#why did they grab me by the throat. suffering now

[asthroophile]

curtain call of the heart

iv. offstage confessions

pairing brant x fem!reader, modern high school au mutual pinning, childhood friends to lovers, might be ooc

summary: being friends with the theater club president means you have to accept the fact that you'll get dragged into acting in plays.

(n); this is the longest part i've ever written, it feels messy but i cant resist continuing it despite the pressure from assignments lol previous next...

you walked into the theater room again, determined to pretend nothing happened. unfortunately, your friends had other plans.

"y/n, i swear to god—” you barely had time to react before tina grabbed you by the shoulders.

"what?”

“I KNEW IT!” she shook you like a rag doll. “THAT WASN’T JUST ACTING, WAS IT?”

you blinked, “what are you—”

“brant! last night! the way he looked at you! the way he—oh my god, you two were basically in a romance drama!”

your soul nearly left your body, “tina—”

“don’t even try to deny it!” you absolutely tried to deny it.

“IT WAS ACTING!” you insisted, “it’s literally a drama club—what do you expect?”

tina squinted. “uh-huh, sure. and what about after rehearsal?”

your stomach dropped. “what about it?”

tina's smile stretched wider, “you think i didn’t see? you two left together. under the streetlights. it was so cinematic.”

you hated how she made it sound like some grand love story.

“nothing happened,” you deadpanned.

“are you sure about that?”

“i will actually leave.”

tina cackled, finally letting go of you. “fine, fine. but i still think there’s something going on.”

you rolled your eyes and made a beeline for your seat, praying that brant wouldn’t make things worse.

…he did.

because the second he walked in, he immediately sat next to you, draping an arm over your chair like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"morning,” he greeted, his voice laced with amusement.

you stiffened. so did tina. you could feel her eyes burning holes into the side of your head.

“…morning,” you muttered.

brant’s smirk deepened.

tina lost her mind.

you were this close to throwing yourself out the nearest window.

tina had been staring at you for the past ten minutes, her smug expression only growing more unbearable.

brant, still sitting way too close, rested his arm on the back of your chair like it belonged there.

it didn’t. at all.

"why are you looking at me like that?" you finally snapped.

tina smiled, too sweetly. "oh, no reason."

brant chuckled under his breath, and you had the sudden urge to kick him. before you could, the theater instructor walked in, mercifully putting an end to your suffering.

“alright, listen up,” she clapped her hands. “we need to start blocking the major scenes, which means our leads—” she gestured between you and brant, “—will be working very closely together today.”

you felt your soul leave your body for the second time that afternoon.

brant? he just looked way too entertained by all of this. of course he did.

“alright, this is the big moment.”

the instructor gestured between you and brant, standing together on stage.

“in this scene, your character finally realizes her feelings, but she’s afraid to admit it. she’s hesitant, and the tension is heavy.”

you already hated this. brant, meanwhile, looked like he was about to have the time of his life.

“got it?” the instructor asked.

you forced a nod, “yeah.”

“good. now, take it from the line where he reaches for her hand.”

brant didn’t hesitate. his fingers curled around yours, warm and steady. you almost yanked it away on instinct.

focus. it’s just acting. it’s fine.

his eyes softened, teasing glint replaced by something unreadable.

“you don’t have to pretend around me,” he said, slipping into character effortlessly. “you can be yourself.”

your throat tightened. “i-i don’t—”

the words caught somewhere between your brain and mouth.

brant’s grip on your hand lingered. “i mean it.”

you forgot your next line.

the instructor sighed. “y/n, relax! remember, you’re supposed to be struggling with your feelings, not struggling to function.”

oh. that was the issue.

not that brant was looking at you like that. not that your heart was actually racing. no, definitely not that.

brant tilted his head, amusement flickering in his gaze. “y/n, are you flustered?”

you instantly shoved him, “shut up.”

the instructor groaned. “alright, take two.”

you immediately fled the stage.

────

you barely made it to the hallway before tina cornered you.

“Y/N,” she grabbed your shoulders. “that was NOT ACTING.”

“yes, it was,” you lied.

“no, it wasn’t.”

“yes, it was.”

tina shook you. “GIRL.”

you groaned, prying her hands off. “i'm not doing this with you.”

“oh, you absolutely are.”

“tina, please.”

she crossed her arms. “look at me in the eyes and tell me you feel nothing when brant looks at you like that.”

you opened your mouth. then closed it.

tina gasped, “YOU LIKE HIM.”

"i do not!”

she pointed dramatically. “DENIAL.”

you groaned, "why are you so obsessed with this?”

“because literally everyone in this club has been waiting for you two to get together.”

you froze, "wait—what?”

tina's grin stretched wider. “oh yeah. everyone knows. except you.”

you felt like you were about to have an aneurysm. "you’re joking.”

“nope.”

“since when?!”

“since forever.”

you were going to pass out, then—

“everything okay here?”

you jumped. brant was right behind you. tina beamed. “oh, we’re great.”

brant raised an eyebrow. “you sure? you look like you’re about to murder her.”

“oh, don’t worry,” tina chirped. “we’re just having a fun little chat about how Y/N IS IN LOVE WITH YOU.”

your brain short-circuited.

brant blinked, “…huh?”

tina smiled, satisfied. “anyway, i’ll leave you two alone. have fun.”

and then she just—left.

abandoned you. with brant. who was now staring at you.

“…sooo,” he drawled. “anything you wanna tell me?”

oh. my. god. you needed to escape. RIGHT NOW.

brant was waiting for an answer, watching you with that mix of amusement and curiosity that only made everything worse.

your brain was screaming. your body? frozen.

brant tilted his head, "y/n?"

oh god. he said your name.

nope. NOPE.

you turned on your heel and walked away. briskly.

brant blinked. “…are you seriously running away right now?”

you walked faster.

"y/n."

faster.

"y/n, stop—"

you broke into a full sprint. you had no idea where you were going.

your brain was in full fight-or-flight mode, and since you had the combat skills of a potato, escape was your only option.

too bad brant had longer legs.

"y/n, for god’s sake—"

a hand caught your wrist. he stopped you effortlessly.

before you could yank yourself free, brant turned you around, forcing you to face him. and you were screwed.

because he was looking at you like that again—like you were the only thing that mattered.

oh no.

“you’re really running from this?” he asked, still catching his breath.

you refused to meet his eyes. "i don’t know what you’re talking about."

brant huffed a laugh. LAUGHED.

"this isn’t funny," you muttered.

"it’s kind of funny."

"brant."

his expression softened. “y/n.”

the way he said your name made your stomach flip.

“i'm not here to push,” he said quietly. “but if you feel something, just say it.”

your throat went dry. "and if i don’t?"

brant smiled. but this time, it didn’t reach his eyes.

"then i’ll let it go."

your chest tightened. because that was the problem, wasn’t it? you did feel something. you just didn’t know what to do with it.

and now, staring at brant, you knew you had to make a choice.

you took a shaky breath. then another.

brant just waited.

you licked your lips, forcing yourself to speak.

“…i’m scared.”

brant stilled.

that was not what he expected.

your hands curled into fists. “i don’t know how to do this, brant. i don’t know how to… feel like this. i don’t want to ruin everything.”

brant didn’t hesitate, he stepped forward and hugged you. tightly.

you? froze. slowly, you melted into him.

brant exhaled, his chin resting lightly against your hair. “you’re not gonna ruin anything.”

you wanted to believe that. maybe… maybe you could.

but—

“AWWWWWWWW!”

OH. MY. GOD. you ripped yourself away.

brant groaned, “you’ve got to be kidding me.”

the entire theater club was watching. ALL OF THEM. and they were CHEERING.

you wanted the earth to swallow you whole.

brant? brant just smirked.

“well,” he said, thoroughly amused, “i guess now we really have to talk about this.”

you were going to die. right here. right now.

this was it.

this was how you died.

not in some tragic accident. not by some dramatic twist of fate. but by sheer, soul-crushing, irreversible humiliation.

the entire club was still watching. some were whispering. some were smirking. and some? grinning like absolute maniacs.

brant, the walking disaster, just chuckled and stepped back—like he wasn’t responsible for your impending doom. your brain short-circuited.

NOPE. NOPE. NOPE.

fight-or-flight activated. this time? you were fighting.

you turned on him. “brant. i swear to god."

he blinked innocently, “what?"

“you. i hate you.”

brant’s smirk widened. “no, you don’t.”

“YES, I DO.”

he just laughed.

the club? eating this up.

“you two need a moment?” someone teased.

“I—WHAT?!” you choked.

brant, completely unbothered, shrugged. “nah, we’re good. y/n just needs time to process her feelings.”

your WHAT.

your brain crashed.

“MY WHAT?!”

brant’s grin grew downright insufferable. “your feelings. for me.”

the club lost it. someone actually screamed.

and you? you saw red.

────

you grabbed brant’s wrist. dragged him away from the chaos. he laughed the whole way. once you were far enough, you whirled on him.

“brant. what. the hell.”

he blinked. “what?”

“You did that on purpose.” brant just smirked.

“maybe.” your eye twitched.

“you’re insufferable.”

“nah,” he said, grinning. “i’m charming.”

you groaned.

brant's laughter softened. “relax. it’s not a big deal.”

"not a big deal? NOT A BIG DEAL?! I JUST GOT EXPOSED IN FRONT OF HALF THE CLUB.”

brant shrugged, “so? they already knew.”

…what.

“excuse me?” you asked, horrified.

brant's smile turned smug. “y/n, you’re not exactly subtle.”

your soul left your body AGAIN.

he laughed, “you really thought no one noticed?”

“I—WHAT—”

brant took a step closer. you froze.

“relax,” he murmured. “it’s just me.”

your heart did something weird. brant tilted his head, “you okay?”

you… weren’t sure. because this time, when he looked at you, you didn’t want to run.

brant didn’t say anything, just watched you with that same infuriating patience. he let you have your moment, let you fume, let you pretend you were'nt completely unraveling. and when you finally stopped—when your shoulders dropped and you breath evened out—he was still there. still waiting.

you didn’t know how long he had been standing there, watching you in silence. not pushing, not teasing—just waiting. like he always did. like he always would. and for once, it wasn’t annoying. it was terrifying.

his presence was overwhelming in the worst—and best—way possible.

“cat got your tongue?,” he said, voice softer now. almost cautious.

you snapped out of it, "no! no, it’s just—” you exhaled sharply, yanking your wrist from his hold. “you’re so annoying.”

brant grinned like that was a compliment.

“you love it," you did not. you absolutely did not…right? his teasing faded slightly, replaced by something softer. something dangerous.

brant sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “look,y/n…”

oh no. no, no, no. you knew that tone. that was brant about to say something serious. which meant—you were in trouble.

“i wasn’t kidding earlier,” he said, his usual smirk absent. “i meant it. i don’t care what anyone else thinks. it’s you, it’s always been you.”

your breath hitched. no. no, no, no—this wasn’t happening.

he was your best friend. your annoying, frustrating, infuriating best friend.

and yet, your stupid heart betrayed you. brcause for the first time, instead of running, instead of denying—you found yourself wondering, what if?

brant was still staring at you, still waiting for a response. and you? you were malfunctioning. you had to say something. anything.

but your brain chose violence, “you’re joking.”

brant blinked,“what?”

you folded your arms, desperate to rebuild your walls. “you flirt with everyone, brant. how am i supposed to believe this isn’t just another one of your stupid jokes?”

brant… didn’t laugh. for once, he didn’t smirk. instead, he looked… hurt.

“is that what you really think?” he asked, voice quieter now.

you hated that look. that look that made you feel like the worst person alive.

“i—i didn’t mean it like that,” you muttered, panicking.

brant sighed, rubbing his face. “you really don’t see it, do you?”

see what?

“you,” he murmured, shaking his head. “you’re the only one I actually—”

but before he could finish, you moved—taking a step back, trying to slip away like you always did.

brant’s hand shot out, fingers curling around your wrist. firm, but careful.

“y/n,” he said sharply, forcing you to meet his gaze.

they were alone, in the quiet hallway just outside the theater room, where the dim lights buzzed faintly overhead and the muffled chatter of others was far behind them.

“you deserve better,” you blurted out.

brant’s brows furrowed, “what do you mean?”

“i mean,” your voice wavered, eyes darting everywhere but him, “if we’re talking about… that way, about us… i don’t think i’m good enough for you.”

brant’s grip on your wrist loosened slightly, but he didn’t let go.

“i’m your opposite,” you said, eyes glossy now. “you’re everything i’m not. you light up every room, you make everyone laugh, you’re confident, outgoing, alive. and me…”

you clenched your jaw, tears threatening to fall. “i hide, i avoid people, i freeze up.”

brant’s mouth parted, speechless.

“and people will talk,” you added, your voice cracking. “they’ll say it’s wrong. that it doesn’t make sense.”

“i don’t care what they say,” he said.

“you should,” you whispered.

“i don’t,” he replied. “because they’re not me, and they’re not you.”

the air grew heavy between them, silence choking them both.

“you’re scared,” brant murmured. “but please don’t push me away like this.”

you blinked up at him, trembling.

“i’ve waited,” he whispered. “i’ll keep waiting. but don’t stand there and tell me i deserve better.”

tears finally broke free, sliding down your cheeks. “it’s not that simple.”

“yes, it is,” he insisted. “you’re the only one i want.” brant reached out, brushing the tears from your cheeks, his fingers warm against your skin.

your lips quivered. “i don’t want to lose you.”

“you won’t.”

“you don’t know that.”

his voice softened. “maybe not. but i’m willing to take that risk, if it’s you.”

your eyes squeezed shut as the fear tangled tighter inside your chest.

but when you opened them, brant was still there, holding on, unwavering. like he always did.

the silence stretched like a taut string as brant finally released her wrist, fingers brushing against her skin for a beat longer than necessary. your chest still ached from everything you just said—and everything you hadn’t.

brant let out a breath, raking his hand through his hair before quietly murmuring, “we’re done for today.”

you blinked, frowning. “wait… you mean rehearsal?”

he nodded, already turning toward the door.

