming hovering over you. Distracting you with kisses, his fingers gently stroked your core, two fingers slowly sliding into your cunt using your juices.

He was gentle when pumping both fingers in and out, too slow when you thrust your hips to meet his fingers, pleading for him to go faster. But he liked hearing your cries, slowing down when you begged, quickening when you whined and just lay there, taking it.

You shuddered the first time electricity jolted from his digits.

It was when he had three fingers that he sent the static up your body, back arching with such intensity that it even had him chuckling. “Oh? You like it that much?” And then it is like something buzzed against your body, fingers vibrating against your clit as your thighs tightened around his hand. So much that you thought you’d crush it, but it didn't matter, not with the electrifying feeling against your body. It felt so odd, so overwhelmingly good that it had your legs sliding up and down the bedside, toes curling as the static grew and you fell paralyzed to his touch.

It didn't take long with his fingers thrusting in and out of you to cum. Moaning mess when he gave you the time to breathe, teeth biting your bottom lip and then mashing against yours. Your eyes grew fuzzy and most happened in a haze, and all you knew the entire time was that you’d given yourself to him, and that it felt good. You couldn't see the childlike wonder in his eyes anymore, not the need of a beacon or of support. No, the look he shared was feral, the smile tinting his lips almost scary. But it felt too good to care, and you let yourself enjoy his ministrations.

He pulled out and suddenly his own shorts were undone, boxers thrown to the side of the room just like all your other clothing. You didn't see how big he was, just felt his hard shaft against your throbbing cunt, pussy dripping and legs open wide and tired after your first go at it.

You expected him to be gentle like he’d been with his fingers. But he pressed the tip against your core, and in one full motion he was in. Teeth grinding against each other, you held back a scream, shock coursing through your body, overwhelmed with pain and discomfort. It hurt. But it was quickly overshadowed by his movements as he slid in and out of you, slow when pulling his hips back, and rocking himself completely inside you each time. A pattern that let you catch your breath and lose it all the same. Like he was continuously having a go at hitting the deepest parts of you, pulling back before fully thrusting into you and sending waves of pleasure and pain alike.

It was expected, but you couldnt hear yourself.

Not with your mind trapped in a haze of how he felt, body still buzzing after how he’d pulsed his vision through you. And now you were at the mercy of his member, hips swaying along with his, no energy for you to rock with him and try to push him deeper.

Archons, you didn't even think he could go deeper.

But you were proven wrong again and again as he kept the steady pace, hands clawing at your ass and hips. Stabilizing himself and trying to press himself against you, as far as he could go. Slowly, his hands drifted up to your hair, playing with the soft sensation of your furry ears. Pinching and rubbing, fingers coaxing the back of them like a massage. So gentle, but it paled in comparison to the harsh treatment of his dick.

You came first, gripping the chain with your hands in an attempt to stay stable. Walls clenching around him one last time before you got your release, your moans turning into cries when he continued to thrust into you. Your body felt numb, all nerves centred on the way he pounded into you, chasing his own release.

When he did, he pressed his head into your chest, his own breaths heavy with pleasure. Not pulling out, you could only lay there helplessly as his seed filled you, warm in contrast to the electricity he’d shot up your body just earlier. He didnt pull out, and laying in your chest, your heavy breathing didnt stop until he was asleep, collapsing on you and using you as support yet again.

Taking only a minute later to regain control of your senses, you shifted uncontrollably at his member inside of you, sending waves of pleasure every time you moved. Your wrists were restrained and you were stuck in this position till morning.

Achingly, you looked down at the boy, wondering how you would ever manage to escape.