#and then oh fucking boy I date my abuser. who I swore up and down was peeeeerfect. but fuck he was so manipulative.

[angeltism]

it is so incredibly hard to convince myself I am not cursed love-wise

#➳ valentin vents #like fun fact did uu know one of my earliest notable crushes was on a girl like. 5 years older than me. iirc #and she was straight too but that's like the least amount of reason that uhh. was nawt gonna work out #and then i date a friend for a day before realizing Wait No Lol I Don't Feel That Way #and then oh fucking boy I date my abuser. who I swore up and down was peeeeerfect. but fuck he was so manipulative. #and then i have a crush on this boy who LIVES IN MY AREA #and we wanna meet up bc he's a friend of an old friend but I'm nawt allowed to and he doesn't want to be in a relationship if we've never #seen eachother irl and can't meet up. #and then well #maybe the least dumpsterfire-y thing yet. but still. didn't work out. and my god did it hurt while i was trying to make it work. #like seriously am i just cursed #aaaaand uhh #4/5 of these were also most likely/definitely were my fps #so #hey #haha #whatever life is fine I'm totally lovable and I am totally going to find someone my age who will treat me right and make me feel loved (lie) #(god i actually really hope it's nawt a lie someone please just care for me please)

[dinozarr]

Hello, Can I así for Saturu Ska8er boi I was listening to Avril and thougth it could be nice hehehe

(only if You want to ofc , thank You for sharing your Beautiful work with us !)

skaterboi!satoru is like so genius ohmygod…

warnings y disclaimers / sfw. fluff. established relationship. puppy love satoru. spanish usage: mi alma..my soul | mira.. look | pero..but | papito.. (erm idk how to explain this one, but it’s just a nickname)

𝐒𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐁𝐎𝐈!𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 . . . is heavily fucking obsessed with you. you’re all he thinks about day ‘n night. he could simply be strolling down the street and if he were to walk by a store and see something he knew you’d like, he would buy it without hesitation. right there, on the spot. it had become quite a bad habit, to the point where you sneakily stole his debit card for a week and he was acting like a drug-addicted fiend begging for it back like his life depended on spoiling you. (it did.)

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀when he wasn’t hovering over your back trying to buy you everything you dared to lay your eyes on, he was mindlessly skating his life away at the park where he first met you. it was a happenstance. quite a coincidence. it had been his first time going to that park simply because his was being cleaned that night. he told himself it’d just be a one-night thing. he would never go back. yet, the minute he laid eyes upon you after you jumped from within the pool, he couldn’t pull them away.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀the radiant smile you bore enticed his entire attention. despite the fact that you had crowds surrounding you whilst you performed your favorite tricks, satoru felt as if you were the only other person there at the park with him. even when he made his way into the horde of people that surrounded the left pool, he couldn’t believe such a beauty like you could associate with a low-status group.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀it took him months of straight up bothering you, poking fun, walking you home, offering to help you do community service; just so you would alas say yes to his date offer. you hadn’t a clue as to why the estranged boy was so hyper focused on you, but your curiosity didn’t stop you from abusing the spotlight. every chance you could, you’d have him do something for you and it humored you to see the puppy-like expression he had marred on his face.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀even while your relationship is still going, he loves running errands for you. if it had to do with you, he was all for it, no matter the circumstances. his friends swore there was no one who loved you more than that boy.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ “toru, c’mere.” you ushered the boy to you, one foot rested along the end of the board with its back on full display for the pool below. your other foot was planted on the apex, no pressure being applied at all.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ “yes, mi alma?” spanish had come easy to the man after picking up a few phrases from you, you thinking it was cute that he paid attention to the small details of your native language.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀broadening a sharp grin at your boyfriend, you watched as he hurriedly rushed to your side with a hint of wariness and curiosity lingering within his bright blue eyes. it was endearing to see him so full of life at just the simple sound of your voice. you brought your bottom lip to the skim of your teeth as a slight chuckle tumbled from your lips, satoru’s eyebrows pursing together at your abrupt actions.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ “you’re cute, y’know that?” if it wasn’t how you teased and prodded at him, it was your words that caused the oh-so familiar red hue to shade the man’s face.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀it wasn’t odd for you to suddenly compliment him, rather it was rare. yet, each time you happened to do it, he was left as nothing but a pure puddle of stammers and wandering eyes.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ “mira, i wanna try this move pero like i need you to hold my hands so i can properly turn” you motioned while realigning your stance on the board.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀the moment you mentioned needing satoru’s help, his ears perked as if he were some sort of trained dog who was being ushered for a treat. he hastily took hold of your hands before observing your every move. one step at a time, he watched whilst you turned your body to face his own, keeping an eye out for any slips or cracks so he’d be able to catch you.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀once you had finished readjusting yourself, you smiled at him prior to quickly pecking his cheek. the move was not only tricky, but also risky since you had to do it backwards for the first half. but, you knew you’d be able to do it. you were the one to teach yourself how to skate anyways.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀the minute you let go of satoru’s hand, your body began to propel backwards. you could feel your heart sinking into your ass from the sudden endurance, yet you calmed your nerves by delving your nails into your palms. the wind that rushed through your clothes wasn’t helping your situation, but did reassure you that even if you fell, the current would cause you to at least fall forward.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀as you were halfway down the ramp, you bent your knees and lowered your body by a slither, leaning to the side a bit just before you jumped into the air. the second your feet lifted from the board, not only did your body do an entire 180° spin, but your board did likewise. you spent a rather long minute in the air, satoru’s jacket that you wore snuggly on your body floating and flailing around from such a harsh pivot.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀all you could think while your body remained mid-air, was how if you messed up the landing; the hospital would be your new home. your board was only a slither ahead of you, but you knew that when landing back on it you could adjust yourself to fit right back where you started. and so you did. it was a rather unpleasant heart attack that you gave yourself, but once your feet planted solidly on the wooden surface, you couldn’t help but smile like a toddler on christmas.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀due to the momentum and speed you started off at, your board was able to swiftly guide you up the opposite side of the pools ramp. the moment you could reach the top, satoru was right there awaiting your arrival. he had the cheesiest and most adorable grin smeared clear on his face, a tight embrace hoisting you from your board whilst your ecstatic laughter filled his ears.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀you could tell he was just as nervous for you as you were, your chest fully engulfed into his to the point where you could feel his heartbeat. your arms wrapped around his neck before he captured your lips with his own, faint giggles and squeals leaving your mouth and getting muffled against his.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ “jesus, you had me worried.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ “i know, papito. i know.” you cooed, the pad of your thumb running smoothly across the flesh of his cheekbone as you caught his eye contact.

ᶻ z Z ! © TAKST4Z — all rights reserved. mature discretion. please do not plagiarize or steal any of my works or graphics.