“why?” you pressed, trailing after him.

brant glanced over his shoulder, the usual smirk curling on his lips despite the heaviness still lingering between them. “you sure wanna continue rehearsal?”

you slowed your pace, suspicious. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

he stopped just outside the doorway, leaning casually against the frame. his voice dipped lower, teasing. “i’m fine with continuing... but what about you? the way you look right now—with those puffy eyes?”

you face heated instantly, “brant—”

“don’t worry,” he cut in with a grin, “you’re still cute.”

you groaned, scrubbing your hands over your face. “you’re impossible.”

brant chuckled, pushing himself off the frame and walking ahead. “come on, before you start crying again and i get blamed for bullying you.”

“who says you’re not to blame already?” you muttered, following him despite herself.

the playful jab didn’t fully erase the tension, but it softened it. the banter felt like home. like them.

but deep down, they both knew they were just skimming the surface of something far deeper.

the hallway felt emptier than usual as they walked side by side, the echoes of their footsteps bouncing off the linoleum floor. the building was winding down for the day, with distant voices fading behind closed doors and the low hum of vending machines filling the silence.

you hugged your arms, staring straight ahead. you could still feel the ghost of his touch on her wrist. the weight of your conversation clung to you like a second skin, but brant… brant just strolled beside you like it was any other afternoon.

you peeked at him from the corner of her eye. his hands were buried deep inside his pockets, shoulders hunched slightly as he walked, head tipped toward the bruised sky as if hoping it might offer him a reprieve. the wind played with the loose strands of his deep teal hair flicking them across his lashes, but he didn’t seem to notice.

for once, brant—the boy who always carried the perfect comeback—looked like he wasn’t sure where to begin.

“you shouldn’t have ended rehearsal early,” you finally broke the silence.

brant gave a slow shrug, eyes still on the road ahead. “didn’t feel right to keep going."

“i could’ve handled it.”

brant’s reply was quiet, but firm. “maybe, but you didn’t have to.”

they reached the front doors of the school, where the late afternoon sun slanted through the glass, casting long shadows on the floor. outside, the golden light made the world look softer, calmer.

brant pushed open the door for you, and you stepped out into the fading day.

the walk home felt familiar but heavier now, like they were both tiptoeing around what had just happened. you could feel him glancing at you every now and then, waiting—always waiting—but never pushing too far.

“so…” brant started, hands still deep in his pockets, “should i talk about how i absolutely nailed that last scene, or would that ruin the brooding silence we’ve got going here?”

you let out a breath that was half a laugh. “i think the silence is fine.”

he nudged her again. “not for me.”

they kept walking, shoes scuffing the pavement. the quiet between them wasn’t suffocating this time—it was tentative, hanging somewhere between comfort and fear.

and neither of them dared to fully break it just yet.

as you turned the familiar corner toward the park, twilight draped itself around you, painting the streetlamps in hazy halos. the benches sat empty beneath swaying trees, except for two stray cats curled beneath the golden light, blinking lazily at the world passing you by.

brant’s laugh was soft, but carried through the hush of the evening. “reminds me of you."

you arched a brow. “what, the cats?”

“mmhm.” he nodded at you, smirking. “skittish, always darting away when i get too close.”

you huffed, rolling your eyes, but a small, reluctant smile betrayed you, "and yet you still follow.”

“guess i'm persistent.” his voice was lighter now, but when she glanced at him, there was something deeper sitting beneath the grin.

their eyes met, lingering for a second too long, before both of them looked away—too aware, too careful.

without thinking, you both slowed as you neared one of the old benches, yout footsteps syncing like muscle memory. the wood creaked faintly beneath you as you sat side by side, shoulders almost brushing but never quite touching.

you stared at the cracked pavement, feeling the weight of unsaid things pressing at your chest.

“you’re quiet,” brant murmured.

“you too,” you shot back, lips curling faintly.

“touché,” he chuckled.

the wind shifted, carrying the scent of damp earth and far-off rain. the world felt smaller here, like the park was a pocket of time just for them.

you bit your lip, hesitating. but the question clawed its way out. “you were serious earlier… weren’t you?”

brant’s playful mask faltered, replaced by something far softer. “i don’t joke about you, y/n.”

the words sank deep, leaving you scrambling for air. you wanted to say something—anything—but the lump in your throat made it impossible.

brant leaned in just slightly, voice gentler now. “you can try to keep me at arm’s length. but i'm not going anywhere.”

his proximity burned, and yet it felt safer than anything else.

so, in typical your fashion, you pivoted.

“persistent and clingy,” you teased under your breath. “you’re really the worst.”

brant grinned wide, that mischievous light flickering back into his eyes. “you mean charming and devoted?”

this time, the laughter came easily, melting some of the tension away.

for now, they allowed the soft breeze and dimming skies to wrap around them like an old friend—pretending, for just a little longer, that neither of them were standing on the edge of something terrifying.

the wind whispered through the trees, stirring loose leaves across the quiet park. brant’s gaze lingered on you, watching as you absently twisted the hem of your sleeve, you knuckles paling with every pull.

without a word, he shifted closer, slow and careful, like moving too fast might shatter the fragile thing between them.

his hand reached up, fingertips grazing your cheek before tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. the touch was featherlight, but it anchored you to the moment.

"i’ll be waiting for you,” brant murmured, voice barely louder than the wind. his thumb brushed softly against your temple. "always. no matter how long.”

your breath caught, lips parting to speak—but nothing came. your heart pounded so fiercely it felt like it might echo out loud.

then he added, softer now, voice thick with guilt, “i’m sorry i made you cry. i didn’t mean to push you like that.”

his hand stayed at the side of your face, steady, like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

“but…” brant’s voice cracked, a rare tremor breaking through, “please don’t push me away.”

you blinked, the sting of fresh tears threatening behind your lashes. your throat felt like it was closing up.

“i wasn’t going to,” you whispered, almost too fast, too rehearsed.

but your own thoughts betrayed you. weren’t you?

the voice in your head was quiet but undeniable. because deep down, you had been ready to push him away again. to protect yourself. to keep things the way they were—safe, distant.

the silence between them deepened, heavy with all the things neither of them were brave enough to admit yet.

you stared at the ground, voice trembling as you finally murmured, “give me some time.”

brant exhaled, his shoulders relaxing as though those words were more than enough for now.

“you have it,” he said, unwavering. "always. for you.”

his hand finally fell away, but the warmth lingered against her skin like an echo.

they sat like that for a while, side by side under the golden glow of the streetlamp, where neither dared to fill the quiet. not yet.

and maybe, just maybe, that was enough for tonight.

you sniffled softly, wiping at the corners of your eyes when a faint rustling broke their stillness. from under a bush, a stray cat padded cautiously toward you, its grey fur speckled with white. It meowed, small and curious, tail flicking as it approached.

your attention instantly shifted. your eyes softened, the heaviness in your chest lifting just a little.

“oh, hey there,” you whispered, crouching down slowly. the cat didn’t flinch, letting you extend a hand before nuzzling into your fingers.

brant watched you from the bench, lips parting slightly as if stunned. the streetlamp cast a soft, golden halo around your figure, catching in your lashes, brushing your face with warmth.

for a moment, the fragile, guarded you disappeared. here, with the stray cat purring against your palm, you looked radiant—serene, even.

without thinking, brant quietly pulled out his phone, thumb hovering over the camera. he hesitated.

but then youre laughed, a small, genuine sound that made something tug deep in his chest.

click.

he snapped the photo, smiling to himself as he watched you murmur softly to the cat, unaware of his gaze.

his heart swelled. how could you not see it? how could you not realize how effortlessly beautiful you were—how effortlessly yourself—when no one was watching?

“...are you gonna help me pet him or just stare like a creep?” your voice broke through his thoughts, teasing but gentle.

brant chuckled, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “i’m fine watching. you’re good at this.”

you arched a brow but let the smile linger as you stroked the cat’s fur. “i didn’t know you liked cats.”

“i like you,” he replied without missing a beat, eyes glinting mischievously.

you groaned, but there was no real heat behind it. “there it is. the flirting.”

brant leaned back on the bench, hands behind his head, grinning like he’d just won a prize. “just saying.”

underneath it all—their banter, the unsaid worries, the messy feelings—you stayed there together, with a stray cat nestled on your lap.

you went quiet, your hand absentmindedly stroking the cat that lay curled on your lap. the softness of its fur was a comforting distraction.

your gaze stayed on the small creature, fingers tracing gentle patterns behind its ear as if gathering the courage to respond.

then, without looking up, you finally whispered, you voice calm but tinged with quiet knowing,

"i know... you've made it pretty obvious."

and only then did your eyes flicker toward him, soft and unreadable, like you were holding back a smile.

brant let out a breathy laugh, though his chest ached with the weight of your words. “well,” he said, leaning back slightly, eyes never leaving you, “i was hoping you’d catch on sooner.”

there was no teasing in his voice, just a quiet relief, like he’d been holding those feelings back for too long.

his fingers gently grazed the edge of the bench, closer to you now. “but you always did like making me wait, huh?”

his smile softened, eyes tracing the way your hand continued to stroke the sleeping cat.

“and yet... here we are,” you added, voice barely above a whisper, like you were savoring the rare stillness between you.

"you’re different when it’s just us,” he murmured, voice low.

you didn’t look up, but your hand faltered for a second. “how so?”

brant tilted his head, a small smile playing at his lips. “softer. warmer.”

"am i usually cold, then?” you shot back, but your tone was light, almost playful.

“hmm, more like… you build walls around yourself,” he said, voice gentle. “but you forget i’ve always known where the door is.”

your lips twitched, almost smiling, but instead you huffed quietly. “you’re not supposed to know where it is.”

he chuckled. “hard not to.”

you finally looked at him, eyes reflecting the soft light overhead. “you notice too much.”

you sat in silence for a while, the night deepening around them. the distant hum of cars, the breeze rustling through the leaves, and the rhythmic purring of the cat created a cocoon of quiet.

"you know,” brant started, voice softer now, “i like you like this.”

you frowned. “like what?”

“just… here,” he said, searching for the right words. “not running away, not hiding behind a snarky comment or a rehearsal schedule.”

you bit your lip, your gaze falling back to the sleeping cat. “it’s easier when it’s quiet like this.”

brant’s hand brushed lightly against yours on the bench—tentative, waiting. you didn’t pull away.

“then let’s stay quiet,” he whispered.

you heart thrummed in your chest as you allowed you pinky to hook around his. it was small, but to him, it felt like the world.

brant leaned back on the bench as he watched you petting the cat again. his lips tugged into a pout.

“can you stop giving that cat all your attention?” he grumbled.

you raised a brow without looking at him, “what is it now?”

he huffed, feigning dramatic offense. “i've been sitting here beside you all this time, and then this furball shows up outta nowhere and steals your attention. that’s not fair.”

you blinked, processing his complaint before a laugh escaped you. “what the hell, brant—that’s so…”

you trailed off, eyes twitching like you couldn’t decide whether to be annoyed or amused.

“so you,” you finished with a shake of your head, lips twitching into a reluctant smirk. “jealous of a stray cat. that’s a new low.”

brant shot you a crooked grin. “hey, i don’t like sharing.”

you scoffed, petting the cat just to spite him. “too bad. looks like you’ve got competition now.”

“oh, don’t worry,” brant leaned in slightly, lowering his voice with that familiar teasing lilt, “i’m very good at winning.”

you cheeks warmed, but you masked it with an eye roll. “sure you are.”

maybe, for tonight, things were okay between them. and somehow, that felt like the safest place in the world.

© asthroophile 2025 do not repost, plagiarize

[sunnysidesevenup]

most patient listener in the world x guy who is literally incapable of shutting the fuck up

[connorsui]

“Out of all the things that could have happened today... this is at the bottom of the list,” Megumi deadpanned, his arms crossed as he watched the floating toddler.

Yuuji, on the verge of losing it, waved his hands frantically. “How do we get her down!? Gojo-sensei is going to be coming back soon!”

“I didn’t even know she had this much cursed energy to begin with! How is it possible she’s already out and about like this!?” Nobara added, eyes wide with disbelief.

Before anyone could come up with a solution, the giggling toddler blinked out of existence, causing all three students to simultaneously shout, "Eh!?"

“She’s...” Megumi began.

“She’s gone!?” They all said in unison, now staring at the empty space where the child once was.

“What do we do!?” Yuuji panicked, grabbing at his hair.

“This wouldn’t have happened if Kugisaki hadn’t demanded we go out on one of her shopping sprees!” Megumi shot back.

“Oi! Don’t you dare pin this on me! You two were supposed to be the ones looking after her!” Nobara snapped, pushing Megumi with a sharp glare.

Before the argument could escalate, a familiar, lazy voice interrupted them.

“Now, now, let’s not fight over something soo cute.”

All three turned, only to find Gojo Satoru standing a few feet away, his wife by his side, cradling their daughter in her arms. The toddler was happily babbling and playing with her mother’s hair, seemingly unaware of the chaos she had caused.

“Gojo-sensei…” Yuuji mumbled, face turning pale.

“Umm... where did she teleport to?” Nobara asked cautiously.

Gojo grinned behind his blindfold. “Not too far. You kids are lucky... my precious little bundle of joy decided to teleport straight to us!”

You smiled warmly at the trio before your expression turned more concerned. “Are you three okay? Yuuji, you look like you’re—”

“I’m fine!” Yuuji interrupted quickly, attempting a smile that only made him look more distressed.

Nobara cleared her throat. “Are we going to get punished for this by any chance?”

Gojo tilted his head, pretending to consider. “Hmm, I don’t know... Let’s ask the missus here.” He turned to you with a teasing grin. “What do you think, my love? Should we punish these kids for allowing our precious baby of adorable life to almost get away?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, a playful glare crossing your face. “Punish them? If anyone’s getting punished, it’s going to be you, Satoru! You were supposed to be watching her!”

Megumi, Nobara, and Yuuji watched in stunned silence as you and Gojo bickered, their eyes darting between the two of you. Gojo’s dramatic pout grew deeper as you scolded him.

“I leave her with you, and everything just goes to chaos!”

