#there’s something soothing about running their fingers through soft curls

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

Naive - L.C

💡Who: Lee Chan (Seventeen) x female reader 💡What: Best friends to ??? Angst. Thriller. Soft moments. Dark themes (please check warnings). 18+ 💡Word count: 11.5k 💡Warnings: Profanity. Stalking. Nonconsensual voyeurism. Nonconsensual photos. Cheating. Major injury (Not Chan or reader). Mentions of a car accident. Mentions of sexual harassment. Mentions of panic attacks and almost panic attacks. No smut, but suggestive content, some dirty talk and mentions of sexual acts. Very morally dark character. Drugging. Kidnapping. Restraints. Chan calls reader angel a lot (mostly because I don’t wanna use y/n), and baby in the second half.

Summary: Breakups are always painful, but at least you have your best friend by your side to make everything better. Right?

Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging and/or commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N- I know nothing about flower meanings, it all came straight from Wikipedia so don't blame me for inaccurate meanings, it's just a fic.

“It’s okay, he’s in the past, he’s not worth your tears,” your best friend soothes as you cry into his chest for the third night in a row.

“I-I should’ve li-listened to you,” you sob, gripping his t-shirt tighter and curling up smaller.

“It doesn’t matter now; what matters is you ended it and never have to deal with that asshole again.”

“A-asshole is too kind.”

Chan chuckles and tilts his head against the top of your head yet says nothing more and simply continues to hold you until you run out of tears for your cheating, pervert of an ex-boyfriend. Proving once again that Lee Chan is the only man you can ever trust to be good and honest.

Over a year ago, you met Lee Chan while in the gardening section of the bookstore. It was a cliché romcom moment where you both reached for the same book and your hands met before your eyes did. He smiled at you with a soft little chuckle and said something like “guess we both want to know what Victorian people thought flowers meant”, which somehow led to you both buying a copy of the book on the Victorian language of flowers to take to the nearby coffee shop with the intention of reading side by side. Though very little reading happened, and you found yourself sitting there with Chan for hours; laughing and talking as if you’ve known one another for years. It was like he was made to be the other half of you, designed with only you in mind.

At first, you thought maybe it was true; that Chan was your romantic soulmate. But you were seeing someone else at the time and pushed the thought of Chan being anything but platonic entirely out of your mind.

It’s a year and multiple failed relationships later, while you’re out shopping on a rare day off, that something changes.

“What do you think of this one?” Chan asks, drawing your attention to where he’s a few racks away donned in the black, leather biker jacket he just found on the men’s sale rack.

“Oh,” you murmur, suddenly hit with the realisation that your best friend is ridiculously attractive.

It’s not that you’ve ever thought Chan is ugly; in fact, you first paid attention to him in the bookstore past a glance because of how handsome he is. But that was over a year ago and your thoughts have never moved on from considering him the same kind of beautiful as you would a piece of art that you see in a store, yet easily move on past without looking back.

Yet now, you’ve noticed and suddenly can’t draw your eyes away from him.

“Hello?” Chan laughs, waving his arms to bring you back to reality when you do nothing more than stare at him for almost a full minute. “You alright? Getting hungry?” He pouts at you teasingly. “Does the baby need num nums?”

“I hate it when you say that” you remind and stick your middle finger up at him, making him laugh while you turn back to the sale rack you had been looking through.

“I know, why do you think I say it?” He cackles and bounces over to prod you and gain your attention back. “You didn’t say what you think? Do I look sexy?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you while posing in the jacket. “Should I get it?”

“Yeah,” you answer with a nod after taking his body in once more and turning away.

“Was that yes to getting it, or that I look sexy?” He murmurs from suddenly behind you with his mouth right by your ear. You jolt in surprise having not heard him approach, then turn to whack his arm while he cracks up laughing. “You think I’m sexyyy!” He sings loudly, just to annoy you.

“Why are we best friends again?”

“I took pity on you and your bad taste in men.” He definitely deserves the hit this time, even if he’s right.

Ever since you’ve known Chan, you’ve had nothing but terrible luck with picking men to date. You always think they’re okay at first, but then the red flags start popping up and begin waving manically in the hot air spewing from their mouths.

You really thought you had run out of bad luck and finally picked a good one with your ex. He was kind and endlessly attractive; a hard worker, yet always made time for fun and relaxation; and his parents loved you.

It lasted a whole seven months before you found another woman’s underwear in his car, and you realised you should’ve listened to Chan’s gut feeling about Kyle from the start. Finding a stack of polaroids of various women getting changed when you were emptying his apartment of your belongings that same night only made the heartache worse. Not only did he cheat on you, but he also likes to take photos of unsuspecting women through windows and cracked doors.

Upon turning your back on him three weeks ago, you decided to give up on men and always listen to Chan’s gut instincts from now on.

You don’t need a boyfriend; you just need your best friend.

Just when you’re about to leave your apartment building to meet with Chan for lunch one day, you come face to face with your ex. He looks, frankly put, like shit. He used to be so well put together, never to an obsessive degree but he was always well rested and tidy, but now he looks like he hasn’t slept or eaten in at least two days with his hair sticking up a little as if he’s been running his hands through it repeatedly. He’s still wearing nice clothes, but they’re creased, and his shoes aren’t even properly tied.

“What are you doing here?” You hiss while glaring at the man and trying to step past him, but he gets in your path with his hands held up placatingly; he even doesn’t attempt to touch you or get in your personal space.

Vaguely, you think how weird it is of him to respect that boundary yet have polaroids of you half naked in the changing room at your gym. A completely separate gym to the one he frequents too, which somehow makes it even worse; that he went so far out of his way to take the photos you never consented to.

“I just want to talk to you, please? Just a few minutes and I’ll go, and you’ll never see me again,” he pleads. The genuine desperation in his eyes makes you relent and nod. “Can we go somewhere a little less public? I’m not asking to go somewhere isolated, just not the middle of the building lobby.”

Again, you relent and move to the side of the lobby out of the light foot traffic; still perfectly in sight of others yet far enough away to have a private conversation.

“Thank you,” he breathes out gratefully and relaxes a little as you lean one shoulder against the wall with your arms crossed over your chest.

“What is it? I’m going to be late to meet Chan.”

“Right, how is he?”

“Good, it’s Chan. He’s always good.” The words are a little pointed, designed to hurt, and the way his features flinch at the jab sends a little surge of satisfaction into you. Though there’s something in you aching at that same hurt in his eyes; it looks too real.

“Yeah, he’s a good guy,” he agrees softly, and you hum. “So uh, I just…I can’t stop thinking about what happened.”

“Cheating on me or taking photos of women without their consent?” You question, glaring again at the reminder of why you want nothing to do with this man before you. This pathetic, sad eyed, mess of a man.

It’s funny how far he’s fallen in so little time. Strange how a man who cheated on you in the backseat of the same car he often pulled you into with shared giggles, can break so much at being called out on his misdeeds.

You really thought he would just move on to the next conquest and forget all about you for good, just like he did while with the other woman. Or women. You never asked how many there were.

Yet the man before you doesn’t seem to have moved on at all.

“I didn’t do either of those things,” he repeats the words he had said to you a little over a month ago. You didn’t believe him then; you were so full of anger and betrayal as you tried to cradle the pieces of your shattered heart and hoped he hadn’t stolen any of the pieces leaving you unable to stitch it back together again.

Now that you’ve let go of most of your anger and Chan has helped you in putting the pieces back together to the point that your heart is almost whole and healing, you can see through the pain and tears and notice that this man in front of you looks genuine. He’s looking at you without any attempt to look aside or shrink away. He isn’t hiding.

“I found underwear in your car Kyle,” you point out, holding your ground even if you suddenly realise that something here doesn’t feel right. “And those photos in your apartment.”

“I know, I know, and I’ve been trying to figure out how the fuck they got there because it wasn’t me.”

“You live alone and don’t share your car.”

“I know!” He exclaims, hands flying up in frustration, though it doesn’t feel like it’s aimed at you, especially as he steps back to make certain that he doesn’t accidentally hit you. Kyle’s always been considerate like that; always made sure to give you a wide berth when he flung his arms around in play or frustration. But that doesn’t mean he can’t be a cheating pervert. A man can be against physically harming his partner and still betray their trust so deeply.

“Then only you could’ve put them there.”

“No, no, I didn’t though,” he steps closer while lifting his hands between you, though he brings them to his own chest instead of touching you. “Look me in the eye and tell me I have ever done a thing to make you think I would cheat on you or take photos without consent. I never even asked you for pictures; you were the one who offered and asked if you could send me pictures months into our relationship.”

The thing is, he’s right. Although you did have sex regularly and he would send you dirty texts when he was in the mood, Kyle never asked for nudes. You had to be the one to bring it up and ask if he was against that kind of thing.

Now that he brings it up, you can vividly recall him telling you that does enjoy nudes and would certainly enjoy seeing photos of you like that, but he also knows how dangerous they can be to send and receive because of hacking, losing phones or breaking up. He had been so genuine about it and triple checked that you were comfortable with it entirely before giving you consent to send him photos whenever you wanted.

“You had those polaroids, you didn’t need me to send you any,” you reason in a mumble. You don’t even know if you believe what you’re saying at this point, or if you’re just trying to explain the behaviour away. Something isn’t sitting right in you.

“Why would I want polaroids of random women I don’t even know when I have you?” He asks, eyes silently begging you to understand.

“There were photos of me too,” you answer.

“What?” He frowns confusedly. “I didn’t see those, just the top ones before you took them all away.”

“You know I was in there, at the gym changing rooms.”

“I’ve never been anywhere near your gym!” He puts his face in his hands. “I don’t understand what the fuck is going on. I swear I have never been to your gym.” He looks at you imploringly as his hands drop. “And you know I keep my car clean, there’s no way I would’ve failed to notice that underwear; so if I did cheat on you, do you really think I’d miss the evidence and leave them somewhere you’d see them?”

You open your mouth to retort automatically, only to realise there isn’t a single word ready to roll off your tongue. He’s making far too much sense and that doesn’t make sense.

He cheated on you. He’s a pervert who takes photos of unsuspecting women in vulnerable situations. He’s a terrible person.

At least, you thought he was.

Maybe Chan is right and you’re just naïve when faced with a handsome man giving you big puppy dog eyes.

“I need to go,” you decide after a few long moments of trying to form some kind of reaction other than staring at him with furrowed brows. “Chan’s waiting.”

“Right,” Kyle lets out a disappointed sigh, yet nods resignedly and steps back as if giving you space to leave. He hadn’t been in your way in the first place but it’s a silent sign that he won’t try to stop you. “I guess I can’t say anything else to convince you that I didn’t do those things, and I never would. I…I wanted to marry you, you know?”

“What?” You whisper in shock, eyebrows lifting as your eyes turn wide. “Marry me?”

“Yeah,” he lets out a soft, humourless laugh and runs one hand through his hair while looking aside, a shy flush creeping onto his neck and ears. “I was in love with you.”

“You were?”

“Yeah, well, no, actually, that’s a lie.” He looks at you and catches the way your face falls into a frown hearing him admitting to lying to your face like that. “I’m still so fucking in love with you that I can’t function properly knowing you hate me. I’m not asking you to come back to me; I know that won’t happen. I’m just…asking you to really think about it, about us, and me. I never lied to you, never showed you a false me. You know me better than anyone else. Do you really believe I did those things?”

“What took you so long?” Chan pouts at you when you sit down in your usual seat opposite him at your usual table in your usual café. “Angel?”

“Uh, so Kyle was at my apartment,” you inform, picking up your mug that’s been waiting for you for ten minutes already thanks to Chan always ordering for you both. Usually you arrive minutes before your food and drinks arrive, but today you’re late for the first time.

“What?” Chan’s face drops so drastically it throws you off for a second. You’ve never seen such a dark expression on him; you’ve never seen him so entirely void of any light. He doesn’t look like your best friend. “Your apartment? Did he force himself in? Did he hurt you?”

“No, no, I meant the lobby and no, he’s never hurt me. He wouldn’t do that.”

“He cheated on you, took fucking creeper shots of you in your gym and you think he’s above putting his hands on you?” He scoffs, shaking his head a little and pushes the salt across the table to you. You hadn’t asked for it, but you will before you start eating.

He’s always doing thoughtful little things like that for you, but you’ve never really noticed it until the last weeks. Silently noticing what you need and giving it to you with a smile.

But he’s not smiling now. He looks concerned now, rounded eyes locked on you and head tilted down a little as he frowns, almost looking at you through his eyelashes. “I don’t want to be mean or anything, but he fooled you before, angel, he’s clearly trying to do it again. I don’t know what he said to you, but you’ve got that lost look you get when you don’t know what to do.”

“He made good points, Channie,” you reply as you salt your fries before putting the shaker down. Chan doesn’t even look at it past a quick glance before sliding it back to its home out of the way.

“What good points could he have for cheating on you?”

“He said he didn’t do it-” Chan sighs heavily, cutting you off.

“Angel, he said that before, remember? Why do you suddenly believe that piece of shit?”

“Because…he looked honest.”

Chan stares at you for a moment before he sighs and reaches over to hold your hands. “I say this with all the love in me, but you’re not the best judge of character, angel. You’re naïve, innocent. I love that you see the good in the world and everyone, really, I fucking love it; it’s really sweet and cute. But it’s going to get you hurt all over again if you let him fool you like this.”

You look down at your hands in Chan’s, then back up at his face. His gaze is entirely open; big eyes and soft, naturally pouting lips. Your heart skips a beat.

You look away while nodding in understanding, silently telling him that you’re listening to him as you free your hands so that you can pick up your fork.

“Good, I really don’t want to see you hurt again like that. It broke my heart,” Chan says, relaxing as he picks up his own fork to stab too many fries onto the prongs, which he then points at you. “If you break my heart again like that, I’m stealing your TV.”

“My TV?” You sputter in surprise before laughing. Chan grins around the too many fries in his mouth and nods. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love me though,” he sings around his mouthful while stabbing more fries.

Even with the view of his partially chewed food in his mouth, you can’t really deny it.

“No! Stop it!” You giggle while trying to block Chan from entering your kitchen behind you. “It’s not ready!”

“Just tell me what you’re doing!” He replies, laughing along with you as he tries to dart around you.

“Not yet! Just wait, you impatient shit!”

“No!” He wraps his arms around your waist to pull you away from the doorway and spin you both, so his back is to the kitchen now instead of yours. “Ha!”

“No!” You gasp and reach out, grabbing fistfuls of his t-shirt and in a panic, you yank him closer harshly, unintentionally making him stumble into you.

“Shit, are you okay?” He worries once you’re both steady and he’s holding your upper arms to nudge you back just enough that he can look at your face. You’re frowning, though he can only see your furrowed eyebrows thanks to your hand being over most of the bottom half of your face to cup your nose as his shoulder had collided with it. “Oh, did I hurt you?”

“Asshole,” you murmur while nodding, even if it doesn’t hurt that much; you just honestly like being doted on by your best friend to the extent that you are willing to play up minor injuries to gain his gentle touch and attention.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he apologises, frowning at you as he carefully tugs your hand down. “Let Doctor Channie see.”

“You’d be a terrible doctor,” you reply, moving your hand down to let him cup your face so that he can tilt your head into the light coming in through the windows and see your features better.

“What? I’d be great!” He defends, pouting at you offendedly.

“You thought the uvula is what you pee from.”

“It’s not my fault!” He blushes a little at the reminder of his innocent mix up. “Nobody told me that dangly thing isn’t tonsils! And the pee pipe thingy starts with a U too!”

“Urethra.”

“Exactly, they’re so similar! They should name them differently. Anyway, that doesn’t mean anything, I’d still be a good doctor.”

“Yeah, until you try to catheter someone’s throat.” His expression turns unimpressed, and you can’t help but giggle. He rolls his eyes as his lips turn up into a smile.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he murmurs, turning his attention back to your slightly red nose.

“Mm, so what’s the verdict doc?” You tease, poking at his stomach and trying not to focus on the physical reminder that your best friend has abs under his baggy clothes.

“I think you’ll be okay with the right treatment.”

“And what treatment is that?”

“The best thing for a boo-boo,” he replies seriously, and then visibly nearly breaks into a laugh at the almost glare you land on him. “What?”

“I’m not a baby.”

“Yes you are. My baby,” he coos and taps his thumbs to your cheeks. You hope he doesn’t see or feel the way they warm at his words. “I specialise in baby angels, I know this.”

“You’re seriously ridiculous.”

“Mm, so, are you consenting to Doctor Channie’s effective boo-boo treatment?”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “You haven’t told me what it is yet.”

“You know what the treatment for a boo-boo is, angel,” he chuckles and tilts forward to press a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. “Like that.”