#⠀❙ 𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐁𝐎𝐗𝐈𝐄𝐒 .† #⠀❙ 𝐙𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐄𝐒 .† #⠀❙ 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐒 .† #⠀❙ 𝐉𝐉𝐊 .† #⠀❙ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 .† #⠀❝ 𝐒𝐅𝐖 .♱ #gojo x you #jjk gojo #gojo fluff #gojo #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo comfort #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen satoru #gojou satoru x you #jjk satoru #jujutsu satoru #satorugojo #jjk x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk

[1kook]

espn & bdsm

this is part 6 of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills.  warnings; smut (18+) in the forms of brief femdom, handcuffs, nipple clamps, blindfolding, flogging/use of a riding crop, soft dom kook, cunnilingus, spitting, unprotected but passionate, degradation, as always it starts horny n then turns into I love u kink miscellaneous; kook has a swollen ankle so idk how he did all this, jk abuses the fuck outta pet names part 7, revenge gone wrong tbh, this was honestly a beginner’s intro to vanilla bdsm word count; 12.7k

notes; this is like… a healing fic… for the part before lol. also i did not know what was going to happen next as I was writing. anyway entire smut scene was based off THIS bad boy ur welcome fellas and the Jungkook described here is from in the soop episode 2... cutie... yes every single 1 of those words is a link

lmk what you think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

You're at the nail salon with Doyeon when she first mentions it.

“Have you ever, like,” she pauses, making a vague, swivel gesture with her head. You furrow your brows and she sighs. “Topped him. Have you ever been the one to take control?”

Your nail artist blushes, furiously filing away at your nails until the most perfect stiletto shape stares you back in the face. “Oh. Not really,” you admit, wiggling your wet toe nails around in the styrofoam flip flops issued by the salon. “I mean, sometimes I talk him through it.”

Doyeon snorts. “Babe, talking him through it and being the boss are two completely different things,” she says rather dryly, seemingly unbothered by the fact your two nail techs are being subjected to this more than intimate conversation. But you’ve had weirder talks with Doyeon in public; this doesn’t phase you. “Listen,” she says suddenly, dropping her voice down to a whisper that has you leaning closer to hear her. “You know how I’m a member of that site, right?”

You nod. “Oh yeah— Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide!, right?” She kicks your shin, but the jab is muted by the bottom of her own styrofoam flip flop.

“Yeah, just tell everyone here my credit card number while you’re at it,” she hisses. Her anger fades soon enough. “Well, they’re always sending me all sorts of freebies for my devoted patronage,” she explains. She quirks her lips to the side, throwing one brief glance at the blushing nail artists in front of you. Eventually she seems to come to a conclusion. “Long story short they sent me some cuffs and I’m gonna give you them.”

Your jaw drops. “Woah, really? I don’t know… Don’t those usually run kinda pricey?” you ask tentatively. You’re trying to play it off, act like this isn’t something you want, but the reality is so much worse.

The minute the word cuffs had slipped through her lips it’s like a door opened before your eyes. A big, wooden door with chains strapped across it and a padlock you swore you’d never open.

Somewhere in your mind, you had always convinced yourself handcuffs in bed was something you’d like to have done to you. But, because she was your best friend and by extension a personified version of all your freakiest, often filtered, thoughts, it was like Doyeon had reached straight into your cranium and extracted your most secret fantasy— and that was Jungkook in handcuffs.

Your nail artist pats your hand, motioning you to head over to the drying station. Before you can be separated from Doyeon, you whip around to throw her one desperate look. “I have never wanted anything so bad in my life.”

She cackles loudly, easily garnering the attention of every employee and nail enthusiast in the salon with the evil witch vibes she exudes.

Truth be told, your argument with Jungkook had brought upon a newfound appreciation for him. Weird to say, considering you had wanted to kill the dude when it had originally happened. But the great thing about you and Jungkook was that you were flexible people— both in bed and out. A few long conversations later and you had reached the root of the problem.

And that root was your apparent lack of communicating when something was wrong. It was weird to think that anything could ever be wrong when Jungkook was involved. He was your honeybun, sugar plum, pumpy-umpy-umpkin. Your sweetie pie, for lack of better wording, and he could do no wrong—

—is what you’d like to say. But if there’s anything you’ve learned in the past year of dating Jungkook, it’s that perfection was a made up belief that revolved around the idea that someone’s flaws couldn’t possibly be a good thing. And as you’ve come to realize, Jungkook wasn’t the perfect gentleman you’d initially chalked him up to be. He was human, just like you, with his own list of worries and thoughts, and sometimes those thoughts manifested into flaws. They could be ugly or they could be beautiful, but at the end of the day, they all made Jungkook into the person he was— and you loved that person. Disgustingly so.

You had your moments, and he had his. Everything would not always be sunshine and rainbows for the two of you, but it was fine so long as you learned to play in the rain and stomp in the puddles.

Still.

You were you.

A slightly mean, slightly conniving, petty ass human who had been plotting his revenge since the day the two of you made up. I mean, you weren’t actually just going to let him get off the hook like that, were you? He had saved himself last time with a gooey, heartfelt apology and confession, followed by some extraordinary dicking down that had left you Naked and Afraid for three days after.

But you weren’t that easy! No, ma’am. You had to let him know that some gorgeous demon dick was not enough to satisfy you after a fight like that.

Jungkook was in for a desperately needed reality check, one that jingles in your purse when you step out of the Uber that drops you off at his place. You know he’s home because his front light is on, and also because he’d texted you that he was watching some soccer match on tv tonight. He’s a pretty big fan, especially of the club playing tonight, so you decide it’s a perfect night to strike.

Your copy of his key slips right into the keyhole. Your slippers are in the same place they always are, neatly set off to the side right by the stairs. He’s not in his living room, undoubtedly the most perfect place to watch any type of sporting event with that huge Jumbotron of his. The damn thing made it feel like you were in the stadium itself.

There’s a quiet hum coming from upstairs. You creep up the steps, carefully rounding the corner at the landing until you’re staring right into his dimly lit bedroom.

The way Jungkook’s got his bedroom set up is so that you can look directly at his door from the bed, terribly inconvenient for when that sleep paralysis demon hits in the middle of the night and you’re left staring into the dark hallway. He’s snuggled comfortably over his sheets, about three pillows supporting his back. The light of the tinier, more acceptable television he keeps in his room is dancing across his features in bright shades of green. You almost throw yourself onto his mattress like a starfish until you spot the carefully placed foot on the bed.

“What the hell did you do?” you blurt. A wrong move, considering he hadn’t seen you yet and your sudden appearance makes him jump nearly ten feet into the air, almost knocking down the bag of ice that sits on his ankle. “Oh my god, it was that damned Pilates class, wasn’t it?” you fret, rounding the bed until you’re on his side.

“Oh hey,” he says as if you’re not currently pulling the first eight seasons of Grey’s Anatomy to the forefront of your head to treat him. “When’d you get here?”

“Cut the crap, who did this to you?” you ask, sitting beside him with the utmost care. You drop your bag off to the side, the loud clatter of the inside contents vaguely registering in your head. The ice pack comes off easily, revealing a relatively okay looking ankle save for the slight swell towards the more medial aspect of it.

Jungkook takes the moment to sit up, joining you in your inspection of his injury. “No one,” he answers, using his new position to drop a kiss against the side of your head. “I fell off the ladder helping Mrs. Jung across the street.”

You choke. “You fell off a ladder?” you squawk, eyes wide as your gaze shifts from his ankle to his entire body.

He places a hand on your shoulder, “babe, I was on like the third step. It was one of those old wooden ones,” he explains with a nonchalant shrug. “The step just happened to snap on my way down.”

You scoff. “That old lady is out to get you,” you warn him. “Remember the time she almost had you plug in those burnt out Christmas lights for her? The ones that would have electrocuted you to death.”

Jungkook laughs, settling back into his stack of pillows. “In her defense, she’s old,” he offers. He’s wrapped up in a black hoodie, fluffy bangs parted down the middle. He’s got on some blue shorts, a huge difference from his usual dark-toned clothing. He looks so good and warm, and you’re suddenly hit with the fact you can’t possibly handcuff this poor, injured angel to his bedpost and ride his cock into the sunset. “You didn’t tell me you were coming over.”