Gojo’s shoulders slumped, his exaggerated sulking only causing your daughter to giggle harder as she watched her father silently sulk. “cmoonnnn you know I didn't mean too?”

You cut him off with a sigh, adjusting your hold on your daughter, who had now buried her face in your neck. “sure you dont”

The three students shifted awkwardly as Gojo dramatically sighed once more, still sulking. He leaned in toward his daughter, who was still giggling at his antics.

“Your mom is so scary, you know that?”

You rolled your eyes. “I heard that.”

Gojo laughed, his usual carefree demeanor back in full force. “Alright, alright. No harm done, right? She’s back safe and sound. So, no punishment for the kids. I think I’ve suffered enough.”

You smiled softly at him, shaking your head. “You’re impossible, Satoru.”

“But thats why yooou loooove me,” he teased, flashing you that signature smile.

Despite everything, you couldn’t help but laugh. “Unfortunately for me, yes.”

Behind you, the trio silently muttered to themselves: “why do we have to deal with this"

[angelfic]

dc vs vampires!dick grayson x reader [ part two ]

warnings — mentions of death, weapons, blood, vampire dick duh. unedited as per usual my bad

a/n; vampire dick gets me going like no other so let me know if i should make this a series… a more fleshed out series or just more drabbles (does this count as a drabble?) idk im asking the audience

dc vs vampires!DICK GRAYSON who allows you to stay human, as a kindness.

you try your best to hide from him, camping out in different bunkers every few months all over blüdhaven with groups of other survivors. the resistance is slowly dwindling and you know of other groups littered around, hearing tales of how each of them are being turned, imprisoned or simply wiped out.

you know he’s sparing you and the people you’re with to play with your mind. he doesn’t truly care for them, and all he wants to do with you is own you like he does the rest of his followers.

you know this, because he comes to visit you in the dead of night when you’re alone.

“hi, sweetheart,” he says, voice as smooth as ever, but you listen intently for the dangerous edge that wasn’t there before.

he steps forward and your stomach swoops as it does every time you see the startling red of his eyes that seem to glow in the flickering light of your room. you instinctively grab the knife tucked away in the waistband of your pyjamas, unsheathing it and gripping it tightly as you raise it in front of him.

“stay back,” you warn, unable to say his name.

he glances down at your knife, and grins wolfishly, revealing the sharp tips of his fangs. “hot,” he whispers, taking a step toward you unflinchingly. “you know i always did love seeing you with a weapon. never thought you’d be turning it on me though…”

he sighs deeply, as if suffering from temporary amnesia. you shake your head, slowly backing up. “you’re insane. you know exactly why. i just don’t understand why you don’t just kill me like you’ve done all the rest.”

dick’s smirk falters for a moment, but his confidence doesn’t waver. “kill you?” he echoes, advancing further. “no, no, i saved you. i could have turned you that night, but i didn’t. because i wanted you to choose, sweetheart.”

“choose?” you hiss, gripping your weapon tighter. “to become one of them? to join you in slaughtering humanity? the same humanity you once loved.”

his expression remains blank, and your heart clenches at the fact that he’s unaffected by your words. he doesn’t care because he physically can’t anymore.

“you’re thinking too small,” he says softly. “humanity was always heading in this direction… all i’ve done is speed it up. i can control it now. no more of the depravity we used to witness, we can be so much stronger. especially with you by my side.”

“yeah,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “me at your side, watching you rule over everything like some kind of God?”

the next step he takes has you frozen. his presence was overwhelming and you’re paralysed by the way his gaze softens even though you know that every move is calculated. “i don’t want to be a God,” he murmurs, cold fingers reaching down to brush gently up your forearm, making you shiver. “i just want you.”

his words hit you like a punch to the chest and all you can do is stare at him. he’s terrifying, but so, so beautiful. you’re sickened by the thoughts running through your head and you screw your eyes shut.

dick takes the opportunity to reach up with his other hand to brush your hair away from your neck, leaning in to inhale deeply.

too late, you realise, his fangs are out as they’re hovering over your throat, threatening to break skin and allow your blood to flow onto his tongue. he always talks about how sweet you’d taste, how badly he wants to drink from you. you don’t bother stopping him — you couldn’t if you tried. surprisingly, he seems content with just staying there and you find your voice eventually.

“stop it,” you whisper, voice trembling. “stop trying to mess with me. i know who you are now and it isn’t the man i loved.”

dick lifts his head, not bothering to increase the distance between the two of you, allowing you to see the way his expression turns troubled. “i’m still me,” he mutters, careful not to let his fangs show as he pleads with you in the way he once did to earn your forgiveness. “i swear, that hasn’t changed.”

“you are not the man i loved,” you enunciate, tears stinging your eyes as you repeat your words to him like you do to yourself in the early hours of the morning when you can’t sleep.

dick’s expression darkens. he catches a stray tear with his finger and tilts his head. his voice is slightly colder now, more detached. “you still love me. i can feel it. but it’s alright, i’m a patient man.”

he drops a kiss to your cheek, where the tears threatened to flow before stepping backwards. “i’ll be back, sweetheart,” he murmurs, reassuring you as if you’ve begged him to stay.

and with that, he’s gone. disappearing into the shadows as quickly as he had arrived.

you collapse to the ground, knife forgotten at your side. your heart feels like it’s breaking all over again.

because this isn’t your dick grayson. you know deep down that your dick doesn’t have pale, ghostly skin that makes you flinch when he touches you. or fangs that glint menacingly when he talks.

but it’s a little hard to remember all those things when he looks at you with those eyes, that in the dimly lit bunker, look as lovingly at you as they used to.

a/n cont.; im gnawing at the gates of dick’s vampire manor begging to be let in so he can turn me… pick me, choose me, bite meeee🧛🏻🤍

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Spicy Noodles Challenge

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: paige being a tease, Paige almost losing her life.

Paring: Paige Bueckers x fem reader x Azzi Fudd

Fandom: UConn's Women's basketball

Summary: spicy ramen and sheer willpower

TikTok Live was rolling, the ring light illuminating my face as I stared at the terrifyingly red bowl of noodles in front of me. Aubrey and Caroline sat beside me, all of us mentally preparing for what we were about to endure. The rest of the UConn women’s basketball team was gathered around us, off-camera but fully invested in our suffering.

"Alright, y’all," Aubrey said dramatically, looking at the screen. "We’re doing the spicy noodle challenge, and I already know I’m not making it out alive."

"Me either," Caroline added, shaking her head. "Why did I let y’all talk me into this?"

I scoffed. "Y’all got nothing to worry about. I have a reputation to uphold."

The comments were already flying in.

@p.y.aluver: "Y/n's about to humble everyone."

@UConnsfavtoy: "Paige and Azzi gon’ clown her if she starts crying."

@Purplepaigepurples: "Why do I feel like Aubrey is gonna tap out first?"

Paige and Azzi were standing behind me, flanking either side like my own personal hype squad—and personal menace squad. Paige rested her chin on the top of my head, peering down at my bowl.

"You sure about that, babe?" she teased. "‘Cause that looks lethal."

Azzi smirked, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. "Don’t get cocky now. You know you can’t handle spice."

I nudged her off me. "Y’all are so fake. Where’s the encouragement?"

Azzi patted my back. "You got this, baby."

Paige shrugged. "Yeah. You got this, but if you cry, just know I’m laughing."

KK Arnold snickered from the side. "You already know Paige and Azzi about to be the worst cheerleaders."

"I am offended," Paige said dramatically. "I support my girl in every way."

Azzi nodded. "Yeah, we just support her… with a little bit of clowning included."

Aubrey clapped her hands. "Okay, okay, less talking, more suffering. Let’s go."

We counted down together.

"Three… two… one—go!"

I took my first bite, and immediately, I felt the heat punch me in the throat. The spice didn’t creep up—it attacked. My tongue burned, my lips tingled, and my throat felt like I had swallowed actual fire.

Beside me, Aubrey was already gagging. "Nah. Nope. I’m out."

Caroline had taken one bite and was chugging her water like her life depended on it.

I powered through, despite my taste buds screaming at me to stop. My eyes watered, my nose was already running, and I could feel Paige and Azzi watching me, waiting for me to break.

"You good, baby?" Azzi asked, rubbing my back.

I nodded, swallowing another bite. "Yup."

Paige tilted her head. "Are you crying?"

I shot her a glare. "No."

The comments were going crazy.

@paxazxyn35: "Y/N IS STRUGGLING OMG LMAOOO."

@aubreyslefttoe: "Paige just wants to see her suffer 💀"

@ynrealluver: "Aubrey is already gone, Caroline is barely hanging on, but Y/N IS STILL FIGHTING."

Azzi handed me a napkin as I sniffled. "Babe, your nose—"

I wiped my nose quickly, taking another bite even though my throat felt like sandpaper.

"She’s fighting for her life," Ice Brady laughed.

"Ice, be useful and get me some milk," I croaked out, voice slightly hoarse.

Paige raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you need something?"

I exhaled, trying to cool my mouth down. "Yes, I need milk, now."

Paige smirked, holding up a glass of milk she had magically produced from somewhere. "I’ll give it to you… but you gotta kiss me for it."

I stared at her, deadpan. "Paige. Madison. Bueckers, if you don’t hand me that damn milk—"

Azzi, bless her soul, grabbed a different glass from the side and handed it to me before I committed a crime. "Here, baby."

I immediately chugged the milk, sighing in relief as the burn subsided slightly.

Paige pouted. "Wow, Azzi. You’re ruining my fun."

Azzi rolled her eyes. "You were gonna ruin your own fun when she knocked you out on live."

I slammed my glass down dramatically, after regaining the ability to truly speak. "I WIN. I FINISHED IT ALL."

The team burst into cheers and laughter, clapping for me.

"A TRUE CHAMPION," Aubrey declared, even though she had up two minutes ago.

Caroline wiped her own watery eyes. "I don’t know how you did that."

"Sheer willpower," I said, sniffling.

Paige kissed the top of my head. "Proud of you, baby. Even though you look like you just fought for your life."

Azzi cupped my cheeks, looking at me with faux concern. "Do you regret it, though?"

I leaned into her hands, sighing dramatically. "Yes."

Paige and Azzi both laughed before kissing me on either cheek at the same time.

"Never doing that again," I mumbled, still sniffling.

The chat was blowing up with laughing emojis and comments, but the best part? The stolen kisses, the teasing, and the way my girlfriends never let me suffer too much.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[gutghost]

Imagine you get cheated on...BUT- the cheater turns kinda...yandere?

It felt like an awful nightmare. Bile rising in your throat as you looked at your lover - the person who you loved through their highest and their lowest, the person who you invested blood sweat and tears into, the person you promised yourself to - undoubtedly pressing their lips to another person's. It took a hot minute before you tried to step back, only for you to bump into the doorway, causing a loud thump. The two looked at you, one with horror, the other with confusion. It took you no time to turn around and make a run for it. A hiccup making its way out of your throat as you felt a sob start to shake through your body.

It's been afew months, well. More then few months since that incident, and safe to say you have been doing...fine. not great, but fine. You've decided to collect your things while your lover was away from the house, your friends and family helping you out as you found a new place to live. It was bare bones, considering you didn't take the shared couch, or tv, dressers, not even bed. But it was yours, and you've been getting by. You'd like to think you've gotten stronger.

That was until odd things started happening around your apartment. Things were being moved, shit you know you wouldn't misplace. Your clothes were going missing, much to your dismay. You barely had any, so to lose even one shirt was frustrating. Then roses started appearing in vases in your home. Seeing as actual items were showing up you decided to call the police, and when it seemed that the window to your bedroom was broken, seemingly from an outside force, they told you to invest in better security as they kept a look out.

Which is why you were going to the store so late at night, I mean, what could go wrong?

bad decision, you later decided as you looked at the scene infront of you. Your throat tight, bile rising, just like that night, the night you lost your true love. In front of you was your lover - now ex - looming disheveled, gasping for air as their voice broke, a small, unnerving, almost crazed look, crossing their features.

"My love, my everything, oh please-"

"Dont."

Your lip trembles as you step back, your look of surprise quickly turning into that of anger. They had no right to call out to you with such fondness, not after what they put you through. The pain and suffering, all due to the person who swore to love you.

A look of hurt crossed their face at the sight of you backing away from them, as if you kicked a puppy. The idea sickened you. Quick to try and close the space once more as they struggled to walk straight they would stumble forward. Their voice trembling as they fell to their knees, a whimper coming from them as they scrambled to grab at your sweatpants.

"Please - my love I beg of you, I know what i did was sin, I know - I've never been more sick in the mind then i was that night, oh I was so stupid, thinking I could ever so much as THINK of another woman! Even more so after wards, how could I think I could ever live without you??? You! Oh precious you, the sun only shines when you are near. Those next few weeks were torture my dear, I've never wanted anything more then to RIP MY SKIN OFF WHEN I REALIZED MY MISDEEDS."

Their insane rambling continued as you tried to shove them off, tears starting to stream down their gaunt cheeks. Had they been eating? You wondered as you tried to get them off you.

"I'm...i'm better now though! I've never been thinking clearer, I came to a realization life isn't worth living without you! But by then- you...- you had already left, I tore through that house to try and find you but you had already been far gone. I asked your family, your friends - but all of them simply turned me away, your LOVER - isn't that what I am? I am, aren't i?? They should've...they-"

You couldn't listen to this anymore. A disgusted feeling filling your gut. What did you ever see in them?? You quickly shoved them away, a small gasp coming from them as you stepped away, your ex lover falling backwards onto the sidewalk. A look so firey resting on your face it could rival the heat from the depths of hell.

"You lost that right. You lost it the moment you took that person into your arms, the moment you brought them into our home, the moment you pressed your lips against theirs."

They seemed dumbfounded, sobs starting to wash over their body as they tried to sputter out apologies. But you had none of it.

"Did you get a kick out of it? Seeing me suffer? Seeing me jealous as you placed your hands on that person's? Your lips on them? When i left did you just go right back to kissing on them? Fucking them??"