“I didn’t consent to that treatment, I can sue you,” you mumble, trying to distract from the growing pink on your cheeks. Chan’s eyes glide over your features, lips turning up into a soft smile. “Stop smiling at me like that!” You whine, slapping his waist so gently that it can’t even be classed at a slap, more like you’re just putting your hands on his waist with a little force.

“But you’re so fucking cute,” he reasons, smiling wider. “My cute baby,” he murmurs lowly and brushes his nose against yours gently. Your breath hitches at the tender action while your fingers curl reflexively to loosely grip his t-shirt. “Do I have consent to administer treatment, angel?” He whispers, lips so close to yours that you can almost feel them moving as he talks.

“I…” Just as you start to nod, your phone starts to ring in the kitchen, making you jump in surprise and jolt away from Chan in a natural reaction to the unexpected noise. “I should get that.”

“Right,” Chan mutters, dropping his arms to his side with a disappointed frown as he watches you scoot around him to enter the kitchen.

When you pick up your phone from the counter, you’re more than just a little surprised to see your ex’s mother calling you.

You haven’t heard from her since the breakup when she messaged you to say that she doesn’t know what happened, but she hopes that you and her can still be friends as she values you so highly. You hadn’t responded then; you hadn’t wanted to interact with anyone who you knew through him, even if you had regret ghosting her afterwards because she genuinely is such a lovely woman who always treated you lovingly.

Still, even with the period of no contact between you, you pick your phone up to answer the call. “Hello?”

“O-oh thank goodness,” the still familiar voice sobs in relief.

“Auntie? What is it? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Kyle, there-there’s been an accident.”

Just over an hour after receiving the call, you’re tucked up in between Kyle’s parents on the couch of the private room with their arms around you, both of them crying for their son as you do your best to comfort them while feeling numb yourself. You’re too in shock at the sight of the heavily injured man laid unconscious on the bed to process it.

When you had arrived with Chan right behind you, the pair had just about managed to tell you through their tears that Kyle had been driving to work that morning when another vehicle had violently run him off of the road.

It had been on such a quiet road so early that nobody else was around; no witnesses to give details of the other car, nor to run to his aide or call for help. By the time someone found the wreck in the ditch, it had been long enough that too much damage had been done.

And now, even after hours of surgery, there’s no knowing if Kyle will make it through the night, let alone wake up again. There’s only waiting.

So, you wait.

“They’ll call if there’s any sign,” Chan reminds as he helps you out of your jacket. “You spent two days by his side, angel, there’s nothing more you can do for him. He’s not your responsibility or person to care for anymore. His parents and sister are there, and they promised to call you.”

“I know,” you reply, moving woodenly as Chan leads you through your apartment to the kitchen with his hand in yours to keep you moving.

He flicks on the light and falls still at the sight of the mess you left on the counter from leaving so quickly three evenings ago to get to the hospital. He never learned what you had been refusing to let him see until now. “Cake,” he murmurs, noticing the half decorated cake on the counter, surrounded by all the items you had been using to decorate it.

“For your new job,” you reply with a shrug. “It’s no good now. Sorry, I’ll buy you a replacement tomorrow.”

“No, no, you don’t have to. Just knowing is enough for me,” Chan assures, turning to bring you in to hold against his chest where you melt against him with an exhale. “I appreciate the thought and effort you went to, angel; that means more than a store bought cake ever could.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t finish it.”

“It’s not your fault. Let’s order something for dinner and while it’s on its way, I’ll clean this up while you go shower.”

“Do I smell?” You mumble against his shoulder.

“Like sadness,” he retorts with a joking edge to his sombre tone that makes you jab your fingers into his waist in scold. He yelps and contorts away from your fingers without releasing his arms from around you. “And meanness.”

“Meanness,” you repeat, scoffing a short laugh and leaning back from his shoulder to look at him.

“Yes. It’s mean to take advantage of my weak spots.”

“You do it to me all the time.”

“Yes, but you’re the nice one, my angel,” he coos, pinching your cheek before he lets you go to nudge you out of the kitchen while you try to recall just when it got so normal for Chan to call you his.

Since becoming best friends with Chan, it’s not unusual at all to return home and find him in your apartment as if he owns the place. Honestly, you genuinely think he spends more time in your apartment than his own, especially the past couple months. The couch is practically his bed at this point.

What is very unusual however, is to arrive home to find the door slightly open and hear another voice talking with Chan from inside your apartment.

“Chan?” You call in a cautious, soft voice as you nudge the door open and peer around it.

“Hi, angel, welcome home,” Chan greets, smiling at you and motioning you to join him opposite the two uniformed police officers standing and talking to him in the entrance hall.

“What’s going on, Channie?” You ask as you stand at his side and cling to his hand while remaining just a little behind him and away from the officers. They’re both taller than you and Chan, with one of them being thick with muscle and rather intimidating. Though when he smiles at you in polite greeting, most of the fear melts away.

“This is Officer Choi Seungcheol and Officer Chwe Hansol, they’re here to talk to you about Kyle,” Chan explains, motioning to each man in turn.

“Is there news on who ran him off the road?” You ask, looking at the two men with hope in your eyes and chest. It’s been over a week since the incident and there hasn’t been any more information about who put Kyle into such a devastating condition.

The last you heard, they had managed to get sight of a damaged SUV in the general vicinity from CCTV a handful of roads away, but the plates turned out to be stolen from another car across the country over a year ago and the windows were blacked out so there’s no way to tell who was driving the car. Whoever it was clearly knows the streets well enough that they escaped the CCTV quickly and the vehicle hasn’t shown up since. Nor has one matching the description been scrapped or sent to be fixed.

“That’s not our department,” the intimidating officer, Seungcheol, replies while giving you another gentle little smile. “I’m afraid we’re from the sexual crimes division, ma’am.”

“Sexual crimes?” You whisper in shock. “Wh-what?”

“We’ve received reports that Kyle has sexually harassed and stalked multiple women over the past year.”

“No, he-he wouldn’t-” you argue, shaking your head as your hands start to tremble ever so slightly, so you hold onto Chan’s hand tighter with both of yours to try and cease the shuddering movements. “You’re wrong.”

“I understand that it’s hard to hear these things about someone you thought you knew, but we have to follow up every lead we have to get all the information we need to press charges.”

“He’s in a hospital bed!” You baulk and let out an incredulous laugh. “You want to charge a man who might not even wake up? What kind of a person are you?!”

“It’s not our choice, ma’am. We’re just doing our jobs and trying to get justice for the victims.”

“I’m not having any part in this. I have nothing to say to you. He never did a thing wrong to me. Get out,” you insist, pointing to the door. “I’m not going to let you bring these accusations into my home without proof.”

“We have proof,” the other officer speaks up, earning a slightly disapproving look from his partner, but he isn’t stopped. “We saw proof ourselves; photos of women taken from outside of windows and other positions that clearly show a lack of consent. And a hidden, digital diary alluding to the acts that match up with statements we received from victims.”

“Photos?” You repeat disbelievingly.

“Yes ma’am, and I’m afraid you were in some. Based on the angle and quality, we believe the photos were taken from a roof into what we can only assume is your own bedroom.”

“My bedroom?”

“Yes ma’am. May we see your room and take photos for comparative purposes?”

“My bedroom…” You can only repeat, too in shock to do anything else as you stare dumbly at the two uniformed men in front of you.

“I think she needs a moment,” Chan says while putting his arm around you to support your gradually weakening body.

“Of course, we’ll wait right here,” Seungcheol agrees in a gentle tone and nods understandingly.

Chan carefully takes you to the living room to sit you on the couch and kneels in front of you. “Baby, breathe, come on,” he encourages softly as he holds your face. “You’re going to have a panic attack if you don’t copy me, come on.” He starts to take exaggerated breaths; big inhale, hold, slow exhale.

You blink at him unseeingly for a few of his breaths before your eyes drop to his mouth and you naturally copy the man who has helped you level your breathing more times than you can count the past year.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he praises. “A few more for me, you can do a few more for your Channie, right?” You nod so he smiles and takes a handful more deep, steadying breaths, each of which you obediently copy. “Good, well done.” He leans forward and kisses your head. “I’ll deal with the cops, okay? You just sit here and let your Channie handle it all. You just relax, angel.”

There isn’t a single part of you that wants to face the officers and their accusations again, so you simply nod and let Chan tuck a blanket around you as you curl up against the back of the sofa, before he turns on the TV just loud enough that when he goes back into the hall to talk to the two men, you can’t make out their low murmuring voices.

Throughout the remainder of the visit from the two officers, you don’t move, just sit staring blankly at the cushions in front of you as your mind whirls.

You don’t know what to believe. When Kyle had visited you that day, you really did believe him. Even now, there’s a part of you that struggles to believe the sincerity in his eyes and voice to be nothing more than a clever act to fool you. He has never laid a hand on you, never forced you to do anything or kicked up a fuss if you rejected his advances. Kyle was good.

Or maybe not.

If the police aren’t lying to you, then they have proof; more photos, even though you took the ones you found that time and burned them all, and witness accounts, or well, victim’s statements would be the correct term.

You know it’s possible to spend your entire life with a person and never truly know them, but you truly had thought that you knew Kyle. You had been so close to falling in love with him; that’s why it had hurt so much. You truly had believed that one day, you’d fall mutually in love with him, with a good man, and have a happy life together.

But all this; the accusations, the proof you had found yourself even if you still struggle to accept it at face value, it just goes to show that you never really know a person.

“They’re gone,” Chan’s voice breaks you from your thoughts. You turn your head to watch him cross the living room to sit at your side and invite himself under the blanket. He puts his left arm on the back of the couch in a silent offer that you readily accept, shuffling closer to tuck up under his arm and settle when it’s around you securely.

“Was it my room?” You ask, not really sure if you want to know the answer. But you need to.

Chan lets out a breath that sounds like a reluctant sigh. It’s almost answer enough, yet you need to hear it. “Yeah, angel, it looks like it was your room. They took photos and are going to go to the roof of the motel opposite to take a photo from there to see if it matches. I’ve given them my number to keep me updated and so they contact me if they need to, not you. I told them about the photos you found too and that you burned them so no-one else can have them.”

“Should-should I have reported him then?” You wonder, suddenly worried that you had potentially endangered women by not stepping up.

“Maybe,” he replies in a way that you just know means he thinks you should’ve, but he doesn’t want to upset you.

You curl up smaller and turn your face into his shoulder to let the familiar, soothing scent of his cologne and laundry detergent ease you.

Chan tilts his head on top of yours and holds you that bit tighter. “At least he can’t hurt anyone else anymore.”

The words are supposed to be comforting, but they don’t comfort you at all.

The news comes only a few days later.

It didn’t take long to gather evidence to support the accusations against Kyle. The warrant for his home turned up the photos and a hidden memory stick containing a written diary with documents matching dates of some of the statements, though many more entries without a woman to match to the words. The police just had to confirm the evidence and talk to some people before moving forward with it, like they did with you and Chan.

If it wasn’t for Kyle’s condition, the case would’ve been closed only two days after the police visited you, and he would’ve been sent off to prison. As it is, the man still hasn’t woken and the doctors aren’t confident that he ever will, so he can’t really be held accountable for his actions.

When Chan tells you the news, you feel bad that for the first time, you’re glad that Kyle is unconscious and likely to never wake up; at least this way, he won’t have to face the accusations which a part of you still can’t believe are true.

What you are finally letting yourself believe though, are all the times Chan called you naïve.

“Delivery for the cutest baby angel to have ever existed,” comes the greeting from behind the massive bouquet of flowers almost shoved in your face the very moment you open the front door of your apartment to see who has been insistently ringing the bell.

“That is an obscene amount of flowers,” you murmur while eyeing the bouquet.

It lowers and your best friend’s head appears as he pouts at you cutely. “Don’t you want it?”

“Gimmie,” you encourage, making grabby hands. Chan grins and hands you the bouquet, which is literally three times bigger than your head, before stepping into the apartment while you wander off, happily admiring and sniffing the multitude of flowers.

It’s not unusual for Chan to bring you flowers at all; rather, it’s unusual for your home to not have flowers gifted to you from your best friend. Even if he can’t visit you he sends you flowers at least weekly, and the ones he sends tend to always be more extravagant as if he’s making up for not giving them to you in person.

Every single bouquet is always handpicked by Chan; he always chooses which flowers to give you, not based on their colour or scent but for the meaning.

One of the things that helped you and Chan bond when you first met was your shared love of flowers and their meanings. You both know the meanings of a vast array of flowers, and he always includes yellow roses in his bouquet to symbolise your friendship.

Today is no different; there is an abundance of yellow roses in the bouquet, but there are a mixture of other flowers often in yellow themes, as it seems rather common for yellow flowers to symbolise friendship and happiness.

But sometimes there’s other colours; a little pop of pink tulips to show he cares, white carnations with a cheeky wink as he calls you baby angel, fragrant lavender to remind you of his loyalty to your friendship. Every bouquet is carefully crafted as a message; to tell you that Chan is your best friend and will always be there to love and support you.

And today, right there amongst the usual flowers, a handful of light pink roses.

You run through your mental list of flower meanings. Pink roses tend to mean grace, dark pink for gratitude and light pink has a few meanings just like many flowers. Many of the flowers Chan gives you have multiple meanings, but when put together the bouquets he gives you all mean the same thing. However, light pink roses aren’t used to symbolise friendship, innocence, or care. They mean youth, energy, passion, desire. None of those really blend with the rest of the bouquet’s meaning and it throws you for a loop.

“Did they put in the wrong flower?” You ask, pointing to the light pink roses as you look over at Chan puzzled. He walks over to peer at the bouquet and where you’re motioning, before shaking his head. “But they don’t mean friendship,” you mumble confusedly and look at the flowers again as you try to decipher their reasoning.

Chan doesn’t say a word, just leans his left hip against the counter, left palm on the surface and right hand fiddling with the unused belt loop on your jeans as he waits.

“Wait!” You turn to face him while pointing an accusing finger at him. “Is this you calling me a baby again? Light pink roses for youth?”

Chan chuckles and shakes his head, sliding two of his fingers into the loop now you’re facing one another and letting his palm settle against your hip. “No, it’s not that, though that’s a good one, I should’ve thought of that.”

“Then what?” You tilt your head a little, pouting naturally with your innocent confusion.

“You know. I know you know this one, angel,” he encourages and tugs you closer.

“Joy of life?” You offer, too used to him leading you around and being physically affectionate to really register how close he has you, or how his thumb is gradually tugging at your t-shirt where it’s tucked into your jeans.

“No.”

“Well it’s certainly not energy, you always say I lack energy. Or are you trying to like, manifest energy for me?”

“No, but once again, that’s good, I’ll make you a manifestation bouquet one day soon.”

“Then what? I’m confused, Chan.”

“Want me to tell you?” You nod in confirmation. “What if I show you?”

“What?”

He smirks a little, then pushes off of the counter and cups your jaw with his left hand. “Should I tell you, or show you, baby?” He murmurs, voice pitching low in a way that sends shivers up and down your spine. He leans in closer, brushing his nose against your cheek and nose in a teasing manner, but he doesn’t do anything more. “Well?”

It takes a few seconds for you to react; your heart is racing with anticipation, and you need to swallow a few times. He pulls back and notices your gaze slide down to his lips. “Show me,” you say in a voice so soft and shy it’s practically a whisper.

Chan doesn’t need to be told twice; he darts forward to slot his lips against yours for the first time. There’s no hesitance in his movements, no gentle teasing and dancing as he eases you into it; he kisses you passionately from the first moment, guiding your head to tilt in the perfect angle to deepen the kiss to a filthy degree when he coaxes your mouth open only seconds after his lips touch yours.

You never expected this from Chan; never imagined he’d kiss in such a manner that you feel like he’s consuming your heart and soul in the best of ways. He’s only been kissing you for a few seconds, yet your knees are weak, and you have to cling to him to keep yourself upright.

The moment your hand grips the back of his neck, Chan groans in pleased approval against your mouth and pins you roughly against the counter; his hips pressed against yours and his right hand giving up being subtle about his wants as he yanks your t-shirt out of the waistband of your jeans so that he can slide his hand underneath and run his palm against your bare skin.

Of course, a kiss that passionate can’t go on for too long, you especially need to catch your breath as you hadn’t been prepared at all for the intensity and keep forgetting to breathe as your lips and tongue move with his.

Though when you press against his chest and turn your head aside slightly to try and catch your breath, Chan doesn’t stop kissing you, he just relocates his focus, leaving a trail of hot, open mouthed kisses over your jaw and down your neck.

“Wanted you for so fucking long, angel,” he admits, voice thick with arousal and sounding unfairly in breath even if his chest is heaving too. He drags his teeth over the crook of your neck making you gasp and grip him tighter. “Driving me crazy, ‘m so hard. Can I have you? Can I take you to bed and drown in your pussy? Fuck you so hard I owe you a new bed?”