You deflate, wild fantasies thrown out the window. “Yeah, well,” you sigh, ditching your pants and climbing over him until you’re snuggled into his side. “Wanted to show you my nails.”

It’s a lame excuse. But he buys it, so.

“They’re cute,” he says, taking your hand in his. He turns your hand over, inspects your pretty new acrylics like he actually has any idea how much they cost or how sexy they look. He raises your hand to his face, pressing a smooch against your knuckles that has you heart thumping embarrassingly loud in your chest. God, you hated this fool.

You turn your nose up at him, like you’re some snooty rich girl who couldn’t give him the time of day. Except it’s not like that, and Jungkook knows.

“What’re you watching?” you ask instead.

He’s got that stupid dopey smile on you, the one that takes one nudge against his side to snap him out of. “Ah, just the game.”

You squint at the screen. “Is this Fox Sports?” you ask in disgust.

He pinches your side. “This is ESPN,” he corrects. “And you don’t know shit about sports channels,” he points out. “So sit this one out.” You give in with a huff, cuddling closer into his side while trying to jostle him as little as possible. Jungkook seems to have no deeply rooted concerns about his injured ankle if the way he hauls you into his arms is any indicator. “How did nails with Doyeon go?”

“You know, the usual,” you respond, idly toying with one of the strings on his hoodie as your eyes focus on the little figures running across the screen. He hums, gesturing for you to elaborate. “Talked about sex, how much better than you at life she is, some more sex.”

He scoffs at that. “Doyeon is not better than me, and I have a whole trophy case to prove it.”

“Okay, but have you singlehandedly Twitter beefed with an entire sorority in your freshman year of university and won?”

He frowns. “No.”

You give him a look, one that says stand down now unless you want to lose to my best friend and get your feelings hurt. Jungkook understands. “Anyway,” he announces, turning his attention back to the screen with you. You think his team might be winning—you vaguely remember seeing him wear a similar jersey once—so he’s pretty relaxed for now. “They’re doing pretty good considering they just lost their main striker.”

You have no idea what that means. “Who? Messi?”

Jungkook knows you don’t know. “He doesn’t even play in this league,” he explains anyway.

“Oh, I saw him trending on Twitter last week. Thought he died or something. Whole time it was just a bunch of soccer nerds crying about him leaving his team.”

He laughs. “You should be a sportscaster,” Jungkook decides after your ever-so-eloquent recap, tucking his head cutely against your shoulder. There was a study once that claimed the incessant need to squeeze a baby’s cheeks or hug puppies tightly was actually the innate human response to kill something they felt threatened by. Oddly enough, you find yourself thinking of that as Jungkook’s citrusy shampoo floods your nostrils.

“Oh, speaking of Doyeon,” he says suddenly. “Did you give her my address? I got a weird package from that store she likes that I genuinely don’t remember ever ordering.” You frown, sitting up slightly until you can look at the side of his face, the cute mole on his cheek calling your name.

“What?” you ask. “Was it in her name?” Jungkook nods. You’re about to tear the roof off his house and go hunt that evil wench down when realization dawns on you. “Oh, no, yeah I gave her your address. My mom stayed over last weekend and Doyeon needed to order something nasty. Guess it got delayed until now.”

Jungkook nods and then doesn’t say much else, which is weird considering the circumstances. You expected him to gently scold you for carelessly giving the psycho that was Kim Doyeon his address, but she’s been here a few times to pick you up, even came over for beer night once. She probably knew it anyway, but you still expected some type of reaction of disapproval from him.

Something’s off, and you know better than to leave it at that. You poke his cheek, right where that mole you’d been eyeing was. “Did you open her package?” you ask, grin slowly consuming your features at the fact Jungkook was apparently a mail snooper.

He looks away. You laugh. “Oh my god, you did,” you cackle, sitting up beside him to get a good look at the blush growing on his cheeks. “What did you see?”

“Nothing,” he huffs, pretending to be overly invested in his soccer match again, but that ship died the moment you stepped into his room. “Babe, I can't see the match.”

You roll your eyes, purposefully shifting in front of him so he’s forced to look at the maniac look in your eyes. “What did you see, Jeon Jungkook, and are we going to steal it from her again?”

His cheeks bloom impossibly darker at that. “No!” he coughs, pointedly avoiding your gaze.

But your curiosity is at its peak now, his reactions only exacerbating it. You grab him by the shoulders, hands balling the material of his hoodie as you give him one firm shake. “What did you see,” you demand.

“Oh my god,” he gives in. You release him and he flops back onto his pillow mountain. “They were things,” he explains slowly, cheeks rosy. “For your, y’know,” a vague gesture over his chest.

You frown. “A bra?” you guess. “I’m not gonna lie, Kook, think I just lost a little respect for you.”

“No!” he huffs. “They were… little clamps. For your nipples.”

If this was a cartoon, you’re almost certain you’d be that character with the object in question in their eyes, heart fluttering in your chest at the words that leave his mouth.

Immediately, two things become obvious to you.

One, Kim Doyeon was a bigger freak than you’d expected who obviously dabbled in an assortment of trades. Clamps, your brain screams, overwhelmed with the image that appears in your head, the one that has a shiver running straight to your core. You would have to thank her for this gracious, unintentional gift she’s bestowed upon you.

Two, you’re gonna have to write her the best, most plausible apology letter tomorrow when you inform her those clamps have been lost in the mail, never to be seen again. Or you could just straight up tell her you snatched them up the moment you found out what they were, but you doubt that’ll go over well.

Jungkook groans. “You have that look in your eye,” he points out. You snap your attention back to him. “And I just wanna say in advance that I don’t think i can give you the fun night you deserve, baby,” he apologizes, motioning towards his still swollen ankle.

Something distinctly mean switches on inside of you.

You flash him a sweet smile that has him letting down his guard. You lean forward, pressing a soft peck to his cheek as you climb down the bed towards your forgotten purse that’d been resting on the floor until that point. “Who said I needed you to have fun?” you throw over your shoulder, carefully slipping Doyeon’s first gift close to your body so he won’t see.

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed look. “Really,” he says dryly, “you think you can have fun without me?” He almost sounds cocky, as if the idea of you even enjoying yourself the teensiest bit without his help seems unfathomable.

You grin, padding over to his bedside, where you carefully pick up his hand. You mirror his actions from before, pressing a sweet kiss against his knuckles that makes that conceited look slip off his features for a second, eyes soft.

Click.

Jungkook frowns. “What the—“ before the sentence can leave his mouth you’re lunging forward, wrestling his hands above his head, until they’re both secured at his headboard by the soft cuffs Doyeon had given you that afternoon at the salon. Jungkook’s wide eyes stare back at you, briefly leaving to glance up at the silver chain that wraps behind one of the rungs of his headboard. “Babe,” he says slowly. “What the fuck.”

You beam at him, leaning down to snatch a pillow from beneath him so he’s better positioned, leaning back more. “So cute,” you gush, taking in the way his raised arms have the hem of his hoodie lifting at the waist. There’s a faint trail of hairs around his belly button that disappear beneath the elastic of his shorts. “Do you like them?”

Jungkook blinks. “Baby,” he says a second time, much slower and a little too calm for your liking. It almost gets swallowed by the roar of the fans on TV. “What is this?”