You spat at them, your ex lover crying their heart out as they struggle to breathe. Whether it be from guilt or heartbreak, you weren't sure. They shook their head as they continued to cry, trying once again to reach out to you, to hold onto you for that comfort you once so readily gave them. But you stepped back, putting space between you once more. A scoff coming from you as you did so

"Baby please don't do this to me, please please please-"

Their voice wavered heavily. Some part of you, the part buried deep down in your heart, ached at the sight of them so broken down. They looked ill, both mentally and physically. But what done was done. You quickly turned on your heels as you made your way home. Your ex lovers cries filling the street as he urged you to come back, to not leave him. To not abandon him.

Maybe some sick part of you felt good that you left them a blubbering mess, after all. They rept what they sown, did they not?

Little did you know, oh how blissfully unaware you were. They were gonna get you back, one way or another. They will have you back in their arms, with all those roses they left in your apartment in pretty vases all over your newly bought home in the woods, far from everyone.

They will have you be their's again.

that corpse that once used to be their side piece left rotting under the concrete of their basement proves it.

[sincerelybubbles]

s. reid x fem!reader \\ sleepless

Spencer, running on approximately three hours of sleep and an unsettling amount of caffeine, goes on an unprompted tangent at 3 A.M.

She stirs, blinking blearily at the clock on the nightstand. 3:12 A.M.

A groan drags from her throat as she burrows deeper into the pillows. "Spencer, why are you awake?"

There’s a pause. A brief, deceptive moment of silence.

And then, from the other side of the bed—

"Did you know that octopuses have three hearts?"

She exhales slowly, pressing her face into the mattress as if she can physically escape the conversation. "Spencer."

"And that when they sleep, they sometimes change colors, which suggests they might be capable of dreaming? Isn’t that amazing?"

She forces her eyes open and rolls onto her side, peering at him through the dim light. He’s lying on his back, eyes wide and unblinking, his hands gesturing subtly even as he speaks, the restless energy of his thoughts spilling out into movement.

"Spence," she murmurs, rubbing at her face. "Go to sleep."

"I can't," he says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "I accidentally drank an espresso at 11 P.M. and now I’m thinking about cephalopods."

She inhales deeply, stares at the ceiling. "Of course you are."

Silence, for a beat. A pause, just long enough for her to think—maybe, maybe—he's done.

And then—

"Also, sloths can hold their breath longer than dolphins."

She lets out a low, suffering noise and grabs the nearest pillow. With what little energy she can muster, she lobs it at him. It lands with a soft thump against his chest.

He catches it, startled, before shifting onto his side to face her, grinning through the darkness. "That wasn’t very nice."

"You waking me up to talk about sloths wasn’t very nice," she counters, voice muffled against the blankets.

Another beat of silence.

And then, quieter—she can practically hear him fighting the urge—

"Did you also know that sea otters have a special pocket in their armpits where they keep their favorite rocks?"

She groans, reaching blindly for another pillow. He’s already laughing before she even throws it, a soft, breathy sound that makes it difficult to stay annoyed, even at this ungodly hour.

The pillow misses. Barely. He shifts just in time, and it flops uselessly against the mattress instead of hitting its mark.

"Okay, okay," he says, hands raised in surrender, but his voice is still full of barely contained amusement. "I’ll stop."

She eyes him suspiciously, one hand hovering over the remaining pillow in silent warning. "You sure?"

A pause.

Then, far too innocently—"Did you know that wombat poop is cube-shaped?"

A frustrated noise tears from her throat as she abandons her pillow strategy entirely, rolling over to shove at his shoulder. "Spencer!"

He laughs again, unrepentant, and somehow, she finds herself smiling despite her exhaustion. It’s hard not to, when he’s like this—giddy from lack of sleep, running entirely on caffeine and the endless stream of knowledge constantly bouncing around his brain.

She sighs, dragging a hand down her face before opening her arms. "C’mere, genius."

Spencer stills. Blinks at her. "What?"

She gestures, barely suppressing another yawn. "Come here. Lay down."

There’s a moment of hesitation, like he’s trying to figure out if this is some kind of trap. But eventually, he shifts, sliding closer, tucking himself against her. She guides his head to her chest, fingers threading through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp in slow, rhythmic motions.

He melts almost instantly. The tension in his body eases, and the weight of him against her is warm, solid. His breathing evens out, slower, deeper.

"Feels nice," he mumbles, voice already thick with impending sleep.

"Mm," she hums, still stroking his hair. "Good. Now shut up and go to sleep."

A beat of silence. Then, so faint she almost doesn’t catch it—

"…Did you also know that ducks can put half their brain to sleep while the other half stays awake—?"

She tugs lightly at his hair in warning.

He lets out a drowsy chuckle. "Okay, okay. I’m done."

She waits. One second. Two. Three.

And then, finally—Spencer sighs, shifts a little closer, and lets himself drift.

[drgnflyteabox]

red ochre [5]

series masterlist previous || part five -> kermes || part six -> madder

> summary: big nun, little nun > tags/warnings: guilt, religious / moral turmoil, stockholm syndrome, child abuse (past), scars, simon returns, corruption (past), misogyny (past), whipping (past), blood, suffering (past mostly), power imbalance, freeze response (past), guilt, dissociation, dom/sub dynamics, we're learning consent (kinda? eeh), violent imagery, dubcon/noncon, vaginal fingering, choking, throat grab

When Johnny asks how it felt to go from there – the convent, you think he means – to here, you can only describe it as dunking your hands into ice water. 

Shocking, painful, and prickling all over.

He only says hm, and moves on. His face is pensive. You don’t tell him that sometimes, you wake up and aren’t in the water anymore.

Even in prayer, you hadn’t thought as much as you had since you’d been taken. Hadn’t worried as much. Teachings from adults since youth had told you that everybody was inherently sinful, even children.

So why is the community around you so happy without God? They have their own, you know this, but the multitude of them and their roles in divine hierarchy aren’t necessarily about absolute power.

There are woman-Gods, Gods without designations, Gods for the earth and the children and unions between people. You find it hard to continue calling them heretics, devils, when they’re really just people. Different, yes, strange and incomprehensible, but people nonetheless.

Heathens, you try to think. Heathens, devils. They took you

You wonder when the last time you thought of yourself as just a person was, when you weren’t a thing set within a rigid mold, beaten down in more ways than one.

On the eve of Simon's return you catch Johnny doing something secretive. He's hunched over the table, the tip of his tongue stuck out of his mouth in concentration. The soft sound of scraping, of wood gently knocking is all you can hear over the fire.

“What's that?” you ask, when your curiosity gets the best of you.

Johnny turns, one eye squinted, the every picture of concentration. He holds up a carved figure – a woman, it looks like. Ah, it’s you. Though hard to tell, the woman wears a veil and sits on a chair, hunched.

Your veil. You’d nearly forgotten what it felt like. It used to be a weight, heavy and pressing, a shackle. Now you miss the safety of not feeling so exposed all the time.

Somewhere in the journey here it had been lost, or maybe thrown overboard. Your habit, too, replaced for the woolen Viking-style dresses bought and bartered for by Simon and Johnny. Even you have to admit you enjoy the colours more, even if the conformity of the convent felt safe.

“How long were you watching me?” you breathe, eyes wide and still staring.

“Not long, lamb,” he smiles disarmingly. “Ah just remember ye, sittin’ pretty.”

“Working on the tapestry,” you correct him, though it doesn’t really matter.

He looks back down to his little figure, pensive.

“Ah guess so,” he says jovially.

“It was my punishment,” you add. This probably matters even less, but the clash of worlds has thrown you off balance. You feel unbearably present, unbearably lucid.

I was a nun, you think. Am I still a nun?

“Punishment?” he frowns. “Ah thought they struck ye?”

“Sometimes. But sometimes I had to work extra hard.”

“Like a bairn?”

“A what?”

“A child, lamb,” he smiles again.

You look into the fire, thinking. Punishment applied to everyone, not just children, no? Even Simon and Johnny had punished you. But who had given them the right? Had you, with your secret want? Your secret lustful sin?

“You punished me,” you settle on.

“Aye, we did,” he nods. “Ye needed it.”

“Then why do you… ah, disparage the church for doing the same?”

He turns to you.

“Ah think ye got it all wrong,” he says simply. “We don’t give it to ye to make ye hurt. Aren’t ye better after? Righted?”

Righted. That’s a word worth its weight in gold. As is the truth of his words, but you stay quiet and look into the fire instead of responding.

You take up Johnny’s offer to spend time with Kari. Johnny walks you there, holds your hand in the cold and blows hot air on them as you wait together outside their door.

When Gaz opens it, he hoots and hollers as if the frigid air outside has no effect on him, as if his inner warmth and naturally excitable disposition is no match for the cold.

You have to admire that. At least a little.

“Hi there,” Gaz says to you, a greeting softer than the one he gave Johnny.

“Hello,” you try to subtly peek inside, “it’s… nice to see you.”

He doesn’t take offence to your awkward, stilted attempt at politeness. Maybe he knows you’re not quite comfortable here, to put it lightly, and only claps your shoulder gently to pull you in.

“Have fun!” Johnny shouts, already leaving, “and give me my wife back in one piece!”

That makes you sheepish, but you try to ignore your feelings in favour of moving towards Kari and the little baby, Tyra.

“Hello again,” she greets, smiling. The baby stares at you, babbles ceasing as if she’s seeing you for the first time. Her little head swings towards her mother, hiding despite her clear curiosity.

“You’ve met me before,” you say softly, trying valiantly not to frighten her as you take a seat opposite to Kari.

“She’s feeling shy lately,” Kari looks down and tuts, swiping a thumb over Tyra’s chubby cheek, “needs her mama.”

Weaving here is not much different than weaving at the convent. Once you get the basics down, you’re threading dyed wool into cloth astride Kari.

Some spirit of confidence grips you.

“Will you tell me anything about Simon and Johnny?”

“About-” she lifts her head, “Simon and Johnny? Don’t they speak to you?”

“They - do,” you rush to assure her, though your voice maintains a weary unsureness.

Luckily for you, she gives you a small but comforting smile over the wool.

“You’re looking for an outside opinion? That’s okay, lovely girl, I just might not know as much about them as my husband does,” she gestures with her chin towards Gaz, who walks towards you both.

“What d’you need to know?” he asks casually, sidling up to Kari affectionately, “think they’ll be able to answer better than me.”

“I only really know… what I’ve seen. I haven’t…” your mouth twists as you trail off, frustration germinating as you struggle. Right, you can commit sins of the flesh but you can’t ask a question to sate curiosity — one which might be the difference between surviving and not surviving.

Knowledge is important, after all. Powerful. You think of Eve, who doomed humanity for it, naked as the day she was born and as clueless as Adam yet ate the apple anyway.

“I know they’re… warriors,” you pause, “since they’re all scarred, but—“

“Well, not necessarily—” Kari starts, until Gaz puts a palm on her thigh and gives her a look you can’t discern. 

“That’s not something we should share,” Gaz says tightly, but kindly.

“How else..?” you frown.

Tyra stirs, and Kari gives Gaz another look.

“Simon’s father used to be chief,” she lifts the babe back into her lap, patting, cooing, “it’s not a nice story, but if you need it to understand them better then I don’t mind telling it.”

“I want to know about them,” you insist, trying to push past the sense of danger, the sense that you’ll be hurt or killed for toeing out of line.

Testing the elasticity of safety here perhaps isn’t wise, but testing it might be what you need to settle. Knowing where the boundaries are, what’s expected, where they come from… you wonder if you’ll doom everybody, like Eve.

“Believe it or don’t, but we’ve only just rekindled the hunts, the raids. How it should be,” she starts.

Gaz sighs, leaning back where he’s sitting. You assume his hesitance is out of loyalty for his comrades, but you choose tentatively to ignore him in favour of his wife.

“We had a lazy, drunken leader,” Kari continues, “Simon’s father inherited the title through lineage, not through prowess as is… more natural to us.”

You nod slowly, trying to imagine. In the church, such things were often gained with corruption: any wealthy lords’ son could rise high in the ranks, if he had the money and means.

The convent had somewhat of a similar issue, though the women were ‘married’ into the church and the power rested in the hands of their families. 

Such was the world.

Not always, but you’d heard of it often enough. One of the abbots of the monastery in the closest town had been the son of an affluent donator, and thus received power of authority over the other monks.

“To make a long story short, and more respectful to Simon—” Gaz looks at her then “—his father was needlessly cruel both to his own children, his wife, and to those he was responsible for.”

“So, those scars…?”

“Some are from fighting, of course. But usually, no one’s getting close enough to those two to land that kind of damage. I’m sure you can fill in the rest.”

Gaz butts in here,  “or, you can ask him yourself.”

“How did that woman, I forgot her name, come to be chief?” you frown in thought.

Gaz takes over again, his hand dragging up from the small of his wife's back and squeezing her nape. It’s as much of a warning as you’ve seen, though it’s quiet and Kari looks sheepish, not afraid, “Kate challenged him.”

“A challenge?” you frown, “such as?”

“A fight to the death.”

“Oh,” your lips close, and thin, and your eyebrows fly up. “I didn’t realize… I mean, violence is…”

They don’t do you the courtesy of filling in for you, so you go silent and the air settles.

Johnny picks you up later, when you’ve helped Kari with a big portion of her weaving. You love the threads, the dyeing process. It’s meditative.

“Good ?” Johnny nudges your side, slipping a hand to just above your waist, fingers tickling the side of your breast.

“Yes,” and it’s honest.

He walks you home, hand in hand, and cannot stop talking about Simon's return.

“Ah’ve never been without him this long,” he rambles over the fire, stirring a potato soup, “think yer gonnae be witness to something dirty. Sorry, lamb.”

Only he’s grinning, and he’s not sorry, and you can see the front of his pants begin to tent.

Johnny later offers you that very same sin, tilting his hips towards you and swinging his cock obscenely, cheekily. You do not take him up on it despite the smolder that begins between your legs – you simply turn, and try to sleep through the sounds of his self-abuse.

Simon returns without much fanfare, slipping into the house with a seemingly practiced silence. He moves like a ghost.

Johnny doesn't wake yet, sleeping like an affectionate log behind you.