“Fuck,” you breathe out and grab a handful of his hair to drag him back up. His eyes are so hooded that you’re not certain he’s even looking at you. He looks so far gone and it does dangerous things to you. “Y-you do so much for me, Chan.”

“What?” He blinks away some of the lust dazing him to peer at you confusedly, and a little offended and the out of place comment. “What are you talking about all of a sudden? I’m trying to take you to bed, and you say that? You can just say no, not do some weird speech.”

“I’m not doing that,” you assure and move your left hand off of his shoulder, down his torso and under his oversized t-shirt to find the button of his jeans. He looks down in surprise, then back up at you with desire flooding back into his expression and eyes as you skilfully get his jeans open. Neither of you care that they immediately drop to the floor around his ankles with the jangle of his keys in his pocket, as you get your hand in his boxers. “Let me do this for you.”

“Fuck, yeah, yeah, whatever you want angel,” he approves before leaning in to seal your lips back together.

After your tryst in the kitchen, which lead to half of the bouquet getting destroyed when Chan bent you over the counter chest first into the flowers, sex is suddenly on the table for the two of you. Often literally. It seems as if that encounter opened the floodgates of a year of repressed desire from Chan and alerted you to the fact that his passion is more than just a little reciprocated.

Of course, you’ve known for a while now that you’re attracted to Chan; ever since the realisation that day in the store thanks to the leather jacket, which he is often prancing around in, especially since he’s realised how much you like him in it. Sometimes he’ll even turn up at your apartment, open the zip of his jacket and reveal that he’s wearing nothing but your marks underneath, leading to you pinning him to the closest surface to expand on the collection.

What you hadn’t known is just how deep your attraction runs. That at some point within you, the lust starts to morph and before it reaches your chest, it turns to a love which squeezes your heart a little every time he slows down to press a soft kiss to your lips, or you find him looking at you with eyes sparkling with adoration.  

You never imagined that you would fall for your best friend, yet here you are, weeks into your relationship turning sexual, and falling asleep naked in his arms more often than not while not wanting the morning to come because you know he’ll leave before you’re awake so that he can go home and get ready for work.

There’s a part of you that has, on more than one occasion, almost blurted out that he should just bring his work clothes over; you’ve already made space in the wardrobe to hang his shirts and space in the drawer for his trousers. But you don’t.

As much as you’ve come to understand and accept that the love you feel for Chan is no longer purely platonic, you aren’t ready to move on from your ex. There’s still a piece of your heart in Kyle’s hands, even if they are limp in his hospital bed and your heart should’ve been released back to you months ago.

You’ve tried to move on; you thought it would’ve happened naturally thanks to your recently developed feelings for your best friend and the regular sessions of getting fucked dumb into various surfaces by the man.

Still, Kyle remains, and you don’t understand why your heart won’t let you love Chan entirely.

You hope that Chan is happy with this; that he’s content to spend spare moments between your usual hangouts and your thighs. You don’t want to have to tell him that you’re not over Kyle; you know that Chan doesn’t like the man. Although he never voices his displeasure in you still visiting the Kyle in the hospital, you can always see it in his eyes when you leave and how he fucks you that bit harder when you return.

Hope, it seems, is still stubbornly stuck in the bottom of the box, and has no place in the real world, especially not yours.

“You have a key,” you point out flatly when you open the door having expected the takeout you’ve ordered for dinner for yourself and Chan, yet find the man himself on the other side of the door with his hands behind his back and still wearing his work clothes. “What’re you hiding? Please tell me it’s dinner; I thought you’re the delivery man you know?”

“It’s not dinner,” he chuckles, then brings his hands around to reveal this week’s bouquet. Tulips; red, yellow, and orange. Love.

“Chan…” you trail off, not sure what to say and expression downturned when you look up at him. You can practically see the moment you break his heart.

“Oh, I guess I misread this,” he smiles embarrassed and awkward, even with the pain evident in his eyes. “I thought that you might return my feelings finally, but I guess not.”

“You’re not wrong,” you confess softly. “I just…I’m not over Kyle.”

“What?” His features scrunch in bewilderment. “You’re not over the man who would be arrested for sexual harassment and stalking right now if not in a coma? Am I hearing that right?”

“I still can’t connect that to the man I knew.”

“He really fucked with your head, didn’t he?” His arms lower defeatedly.

“No, he didn’t. He was just…good to me.”

“He cheated on you, angel, he wrote about it in his diary and other women have said as much too. What’s it going to take for you to accept that and move on?”

“I-I don’t know, Chan. I’m sorry but I just can’t do that. I’ve tried to get over him, but it hasn’t happened.”

“Well…I’m not going anywhere,” he declares and steps forward to offer the bouquet. “You may not be able to love me and be with me the way I want, but I still love you, with everything in me and I’ll be here for you all the same.”

“Won’t that hurt you?”

“Baby,” he chuckles and tenderly cups your cheek in one hand, the other still holding the tulips you’ve yet to accept. “I’ve loved you since the moment I first laid my eyes on you; I’ve been by your side through all of the assholes you gave your time to, even if they didn’t deserve it. This one will pass too.”

“What if it doesn’t?”

“It will,” a flash of determination appears in his eyes as he smiles at you. “You’ll be mine soon enough, I promise you that, angel.”

At first, you had been cautious with Chan after his confession. You don’t want to hurt him and make him suffer at your side, so you pulled back on the affection and stopped the sexual aspect of your relationship entirely. Chan hadn’t been very happy and pouted at you when you turned him down the first time, but he didn’t push it and accepted it. Though he still reaches out to pull you close to hold and well, you don’t really want to quit him truthfully, so you let that happen.

After a few weeks, it’s as if the month of mind-blowing sex never happened and you and Chan are back to being nothing more than best friends. He keeps to his word and remains by your side as he always has, with no pushing or attempts to get you to reconsider and accept his love wholeheartedly.

Maybe that’s why one day when you’re laid side by side on a picnic blanket looking up at the stars with the snacks and drinks, which Chan supplied for the stargazing session, contently settling in your belly, you look at him and for the first time, you don’t feel as if your heart is missing a single piece.

“What?” Chan asks, side eyeing you amusedly when you’ve been staring at him instead of the sky for a few seconds too long. “Are you about to tell me that the stars in the sky don’t sparkle as bright as the stars in my eyes?”

“Where do you even come up with this stuff?” You laugh and nudge him playfully before sitting up. “Whoa,” you murmur when your head spins, eyes slamming closed and hands flying out to try and balance yourself.

“Angel, what’s wrong?” Chan’s hands are on you in seconds as he sits up to support you.

“M wobbly,” you slur, trying to look at him as your hands grip him tight. “Channie,” you start to panic as the dizziness doesn’t subside at all, if anything it feels like it’s getting worse as he starts to multiply before your eyes. “S-something’s wrong.”

“Shh, it’s okay, Channie’s got you, lay down angel, Channie’s got you,” he soothes, gently laying you back down on the blanket and propping himself up on his right elbow as his left hand cups your cheek. “You’ll feel better soon; just close your eyes and let your Channie look after you.”

“Chan…” You’re finding it harder and harder to move your body with every second. It feels as if your muscles are turning to sludge and bones rubber. You try to lift your arm from where it flopped to your stomach when he laid you down, yet you can’t lift it.

Chan watches the panic fill your eyes and strokes his hand over your head, then back to your cheek again. “You’re okay, my love, I’ll never let anything happen to you. Your Channie will always look after you.”

You can’t even open your mouth to respond. A choked sound leaves your parted lips as your vision starts blurring darkly around the edges.

“I will do whatever I need to, to make sure that nobody can ever hurt you again, my angel,” his voice is taking on a strange otherworldly quality, fading in and out every other syllable.

It feels as if you’re becoming one with the ground under you. It’s still hard against your back, yet it feels as if you’re melting into it, like every point of contact is rapidly ceasing to exist as you fight to keep your eyes open.

“Close your eyes, baby,” Chan’s warped voice meets you. He says something else, but a buzzing appears, overlapping his muffled words until the high pitched sound is all you can hear.

You feel something touch your forehead and brush down gently, forcing your eyes closed. You don’t have the strength to open them again.

It’s pitch black, only the ringing for company until suddenly, it leaves.

There’s barely time to register the pure silence before your consciousness melts into the ground to join the rest of you.

Everything comes back to you all at once.

Your body jerks awake as your eyes fly open. The soft, natural light around you is too bright on your sore eyes and the gentle sound of the birds outside singing their morning song pierces your sensitive ears. Instinctively, you close your eyes and lift your hands with the intention of pressing your palms to your ears to block out the noise, but something stops you from raising your hands more than a few inches.

Panicked, your eyes open and look down to find thick, padded straps around your wrists and buckled in place with a chain connecting each to the wooden frame of the bed under you. You tug, but they don’t give. You try to move your legs, but your ankles are bound in the same way; even if you don’t look at them to check, you just know you’d see the same binds there.

“Breathe,” the voice is familiar, is the one that you’re so used to listening to that you find yourself listening and taking some deep, stabilising breaths without even thinking about it. “Good girl.”

After a few seconds, you realise that Chan is in the room; the strange room where you’re cuffed to a strange bed. You have no idea where you are; the walls look wooden and it smells kind of musty, like it hasn’t been used in a while, but the familiar scent of Chan’s laundry detergent meets your nose from the soft, clean pillow under your head when you turn your head to try and find the man.

He’s sitting in a rickety old rocking chair near the closed door of the small room.

There’s nothing else in the room; no curtains on the window on the wall, which the right side of the bed is pushed against; the window is cracked open, letting in fresh air but even from where you’re laid, you can see bars on the outside. There’s a bulb hanging from the centre of the ceiling emitting a redundant, soft orange glow. And nothing else.

Just you, the bed, the chair, and the man you thought was your best friend looking at you as he gently rocks back and forth, back and forth, the chair creaking with every movement.

For tense moments, minutes maybe, you just stare at Chan in horror. This is not the man you’ve spent the past almost two years side by side with. This is not the man you had been seconds away from telling that you finally loved him with everything in you.

Your Chan is beautiful inside and out; with bright eyes always shining with mirth and adoration when they find you, and a smile that could weaken the toughest of hearts. He was love and happiness. Your love. Your happiness. You don’t know where that’s gone.

This Chan terrifies you. His face is flat, no smile, no sparkle in his eyes. He’s looking at you with an expression so dark and haunting; something similar to the way he looked when you told him that Kyle turned up at your apartment building all those months ago in the café, yet somehow so much worse.

For the first time since meeting Lee Chan, you look at him and you want to be as far away as possible, and then further. This isn’t a man you want to be near. Yet, you’re left without a choice.

“Wha-what’s going on, Chan?” You stammer.

“This is your fault, you know,” he informs matter-of-factly. “If you had just said yes to me that day, if you hadn’t held onto that fucking asshole, then this would’ve never happened. We could be at home, in bed; I could be buried deep in your pussy and filling you with cum again and again until you’re round with my baby. We could’ve been happy; had our family, gotten married,” he huffs a dry laugh and abruptly stops rocking. “We could’ve had the perfect fucking family, baby! We could’ve been perfect. But no! You had to cling to that asshole!” He gets to his feet, flinging his arms up in the air as his lips start to split into a disbelieving smile.

He doesn’t even seem to notice that you flinch and try to move further away from him as he steps closer. He seems entirely caught up in his own monologue as he starts to pace the short length of the room to your left.

“I’ve done everything I can to win you over! I studied you for fucking months before showing myself to you. Changed my hair, changed my style, even changed my fucking interests to suit your tastes!” He wheels around and stalks closer to put his right hand on the headboard above you while he stares down at you with eyes wide. “I fucking hate flowers, you know? Hate those stupid fucking things, yet I read every fucking book I could find to learn about them. Learned how to grow them from tiny little seeds all for you,” he points at you. “And what thanks do I get?” He laughs and pushes away from the bed to turn and take a few steps away. “Nothing! Okay, no, no, that’s not fair to you,” he concedes.

Chan turns to face you with his hands and features settled so suddenly into something so placating that you wonder if you had imagined the unhinged mess he was seconds ago.

“I got to taste that pretty little pussy and feel it around my cock, your mouth too. Fuck, baby, I could’ve held out longer if you hadn’t ended that but you, you little cock tease, had to give me a taste of heaven and rip it away from me.” He tuts disapprovingly and gives you an exaggerated pout. “You’ve really broken my heart, you know?”

“Th-then let me go and you never ha-have to see me again,” you try to reason, but he laughs; a full, loud, rolling laugh while leaning over with his hands on his knees as if you’ve told the best joke he’s ever heard.

“Oh, angel!” He exclaims as he straightens up, clapping his hands amusedly. “That’s good, really good. You’re so funny, baby, it’s one of the things I love most about you. You’ve always made me laugh.”

For a few seconds, he looks at you so tenderly that he looks like your Chan again; the Chan you fell in love with, the Chan you wish you had realised was a trick from the start. It makes sense that he always called you naïve when he knows from experience how easy it is to fool you.

“You’re mine now, ‘till death do us part and all that. Sorry I don’t have a ring for you, I’ve never been one for accessories.” He lifts his bare hands to wiggle them at you.

It’s only now that you realise he isn’t wearing a single piece of jewellery, something you thought wasn’t possible for your Chan. His clothes aren’t baggy and hiding his form, and hair no longer shaggy and in his eyes. He’s wearing blue jeans like usual, but these ones are straight legged and show off his thick thighs and ass; his plain white fitted t-shirt is tucked into his jeans neatly, showcasing his slim waist and strong upper body; with his hair neatly styled back in a casual, yet neat, manner. You’ve never seen him like this; he looks older this way, less playful.

It's another reminder that he’s not your Chan. He never truly was.

“I wish it didn’t come to this; you know?” He comments while walking over to sit on the edge of the bed by your waist and brush the back of his fingers over your cheek, entirely ignoring the way you flinch away from this touch, even if it is painfully tender. “You’re so beautiful; I’ve wanted you from the moment I first laid eyes on you, even if you never saw me.” He sighs dramatically and gets up to stand beside the bed. “Even back then you looked anywhere but me. It’s funny though,” he muses, pacing a little as his lips start to lift and bring back that manic smile he earlier wore.

It scares the shit out of you.

“You never once questioned your bad luck,” he quotes your own words with a mocking tone, trying not to laugh as he does so. “Or how it only appeared once I came into your life. You really are fucking naïve, baby.”

“What did you do?” You whisper, horrified at the realisation that Chan had been the reason that all of your relationships have failed.

Now that you think about it, he had always warned you away from them all for some reason; some kind of claim of a bad feeling, a rumour, seeing them kissing another woman. You never questioned how he always had something to say about every single man you showed interest in, or seemed to know things he shouldn’t really know. You put too much trust in the man from day one and now it’s come back to bite you in the ass.

“Whatever I needed to. It was all so easy too, like you wanted a reason to leave them all. I really thought it was because you wanted me,” he laughs darkly and pins an equally as dark look on you as his smile drops. “And then Kyle came along. Fucking Kyle. Perfect Kyle with his clean record and respect and giant, squishy heart. Well, it’s extra squishy now I pushed him off the road,” he laughs, eyes lighting with twisted delight.

“No,” you choke out. “You- no- you didn’t- tell me you didn’t do that to him, Chan,” you plead desperately.

Chan laughs and walks over to lean over you again, his left hand braced against the headboard and the other playing with the strands of your hair on the pillow beside your head. “If only you had believed me. If you hadn’t let him talk to you that day; if you had just kicked him out and come right to me like you were supposed to, it would’ve never happened, angel. You had me right there waiting for you and you picked that asshole and now guess what?” He looks at you with a bright, manic smile, eyes wide and shining with mirth you wish doesn’t exist. “He’s never fucking waking up, baby!” He beams, looking so proud of himself. “I made sure of that!”

You feel sick to your stomach.

It must show on your face because Chan’s own falls and he frowns at you. “Don’t look at me like that. This isn’t my fault.” He scoffs and backs up from the bed as that terrifyingly haunting look returns to his features. “I didn’t think I’d have to go this far; I thought you’d accept all those rumours and evidence I spent so much time, money, and effort planting. I bribed and blackmailed so many people the past months. Got the asshole fucking convicted and you still refuse to pick me.”

Chan sighs heavily, as if it really does pain him, before he pivots and walks to the door to open it, though he turns just enough to look back at you.

“I can’t tell if you’re too smart to believe all that or fucking stupid to still want to be by his side after all the accusations. Maybe he did brainwash your naïve little self.”

He stares at you for an unnervingly long moment as if he’s trying to figure you out and wondering what exactly Kyle did to earn your loyalty, and how exactly he can mimic it to make you his.