You ignore him, scampering around his room until you find the hot pink Sexuality Unleashed packaging peeking out from beneath his bed. Sure enough, it’s in Doyeon’s name but his address. A whole complicated mess just for some nipple clamps she’ll never see again. It’s what’s inside anyway, not that you thought Jungkook was lying, but there’s something about the actual, carefully wrapped packaging that makes your heart and pussy flutter.

“Oh! Aren’t these the prettiest things?” you exclaim, whirling around to where Jungkook is shaking up a storm with his cuffs, pout growing on his features the longer you leave him there. The ice pack slips off his ankle, falling onto the comforter beside him from all his movement.

Jungkook doesn’t seem the least bit interested in the silver nipple clamps in your hands, too busy trying to free himself from the sudden trap you sprung on him. “Sweetheart, we can play with those tomorrow, alright?” he tries, relaxing his arms and finally looking your way. There’s a frustrated furrow to his brows, one you rarely see but adore very much. “Just undo these cuffs for me, yeah?”

You tilt your head to the side, placing a hand on the inside of his calf that you trail all the way up as you move to stand beside his hip. His thighs flinch at your touch, tensing when you stop just before the crotch of his pants. “Mmm, don’t think so,” you smile, dropping the thin chain beside him.

Your shirt goes first, peeled over your body until you’re left standing in your bra. It’s nothing too special this time, just your average run of the mill comfort bra hugging your chest. But that doesn’t really matter, especially not with the way you’re hoping things play out tonight. You’d discarded your jeans a few moments prior, so the shirt joins them on a pile on his floor.

As much as he tries to act irritated by your refusal to release him, there’s a slow stirring beneath his shorts. It’s emphasized by that bright blue material, cock swelling as he watches you take off your clothes. “Baby,” he warns, possibly for the last time. But you won’t know unless you push some more, you tell yourself, placing one knee on the edge of the bed, the other thrown across his lap.

“Wow,” you marvel, picking the chain up once more. Jungkook shifts beneath you, half hard cock brushing against the cleft of your cheeks. “Don’t you wanna see what it’s like, Jungkookie?”

He says nothing, watching you with solemn eyes that leave no room for reading him. Behind you, the game commentator is chattering up a storm.

Doesn’t matter, especially not when this flimsy metal had you so completely hypnotized. You reach behind yourself, unsnapping your bra with one fluid motion that has the cups falling onto your lap, soft chest on display for the man before you. Your breasts spill out slowly from their cage, pretty hardened buds slowly coming into his view. They make him pause his fussing, half-lidded gaze falling to the swell of your chest hungrily. His hands jerk, the cuffs doing their job of keeping them there.

You grin, placing a hand on his chest, over his hammering heart. “Do you wanna see me wear them?” you croon, tugging the material of his hoodie up his stomach, until your thighs are sitting directly on his tiny waist, thin thong just over his belly button. You trail your hand up, letting it brush up the side of his neck and bury into his scalp. You give an experimental tug that has his eyes squeezing shut. “Yes or no, Jungkookie?”

He’s being a huge brat for you, eyes scrunched up together like the sight of you enjoying yourself sans his touch is unimaginable. Another tug of his hair and he’s exhaling shakily, a quiet, “yes,” slipping past his lips.

The chain drops onto his chest with a quiet thud, shocking him enough to blink his eyes back open. Releasing your hold on his hair, you sit back on his lap, towering over his fidgety body like a goddess at a temple, him the lowly worshipper beneath you.

Your hands crawl over your body, starting somewhere around your waist. The glide up over your tummy, caress the underside of your breasts teasingly. Sure Jungkook knew your body well, but you knew your body best. One hand rubs teasingly over your breast, palm pressing down slightly against where your nipple lies, while the other drops down between your thighs, slowly grinding against your mound.

“Look, Jungkookie,” you gasp, body twitching at your own hands. You take a hardened nub between your fingers, rolling it back and forth until it’s standing at its peak. “I can do it without you,” you tease, rolling your hips against him slowly. The thin material of your thong does nothing to save you from the delicious swell of his cock against you. “F-Fuck,” you whimper, circling a finger over your clit. “It’s, it’s even better.”

His restraints jiggle against the bed frame, an obvious look of distress crossing his features. “No,” he huffs out a whine, tugging at the cuffs as you slowly unravel on his lap. They don’t give, no matter how much he pulls. You know he’s holding back, afraid of damaging his headboard, and you take advantage of the fact as you move to roll both nipples between your fingers. He groans harshly, jaw tight. “Hate you,” he hisses, hips wiggling beneath you. “Hate you, hate you.”

You breathe out an airy chuckle. “R-Really?” you ask, trembling hands finally reaching back for that second gift of the day. Your breath is shallow, so thoroughly wound up from your own playful hands, and you tremble at the mere brush of the cool metal. “Oh fuck,” you whimper, bringing them up to your chest, “I’ve never done this before,” you confess.

There’s a sense of amazement that consumes you at the thin chain you hold in your hands, the pretty gold painted clamps on each end. It makes you shiver, body unconsciously grinding down against Jungkook’s lap where his engorged cock was fighting against the material of his shorts.

“Then let me help you,” he tries, the childish tone from before melting into his usual silky smooth baritone. Jungkook even softens his gaze at you, let’s his tongue peek out to wet his lips as you almost seriously consider his request.

Had it not been for the sudden loud shout from the sports commentator behind you, a long obnoxious gooooooaaal, you probably would have fallen victim to that honey-eyed gaze. You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills.

Without a second thought, you bring one of the little camps close to your chest, giving it a few experimental squeezes until the nerves are replaced with an overwhelming wave of horniness that even Jungkook can sense. “Fuck,” he groans, shaking his restraints back and forth like a wild animal as you slowly get to clamping your left nipple.

You’re not sure what you expected; part of you had thought it was going to be an excruciating pain, one that would make you want to scream and shout in sheer agony. The other part had reduced it to a barely there pinch that would never live up to your fantasies. As it stands, the sensation of the clamp around your swollen nipple sits right in between, drawing in a choked gasp that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Baby, sweetheart,” Jungkook gasps alongside you, eyes zeroed in on the pinched off bundle of nerves. There’s a sudden grinding sound that fills the air, like the sawing off of wood that definitely doesn’t sound good, and it’s a direct result of the fight he puts up against his headboard. “Please, please,” he begs, muscled arms tugging back and forth. “I have to touch—“

The second clamp goes on, making your entire back arch as if you were possessed. You're not, just extremely overwhelmed by the prickle of pain on your tits that makes you grind down against his cock, hands fisting the front of his hoodie like it’s the only thing grounding you right now. “Oh,” you shudder, thighs quivering at the heightened stimulation you receive from the clamps sitting on your nipples. “Kook, I-I can’t.”

He growls, hips bucking beneath you in a crazed effort to better situate you on his lap. “You gotta take these off me,” he rasps out. The next buck of his hips makes the chain dangling between your breast brush dangerously close to his face. He’s unintentionally goaded on by the TV in the room, the annoying drone of the commentator shouting something about never giving up. “Can make you feel so much better, sweet girl,” he cooes, jutting his head out like he needs a kiss.