His gaze meets yours, as impassive as always, framed in a halo of white winter light. He looks handsome this way, though it also has the effect of making his scars look deeper – crevasses on his face for shadows to lay in.

You watch as he strips his winter garments, slipping then beside you, evening out the weight on the bed.

“How did it go?” you whisper. If he's surprised that you spoke he doesn't show it, staring up at the ceiling, muscles decompressing. Sighing like a big dog.

In lieu of speaking, he lifts something into your focus. Oh, it's a tooth, sharp and white. A predator's tooth.

“The rest tomorrow,” he says quietly.

You can tell he's tired. His face looks weary. How far do they travel for these hunts? You assume quite far, as it’s enough to tire even a seasoned warrior.

So, rather than speaking, asking him from which creature he took this tooth, you tentatively reach your hand up to press your fingers against his thick scars.

Simon freezes, as do you. Then, as he relaxes, you trace the grooves on his face with your fingers tightly. Very lightly.

A delicate moment is born then. Johnny's deep, sleepy breathing behind you, Simon's acquiescence – it's a tranquil thing. As thin as lace, as sweet as a crisp apple.

After some time, when you've traced his face twice over and his eyes are half-lidded, you speak softly.

“Why me?”

“You're beautiful,” he says simply, sighing again, “we wanted to.”

It becomes harder, again, to hold the belief of them as devils. That they smelled the sin on you and picked you that way.

“Don't you think it's cruel?”

“No,” finally, he turns to you.

“It was,” you assert recklessly. Fear twists in your gut, poisonous.

“You were scared.”

“Yes.”

“Are you still scared?”

“I feel like you can see right through me. That scares me.”

“Not at first.”

“Then when?”

His hand finds the dip of your waist. Squeezes.

“On the boat, when you pushed up against me like a wet kitten. Even scared, you needed it.”

“You were cruel to me then, too.”

“I’m a cruel man.”

There's a stray thought that wiggles to life in the back of your head that suggests sympathy for him despite his statement. That you can begin seeing the path of his life and understand how he came to be.

You think of punishment again; about parents and children, husband's and wives, about Simon and his father. That wasn't punishment, if you're understanding it the way Kari implied.

A memory strikes you, unbidden and unwelcome. 

Salt blows in the air,  metallic and thick in your nose. Not sea salt, not the wind you love so much, but from blood spraying. 

The man brought his son to the convent, citing his bad behaviour as ungodly. Sister Margret was pleading with him, hands clasped in desperate prayer and voice high, reedy, as she begged him to just stop hitting him – please, just stop hitting him!

The boy cowered. Not a child, but a boy nonetheless. Young enough to make an impression, round-cheeked, on the cusp of manhood. Stained with blood.

He lifted the rope, again and again and again, even as Margret leapt for his arm and tried to stop him, pulling, shouting.

You were stock still, frozen, not even a tremble in your body. Your eyes had widened when he first struck the boy and you’d been stuck since.

Simon takes your hand, peels it away from your dress, pulling you bodily towards him and out of the memory.

With your cheek pressed close to his bare shoulder, you murmur, “did you take me to hurt me?”

“No,” he says, sounding for once like he isn’t hiding anything.

“Did you hit me to really hurt me?”

“No,” he repeats, then, “I hit you because you needed it, because you liked it.”

“I’ve seen…” you don’t continue.

“I know.”

“We’ve both been hurt,” your voice is a whisper.

“Mm,” Simon confirms.

You think of the boy. Of his father. Of his terrified, deer-like eyes, blood splattered on his back and on the ground and soaked into the rope – about how four townsmen had to pull his father away for fear of killing the boy.

How you felt when you hit yourself, when the abbess hit you, how different they were to when Simon took his palm to your ass.

Shame. That had been in the boy's eyes that day. He had hid his face in his arms, cowering not only from fear but from being seen.

You’d felt that same shame each time you’d been punished, intensifying, twisting together until you’d learned to turn the same pain inwards.

 “Are you afraid of being seen?” you murmur to Simon.

“No.”

You don’t have to say the silent part; that you’re the afraid one. That Simon correctly interpreting your need for a different kind of control, one that let you lose yourself, felt like you’d been flayed for all to see.

Simon moves his hand lower, cupping the soft curve of your behind, staring at you, testing the waters. You know that if you said no, he might anyways, but you stay quiet as his fingers lift the hem of your dress.

The fabric slides over your skin, a whisper in the air, tickling you. He rubs his rough, hairy knuckles against your thigh close to where it meets your leg.

He pauses there, breathing slowly, before he slides a finger up your slit and through the thatch of hair above it.

“If I made a request,” you murmured, “would you grant it?”

“Make it, and I’ll tell you.”

He slips a finger to rub your hole, just outside, teasing, while his thumb finds your clit.

“I don’t want you to take me until we’re man and wife… men and wife.”

Simon hums, rubs gently, makes your hips undulate.

“Do you think you’re in a place to be making requests like that, love?”

“I haven’t asked for anything else.”

He raises a brow, sliding his finger inside you to the knuckle when you’re wet enough.

“Haven’t you?”

Your breathing deepens, hands coming down to hold his thick wrist, pulling almost subconsciously. Even now, you can’t totally let go, leaning away from him and the pleasure.

But he understands, leaning over you, using his other hand to pin you to the mattress by your throat. It’s not the nicest hold, but the burning of your lungs heightens the pulsing in your cunt.

“Think you just made a few requests right now,” he grunts, using your leg to rub his hard, clothed cock.

There’s a stirring beside you. Johnny groans as he wakes up, then laughs sleepily.

“Ah woke up just in time,” his voice is rough with sleep.

Simon hums, mmm, in that deep rumble of his. He slips another finger inside you, crooking them, making you gasp raggedly. Your hands still clutch his wrist, weaker now, but it’s half resistance half comfort.

“Mm, good girl,” Johnny murmurs. He curls into your side, cock growing against your hip, wrapping a leg around you while his hand climbs beneath your pulled up dress and palms your tit.

God, you could die just like this: fighting for breath, touched all over, held down and made free. The hate you had for them feels irrelevant, the fear, the brutal way in which they stole you.

You can’t even think about if Simon will disregard your request – your last frontier against them, the treasure between your legs for a husband only.

Simon’s knuckle deep in it, but still, you can’t let go of that final tether. Not yet, not without any other internal pillars to hold you up.

Everything else has been wiped away. Drawings in the sand on a beach swept by foamy white waves.

Johnny leans in and bites your shoulder, gnawing, hips moving against you. You can’t arch like you want to, but you try.

Wet, sinful sounds grow as you gush around Simon’s fingers, as they use you to get off.

When you peak, white spots dance in your vision, mouth open in a silent scream choked away by Simon's heavy palm.

It’s like flying.

In the afternoon, when you’ve all slept, Simon leaves to speak with John and you prepare lunch with Johnny.

More fish, more potatoes. It’s growing on you.

When Simon returns, he has in his arms a rolled up fur. Though unprocessed and still wet underneath, it’s beautiful, pale, spotted.

He takes a heavy seat in front of you, laying the skin over his knees, taking your hand in his and bringing it to the fur.

Soft. Dense. Your fingers move through the pelt.

“For you,” Simon says.

You look up at him, heart dancing.

His gifts. The apple, the orgasms, this– you don’t know what to make of it. Yes, it’s a kindness, but he’s a cruel man. He’d said so himself, and you’d felt the brunt of it.

Leaning into that cruelty has given you a strange power, a strange solidity. You’d so begun to familiarize yourself with his harshness that you’d forgotten this complexity.

You pinch the fur, feeling it between your fingers, breathing slowly. Your neck ached, but it wasn’t a bad ache; it felt like a phantom hand.

“For me?”

Johnny slides three bowls on the table, grinning.

“Yer first wedding gift,” he says jovially.

 “Oh, I see,” you murmur, but it isn’t a disappointed oh.

Simon leaves later again, full of soup, to process the rest of the hunt’s boon with John. He takes the pelt with him, a snowcat pelt you’ve learned.

Yet, he’d returned with not much more than scratches on him from travel. Tired, yes, but a few hours of sleep and splattering his spend on your belly had fixed that earlier.

You’d bathed, since, though the feeling was hard to shake.

Johnny putters about again, returning to his carving of the little mini you. A peek into the past, one you no longer embodied.

“Can I see when you’re done?” you ask, slipping your favourite wool dress on. The red, well worn one. Soft, comforting. 

“Course,” he mumbles, concentrating. Then, his head shoots up.

“Ye want one o’ Simon ‘n’ I, lamb? Carry us around?” Only it sounds like aroond.

You nod, walking on socked feet to where he’s carving.

“Yes.”

[innerfare]

A Lucky Injury - Law

Summary: Your Captain, whom you've been crushing on since you joined the Heart Pirates, was injured in a fight, and his wound is in a place he just can't reach, forcing him to ask you for help bandaging it. Features pining (reader is down bad).

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Gn!Reader

Genre: Angst, Eventual Fluff

CW: SFW // Slight Mention of Blood and Injury (no real gory details though)

Word Count: 643

———

It was a lucky injury. You were a bad person for thinking it, a horrible person for gleaning any amount of pleasure from your Captain’s pain, but it was a lucky injury. Somewhere between mild and moderate on the scale, closer to moderate though Law claimed it was mild, the gash on his shoulder blade was just out of reach. For him, at least. The gash was well within your reach. It was also serious enough to warrant medical attention, but not so serious that you had to worry about his future health. 

It was a lucky injury. 

“Take off your shirt,” you ordered him, doing your utmost to act normal as he sighed and went to pull his hoodie off. To your sick pleasure, he flinched a little when he did, allowing you to step in and pull it the rest of the way off. You caught the lingering scent of his soap and that special laundry detergent he used for his sensitive skin mixed with his sweat, and you had to stop yourself from pulling the garment to your face and inhaling like some sort of lunatic. 

“Y/n-ah, I can do it myself.” His voice sounded lower than usual, similar to when he was tired or battling a cold he insisted he didn’t have. It was gravelly, like it might give out at any moment. 

“Just like you could fight those guys yourself?” You set the hoodie beside him on the exam table and assessed his wound, drying some of the blood from his tanned skin. You took extra care not to look at his bare chest, knowing full well those heart tattoos and lithe muscles would make it too difficult to concentrate on your work. 

“I did fight them myself,” he said. “And I beat them myself, too, so don’t-” He hissed as you dabbed his wound with antiseptic. 

“Yeah, you’re a real tough guy.” 

“I’m a Warlord,” he reminded you. 

“And the most terrifying one, to boot.” You continued cleaning his wound, a little bit too aware of the way his jaw clenched as you worked. Oh, and the sinewy line of his shoulder. You knew your captain was a nerd, but he certainly didn’t have the body of a guy who spent much of his time hunched over a desk. 

It was a lucky injury. 

“Why are you taking so long?” He asked. “It’s clean by now, just bandage me up.” 

“Doctors make the worst patients,” you tutted, giving his wound one more pass with the antiseptic. It was for his own good, not because you wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to touch him. 

“If you’re dragging this out to punish me for going in by myself-” 

“I would never prolong your suffering,” you interrupted, reaching for a bandage. “That would be unethical.” 

“Yeah,” he muttered, “a pirate would never do something unethical.” 

“Is the Warlord going to lecture me now on ethics?” 

“Maybe.” He cleared his throat, and you realized there was a slight pink flush to his cheeks, though you had no idea why. You could only imagine he was embarrassed to be caught in a position where he needed help. 

You considered messing up the bandage so you had to redo it, now not even so enamored by his naked upper half as you were enjoying the way he squirmed, for once not in a position of power, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Of course, you regretted it as soon as he grabbed his dirty hoodie and tugged it back on. 

“I’ll need to change that in a few hours,” you told him as he stood up. “Come find me after dinner.” 

“Thanks,” was all he said before slipping out, leaving you with the fresh memory of his shirtless form and warm skin. 

It was a lucky injury. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[imyourbratzdoll]

I crave a good fluffy fic with wolverine, his wife is a badass and when someone threatens him she loses her shit and kicks their ass🫡 with so much disrespect.

hey baby, I'm so sorry for taking so long! I hope you enjoy what I did, it's a bit more violent than you probably wanted.

summary - a dumb 'bad guy' lures you and your husband out, things take an escalated turn when he threatens your husband.

warning - SUPER violent, like extreme level probably, swearing, mentions of sex, dude talks of touching what's his but nothing triggering, dick and balls suffer rip.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

You couldn’t believe this guy, he was really threatening your husband right in front of you. Thinking he was all tough because he could throw fire or some shit? You didn’t know what he could do, except talk a lot of shit. That was probably his power. What was his name again? Captain Talks Shit? Shits A lot? Little Fucker? Who cares, all you care about right now is that he’s threatening your man. 

You walk out of the shadows, having heard enough because honestly. Why do the bad guys always talk for so long? Have none of them realised or picked up from past bad guys mistakes? It was tiring and a waste of your time because you and Logan could’ve been gone by now, screwing each other silly, probably somewhere extremely risky. But, noooo. You had to listen to this jackass.

“Listen, dick licker. If you don’t stop threatening my fucking husband. I’m going to rip your arm off and beat you with it.” You growl, moving to stand in front of Logan. (Sure, he would have protected himself and it may look weak to the other guy that a woman is standing in front of an extremely large man, in more ways than one, wink wink. But you happen to know that this turns your husband on and who are you to deny him his fantasies?)

“Is that a threat?” Captain Dipshit sneers.

“Did it sound like a fucking compliment, Princess?” You watch as he eyes you, sizing you up and in his mind he’s probably thinking ‘yeah, I can take this chick.’ You hope his ego deflates before you kill him.

“Listen, Babe. This is between us men, now why don’t you run along and go make us a sandwich or something. Maybe put on some cute lingerie and wait for me in the bedroom ‘cause once I’m done with your husband here. You’ll be creamin’ around me.”

Logan shakes his head, stepping way back. He remembered when he accidentally said something similar and he was in a coma for a whole month, not even his fast healing could help him. 

