#they look at the others crying for help like

[chiwhorei]

𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘴 ₊˚⊹♡

Pairing: ᴢᴀʏɴᴇ, sʏʟᴜs, ᴄᴀʟᴇʙ, xᴀᴠɪᴇʀ, ʀᴀꜰᴀʏᴇʟ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Tags: shortform, drabble, daddy kink et al, nasty back-shots, men begging, nothing too crazy but all smut. MDNI I swear to GOD dfwm

Notes: The LaDS and their cocks, that’s all this is. I can’t stop thinking about them, I’m lost in orbit. I may never make it back. —Xoxo, Dollie

ᴢᴀʏɴᴇ has a thick cock you can barely fit your lips around and makes your jaw ache. It’s a feeling you’re seemingly addicted to, so he’s contented to let you suckle on the tip with tears in your eyes for as long as you need. Zayne is observant, acutely aware of when your eyes get glassy and your bottom lip trembles ever so slightly. He knows just what you need. He’s a not-so-secret freak with iron-clad composure so he’ll keep you down there for hours humping his leg and blowing bubbles on his tip. Your face and chin are shiny with spit and tears, pupils blown fat as saucers when two fingers lift your head to meet his even and positively adoring gaze. His thumb swipes over your bottom lip, tapping twice before you suck it into your mouth obediently.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ “Such a pretty girl. Daddy’s pretty cock whore, so desperate for anything I give you.”

sʏʟᴜs has a long, curved cock that curls right into your g-spot, veins pulsing prominently on either side that you can feel distinctly. And even though it hurts going in every time, once you’re stretched around it you physically can’t stop yourself from cumming on it repeatedly and milking him dry. He can’t help wrapping his long, lithe fingers around your throat, fingertips pressing in just enough to remind you what’ll happen if you stop your desperate bouncing. Your legs ache, your head is swimming, but you continue with a sloppy wet rhythm. Tears prick at your eyes for Sylus to thumb away, gentle for only a beat before something sinister curls around his lips. You yelp at the mean pinch to your clit, your final warning.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ “We’ve barely just begun, sweetheart. I thought you were my big girl? That’s it, baby, cum around it again”

ᴄᴀʟᴇʙ has such a stupidly big cock —coke can thick and slaps his belly button— that he’s worried might kill you one of these days, especially with how fucking insistent you are that he gives it all to you at once. He takes hours working you open before he’ll even unzip his pants, shaking his head at the way you plead against your own best interests. You’re squirting against his chest and abdomen once he pulls your ass up and gives you what you say you want so bad. Your pussy stretches around his almost-impossible shaft and leaves a creamy ring around the base. Caleb swears he feels a vein in his temple burst when you’re reaching back to slow the abuse of his hips. You complain that he babies you, then you cry that it’s too much? With both of your wrists in one hand and your jaw in the other, he’ll teach you a lesson in follow through.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ “Mmf- Messy-plap-Fucking-plap-Brat. Can’t make up your mind, huh? Don’t worry, I’ve always known what’s best for you.”

xᴀᴠɪᴇʀ has a disastrously sensitive cock. Even through his boxers, his sweats and your leggings, he can feel how warm your little slit is. Each haughty rut of your crotch against his is making the air around him feel thicker and harder to swallow. A wet patch is forming on the tent in his lap, precum and the leaking of your pussy. Xavier feels dizzy, his twitching dick so painfully hard that your movements border on torture. He needs some kind of relief, but you just look so perfect grinding down on him like this. He can’t stop you now, when you’re whispering how close you are into the shell of his ear. Your back arches sharply, cunt pulsing against his shaft until he’s shooting into his pants- but he doesn’t mind. He’ll just flip you over and lick another orgasm out of your poor pussy until you’re screaming yourself hoarse and he’s ready to go again.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ “God, baby, you made such a mess of me. No, no, no— we’re not stopping until I return the favor.”

ʀᴀꜰᴀʏᴇʟ has the most beautiful cock you’ve ever seen. It’s perfect in every way, like it was made just for you. Long and just a bit thicker at the base, with a deep pink tip that always blushes under your awestruck stare. Your favorite place to kiss and nuzzle is the twin freckles on the underside of his shaft. You love curling up in between Rafayel’s legs on the floor while he’s sat spread on the couch. You kiss every inch of soft, delicate skin- covering his balls with your nipping and sucking first, then up his length and across his perfectly trimmed pubes. Rafayel, never one to deny you— even at the cost of his own sanity— might just pass out from the lack of blood in his brain. The only thing you love more than slathering spit and sticky lipgloss all over him, is the way he moans for more. So fucking pretty, so perfect.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ “Ah- ah- FUCK, you’re going to be the death of me, I need you so- ah- I need you so bad.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁

❥ ᴄʜɪᴡʜᴏʀᴇɪ.2025©️ ᴀʟʟ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢs ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ. Dᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ.

[madamechrissy]

Your best friend's dad Toji headcanons

Pairings: Toji Fushiguro x fem reader

Content warnings- ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS interacting with this, heavy NSFW! Big age gap (Toji late 30s, reader is 21) some manipulation (both of em lol) masturbation (toji) and oral sex (both recieving) obsessed Toji, the oneshot will be much more in detail lol. If you don't like Toji being called 'daddy' don't read lmao, taboo ass themes.

Gonna be a full oneshot, comment to get tagged when it drops!

Your best friend's dad Toji who used to be so affectionate, but the past couple years he's been... closed off, indifferent to you? He had Megumi so young, it was more like he played a big brother role, really, you used to talk to him about anything. But lately he just grumbles a hello and pats your head, much to your dismay.

Your best friend's dad Toji is so hot you've had this crush on him forever, but of course you try to hide it, and eventually you have it under wraps- when you're about nineteen or twenty you start catching his looks, the ones he doesn't think you see, and you may or may not wear next to nothing when you stay the night, just to sleepily smile at him in the morning, watching dark green eyes dilate.

Your best friend's dad Toji can't stop thinking of all the ways he'd treat you so good, when he listens to you crying about a break up, thinking these pathetic dudes probably couldn't even get you off, in fact he's sure that they haven't. You don't look well fucked, like you should, with your shy little smile and the way your tits just sway in those tank tops with no bras, driving him insane to no end, so that now he just avoids you.

Your best friend's dad Toji has lost how many times he's stroked his cock to the thought of you, especially when you sleep on the couch, you spend all kinds of time here instead of your dorm with your roommate who apparently always has guys over. More peaceful for you here, and instead of tucking you in he openly stares at your parted lips, at how your tank top twisted and your tit is almost out. He'd throw a blanket over you and head to his bed, stroking himself and trying to stifle the moans, picturing how he'd make you cum over and over again.

Your best friend's dad Toji has girls over at times, and you can't help but feel upset when you see them, which is so stupid, but here it is, these feelings that arise, knowing they're going on dates with him, wondering if he'll see you any other way. One day after a particular date he comes in the dark kitchen, startled to see you sitting in one of the seats, sipping on a beer. 'The fuck, doll do you ever go home? And are you old enough to drink this shit?' you uncross your legs, and damned if your shorts aren't loose enough that he sees a hint of your pussy. 'I'm more than old enough, you know, I'm Gumi's age' Toji scoffs, cracking open a beer and leaning against the counter 'yeah, a fuckin kiddo still'

Your best friend's dad Toji pauses with his lips almost to the bottle when you step closer, fingers trailing up his dress shirt, his dark hair falling over his brow as you tilt your head, looking at him for the first time how you've wanted to. You've lost count how many times you have played with your pussy, how many times under boys you pictured Toji instead. 'Did you get off, Mr. Fushiguro?' Toji sputters now, how you make a man like him speechless is diabolical. 'the fuck you say, doll?' Toji manages, and you smile as your hand trails lower. 'You've helped me so much, I could help you cum if you want' he scoffs, gripping your wrist then 'don't fuckin' tease me, won't end well for you'

Your best friend's dad Toji shows you just how well it ends, when you're on your knees in the kitchen, and he's shoving his cock deep in your eager mouth, fucking your throat so good tears prick your eyes. 'F-fuck... s-so good I.... shit...' he's stuttering, as you take his cock down your throat, your nails gripping at his thighs, looking up at him then. 'Gonna cum if you- stop, shit you-' you keep sucking his veiny length, throbbing and twitching as he yanks on your hair, pulling you off before he busts, just in time for the door to click, and you both seperate before a sleepy Megumi finds you.

Your best friend's dad Toji doesn't come to you like you'd expect, no he avoids the shit out of you even more, and soon you're imagining this was all some odd dream. He doesn't even acknowledge it, so you go back to dating your ex, and try not to come over anymore, Toji misses you, fuck he does, but he's trying to not engage with whatever demon mouth his kids bestie posesses. Toji even sees you out while he's on a date, his jaw locking when you're at the other table, young and seemingly in puppy love, your eyes lock when you see him, and Toji's date is fading into the background just a bit. When you get up to go to the bathroom, Toji excuses himself, just to come behind you and press you against the counter, barring you with his strong arms, as you murmur- 'Mr. Fushiguro..."

Your best friend's dad Toji mutters 'so did you get off on your lil date, doll? with the kid?' you hear it, the tenseness, the jealousy, as his huge, strong hands slip up your little black dress, and you whine out just a bit, before glaring. 'What if he did? what if he gets me off so good, Mr. Fushiguro- ah!' Toji's done with you then, he's got you turned so you see your own blush and glittering eyes in the mirror, slipping his hand down between your thighs and rolling rough fingertips on your clit, towering over you, taking over your senses in this bathroom. 'Bet he ain't got shit on me' he murmurs, before rolling your clit in circles and hearing you hiccup, whimper, head falling back as his other hand grips a breath 'tired of ya fucking teasing me' he then leaves you there, gasping and needy, sucking on his fingers and moaning about your taste.

Your best friend's dad Toji does not like it when you bring your boyfriend over, even if it is Megumi's other friend, not when you're sitting on his lap and kissing him while the three of you game, all giggling. He scowls right at you, only for you to give him a knowing little smile, one he thinks about fucking right off you, until you're just open mouthed and drooling. He's jerking his dick right off in the bathroom while the three of you spend time, endlessly thinking of positions he'd put his kid's best friend in, bend you over, drink your pretty pussy up, make you call him daddy. As his cum squirts out of his reddened, drooly tip, he exhales, trying to pull himself together, surely two can play at your stupid little game.

Your best friend's dad Toji starts to go to every one of Megumi's games now, he used to catch a few, but he loves to go every time because he knows you cheer for the team. You kiss your little boyfriend's cheek and bounce around in your cheerleading skirt, all while you see him with a new girl in the stand all the time, acting so unbothered by you. When you're asking Megumi about it, he shrugs muttering 'they don't come home after the games, maybe he's trying to look hot to the PTA moms? he's weird' huh you think to yourself, seeing his glint in narrowed eyes, which only makes you want him more, the shithead that he is.

Your best friend's dad Toji watches as you 'drop something' just to bend over in your cheer skirt, with nothing under it like it should be, making him lose his mind when you smile brightly at him, talking about a party all of you are going to after. Toji can't stand it when he's at home, waiting, imagining everything you're doing, fucking dying to have you, he jerks off so much it starts to hurt, and it's all your fault, which you would delight in knowing truly. When you come back over in the damn cheer outfit the next day, and Megumi isn't home yet, you sigh. 'Oh, then I'll come back later-' Toji stops you then, locking the door with a click. 'Oh you'll cum alright'

Your best friend's dad Toji has you up on his kitchen counter, thighs spread, pulling your panties up so that your wet spot darkens them, and he sees the plump lips of your pussy. 'real slutty, where's your shorts huh?' you smile at him, then gasp as he grips your chin, and your head falls back against the wall. 'I want you to see' you finally admit, and he glares at you. 'and why the fuck you torturing me!?' you gasp at him. 'it's you who torture me!' 'nah, doll, you know what you're doing, and I'm tired of it, gonna shut you the fuck up' Toji yanks your panties off as you gasp. 'gonna make you forget any dumb college boy has ever touched you' he says, before he sinks two thick digits, moaning as he watches your pretty face get fucked out.

Your best friend's dad Toji laps at your little clit, as your hands entwine in his inky hair, and he feels like it's so wrong, you're like at least sixteen years younger, your his kids best friend. Shit you practically lived here, but once he gets a taste of your slick pussy, he's done for. He's got you cumming all over his fingers in minutes, and you're drunk off it, as he keeps licking, scar brushing your inner lips as you pull him closer. "Mr. Fushiguro..." You're whining out, and he smirks, pulling back and spitting right on your pussy, watching it drip from your twitchy clit to your soppy little hole. 'don't call me that right now, not when you're about to cum all over my face again, huh?' you eagerly obey, earning his chuckle 'guess this is how I get you to listen'

Your best friend's dad Toji slurps up more of your cum, obscene in the little kitchen, and you're fucking his face, his fingers, all while his cock his throbbing in his sweats, and you're whispering 'Toji!' he slaps your pussy then, loud in the room, with wet sticky fingers, you scream out at it, cunt throbbing around nothing, ready to be filled by him. 'Please, please...' he chuckles again- 'please what, doll?' you're shattering as he scissors his fingers in and out of your soppy hole 'please fuck mee, please!' he moans against your cunt, rubbing himself where the precum has leaked out past his boxers and even to his sweats, nipping at your clit as you cum again. 'want me to actually fuck you, huh? show you how a man does it?' 'please Toji...'

Your best friend's dad Toji carries you to his bed, the place he so frequently pumps his cock to the thought of you, eyeing your already fucked out face, smirking down at you as he spreads your thighs. 'then need to ask me properly, huh doll?' you blink in confusion, as he leans over you, cock still under his clothes, gripping your wrists as you wriggle, aching for him. 'I said please though!' he presses a kiss to your lips, and you taste yourself on him, moaning into his mouth. 'say please 'daddy''

Comment if you wanna get tagged in this freaky shit lol

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[demonic0angel]

Twenty something year old Danny becomes a preschool teacher to a class of young meta and liminal kids, he helps to keep the kids calm when they discover their abilities and is genuinely one of the better teachers at the school. He's also a part-time member of the Justice League.