Your head feels woozy, pussy throbbing at the sensations being channeled down into your core. Your eyes flutter shut, and before you can think it through, you're blindly reaching for the chain, giving it one light tug that has you mewling like a kitten. “O-oh, fuck,” you sob, looping your finger around the thin chain carefully. Another tug that pulls against your nipples sends a gush of wetness down between your thighs. “Cock,” you slur dazedly, “need your cock.”

Jungkook shudders out a long breath. “Le-Let me go then, sweetheart,” he chokes out, “let me fuck that pretty little pussy for you.”

“Uh uh,” you disagree, bringing another angry buck out of him, metal cuffs rattling loudly. “Want you to watch,” you pant, reaching behind you for his shorts. “Watch me, Jungkookie.” It takes three tries for you to get a grip, the elastic material slipping from your fingers before you finally gain some semblance of control and paw them down . The shorts and the boxers came off together, his engorged cock springing up to tap against your ass. “W-Watch,” you repeat dazedly, leaning forward with one hand on his shoulder to line him up with your dripping hole. Behind you, the commentator is droning on about core balance or something of the sort. It takes two tries as you blindly have to tug your panties to the side as well, and just as you have his fiery red tip against your entrance, something else happens.

He catches you, pearly teeth biting down on the chain that connects your clamps in a motion you can only liken to a bloodthirsty shark jumping out of the water, jaws snapping to catch its prey. It dangles in his face, the same way his own necklaces have done to you so many times before. But the difference between you and Jungkook was that while you let his assortment of necklaces hypnotize you, drag across your face painfully, he doesn’t. He snaps forward, catches it between his teeth.

You mewl loudly, foggy vision turning onto him. Jungkook’s got this unreadable look on his face, likes he’s pissed off and turned on all at once. “You’re not in charge,” he murmurs around the chain, the s and c sounds all slurred together. “You will never be in charge, silly girl, you got that?” he spits, yanking his head back like an animal, pulling your upper body with him by the two golden clamps on your nipples.

There’s tears in your eyes, lining your waterline and threatening to fall with each tug his mouth gives against the chain of your nipple clamps. He’s got his neck craned back as far as he possibly can with a pillow beneath him, chain links digging into his bottom lip. “Y-Yes,” you sob, your entire body quivering at the way he so easily manages to overthrow you, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, solemn eyes flickering across your twisted features once more. He gives another purposeful tug, head snapping back just the tiniest bit, but it’s enough to tug you forward again, a loud whimper torn from your throat. “Undo these cuffs for me, sweet girl,” he commands softly, jiggling the same restraints he’d spent the better part of fifteen minutes fighting against.

“Y-Yes,” you whimper, hands wildly slapping down on his bedside table. You had had half the mind to leave the key there when you had retrieved the cuffs, telling yourself it would be easy access afterwards. It’s not, apparently, the silver pick falling just out of reach. For some reason— it’s probably the sensitivity and horninesss, the pinpricks of pain that originate from your nipples —this fact frustrates you to the point of tears.

“Easy, doll,” Jungkook talks you through, voice low and soft beneath you, “relax and grab it for me, okay?” You nod, angrily blinking away a tear that drips down your face. It splatters on Jungkook’s cheek, bringing a soft huff of amusement from him.

Finally the key brushes your hand, and you sigh in relief, shakily leaning forward to undo the lock above his head. He releases his killer chomp/grip on your chain just as you release his cuffs. “I-I’m sorry,” you sniffle, a sudden need to apologize as you watch him rub at the raw skin around his wrists. “I didn’t—“

“Shhh,” he says, cuddling you into his chest. “It’s alright,” he says simply and you believe him.

Which ends up being a terrible mistake exactly ten seconds later when he’s shoving your face into the sheets, your cries and whimpers muffled by the sounds of the game on TV as he winds your arms behind your back. You struggle for all of five seconds before a soft click resounds from behind you.

“Did you think I’d just let that slide, sweet girl?” he growls against your ear, hot breath fanning across your skin. “I'm not your dog, __,” he spits, suddenly yanking you up by your cuffed wrists. Your chest is heaving, arms aching from the way he’s got you on your knees, blind to whatever he’s doing behind you. “Don’t lock me up, because I’ll always come back to bite.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you stammer, flinching when a hand snakes around your waist, an experimental tug to the chain of your clamps. It sends a shudder down your spine, amplified by the hot press of his body behind you. “I won’t do it again!”

“I know you fucking won’t,” he laughs meanly, trailing his hand down over your mound. One finger circles your clit through your underwear, a shaky sigh exiting your lips at the jarringly light touch. “Because I’m gonna fuck you until you’ve learned your lesson, silly girl.”

“I said sorry,” you whimper, thighs quivering. His cock brushes up against you, the same cock you were about to ride until the sunset. Oh how the tables have turned.

A hand slips beneath your underwear, pad of a finger rubbing against your swollen clit. “Oh,” you exhale, surprised with the suddenly gentle touch following his words. “Th-That’s nice,” you murmur, head lolling forward at the slow rhythm he sets, playing with you like you were a toy that needed warming up.

“Yeah?” he husks out. There’s a yank to your clamps that makes you gasp, chest following the motion as if it’ll reduce the shock. “You think this is about making you feel nice?” he murmurs. Another tug, followed by another, until he’s raining down a series of rhythmic shocks onto your tits that make you shiver and twitch, tongue heavy in your mouth to the point you feel like you’re drooling.

“Wait,” you whimper, arms twisting behind you. “Hurts, hurts” you cry, arching your back like it’ll save you from the steady stimulation against your rock-hard nipples.

“Does it?” Jungkook hums, one hand working away at your clit. He swirls it around his finger, pressing down on the nub in an attempt to distract you. But it only heightens the sting coming from your breasts, the blossom of pain that grows over each mound the longer he plays with you. “Good. Want your pretty little body to hurt for me, baby.”

Right after saying that he releases the grip on your chain, letting it swing back and forth until it eventually rests on your stomach, throbbing nipples spared for now. A breath of relief washes over you now that you only have to worry about the hand playing along your folds. The TV is still flickering to your right, but the commentator's voice sounds fuzzy and so far away, like he’s in a whole different dimension while you and Jungkook are here.

Your reprieve lasts shorter than you expected, as his free hand slowly begins creeping up your waist, fluttering over the little gold clamps pinching your nipples. “Pretty girl,” he compliments, nudging one tender nub with a playful finger. “Pretty, pretty baby,” Jungkook murmurs as he begins massaging the scorching hot skin around your nipples gently. There’s a warm kiss pressed to your shoulder, followed by a trail up the side of your neck. You shudder, trying to focus on the hand that creeps down your folds, teases itself against your entrance.

“Jungkook,” you whine softly, rolling your head to the side so he can suck bruise after bruise onto your skin. You’re definitely drooling, the saliva thick and heavy in your mouth. “T-Too much.”

“Thought you wanted that,” he mumbles, kissing up and up until he’s at your jaw and then he’s at your mouth, languidly kissing you. He’s doing that thing again where he’s hellbent on drowning you in his spit, and if you didn’t know better you’d think he was preparing you for something. “Wanted me to watch you bounce that tight little cunt on me while your tits were like this,” he says, punctuating his statement with a light slap against the side of one breast. It makes you jump, a moan catching in your throat.

The finger that had been playing meanly along your wet folds eases itself past your lips, plunges head first into the aching heat inside of you. He works it against your walls, thumb over your clit as he curls his finger inside of you. You moan loudly, shaking in your restraints. The hand over your chest squeezes, pushes the clamp deeper against your breast until your entire body is short-circuiting.