It was like a switch turning on, the beast that lived within you had been released from its cage and not even God could save this man now. You stalked towards him, he still smirked thinking he was safe. You jump, wrapping your legs around his neck and twisting, bringing him down using a move your good friend Natasha had taught you. You move swiftly while he is down, sending a harsh kick to his face, hearing the satisfying crack of his nose and possibly jaw breaking. You grab him by his hair and lift him, a large grin covering your face as you bring him eye level with you. 

“You wanna repeat that, Princess?” You bring him closer, whispering in his ear. “How bout you go make me a sandwich, put on a cute set and I’ll bash your dick in with a baseball bat. How do ya like the sound of that? Cause I love it.” 

He struggles within your grip, trying to swing at you but with your other hand that isn’t gripping his hair. You snap his arms, relishing in the sound of bones breaking. His screams echo the warehouse, dumbarse had lured us in here without a backup plan or backup. 

You let go of your grip on his hair, immediately switching to gripping his throat instead. “You don’t like my plan, Princess? Rethinking the whole thing? Cause ya already pissed me off by threatening the man I love, but then you had the balls to say THAT? Tell me, Princess. Just between us girls. Did mummy not give you any hugs as a kid? Cause how did you think this was gonna go? You could’ve ‘killed’ the Wolverine, but he wouldn’t have stayed dead. No. But if he heard you touching me, touching what’s HIS. He would’ve torn you to shreds, but slowly. Very slowly. It’s what makes me love him.” You pat the man’s cheek, grinning as he winces. 

“How bout an apology and I won’t kill you.”

“F–fuck you.” He spits at you, SPITS. Not even clear fucking spit, this shit has blood in it. You lift your hand, wiping the spit with the back of it and then onto his clothes. 

Your face screwed up. “Well, that was stupid.” With quick movements, you throw him, watching him crash into a wall so hard that it leaves a dent. Your hand reaches out and a bat flies into it. “You’re not wearing that cute set and I don’t have a sandwich, but this will do.” He tries to shuffle away, his eyes wide. You stalk toward him and swing, smashing his dick and balls with one hit. Think Superman merged with Hulk strength, how do you think his twig and berries did?

A scream rips out of his mouth before his eyes roll back and he falls backwards. You frown and poke him with your bat. “Hey mista, you dead?” You look at Logan, “Bitch passed out.” He shakes his head at the pout on your lips. 

He walks over and places a kiss on your head, “C’mon, let’s go home now or better yet. You ready to do something real risky, Sweets.” Your eyes light up.

“Do you mean…?!”

Logan nods, smirking. “I’ll finally let you fuck me while I drive.” Your squeals escape as you jump into his arms, smothering his face with kisses.

“OH THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! You’re the best husband a woman could ask for!” And with that, Logan carries you out as you stare at him dreamily.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[zayneslady]

hey!! loved that angst fic you wrote xx can i request the boys reaction to when the reader/mc and them are in an argument, and they accidentally said something extremely hurtful and it made reader cry. make the boys regret it so much pls hehe😼 thank you 💗

warnings: angst, open ending again hehe and again, reader is not MC

characters: Zayn, Xavier, Rafayel x reader (separately)

a/n: my first request *-* thank you so much! This exact trope is one of my favorites. I hope you enjoy it! Get your tissues ready! Also thank you to everyone's support in my first post! I'm so happy! ❤️

Classification: scenarios

ZAYNE ❄️

You didn't want to admit it, but you were sick. During the day you felt a little sore in your throat and your nose was stuffy. Arriving at Zayne's house after work, it was more than obvious that you had a fever. Your face was red and the chills running through your body made you shiver. 

There was nothing else to do, you would miss work tomorrow to fully recover. Furthermore, with the care of your loving doctor, you knew you'd be fine in no time. So you quickly took a shower and after drying your hair, you grabbed a blanket and curled up on the couch with a cold patch on your forehead, waiting for Zayne patiently. 

To your surprise, he arrived at a normal time and your heart vibrated with joy when you saw him enter. He had his head low as he stepped out of his shoes and closed the door behind him. 

"Zayne! Welcome back! How was your day?” You greeted him as he shrugged his coat off. “Guess what," you said, giggling softly because it was quite obvious by your funny voice that you were sick. "I got a little sick after yesterday's ra- 

You jumped a little when Zayne suddenly groaned, whipping his head up to look at you. “Oh my Lord,” he said, annoyed. “Can't you see I'm fucking tired? You do not know when you shut your damned mouth? I can't stand you! Why are you so clingy?” 

Your eyes widened and your face turned bright red. Your mind went blank and you didn't notice the tears streaming down your face until Zayne's face changed from complete anger to guilt. He looked at you from the door as if he didn't know what had happened just now. He didn't recognize himself. How did he dare to talk to you like that when you-

He gasped softly, “you're sick.”

You tried to clean your tears with your hands as you got up from the couch. Zayne made an attempt to come close to you, but you quickly ran to the bedroom only to come back after a couple of minutes with your shoes and coat on. 

“Excuse me,” you said, as you approached the door. 

“What? Where are you going like this? You need to rest.”

You nodded, trying to keep some distance from him. “I know. I'll rest back home. So please move.”

“Stay here. I'll take care of you,” he grabbed your hand and more tears fell down. How could he talk so sweetly right now after what he said. 

You shook your head, pulling your hand away and pushing him aside so you could open the door. “I don't need you, Zayne. Not when you can't stand me.”

“I was wrong, please.”

“I was wrong too. Goodbye, Zayne.”

XAVIER ⭐

“My poor Xavier,” you mumbled, gently cleaning a wound in Xavier's side. You winced when he did and your heart broke. You knew perfectly well that this could happen because of his line of work, but you felt terrible every time he came home hurt. “Oh, Xav, is it too painful?” You asked as you started to bandage him. 

He shook his head, breathing heavily and resting his head against the pillow on his bed. “It could be worse. Thank you for helping out.” 

“No need to thank me,” you said, smiling at him as you placed a tender and loving hand over his now bandaged wound. “I wish you didn't have to do this. It's so dangerous.” 

Your words had no poison. You clearly didn't want Xavier to suffer in any way. Why couldn't he have a regular, safe job? Maybe he's just strong because he has to protect everyone. You said those words from the bottom of your warm heart, so you were more than surprised to hear Xavier's response:

“What? Are you saying I'm weak?” He spat and you blinked. 

“N-No! I'm just saying that I wish you had another job because- 

“Is that so? So you rather have a bunch of wanderers attacking innocent people? Just because you don't want me to get hurt?” 

“It's- It's not like that! I never said that. I just get worried sick for you and-

“Maybe I should really stop, huh? Just turn a blind eye to everything that's happening like egoist people like you di.”

He just kept vomiting out words, one harsher than the last. Every time you tried to speak and fix this misunderstanding, his irrational words drowned out your voice and it made something heavy and nauseating settle in your stomach. This was not going to end well in any way. 

“Xavier, my love, please listen to me. I do not- 

“Maybe one day a wanderer will actually kill you. And believe me, I won't even bat an eye at you,” he said, crossing his arms and turning his head away from you. 

Your eyes had never filled with tears as quickly as that moment. Your body began to shake with suppressed sobs as you felt heat and disappointment throughout your body. Did Xavier just... wish for your death? And in the hands of a creature as horrible as a wanderer? 

“Oh no,” he suddenly said and you flinched when you felt his touch against your cheek. “I am so, so sorry.” You cried a little harder before getting up from his bed. “W-Wait, my star. Please, I'm sorry.”

No words came out. You simply grabbed your bag and left the room.

He called your name and then groaned in pain as he tried to move. “Pl-please, come back! Where-

You couldn't hear more of his words as you closed the door of his apartment. Did this mean the end? You truly thought so. 

Rafayel 🐠

"Ah, welcome back, Rafayel!" The amount of excitement that rushed through your body whenever your eyes landed on him was almost overwhelming. It wasn't that you hadn't seen him in a long time, but a second without him felt like a century. 

His eyes, usually warm and sparkling, looked cold and even angry at seeing you in his house. "Hello," he said dryly as he closed the door behind him. You frowned slightly. "What are you doing here?" 

"Hmm, nothing much. I just wanted to visit you. Is that alright?" 

He sighed, placing a paper bag on the table. "Yeah, sure. I gave you a key after all."

You cleared your throat, nodding awkwardly. "Did... you have a good day?" 

He sighed again and shook his head as he stepped out of his shoes. "I didn't. It was terrible for the very first moment I opened my eyes. You see," he started and you nodded, listening carefully. "I overslept so I lost precious time for my painting. Then I didn't have time to eat so I didn't eat anything but a piece of bread."

You immediately got up to make dinner for him, maybe after eating he'd feel better? 

"And the worst thing was," he said, collapsing onto his couch. "I couldn't find my emerald green paint so I had to go all the way to the art store and get a new one! Ugh!" 

You blinked, frowning a little. "Your emerald green?" 

"That's what I said."

"Hmm, I'm very sure I put it in all of your greens?" You left the ingredients aside as you walked to the paints. "Here it is." 

He got up and looked at you with an astonished expression. Confusion quickly turned into anger and he was yelling at you in a second. "Why didn't you tell me?!"

"You saw me last night!" You explained, carefully leaving the paint back in place. "You said you wanted your paints to be more organized and I asked you if I could help you out! You even told me you liked how I organized it by colors!" 

Rafayel let out a frustrated sigh as a hand carded through his hair. "I can't believe I just lost all of that precious time because of your stupid mistake!"

"Excuse me?"

"Every time you try to help, you just mess things up! Can't you keep your little hands to yourself for once? I was just stupid for letting you help me out! You are way too much, I can't stand you sometimes.”

You were stunned. He had never said anything like that about you, you couldn't even remember other times when you wanted to help him and you ruined it. Besides, it wasn't your fault. The green paint was there all along and he just hadn't taken the time to look for it properly.

You knew it wasn't your fault, but his harsh words and the anger and hatred in his eyes were too much. Tears quickly filled your eyes and began to fall down your reddened cheeks. 

Rafayel realized his mistake a bit too late. Letting out a gasp as he watched the first tear fall, he hurriedly approached you, but you backed away, putting space between the two of you. He couldn't say anything, too surprised by his own words.

What was just a moment seemed like minutes, endless hours with deafening silence. Only your sobs echoed around the entire house, until your voice, small and trembling, made him jump. 

“I won't touch your stuff again, Rafayel,” you said softly, avoiding his eyes. 

“N-No, I didn't mean-

You nod, “if you don't mind, I'll sleep in your guest room. Goodnight, Rafayel.”

Deep inside you so desperately wanted him to stop you, but he watched you disappear into the hall and never called you back.

You knew it was going to be a very cold night.

[luveline]

i'm missing coworker!james so much... is he doing okay?

James is poorly :( fem

James is a cruel kind of ill. Desperate to escape the dreaded ‘man flu’, he tries hard to portray the common cold. Doesn’t whine, groan or moan, simply suffers the near constant sneezing and his twinging neck without comment. 

Luckily, he has two —two! because you like him enough to be concerned! barely!— nice deskmates who ply him with tea and worry alike. 

“Did you take that antihistamine?” Remus asks. 

“I did, yeah. You watched me take it an hour ago and try as I might, I haven’t regurgitated it yet.” 

“Don’t be disgusting, he’s just worried,” you say. 

A month ago, you might’ve said it with deep, genuine ire. James annoys you and his choice of imagery is hardly workplace appropriate, but for some reason you’re good to him lately. You’re softening, and why shouldn’t you be? James is a boy worth softening for. 

He sneezes hard into a tissue in his palm and knocks the desk, sending his small crowd of figurines skittering, their light green bodies scuffed with scratches. They fall over each day. You like rearranging them. 

You also like feeding James biscuits, and pretending you don’t like him. Or maybe pretending you do. It’s hard to tell what’s real. 

“Jesus,” he says, forgetting to be demure as he drops his forehead against his closed fist. “I can’t take it much longer.” 

“You need to calm down, is all. Every time you sneeze you trigger the inflammation in your nose, which makes you more likely to sneeze again,” Remus says. He doesn’t sound particularly pitying, but he does then stand to grab James’ mug as he heads to the kitchen. 

In an office made up of mostly Brits, it’s extremely common for everyone to make one another a tea or coffee when they get one for themselves, but it’s a sweet gesture for Remus to keep James topped up nonetheless. It also provides for moments like this: you and him alone. Not awkward anymore. 

“Do you have painkillers?” he asks.

You open the drawer of your desk and offer him your pouch. “Here.” 

Inside are many things. A box of lil-lets, plasters in sterile wrappings, throat soothers, ibuprofen, a treasure trove of cures for little ailments. 

“Just, help yourself to anything you want.” 

“You’re an angel.” James unveils a shiny purple chocolate bar. “I can have Freddie?”

“Freddo,” you correct. “Come on, James, it’s on the packet.” 

He doesn’t truly want it. He doubts he could taste it, and he drops it back in. 

“Oh, no, you can have it!” you say, softer. “I’m just being pedantic.” 

“Thanks, but I don’t think I can do chocolate right now.” 

“Right, um… well, I have a sandwich?” 

“What kind of sandwich?” he asks. 

“One of those impossible BLT’s. But I can get you a proper sandwich, James. They have those sesame seed rolls in the vending machine.” 

James doesn’t understand why you’re being so nice to him. “I must look awful,” he murmurs, letting his aching, pulsing head drop onto the desk. He sniffs uselessly. Fuck, he hates work. Why can’t he go home?

“You never look awful,” you say. 

James turns his face to see you’ve lowered your own, resting your cheek in your hand, your knuckles grazing the table. 

“You’re being too nice to me. I’m dying.” 

“You’re the one who’s mean to me, James. I’m your unwilling victim.”

“As opposed to being my willing victim.” James hates being ill, his lips are dry and his throat feels sharp and he’s changed his mind, he does want the Freddo. “Please be nice to me again.” 

“You know what’s good for this? Nasal spray. That’ll fix you.” 

“You could fix me,” James says. You don’t answer. He presses his nose to the table. “My days are always good ones when you can't be bothered to pretend you don’t like me.” 

“Who says I’m pretending?” 

James whines. “That’s worse.” 