He's in the middle of a meeting when he gets a call from a freaked out substitute teacher saying one of the kids is stuck halfway through the wall and doesn't know what to do. Danny excuses himself and explains that one of his kids is having a small problem and he'll be right back and then leaves not realizing the chaos he left behind in his wake as the Justice League believe that Phantom has multiple kids and is a single father.

Phantom laughed nervously. “I need to pick this up real quick.” His phone continued to ring until Phantom had exited the meeting room.

However, he seemed to have forgotten to go far to avoid eavesdroppers or he was too worried to find somewhere else to pick up the call, because he only stopped behind the door to answer.

“What happened? Are they okay?” He said, sounding urgent. “Do I need to get there?”

“One of your kids is stuck!” Came a voice from the phone.

Everyone within the meeting room was leaning in, nosey as ever. Batman, who was presenting, was even tilting his entire body to the door, the only indication of his listening in.

The voice continued, “I’m so sorry, sir, I don’t know how to get them out! It’s causing a panic and no one can help me and all of the kids are crying for you!”

“How many are there? Are they all okay?”

The voice sniffled, clearly distressed and crying herself. “All ten of them are here. They’re all okay, it’s just that Etiel is stuck in the wall and no one can get him out. It’s freaking them all out.”

Phantom muttered, “Fiddlesticks. Okay, uhm. Try to calm them down, if you can. Can you find Cindy? She’s the most responsible, she’ll know what to do. And tell her that when I come back, I’ll make sure to reward her for her help. I’ll try to get there as fast as I can.”

Phantom then hung up the call after a few more words of encouragement and reassurance to the other person on the line. Then he hung up the call and came back into the room, looking apologetic. Everyone quickly pretended to be doing nothing.

Flash was holding seventeen new orders of fast food burgers, but Phantom was too distracted to notice.

“Is there something wrong?” Superman coughed awkwardly.

“Yes, I’m very sorry, but I have an emergency at home. Is it possible for me to get notes of the meeting later to review? I’m sorry— I know that this meeting had been planned for a while.”

Wonder Woman said, her voice very gentle, “Of course. We shall send you a review of the meeting in an email. Please, go home and rest assured. Take care of your little ones.”

Phantom blinked and then chuckled. “You heard that, huh? Thank you. I have to go now, so bye! Thanks again!” Without hesitation, he then flew off like a streak of light.

They were silent for a moment longer.

Then they all turned to Batman.

“Are you happy that you’re not alone in the club of single father with over 2 kids?”

“….. hn.”

Batman was determined to have more friends with kids and poor Phantom wasn’t going to know what hit him.

[manmuncher777]

Nanami basically has two personalities when it comes to your sex life. Sometimes you might behave certain ways to ensure you get the… treatement you want

Nanami is always a gentle and loving partner, his first priority being you and you well being. This is his soft dom side, pleasure dom even. He loves to worship you, and has no problem doing so. So on those evening where you’ve been so sweet for him, he cant help but lay you out on your shared bed, and give you everything you’ve ever wanted.

“Let me have you darling” he whispers against your neck, kissing the word into your sensetive skin. He’s memorised your skin like a map, permanently burned into his mind. He knows every little spot that makes you shiver and whine. Nipping gently on the spot just against your collarbone that has you quivering under his touch.

“You have me ken.” Your hands clinging onto his skin, trying to tug the shirt off of his toned body, needing to feel him.

“Eager darling?” He chuckles at your rushed hands, pulling the shirt over his head. He’ll let you do that, but other than that, he does all of the work. All for his pretty girl

Stripping you down, laying you on the bed. Eyes trailing over you like it was the last time he was going to see you like this. Savouring every inch of perfect skin he could see.

Wasting no time in kissing his way up you legs, never taking his eyes off of your beatific face, loving to see how he was making you feel. Making his way to where he needed to be.

Planting gentle kisses over your dripping pussy as you mewl beneath him.

“More ken~ please.”

Oh how well mannered you were, who was he to deny such a polite request?

No need to say anything, no wasting time. His tongue quickly finding its way through your folds, slurping up your juices.

Pretty nose bumping against your clit as he fucked you on his tongue, letting you buck your hops and tug on his hair in any way you needed

However, you soon found that Nanami had the ability to change, like the flick of a switch. Of course you were an angel in his eyes, but there were certain occasions where you would push your luck, and he needed to remind you that you were meant to be his well mannered wife, not a little brat.

“Ken~ m’ sorry” you cried out, begging. You had been begging him for hours now, the was no room for you to worry about how pathetic you were being, you didnt care. You just needed him.

“Too late for that my love.” That stern look forcing you into silence.

You had gotten a little bit too spoilt today, and Kento wasnt going to put up with your attitude. So here you were pathetically grinding against his thigh while he had his hands on your hips, stopping you from cumming every time you came close

You were quivering from the overstimulation of being brought to the edge so many times, tears streaming down you pretty face as you husband cooed at you. You had no idea he could be so … harsh. But there was something about his unforgiving attitude that had you craving him even more

“Please ken, m’so sorry. Please- let me cum” You cry out, hips rolling again and again, those waves of pleasure never stopping. The faint build of your orgasm once again.

You couldn’t keep up any more, pausing your hips to give your soaked cunt a moment to recover.

“I don’t recall telling you to stop darling.”

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

BLOCK ME OUT

rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: haunted by her ex’s cruel words, y/n wishes she could block herself out. but rafe sees her differently—like she hung the stars in the sky.

based on this ask !! thank you for this anon, apologies that it’s taken so long, but i hope it’s what you asked for and you enjoy it :) <3

(check out my other rafe cameron & drew starkey works here !!)

WARNINGS: appearance insecurities, angsty with a soft ending, soft!rafe, rafe thinking violent thoughts (nothing unusual😝), past emotionally/verbally abusive relationship (reader’s ex), crying, cursing, allusions to sex. (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 2k

THIRD PERSON +

Y/N stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, eyes tracing the features she had long since memorised yet never quite accepted. The fluorescent light above cast harsh shadows, making every perceived flaw stand out even more—the uneven texture of her skin, the way her cheeks seemed too full in certain angles but too hollow in others, the faint blemishes she could never quite cover no matter how much makeup she wore. Her fingers ghosted over her jawline, then moved to her lips, hesitating as if debating whether they were too thin or too full.

She sighed, dropping her hand and looking away. It didn’t matter. It never did.

“Y/N?”

Rafe’s voice echoed from the hallway, warm and familiar. He must have noticed how long she had been in here. She took a breath and composed herself before stepping out, her lips pulling into a small, forced smile.

“Hey,” she said casually.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her with that soft yet unreadable expression he sometimes had when he thought she wasn’t looking. His blue eyes flickered over her face, taking in every detail as if memorising it. She knew he was about to say something—probably a compliment, because he always did. And just like always, she prepared to ignore it.

“You look beautiful,” Rafe murmured, almost absentmindedly, as if it were the most obvious fact in the world.

Y/N scoffed quietly, shaking her head as she crossed the room. “No, I don’t.”

Rafe frowned slightly, his brows drawing together in concern, but he didn’t argue. He never did. Instead, he just watched as she climbed into bed beside him, her body curling up instinctively, as if trying to take up less space. He noticed that too.

It had started small, the little deflections. The way she would dismiss any compliment he gave her with a wave of her hand or a disbelieving laugh. At first, he assumed she was just being humble, but the more time he spent with her, the more he realized it was something else.

Something deeper.

A wound that hadn’t healed.

Rafe didn’t push. He didn’t ask. But he noticed.

Like the way her smile always faltered for just a second when someone called her pretty, as if the word physically pained her. Or how she always changed the subject when he told her she was beautiful, shifting the conversation so quickly it was almost seamless. If he wasn’t paying such close attention, he might’ve missed it.

But he was always paying attention.

Y/N knew she should appreciate Rafe’s compliments, knew that he wasn’t just saying them to be nice. But she couldn’t make herself believe them. Not after everything.

Not after him.

Her ex’s voice still lingered in the back of her mind like a ghost, whispering cruel words she could never quite erase.

“You really think you’re all that? God, Y/N, you’re so damn insecure it’s pathetic.”

“I don’t know why you even bother with makeup—it doesn’t help.”

“No one’s looking at you the way you think they are. You’re just… average.”

She had spent so much time believing those words, internalising them, letting them take root deep inside her until they became an unshakable truth. And now, even though he was gone, even though she had someone like Rafe in her life—someone who looked at her like she was the most breathtaking thing he’d ever seen—she still couldn’t silence that voice.

Rafe had never once made her feel anything less than wanted. He never criticised, never made offhanded comments that chipped away at her self-worth. But that didn’t mean she knew how to accept kindness when it was given to her.

She felt his fingers brush lightly against her arm, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“You tired?” he asked, voice low and gentle.

She nodded, grateful for the easy out. “Yeah. Just a long day.”

Rafe didn’t question it. He just reached over and pulled the blanket up over her, as if shielding her from whatever weight she was carrying. And maybe in his own way, he was.

She turned onto her side, facing away from him, but she could still feel his gaze on her, feel the warmth of his presence beside her.

For a moment, she let herself pretend that it was enough.

—

The night had started out perfectly.

Dinner was casual, nothing extravagant—just the two of them at his place, sitting across from each other, laughing between bites of food. It had been easy. Light. Y/N had almost felt normal, like the weight of her insecurities wasn’t pressing so hard against her ribs.

Rafe had been extra touchy that evening—his fingers brushing hers when he handed her a glass of wine, his palm resting at the small of her back as they moved through the house. Small touches, each one sending a shiver down her spine.

And now, here they were.

Y/N lay beneath him, the world shrinking to just the two of them, just the warmth of his body and the way his lips moved against hers like he couldn’t get enough. His hands skimmed her sides, slow and teasing, as if memorising every inch of her.

The air in the room had thickened, charged with something electric.

She should’ve been lost in it.

But she wasn’t.

Because the moment his fingers hooked under the hem of her shirt, inching it up over her ribs, that voice came creeping back.

“You think he really wants to see you?”

“You think he won’t notice how bad you look from this angle?”

“God, Y/N, you’re so damn insecure, it’s pathetic.”

She tensed.

Rafe noticed immediately.

His lips paused against her neck, and she felt his breath, felt the slight hesitation in his movements. “You okay?” he murmured, voice laced with concern.

Y/N forced a nod, forcing herself to push through it. Don’t ruin this. Don’t overthink it. Just let him love you.

But then his hands moved again, slipping beneath the fabric, and panic surged through her like a tidal wave.

Suddenly, she wasn’t here anymore. She was back in that old apartment, standing under fluorescent lighting as her ex tilted his head and examined her with a critical gaze.

“Your stomach isn’t as flat as you think.”

“I mean, yeah, you look good from the right angle, but not always.”

“Don’t get mad. I’m just being honest.”

Her breath hitched. The room felt smaller. Her chest ached.

She didn’t even realise she was shaking until Rafe pulled back, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Y/N?” His voice was softer now, laced with something she couldn’t place. “Talk to me, baby.”

But she couldn’t.

Because she was already spiralling.

She shoved at his chest lightly, needing space, needing air. And Rafe—sweet, perceptive Rafe—moved immediately, sitting back on his heels, giving her exactly what she needed. But even with the distance, she couldn’t breathe right.

“I—I can’t do this,” she choked out, her throat tightening. “I just—I don’t—”

Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, blurring her vision. She felt pathetic, completely unravelling in front of him over something so stupid.

But Rafe didn’t move, didn’t rush her. He just watched her, eyes scanning her face like he was trying to piece together what had broken.

She ran a shaky hand through her hair, her breaths coming faster. “I just—” Her voice cracked, and she squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t feel good enough for you.”

The confession slipped out before she could stop it, and suddenly, the dam broke.

Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she covered her face with her hands, ashamed of how easily she was falling apart.

“Y/N…”

She felt the mattress dip as Rafe moved closer, but he didn’t touch her. He just waited.

Waited for her to speak.

Waited for her to let him in.

She sniffled, wiping at her tears, but more came. “I—I don’t get how you could look at me like you do,” she whispered. “I don’t get how you could actually—” She sucked in a shaky breath. “How you could actually want this.”

Rafe’s brows furrowed, confusion and pain flashing across his face. “What are you talking about?”

She let out a wet, bitter laugh. “I see myself, Rafe. I see what I look like from different angles. I know what people see.”

Rafe was shaking his head before she even finished speaking. “You don’t know what I see.”

She swallowed hard. “I just—” Her voice trembled. “I worry that… that you’re not actually attracted to me. That you just think you are.”

The silence stretched between them, heavy and thick.

And then, softly, carefully, Rafe asked, “Why do you think that?”

She exhaled shakily, dropping her gaze.

She didn’t want to tell him. She didn’t want to open that box. But he deserved to know.

“My ex,” she finally whispered. “He… he made sure I knew what was wrong with me. All the time.”

Rafe went rigid.

She saw it—the way his jaw clenched, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides. He inhaled sharply through his nose, forcing himself to stay calm, but she could see the fire behind his eyes.

“Y/N,” he said, voice low and steady, like he was trying to keep himself from falling apart. “Tell me what he said to you.”

Her throat felt tight, but she forced the words out. “He told me I wasn’t as pretty as I thought. That my body wasn’t as nice as I thought. That I only looked good from certain angles.” Her voice cracked. “And I believed him.”

Rafe exhaled sharply, looking away, his hands gripping the sheets like he was barely holding himself together. She could see the anger simmering beneath his skin, the way he wanted to break something, to scream, to hurt the person who had done this to her.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he turned back to her, and when he spoke again, his voice was full of something even stronger than rage.

Love.

“Y/N,” he said, his tone soft but firm. “I need you to listen to me.”

She swallowed hard, nodding weakly.

He cupped her face gently, his thumbs brushing away her tears. “You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. And not just from certain angles. Always.”

She tried to look away, but he didn’t let her.

“You think I don’t notice the way you brush off my compliments? The way you never believe me when I tell you how fucking perfect you are?” His voice wavered slightly, but he kept going. “It kills me, Y/N. It kills me that someone made you feel like this. That someone convinced you that you weren’t enough.”