“Oh well,” he decides with a shrug, making you jolt at his sudden voice. “Not that it matters anymore because I’m not letting you leave here. If you’re not going to be mine on your own terms, we’re doing it my way.”

He closes the door after him, and you break with the sound of the lock clicking into place.

Tears roll down your cheeks and temples, soaking the soft pillow under your head as sobs tear from your chest. You keep tugging at the binds holding you down, yet they don’t budge.

You’re stuck here.

Even if you somehow escape your binds, there are bars on the window and a lock securing the thick wooden door.

You’re stuck here. For good.

Forever.

Stuck with the man you had trusted to look after you, to be by your side for a long time. You just never expected it to be like this. You as his prisoner; his little plaything to do with as he pleases until he gets bored of you and then… you don’t even want to think about it.

The sun slowly rises higher and higher into the sky and finally, you stop pulling at your binds, stop crying; out of energy and tears with your whole body hurting, yet nothing in comparison to the pain in your heart where it’s stomped into the wooden floorboards and covered in Chan’s footprints.

You dread the moment he returns. Dread having to live your life like this.

But you know you don’t have a choice. You’re his now, to do with as he pleases. You no longer have a choice in how your life goes.

The click of the lock disengaging sends fear racing through your tired body, adrenaline pumping, yet there’s still nothing you can do as Chan steps into the room with a tray in his hands and a smile on his face.

“Hi baby, it’s time for food! I made your favourite.”

As you watch him approach wearing that same cute smile that first drew you to him, all you can do is curse yourself for being so fucking naïve.

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[etclouie]

Congrats on the 600 followers!

Can I request a mix of these two prompts -

“Give me a kiss before you go.” “I know this is all for show, but do we really have to be so bloody domestic.”

“that’s the first time i’ve ever seen you smile.”

for derek morgan from criminal minds x stoic! reader?

Thank you.

˚୨୧⋆｡ prompt/s; 50) “Give me a kiss before you go.” “I know this is all for show, but do we really have to be so bloody domestic.” 27) “that’s the first time i’ve ever seen you smile.” — from 50 dialogue prompts and 150 prompts

˚୨୧⋆｡ warnings; stoic!reader, established relationship, just fluff really

˚୨୧⋆｡ a/n; i’d feel so safe with derek icl

— celebrate 600 with me?

Derek’s footsteps echoed in the hallway behind you, his bag slung over his shoulder as he had to put it in the trunk of his car. he paused at the front door, glancing over to you in the kitchen. your back was facing him while he set down his bag on the couch, slowly moving towards you and standing in the kitchen doorway. 

you were chopping food for dinner, attention focused on the food in front of you with the same intensity you applied to everything in your life. Derek loved that about you— how steady and calm you were in a world that often felt chaotic.

you didn’t turn to face him, but the corner of your mouth twitched upwards in acknowledgment to his presence. 

a sigh falling from your lips as you realised you didn’t have an ingredient you needed for dinner, turning to finally meet his gaze. 

your eyes meeting his and a silent acknowledgment that you needed to leave was shared. 

"give me a kiss before you go”

he murmured, a smirk tugging at his lips as he moved closer to you. his eyes softening as he watched you, before he set his hands on your hips. 

one of your hands reached behind you for a dish towel to wipe your hands before setting the towel down, crossing your arms over your chest until he pulled your arms around his neck and then resting his hands on your hips again as you mumbled out to him. 

“i know this is all for show but do we really have to be so bloody domestic?”

Derek chuckled, his hands squeezing at your hips while pulling you closer against his chest. 

he slid his hands from your hips around your body to lay on your ass, just how they always ended up. 

“you’re no fun. i’m trying to make this whole ‘normal relationship’ thing work. you’re over here acting like I’m asking for a three-course meal”

his words held their usual teasing tone, yet there was something soft behind them. 

he knew you understood that he was joking, but he never wanted to push you. never wanted to make you uncomfortable with him. 

"well, you did ask for a kiss, so" 

you started, raising an eyebrow at him while leaning in closer to him. your face inches from his and your lips grazing against his, but not enough to count as a kiss. 

"i suppose i’ll grant you that, but only because i’m hoping you’ll give me a ride to the store?”

Derek closed the gap between you and cupped your face in his large hands. you didn’t pull away how you would normally, make him chase after your lips for the kiss— in fact, you let him press his lips to yours, soft and warm and like home for a few lingering moments until you pulled back. 

it wasn’t anything too passionate; the kiss was comforting, like an anchor in the middle of a storm.

you blinked up at him, eyes as unreadable as ever. yet the corners of his lips curled into a smile, one that always made you wonder how he’d managed to wriggle his way so far into your heart. 

he leaned in to kiss you again and you smiled against his lips, a genuine smile followed by a squeal as his hands soothed across your side and his fingers ticked against your sides. 

"that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you smile like that," 

he said quietly against your lips, his voice almost teasing but with a thread of sincerity running through it. his lips brushed against yours again before he continued. 

"you’re way too stoic for your own good."

that made you frown, almost feigning offence. moving one of your hands to poke lightly at his chest before you whispered back. 

"i smile plenty, just not for the cameras”

Derek shook his head, that affectionate look on his face again. the look you fell in love with all those months ago, the same look that made your heart beat faster and full of love for him. 

his lips met yours again, the kiss somewhat deeper this time as his hands continued to hold your face. gasping as he nipped at your bottom lip before he whispered out to you. 

“i’m serious, though. the way you look at me, even when you think i’m being ridiculous, it’s like i’m the only one who gets to see that side of you. it’s different."

you pulled back from him, hands running down his chest before crossing your arms over your chest with a soft sigh. 

you rarely showed your vulnerability, but with Derek it felt so easy to let go— to open up and let your true feelings out. 

he always had this way of disarming you and breaking through the armour of stoicism you’d spent years perfecting to shield yourself. 

with him you could be yourself. 

"maybe that’s because you’re the only one who doesn’t treat me like a puzzle”

you told, eyes flicking away from him until he hooked a finger under your chin and gently guided your gaze back to him. 

the weight of the love in his eyes made a warm feeling run through your body, your chest tightening in that familiar way again. 

he always knew exactly what you needed, even when you didn’t know yourself.

“maybe” 

he murmured with a shrug, taking a step closer again until he was in your space. his lips pressing to yours making you smile again, his forehead against yours as he continued on. 

“but i’m good with puzzles, especially when it’s you”

⋆˚࿔ reblogs are highly appreciated 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

[absfawn]

abby loves light taps. or even light slaps. there’s something about seeing you on your knees, between her wide legs, with your lips wrapped around her strap, strings of spit running down your chin, cheeks hallowed, and her brain always feels fuzzy when her fingers graze your face, only to send a light tap to the side of your cheek, encouraging you to go faster. for a few seconds her blue eyes widen when you’re gagging, worried she’s overstepped, done something you weren’t keen on doing, but when you whimper around her cock, she smirks before tutting and doing it again. “dirty slut, use that pretty mouth of yours and maybe i’ll slap you more, hm?”

or when she’s got you underneath her in her bed, limbs feeling like jelly, hands gripping any inch of her you can grab onto, while one of hers holds your hip,  grip that is sure to leave bruises tomorrow, the other holds your leg over her shoulder and she’s grinding her hips into yours at such a brutal yet delicious pace that has your back arching and toes curling. the sounds tumble from your mouth shamelessly. you’re on cloud nine, abby is too, and she can’t stop the shit eating grin that appears on her face when you’re tapping at the hand she’s got on your hip. “what, baby?” abby rasped out, voice strained and rough.

“need it.” was all you could whine.

“need me to give you a slap, huh? s’that what you want, pretty girl?” she taunted, looking down at you with that devious smirk on her lips. you didn’t offer her a response, just nodded deliriously beneath her, closing your eyes and gasping at each of her thrusts, not caring how loud you were being. “s’not how you ask. ask me.”

your eyes fluttered open at her words, and you whined softly under your breath. nails sinking into the skin on her arm, ignoring the small hiss she lets out. you were too in your own world, the pleasure your girlfriend was giving you had you falling deeper and deeper. “please,” you choked out, “want it.”

realizing you weren’t even focused on her words, abby removed her hand from your hip, ignoring the grunted whine slipping past your lips once she did so, she leaned down more and over you. her eyes trailing over your perky pebbled nipples before reaching up and gripping your chin between her fingers, prodding your lips with her thumb gently, but tutting when you go to wrap your lips around it. “s’not what you want this time, you can have them in your mouth next time.” abby promised, and she growls at the elicit whimper that rips through your throat when her hand slaps lightly at your cheek. wishing she could feel the way your cunt clenches around her cock. “you’re so dirty, hm?” she scoffs, rubbing the skin with her fingers to soothe the sting. “just a dirty little slut.”

“more.”

your eyes were wide as you looked up at her with a lazy smile on your lips, you had caught her off guard for a couple of seconds, not knowing just how much you enjoyed it when she gave you slaps or even the light taps on your cheek. she doesn’t even to do it sexually, but sometimes she gives your cheek a soft pat after she gives you a kiss before she leaves, and doesn’t notice your soft eyes, or feel the way your skin heats up at the action. 

the second slap she gives your cheek is a little harder, but the blood rushes to your head, your skull feels fuzzy, and a choked-out moan falls between your swollen lips. abby simply can’t help but laugh at your rection before pressing a gentle kiss to the skin of your cheek, soothing it as carefully as she could. “you truly are so fucking dirty, my dirty girl. gonna let me do it a few more times before i let you cum?”

how could you say no to that?

[doll-face222]

Had this idea about Rafe’s best friend! Reader who hasn’t been with anyone in like a year and is getting really worked up. Maybe she had a terrible week and there was a last straw and she’s yelling and yanking on her hair and throwing things and Rafe is kind of realizing she just needs to be totally dominated and taken care of so he does

rafe x bsf!reader

a/n: i totally love that idea anon !! first time writing ever i just didnt want to let sweet nonnie down, so apologies if its not that good !

cw: smut, swearing, drool.

rafe knew you haven’t had a hookup in ages. you would vaguely mention it, when it would be just the two of you in either one’s rooms. if he was being honest, he pitied you. he even wanted to be the one to help you…

you were pissed off the whole week. maybe it was your hormones, with the way you would get annoyed at everything.

whether it be traffic making you late to events, or people at the country club being rude, steam was coming out of your ears.

you were like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode anytime now. good thing your bestfriend kept you grounded whenever you were feeling overstimulated.

so there you were, in your room getting ready for dinner with your family and the camerons. rafe on your bed scrolling on his phone, patiently waiting for you.

you were quiet while doing your makeup on your vanity table, not your usual chatty self. normally you would go on and on about anything and everything under the sun, yapping for hours on end.

rafe knew something was up.

“something wrong bunny?” he asked, using the nickname he gave you referring to the time you dressed up as a bunny for halloween when you two were little.

“no,” you replied with a pout, voice barely above a whisper.

rafe knew better than to push you, so he just sighed and kept quiet.

a few moments have passed, and rafe hears a soft ‘oh fuck’, a thud, and heavy breathing from your vanity. he looks up from his phone and sees your head down, soft sobs coming from the table.

when he got up to come closer, you shot up. screaming, crying, wailing even. rafe could see your problem now: you smudged your mascara. you started yanking out your hair curlers, figuring they were useless if your makeup was ruined anyway.

“woah woah- hey bun!” he yelled, pulling you by your waist. he placed you on your bed, rubbing up and down your arms to soothe you.

rafe guided you gently so you were laying your head on your pillows. he was in between your legs, arms caging your frame.

“shh calm down baby,” he whispered, wiping your mascara stained eyes with his thumbs.

he petted your hair, large hands slowly making their way to your cheeks.

“i’m here, i’m here.” he cooed as your cries hushed, turning into soft hiccups.

in this position he could feel you wet through your bloomers. he looked at your eyes as if to ask for permission silently, before he cupped your mound through the frilly fabric.

“what d’you need bunny?”

“need you rafey,” you whined. he carefully pulled down your bloomers, a string of slick connecting your pussy to the fabric.

rafe grew hard at the sight, taking his thumb to run across your slit. his other thumb trailing to play with your nipples through your top.

you mewl at the simultaneous sensations, given you haven’t experienced them in a long while. he took that as a sign to circle your clit, causing your eyes to shut and your legs to close, only to be blocked by rafe’s broad figure.

he then plunged two fingers in and out of you, thick digits stretching your tight hole. rafe’s hand that was previously playing with your tits find their way to your mouth, muffling your lewd moans.

“let’s be quiet bunny. your parents might be downstairs” he shushed, deep voice making your pussy clamp down on his fingers.

fingers curling up to hit your sweet spot, rafe could feel you getting close.

“you can cum baby, go ‘head,” he signals, feeling you gush all over his hand. eyes rolling to the back of your head, you felt euphoria rush through you.

as you rode out your high, rafe removes his hand from your mouth, drool dripping from your mouth and his hand.

“sorry,” you squeaked. he didn’t mind anyway, just happy you probably had your first orgasm not from your own fingers in months.

it never occured to you that this was an option, to be touched by your own bestfriend. this wouldn’t be the last time it happens, you could tell.

“thank you rafey.” you smiled weakly at him, looking through your lashes. he didn’t say anything, just kissed your forehead.

“are we late to dinner?” you asked, suddenly remembering why you were getting ready.

“i drive fast, we’ll make it,” he smirks, grabbing your small hand to cup the bulge through his pants.

dinner could wait.

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated !! love, scarlet.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ LUCKY — GOJO SATORU.

contents. baths + non sexual nudity, established relationships, tired toru :(, lots of kissies and praise for the babie :(, solid proof in the form of writing of how embarrassingly lovesick i am for this FOOL

it’s past midnight when satoru walks into your bathroom. he doesn’t even question why you’re in the bath so late—just gives you a lopsided grin tiredly as you smile.

“you’re home,” you brighten.

“look at you,” he coos, staring down at you with amused eyes, “waitin’ for me?”

satoru is tired—you can tell from the way the his shoulders are slouched and his blindfold is clutched in his hand. “i was,” you hum in agreement, “c’mere.”

it’s all it takes. he’s stripped down and waiting for you to move up so he can slide behind you in seconds, hand waving to motion you forward. but you’re stubborn—you shake your head as you hold an arm out for him.

“baby,” he whines, “c’mon i was out fighting big bad curses all day. jus’ lemme hold—”

“no. just come here, toru,” you insist.

there’s something about it—something about the way your voice is so gentle, so insistent, so knowing. it’s like you can read him more than he can, sometimes. satoru is tired, you can see it, you can feel it. you can’t carry his burdens, but you can hold him while he holds the weight of the world for a night.

maybe it’ll do for now—maybe it’ll even be enough and more.

“what? feelin’ like pampering me today?” he teases, “aren’t i a lucky guy,” he hums—but he climbs into the tub anyway, settling between your legs, leaning his back against your chest as his head falls back against your shoulder.

instantly, two gentle kisses plant themselves against his head, and his eyes flutter shut. he’s starting to feel the beginnings of a headache form—the gentle thump in his skull just barely there, but persistently present.

your thumbs rubs along the sides of his head, enough pressure to soothe the pain like you know it’s coming—he thinks you must.

“you are a lucky guy,” you giggle, “look at me. such a catch.”

he grins, chuckling that boyish chuckle of his freely in your arms as he relaxes. it’s been a while since he’s relaxed, you think—it’s half past midnight and he’ll be up with the sun in a bit to head back to the school, but it’s nice to know he’s relaxed. even just for this short, rare moment.

“oh yeah,” he nods, lips curled into a grin as he cracks an eye open and peers up at you, “s no catch like my pretty ‘lil baby. i’m living it up.”

“glad you know your privileges,” you murmur contently, shaking your head in amusement as you wrap your arms around his body. one hand rubs over his abs—he wants to tease you about feeling him up, wants to make a sly comment about missing his body more than him while he was gone. but there’s something about it, about the way it’s so slow and soothing and soft—it’s so painfully soft, satoru swallows.

finally, he lets his body go slack against yours, sliding down so his head rests against your chest and the water soaks more of his body. it’s warm. the water and your arms. it’s all so, so warm and forgiving.

“aren’t you gonna tell me how lucky you are too? i’ll listen, don’t worry. no interruptions.”

“yeah?” you chuckle, threading fingers through his hair and pulling a soft sigh from him, “wanna know how lucky i am?”

“course,” he murmurs, “well, i already know you’re lucky. it’s me after all—but i’m not opposed to hearing it.”

“how humble of you, satoru,” you snort.

he grins wider—he hasn’t had a chance to smile all day. not properly, at least.