Your first orgasm comes over you with all the grace of a lightning bolt; it’s sudden and jerky, has every nerve ending wildly spasming as you whimper his name. “No more, no more,” you beg, head lolling back against his shoulder. He shows you no mercy, simply rubs furiously over your clit, until you’re jerking into his maniac hand.

When it’s over, he places a kiss against your jaw, curling his finger inside once more “Play with yourself,” he whispers.

“H-Huh?” you stutter, the rattle of your cuffs loud in both your ears, but not as loud as the breath you were trying to catch post-orgasm. You wonder if maybe he got ahead of himself again—he occasionally did that, thinking ahead to a point you hadn’t reached in your normal progression of sex —but suddenly he’s shoving you back down again, the finger that was slowly driving you insane rudely exiting your cunt.

You flop down against the mattress with a squeal, wiggling around like you actually had a chance of doing anything with him watching you like he is. You struggle for a few beats, every shift against the mattress rubbing harshly against your breasts until you nearly want to cry.

Just as you reach that point, he’s rolling you into your back, hands uncomfortably bent beneath you. It leaves you unwillingly arching to accommodate them, tits practically presented for him to see. “Pretty girl,” Jungkook groans, reaching down for the first time that day to touch himself.

His self restraint was truly unmatched, you realize, watching him squeeze the base of his cock. He runs a palm over his abdomen, up his chest. He drags the material of his hoodie along with it, eventually shucking it off somewhere to the side. His hair, so fluffy and soft, flops over his forehead, a few defined strands tickling his eyebrow.

The mere sight of him alone made you shiver, pussy clenching at the wet dream before you. He’s not an idiot either, obviously aware of what the sight of his body does to you, the tattoos littering his entire right arm that hypnotize you. The faint glow of the TV screen against his side makes him look like the cover star of every middle-aged wife’s erotic romance novel. He reaches said arm down, runs a hand along your thigh until you’re spreading them wide for him.

He doesn’t touch you like you want, only slides over your body until he’s toying with the chain of the nipple clamps that were slowly becoming the bane of your existence. “Open,” he says suddenly, and you do. Your mouth drops open, tongue stuck out slightly even if you don’t know why. He’s ingrained the response into you by now, made you into a desperate slut always ready for anything in your mouth.

This time it’s the stupid, stupid chain connecting your nipple clamps. He tugs it until it’s pulled up, the pull against your nipples making you whimper and writhe. The metal is cool when it touches your lips, but his fingertips are warm. “Good girl,” he praises once you bite down; even this sends a shock of nerves down your spine and to your pussy. “Just like that.”  

A muffled whimper escapes your lips, tears clouding your vision at the stimulation that was quickly overwhelming you again. Part of you thinks no more, please, I can’t. But the other has you spreading your legs for him, quivering pussy desperate to be filled.

The distress must be obvious in your face if the way Jungkook kisses your neck is any indication. He’s got one hand massaging against the underside of one breast, like he’s soothing the striking pain of your pinched nipples for you. If anything, it only strings you along more. “Stupid baby,” he chuckles meanly, a soft puff of laughter against your jaw, “thinking she could push me down.”

He leans back onto his knees, that same careful brush against the inside of your thigh bringing about an embarrassing whimper as he peels your thong away. “But you didn’t really want that, did you?” he eggs on, slowly shifting down against the bed, until his mouth is hovering over your exposed lower lips. His breath is warm, makes you yearn for him to be closer. “You like when I shove my cock into your little pussy, right? Like how it feels when I turn you into my little slut like this,” he sighs, pressing one chaste kiss against your thigh that makes you pull at the cuffs behind your back.

Soon, his mouth is on your clit, the same clit he had previously pampered with his hands but chooses to play with again. He licks an obscenely wet stripe from your throbbing hole to your clit, tongue curling devilishly towards the end. You whimper, though the sound is distorted around the chain in your mouth. Jungkook groans, dives mouth first into your cunt until he’s suffocating himself. His cute nose is pressed against your clit, and he takes advantage of the fact by taking one, dramatic sniff with his eyes rolled back. A soft moan escapes him.

“Fuck,” he shudders, “smell like heaven for me.” You moan at his sweet words, eyes squeezed shut as if that’ll stop the buckets of overwhelmed tears that you’ve been fighting off since the moment the clamps came on. “Wanna give you the world, angel,” he breathes, licking languidly against your folds, tongue occasionally peeking inside.

You mewl and writhe, every movement sending a tug of pain over your nipples. You want that gorgeous cock deep in your cunt, want to feel him in your womb, but you can’t voice any of this with the chain of the clamps between your lips.

Jungkook sits up suddenly, and you’re thinking yes, finally, before the look on his face has you screeching to a halt. There’s something distinctly different about him, a look you don’t think you’ve ever seen in bed before. Your thoughts are only confirmed when his foot slides onto the floor, as if he’s about to leave.

The panic must be evident on your face, because Jungkook is quick to swoop in and reassure you he’s not done with you yet. “Wanna fuck your little pussy,” he admits, carding a hand through your hair. “But the truth is I don’t think you deserve that just yet.”

With that he slinks off the bed, leaving you writhing in confusion as he heads off for the closet behind you. You can’t see what he’s doing, can only hear the shuffling of something back and forth. The TV is still on, the loud cheering of the fans muffling his clattering. You’re suddenly reminded of his swollen ankle, craning your neck to tell him to not overdo it, when something dark covers your eyes.

He’s standing just beside the edge of the bed, his signature teddy bear heat emanating off in waves so thick you could touch them. “Do you trust me?” he murmurs, voice close but not close to your ear.

Something swells in your chest, an emotion so intense your entire pelvis tightens up at the realization that Jungkook was asking for permission to blindfold you. You’re almost certain it’s one of his ties, a silky black thing that covers your vision for the most part, save for a little crack by where your nose juts out. A shuffle to your side, and then he’s gently prying the chain he had pushed past your lips earlier out. “Need an answer, ___,” he says quietly, almost nervously.

“Yes,” you gasp, your entire body set aflame at the sudden turn of events.

If you were being honest you would have never predicted your night would end like this. Maybe you came in a little too cocky, a little too optimistic for the night. It was supposed to be Jungkook handcuffed and powerless, you remind yourself— how on earth did you get here?

“Good girl,” he praises, giving you a little encouraging nudge to raise your head for him to actually tie the knot behind your head. It’s definitely one of his suit ties, you realize, because there’s a distinct cross-stitch pattern that you can feel only when it’s tightened against your skin, pressing against your fluttering eyelids. When he releases you, you’re suddenly all too aware of the sense he’s deprived you of.

“K-Kook?” you call out with a tremble in your voice. The rhythmic pattern of his footsteps rounds the bed again, and then there’s a soft touch against your leg.

“Right here, sweet girl,” he reassures you. The bed dips by your legs as he closes in on you, still tied up and on the verge of a second orgasm that he snatched away before your very eyes; not that you can see it anymore. His hand slides over your stomach, tugs playfully at the clamps. You moan, the sensation magnified tenfold by the fact you can’t see nor anticipate his actions now.

His hands glide like two sailing boats over the broad expanse of sea that is your body, molding against your curves like waves as they go. He hums appreciatively, and you find yourself glad you can’t see him. You can’t possibly imagine with what eyes he’s looking at you now.

You bask in the glory of his attention for another beat before he retracts his touch.