More tears welled in her eyes. “Rafe…”

“No.” His voice was raw now, his emotions spilling over. “You are everything to me. Everything. And I don’t just want you—I crave you. Every part of you. Every inch of you. I don’t care what angle, what lighting, what bullshit insecurity you think you have—I love all of it. Because it’s you.”

Her lip trembled. “But what if—”

“No what-ifs,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “You are enough. You are more than enough.”

She broke.

Sobs wracked her body, and Rafe pulled her into his arms, holding her like he would never let go. He whispered into her hair, his voice soothing and warm, telling her over and over again how perfect she was, how much he loved her, how much she meant to him.

And for the first time in a long time, she wanted to believe him.

Because when Rafe Cameron looked at her, he didn’t see flaws. He didn’t see imperfections.

He saw the stars.

And maybe, just maybe, she could learn to see them too.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was such a cute and emotional one :’) i had this written up before i went away but finally got to editing it, just spending eh next couple days editing and posting the requests in my drafts !!

i hope this is what you asked for anon !! and as always, likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated :) don’t hesitate to request <3

[apricotbuncakes]

[ID: Screenshot of Tumblr tags that read "#sigh this is the universe sending me a message (I'm on day 8 of binding for like 13 hours every day) #and i wonder why it hurts to breath #aaaaaaa #gender shit" End ID]

Ooooookaaaaaaah, big brother time.

So. Here are some things that I have learned to help me not bind as much. Note how I didn't claim this will make you less dysphoric. These won't work for everyone, but they did work for me.

1) Use neutral language about your breasts. Not like gender neutral language (though that may help too). What I mean is don't use negative language like "I hate my chest" or "my chest is bad". Yes I know those phrases are basic. But framing your chest in a neutral way may help you to not see it as a chore that needs maintained constantly and may help you feel less guilty about not binding or 'preforming' your gender (aka: presenting in a way that others expect).

2) Remember that you don't owe anyone a certain look or level of effort from your body. Not binding because it hurts and or you can't/don't want to doesn't mean you 'aren't trying hard enough' or 'aren't really trans'. If anyone tells you otherwise, they're a fucking dick who doesn't care about your health and you shouldn't care about them or their opinion. Your health and safety is more important than the approval of some dick whose allyship is conditional to you being the perfect tranny for them. And I mean that with all the love I'm my heart: If someone thinks you performing their ideal version of you is more important than you being safe and healthy, They 👏 Don't 👏 Deserve 👏 Your 👏 Love 👏 Or 👏 Attention! 👏 👏 👏

3) Don't bind at home in your room. Get used to being topless in your room. Literally, I've been topless in my room since my second year of highschool. I actually get a sense of euphoria from not having to wear a shirt in an environment where it's completely legal to do so. It's part of how I reframed how I look at my chest. I no longer hate myself for having a large chest, though I know I'll still feel so much happier when I have top surgery next month.

4) Have a 'lazy' binder. For me, that's a 'binder' that is loose and comfortable. It doesn't necessarily 'bind' me, but it's not a bra either. Ideally you have a nice binder and a lazy binder, but if you can only afford one, a loose tank top can also substitute as a lazy binder for you to wear under your shirts. This lazy binder is for you to put on when you can't bind 'properly' but you still need your brain to accept that you've 'put in the effort'. It's a lot less restrictive, but still provides enough support that your chest doesn't feel completely exposed.

5) Convince yourself that other people are just unobservant. Make a list of qualities that you consider gender affirming, and if someone misgenders you, think of that list and tell yourself "Pssh! That person is so dumb for not noticing [list of gender affirming qualities] that clearly signal I'm [gender identity here]." Don't remind yourself that you aren't binding or punish yourself for not 'doing better'. Just pretend that other people are ignoring the very obvious signs of you being your gender. (Literally, this has prevented me from crying at work).

6) If you can't take off your binder (because you're at work or school or wherever), try putting it on later in the day instead of trying to take it off before your event is scheduled to end. Wear extra layers when you go to wherever it is and then slip off the the bathroom to put it on. That way you don't use some of your binding time during the commute to the event.

Or if you're like me, get really good at putting on your binder under your clothes. You probably shouldn't be able to do that, but some people are also broke like me and can't afford to get a new binder every time the old one gets a little stretched out. I get it.

Final reminder that your health and safety is just as important as your joy and euphoria. Binders are a tool to help us achieve euphoria, but like any other tool they can hurt you when used incorrectly. Take care of yourself. Listen to your body.

This is coming from someone who learned too little too late that binding incorrectly will seriously hurt you. I can barely bind for more than a couple hours now without feeling some kind of discomfort, and some days I can't bind at all because it just hurts that bad to wear a binder. Do not follow in my footsteps. Please take better care of yourself than I did.

Fact #1047: The advice to not bind your chest for more than 8 hours at the time is not some transphobic conspiracy to foce you to experience dysphoria. It is advice given to you for your own safety. As mentally uncomfortable it might be to be without a binder, physically you need to give your ribcage a break.

[mybelovedsylus]

Another day another smutty drabble. You know the drill, no minor interactions please. I’m a Sylus girlie who still quite enjoyed the unhinged Caleb - so I got to thinking. Sylus would definitely want to make sure Caleb knew that you were taken - granted a little OOC cause he likes these intimate moments to be private, but I couldn’t get the idea of him calling Caleb while fucking MC to prove a point… so well that’s what this shit is and that’s your warning. Hope you like it - not edited as always. I'm still working on my smut writing too so forgive me

_______________________________________________________________________________________

Sylus knew he was a possessive motherfucker. Of that he had no doubt, but if he did he knew for sure when he had your ankles draped loosely over his shoulder as your phone dialed next to your head on speakerphone.

"You can not be serious right now," you gasped, hands clutching against nothing as Sylus' evol kept them pinned to the bed. Couldn't have you hanging up prematurely now could we? Not when there was a point to be proven.

"Pipsqueak, what's up?"

Sylus sneered as soon as he picked up, like that wasn’t exactly what his intention was. He looked from the phone to you and raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to respond. As you opened your mouth, he slammed all the way home causing a moan to rip out of your throat, which you were quick to try and muffle by biting down hard on your lip. Sylus looked downright gleeful, the red of his eyes practically glowing.

"You okay over there?" Caleb's voice came through gentle but questioning.

"Ye-yeah, just stubbed my toe?" you gasped out but it sounded unsure. Well now that wouldn't do. Sylus leaned down, essentially folding your knees into your chest, which in turn pushed him even further into you which you couldn't help but groan at. His mouth latched on to your peaked nipple, flicking and tweaking it as his hand reached up to lavish the other with similar attention.

"You must have really stubbed it good, do you need me to bring dinner and some medical aid?" Caleb offers sweetly.

"NO!"

There's silence on the line and you glare as Sylus chokes back a laugh as he leans back, resuming a lazy pace and wiping the hair out of your eyes. The sweet gesture is a stark contrast to the debauchery happening here. Sylus is drawing it out, giving slow lazy thrusts that drag every vein and inch over your sensitive spots, dragging you closer and closer to that precipice. You need Caleb to hang the fuck up before that happens.

"I appreciate the - fuck - offer, but really I'll be okay."

You know it comes out like phone sex, airy and deep, but that's because it's like Sylus can read my mind and is trying to get me over the peak as quick as he can - like he wants Caleb to hear just what he does to me. This possessive motherfucker - but also what does that say about you that you find yourself getting wetter at the idea?

"Uh, okay, was that all you called to tell me? That you stubbed your toe, but otherwise you are fine?" Caleb asked. You could tell he didn't believe a word of what you were trying to sell.

"Mhm," you gasp out as Sylus draws tight circles over your clit, picking up the pace of his thrusts. You are starting to wonder if the slap of skin and the rough slide through your wetness is echoing on the phone like it is in your ears.

"Okay," he draws out, suspicion evident in his tone, "I'm just gonna let you go then."

It's too late though. Between the bruising and pistoning pace,and the flicking of your clit, there's not much you can do to hold it back. You try to bite your lip to hold the noises at bay, but Sylus pulls it free with his other hand. He holds your cheeks in a grasp that holds your mouth open, and you cry his name out as your vision goes white and everything in your body pulls taught with your orgasm. He laughs breathlessly, leaning down to suck at the skin of your neck. He turns his head slightly towards the phone, groaning out your name as his hips stutter and he meets you at the peak. He leans more deeply on you, keeping the two of you joined as he reaches over for the phone.

"Aw, looks like your “gege” hung up," he mutters, tossing your phone off the bed as he looks down at you with what you can only say is a boyish smile.

"You are such a possessive asshole, oh my god, how am I ever supposed to look him in the eye again?"

"You can protest all you want, but you were gushing- looks to me like my kitten might have a bit of an exhibitionist in her," Sylus responds with a sly grin, his hand giving a lazy tweak to your overabused clit that makes you jump. You try to pull away and he makes a tsk noise as he follows, ensuring he remains firmly within the snug confines of your walls.

"Where do you think you're going, when did I say I was done with you?"

[sguidwards-bestfriend]

Im imagining Tim going up to Danny early in the morning as they walk to breakfast. Danny isn't entirely awake and he plans to ask everyone not to touch him today.

Before he can, he hears a voice say, "Happy birthday bud".

Tim touches his hair just barely, the second his fingertips touch a single strand, he goes stiff, his arms pulling in and his breath getting stuck in his throat. He drops and can't hear anything.

Tim, to his knowledge, appears in a basement. The corners of the room seem fuzzy, even when he looks right at them. The whole room seems to tilt towards a hole in the wall.

He's seen enough cults and magic deficient cookoos to know it's an attempt at a non magical portal.

Suddenly 3 people appear in the middle of a conversation, three teens, probably 8th or 9th graders.

A goth girl, white, dyed hair, big boots.

A kid in a beret, black, nails cut short, holding a highly modified pda.

And Danny, he looks less tired, no bags under his eyes, his hair is freshly washed, he's wearing a black and white jump suit.

The soles of the shoes he's wearing are thick, probably rubber. It makes him walk clunky, like they were bought for him to grow into.

He can't make out what they are talking about. The Goth girl sticks a logo onto Danny and smiles.

They seem to egg him on to do... something with the portal, based on where they are looking.

Danny turns and steps towards it, his foot steps echoing loudly in the metal room. Tim gets closer aswell. As he does, he sees how the inside of the portal has wires thrown everywhere.

As he turns, he notices some things wrong with the basement. Open tube's of green goop, no place to wash hands or clean out any eyes, there is no safety equipment in this room, and the entrance is just a stair we'll up, so the likely hood that it's all in the entrance is nearly null.

There are weapons strewn across the table. They don't seem to even have a safety. Much less have said safety on.

Then Tim feels a horrible shock run through him, he feels his body tighten and spasm uncontrollably. There is an echo of people screming.

He's screaming.

So much screaming his throat feels ripped apart.

The pain is unbearable. He can feel each of his nerves firing off all at once.

Cold

Heat

Cold

Burning

Cold

So cold

Finally his muscles release and he drops to the ground.

The room is glowing a sickly green when he sits up. Disoriented, he turns to where the glow is coming from.

His portal theory is correct, he watches as a smoking hand comes out. The rest of the body comes stumbling after.

A white haired boy looking down, with his other hand over his heart, steps forward from the portal, another jumpsuit, this one it's colors inverted to what Danny was wearing.

Danny was in there. Is this?

The white haired boy looks up, lacking the blue Tim has known for a few months now.

Danny looks up.

His skin smokes and his eyes swirl with the green that Tim has only seen in Jason's eyes.

Tim tries to stand, to get between this infected Danny and the other two kids.

Danny walks right through him. His footsteps make no sound as he falls into the kids arms. They're screaming his name.

He's not breathing. They check his pulse, and he sees the beret kid start to cry.

The goth girl looks like she's about to start screaming for help when Danny glows white.

The light blinds him in an instant and when he's blinking the spots out of his eyes he sees Danny in their arms, hair once again dark, and still like a corpse.

Then the scene repeats.

He's on the other side of the room, they start to talk.

This time he sees the clock, way to high to be easy to see.

2pm sharp.

Not in school, so it might be the weekend. But wouldn't Danny's parents hear? Wouldn't anyone notice the definite electrical surge a portal like this opening would cause?

Summer break then, possibly. Less people, parents out running errands or at their job. A summer storm in another town could cause a surge as well.

The basement might be there work place, or it's a hobby, based on how unsafe the lab seems.

Tim knows he doesn't know much about Danny's previous life. Why he came to the Wayne's, why he screams at night, why he seems to act odd around Jason.

He feels wrong seeing this without Danny's permission, but untill he gets out of this loop he can't do anything about that.

This time he simply watches.

Watches as Danny steps into the hole that houses the portal.

Watches as Danny trips and tries to grab hold of the wall.

Watches as the whir of the internal system starts and the green engulfs Danny.

The pain hits him again and he can't think.

Cold, hot, too cold, too hot, freezing, frozen, going to die.

He drops and this time he sees Danny's silhouette floating amongst the green.

He watches as the hands finds it's way to the edge.and pulls him out.

Sees as Danny steps out but doesn't touch the ground.

He floats, not the way Kon does, with confidence and strength. He floats like he hates it, like he's struggling to keep his feet on the ground.

Tim watches the girl, she grimaces when she looks down to the logo she'd stuck to his chest. The black sticker inverted to white, clearly readable.

She feels guilty.

The boy is crying horribly, gripping Danny and trying to check every pulse point to see I anything changes.

When the white light hits, he knows to keep his eyes closed for the spike.

As he opens the he sees, this time, what he missed the first. He's breathing again. It's shallow and stilted but he IS breathing.

Again the scene starts over.

Transference

Dpxdc prompt #39

Deaths don't relive their deaths on their death anniversary.

No that would be too easy.

Instead, anyone who touches a ghost on their death day relives that ghost's death. Over and over again until the day passes.

Danny knows this of course, how could he possibly forget. Jazz tried to shake him awake on his very first anniversary. She went into a state of shock, not moving until the clock passed midnight at which point she started crying and hugging Danny like he'd dissappear the moment she let go.

It wasn't something he particularly wanted to happen again.

Ever.