“feel free to start any second,” he says with a wink. then his eyes flutter shut again as your thumb traces his cheek, ever so gently running along the soft angles of his face.

it’s pretty—everything about him is pretty. there are no ugly parts to satoru. just the parts painted from cruel hands. they’re beautiful too, you like to think, in their own, fragile little ways.

“okay,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his head, “i’m very lucky,” you murmur into his hair.

he hums, mumbling a quiet, “knew it.”

“lucky i have such a handsome face to greet,” you pepper kisses along his forehead and find his cheek, giving it an affectionate little bite that makes him huff out an amused chuckle. “and he’s so tall too,” you add, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“that all he is?” he pouts, “just a pretty face? you’re breaking my heart, baby.”

“no,” you say quietly, grabbing his hand and brushing a thumb over his knuckles, “he’s also kind. too kind, sometimes,” you say quietly, “he comes home a bit later than usual every once in a while because he took his students out to eat. he loves them a bit too much, i think.”

“no such thing as too much love,” he hums, squeezing your hand.

you smile, admiring him as he lays against you, small in your hold even with the larger than life weight he carries.

“and he’s strong,” you add, “really strong. it’s not fair sometimes,” you whisper, “he’s got so much on his plate.”

“he handles it fine,” he assures, “he always does.”

“and then he still makes time for little old me,” you say fondly, kissing his shoulder, “never lets me feel lonely. he’s too good to me.”

“there’s no such thing as too good for you,” he gasps offendedly, pouting like you’ve insulted him, “he’s definitely not—”

“and sometimes, he comes home tired. and he tries to act like he’s not because he’s a bit of a prick who doesn’t let me help, but i’m smart and i know him well so i’ve figured it out. and if i’m extra lucky, i might get to hold him for a bit like this and help him relax.”

you squeeze him gently for emphasis, holding him closer as you press your nose into his neck and breathe in his smell. it’s like cologne that’s rudely expensive and that sweet smell only satoru has—it’s all you want to breathe in for the rest of your days.

you hope he’ll allow you that much. something tells you he will.

satoru swallows thickly at that, rubs a thumb over your bare thigh as he rests his free hand over it, the other still in your grasp.

and then, quietly, “maybe he’s fine just coming home to you,” he shrugs, “who can stay tired with such a sweet face waiting at home?”

“i don’t know,” you say thoughtfully, “he’s got a lot to take care of. wonder how he does it.”

“he’s probably the strongest,” he shoots with an easy grin, “sounds like the strongest to me.”

“he is,” you nod, “he’s a lot more than that too. i’m lucky he’s mine.”

“oh yeah?” he drawls—there’s something a little shaky about his voice though.

you choose not to mention it, pressing soft, delicate kisses along his jaw as you murmur, “yeah. he makes me feel really, really lucky. love him so much.”

“love you too,” satoru breathes, “guess we’re both really, really lucky.”

don’t talk to me i don’t want to be perceived. that’s enough softness for a lifetime so the next time i write him he’s getting hit by a bus

[artinvain]

abby being fucking mean w it (toxic!bff!abby) who is also a dealer+ slapping, spit, dumbification, degradation, dacryphilia, squirting. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: abby’s used to the usual “you up?” text from you because even though she prayed about it every night, it usually meant nothing more than getting high and watching some film or tv show you’ve seen a million times before. but tonight, when she walks into your apartment something feels different.

“hi abs,” you coo from the couch where you’re wearing nothing but her hoodie and skimpy little shorts she can hardly see and all the blood drains from her head. abby gulps and tries to compose herself, says nothing when your nipples are hard and poking through the sweatshirt.

she can only hand you her dab pen and sit beside you. her thighs threatening to twist and rub together to soothe the growing ache between her them. she tries to ignore the fact that you smell freshly showered. your scent lathering her in rose and cocoa butter and she wants to smell your skin, lick up your neck and feel you up under her hoodie, see how soft you really are.

“what’s wrong?” you ask, your eyes glossy when you look over to your best friend. she hasn’t said a word for an entire episode. she’s been stroking up and down your legs absentmindedly, biting her lip. “nothing I just -“ she sighs, “why are you dressed like that?”

“like what?” you ask, although you’re not confused. you know it’s wrong to tease her like this, but you weren’t leading her on —

“why are you dressed like a fucking slut?” abby groans, finally turning to look at you, her glare making you shrink into yourself, your shorts dampening. the way she’s looking at you, like she’d tear you apart, her nose scrunched and her mouth curled in a snarl; it makes your face hot, your breathing picks up. “I - I don’t know, I wanted to be comfortable-“

“don’t fucking lie to me right now,” abby interrupts, parting your legs and kneeling between them, “I wanted your attention,” you whine finally acquiescing to her glare and placing your hands gingerly over hers on your thighs. “I want you abby,” you say breathless before she’s even done anything.

“want me how?” abby prompts and you guide her hand up your inner thigh to rest on your pussy, she sighs at the feeling of you over your tiny sleep shorts she can feel the soft hair on your mound some of her fingers graze your lips,

“not wearing any fucking panties?” she pants, leaning over you, nosing your neck and placing kisses there “you’re a greedy fucking bitch you know that?” you whimper softly and abby chuckles, “want me as your best friend — want me to listen about all those shitty dates I tell you not to go on,” she lets her fingers circle your clit softly, places a kiss on the side of your mouth,

“don’t want me going out on runs just to spend the day with you, even though you know it’s my fucking job,” she huffs, letting herself feel your wetness and groaning against your lips. you can’t help but cup her neck and bring her down to kiss you, taste that sweet tongue she shoves into your mouth and moan as you suck on it.

“I told you,” abby whispers against your lips “that I’m all you need but you’re too fucking stupid to see that,”

you whimper, trying to reach up for her lips but she pulls back to look at you, dazed and dewy — your pretty mouth in a pout. “m’sorry abs, i’ll —“ you don’t know what to say, abby’s never been so forthright with her command over you. “please I need you,”

“I know you do, silly, but how bad?” she asks, lazily working your wet clit, pulling your shorts to the side to dip her fingers lower to your wet, clenching cunt. “tell me how much you need me,” she brushes her nose against yours softly, dipping her fingers in as your mouth parts to speak.

“need you abby, I’ve always —fuck — always needed you,” your voice cracking as abby sinks her fingers home and curls them. abby huffs a moan as she scissors her fingers inside you, stretching you out and feeling your gummy walls wet and tighten around her.

“I know baby, and now you have me, gonna give this stupid little pussy what she needs,” she grunts, bucking her hips with her fingers, fucking in and out of you. “shit, gotta punish you for denying me of this,” she cups your cheek softly before slapping you lightly, loving the gasp you make, the shock in your eyes that melts quickly into lust when she does it again.

“s’okay though, gonna give it to you every fucking day,” abby says rubbing your clit with her thumb and adding another finger, “make sure I fuck you dumber than you already are,”

“abby, fuck too much,” you whine, squirming and still bucking your hips up into her hand for more -

“oh shut up,” she groans at the feeling you you trying to meet her thrusts “look at you, don’t even know what you fucking want,” she chuckles, “shut the fuck up, so I can give you what you need,” abby puckers your cheeks, spitting into your open mouth and sinking three of her fingers into it so you’re almost gagging on her. “perfect,” abby sighs, the feeling of filling you full making her hips twitch against you, her fingers inside you faltering if only for a second, “look so pretty all off of me,” she moans, the back of her palm rubbing against her clit so nicely she has to moan with you as she bucks and snaps her hips against you.

“should have just given it to you long ago,” abby whispers into your ear, “always knew you just wanted to be my cum-drunk slut,” she sinks the fingers in your mouth deeper just to hear you gag around them and whimpers when she curls her fingers inside your pussy, rubbing your gspot and not letting up, her thumb rubbing on your clit.

“you’re so fucking stupid though,” she cooes, “aren’t you? couldn’t even tell me what you wanted,” you shake your head rapidly and abby slows down.

“no? you’re not stupid?” abby removes her fingers from your mouth and puckers your cheeks, slapping it before presses a kiss to your mouth for every hard thrust she gives you, fucking the words out of you, “use your words then, tell me how good it feels — prove your not just a dumb fucking slut,”

but you can’t, fuck, not with the way her fingers are spearing into you, the way she’s curling them and rubbing your gspot so deliciously, you try to speak and all that falls from your mouth is “abs-baby please ungh fuck fuck oh god!”

the blonde uses her free hand, cascades it down your chest to press on your lower belly “see? you’re just a brainless doll, meant for me to fuck.” you’re seeing hot white like the pleasure curling outward from your belly, “come on be dumb, and feel so good and cum for me yeah?” abby sighs as you mewl, your thighs tightening around her, your nails clawing at her arms and leaving red lines behind. “aw that’s right baby, mark me up, let em know I’m yours,” she’s so fucking happy she finally has you. “m’gon- please wanna cum!” abby nods her bottom lip between her teeth and your whole body tightens, your toes curling and your back arching as you cum, gasping — tears falling from your eyes.

“shit shit, need ta fill you with my cock — fuck my sweet stupid girl”

you half think she’s joking, you think she’ll come back with a cloth and kisses and instead she’s handling you onto your belly, pulling your hips up and sliding her strap into you. and overstimulated as you are, you can’t help but back up into her,

“god, yeah, fuck yourself on my dick baby — shit you look so good doing your job, finally getting something right,” abby spreads your ass to see her strap going in and out of you, “fucking hell - that’s all you’re good for huh? drooling over me,” and this time you don’t disagree, too focused on the way she grinds her hips and humps you, her little sighs and moans and the shock when she smacks your ass.

abby steadies her hands on your hips and grunts as she holds you still, fucking into you. she’s bucking her hips so hard, filling you to the brim, her strap stretching you out until you’re whining and grabbing at pillows, trying to squirm out of her grip.

“nuh-uh, take it,” abby groans, pressing down between your shoulders to immobilise you, and grinning when you start to wail, tears springing from your eyes as you moan “yeah take my dick,” abby says, folding your arms behind your back and gripping them for leverage.

“you need this honey, need me to make you whole, get you dumb for the right reasons,” abby groans at the feeling of the strap rubbing against her overstimulated clit, she couldn’t help herself from cumming to the sound of your moans, the excitement of finally getting to fuck you overwhelmed her.

“tell me baby, tell me you need me,” she snarls, bucking her hips, she’s moaning like she can feel you, the way your clenching down on her, sucking her in.

“need you abby , need you need you so fuck! m’so stupid for you — ah!” you’re yelling when abby reaches down to rub your clit, “good girl, been such a good girl f’me,” she groans, grinding and shallowly thrusting into your gspot. “come on good girl, one more for me,” she moans and is in absolute awe when she feels you squirting into her hand and all over your couch.

Tags 🏷️ @lesbian-useless @sexysapphicshopowner @iamaboringrattat @sapphicsgirl @bimboprincezz

[frannyzooey]

Sun Drenched

Marcus Acacius x f!reader

Rating: E

a/n: a little something I wrote after the premiere of the trailer — enjoy while I work on some other things! ❤️

—

Marcus’s fingers drum on the table, his eyes drifting over the wood. His gaze is unfocused, every color and fine line blending together, his mind distant from the talk of battle around the room. 

The whorls remind him of your curves, the ones he left draped in his sheets. 

The slow rise and fall of your breathing, your bare chest on display. He plays with the curve of your breast, reveling in the petal soft skin: fingertips circling your peaked nipple, his thumb skating over the plump weight. Bending to give it a kiss, the skin feels like velvet under his lips. A butterfly’s wings, delicate and achingly soft. 

Your fingers run through his curls on a soothing loop, his scruffed cheek resting over your heart. His touch dancing along the inside of your thigh, the bend of your knee, the sloped indent of your waist. 

Sated and spent, every sense satisfied. 

Touch, taste, smell, all nourished for the time being. 

You hum, and he listens, closing his eyes. 

“General Acacius?”

His name brings him back to the present, a table of men staring at him. 

“Hm?”

Some chuckle, some barely hide their impatience. 

“Looks like his mind is elsewhere.”

“Between his lover’s legs, more like.”

“Can you blame the man? He’s been away for almost a year.”

His smile is tired, but good natured. He holds his hand up, silencing their comments.  

“My apologies. Please, continue.”

They do, Marcus trying his hardest to focus on the plans they have laid before him, the training suggestions, the maps. Everything plotted, everyone with an opinion to voice. They fight across the table; old men and young.

“Do you have to go?”

He turns, thumbing at a mark you’ve left on his bare chest while riding him this morning. 

“I can’t neglect my duty to Rome,” he says, drinking deeply from a cup of wine. 

“And what about your duty to me?” you tease, pulling your naked leg out from under the sheets. Your hand drifts down along the inside of your thigh, and he stops his search for a tunic, watching. You skim it higher, and then higher still and his eyes darken when you slip it under the sheets between your legs, just out of sight. 

“I think I’ve more than satisfied that,” he replies, abandoning his search for clothing. Climbing up onto the bed to join you, he takes your ankle in his hand, bringing it to his mouth for a kiss. His lips drift higher, his grin pressing into your leg at the giggle you let out when he tugs the sheet from your body. 

Settling heavy and warm on top of you, his mouth immediately seeks your own. 

His voice is heard above the rest in the end. Plans settled for the day, he stands from the table, rubbing at the stiffness in his lower back from years spent in the training yard, sitting in a saddle, sleeping on the ground. The men shake his hand one at a time as they file out of the room, and he follows, walking out into the courtyard. 

The sun shines down on his face, and he tilts it upwards, soaking in all he can before he’s summoned again. A council with the emperors is next, the future of Rome to be decided. More old men sitting around on their pompous asses to decide the fates of both himself, and the men that fight beside him. 

Passing the training yard, the men shout their greetings to him as he passes. He molded so many of them, took them from their cradles into manhood, taught them how to be worthy of protecting one of the greatest cities in the world.  He pauses, watching, the clang of swords melting into the background. 

You buck underneath him, your bare skin flush with his own, your hands splayed across his chest with a shove. As hard as you can, you try to budge him, and he grins above you. 

“You can do better than that, my love,” he teases. Still, he lets up a fraction and you use your weight to roll him onto his back, your thighs straddling his hips. Your breasts bounce with the movement, and his mouth waters. 

“It’s not fair,” you complain, slightly breathless, your pretty pout making him thicken underneath you. “You’re so much stronger than me.” A mischievous glint dances in your eyes. “Maybe I should wander down to the training yard. See if grappling with those men makes me any better.”

Your fingers entwine with his, and he takes advantage of your momentary distraction to let you catch your breath – and then he lunges. Sitting up with a cinch, he pins your hands behind your back and tips you backwards into the bedding, trapping your arms. You laugh and fight back, trying hard to ignore the stiff weight of his cock as it brushes between your legs. 

“Why, when you have the best one in your bed already?”

You try to dodge him, rolling to the side to see if you can escape the bed, and he snatches you back into place, his strong arm banding across your stomach. Faster than you can react, he’s pinned you face down into the sheets, and his knees force your legs open, his hand wrapping firmly around your plush hips to jerk them up. 

Breathless and hard won, he lines up and shoves himself forward, fucking his victory into you.  

Stuck longer than he would have liked in councils this afternoon, he feared they would turn into a dinner invitation. The emperors were fond of drawn out, elaborate affairs, tables of food and wine, pleasantries exchanged with the secret intents hidden beneath smiles. 

He walks with a purposeful stride and a stern expression, one he’s practiced among the years. It’s a commanding gait he hopes will deter anyone from stopping him for an idle chat. He’s had enough of Rome’s business for today. 

“General Acacius.”

A guard greets him as he passes, the man snapping into a rigid stance.

“Is she in there?” Marcus asks. 

“She hasn’t left all day, sir. Just like you asked.”

Marcus nods, rounding the corner to his private chambers. Opening the door, he’s greeted with silence. 

It’s a peaceful silence, the room drenched in the sunlight of the late afternoon, the lingering smell of the rich oil you use on your skin in the air, the curtains to his balcony billowing in the breeze. It’s there where he finds you, fast asleep on a chaise. A book open and laid flat across your chest, he admires the softness of your profile for a moment. 

Long lashes, plump lips, beautiful, soft skin – and completely naked, underneath your thin robe. 

He carefully takes a seat and you stir at the shadow that overtakes you, giving him a gentle, lazy smile in greeting. 

“You’re back.”

“Finally,” he says, lifting the book from your chest. He gives it a glance, flipping through the pages for a moment before setting it down. “Is this how you spent the day?” he teases warmly. “Lazing in the sun?”

You roll onto your side, your robe sliding open with the movement. His eyes drop to the exposed juncture between your thighs before slowly drifting upwards: the soft curve of your belly peeking through the folds of fabric, the plane of your chest awash in sunlight. Your skin looks freshly oiled and warm, and he longs to press his face against it. 

Instead, he leans in for a kiss. 