You tease a bit of his hair behind his ear. James is content to let you, content to never move again, balmed by the softness of your touch as you draw along the outline of his ear to his jaw. “Don’t press your glasses into your nose, you’ll start sneezing again,” you whisper. 

James refuses to move. “Stroke my hair,” he demands.

“No way.”

“You’re no fun.”

“But I’m having a much better day than you are.” 

He sulks. This is exactly why James hides your stuff and leaves you off of email chains you should probably be in. You’re horrible, awful, evil, with no sympathy for him and no friendliness, either. James was far better off when he was solely annoyed at you, and not whatever useless state of being this is where his mood depends on your willingness to make friends. If James could, he would—

“Are you okay?” you say, your voice as soft as your fingertip where it traces slowly through his curly hair. “Maybe you should go home and rest. I’m worried about you…” 

James might fall in love with you if you keep whispering sweet stuff like that. You hesitate at the nape of his neck before dragging your hand up through a tuft of curls. 

“If you don’t get better soon, your voice will go and I’ll have to talk to Lang and Co. on the phone again. You know I hate their finance team leader,” you finish. 

You sound so pretty that James almost misses your slight. Then decides he’ll allow it as long as you keep stroking his hair.  —

coworker james au

[halfmoonshines]

Just Damon being soft and protective with his gf please! :) love ur work

love this and love you!

only you

damon salvatore x f!reader

summary: Damon only ever had that smile for you.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

You groaned as you trekked behind the group, fully convinced that this could not get any worse. Not only was the southern heat creating a shine of sweat on your skin, but the constant bickering from the rest of your cohort was driving you crazy.

"If you're annoyed Elena, imagine how the vampires feel. We could've just zipped through the woods without you guys." Caroline made an excellent point.

"So why did we even come?" Your question was exasperated and Damon's light laugh came from behind you, one of his hands coming to rest on your lower back.

"The more eyes there are, the more likely we are to find this tomb." Stefan replied.

"I would argue that you guys could've covered five times as much ground by this point if we weren't slowing you down." You paused your walk for a moment, head thrown back to try and gulp in some of the balmy air.

That air promptly left your lungs, however, when Damon swept you into his arms. You couldn't help but shriek a bit, hastily wrapping your arms around his neck. "Damon. I'm sticky and stinky."

He raised an eyebrow at you, lips arranging themselves in a mirthful smile. "My favorite version of you."

Caroline shook her head violently. "Ew, guys."

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

The darkness in the room was almost suffocating you but you didn't have the strength to not suffer inside of it. You didn't know how long you had been sitting there, or when it had gotten so bad, but somewhere along the way you had stopped caring.

You had days like this sometimes, where your mental health was virtually nonexistent and you would rather sit alone in the dark with your thoughts rather than flick the light on and reveal the very real things behind those thoughts.

You vaguely heard the door open downstairs, and Damon's voice was like a lance through the fog in your mind. "Babe? Are you upstairs?"

You stayed silent though, brow furrowing while you tried to overcome the block in your brain that was stopping you from speaking. All that came was a frustrated sigh.

That was enough for the vampire, who quickly appeared in your room, seeming unperturbed by the thick blanket of darkness and despair. He came to sit next to you on the edge of the bed, hand finding yours to interlace your fingers.

"Bad brain day?" His tone was gentle, not a hint of judgement tinged into it. You appreciated that.

You gave a nod, slumping into the safety of his arms. He was always so sturdy, a rock against whatever storm you encountered.

He hummed low in his throat and pulled you both back onto the bed, turning on the fairy lights hanging around the room and tucking you under his chin.

That was where you laid for hours before he convinced you to have dinner, more than happy to let you feel whatever you needed.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

"Are we sure that she is not going to lose her mind when she finds us doing this?" Damon sounded incredibly unsure, paintbrush dangling from his fingers.

You discarded your own, placing hands on hips before you replied. "It's washable paint and it's Caroline's 18th birthday!! Decorating her car is a great idea, trust me."

He raised an eyebrow at you and approached, coming chest to chest and threatening to get the paint dripping from his brush onto you. "Painting the most OCD Barbie I know's car as a surprise? Seems risky."

Your smile was devilish in return. "Since when does a little risk scare you, Salvatore?" You had barely finished your sentence before a gasp escaped, a line of paint now going down your cheek.

"Literally never." He lunged away as you grabbed for him, and you ended up painting yourselves much more than you touched the car.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

[dixons-sunshine]

No-Nonsense | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

A/N: I am so sorry this sucks. I’m moving in a few days, Saturday to be exact, and I’ve been packing non-stop today. When I finally sat down, my brain was fried and I couldn’t really think of words lol. This was the best I could do. I hope it’s still somewhat okay!

The sound of a disbelieving scoff being let out had Daryl tensing up. His cerulean-coloured eyes trailed over to where you leaned back against the wall, his hard, steel-like gaze resting on your face. “Ya got somethin’ ya wanna say, Sunshine?”

“Yeah, I do.” Your own angered stare rested solely upon the crossbow-wielding archer, T-Dog, Rick and the kid, Miguel or something, not even being on your mind at that moment. “I want a gun.”

Daryl rolled his eyes at your statement. He didn’t even know why Rick had bothered asking you along. If shit hit the fan, you wouldn’t be able to protect yourself, and the archer didn’t feel like dying for some woman he didn’t even care for. Sure, you were a resident at Atlanta General before the world ended and had come along to check if Merle had potentially suffered from heatstroke, but other than that, you were useless. At least, to Daryl’s knowledge.

“Yeah, well ya ain’t gettin’ one. I ain’t ‘bout to have my head blown off ‘cause’a yer shit aim,” Daryl told you defiantly. Truth be told, he did not even know whether or not you could use a gun, but if your hesitance towards even looking at Dale’s shotgun back at the camp was anything to go by, it was best not to trust you with a weapon that could potentially lead to his demise.

Cleverly sensing that the situation would escalate without an intervention, the self-appointed leader stepped forward and between your’s and Daryl’s line of sight. “No need to get at each other’s throats.” Rick sighed, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. The last thing he wanted was for blood to be spilled over something as meaningless as an argument. The main concern was getting Glenn back. Rick turned towards you, an understanding glint in his eyes. “Shane told me you didn’t know how to handle a gun. I’m guessin’ he’s got it wrong.”

“Shane doesn’t know shit,” you spat bitterly, pushing yourself off the wall. “I know how to use a gun. I just don’t like it.”

“Yeah, well s’the way’a life now, Sweetheart. Better get to likin’ it real quick,” Daryl interjected before Rick could respond. He picked up his crossbow and slung it across his shoulder. “‘Sides, how do we know ya ain’t jus’ lyin’ to us?”

“You don’t,” you began, your jaw clenching as you tried to suppress your anger. “I could be lying to you, or I could be telling the truth. Either way, I’m not walking into that place with nothing but my good looks. So we can continue to argue about this all day, or you can stop being an asshole, shut up, trust me, and give me a goddamn gun, or else you can tend to your brother’s wounds on your own if we find him. Your choice.”

If there was one thing Daryl had to give you points for, it was your no-nonsense attitude. Most of the women at the camp seemed to fear him, but you didn’t. Time and time again, you stood up to both Shane and Merle. You refused to be belittled, and he respected you for that. You could stand your ground, regardless of the person you faced.

Swallowing his pride, because he sensed that he could potentially have been in the wrong, Daryl reached forward and grabbed a handgun from the table. He offered it to you, and when you wrapped your hand around the handle, his hand lingered on the weapon for a few moments. “Jus’ so ya know, I ain’t gon’ carry ya when ya shoot yerself in the foot.”

Against your better judgement, you sent him a small smile. “And I’m not gonna carry you when that guy shoots you in the ass for shooting him in his.”

Daryl let out a small huff of laughter. Under normal circumstances, the archer would have still been pissed. However, for some reason, seeing your smile made his anger fade away and be replaced with another feeling, one that unnerved him beyond belief. However, he pushed that odd, fluttery feeling to the depths of his mind. There were far more pressing matters at hand.

Before he could speak up, Rick’s voice flooded the air, making you and Daryl practically jump apart. “Now that that’s settled, let’s get goin’.” For added emphasis, he cocked his gun, motioning towards the kid. “Let’s get Glenn back.”

You spared one last look at the brooding archer. He gave you a small nod, a stark contrast to his previously angered, frustrated state. “After you,” he mumbled, motioning towards the door.

You sent him a playful smirk as you walked past him. “Why, thank you. That was almost gentlemanly of you.”

“Keep up the smart ass remarks and m’shootin’ an arrow into yer behind.”

[count-on-mi]

Twice Interactive Story Part 20 You are my Fantasy (Sana, Mina, Dahyun)

When you wake up again, you are still hugging Jihyo, she cuddles in your arms. Your hand caresses her back, and it feels a bit different, it's so smooth, you open your eye and you see Dahyun in your arms. 'You like my back so much, oppa?'

"Maybe, when did you get here?" I respond as I caress her back one more time.

Dahyun does not answer you and let you continue to caress her back. Soon she breaks the silence, 'What is this, Oppa? Don't lie to me.' Dahyun is holding the condom you used last night, your cum is dripping out from it.

You only realize Dahyun is fully naked now, and you morning boner starts to get larger by the beautiful sight.

As I look at her, I gaze back into her eyes and pull her closer, "Do you wish it was you I used that on Dahyun?" My hands run down to her hips.

'No, oppa... We can't do that' Dahyun moans lightly while enjoying your caress, although she is rejecting you verbally, but she does not move.

'You use it with Jihyo eooni, when did you two hooked up? Does Nayeon eooni knows?'

"We hooked up after me and Nayeon broke up, after I took her bags back to. I got drunk and next thing you know we did it." I look at Dahyun's body, and pull her closer, my cock pressing against her thighs. "You say we can't but you're here naked Dahyun. I think you wanted to."

'No... We are siblings, God will punish us.' Dahyun starts to breathe heavier when your cock pokes at her thigh, your hand still going from her back to her ass cheek.

'Oppa...' Dahyun is turned on by your caress. 'Do you love me?'

I pull away from Dahyun, "Of course I love you Dubu. You're my step sister."

'No, oppa, not as siblings, you know what I wanna hear.' Dahyun steps closer despite you move your cock away from her.

'If you can give up Nayeon eooni and Jihyo eooni for me, I...' Dahyun take one more step closer to you, you can feel her breath hitting your chest, you look down at her erected nipples and you don't know how long you can still resist to her tempting.

"You'll what Dahyun?" I whisper back to her.

'I will help you, I see you are suffering from it don't you?' Dahyun grabs your fully erected cock and whispers to your ears.

Your body shivers from the sensation and you moan her name. 'Oh, Dahyun...' Dahyun is closer to you now, you can feel her nipples rubbing your skin, you can't stop to caress her back.

"Dahyun, we can't.  Mina will be here any minute. I push her away gently. Look Dahyun nows not the right time for this."

'You don't want me? You don't love me?' Dahyun starts to stroke you and kissed you. Then she kisses your body, from your lips to your chest, and finally your cock. She kisses your tips and looks at you one more time, 'Do you want me?'

I pull her back up, "Dahyun, I love you. Nothing is going to change that but right now isn't a good time." I pull Dahyun into a hug. "Thank you for loving about me but now isn't the time. Let's talk about this when I get home from work, you and me will go out. Alright? "

Dahyun smiles and ignores you, she goes down to suck your cock. 'Oh... Dahyun!' You moan her name and catches the sheet from the pleasure, you are not expecting she has such a good oral skill despite she is a virgin.

I push her away again, "Dahyun please, listen to me. Now is not the time for this."

You try to push away Dahyun's head, but she continues to suck you, slowly the pleasure is taking over you, Dahyun's hands caress your body and finally play with your nipples, the sensation makes you moan. You don't understand why Dahyun is so experienced and served you so well.

You give up on the pleasure, your hands change from pushing her away to pressing her toward your hips. You are chasing your pleasure now, who fucking cares if Mina sees it, you are addicted to the pleasure of face fucking your sister. You feel you could hear Chaeyoung's moan too.

I start to ram my cock down her throat, "if you want it so bad then have it."

You thrust all in and reach Dahyun's deep throat, but her throat is just like a black hole, she has no difficulty adopting it.

Instead, she maintains her high speed on sucking, her tongue licking your base at the same time, and you feel you are going to cum under this sensation.

"How are you so good Dahyun, you must've practiced with someone. Who?" I ask as I continue to thrust eventually cumming down her throat.

You close your eyes and enjoy the pleasure of your orgasm, but Dahyun does not answer you. You open your eye, but you are shocked. Mina is choking by your waves of cum and struggling to breathe, but she is still sucking your cock. Dahyun is not here.

It is all dream, you were receiving Mina's morning alarm when you are sleeping, you cum at the moment you wake up.

I let Mina breathe "I'm sorry Mina, but thank you for the morning alarm."

'You came so much, boss.' Mina is recovering while she is still jerking you. 'But why are you calling other woman's name when Mina is sucking you' She squeezes you slightly, enough pain to make you moan.

I pull Mina up, "You're right, I'm sorry Mina." I grab her ass, "Mina I can't wait till we get to the office, I want you right now. Let me make it up to you."

'Don't touch Minari.' Mina seems still angry. 'If you are turned on by other girls, then find them to fix it, not me.'

'I can hear her name, Dahyun, right? Isn't she your step-sister? Why don't you go to fuck her then.' Your cock is fully hard again as you triggered by the idea of fucking Dahyun.

'See? You are really thinking about her just now.' Mina feels your cock become bigger when she is jerking you off.

I slide my hand to her panties and rub her pussy. Kissing her neck I tell her, "I don't want her Mina, I want you."

'Don't lie... Boss' Mina starts to moan as your fingers rub her clit. ' Minari can hear you calling her name since I entered the room.' Mina matches her stroking speeds with your fingers. ' Your cock becomes much more larger when I address you as oppa when you are sleeping.'

'Face your lust, sir. First Miss Jihyo, Now your step sister. Are Miss Sana and I cannot satisfy you?'

'Go fuck you little sister.' Mina bites your ear.