Only problem is he forgot to inform his new family of this development and a quick head ruffle by an older brother quickly turns into a nightmare.

[arcadia-smith]

Unrequited love. (I will always think that this is something that breaks hearts painfully slow)

Simon Riley x Reader.

You’ve always known that loving Simon Riley was a dangerous thing. Not because of the nightmares that clawed at his mind or the ghosts that followed him like a shadow. No, it was dangerous because he never saw you the way you saw him.

And maybe that was your fault. Maybe you should have walked away before the feelings sank in too deep, before your heart curled around him like ivy, clinging even when it hurt.

But you never did.

Not when he smiled at you, a rare thing that made your chest ache. Not when he held you close after missions, his breathing unsteady, as if he needed to remind himself that you were still there. And certainly not when he whispered your name like a prayer in the quiet hours of the night.

It was easy to believe you meant something to him.

Until her.

She was everything you weren’t. Soft laughter and bright eyes, warmth in the way she touched him, an ease in how she held his attention. And he looked at her the way you had spent years looking at him.

You remember the exact moment you knew.

It wasn’t when he first mentioned her name, or even when he started spending more time away. It was when he showed up at your door, eyes shining in a way you’d never seen before.

“She said yes,” he breathed, almost disbelieving.

And you smiled.

God, you smiled so wide it hurt, because that’s what friends do. They don’t break apart in front of the people they love. They don’t let the cracks show.

So you pulled him into a hug, let him crush you in his arms as he whispered about how happy he was. You buried your face into his shoulder, blinking back the sting in your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat.

Because he never looked at you like that.

And he never would.

—

You don’t go to the wedding.

You have an invitation, of course. It sits untouched on your counter, the elegant lettering spelling out his name alongside hers, mocking you every time you pass it.

Soap calls. Gaz texts. They ask if you’re coming, if you’re okay, if you need anything. You lie through your teeth, tell them you’re sick, that you’re busy, that you don’t want to intrude.

Simon doesn’t call.

You don’t think he notices your absence until much later.

Maybe it’s when the party winds down, when he’s alone for the first time in hours, when the realization creeps in like a whisper.

Maybe it’s when he looks around the reception, searching for you without even realizing he’s doing it. When he catches Soap's somber expression, the way Gaz avoids his gaze.

Maybe it’s not until years later, when the honeymoon phase fades and real life settles in. When he finds himself thinking of you in quiet moments, wondering why you aren’t around as much anymore, why it feels like something is missing.

You relocate. A different base. A different team.

You relocate to spare yourself.

—

Years Later

The news reaches him too late.

Simon is sitting in the common hall, watching the rain streak down the window, when his phone buzzes. He answers out of habit, not expecting much.

Soap's voice is quiet. Too quiet.

He barely hears the words over the rushing in his ears.

A mission gone wrong. Too much blood lost before help arrived. You were alone, left behind by your new team.

Gone.

The funeral is small. Simple. He doesn’t speak. Just stands at the back, hands clenched into fists, watching as they lower the casket into the ground.

Soap stands beside him, but no one else does. Not her. Not his wife. She hadn’t asked where he was going, and he hadn’t told her.

Because how could he explain it? How could he explain the way his ribs felt like they were caving in, the way his lungs burned with every breath? How could he explain that this loss felt different than any other?

He doesn’t cry.

He doesn’t say goodbye.

He just stands there, watching as they cover you with dirt, as the last piece of you disappears from his sight.

And for the first time, he wonders if maybe—just maybe—he loved you all along.

But now, he’ll never get the chance to tell you.

And that is the worst part of all.

—

Months Later

It happens on a quiet night.

Simon is going through old boxes in the closet, looking for something long forgotten. His wife is asleep in the next room, unaware.

He’s sifting through old mission reports, books, scraps of things that don’t matter—until he finds it.

A letter.

His name is scrawled across the front in your handwriting, the ink slightly smudged, like you hesitated before writing it.

He shouldn’t open it. He knows that.

But he does anyway.

His hands shake as he unfolds the paper. The words blur in front of his eyes, but he forces himself to focus.

Sim,

I don’t know if I’ll ever send this. Maybe it’s just for me. But if you’re reading it, then I guess I wasn’t brave enough to say it out loud.

I loved you. I loved you in all the ways a person could love someone. And I never told you because I knew—God, I knew you didn’t feel the same. And that’s okay. I never expected you to.

I just wanted you to know.

I hope she makes you happy. I hope she gives you the kind of love I always wished I could.

And I hope, someday, I stop wishing things had been different.

—Y/N

The paper crumples in his grip.

His chest is too tight, his throat burning as he squeezes his eyes shut.

Because fuck.

He should have known.

Should have seen it.

But it’s too late.

It’s too late, and you’re gone, and all he has left is the ghost of what could have been.

And maybe that’s the cruelest part of all.

[harunayuuka2060]

*The dorm leaders woke up confused; staring at Kalim's empty bed.*

Leona: That dumb bastard— Did he go out again?

Riddle: We should go search for him right away!

Malleus: Hold on. I hear a commotion outside.

"Poor thing—he was killed before the hunt."

"We should have seen it coming. He was foolish."

"I wonder if they’ll let us preserve his body."

"Don’t even think about it. He’s been getting on everyone’s nerves. I’m sure it’s already been mutilated by now."

The dorm leaders: ...

Riddle: *was about to rush outside when Leona grabbed him*

Riddle: Let go of me, Leona-senpai!

Leona: What? Do you want to follow him to his grave?

Riddle: ...

Vil: ...

Vil: We should call the fake Prefect to find out what happened.

Malleus: There's no need.

MC(?): *opens the door to the room*

MC(?): I'm here to deliver the unfortunate news of your friend's passing.

Idia: You... I know you're on our side. Why didn’t you do anything to help him?

MC(?): He violated the rules.

Riddle: THAT'S ALL YOU COULD SAY?!

Azul: Riddle!

Riddle: *has grabbed them by the collar* Did you just stand by and watch while he was being killed?!

MC(?): I understand... your sadness...

Azul: Riddle! *pulling him away from them*

Riddle: LET ME GO, AZUUUL!!!

MC(?): ...

Malleus: You should leave now.

MC(?): I'm sorry that it has come to this. *they said as they left the room*

*Riddle continued to cry over Kalim's death while Azul tried to comfort him. The rest of the dorm leaders remained silent.*

Professor Trein(?): *staring at MC(?)*

Professor Trein(?): It must have been difficult.

MC(?): What are you trying to say?

Professor Trein(?): You killed him.

MC(?): ...

Professor Trein(?): Soon, it will cause an imbalance. You knew that, didn’t you?

MC(?): ...

MC(?): I'm fortunate... that his presence isn't as significant as the others.

Professor Trein(?): Even so, this should be the first and last time. If you try to intervene again, their patience will run out.

MC(?): Yes... I appreciate your concern.

Leona(?): Look at them. Is his death that big of a deal? *chuckles*

Vil(?): Shouldn't they feel relieved that a heavy burden has been lifted off their shoulders? I don't understand the need to mourn.

Malleus: We need to see the body.

Leona(?): Body? Hmm... That would be hard... *smirks* Unless you enjoy solving puzzles, you're free to collect his parts.

Malleus: *glares at him*

Leona(?): *chuckles*

Idia: Malleus... Please calm down.

Malleus: ...

Malleus: If you tell me the location, I'll go and collect them myself.

Leona(?) and Vil(?): ...

Leona(?): Huh. Very well.

Vil(?): Leona—

Leona(?): It's fine. He wants the scraps. Let him.

Azul: I hate to admit it, but this place is unexpectedly decent.

Idia: ...

Idia: Hey, Malleus. Have you noticed something?

Malleus: Yes.

Leona: What are you two whispering about?

Malleus: The doppelgangers, they didn't follow us here.

Vil: You're right.

Riddle: I could see Kalim from a distance...

Leona: Ha... Did someone sew him back up?

Vil: Leona.

Malleus: ...

Malleus: *approaches the corpse*

Malleus: ...

Malleus: Rosehearts, come here.

Riddle: Malleus-senpai?

Malleus: There is something you need to see.

Riddle: ...

Riddle: *comes over*

Malleus: Do you notice anything?

Riddle: ...

Malleus: Look closely.

Riddle: ...

Malleus: *sigh* This is not Al Asim.

Riddle: Huh?

Leona: What?

Vil: What's going on?

Leona: The lizard bastard, he's saying that it's not Kalim.

The rest of the dorm leaders: ...

Riddle: Malleus-senpai, are you saying...

Malleus: *smiles* We've been tricked.

The rest of them: !!!

Kalim: MC, are you sure it's okay for me to leave alone? Won't you get punished?

MC(?): *has led him to the cave Jamil(?) told them last time*

MC(?): ...

MC(?): You are the weakest in your group.

Kalim: Haha... Sorry. I think that's why you saved me from him.

Kalim: But if you could fight, why have you been allowing them to treat you like that?

MC(?): ...

MC(?): Here. Leave the key.

Kalim: Okay.

MC(?): ...

MC(?): The others will follow suit... I just need more time for that to happen.

Kalim: ...

Kalim: *smiles* *hugs MC*

MC(?): !!!

Kalim: I... I will also call for help!

MC(?): ...

MC(?): Please be on your way.

Kalim: Hm! Take care of the others for me!

MC(?): ...

MC(?): I will try my best.

[koyagifs]

𝓹.𝓼 𝓲 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾

pairing: san x reader au: idol | best friends to lovers | genre: fluff word count: 3.4 k synopsis: throughout the years you and san sent letters to each other even with his busy lifestyle as an idol. The love letters he never knew until you handed him the last one in person. warning(s): fluff, sweet tooth rotting - literally will get cavities.

October 24, 2018

dear sannie, you've done it!! you debuted!! i couldn't have be a much prouder friend. You looked amazing on stage and in your music videos. Seeing you live your dream brings me much joy. College just started for me and im already nervous to not have you here beside me. You won't forget me right?

love, yn

San smiled at the letter, his heart swelling with warmth. He could almost hear your voice as he read it, the familiar way you always cheered him on, even from afar. Around him, his members noticed the soft expression on his face and couldn’t resist teasing him.

"What’s got you all mushy, San?" Wooyoung smirked, leaning over to peek at the letter.

San quickly folded it, keeping it close to his chest. "Just an old letter from a friend," he said, but the fondness in his tone gave him away.

"A friend, huh?" Yunho chimed in, raising an eyebrow. "You’ve been smiling at that thing for ten minutes. Must be a pretty special friend."

"She is," San admitted softly, his gaze lingering on the folded paper.

The teasing continued, but San didn’t mind. To him, that letter was more than just words on a page—it was a reminder of you, the person who had always believed in him, no matter how far apart you were. And in that moment, he felt closer to you than ever.

January 31, 2021

Dear Sannie, Congratulations on your first Bonsang! my roommate and i watched it, she's a huge fan by the way. I couldn't help but cry ha - i can already hear you call me a big baby. I can't help it. You and your members deserved the win and so much more. I hope you're doing well. Your parents had invited me over for spring break saying you'll be there. I hope i get to see you there ~

love, yn

San felt guilt creep on him when he read your letter. He had told his parents that he would try to make it for break but unknowningly had such a busy schedule (more like year) .

Spring break had come and gone, and he hadn't been able to make it home like he had promised. Promotions, rehearsals, and countless other commitments had eaten up his time. His parents had told him you were looking forward to seeing him, but it hurt him to know he had let you down, even though you likely understood.

He thought back to the letter you had sent him—your words still fresh in his mind. Your gentle, supportive tone had made him feel even worse. He knew you weren’t upset or angry, but that didn’t stop the guilt from gnawing at him. Your understanding was something he cherished, but it also made him feel even more responsible for not being able to fulfill his promise.

July 9, 2021

Dear Sannie, i saw your company confirm that you have covid. I hope you're well and getting plenty of rest. I'm worried about you, thankfully your mom is very assuring. It's been so long since we last seen each other and i think im officially have choi san withdrawals. haha only took like 4 years to have withdrawals from your annoying ass. in all seriousness, i truly do miss you san. i graduate soon, you'll be there right?

love, yn

San’s heart sank as he read your letter. The warmth of your words mixed with the concern you expressed about his health made him feel both comforted and guilty. He knew you must’ve been worried when the news of his diagnosis broke, and the last thing he wanted was to cause you any additional stress. He had been keeping a low profile, resting as much as he could, but your message reminded him of how much he missed you and how badly he wanted to be there for you.

He leaned back on his bed, sighing softly. It had been too long, and your humor—your way of bringing light to everything—was something he dearly missed. He smiled at the thought of your "Choi San withdrawals" comment, shaking his head at how much you loved to tease him. Even now, you were still able to make him laugh, even when he was feeling miserable.

July 6,2024

Your fingers were clenched around the straps of your tote bag, the weight of the letters inside feeling oddly heavy, despite being just paper. The photocard of San and Sandeoki tucked inside the bag was a small comfort, but the true contents were the letters you had written to him over the years—letters you never had the courage to send.

You had written them during moments of missing him, of wondering when you'd see him again, or just to express things you never got to say in person. Some were long, filled with stories and updates, others short and simple. But all of them were filled with love, concern, and a longing that had never truly gone away, no matter how much time passed.

Today, you decided, would be the day to let him read them. Maybe it was the fact that you had so much PTO saved up, or maybe it was just the need to reconnect after all this time. But either way, you were determined to surprise him.

You couldn’t believe it. You were in the front row, the best seat you could ever have hoped for, and the adrenaline was almost too much to handle. The energy from the crowd was contagious, buzzing through the air like electricity. The excitement around you was palpable, fans chattering and eagerly looking for their favorite idols. You felt like you were in a dream, surrounded by the cheers and anticipation.

And then, it happened.

The moment you’d been waiting for was finally here. You could feel the air in the room shift as the members made their way down the stage, waving and smiling at everyone, their energy infecting the crowd. The cheers grew louder, but amidst it all, your heart was beating so fast you thought it might explode. The closer they got, the more real the situation felt—and the more nervous you became.

Your row was the first to head up for their interaction, and now you found yourself standing up, unsure if your legs would support you. You clutched your hands together, trying to calm your nerves, but your heart was thudding in your chest. You had prepared yourself for this moment, but now that it was here, everything felt like a blur.