“You told me not to leave, sir.” You murmur the words against his lips, your hand slipping over the curve of his bare thigh, sliding up underneath the hem of his tunic. “So I didn’t.”

He hums, pulling back with a lick of his lips. His eyes make a hooded, dark circuit down your naked body only to slowly crawl back up. 

“Did you have a good day, my pet?”

The endearment is one that he knows you like, the implication that you exist only for his leisure and pleasure. If only you knew it was actually the other way around, that you held the leash of the world’s most feared general. 

“I did. I’d hoped you’d join me for dinner,” you smile, bringing his attention back to your face. 

“And what’s for dinner?” he asks, his voice dropping into a low, raspy tone. His hand slides up the inside of your thigh, cupping you wholly between your legs. “This?”

His fingers press against your damp curls, searching, exploring. His hold tightens, and you suck in a breath before melting into the chaise. 

“If you wish,” you sigh, letting your legs fall open. 

He does. He’s been waiting all day to settle between your plush thighs, to be wrapped in the warm embrace of your body. So much softness, after a life spent so hard. The way he stirs for you makes him feel like a young man again; it’s constant, his wanting. He shifts to his knees, the stone digging into his skin. 

The sun catches the chestnut hidden in his curls when he bends for a taste of your sweet cunt, and you brush through the soft locks, twirling them around your finger. Every lap of his tongue makes you lazy and warm with arousal, until his nicked hand splays across the inside of your thigh to open you wider – and then the heat that he’s been stoking turns into a bright flame, his tongue flicking faster and faster. 

“Marcus,” you moan, your thighs tensing around his scruffed cheeks. 

With a suck, he pushes you over the edge. And when he pulls back, another flame licks hot through you at the sight of his glistening chin. 

Status and wealth, lands and glory. Respected and feared, a place of honor in the Roman Empire. 

All of it at your feet, lapping at your cunt. 

He stands, stripping himself of his tunic, his sandals. Your own robe discarded on the ground, he kneels on the chaise and the body that he’s molded over the years both in the training yard and in battle is bare and firm, your fingers stretching out to brush through the dark hair that collects beneath his navel. His stomach is a soft curve, his cock heavy between his thighs, and you drift your touch down, wrapping your hold around it and giving it a tug. Hard and aching just for you, he groans as you explore the velvet skin, the sound rumbling from deep within his chest. 

Stopping, you pull him down to join you and he lines up, pushing himself inside. 

He fucks like he’ll never be able to stop. 

Like he didn’t know if he’d ever have the chance again. 

Like every push inside is a claim, like every kiss is a mark he’s branding on your skin. 

The silver at his temples and that dusts the corners of his jaw are indicators of his age, and he fucks with the same experience it would imply. 

He fucks like he fights; ruthless and hard. With his hand wrapped around the curve of your shoulder, to keep you underneath him. With your leg hitched high over his hip to force himself deeper.

He’s insatiable; your cunt sore, and yet begging for more. 

Sweat slicks across his back, the sun of the fading day beating down upon it. He sits back on his heels, and brings you with him, and then you’re both drenched in the light. Your arms wound tight around his broad shoulders, his arms keeping you in place on his lap. 

His mouth lingers against your own, labored breathing passed between the two of you and he fucks until you cry out his name into the sky, your own on his lips shortly after. 

Then he lays with you, entwined, until dusk dims the sky. 

The warm breeze skims across your flushed skin, and he stands, walking back into his room. 

Admiring his bare ass and strong back, you watch him call to a guard for dinner – and then close your eyes, stretching with content.

[thesecondhandwoman]

SINK INTO ME

Sevika x f!reader

Summary: After a long tiring day for Sevika, you had convinced her to relax by taking a bubble bath with you. In the process, you planned on nurturing your girlfriend with love, sharing a close moment that showed just how much you loved eachother.

The cramped apartment was quiet, save for the faint sound of water filling the old, clawfoot tub. Steam curled around the edges of the small bathroom, fogging the mirror and wrapping the room in a cocoon of warmth. The hum of Zaun outside was a distant buzz, locked away behind bolted windows and rusted walls. Tonight, none of that mattered. Tonight, it was just you and Sevika.

“Remind me again why we’re doing this,” Sevika muttered, her gravelly voice softened by exhaustion as she sat on the edge of the tub. Her metal arm rested on her thigh, the usual tension in her shoulders slightly eased by the promise of what was to come.

You smiled, kneeling beside her as you tested the water temperature. “Because you’ve been carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, and if I leave you alone, you’ll work yourself into an early grave.” You tilted your head, your voice turning teasing. “Also, because you love me and can’t say no when I ask nicely.”

A low chuckle rumbled from her chest, and she smirked at you, the edges of her mouth tugging up in that familiar, lopsided way. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I’m lucky for a lot of things,” you shot back, standing to your feet and placing a hand on her broad shoulder. “Come on. In the tub.”

Sevika sighed, muttering something under her breath about your persistence, but she obeyed. She stood, her towering frame moving with the slow, deliberate ease of someone nursing old injuries, and began peeling off her clothes.

You couldn’t help but watch, admiring the way her muscles flexed beneath her scarred skin. Despite her gruff exterior, Sevika always moved with a natural grace, even when she was tired.

Once she was undressed, she stepped into the tub, settling into the water with a contented groan as the heat soothed her sore muscles. She leaned her head back against the rim, eyes fluttering shut. “Alright, your turn,” she murmured without opening her eyes. “Get in here before the water gets cold.”

You slipped off your clothes and climbed in carefully, letting the warm water envelop you as you straddled Sevika’s lap. Her strong hands instinctively found your hips, steadying you as you settled against her.

“You’re like a little furnace,” you teased, tracing a finger along the lines of her shoulder.

She huffed a laugh, opening one eye to glance at you. “And you’re the one who wanted to do this. So, what now?”

“Now,” you said softly, reaching for one of the bottles of soap you’d brought, “I take care of you.”

You worked slowly, deliberately, lathering the fragrant soap in your hands before smoothing it over Sevika’s skin. Her shoulders were broad beneath your palms, taut with tension that she refused to acknowledge. You kneaded gently, fingers working over knots as you whispered soothing words.

“Relax, Sev,” you murmured, leaning in to press a featherlight kiss to her jaw. “You deserve this.”

Her hands gripped your thighs lightly under the water, her touch a grounding presence. “It’s hard to relax when you’re this close,” she muttered, though there was no bite in her words.

You chuckled, running your soapy hands along her arms, careful as you worked around the intricate mechanics of her prosthetic. “That sounds like a you problem,” you teased, leaning back to grab the small bucket you’d brought. “Tilt your head back for me.”

She obeyed, tilting her head back and exposing her neck as you poured warm water over her hair. Her dark, wet strands clung to her skin once she had permission to tilt her head forward, and you couldn’t help but run your fingers through them, marveling at how soft they were when free of the grime and sweat of the day.

You massaged her scalp with careful precision, your nails scratching gently as you worked in more soap. Sevika let out a low hum, the sound reverberating through her chest. “I could get used to this,” she murmured, her voice thick with contentment.

“You’d better,” you replied, rinsing her hair with another pour of warm water. “Because I plan on doing this as often as you let me.”

She chuckled softly, tilting her head back to look up at you. Her steel-gray eyes were softer now, the usual guardedness replaced by something warmer, more vulnerable. “You’re too good to me, you know that?”

You smiled, leaning down to brush a wet kiss against her lips. “Someone has to be.”

You took your time, cleaning every inch of her with a tenderness that made Sevika’s chest ache. She wasn’t used to this—to someone touching her without expectation, to someone giving without taking. But you did it effortlessly, your hands moving with a care that made her feel seen in a way she rarely allowed herself to be.

When you were finished, you sat back on her lap, your fingers tracing idle patterns over her chest. Her hands rested on your waist, her thumb brushing small circles against your skin.

“You alright?” you asked softly, tilting your head to meet her gaze.

She nodded, her lips tugging into a faint smile. “Better than alright.”

You smiled back, leaning in to kiss her again—deeper this time, your lips lingering against hers. The warmth of the water and the softness of the moment made everything else fade away, until it was just the two of you.

By the time you’d both climbed out of the tub, the bathroom was a humid haze. You grabbed a towel and began drying Sevika off, your touch gentle as you ran the fabric over her arms and shoulders.

“You don’t have to fuss,” she said, though she made no move to stop you.

“I’m not fussing,” you replied, wrapping the towel around her waist. “I’m being thorough.”

Once she was dry, she grabbed a fresh towel and turned the tables, wrapping it around you and pulling you close. Her rough hands moved with surprising gentleness as she dried your hair, her smirk widening when you leaned into her touch.

“I could get used to this, too,” you murmured, looking up at her with a mischievous smile.

“What, bossing me around in the tub?” she teased, but her tone was warm.

“That,” you said, reaching for her shirt on the counter, “and wearing your clothes.”

She raised an eyebrow as you pulled the oversized shirt over your head, the fabric swallowing your smaller frame. “You just like stealing my stuff.”

“Maybe,” you admitted, twirling playfully. “But I like how it smells like you.”

Sevika rolled her eyes, but the faint blush dusting her cheeks betrayed her. She pulled you into her arms, her chin resting on top of your head.

“You’re lucky I love you,” she said, her voice low and teasing.

You grinned, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. “I know.”

“I’m the luckiest person in the world to be dating such a woman like you, Vika.”

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

reader pronouns: unspecified warnings: references to domestic abuse, descriptions of injury, fear and anxiety, Daryl to the rescue. Please read with care.

Daryl rushed to the opening of his tent, crossbow in hand, as he heard the rustling of something or someone approaching his camp through the brush. "Who's there?" he growled, crossbow at the ready. But when the figure emerged his stomach dropped into his boots.

You stepped out of the woods, tear stains on your cheeks, not even a pack with you and no outerwear despite the cold and rainy day. But worse than all that was that you were completely battered and bruised.

"Y/N—" he asked, rushing over to you, discarding his crossbow hurriedly nearby. "Jesus... look at ya," he gasped, studying your face. One half of your face was covered in a spattering of dark bruises and your eye was still a little swollen. He gently gripped your upper arms and you began to cry all over again, going to pieces under his soft touch. He clasped your face and tilted your chin to the side so he could look at the particularly dark and puffy bruises on your cheekbone and jaw. His fingertips were so light on your skin so careful. That alone was enough to bring you to tears again—he touched you with such care, the complete opposite of what had been happening to you at home.

A caustic rage began to boil in his stomach. He knew exactly who had done this to you, and he knew exactly what he was going to do about it, but for now he had to bite back that anger and be here in the moment for you. Your safety and comfort was the most important thing in the world right now. Vengeance could come later. "C'mon. Let's get ya inside outta the cold rain."

You staggered after him, gasping in a few breaths as you tried not to sob. He led you inside his tent and sat you down on the edge of his makeshift cot. "I—I didn't know where else to go," you stammered. "I'm sorry f—for j—just showing up here." You were shivering and shaking from some combination of the cold and the obvious trauma. Seeing how bad the bruises were on your face had him wondering what injuries were under your clothes that he couldn't see... "It's alrigh'," he soothed. "Don't ya apologize to me for that," he said. He wrapped a thick wool blanket around you and sunk down beside you on the edge of his cot.

You huddled into the blanket and met his blue eyes. His constantly flickered over your injuries, a pronounced ache in his chest accompanied by a surge of fury every time they hit one. Tears continued to run down your cheeks and he gently wiped them away with the back of his fingers before resting his hands on your shoulders. The weight of them was grounding. "Yer okay now," he drawled. "Yer safe here, alrigh'? I ain't gonna let anythin' happen to ya. S'okay."

You sniffled and fell against him, shutting your eyes and listening to his strong heartbeat. "You're the only place I feel safe," you admitted.

And Daryl realized right then just how much he'd left behind in Alexandria. He wrapped you up in his arms and pressed you tightly against him. "Yer safe. 'M so sorry I wasn't there... 'm so sorry..." He'd been selfish, running away. "'M so sorry."

You fingers gripped onto his familiar vest and curled into it. He smoothed a hand over your hair and tucked you into the crook of his neck.

"'M gonna take care of ya and all of this. Dun worry. I've got ya."

Prompt: "I didn't know where else to go." A/N: *sobs* Protective!Daryl is just the best thing ever...

[gomzwrites]

The taskforce 141’s favourite steamy moments 

Contain smut(18+), minors do not interact

a/n: I wanted to write something that the 141 members like the most whenever they have some spicy moment with the reader >:) so I decided to give smut writing a go! These are arranged based on length, I apologise for writing such a short one for Ghost as I was struggling to make it as gender-neutral as possible(if it still comes out as fem, Im so sorry!), maybe next time I’ll do specific gender one post at a time, but for now enjoy this mess :> Tags: xgn! Reader, dry humping/grinding, eating out(reader receiving), submissive, teasing, riding(implied sorta), biting, slightly possessive behaviour, hand job - let me know if i missed any tags reader's text is in purple PLEASE DO NOT RESHARE MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS WITHOUT MY PERMISSION -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Simon Ghost Riley - taste

Ghost likes it when you run your fingers along his hair, soft and gentle as he closes his eyes and savour the gesture. But he likes it best when you scratch his hairline and lock your hands in his short blonde curls. 

Ghost has been in between your thighs since he dragged you into his room, he laps on your entrance as he sloppily licks up your sensitive sex, sinful slurping and moans filling the room. He works his tongue expertly, mixing those arousal juices with his saliva as he grunts and groans. You watch with teary, half-lidded eyes as he slowly retracts from your aching sex and trails teasing kisses around your thighs before he bites down as you jolt.

S-simon…! 

You whine out his name as he hums and graze his teeth along your thighs, taking his sweet time as he watches you grow increasingly desperate, turning into a whimpering mess on his bed because of him.

He spread your leg further as he let his tongue dance against you, watching your back arches up as he moan into your sex, causing a shiver to run down your spine as his deep husky voice reverberated through your entire body. He looks up to you with those dark eyes that are blown out and filled with desire, hungrily pinning your hips down with his eyes alone. 

“Be good”, was all he said before he latch onto you again as he devour you like there was no tomorrow. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

John Soap MacTavish - wants

You struggle to breathe properly as your chest is fully pressed on top of your desk, now messy and with papers and reports that are scattered about and long forgotten. 

Grunts and moans filled your room as Soap has your hands pinned on top of your head, his other hand grabbing your hips, fingers digging into your hips that always leave purplish-red marks the next day. 

“Fuck y/n…..” Soap slurs as he buckled his hip at your ass, both of you still have your gears and clothes on, leaving only the bulky vest on the floor as he grinds on you, so desperate, so fucking desperate. 

He leans down to bite on the back of your neck causing you to moan as you feel his tongue lap at the bite marks and suck gently to soothe the flesh, now littered with goosebumps. You can feel how warm and hot he is from your back despite the layers of clothes, and you can hear his heartbeat too when he starts thrusting you faster, harsher, pressing his chest and his hips on you, as if he’s moulding your entire body as both of you are mushed together perfectly. 

‘It's not enough…” he growls as he continues grinding on you, voice getting lower as he frowns and bites down on your neck again, another mark as he lets out pants of frustration, you gasp and moan at his bites as you push your hips back to meet his.

‘Yeah just like that…fuck…..fuck. me.” he lets out a deep sigh as both of you fight to push your hips towards each other to be impossibly close, you can feel it too, you can feel how he angles his hip so that every time he snaps and presses onto you, you can feel his tip poking at your entrance, making you roll your eyes back as you sob softly.

You want him, just as badly as he wants you.  God it’s not enough, it’s never enough at all and yet every single fucking time, he does it still, it's too painfully good to stop, to pause this heating moment to remove some fabric, no, there’s no way he’ll stop, it's as if he’s afraid that doing so will result in these pent-up emotions and arousal slipping away.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Captain John Price - voice

John likes it when you hold back your moans and voices whenever you guys do it in his office, since his room is in the centre of the base, that means there are other rooms besides, and the walls are not exactly the thickest.

Sure, he absolutely loves your moans and the way you scream his name whenever he pounds you hard never fails to make him lost in ecstasy. But nothing riles him up more than hearing the voices you make that only he gets to hear.

He loves it when you suppress your moans, because it makes it so your voice tends to become whinier, and more desperate, reaching a pitch that sometimes has surprised him and yourself. He loves it because when you try to be quiet by squeezing your head into his neck, mouth biting on his collar as he drags his thick cock in and out of you, he gets to hear all those little gasps and pretty little moans that are barely audible.

John loves it, and he absolutely likes to break that resolve of yours, he likes to push all the buttons to see you crumble before him, and he knows when he is on the right track when you start to pant harder, and those whimper escapes more as you shakily grab onto his arm, 

J-John….please…

he smirks as the pleas come spilling out from your mouth whenever you feel like you couldn't hold in your moans more.