And then, suddenly, something distinctly not hand-like, and weirdly soft traces over the inside of your thighs. “Kook?” you ask tentatively.

No response.

It runs over your skin in the same way his hands just did, a unique shape your brain scrambles to put a name too. It’s soft, so soft. But cold to the touch. Inanimate for sure. It’s a toy, your brain supplies belatedly, but that much you already know.

It’s heart-shaped, you realize, just as it thwacks down against your pussy.

You shriek at the suddenness of it all, thighs clamping shut. Your heart is thundering at a pace of a rabbit’s, chest rising and falling as you blindly piece together what just happened.  “Kook?” you whimper a second time, head craning back and forth in a desperate attempt to track his next move.

He’s not touching you anymore, but the bed is still dipping by your feet, so you deduce he must be there. You test your theory by sliding your foot against the sheets, lower lip trembling at the idea of him not being there.

Jungkook catches your ankle with one warm palm, slightly calloused from years of weightlifting. He raises it up, the cold air of his room hitting your exposed pussy. “You liked it,” he says, not a question but an observation. Your pussy throbs, the phantom strike against it lingering. A kiss to your ankle.

“Wh-What is it?” you cry, unconsciously pressing your leg closer to him now that you have his location. (You don’t see the soft smile on his face at your action.) Ever so slowly you let your thighs open again, now anticipating the next touch of that thing— that riding crop, you realize.

Jungkook confirms. “It’s a riding crop,” he explains, excitement curling around his words. Suddenly, it returns, this time against your stomach. He doesn’t strike you like he did before, simply lets it run across your tummy. “Heart-shaped. It’s so pretty,” he sighs dreamily. “Reminds me of you.”

You nod anxiously, stomach muscles tensed the longer it stays there. Jungkook obviously sees this, lifting it to give you the lightest of taps that still manages to make you gasp. “Cute,” he laughs, trailing it back to where it first touched down.

“Oh,” you tremble, thighs twitching as it pats tenderly over your clit. “Wai-Wait,” you warn, body arching as he runs it down, down your swollen folds. “No,” you weep, going to close your legs. But Jungkook predicts your moves, pressing your thigh down harshly against the bed.

“Shh,” he soothes, tracing the heart down your folds, pressing it flat against you. There’s a distinct lining over it that makes your hips jump, a faux-velvet covering the tip that tickles your skin. “Sit still for me.”

“No!” you gasp. Your back arches, body betraying you as it pushes your pussy against the toy. “I can’t, I can’t, Kook,” you sob, lips contracting around the gaping nothingness in your hole.

He condemns your attitude with a harsh swat of the riding crop against your cunt, tearing another high-pitched squeal from your lips. It’s followed by another against your clit that makes your body spasm. “Bad,” he chides. “Supposed to be my perfect girl.”

“I c-can’t,” you whine, the darkness over your eyes making the sensations ten times more intense. You don’t know where he or the riding crop are if they’re not directly touching you. Even then, the image is fuzzy in your head. “Need you,” you pant.

You try to reach for him, try to pull him into your arms. But you’re reminded of the cuffs holding you back, the metal digging into your skin behind you. You sob at the realization, angrily shaking your hands back and forth like maybe acting like a tantrum-throwing child will save you. It doesn’t.

Instead there’s a tug at the chain resting on your stomach, one that makes you cry out in pain when it pulls at your terribly sensitive nipples again. Jungkook uses it to pull you close, just a small inch off the bed that has you gasping for breath nonetheless.

“N-No,” you wail, nipples throbbing from all the sensations you’ve put them through tonight.

A chaste peck against your trembling lips. “Tell me how it feels,” he purrs, nose brushing against yours. Even with the tie obstructing your vision, the latest version of your boyfriend burns itself into your eyelids, force feeding you his sweaty skin and damp hair until even his breath against your face is enough to bring you to the edge.

“I-It’s scary, Kook,” you sniffle, listening for any signs of a reaction. But even if he did show one, your breathing is too loud and the ESPN channel is still blaring on screen. “Scary,” you whimper, lunging forward in a desperate move to feel the familiar brush of his tongue against yours. You miss.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks carefully, like he’s afraid he’s pushed too far.

He has. But fuck, do you love it.

“No,” you wail, lips smushed somewhere along his cheek, near his jaw and not his mouth like you wanted to. “Feels good, feels so fucking amazing,” you babble, cut off halfway through by a hiccup from your sad cries. “Wanna cum, wanna cum for you like this.”

Jungkook chuckles in relief, tilting his head until you can catch his lips with yours. It’s probably an awkward angle you assume, him adjusting for your vision-less whims, but it feels so good. It sends a shock to your pussy, his plush lips against yours. Without him telling you, you’re opening your mouth for him. “Spit on me,” you beg pitifully.

Jungkook groans, and you can almost visualize the look on his face perfectly— the tensing of his jaw, the push of his Adam’s apple, the pucker of his lips. “God, you’re disgusting,” he sighs, a fat glob of spit hitting the back of your tongue. Without your vision, you don’t see it coming, recoiling with a whiny mewl. The thin trail of saliva that follows trails across your chin when he finally reels back. You swallow greedily, wondering how soon is too soon to ask him to do it again.

With your full permission to move forward, Jungkook wastes no time trailing the riding crop over your wet folds, collecting your oozing pre-cum on the tiny heart as he roves it over your cunt. “Fuck, you can probably cum like this too, can’t you?”

You can’t answer, too caught up in the featherlight brushes. Even if you wanted to say something, one sudden strike against your pussy renders you speechless. “Mmh!” you hiss, biting down on your lip.

“Come on,” Jungkook encourages, resting a hand on your thigh. He presses the crop against you again, pushes down until the flat apex of the heart where it meets the flexible stem of the toy is pressing against your cunt hotly. He grinds it down against you, takes a sick pleasure in the pathetic way you arch up into it, rut against the little heart like it can provide even half the pleasure his hands usually would. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

Your body is on fire, every nerve, every sensation shooting straight to your most erogenous areas— your cunt and your nipples. Talking seems like the farthest thing from your mind right now, too caught up in the way he roughly pushes the crop against your clit. A whimper rips itself from your throat, shuddering at the sensation. Unconsciously you jerk away from him, only to be scolded with another thwack against your quivering pussy lips. “A-Ahh,” you wail, squirming beneath him like a worm that can’t sit still. “Good— it feels good, Jungkookie,” you weep.

The soft mushy pet name has him raining down two snacks against you in quick succession. “No baby names,” he warns, frown evident in his voice.

Even with you completely under him like this, shackled and blinded with your love, something unmistakably childish and obnoxious curls around your throat, has you biting down on a grin as the coil in your stomach tightens. “D-Don’t like that, Jungkookie,” you choke out hoarsely, wildly bold for someone in your position. “D-Don't like being m-my baby?”

The crop loses its position over your folds, and for a minute you’re left anxiously anticipating its next touch. 

It’s on the side of your breast, harder than the rest, combining with the already powerful pinch of the clamps. It makes you cry out painfully, stomach tightening at what is probably the most unexpected orgasm you’ve ever had. It isn’t like your usual ones that overpower you and make cum trickle out between your folds.

No, it comes in waves— literally. Your pussy spasms, pushes one splurt of cum out between your thighs, almost likes your lower lips are spitting it out. And then again, more the second time, against his mattress. He pushes your legs up to your chest to marvel at the cum coating your lips and thighs. “You’re my baby, stupid,” he hisses. He grabs at your clamps then, twisting the little chain in his hand harshly. You sob at the yank, at the way your nipples feel two seconds away from being ripped off. But you can’t even complain, because the sudden touch has your pussy clenching, before a final trickle of cum oozes out of you.