As you walked towards them, your gaze instinctively found him—San. He was closer now, his smile warm and genuine as he interacted with the fans ahead of you. You could hardly believe it. The boy who had been such a big part of your life, now right in front of you. Your mind was racing, and everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The cheering around you, the music playing softly in the background—it all faded as you focused solely on him.

Mingi’s playful tone made you laugh, and your nerves eased a little as you settled into the moment. You had always enjoyed Mingi’s energy, his teasing and carefree nature making interactions like this feel lighthearted. As he signed your album, his eyes twinkled with mischief.

"Yn, you said... hm..." he hummed thoughtfully, looking up at you. "Tell San that he's a lucky guy~" he continued with a wink, his teasing tone drawing out a laugh from you.

You couldn’t help but smile, a small blush creeping up your cheeks at his comment.

he playful banter made the nervous energy you had carried with you melt away, replaced by the warmth of his friendly presence.

Mingi handed your album back to you, his signature neatly added to the cover, before squeezing your hand lightly. "I’m glad you’re here, Yn. It’s been too long. Let’s make sure you get to see San properly later. He’s been talking about you a lot lately, actually."

Your heart skipped at his words, a mix of curiosity and excitement stirring within you. Mingi’s smile softened for a moment before he winked again, clearly enjoying the way he was getting to you.

"Don’t keep him waiting, hm?" he added teasingly.

Hongjoong’s eyes widened the moment he saw you, and the surprise was written all over his face. He stopped mid-signature, staring at you for a moment as if trying to process what was happening. It was clear that he recognized you, and that realization made the moment feel even more surreal.

"So, you're the long lost bestie, hm?" Hongjoong teased, a playful smirk forming on his lips. His tone was light, but there was a warmth in his eyes, like he was genuinely happy to see you again.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction, the familiarity of his teasing making you feel right at home. "You can say that," you replied with a grin, shaking your head at how easily he had caught onto the situation. You hadn’t expected him to recognize you so quickly, but Hongjoong was always the type to notice the little details.

His eyes softened as he leaned forward slightly, clearly amused but also curious. "San’s been talking about you a lot, you know," he added with a wink, almost as if it was a secret he was letting slip.

Hongjoong’s smile widened at your words, and there was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he waved a staff member over. "I’m sure it’s all good things," he said with a wink, clearly enjoying the playful dynamic between the two of you. His attention shifted momentarily as he muttered something to the staff member, gesturing toward you.

You couldn’t help but feel a little curious, but you smiled at Hongjoong’s antics, knowing it was all in good fun. "It’s really nice to meet you too, Hongjoong oppa," you said, giving him a bright smile before starting to move down the line.

As you moved toward San, your heart raced even faster, the excitement mixing with a fresh wave of nerves. It had been years since you last saw him, and now, here you were—standing right in front of him again. It felt surreal, as if time had frozen for a moment, and you were about to close the distance that had stretched between the two of you.

San’s eyes met yours, and there was a flicker of recognition before his lips curled into that familiar, warm smile that made your heart skip a beat. You could see the slight surprise in his eyes, followed by a softness that only he could give you.

He took your album gently, his fingers brushing against yours as he began to sign it. The way he looked at you, his focus entirely on you, made everything feel more personal than you ever expected. His smile deepened, almost like he was processing the moment, and you could feel the weight of all those years apart—yet somehow, it felt like no time had passed at all.

"Yn…" San said your name softly, almost as if he was savoring it, and the way his voice carried your name sent a rush of warmth through you. "I didn’t expect to see you here."

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, trying to ease the nerves that had gripped you. "I didn’t expect to be here either," you replied, your voice quieter than you intended, but filled with the same affection that had always been there.

San paused for a moment, looking up at you with a tender expression. It was like he wanted to say something more, but the words got caught somewhere between his heart and his lips. Instead, he offered a quiet chuckle, almost as if he was trying to find his footing in this long-awaited moment.

"I’ve missed you," he finally said, his voice low but sincere. The words made your heart flutter, and you couldn't help but smile, your nerves slowly melting away as you soaked in the familiar presence of the person who had been such a big part of your life.

"I’ve missed you too, San," you whispered, feeling the warmth of his words wrap around you. "It’s really good to see you again."

As you handed San the stack of letters, you felt a quiet sense of relief. These were the letters you had never sent, all the thoughts and feelings you had stored over the years—now in his hands, where they belonged. He took them gently, looking up at you with a mixture of surprise and appreciation, his smile widening as he held them close.

Before any staff member could take the letters from him, San playfully shooed them away, his gaze never leaving you. "These are mine now," he said with a soft laugh, his voice warm and full of affection. You could tell he wasn’t going to let them go that easily.

Then, his eyes softened, scanning you as if noticing the smallest details for the first time in a long while. "You look amazing, by the way," he added, his tone sincere and appreciative. The compliment caught you off guard, but it made you smile—there was something about hearing it from him that made it feel even more special.

"Thanks, San," you replied, your heart fluttering a little. "You don’t look too bad yourself," you teased, trying to ease the tension with a playful tone, though the warmth you felt inside was undeniable.

He chuckled, his expression lighting up with amusement. "I’ll take that as a compliment," he said, his eyes sparkling. There was an easy, natural chemistry between the two of you, and it felt as though the years apart had only made this moment even more meaningful.

San’s fingers tightened slightly around the letters, a silent promise that he would read every single one. He met your gaze again, his eyes intense yet gentle. "I’m really glad you’re here, Yn," he said softly. "I missed you more than I realized."

You swallowed the lump in your throat, nodding as a wave of emotion washed over you. The moment felt so intimate, so real, that it was hard to believe everything you had gone through had led to this—this moment with him, right in front of you, ready to pick up where you left off.

You weren't completely shocked when a staff member pulled you aside when you headed to the bathroom. They took you to the back where you see San's manager who looked at you with a smile.

You were a little taken aback, but the manager’s warm smile quickly put you at ease. You nodded, a bit of nervousness still hanging in the air, and bowed respectfully as you replied, “Yes, I’m Yn. It’s really nice to meet you.”

His smile widened even further, the kind of friendly, reassuring smile that made you feel comfortable. “Great!” he said, his voice light and friendly. “Hongjoong wanted to make sure you get to spend the proper time with San after the fan greeting. You don’t have anything planned afterwards, right?”

The question threw you off for a second, but the surprise quickly melted into something more like anticipation. You hadn’t expected this kind of opportunity, and you found yourself almost speechless for a moment.

“No, nothing planned,” you replied quickly, shaking your head. “I don’t have anywhere to be after this.”

The manager’s expression softened, clearly pleased. “Perfect. I’ll make sure San knows. He’ll be happy to see you again, I’m sure.”

You could barely contain the butterflies in your stomach as you processed what he had said. You were being given a chance to spend some actual time with San after the fan greeting—something you never thought would happen. It felt like the universe had suddenly conspired to bring everything full circle.

San's excitement was palpable as he made his way backstage, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced by an eager energy. He had been looking forward to spending time with you since the moment he saw you during the fan greeting, and now that it was finally happening, his anticipation was nearly overwhelming.

As he hurried through the corridors, he spotted a seat near where the members had been resting—empty. His heart skipped a beat, and he immediately knew you must be somewhere nearby. His footsteps quickened, a smile tugging at his lips as he made his way toward the back.

He spotted the manager first, and without missing a beat, San called out, “Where is she?”

The manager’s face lit up at the sight of San, clearly enjoying the interaction. “She’s just down the hall, waiting for you.”

San’s grin grew even wider, and he didn’t waste a second. He rushed down the hallway, the anticipation rising with every step, until he finally rounded the corner and saw you. There you were, standing by the door, looking just as excited and nervous as he felt. Your presence made everything feel more real, and his heart swelled with happiness.

When you saw him, a smile broke out across your face, and before you could say anything, San was already there, walking towards you with long strides. The moment you locked eyes, the world around you seemed to fade. The years apart, the distance—none of it mattered now.

"Yn," San said your name softly, his voice full of warmth and something else, something deeper. He was standing right in front of you now, his eyes searching yours, as though taking in every little detail.

The moment San’s arms wrapped around you, everything felt like it clicked back into place. All the years apart, the distance, the longing—it all flooded back in an overwhelming rush. You could feel the tension in your body release as he pulled you in close, his warmth wrapping around you like a familiar blanket.

Tears started to blur your vision as they rolled down your cheeks, unexpected yet somehow inevitable. The years you had spent missing him, the silent ache in your chest, and the excitement of finally being here, in his arms—it was all too much. You let the emotions flow freely, no longer holding back.

San’s grip tightened around you, his hands soothingly rubbing your back, as if grounding you in the moment. His voice was soft, filled with concern, but laced with the same warmth that had always made you feel safe. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he whispered, his voice just for you. “I’m here now. I’m right here.”

His words, so familiar yet so comforting, broke something inside you, and you cried even harder. It was the release you didn’t know you needed, the culmination of everything you had kept bottled up for years.

San pulled back slightly, just enough to look at your face, his expression filled with a mix of understanding and tenderness. His thumb gently wiped the tears from your cheeks, his gaze softening as he smiled down at you. “I’m so sorry it took this long,” he whispered.

You sniffed, still overwhelmed by everything but grateful beyond words. “Me too,” you whispered back, your voice barely audible. “I didn’t know how much I needed this until now.”

San’s hands cupped your face, his forehead resting gently against yours. “You don’t ever have to wait this long again,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll make sure of that.”

San’s breath hitched slightly as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His heart raced as you gently pressed your lips to his, the kiss tender and full of unspoken feelings. The moment felt like it was suspended in time, both of you lost in the shared connection that had been years in the making.

The soft warmth of his lips against yours was everything you had been yearning for during the long time apart. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a promise, a shared understanding of all the moments that led up to this one. You could feel the way his hands instinctively tightened around you, pulling you even closer, as if he never wanted to let you go again.

The kiss deepened, slow and careful, as if both of you were savoring the reunion. Every little touch, every breath, felt like the culmination of everything you had missed and everything you were about to rediscover together.

When you finally pulled away, you both lingered, foreheads resting against each other, breathing heavily, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions. San’s hands remained on your face, his thumbs brushing gently against your skin as he looked at you with such softness in his eyes.

" promise?"

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “I promise.”

You smiled, a sense of peace washing over you, knowing that this time, you didn’t have to wait any longer.

[dollyhao]

lawyer!abby x client!reader (married to man but dude is barely mentioned, promise. fingering, tension, im not good at these lol, also don’t even know if this is good or not :/, let me know)

can you guys believe i couldn't find any buff women in suits...? maybe i wasn't looking hard enough...

when abby decided she wanted to be a lawyer, she thought she was gonna be some bad ass attorney that puts all the bad guys away. what she never expected was that she would end up dealing with messy divorces. but no complaining on her part; the pay is good and the mess is entertaining.

But when a woman with the bright smile on her face walks into her office she's intrigued, no one walks in here so happy. she stands up from behind her desk to shake your hand, "Good Afternoon, I'm Abby Anderson. It's nice to meet you."

your still smiling at her and you grab her hand, "It's nice to meet you; seems like your gonna be my saving grace." abby laughs and gestures for you to sit. "Would you like to start by telling me your situation?"

you hum and your smile slips a little, "ive been married for the last 7 years and i just wasn't happy anymore." you shrug a little. abby waits for you to continue but you don't so she hums. she can't help when her eyes trace over your features, you don't look like someone who was married for 7 years, you look so youthful and beautiful.

"no details?" abby gives you a teasing smirk as she looks at you. you giggle a little, "hmm, my ex-husband is a rich man who thought i was gonna cry and beg him to stay after i found out he cheated. but i didn't and asked for a divorce." abby hums writing some details down, "so what are you looking to get out of this?" abby puts her pen down, watching the way your lips lift into a smirk. "i want to take him for all he has."

abby smiles back at you standing and coming to stand in front of you, "i can see a blossoming relationship coming from this case," abby holds her hand out again to shake your hand. you smile and bite your lip before taking her hand and shaking it.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

you and abby spend a good amount of time together settling things for a divorce settlement. you both have gotten so close, an unspoken connection has been building between the two of you; like abby's hand on the small of your back, coffee 'meetings' where you guys don't talk about the case at all, standing a little too close to each other and more unnecessary touches.

it all reached a boiling point when you and abby were sitting in her office after hours when abby pulls out some wine and glasses she keeps behind her desk, you should've left an hour ago but you and abby weren't ready to leave each other.

your sipping from you glass while you listen to abby talk about her college days. you kick your shoes off stretching your legs in-between you and abby on the couch you were lounging on. abby had her blazer off, shirt unbuttoned dangerously low and and sleeves rolled up to her elbows. she looked so good sitting there with her legs spread and her hair falling over her shoulders.

your thoughts are getting hazy when abby stops talking, since you haven't responded to anything she's said in the last 5 minutes. she looks over at you and bites her bottom lip gently. seeing the way the moon shines through her window and lights up your face, she wants you closer.

"are you alright?" she whispers scooting closer to you, picking up your legs and placing them in her lap. "mhmm," your eyes fix on the way abby's lip is still in between her teeth. "i could sit and listen to you all day," you match her tone, scooting closer to play with the ends of her hair.

"i could watch you all day." she mumbles putting her hand on the back of your neck leaning closer to you, bumping your noses together. you close the gap between the two of you, kissing her lips with all the tension that's been building for the last couple months. abby reciprocates with just as much passion; hand in your hair the other on your waist trying to get you closer. you push at her shoulders even though your lips chase hers.

you know you shouldn't do this, not now atleast. you pull away from her watching her as you catch your breath, her lips pink and swollen looking like they're ready to get back on you. "i should go..." you whisper.

abby looks into your eyes, "if that's what you want," you nod and pull your legs off her lap. she nods, "let me take you home." you nod again watching her grab her coat and keys. you stand and do the same walking out the building and to abby's car.

when she pulls in front of your house, she looks over at you waiting for you. you turn towards her, leaning over the console to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth then directly on her lips. "thank you." you tell her before getting out and walking to your front door.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

on the day your divorce was finalized and you successfully milked you husband dry of his money, you and abby were pure smiles and grins as you rode back to her office. abby said she wants to take you out to dinner tonight to celebrate and you agree, but all you can think about is thanking her for all she has done in so many different ways.

this woman who has been nothing but gentle and attentive to you since she's met you, has melted your heart in a way no one ever has. you want her in a way you never have your husband or anyone else. but you might be thinking too much into this; this might be nothing but two people who worked close together who are obviously attracted to one another.

when you entered her office, you walk over to her desk and lean against it. “i can’t believe you did it,” you say for the second time since you left your ex and his lawyer. abby comes to stand in front of you smiling, "i didn't do much, your husband and his idiot lawyer made it too easy." you stare into her eyes before your eyes flick down to her lips. "i want to thank you."