“Awwww….too much?” 

He would whisper back into your ears as he draws out each word in his deep honey voice, hands coming down on your waist before he slams it down hard on his hip, causing a startled yelp and a jolt of shiver running down your spine and let out a string of suppressed curses and moans.

He chuckles deeply, hot breath fanning against your neck when he watches your eyes tear up and your mouth opens as you let out a silent scream, still holding on as you shake your head and mutter to him, “N-no…m-my voice-” you didn’t finish your words as he clashes his mouth with yours, swallowing your pitiful pleas before biting down your lower lip as he pulls back, smirking as he bites down your shoulder.

“Let it out”, he challenges you with a raspy voice as he kisses the bite marks around your neck and nibbles softly when he coos at you, watching you squirm around as he gives you a mischievous look, oh he is going to, and will bully you until he has you screaming his name.  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Kyle Gaz Garrick - hands

Kyle loves it whenever you take your time and tease him with your hands, you can feel how his thigh muscle tensed up and how he let out his breath shakily whenever you trail your finger around him. He always likes it when you start slow, gently trailing along his neck first as you kiss and softly nibble his ears, before you slip your hands down lower as you rest it on his chest, and those eyes….those big doe eyes of yours whenever you look up to him and whisper so sweetly, honey tone dripping out from your irresistible mouth absolutely drives him mad every time, and send his head into a spiral heat of want.

You like it, hm?

He gives a nod as he lay back on the sofa, completely melting under you touch as he squeezes his eyes shut when he feels your teasing hand trailing around his chest, sometimes flicking his nipples that cause him to jolt as you giggle,

Mhm, you do like it…

Fuck, you’ve barely done anything and he already feels like his losing his mind, only being able to nod frantically as words fail to come into his mind. As you slowly reach down, resting your palm just shy above his pants, his grip on your hip tightens as he desperately wants you to go lower, to give him what he wants. He loves it because you always manage to rile him up, giving some relief but never enough, it's like you knew exactly how he works. 

Hmmmmm what do you want…pretty boy?

You whisper back teasingly as you brush your lips against his ear, you watch as his boxers get tighter when his arousal increases, even a small stain was visible now the more you tease him with the nickname, his favourite one, among all the other things you call him.

“Ah fuck….please y/n…”

He begs as you slowly pull down his boxers, bit by bit as he lifts his hips up on instinct to help you remove them, then you slowly let him free of these hellish restrictions, and you make sure your hand doesn't touch his hard cock that flings up as you remove the boxers, watching the red angry tip leaking as he lets out a content sigh. Yet as free as he is at the moment, he needs more.

“y/n….god…please….”

He whines softly again as you rest your hand on his V-line, trailing those deep beautiful grooves as you hum idly and press your body against his. You continue moving your hand along the V-line before you lightly ghost his cock with the middle knuckle of your index finger, running it all the way from his tip to the base. 

Please what hm?

He lets out another whimper when you tease him again, trying to be good as he bites his lower lip to stop himself from flinching so much from how sensitive and needy he is, he nuzzles into your neck as he pleaded with a desperate tone, voice crackling at the end as he gulps in between words. 

“Please….fuck….please touch me….touch my cock…need to feel you please….”

You chuckle as you kiss his cheek and snake your hand down to hold the base of his cock, watching him buck his hip up to seek those sweet, sweet friction. Who are you to deny him when he begged so nicely?

Good boy~ 

you whisper back huskily as you wrap your hands around his length, he takes a sharp inhale and lets out a trembling moan as he slung his head back to the top of the couch, his hand holding your hips, to ground himself as you start moving your hands around his cock, sliding upwards as you wipe the precum of the tip, teasing the tip as you slowly pump your hand down and watch another string of precum leak and flow down his length, you run your thumb along that one prominent vein as you press on it slightly, the agonizing slow speed you’re doing makes Kyle gasp as he frown and grab your hips tighter,

“fuck, so good….hmm fuck your hands….ah…”, he lets out a loud moan lightly when you kiss his ear lobe, whispering sweet nothing as you attack his ear with your tongue, moaning and letting sloppy noises consume his head, you take this opportunity to reach out and interlace your finger with his other hand as well to overwhelm him in every sense.

He prays internally as he tries his best not to come right here right now, you just started stroking him but he already feels like he’s about to explode. He can’t help it when he can feel your hands, every crease of your finger swiping along his girth as you pump slowly again, god and your thumb? Whenever you use it to press down on him he swears his vision goes white for a moment.  

“Don't stop….” 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

a/n: yes yes I know yet another longer section for Gaz, I am, and forever will be biased towards our babygirl, YOU CAN'T STOP ME *runs*

[pumpkin-writes]

— ୨୧ kinktober day 1

pairing: jj maybank x pouge!reader

warnings: 18+, nsfw ( obv ) oral fixation, established fwb relationship, oral ( m receiving ) some light hair tugging, use of petnames ( baby ) some facefucking, jj cums in reader's mouth 🤤

word count: 1.1 k

notes: this was my first ever kinktober submission & i hope y'all like reading it as much as i liked writing it! luv me some jj <33

you have always had an oral fixation, something you'd been vaguely aware of but never fully thought about. whether it’s chewing gum, nibbling on your lip, or constantly toying with a pen cap between your teeth, you are rarely seen without something in your mouth. it started as a nervous habit in your childhood, a way to soothe yourself in stressful situations, but as you grew older, it became part of your daily life—a subtle comfort in the chaos of the outer banks. honestly, you don't even realize how often you do it, but jj notices. and he teases you endlessly about it.

the house was quiet now that the others had left. the pogues had spent the afternoon lounging around, filling the small house with their usual chaos and laughter. your place was the usual hangout spot lately, what with the lack of adult supervision. but now it was just you and jj, the stillness settling in as the door clicked shut behind pope, the last to leave. you were in your room, the faint light from the bedside lamp casting soft, golden shadows on the walls. you sat on your bed, legs crossed as you absentmindedly chewed on a piece of gum, staring at the corner of your room like it held the answers to all your thoughts. jj leaned against the wall across from you, his arms crossed, watching you with that familiar grin. "you always gotta have something in your mouth, don’t you?" the blonde asked, his voice casual, but there was that familiar teasing edge to it. you raised an eyebrow, snapping your spearmint gum again just to annoy him. "maybe i do. got a problem with that, maybank?" though your words were cocky, your chewing slowed for a second, your eyes flicking over to him as he pushed off the wall and moved closer, sitting on the edge of the bed beside you.

your breath hitched in your throat and your heart beat hard in your chest. your room felt smaller with him in it, the walls too close, your thoughts swirling. you chewed a little faster, like you could grind out whatever was making your heart race. but you just couldn't. "well, i’m sure we can find other things to keep that pretty mouth busy." jj smirked, leaning back on his elbows, beginning to fumble with the fly of his shorts, his blue eyes trailing over you with a teasing glint.

you bit down on the gum, feeling a thrill run through you at the suggestive tone in his voice. your gaze drifted down to jj's hands, now paused mid-motion as they hovered over the button of his shorts. the air in the room seemed to thicken, heavy with unspoken tension. this wasn't your first time alone in your room with jj. you tried not to make a big deal about it, it wasn't like anyone knew that you and jj hooked up and for now, you were both okay with that secret. he slowly unzipped his shorts, revealing the beginnings of a familiar trail of blonde hair leading downwards while shifting to face you more fully on the bed. his movements were deliberate, each one drawing out the anticipation. "let's put that tongue to better use," he drawled, pushing his cargo shorts and boxers down just enough to free his semi-erect cock. it stood proudly, the tip already glistening with pre-cum. "but first… " jj reached out, quickly plucking the wad of gum from between your lips before dropping it onto the nightstand. "can't have distractions getting in the way."

your breath caught in your throat as jj's fingers curled around your chin, tilting your face up towards his erection. your pulse raced, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through your veins. a shiver ran down your spine as jj's warm hand cradled the back of your head, his touch sending sparks of desire through your body. your gaze locked onto the swollen head of jj's dick, the bead of pre-cum glistening invitingly. without thinking, you leaned in, your tongue darting out to lick a slow stripe along the underside of his shaft. god, the taste of him was intoxicating— salty and musky, with a hint of something that was just uniquely jj. a low groan escaped jj's lips as the plush of your tongue made contact with his sensitive flesh. his grip tightened in your hair, fingertips grazing your scalp as he guided you further down onto his length. "fuck baby, just like that," he grunted, his hips rocking gently to meet your eager mouth. the wet heat enveloped him deliciously, your lips stretching wide to accommodate his girth. jj reveled in the sight of your pretty mouth stuffed full of his cock, your cheeks hollowing as you worked him up and down. "goddamn, you look good with your lips wrapped around my dick," he praised, one hand drifting down to cup your jaw, beginning to thrust shallowly, testing your limits. despite the initial shock of having jj's cock in your mouth, you found yourself growing more confident, more eager to please him. your hands came up to rest on jj's thighs, gripping the firm muscle as you bobbed your head in rhythm with his gentle thrusts, your tongue swirling around the head each time he hit the back of your throat. a sense of power surged through you— you could make jj feel good, could bring him pleasure with your mouth alone.

jj's breathing quickened as your mouth worked wonders. your tight throat constricted around him in the most heavenly way, the suction drawing him in deeper with each bob of your head. "shit, baby, you're killing me here," he panted and rocked his hips faster, fucking your mouth with increasing urgency. the wet sounds of the encounter filled the room, punctuated by his guttural moans and your muffled whimpers. the sight of you taking him so well, your eyes watering slightly as you struggled to fit his entire length, sent a rush of blood straight to his core. jj's balls drew up tight, a telltale sign of his impending release. "i'm gonna cum, fuck, right down your throat," jj warned, his voice strained. with a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt in your welcoming mouth and erupted, spilling hot jets of cum directly onto your tongue. "fuuuckkk," jj bellowed, his entire body shaking as he rode out his high while he held your head firmly in place, ensuring not a single drop of his release escaped your greedy mouth. as the aftershocks faded, he slumped back against your pillows, chest heaving. his hand gentled in your hair, stroking it soothingly as he tried to catch his breath. he gazed down at you, his eyes softening with admiration and affection.

"see?" he whispered, his voice low and rough. "way better than gum."

[letstrip13]

୨୧ - cramps

summary: your boyfriend comes over to take care of you when you get your period

warnings: none, just enjoy cutesy bf!chris. not proofread!

word count: 819

author's note: day 3 of posting blurbs!! send requests for blurbs or fics!! also over 600 likes on my last blurb is insane, i haven’t gotten that many in so long tysm!! 𖹭

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you're laying on the couch in your apartment's living room, all curled up in the only position that can provide some relief from the pain. your period came this morning and by this evening, the horrible day one cramps had hit.

about ten minutes ago, you had texted your boyfriend, chris, to come over to cuddle and watch a movie. he wasn’t too far so he’d be showing up any minute now.

another few minutes tick by when the door you left unlocked for him comes flying open. chris bursts through the door holding an overflowing grocery bag in each hand as he calls out to you, sounding urgent, “baby?!” you sit up in a panic, worried by the tone of his voice. “i'm in here!”

he rushes into the living room and drops the bags on the coffee table, almost knocking over the scented candle you had burning in the process. a giggle slips out of your lips, the panic quickly replaced by confusion and amusement. “what's all this, my love?”

he looks up at you, an expression so nervous that you just want to run your fingers through his hair and give him a squeeze, but you let him speak.

“i- umm.. it's everything you need for your period. i know it's hard for you sometimes.. so i wanted to make it better.” the confusion courses through your mind again. you hadn't mentioned it when you texted him. “wha- how'd you know?” a soft chuckle escapes him. “you always ask me to come cuddle when you're on it.. and we've been together over a year, princess, i know you.”

“you're so sweet, i don't know what i’d do without you, chris.” his face breaks into his usual charming grin. “wanna see what i got?” he kneels in front of the couch where you're sitting and he places the bags in front of him.

first, he pulls a box of pads and a box of tampons, placing them next to him. “just in case you needed more,” he adds with a sheepish smile, “i hope i got the right ones.” “you did great, baby.” a relieved smile crosses his lips and he continues digging through the bags.

he pulls out a hot water bottle complete with a cute cover, pink with little red strawberries scattered around it. then he follows it up with a bottle of generic painkillers. “the lady at the store says these will be good for your cramps,” he tells you with a proud little smirk.

he takes out a pair of black fresh love sweatpants and the zip-up hoodie to match. “these because i know you forgot to get some last time you were over,” he pauses and digs around in the bottom of the bag and pulls out a pair of purple fuzzy socks with black cats on them, “..and these because i know you love halloween, even if it is a little early.”

you watch him carefully, hanging on to every word he says but you remain silent, words having left you for the time being. he takes a different approach with emptying the second bag, opting to just dump everything out in front of you. out tumbles a pile of your favourite snacks, chocolate, and candy, as well as six bags of honey bbq fritos which chris starts to ramble on about, “i was looking for these for so long. i went to so many different stores and gas stations this week but they were sold out every time. i saw them today and thought might as well buy them all-”

he's interrupted with a choked sob escaping your lips as hot tears roll down your cheeks. the thoughtfulness of your boyfriend's loving gesture gave you such an overwhelming feeling of adoration. but mixed with the heightened emotions as a side effect of your period, you can't help but cry.

chris quickly notices and rushes to pull you into his arms, doing his best to soothe your sobs. “is something wrong? did i buy the wrong thing?” a few slightly louder cries come out of you before you can hold it together enough to speak. “no, it's all perfect. you're-” you manage to gasp out between sobs, “perfect. i love you so much. thank you.”

you can feel a rush of air leave chris at his relief. “oh good. i thought it was about the fritos. they're not all for me, you know.” you laugh, the tears quickly being forgotten as he wipes away the traces of them on your cheeks.

“how about we cuddle and watch a movie?” you nod, getting comfortable on the couch and grabbing a blanket for the both of you to share. “sounds good to me.” you rest your head on his shoulder and pick a movie. he gently tilts your chin up to place a soft kiss on your lips just as the movie begins.

------------------------୨୧------------------------

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[futurewdclandonorris]

Read to me. | Lando Norris⁴

Pairings: Lando Norris x girlfriend!reader

Summary: after a hard day, Lando knows he can always turn to you for some comfort... And then give something in return

Warnings: fluff with smut hehe

A/N: I tried writing pure fluff and failed. I split it into two though and put another divider so you can finish with the fluff part without having to read the smut if you don't want to :)

The sun had already set when Lando returned home from his day out working with sponsors. He opened the door of your shared bedroom, finding you already in your pajamas, absorbed in a book. Smiling a little, he leaned against the door frame silently watching you, exhaustion thick on his face.

"Hey, baby," you finally took notice of him, glancing up and putting the book down for a moment to softly greet him.

"Hey," he slowly made his way towards the bed, crawling until he snuggled into your lap.

"Long day?" one of your hands immediately tangled into his curls, beginning to massage his scalp. He closed his eyes, groaning in satisfaction.

"You've no idea." he mumbled, relaxing under your touch.

As he rested in your lap, you couldn't help but notice how worn out he looked and it was as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders the moment he sank into your embrace. You kept working your fingers through his hair, feeling the muscles in his body become increasingly relaxed with each stroke.

"Want to talk about it?" you asked gently, knowing how much he tended to keep to himself when it came to work. He shook his head, burrowing deeper into your lap.

"Not really," he sighed. "Just a lot of meetings, a lot of people trying to get a piece of me. It gets exhausting after a while."

You nodded in understanding, continuing to run your fingers through his locks. The room fell silent, the only sounds the soft hum of the air conditioning and the occasional rustle as you adjusted your position. It was a comfortable silence, one that only came with the familiarity of years spent together.

"How was your day?" you smiled at the question, knowing that Lando always made an effort to ask about you no matter how tired he was.

"It was good," you replied, thinking back to the meetings you had and the progress you made on your latest project. "Productive, but not as eventful as yours."

Lando chuckled, his breath tickling your stomach. "I'll take boring over exhausting any day," he said, his eyes still closed.

The two of you sat in quiet once more - you continuing to read your book and Lando finding interest in his phone - enjoying the comfort of each other's company. Eventually, Lando put his phone down and nestled himself between your legs, his head on your lower abdomen.

"Could you read to me?" he asked, looking up at you with puppy dog eyes. It wasn't unusual question. He often asked you to do so or just talk to him in general cause he loved falling asleep to the sound of your voice.

"Of course." you smiled softly at him, running your hand through his hair once more before grabbing your book and flipping to the page you left off on.

When you began to read, Lando closed his eyes and listened intently to your tone. It was soothing and calming, and he found himself slipping into a peaceful state. He loved how your voice gently lilted up and down, as if the words you read were a lullaby meant only for him.