I move Mina's panties to the side and push my fingers inside her. I whisper to her "Are you jealous my little Minari? I'm sorry for leaving you out, but I'll let you know I won't be doing anything with my step sister. I'm going to make sure you get all the love and attention you want." I kiss Mina, while squeezing her ass with my free hand.

Mina keeps moaning when you fingering her. 'Only dare to fuck your sister in the dream, boss? Where's the courage when you fuck me in the interview?'

Mina starts to role play as Dahyun to trigger you, 'Faster, Oppa! Dahyun needs this!' You cock starts to pulse when you near 'Dahyun"'s naughty words. 'Cum for Dahyun, Oppa! Dahyun wants your cum!' Seeing you are excited, "Dahyun" keeps flirting you.

I start to finger her faster, "Mina, if you keep that up I'm going to stop"

'Oppa, fuck Dahyun, Dahyun is yours, do what you wanna do to Dahyun.' Mina moves her hips so her clit is rubbing your tip, you are already near the climax, you could cum once you enter her pussy. Mina even raise her heads to lick your nipple.

I back off Mina and get changed, "I'm not playing this game anymore Mina. Let's get to work"

Mina returns to normal when she hears you wanna stop. ' Minari know you like the role play, boss. We can play it anytime again if you want.' Mina dresses up and hugs you from the back.

'But Minari doesn't want to hear boss calling other's woman's name when we are having fun, even your girlfriend.' Mina gets up and kisses your ear.

"Mina, next time I say stop, stop. Let's just get to work." I say as I begin walking to the door.

'Boss, Minari is just helping you to face yourself. We all know what you did in your dream, why just can't you admit it.'

'And Miss Jihyo too, your eyes never leave her big tits, but you just always refuse to admit it.' Mina stands still as you approaching the door.

'Minari doesn't want to share boss with others, you have a girlfriend and other girls like Miss Sana, Minari knows Minari can't own you for myself only, but Minari wants the truth.'

"I don't have a girlfriend Mina," I correct. "We can talk about the rest in the office."

'What? Boss you said you have a girlfriend before... Or you mean you have girlfriends? Is Minari one of them?' Mina is excited and she comes and grabs your arm.

"I broke up with my girlfriend a while ago, it's why I was crying that day. I'm just single right now." I pat Mina's head, "but know that I love you Mina."

'Minari is glad that Boss finally tell Minari what happened, Minari was so worried.' Mina smiles and kisses your cheek. 'Minari loves boss too.'

I usher Mina along to the car so we can go to work.

Everything goes as usual, Jihyo will sneak into your room after Dahyun sleeps every night, each time with a new sexy lingerie, you don't know how many she got, but you are definitely enjoying it. she is now willing to stay after the sex, you did not ask the reason and you would just cuddle with her.

Jihyo makes sure she will leaves before Mina arrives in the morning, your day is occupied by Mina, and sometimes Sana too at office, and you will spend the night with Jihyo at home. Dahyun is much quieter after she confessed, she would just get in your arms when Jihyo is not here.

However, you could not forget your sweet dreams about Dahyun, you meet her in your dream more often, and you can't forget the pleasure of fucking your step-sister, every time she lays in your arm you are turned on, thinking about the dream. Sometimes your bulge even poked her, but Dahyun just pretends she know nothing.

I have to try and shake that feeling for now. I just continue to think of Dahyun as the girl I knew her as before.

How hard you try to resist the feeling, how hard you want to get Dahyun. Mina is angry again as you call Dahyun's name again when she is giving you the alarm.

Mina refuses to let you fuck her, and ignores you for the day. You are frustrated, but you don't wanna force Mina to do anything.

'I heard someone makes Mina angry, huh?' Sana sneaks into your room during lunch.

'I will go to your home tomorrow, Sana. Or do you want it now instead?'

'No, boss, I heard you want your sister more.' Sana smirks.

"Yeah that's been a problem. I just can't get her out of my head no matter how hard I try."

'What triggers your lust towards your dear sister?' Sana sits on your lap directly.

'I remember you protected Dahyun very well, especially for the interview last time. Or you just want to keep her for yourself huh?' Sana grabs your jaw and kisses you.

"It was later that night, she confessed her love for me, Sana"

'No boss, I can tell it must be much more than that. You wouldn't want to fuck your sister so desperately after just a confession.' Sana starts grinding on your laps and she smirks after feeling you are getting hard.

'There must be something that happened, right? You feelings to her changed from sister to woman.'

"Maybe, I don't know" I say confused.

'Do you need me to help with recalling the memories?' Sana feels your cock is hard enough, so she kneels and unties your belt, free your cock and start stroking it.

'Did little Dahyun tempts you to fuck her? Or Did you accidentally see her naked body?' Sana says in a seductive tone while stroking you.

"Neither, she just wore a more revealing dress." I respond. "Sana look, I'm probably going to be saying Dahyun's name while you do that. No matter what she just pops into my mind."

'A revealing dress already makes you addicted like that? Incredible. You won't even do that to me even if me naked.' Sana starts licking your shaft, giving you more pleasure.

'I'm fine with that, boss. Helping you to fix the problem before I can use you tomorrow is good, I want you to focus on me tomorrow. Now just use me like Dahyun if you want.'

"I'm not sure that's gonna help Sana." I say as I place my hand on the top of her head.

'Oppa, your cock tastes so good, Dahyun loves your cock so much.' Sana slowly swallows your cock as you push her head towards you.

'Is Dahyun serving you good, Oppa? Sana kiss your tip before swallowing it again, her massaging your ball and looks at you with a puppy eye.

"You're doing great" I moan as I close my eyes.

'Dahyun glads that Oppa is feeling good.' Sana keeps sucking your cock and playing with your balls.

'How much do you want Dahyun, Oppa? Cum for Dahyun, Oppa. Dahyun needs your cum.' Sana even tries to speak in Dahyun's voice.

I don't respond, instead I force Sana to the base of my cock and cum in her mouth.

Sana chokes as you cum right in her throat, but you have no intention to let her go, you grab her hair, not allowing Sand to resist, and close your eye to imagine the feel of cumming inside Dahyun's mouth.

You only pull out when you pass your orgasm, Sana nearly collapses and breaths heavily for the air. Once she recovers, she strokes your dick and opens her mouth to show that she swallowed all of your seed. 'Is Dahyun a good girl? Dahyun finished it all.'

"You're a good girl" I respond while patting her head.

'If Oppa have had fun, can Dahyun have fun too?' Sana stands up and turn her back to you. She arc her ass and let you caress it.

'Dahyun loves oppa, but I need to leave my Virginity for my future husband. Please use Dahyun's ass.' Sana removes her skirt, and you can she is still using the butt plug you award her last time.

"Are you sure you don't want more than that?" I ask while I start to finger Sana with one hand and fondle her breasts with the other.

'No, oppa! We are siblings, if you fuck Dahyun's pussy, that is incest.' Sana moans as you are fingering her, her hands go back try to find your cock.

'Dahyun is free for your use, oppa. Remove that plug and fuck Dahyun's ass.' Sana hide her head to let you imagine Dahyun easier.

I rip the plug from Sana's ass and ram my cock into her ass, bending her over my desk. "Is this what you want?"

'Yes! Dahyun wants oppa to fuck her ass!' Sana grabs the edges of the desk to keep balance, as you are thrusting too hard.

Your cock has lubricated from the previous blowjob, but Sana's ass is very tight, you can feel it wraps your cock so well, you close your eye to imagine your are fucking Dahyun and you can't stop yourself to think about her.

'Yes, Fuck Dahyun, Oppa! Moan My name!' Sana tries to use her free hand to push ass, make you move faster.

I just continue thrusting into Sana, placing on hand on her shoulder and the other on her hip to hold her in place.

'Oh, fuck, I am cumming.' Sana cums as her ass becomes tighter, you maintain your speed and try to play with her tits.

'Oppa, Dahyun is feeling so good. Do you like fucking Dahyun?' Sana tries to tense the muscles and make her ass tighter.

"Fuck, I'm going to cum" I moan as I continue to pound away at Sana's asshole. I drive my cock deep into Sana's ass one more time to cum in the deepest part of her.

You two moan together when you cum in Sana's ass, you don't know how many times your cock has pulsed when you reach your orgasm, you just waves of your seed in Sana's ass.

You slowly put out and rest on your chair, while Sana is laying on your desk. 'Put that plug in my ass, ahh... Dahyun needs it.'

I use the butt plug on Sana making sure it's firmly in place.

Sana roll over and caresses her belly. 'Ah, so warm...' Now her cum is stayed in her stomach because of the butt plug.

Sana tries to get up and looks at you, 'So how do you feel when your are fucking your sister, boss?'

I explain to Sana how I felt during sex and start to question myself.

'I feel... I feel so excited. When I close my eye, I can see I am fucking her in that exposed dress, I can hear Dahyun moaning my name. I... I can't wait to fuck her in person. Damn.' You answer while shaking your head. 'I'm not a good brother, I don't know how to explain.'

Sana sits on your lap again and whispers to your ear. 'Did you feel ashamed or guilty when you thought Dahyun?'

Actually, you are not ashamed at all, as you have fucked another sister Chaeyoung, you don't know should you tell Sana too.

"Not really, we're step-siblings and it isn't right for me to feel the way that I do but it doesn't feel wrong at the same time. In a way I do feel some guilt because this is purely a sexual thing."

'But the guilty makes you even turned on, isn't it?' Sana smirks.

'Why don't you go fuck her then? If you really want to do it. I think you really can't get over her now, after you tasted her, right?'

"I don't know Sana, I can't do it with her."

'You sure? Dahyun already confessed to you, what's the problem? Are you sure you are not going to fuck Dahyun in the future? You just gonna think about her when you are fucking others?'

"Fine I'll try to do something. You can go now Sana." I start to think to myself of the trouble I'll have with that."

[revelboo]

Sheeesh, First Starscream, then Soundwave, now Megatron?? Who’s next, Shockwave? ☠️

Nah, I’d only intended Megs, Star, and Soundwave here. Just wasn’t sure if y’all would be okay with reverse harems in your TF fics 😅

Everything Is Alright Pt 86

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

• “Starscream.” Still following him, still trying to dig around in his head. Rounding on Soundwave, Starscream bares his denta. Seeing the communications officer let his hand fall. Knows that if the other mech dares to touch him, he’ll attack. Because all of this is his fault. Even if he regrets what he did, it’s far too late. Soundwave set him on this course and he can’t turn back. To keep you, he can’t hesitate, can’t waver. Glaring at Soundwave, he waits and the other mech just shakes his head. “Don’t do this.”

• “If you actually care about my mate, you won’t get in my way,” Starscream growls, wings flared. And he can feel the anger, fear, and desperation to protect what he has in the Seeker. Knows Starscream is walking a thin line, that he’s at risk of destroying everything he’s trying to keep safe. And that nothing Soundwave says is going to sway him from that goal. A fully bonded mech stressed past his limits is a dangerous thing, because he won’t stop. Can’t. Starscream brushes by him and he lets him go. Can almost feel the danger closing in. That he might be past the point of stopping this and all he can hope for is to save you from the fallout.

• Striding down the hall, Starscream’s hands won’t stop trembling. Determined even as he wants to grab you and run. To try to escape this even knowing he can’t. That he won’t be allowed happiness. Not as long as Megatron lives. He’s tried so many times to overthrow him, always failing. Always suffering for that failure. This time he has to succeed, because it’s not only him at risk. You’re his to protect, you need him. And he needs you.

• “Attempts to synthesize stable energon alternatives have been so far unsuccessful, but-” Lifting his head when Shockwave trails off, Megatron keeps sliding his servo up and down your back, amusing himself with how uncomfortable you are with his touch as you sit on his thigh, little hands in fists. “Lord Megatron, I realize it’s not my place to question you, but why?” Venting in amusement as Shockwave just gestures weakly with his cannon. Not sure if the other mech is more put off by having a human about or that you’re not in a cage somewhere. Or it could be that he’s touching you.

• “A learning opportunity for Starscream, that’s all,” Megatron says, servos curling around you as you inhale sharply. “Keep up your experiments,” he adds, flicking the servos of his other hand dismissively. All day there’s been a stream of visitors reporting in. Asking for him to mediate arguments, most of which seem fairly petty. As soon as this one leaves, he slumps back against his throne, free hand lifting to rub between his optics. And you’re realizing there’s two faces to Megatron. The intimidating warlord and this exhausted, over it version that disappears as soon as he’s not alone. Apparently you’re not worth keeping up the act most of the time, though. Head falling back, optics shuttered, he vents. “Tell me, pet. Do you really believe that traitorous creature can change?”

• “I think he wants to,” you say, soft voice wavering as he slides a servo up to rest against your throat, tapping idly. “If you’d just let him.” Huffing out a laugh, he glances down at your serious, little face. Amused that you seem to actually believe that. Poor little thing. You still don’t understand Starscream’s ambition. That he can’t help himself, clawing for power no matter the consequences. While he’s not sure what the Seeker saw in you that distracted him temporarily from his goal, he knows it’s just that. Temporary. Freezing when you lay your warm hands on his servo, Megatron nearly pulls his hand away.

• Lowering your head when those angry optics narrow, you hold your breath. “If I let him,” he mutters as your shoulders droop. “You’re loyal to him, I’ll give you that. You’d be better served being loyal to me, though.” That servo against your throat tips your chin up, forcing you to meet his optics. “He cares for you, talks to you. You must hear things.” Pushing at his servo, you realize he’s wanting you to spy on Star. Tell him his secrets.

• “Not happening.” That anger in your soft voice is a surprise, unexpected as those eyes narrow at him. So there is some fire to you. He’d assumed you were all soft and compliant, easily cowed. Why does that little flash of temper twist through him? Because you’re resisting him and he’s so used to his followers never outright disagreeing or refusing him? “I’m not betraying him for you. He’s trying to be better and I love him for-” and you stop short, dropping your eyes and going still. Love? That’s how Starscream wrapped you about his servos? Convinced you that he loved you, cared for you? Because it’s so ludicrous he almost pities you, laughing despite himself as you stiffen.

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