“you don’t need to do that.” she licks her lip, caging you in as she puts her hands on her desk. her breath fans over your face as you have to restrain yourself from leaning forward and kissing her.

abby turns you around pressing you against her desk, "you've been an angel throughout all this," she whispers in your ears, "i wanna thank you," she kisses the back of your neck. she pushes you down across her desk, untucking your blouse from your skirt and pushing it up to expose your bare back. you shiver at her cold hands as they run across your skin and jump when you feel her lips press a kiss to the base of your spine.

"abby, touch me please." you turn your head to look at her, unzipping your skirt and letting it fall to the ground. "what's the rush? i thought you were supposed to be thanking me," her eyes are locked on your lacy pink panties as her big hands grip your ass. "i-i am. i just want-" you whine and jump when her hand collides with your ass. "then be patient."

you nod as abby's thumb runs up and down the wet fabric covering your dripping cunt. you whine pushing back against her, she moves your panties to the side and slips two fingers into your tight walls, feeling you tighten immediately.

you moan, jaw slack, her name caught in your throat as she fucks you on her fingers. "now what do you say?" she reaches her hand to grab your hair in her grip pulling your body against hers. you brace your hands on her desk as you fuck yourself against her fingers.

"thank you! t-thank you," a long drawn out moan falls from your lips as she uses her fingers to scissor your pussy open. abby's breathing is getting heavy as she falls more and more into the intoxicating moment; the look on your face, the feeling of you wrapped around her, the sounds your making as your orgasm builds.

"i want you. i-i want to have you all to myself." abby whispers against your sweaty neck. you clench hard around abby as you moan out, "ah, yesss! yes please." you reach your hand to hold the arm thats hitting just the right spot, overstimulating you. your orgasm subsides and you lay back on her desk. "you good beautiful?" abby picks up your skirt, pulling you up and zipping your skirt back up then tucking your stained panties into her pocket. abby moves the hair out your face with a smile and you nod.

that ended up not being the last time you've fucked abby in her office, she's up and moved you in her house where she fucks you in the shower in the morning then makes breakfast for you after. and divorcing your husband continues to be the best decision you've made.

[greengoblinswifey]

Pining—Luigi Mangione x Fem!Reader

summary— Luigi’s loved you since childhood but never had the courage to confess. In university, he finally gets close to you, only to watch you with someone else. When your breakup gives him a chance, he lays it all out. Based on this request.

warnings— none! just jealousy, unrequited love(for a bit), friends to lovers, fluff, L bombs.

Luigi had been watching you for as long as he could remember. It wasn’t in a creepy way at least, he hoped not. He just couldn’t help it. You were everywhere, pierced into the background of his life.

From his bedroom window, he saw you sometimes, sitting on your porch, airpods in, completely lost in whatever song from your playlist. He watched you walk your dog through the neighborhood, the pep in your step making you look so effortlessly graceful. And every time you laughed at something your friend said, he swore he could feel the sound settle in his chest, making it harder to breathe.

But you were untouchable. And he was just the guy next door.

Going to an all boys school meant there were barely any chances to talk to you. A few stolen glances when you were outside, a quick “hey” if you happened to make eye contact while passing by—nothing more. He wanted more. He wanted to know what made you smile like that, what songs you always had playing in your airpods, if your hands were as soft as they looked.

He was down bad.

So when fate, or maybe just sheer dumb luck reunited you in university, he didn’t know what to do with himself.

He saw you across the quad one day, laughing with a friend, and his heart nearly stopped. He thought about pretending he didn’t see you, that maybe if he just turned and walked the other way, he wouldn’t make a fool of himself. But then, as if the universe had been waiting for this moment, you turned.

And you saw him.

“Luigi?”

You said his name like you were surprised he was real.

His breath caught. “Yeah,” he managed, his voice barely above a whisper.

A smile spread across your lips, so bright, so familiar. “Oh my God, it’s been years! I can’t believe you go here!”

And just like that, you became friends.

Well. Sort of.

At first, it was almost painful. He could barely look at you without his face turning red. Every time you sat next to him in the library or playfully pushed him during a joke, he had to remind himself to breathe. You made it easy, though. You didn’t treat him like he was some awkward mess. You talked to him like you had always known him, like he belonged in your world.

The problem?

You had a boyfriend.

And he hated the guy.

Not because he was jealous—okay, maybe a little—but because he could see it. The way your laughter didn’t quite reach your eyes when you talked about him. The way you sometimes hesitated before answering your phone. The way you deserved better.

Luigi wasn’t stupid. He knew he had no right to feel this way. But when he saw the way that guy held your waist like you were just another prize, when he saw you wipe at your eyes after an argument over the phone, it took everything in him not to step in and tell you that you didn’t have to settle for that.

Then, one day, you didn’t.

You showed up at his dorm, puffy eyed and exhausted.

“We broke up,” you said, voice shaky.

And even though he had been waiting—waiting for this moment for what felt like his whole life, he didn’t smile. He didn’t celebrate. He just opened the door wider and let you in.

That night, he let you cry. He let you rant. He let you fall asleep on his bed while he sat on the floor, watching over you like he always had from afar.

And then, slowly, things shifted. You started spending more time with him. The laughter came back, the light in your eyes started to shine a little brighter. And for the first time in years, he let himself hope.

One evening, as you sat together on his dorm bed, scrolling through your phone, you sighed. “I feel like I wasted so much time.”

“You didn’t,” he said.

You turned to him, eyebrow raised. “Oh? And why’s that?”

His fingers curled into his shirt. He knew this was the moment.

“Because,” he said, voice steady, “you were always going to end up here. With me.”

Silence stretched between you. His heart pounded.

Then, you smiled. Soft, like how he always wished you’d smile for him.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I think so too.”

Luigi’s heart was beating too fast. Too hard. He could feel it against his ribs, hammering like it was trying to break free.

You were still looking at him, eyes soft, waiting.

And he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“I—God, I need to say this,” he blurted out, running a hand through his curly hair. His leg bounced anxiously. “I’ve liked you forever. Like—forever. Since we were kids. Since before I even knew what it meant to have a crush on someone. I used to see you walking your dog, and I’d just stand at my window like an idiot, hoping you’d look up. I’d see you with your friends and wonder what it’d be like if I was the one making you laugh. And then I got to university, and you were here, and I thought—” He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. “I thought maybe it was a sign or something. But then you had a boyfriend, and I had to j-just sit there and act like I was okay with it, like I wasn’t dying every time you said his name.”

You blinked, lips slightly parted, taking it all in.

“I—” he exhaled shakily, rubbing his hands over his face. “I love you. I’ve loved you for years. I just never thought I’d get the chance to tell you.”

His breath was uneven, nerves twisting inside him, and he was just about to start apologizing, maybe even backpedal, when you moved.

You swung your legs over him, settling onto his lap. His breath hitched.

Your hands smoothed over his chest, right where his heart was trying to beat out of control. He swore it skipped when you finally spoke.

“I love you too,” you whispered.

His lips parted, eyes wide. “You—?”

You smiled, pressing your palm a little firmer against his chest. “Yeah, Luigi. I do.”

For once, he was speechless.

You tilted your head, searching his face. “Breathe, Lu.”

He let out a shaky exhale, his body finally beginning to relax under your touch. His hands came up hesitantly, resting on your waist.

And then, finally, finally, you kissed him.

It was slow, warm, and when your fingers slid into his curls, a soft sound came from his chest. Years of waiting, wanting, hoping—it all melted into this single moment.

You pulled back to press your forehead against his. “Everything’s okay now.”

He nodded, exhaling softly. “Yeah,” he murmured, lips still brushing over yours. “Perfect.”

But then he gently cupped your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks as he studied you, his eyes filled with something deep and unwavering. “I wanna do this right,” he admitted softly. “I’ve waited so long for you, and I don’t wanna rush anything. You deserve more than that. More than me just jumping in without thinking. I want to take my time with you. I want to do everything the right way, because you—” He paused. “You mean everything to me.”

Your heart swelled, your fingers tightening in his hair as you kissed him again, slow and sweet.

“I want that too,” you murmured against his lips.

Luigi smiled, pulling you impossibly closer. “Good,”he whispered. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

And just like that, the story he had been waiting to write finally began.

[tzihomara]

hc, + slight ooc (oh em gee im highkey coping..)

bipolarbpd!gojo

thinking about post prisonrealm gojo who’s emotional regulation definitely, if not obviously has gotten worse. if killing his own best friend wasn’t enough trauma, seeing your dead best friend before you’re sealed allll alone, for three, long, agonizing years. cluttered in the bones of the hopeless, fearful souls that came before him most definitely was.

it’s not as if him being emotionally dysregulated wasn’t a shock to anyone close enough to him. from being born the strongest in his clan, and frankly one of the most powerful sorcerers currently, without a doubt it comes with its tax. whether it be emotional, physical, mental, and you can already tell what department gojo is paying in. 

familiarizing yourself with the how he’s been behaving since. sometimes he has that vacant look in those gorgeous blue eyes. the best way you could put it, was that he was mordant, a lack of what his overly silly personality fronted as. though with you, he’s different. harder to read. but you’re trying. still keeping his mostly quiet, erratic, held together demeanor. lurking, following you around, always keeping a strong forearm hooked around your hips, or your ribs. his cheek pressed to the side of your temple, eyes lingering with disinterest on whatever you’re doing, just wanting to be near you and zoning out the rest of what’s happening. those are how most of his days are spent. though, it dosent seem eventful, days with nothing going on could turn into everything with him. it merely depends on the day, maybe even the hour too. there’s been countless days where you slipping a little too far from him, out of his reach and just barely past the tips of his fingers has turnt into desperate n ‘ needy  hands yanking you closer, suffocated between your counter and satoru. one arm leaning on the counter, and the other hand smothering the left side of your face. pink flushed cheek pressed to yours as he pants out little sniffled curses n’ gasps whilst his cock achingly fucks into your cunt, nudging the tip of your cervix. unabashed and showing his vulnerability, letting you help, the only person he’d dare let handle his heart. he didn’t even know why he was crying, maybe because of how good you feel, or maybe it’s all the things he’s feeling..most likely a combination. crying from how his body rushes with insecurity, confusion, irritation, everytime you’re even slightly apart from him. how you can make everything go from 100 to 0 whenever he needs it the most. always at his side, you’re basically what’s keeping him functioning as best to his ability. keeping him sane even right now, taking all his frustration and fear away, making you take every inch to remind himself of what he still and will always have, what’s been there for him through all the losses, incidents, and more. 

you !

my masterlist for more .ᐟ psa: dont romantizice illnesses you dont have

ⓘ  all right’s reserved, do not republish, edit, or translate my work.  

[redrose10]

I hope you like it! Thanks for requesting. @suga-nya

<Confetti Cake Crush>

Idol Yoongi x Female Reader. Friends to Lovers

Warnings: Slight amount of angst, insecurities, hints of smut but nothing explicit

Prompts in bold

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

“Take the picture!”, you gritted through your teeth, “This cake is really heavy.” Taehyung was trying to shed to get the perfect shot but he did snap a few photos of you holding up your birthday cake at your “surprise” birthday party before Hoseok came and helped you put the cake on the table. It wasn’t really a surprise because being the executive accounting assistant you knew about all of the spending that went on at the company. When you saw a receipt for a birthday cake to be delivered on your birthday and balloons and a handwritten receipt that said birthday gift for Y/N…shhhh…don’t tell her, you knew it was coming. But it was still thoughtful and nice of them to go out of their way to set this up for you.

You couldn’t help but notice one important piece was missing though. Yoongi. Your best friend. For the last four years he had always been by your side. You hung out after work or before work if possible. Spoke on the one at least once a day. So for him to miss out on your birthday party stung a little bit.

You couldn’t say that you blamed him though. & it was the other way around there would have been no way you would have showed up to his party.

“I like you…like a lot Y/N. I uh I…I love you actually.”, he shyly said to you a week ago. You watched his ears turn bright red before he looked up at you, one of the rare times he held eye contact for more than a few seconds. You wanted to kiss him and tell him you loved him too, that you have for a while to be honest.

But his eyes looked so warm and sweet and loving and you just couldn’t be the one to hurt him so you decided to let him down early before you guys were in too deep,

“I’m…I…I’m sorry. I can’t. I have to go.”, you replied and walked out of his studio so he wouldn’t see you cry. Other than a text from him asking if you made it home safely that night you hadn’t heard from or seen him since.

“Not eating any cake?”, Namjoon asked startling you out of your day dream. “No.”, you laughed, “I saw a bunch of finger prints all over the frosting and I have a feeling they weren’t from the bakery.”, you said pointing at Jungkook and Jin manhandling the cake trying to slice and plate it.

“Yeah don’t blame you.”, he chuckled.

“Have you seen Yoongi today?”, you questioned even though you were already pretty sure of the answer, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“I saw him this morning. Said something about being busy in his studio all day.”

You hummed in acknowledgement.

“I can’t say that I blame him. Getting rejected by one of your best friends no less is pretty rough.”

“You know about that?”, you groaned.

“Of course I know about that. We’re like brothers. We tell each other everything.”

“How is he doing Joon?”, you quietly asked.

“Well.”, he chuckled, “He’s hurt, pretty heartbroken I’d say. I mean getting rejected sucks, but he’s a big boy. He can handle it. But…what I want to know is why?”

Your brows furrowed, “What do you mean why?”