As you read on, Lando's hands found their way to your sides, tickling you ever so slightly, causing you to giggle. You playfully swatted his hands away, but he persisted, his fingers dancing along your skin.

"You're such a child," you chuckled, but you didn't mind. It was moments like these that made you appreciate how carefree and playful Lando could be.

"You love it," he grinned, his hands still tickling you mercilessly.

You tried to push him away, but he was too quick, his fingers finding every sensitive spot on your body. You couldn't help but laugh, the sound filling the room and mixing with the sound of your voice as you continued reading.

Finally, you managed to catch his hands, holding them still. Lando pouted, but you could see the amusement in his eyes. "I thought you wanted me to read to you?"

"Sorry, I couldn't resist," he said, still grinning.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help the smile on your face. "You really are a child," you teased, but your tone was affectionate.

Lando shrugged, his grin still firmly in place. "What can I say? You bring out the playful side in me."

You shook your head, but couldn't help, but feel fondness for the man in your lap. He may have been exhausted from work, but he always managed to find a way to make you laugh and give you attention.

Your reading continued and Lando stilled once more, his breathing becoming slower and more even making you believe he had fallen asleep. However, when you turned to the next page, you heard him let out a soft sigh, his body relaxing even further against you. You smiled at the sound, feeling content with the moment. It was simple, but you found that it was often the simplest moments that brought the most joy.

You leaned down and placed a soft kiss on Lando's forehead, careful so as not to disturb his peace. You knew that he needed his rest and you were happy to just watch him sleep and take in the moment.

But he was not ready to drift off just yet as his fingers started slowly caressing your legs, reaching upwards to the outside of your thighs.

You paused mid sentence, glancing down at Lando to see if he was awake. His eyes were still closed, but his hands continued their slow, deliberate movements up your legs. A shiver ran through you, and you couldn't help the way your breath caught in your throat.

"Lando?" you asked softly, unsure if he was awake or not.

He didn't answer, but his fingertips kept tracing patterns over your skin. He turned over, lightly brushing the tip of his nose over your inner thighs. Your heart skipped a beat as his lips travelled higher and higher up your body, leaving a trail of soft kisses along the way. You could feel the heat building between your legs, and you knew that you were getting wet.

"Lando, what are you doing?" you asked, your voice a mix of surprise and arousal.

"Keep going, baby, keep reading," he continued to kiss his way up, his hands holding your hips steady. You couldn't help, but squirm under his touch, your body already primed for him.

With no other choice, you resumed reading, your voice a bit shaky at the thought of what Lando was going to do to you.

Still teasing, Lando's hands travelled along the inside of your legs, making your lips quiver in response. You struggled to keep reading, the words in front of you starting to blur. With a final flick of his wrist, your panties were gone, and you were completely exposed to him.

"You're doing such a good job, really making me interested in the story..." Lando's voice ghosted over your skin, causing you to shiver.

And before you could turn over the next page, he buried his face between your legs. Your breath hitched as you felt his tongue against your pussy, licking and tasting every inch of you. You threw your head back, panting as his tongue flicked against your clit. He was slow and gentle at first, just teasing you with butterfly kisses. But it wasn't long before his hands grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to him, his mouth closing over you.

"I didn't tell you to stop reading, did I?" he asked, his voice muffled as he spoke. You shook your head, hands crumpling the book cover as you tried to focus on the text before you. "I'll stop if you do."

But he wouldn't let you. Instead, his mouth closed around your clit, sucking on it as his fingers teased your opening. You gasped, your body shuddering as his fingers slipped inside you, teasing you at the same time.

"Fuck, Lando..." you moaned, the pitch of your voice rising.

"Now, babe, I'm pretty sure that isn't part of the text," he teased, pulling his fingers out of you once more.

"No, no," you whimpered, your eyes pleading with him to keep going. He chuckled, the sound vibrating against your sensitive skin.

"Please, Lando," you begged, your voice breathless once more.

"Say it, baby," he said softly, his breath hot against you.

"I'm sorry, please, don't stop," you whispered, knowing what he needed to hear.

"Good girl, such a good girl," he said approvingly before going back to what he was doing.

This time, he didn't tease you. Rather, he pressed his lips firmly over your clit, sucking on it hard. You cried out loudly, your hips bucking wildly as he pressed two fingers deep into your wet, dripping cunt. His fingers worked you fast and hard, curling upwards to tease your g-spot. You could feel your muscles tightening, pleasure radiating through your body as you got closer and closer to the edge.

"Oh, fuck, I'm gonna come," you said breathlessly, your legs shaking as you tried to keep them open for him.

"I didn't tell you to come, did I?" he asked, his fingers still working away at your wet, needy pussy, this time even harder than before.

"No, please, I'm so close..." you trailed off, your body trembling on the brink.

"Beg for it, baby. Tell me how much you want to come. Use your words." he said firmly, his fingers increasing their speed. He knew you were close, and he loved the way your body shook beneath his touch.

"Fuck, I need to come, please, let me come," you whimpered, tossing your head back as you tried to hold on a little longer.

"Oh, really?" he asked, his fingers stilling for a moment. He loved denying you, loved denying you the pleasure you so desperately wanted, especially when you were this close.

"Yes, please, I'm almost there," you begged, your voice tight with arousal as you tried to keep yourself from orgasming.

"You really want to come?" he asked, his fingers stilling completely.

"Yes!"

"I'm not sure that's a part of the story, you know," he smirked, looking up at you.

"Please, Lando," you gasped, the sensations of his touch shaking your body.

"Why should I let you come, baby? What's it going to take?" he asked, his fingers lightly dancing against your clit.

"I don't know, I don't care, just finish what you started," you pleaded, your voice breathless and needy.

"I'll think about it," he teased, his fingers still circling against your clit.

"Lando!" you screamed. You tried to push yourself over the edge, but it was no use. He just wasn't going to let you come.

You bit your lip, doing your best not to cry out in frustration. He removed his fingers, and you could feel the cool air on your wet skin. And before you could turn over another page, his fingers plunged into you once more, his tongue returning to tease your clit.

"I thought I told you to keep reading," he said, his fingers picking up the pace once more.

You tried to focus on the words on the page, but it was no use. It was impossible to focus when he was doing that to you.

"Such a good girl, such a good girl," he murmured. "Come for me, baby, just for me."

And that was all it took, your body breaking over the edge as you came hard against his mouth. Your moans filled the room, his name falling from your lips as you rode out your orgasm.

You slumped back against the pillows, your breathing heavy as you struggled to keep your eyes open. Lando pulled up your panties, his fingers gentle as he ran them over your skin.

"Ready for the next chapter?" he grinned innocently, his lips brushing against your inner thigh.

[wttcsms]

baby, oh baby ; satoru gojo

pairing satoru gojo x f!reader word count 1.2k synopsis gojo is surprisingly good at caring. (or: he comforts you while you get morning sickness and start spiraling). content contains thr*wing up (morning sickness), pregnancy, pregnant!reader, domestic fluff, soft!gojo, reassurance

Satoru Gojo knows he’s a dead man from the minute he swings open the bathroom door and finds you curled up by the toilet. 

Even in his shirt and a pair of sweatpants that have clearly seen better days, with your hair all messed up and your lips chapped, Gojo thinks you are absolutely adorable. Beautiful, even. 

He tells you this, thinking it’ll cheer you up, but all you do is narrow your pretty little eyes at him.

“You,” you practically snarl at him. “You did this to me!”

He raises his hands in mock surrender. “Now, honey, I know it’s been a while since you took a biology class, but it takes two of us to, you know—” He gestures to your stomach, which still isn’t showing much of a bump since it’s only the first trimester, but you get the message. He decides he should have just shut up whenever you send him an absolutely scathing glare.

“It’s all my fault.” He immediately changes his tune. “You’re right, honey, I am an awful person for getting you pregnant. You should kill me for my transgressions.” 

“You want to make me a single mother now?” You snap at him.

“Okay, I see that that was the wrong thing to say.” Gojo tries to give you a soothing smile to calm you down, but it comes off as more of a nervous grimace. “I would never die early and let you raise our wonderful child alone. As a matter of fact, I refuse to die only until you tell me it’s okay to do so!” 

“Satoru.” You close your eyes, opening the toilet lid, anticipating another bout of morning sickness to come spilling out your mouth. “Get out.” 

“Nah. That’s the one thing I can’t do.” He dares to take another step into the bathroom, frowning at how cold the marble tiles are. It can’t possibly be comfortable for you to be kneeling on the floor like this, especially since you’re throwing up last night’s dinner. 

“Satoru, I’m not being funny right now. I’m seriously about to vomit, and you won’t want to be here.”

He kneels down by your side, gathering your hair in his hand and pulling it all behind your shoulders. “I’m not being funny, either. I’ll stay by your side no matter what.” 

You don’t reply to his sweet comment, even though you really want to. Instead, you actually do make good on your word, and only after you flush the toilet does he bother saying anything else.

“Do you feel a bit better now?” 

“Yes. No. I don’t know!” You shut your eyes, leaning against him, your back pressed against the warmth of his chest. Being pregnant sounded hot during the heat of the moment when the baby was being made, but now reality is hitting, and you’re already crying about how ugly maternity clothes are. You look like a wreck right now, and you’re barely nine weeks in with the pregnancy. Meanwhile, Satoru looks fan-fucking-tastic, as he always does. 

His hand finds yours easily, and he intertwines your fingers together. He starts to absentmindedly fiddle with your wedding ring as he talks. 

“What’s bothering you?” 

You know that while Satoru was pursuing you, there was a long line of women all excited and ready to be the one by his side. You know that Satoru sometimes is a certified flight risk, running away from intimacy when the feeling gets too overwhelming for him. You know that Satoru is the only man capable of breaking your heart, and he’s subsequently the only man who would be able to piece it back together. Even with a ring and a legal certificate binding you two together, there are still annoying little doubts running in the back of your mind that has only worsened through your anxiety of life literally being grown inside of you and unbalanced hormones. 

“Everything.” You tell him, and it’s not even a joke or an exaggeration. 

“Well, tell me something that’s bothering you now. Something I can solve.” He adds on this last sentence, already knowing that you would most likely ask him for the impossible just to be funny. As conceited as he acts to the outside world, Satoru is surprisingly caring and observant towards others. 

“What if our baby is ugly?” You look up at him, gauging his reaction.

At first, his eyes widen, and then he laughs. You can tell it’s genuine because you can feel the way it comes from his chest. 

“It has us as its parents. With both our genes combined, it won’t have much to worry about.”

“No! I’m serious! Haven’t you heard the saying that two pretty people make an ugly baby?” 

“Well, we’ll be the exception.”

“I’m being serious, Satoru! Your eyes are kinda scary to look at sometimes. Our baby will need brown contacts if it inherits your eyes.” 

Oh, so because you’re emotionally fragile, you’re allowed to make comments about his eyes? Satoru snorts. You better be lucky he loves you so much. 

“Why does it matter if our baby is ugly? Why is our baby being ugly even a thought in your mind?”

“This world sucks. Looking good is key to having an enjoyable experience on earth. You should start worrying about our child’s future, too, you know!” 

“I would fight the entire world if it mistreated our baby.” Satoru presses a reassuring kiss to the top of your head. “And I know you would, too. So who cares if our baby is ugly?”

“That’s not the point, Satoru!” You frown, knowing that you’re being ridiculous right now, but who else could handle you in this state if not him? There’s a reason why he’s the one you call your husband, and he’s the one who put the aforementioned potentially-ugly baby inside of you. 

“Fine. If our baby is ugly, let’s leave it on Kento’s doorsteps and let it be his problem for the next eighteen years. Then, we can get started on the next and hope the second time’s the charm. Sounds like a solid plan?” He doesn’t mean it, but he knows it’s best to just try and nip these hypotheticals in the bud. 

You’re silent for a moment. Then, “You’re awful! I would love our baby, even if it had your eyes and crazy ass hair.” 

“I would love our baby, too. Ugly or not. You know why?”

“You’re going to say something corny.” 

“I was going to say that I would love our baby because it came from you. Nothing ugly is coming out of your body, babe. And anyway, I love you so much, how could I hate anything that’s literally half you?” 

Even if you’re in the mood to be annoying and insecure, and your brain is telling you to argue some more with your husband, you can’t help but relax after hearing this. 

(Nine months later, all your worries seem to be all for naught; your son is the cutest thing to be born.)

[luna-rainbow]

Bucky’s metal arm has touch sensors. They’ve just never been calibrated properly. The soldier learned only what was important to him on the field, the cold hard metal of a gun and how much pressure to use when pulling the trigger.

Steve notices this, as he helps Bucky settle in to his new life. He sees Bucky touching the soft flannel bedsheets first with his right hand, then with his left hand, brows knitted in deep concentration.

Uncertainly, Steve asks if he doesn’t like it, if it is too warm or too soft—

“Soft,” Bucky picks up the word from Steve’s ramble. He lowers his head and looks at the pastel sheets between his fingers, and repeats. “Soft.”

The cotton tee, the woollen cardigan, the denim pants, the mesh sneakers, he gently rubs each textile between his fingers with both hands. He does the same when in the kitchen, running his fingers lightly over the coarse heads of a cauliflower, the pockmarked rind of an orange, the sharp stalks of rosemary, the glossy skin of a plum.

His vocabulary recovers more with time, and whenever Steve asks how it feels, he can give a few extra words — firm, smooth, hard, sharp, rough. On the occasions he says the word soft, his whole expression relaxes and all the lines soften, and Steve wishes he could swathe the man with everything soft and fluffy just to keep it there.

They sit down to watch TV after dinner. lt’s their ritual. A time when they sit together silently — when Bucky gets used to being in the same physical space, without feeling the pressure to make conversation. It seems silly but Steve has seen the difference it has made, from Bucky wedging himself into the other end of the couch, to now relaxing next to him, their shoulders occasionally brushing as they reach for the crackers on the table.

This has been a particularly long day, Steve having just returned from a 3 day mission where he barely caught a wink. About ten minutes into the soothing documentary about red pandas, he is fast asleep. He wakes to something brushing against his hand, light and tremulous. Then something a little cooler and a lot harder does the same, and he realises what it is.

Bucky snatches his hands back when Steve opens his eyes. He says guiltily, “Sorry.”

Steve reaches out and rests his palm over Bucky’s metal fingers. “How does it feel?”

Bucky searches his face warily, and then he relaxes. Steve feels a light tickle as the small metal plates whir quietly under his hand.

“Soft,” Bucky answers. After a moment, he adds, “Warm.”

Steve threads his fingers through the metal ones, and holds the hand close. After a little while, he feels the metal fingers curl slowly until they rest, ever so gently, against the back of his hand.

“Tingly,” Bucky suddenly says, out of nowhere.

Steve smiles and answers, “Same.” He points to his chest, “Here.”

He can see the concern and confusion as Bucky glances a few times at his ribs.

One day, Bucky will understand what that means. Steve looks down at their linked fingers and runs his thumb along the metal plates, drawing a slight shiver from the man beside him.

This is a good start.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

had some SAGAU brainrot, hear me out-

you had a cat, back in your world; a soft, fluffy little friend to accompany you during your day-to-day life. it were your closest companion, silently keeping watch over you and curling up on your lap as you worked, allowed you to hug it whenever you were feeling stressed- running your hands through a cat's soft fur was a surefire way to ease your frazzled nerves and anxious heart.

but then you came to Teyvat and, well, your cat didn't come with you. then all these people, all the characters you thought were just part of a game, proclaimed you a god, putting you on the highest pedestal of all, every single eye on you all the time, watching your every move- and you hate it. you just want to be alone with someone or something to hug, living your own life the way you want to, but now everyone clings to your every word, holding their breath for you to make some decision, any decision, because apparently you're the Creator of this world.

the only decision you want to make is the decision to close the door of your room and cry.

Childe had always been your favorite, even if you tried not to show it. you felt safe around him, if no one else in this new world, and as such he was allowed to visit you whenever he pleased. it's during one of these visits that you quietly tell him about your cat, admitting that you just want to go home and return to your old life, and Childe's brow furrows in worry. he can't help you get home... but he can give you something fluffy to hug, and he gives your hand a light squeeze before shifting into his Foul Legacy form just for you.

you blink in surprise when you see an Abyssal beast instead of Childe sitting before you, but a tired smile quickly appears on your face when Legacy nudges his head into your hands, looking up at you with a gentle purr. you bury your fingers into his thick ginger hair and it feels like petting your cat again- a bigger, fluffier version of your cat, but the knots in your stomach still loosen as you lean into Foul Legacy's embrace with a contented sigh, the first smile you've had in weeks spreading across your lips.

and Legacy rumbles happily at your smile, his Abyssal heart soothed by the happiness of the Creator.