“Y/N, we all know that you’ve had a huge crush on him for a while so why did you reject him when he confessed to you? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to…it’s just been something I’ve been wondering about.”

“I um I just…”, you sighed, “He’s him and I’m me. That’s all. It’s one thing for me to have a crush on him, but knowing he also liked me made it too real. I panicked.”

“What do you mean by that?”, he asked. You hated that he did things like that. He played dumb so that you would have to talk through what you were feeling. You had seen him do it a million times with the rest of the group, but now you were on the receiving end.

“You know what I mean. He’s talented, successful, rich. He’s only dated other idols who are just as talented and beautiful as he is. And I…I sit behind a desk answering phone calls and collecting paperwork and inputting numbers into a system. I’m nowhere near being on his level. What will people think of they find out we’re dating? So I rejected him for his own good. I didn’t want him to regret it one day and then we’ll both be more upset.”

The way Namjoon let out a deep belly laugh surprised you. When he saw your face of anger he quickly coughed and changed his demeanor, “Sorry sorry, but Y/N you should know better than anyone that Yoongi doesn’t care about things like that. He doesn’t care about status or money or what others think. He likes you because you’re you. And you know he doesn’t take something like confessing lightly. So if he told you he loved you that means he really does love you. He’s never told anyone that before.”

Deep down you knew he was right, but it was hard to accept. You genuinely thought you were doing the right thing by rejecting him now so it didn’t end up in heartbreak later, but you were living with immense regret ever since.

“I’m not telling you how to live your life Y/N, but …”, he said reaching over and grabbing a slice of cake with the least amount of finger prints, “You know Yoongi loves confetti cake just as much as you do.”

You got the hint he was giving and took the cake, “Thanks Joon. I’ll take this up to him and maybe have a talk.”

Normally you’d just enter in the code to his studio and let yourself in without much thought. But after the recent events doing that felt strange and that saddened you. You knocked and waited a few moments before knocking again this time a little bit harder. When he still didn’t answer you were a little impatient so you decided to put in the code and enter the studio on your own before you lost the courage you currently had.

“I told you guys I’m busy.”, he grumbled when he heard the door beep without even looking away from the computer screen.

“Too busy for cake?”, you spoke making him jump because he wasn’t expecting to hear your voice. You giggled when you saw him spin around in his chair so fast nearly falling out of it.

“Y/N, wh-what are you doing here?”

You held up the slice of cake, “It’s confetti. Our favorite!”

“Thank you. I’m uh I’m sorry I couldn’t make it. I’m just really busy and have to get this song done by the deadline and…”

“It’s okay.”, you cut him off before he could continue his rant, “I understand why you weren’t there.”

He sat down on the leather couch next to you giving a tight lipped smile, but didn’t say anything.

“Y/N”

“Yoongi”

You both laughed at the coincidence. “You first.”, you said.

He took a deep breath, “Y/N…I’m sorry about the other day. I never meant to make you uncomfortable. I guess I…I guess I just misread some things between us and I thought you liked me too.”

“I do!”, you jumped up before feeling a little embarrassed and clearing your throat and sitting back down, “I mean I do like you too.”

“Then why…”, he turned to look at you, “Then why did you leave like that the other day?”

“Um…well I just thought I was doing the right thing because I didn’t want you to end up regretting it.”

“What?!”, he laughed, “I would never regret anything about you or us.”

“I know I know. It’s just that you’re you and I’m me and I didn’t see us working out in the long run because of that.”

“Mmmhhm I see now.”, he said scooting a little closer to you, “Y/N, I didn’t mean to fall in love with you, but that doesn’t mean I regret it one bit. I love who you are as a person. I love how kind you are and how sweet and thoughtful you are. I think you’re beautiful and smart and the best thing to ever happen to me. I mean all of that. And I can’t guarantee we’d be together forever, but I have no plans of ever letting you go.”

You buried your face into his neck feeling overwhelmed, “I love you too Yoongi.”

You could feel him shuffling around a little bit. “Hey look at me.”, he said tapping your forehead, “Happy birthday Y/N.”

You looked down at the black box wrapped in a red bow.

“I was gonna have Jimin distract you so I could put it on your desk before you left for the day.”

Excitedly you untied the bow and snapped open the black velvet box. “Wow Yoongi. It’s gorgeous. Thank you so much!”, you said handing him the necklace and turning around so he could clasp it around your neck. When he was done you looked down at the sparkly daisy pendant with a smile.

“Oh! Here have some cake!“, you said reaching for the plate, but he beat you to it.

“No, I should be feeding cake to the birthday girl.”

“But confetti cake is your favorite.”

“Yes, but it’s also your favorite too.”

The two of you bickered back and forth while fighting for control of the fork. One thing led to another and next thing you knew somehow the slice of cake toppled over and slid down your face onto your chest leaving a trail of frosting all the way down to your thighs and onto the floor.

“Oh no I’m sorry.”, he giggled while searching for a napkin to clean you up.

“No it’s okay. I don’t mind. I hate this shirt anyways.”, you giggled along with him.

“You could always take it off.”, he said while wiping away at the frosting on your cheek, “Only if you want to that is.”, he added. Both of your cheeks blushed.

Your fingers had a mind of their own as they quickly undid the buttons pulling off the scratchy material you always hated. You sat there just in your skirt and black lace bra feeling very exposed.

When you noticed Yoongi staring at you intently your cheeks heated up in embarrassment even more and you tried to hide your face with your hands, but he stopped you.

“Does it make you nervous when I stare?”, he rasped. His voice deeper than normal.

You nodded, “Yeah a little.”

“Don’t be.”, he shook his head, “You have nothing to be nervous about around me. I think you’re beautiful Y/N. Every single bit of you.”

He leaned over and engulfed your lips into a kiss which you happily reciprocated.

“Do you want to go further?”, he pulled away to ask.

You nodded, “Yes please.”

So he pushed you back onto the couch spreading your legs to make some room for him.

He took the slice of cake smearing more of the frosting all over your body.

Then he licked at the frosting on your skin. First on your chest before moving down to your thighs. His tongue warm and soft and causing your excitement to build.

“Okay princess. Let me make this a birthday you’ll never forget.”, he smirked before undoing his belt.

He leaned in for another kiss before pulling down your skirt and tossing it somewhere in the corner of the room.

His kiss tasted like sugar and cream and vanilla and god you loved confetti cake.

[eu-nicola]

attraction part 1

summary: after your mother's death you marry Ward Cameron to have economic stability and you meet his son who hangs around you

warnings: for now just age-gap

word counter: 4713

author’s note: english is not my first language, ofc i’m based on one of my favorite novels

The sky was gray, covered with thick clouds that seemed to cry with you. The rain fell softly, soaking the dark grass of the cemetery and mixing with the tears running down your cheeks. You felt empty, torn apart by grief, holding onto the last image of your mother before the coffin was lowered into the ground.  

The priest’s words faded into the dull sound of the rain, into the murmurs of the few people who had come to say their goodbyes. People who claimed to have loved your mother but weren’t there in her final moments. Hypocrites, all of them. Except you.  

You stayed there, even when the others started leaving. Your fingers were freezing, your legs trembling, but you couldn’t move. You didn’t want to accept that you were truly alone.  

"I’m really sorry for your loss."  

The male voice reached you gently, like he was afraid his presence alone might break you. When you looked up, you saw a middle-aged man in a dark coat. His expression was solemn, and in his light eyes, there was something more than just politeness—there was sadness, maybe even nostalgia.  

"Thanks," you murmured, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand, even though you knew the tears wouldn’t stop anytime soon.  

The man nodded gravely, looking at the grave with the same sadness you did.  

"Who were you?" you asked, your voice broken but firm.  

He took a moment to answer, like he was searching for the right words.  

"A friend from your mother’s teenage years," he finally said. "We met a long time ago. She… was an incredible woman."  

A friend. Why had your mother never mentioned him? Why was he here now, offering condolences, when you���d never seen him before in your life?  

"I guess she was," you replied, not even trying to hide the bitterness in your voice.  

The man didn’t seem offended. Instead, he looked at you with a kind of sympathy that made you uncomfortable.  

"I know this must be really hard for you. Being alone…" He paused, like he was choosing his words carefully. "If you ever need anything, anything at all, I can help you."  

You shook your head immediately.  

"No," you said firmly. "I’m fine."  

It was a lie, of course. You weren’t fine. You never would be. But accepting help meant admitting you had no one else, no options. And if there was one thing your mother had taught you, it was to never rely on anyone.  

Ward Cameron watched you for a moment longer, then nodded in understanding.  

"If you ever change your mind, here’s my card."  

You didn’t want to take it, but you did anyway. You barely glanced at the name printed on it before stuffing it into your coat. You weren’t going to see him again. You wouldn’t need him.  

Or so you thought.  

Time passed, and loneliness became your only company, routine your only salvation. You had learned to survive, to stay standing even when everything around you was falling apart. But every night, when the house was silent and the weight of reality crushed you, you thought about your mother’s words.  

"True love is a luxury few women can afford. The most important thing is security."  

You had seen your mother sacrifice herself, seen how love had betrayed her over and over until she stopped believing in it. Security was the only thing that mattered. And now, you understood that better than ever.  

That’s why, when you saw Ward Cameron again, it wasn’t so surprising that fate kept pushing you in the same direction.  

You ran into him at a charity event you attended out of obligation. You wore an elegant black dress, simple yet sophisticated, and as you made small talk with people you barely knew, you felt his gaze before you even saw him.  

"I’m glad to see you again," he said, with that same calm voice you remembered.  

You didn’t know what to say. You just nodded, letting him lead the conversation, letting him talk with an ease you had long forgotten.  

"How have you been?"  

"Surviving."  

A shadow crossed his face, but he didn’t push. Instead, he changed the subject, talking about trivial things—business, the event itself. But at the end of the night, just as you were about to leave, he asked the question that would change everything.  

"Marry me."  

You froze.  

"What?"  

He wasn’t smiling. He didn’t look like he was joking.  

"I’m offering you security," he said, with a calmness that made your skin prickle. "You have no one else, and I… I can give you stability."  

He didn’t talk about love. He didn’t promise fairytales or happy endings. Just security.  

And for the first time in your life, you actually considered it.  

Your mother had been right.  

"True love is a luxury."  

Ward Cameron was offering you the only thing that really mattered.  

And so, after a long silence, you looked up and made a decision.  

"I accept."  

The sound of your own voice still hung in the air when the reality of what you had done started hitting you.  

"I accept."  

You had said those words without thinking too much, like they didn’t even belong to you, like someone else had spoken them for you. And now, as Ward Cameron looked at you with approval, with a slight, satisfied smile—almost like he knew you would accept—you started to feel it.  

Regret.  

The feeling hit you like a cold wave, leaving a frozen trail in your chest. What the hell had you done? You didn’t even really know this man. Sure, he had been friends with your mother in her youth, but what did that even mean? You didn’t know anything about him. Where he lived, what exactly he did for a living, whether or not he had kids—though, given his age, he probably did.  

"God."  

The thought struck you suddenly, and nausea twisted in your stomach. What if he had kids your age? It was possible. Ward Cameron had to be in his late forties, maybe even fifty. It wouldn’t be crazy if he had a son or daughter around your age.  

And yet, you had done it. You had accepted his proposal without thinking it through enough.  

"You don’t look very sure," Ward commented, watching you closely.  

You quickly shook your head, forcing yourself to keep your expression in check. You couldn’t back out. Not now.  

"No… it’s just that…"  

You trailed off. There was no excuse you could give that wouldn’t make you sound completely unstable. You couldn’t say, "Sorry, I just realized I agreed to marry a man I barely know" or "Maybe this was an impulsive decision because my life has been a mess lately."  

Ward tilted his head slightly, like he could see every single thought written on your face.  

"You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to," he said, but something in his tone told you he didn’t really mean it.  

It wasn’t a warning or a threat, but it also wasn’t a real way out.  

You forced yourself to take a deep breath.  

"I will," you confirmed, even though the weight of your own words felt heavier than anything else.  

Ward seemed pleased with your answer. He took a slow sip of his wine, completely in control, like this arrangement was the most natural thing in the world.  

That night, you barely slept.  

You tossed and turned in bed, feeling the weight of the commitment you had taken on without really analyzing it.  

"What the hell am I doing?"  

Your thoughts spiraled endlessly. You rationalized it in a thousand different ways.  

"It was the best option."  

"It was the only option."  

"Ward Cameron is offering you security, stability."  

And yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being… trapped.  

Your mother’s voice echoed in your head.  

"Love is a luxury."  

You didn’t have the luxury of waiting for something so unattainable.  

And still… you couldn’t stop thinking about how strange all of this was.

Ward wasn’t a total stranger, but he wasn’t someone close to you either. You had no idea what kind of husband he’d be. You didn’t know if he was a nice guy or if he was hiding a darker side under his perfect posture and measured smile.

You tried to imagine him. Tried to picture yourself married to him, sharing a house, a bed, a life.

The thought made you shiver.

“It’s too late for regrets.”

You repeated it to yourself until exhaustion finally took over, and you sank into an uneasy sleep.

The following days were a fog of uncertainty. Ward didn’t push or demand anything right away, which, in a way, only made everything feel more unreal.

He’d communicate with you casually, sending short messages asking how you were, if you needed anything. Nothing romantic, nothing that hinted at wanting more from you than just your acceptance.

And yet, every time you received a message from him, every time you saw him, you felt that slight tug in your stomach.

Not fear.

But not calm either.

When the time finally came to discuss the terms of the marriage, you realized Ward had everything perfectly planned. As if he had been preparing for this for years.

“I don’t want you to feel like you’re losing your independence,” he said, sitting across from you at a fancy restaurant, with a glass of wine between his fingers. “You’ll have your own space, your own money, nothing will change too much… except that we’ll be married.”

You just watched him, looking for any sign of real emotion on his face.

“Why are you doing this?” you finally asked, feeling like this was a question you should have asked a long time ago.

Ward set his glass down on the table and leaned slightly toward you.

“Because I can offer you something no one else can,” he replied simply. “Security.”

There it was again. 

“Security.”

It was a deal, one that would probably benefit you.

So why couldn’t you shake that feeling in your chest?

“Maybe because I still don’t know what price I’m really paying.”

After that, only a few days had passed since you accepted Ward’s proposal, and even though you still woke up each morning with the feeling that you had made an impulsive decision, you didn’t back out.

When Ward told you he wanted to introduce you to his family, you knew it was an inevitable step.

“I want you to meet my kids,” he said one afternoon while driving along the immaculate roads of Outer Banks. “It’s important that we do this before everything becomes official.”

The word “official” made you swallow hard.

“Sure,” your voice responded before your brain could fully process it.

Ward gave you a quick glance, as if measuring your reaction.

“You don’t have to worry,” he added. “I don’t expect them to become your best friends overnight, but I want you to know what you’re getting into.”

His words weren’t comforting, but you weren’t expecting them to be.

The sea breeze caressed your face when you finally got out of the car in front of the imposing Cameron house. It was bigger than you imagined, with a classic design and an almost intimidating perfection.

Ward walked ahead of you with his usual confidence, and you followed with your stomach in knots.

As soon as you entered, the sound of muffled laughter and the TV murmurs reached your ears.

“Wheezie, Sarah, Rafe,” Ward called in his firm, authoritative voice.

The first to appear was a little girl with brown hair and a curious expression.

“Dad?” she asked, stopping in her tracks when she saw you. Her eyes scanned your face with interest, no sign of hostility.

“Wheezie,” Ward said, placing a hand on your back. “This is…”

“Your fiancée?” she interrupted with excitement in her voice.

It took you by surprise. How quickly she accepted the idea, her energy, almost made you smile.

“Yeah,” Ward confirmed calmly.

“Wow!” she exclaimed, walking up to you without hesitation. “You’re super pretty.”

Her sincerity made you let out a small laugh, and for the first time since you arrived, the knot in your stomach loosened a little.

“Thanks,” you said softly.

Wheezie smiled broadly before turning on her heels and shouting toward the living room.

“Sarah, Rafe, come quick!”

Your relief didn’t last long.

Seconds later, two figures emerged from the living room. The first was Sarah, her blonde hair falling in waves over her shoulders, her face full of surprise.

The second was a tall young man, with blue eyes and a tense jaw.

Rafe Cameron.

Sarah looked you up and down, her lips slightly parted, as if unsure what to say.

Rafe, on the other hand, didn’t bother hiding his dislike.

“Who are you?” he sneered with an incredulous smirk.

The tension in the room was instant.

“Rafe,” Ward warned, his voice firm.

“What? We can’t even ask?” his son replied sarcastically.

You took a deep breath before speaking.

“I’m your dad’s fiancée,” you said calmly, not lowering your gaze.

Sarah blinked rapidly and let out a small, nervous laugh.

“Wait, wait… what?” 

You could see her brain trying to process it.

Wheezie, excited, decided to chime in.

“Dad’s marrying her. Isn’t it awesome?”

Sarah still seemed confused, but not hostile. However, Rafe kept looking at you with that mix of disdain and silent evaluation that made you uncomfortable.

“And how old are you?” Sarah finally asked, tilting her head.

You knew that question was coming eventually, but still, your heart sped up slightly.

“I’m 19,” you said. “I’m about to turn 20.”

There was a silence.

Sarah opened her mouth as if she was about to say something, but it was Rafe who spoke first, letting out a dry laugh.

“Don’t fuck with me,” he scoffed, shaking his head with mocking amusement. “Dad, did you buy yourself a wife who’s younger than us?”

The comment hit hard.

Ward’s jaw tightened immediately.

“Rafe,” his voice was dangerous this time.

“What? I’m just saying the obvious,” he continued, leaning back with his arms crossed. “I mean, we could’ve gone out if things were different.”

You wanted to respond, but the atmosphere was already too tense.

“That’s enough,” Ward cut in sharply.

Rafe rolled his eyes but said nothing more.

Sarah, on the other hand, still looked surprised. She was staring at you with a mix of disbelief and curiosity.

“Well… this is… unexpected,” she murmured finally, trying to find the right words.

You tried to smile, though you knew dinner was going to be awkward.

And you weren’t wrong.

The table was perfectly set, the food impeccably prepared, but the tension in the air was undeniable.

Wheezie, oblivious to the conflict, chatted enthusiastically, asking you about your likes, your life before meeting Ward.

Sarah, still surprised, tried to be polite.

But Rafe… Rafe wasn’t making any effort to hide his annoyance.

“So, how did you two meet?” Sarah asked, looking at you with some genuine curiosity.

“My mom and your dad knew each other since they were young,” you explained calmly. “We met at her funeral.”

Sarah blinked a couple of times.

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”

Rafe scoffed.

“How romantic,” he muttered, taking a sip from his glass.

Ward shot him a deadly look.

“Rafe, if you can’t behave, you can leave.”

For a moment, he seemed tempted to do just that, but instead, he adjusted himself in his chair and smiled with fake politeness.

“No, I’m enjoying dinner.”

The conversation continued with awkward silences between forced phrases.

When the dinner finally ended, you felt like you’d just gone through a trial by fire.

Sarah was still processing it, Wheezie seemed excited to have you in her life, and Rafe… Rafe hated you, though he couldn’t deny that you were attractive.

But none of that mattered.

Everything happened faster than you could absorb.

One minute, you were having dinner with Ward’s family, enduring Sarah’s assessing looks and Rafe’s barely concealed contempt, and the next, you were moving into his house, sharing his space, his life.

There wasn’t a long engagement or endless preparations. Ward was a practical man, used to making decisions and having others follow his pace. So, before you could even stop to think about it too much, there was already a ring on your finger and a wedding date set.

Your wedding.

You didn’t know if you were excited or terrified.

The dress was the first thing.

Ward insisted on you having the best, not skimping on anything, so he took you to one of the most exclusive boutiques on the East Coast. The place was a dream, with glass walls, chandeliers, and a selection of dresses that looked like they came straight out of fairy tales.

“Pick the one you want,” he told you in his calm but firm tone. “I want you to feel beautiful that day.”

You felt almost overwhelmed as the attendants brought option after option, each more elaborate than the last.

In the end, you chose one that took your breath away as soon as you put it on.

It was a white silk dress, fitted at the waist with an elegant corset, and a skirt that fell gracefully, not too voluminous. Delicate lace appliqué extended over the neckline and shoulders, giving it a timeless feel. It wasn’t exaggerated or overdone, but it made you feel powerful. Like you really were Mrs. Cameron.

When you came out of the fitting room, Ward looked at you in silence for a moment before nodding in satisfaction.

“It’s perfect.”

His words should’ve made your heart race with excitement, but instead, you felt a strange unease in your chest.

The wedding day came before you could mentally prepare.

The ceremony was private, elegant, and perfectly planned. It was held at the Cameron estate, with flawless floral arrangements and an altar decorated with warm lights. Ward wanted discretion, no scandals or unnecessary attention, and you agreed.

The small circle of guests consisted of important businessmen, some of Ward’s partners, and, of course, his family.

As you walked down the aisle, the dress fitting perfectly with each step, you felt all eyes on you.

Sarah, in the front row, wore a neutral expression, still trying to figure you out.

Wheezie smiled with the same childish excitement she had shown from the beginning.

And Rafe…

Rafe looked at you with his lips pressed into a tense line, his dark eyes full of something you couldn’t quite decipher.

He didn’t look exactly upset, but there was an intensity in his gaze that made you uncomfortable.

Ward took your hand when you reached his side, his fingers enveloping yours firmly.

The ceremony was short, but each word felt heavy.

“In riches and in poverty…”

“In health and in sickness…”

“Until death do us part…”

When Ward slid the ring onto your finger, you knew there was no turning back.

You were now his wife.

Mrs. Cameron.

After the wedding, the honeymoon didn’t happen.

There were no trips to exotic places, no romantic getaways to private islands. No candlelit dinners in Paris or sunsets in Tuscany.

There was only the Cameron house.

There was only the room you now shared with Ward.

That was your honeymoon.

When Ward told you that you couldn’t travel because he had work commitments, you nodded without arguing. You didn’t expect anything different. You weren’t an innocent girl dreaming of fairy tales.

Besides, the sooner you got used to your new life, the better.

The house was big, too big. Sometimes, when Ward wasn’t around, you walked through the halls in silence, feeling like an intruder in a world you didn’t fully understand yet.

Your day-to-day life became filled with a quiet routine. You woke up in the room you now shared with Ward, feeling the coldness of the sheets when he had already gotten up before dawn for his business.

You had breakfast alone in the dining room, flipping through the newspaper even though you didn’t care about what it said.

You crossed paths with the household staff, who treated you with respect, but without the warmth of someone who really knew you.

And, occasionally, you crossed paths with Rafe.

You didn’t speak.

When you passed by him in the halls or in the living room, he barely looked at you. But you could feel his judgment, his silent contempt.

Rafe thought you were an opportunist.

You knew that for him, you were just a young, ambitious woman who had found the perfect way to secure her future. He probably thought you’d manipulated his dad, that you had taken advantage of his generosity and power.

You wondered if he would change his mind

But you didn’t bother to try. 

Sarah, on the other hand, was barely home. 

Since the wedding day, you’d hardly seen her. She spent most of her time with her boyfriend, far away from the Cameron house and all the tension that lingered there. 

You weren’t sure if that was good or bad. 

Part of you thought her distance meant she had no interest in getting to know you. The other part saw it as a quiet truce. 

And then there was Wheezie. 

Your only “friend.”

The youngest Cameron had accepted you without questioning too much. Unlike her siblings, Wheezie didn’t have that deep-rooted cynicism, or the distrust that seemed to come with being Rafe and Sarah. 

She just liked you. 

You’d hang out together in the afternoons, sitting on the porch while she told you stories about her school, her friends, and the little dramas that filled her world. 

"It's weird having someone new in the house," she said one afternoon as you two sipped lemonade in the garden.

"Too weird?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No," she answered with a smile. "Just... different. But I like it."

It was one of the few times you felt like you belonged somewhere. 

Over the next few days, your only goal was to avoid crossing paths with Rafe, except at dinner. 

You didn’t want to see him. 

You didn’t want to run into him, or even think about him. 

But somehow, Rafe Cameron always ended up showing up. 

You didn’t know if it was fate, bad luck, or if he did it on purpose. But the truth was, your encounters started happening more often. 

Sometimes it was in the kitchen when you’d come down for coffee and find him leaning on the counter, lazily stirring his cup while giving you that same carefree, indifferent look. 

Other times it was in the living room, when you thought the house was empty, only to turn around and find him there, watching you with those eyes that always seemed to analyze, judge, question. 

Then there were the worst encounters: the ones in the hallway. 

In those, he always had something to say. 

Always. 

“Getting used to the rich life yet?” he threw out one time as you passed by him.

You held his gaze without blinking.

“I didn’t know you cared so much about my life, Rafe.”

He let out a dry laugh, like the idea amused him.

“I don’t. I just find it fascinating how some people can get everything without lifting a finger.”

Your jaw clenched.

“You have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Don’t I?” He shrugged, that arrogant air that seemed to be part of his DNA. “Maybe you should explain it to me. What's it like marrying someone you barely know? What's it like selling yourself for security?”

This time, you didn’t hold back.

“And what’s it like being a rich kid with a martyr complex?” you fired back. “Because if it bothers you so much that some people get money without ‘lifting a finger,’ maybe you should start with yourself.”

His eyes darkened for a moment.

For a second, you thought he’d hit back with something worse. That he wouldn’t let you win that small war of words that seemed to have started between you two.

But instead, he just stared at you intensely.

And then, without saying anything else, he walked past you and went on his way. 

You didn’t understand why his silence felt like a victory. 

But that wasn’t the end of it. 

Because Rafe didn’t know when to stop. 

And you weren’t about to give in either. 

Every encounter became a battleground disguised as conversation. Every time he opened his mouth, you were ready to respond. 

“What are you gonna do when you get tired of this?” he asked another day, when you found him on the porch, a beer in hand. “When you get bored pretending this is what you wanted?”

“What are you gonna do when you realize that your opinion doesn’t matter to me?” you shot back, taking a sip of your own drink.

He clicked his tongue and slammed the bottle down on the wooden table a bit harder than necessary.

“You still think this is a game, don’t you?”

“And you still think you know everything about me.”

His gaze swept over your face, like he was looking for a lie.

Like he wanted to see if there was a crack in your confidence, in your stance, in your tone.

But he found nothing. 

And that seemed to piss him off even more.

That same night, as dinner went on as usual, everyone was sitting around the table. 

It was one of those rare nights when Ward was home in time for dinner with you and his kids. Wheezie was chatting animatedly about her day, Sarah barely paying attention while staring at her phone, and Rafe… 

Rafe was staring at you.

Not in the usual way, with disdain or condescension.

No.

This time, his gaze lingered on one specific spot. 

Your cleavage. 

It was subtle at first, almost unnoticeable. But when you lifted your gaze, and his eyes took a second longer than usual to meet yours, you knew. 

It didn’t make you uncomfortable. 

But it did confuse you. 

What was he looking for? 

What was he thinking? 

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting. You simply looked back down at your plate, took your wine glass, and kept talking to Ward like nothing had happened. 

“I was thinking about going to New York next month,” your husband said, with his calm and calculated tone. “You should come with me.”

You smiled at him.

“I’d like that.”

He seemed pleased with your answer. His fingers brushed yours on the table, a soft but possessive gesture. 

You didn’t look at Rafe.

But you could feel his gaze still on you. 

Burning.

Analyzing.

Judging.

When dinner was over, Ward came over to you. 

He took your hand gently, but firmly, intertwining his fingers with yours. 

“I missed you today,” he murmured, leaning in closer to you.

He kissed your cheek first, then your lips. A quick kiss, but public enough for everyone to see. To make sure there was no doubt about who you were now.

You felt Rafe’s eyes on you two. 

You didn’t dare turn to look at him. 

You didn’t know what expression he had on his face. 

But as Ward guided you out of the dining room and toward the bedroom, you could feel Rafe’s gaze still fixed on you. 

Watching. 

Thinking. 

And that... 

That did make you uncomfortable.