Even still, your mind babbles on. “N-No,” you choke, shaking back and forth. Despite the tie covering your eyes, they flicker like a mad man beneath it, like you’ll somehow get lucky and develop Seeing Through Fabric Ability if you try hard enough. “My, my baby,” you fight weakly, pelvis trembling from aftershocks of that orgasm. “My idiot b-boy,” you smile dazedly, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the sting you’ve become familiar with by now. “T-Tell me, Jungkookie,” you croon, biting down on your lip to keep a moan from spilling out mid-syllable. “Still the same, r-right?” you stutter, “still think you’re better than me, don’t you?”

He scoffs. “No,” he vehemently denies, brashly landing an unexpected smack against your hip, no warning in sight. “That’s not true,” he defends. You can hear his pout, the little push of his lips when he grows defensive. 

You laugh, every bit the insane lunatic, fueled by your two orgasms and slipping sense of reality. “Ffffuck,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into nothing. “S-Say it again, baby,” you plead, tongue licking across your lips. “Tell me, tell me you don’t care about my problems, Kook-ah,” you whimper.

There’s a hesitant pause on his end, an unexpected lull in your play as he’s torn apart between doing what you want or playing it safe.

You know you’re confusing him, because you’re certainly confusing yourself. You don’t even bother trying to dissect your emotions— you’ve long since accepted your mind was a dangerous place when horny and presented with Jungkook’s sole attention. Well, you knew you were into the whole degradation bit, but this whole having-your-boyfriend-throw-the-words-that-made-you-question-your-entire-worth bit was certainly new and unexpected.

But there’s something in your heart (and in your libido) that needs this, needs him to fix this memory for you that maybe, kinda sorta, has haunted you for days, weeks now, as much as you hate to admit it. Needed him to fix the booboo he gave you with a bandaid, only leave a scar you could look back at and laugh off, not a gaping wound that opened at the slightest mention of it. Because while you forgave, you certainly never forgot*.

(*Unless forgetting meant having your boyfriend overwrite said memory that couldn’t be forgotten with the sheer power of his monster demon cock and wicked tongue. Only then could you forget.)

“Don’t be a fucking pussy, Jungkook,” you spit, feeling the hesitancy in the riding crop that brushes against your skin. It fades away quickly. “S-Say I’ve a dead-end office job; just holding you back,” you beg, trying to pretend the entirety of his little outburst hasn’t been ingrained into your mind for the last couple of weeks. Something flashes in your chest, throat closing off when the toy finally leaves your skin. “Tell me, tell me—“

He looms over you, teddy bear warmth covering the entirety of your body. “Is this what you want?” he asks seriously, lowly, breath fanning across your lips. Your makeshift blindfold feels distinctly damp over your eyes, chest heaving with an exertion that can only be emotional when he speaks so softly to you after routinely raining down brutal thwacks on you for the past half hour. “__,” he says sternly, “is this what you want?”

You gasp on a sob, unsure when these emotions had time to manifest outside your heart like this. You nod your head like a bobble head doll sitting on someone’s dashboard, lower lip trembling on a shameful cry that is not sex-induced like all the other ones until now. “I-I need this, Jungkook,” you admit, voice so tiny and soft, it almost gets drowned out by your shaky exhales and the crowd roaring on screen. “Need to overwrite it.”

He presses a soft kiss to your quivering lips, slow and so devastatingly loving. It’s nothing like the one from before where he’d spit down your throat per your request, and the unbridled adoration he packs into one simple kiss makes you crumble in his arms, sniffles piling on by the dozens.

He leans back after a moment, pulls your thigh over his forearm and finally lets you feel the hard ridges of his cock against your folds. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, trying to sound angry and annoyed, but there’s a lilting tone to his words, a love and trust you wouldn’t have been able to see with or without your blindfold, but can feel nonetheless. He pulls it off you anyway, the warm glow of the TV illuminating his face for you for the first time in about half an hour. Eyes soft, sweat trailing down his body. His body lines up against yours, but so does his heart. You feel it in the way he holds you in his arms, the way he’s careful about sinking into your folds. He slips an arm beneath your waist, uses it to hold you up so you’re not uncomfortably squishing your arms anymore. But if you ask, he’ll pretend he’s doing this for convenience sake only.

“T-Terrible fucking job,” he starts out, the stammer eluding the obvious discomfort he has saying those words, but he does it for you anyway. “Big fucking baby,” he tries again, slowly pushing past your tight walls with a shudder. “C-Can’t look away from you for two seconds because you’re such a fucking kid.”

“Worse,” you choke out. “Meaner. Please, Kook.”

He nods, holds your waist carefully when he finally bottoms out inside of you. “Dead-end office job,” he says, repeating the words that had made you want to crawl into a whole and never come out from. “Got some stupid fucking problems,” he tacks on, slowly withdrawing his hips from your heat. “Always complaining about the stupidest shit,” he hisses, fingers digging into your waist when it’s only the tip of his cock inside of you. “I don’t fucking care about it,” he seethes, forcefully snapping his hips into you.

They’re scrambled fragments of what he’d really said to you that night. Line after line that don’t carry a quarter of hurt or even make coherent sense for that matter. And still. 

You whimper, mind fuzzy from the thrusting pace he picks up, body fluttering at the glide of his cock against your walls. But your heart is thundering in your throat, his willingness to help fix this memory for you tightening around your every being until you can’t breathe. “I-I love you,” you cry, clenching down around him.

Jungkook groans, pulls you flush against his cock until the thin hairs around the base of his cock are tickling your skin. “Stupid, fucking child,” he groans, “immature ass nobody,” he grunts, bucking into you like your words don’t mean a thing.

“I am, I am,” you wail, suddenly hit with the cold hard truth that your body was desperately on edge. From the stimulation your nipples had gotten all night, to the ghost of the riding crop that lingered across your skin; your body was tired, so ready for a final orgasm that you’re certain Jungkook will provide. “T-Tell me y-you—“

“Shut up,” he barks, sweaty skin gliding against yours. “D-Don't tell me what to do,” he huffs, nailing you into the bed. He’s pushing you hard into the mattress, like he wants to brand you into it. “Need to fix this— alone.”

You nod numbly, the crowd behind him cheering loudly. It’s like they’re rooting for him— for the two of you —as silly as it sounds, and as bothersome as it would be any other day, today the obnoxious sounds of the ESPN soccer match only serve to fix a bad memory from before. It’s loud and cringey as all hell, but you’ll look back to this moment and laugh.

And that’s what you want most of all. You want that memory from before, that nasty fight, to go away, to disappear forever and be replaced with this one. Of him, pounding you into the sheets as his TV blares beside you, just another day, another round of sex filled with your usual kinks. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Ffffuck,” you whine when the tip of his hard cock prods against your cervix. He’s going deep, he’s going all out, because he wants to fix this too. Wants to do anything to make it right, and he’ll never know how much you appreciate him for it. “S-So deep,” you whimper, hips jumping when he rams back inside.

“Stupid slut,” Jungkook snarls, tucking his head against your neck the same way he always does. “Making me do stupid shit like this,” he bites, but you know he doesn’t mean it, know he never will again. He rocks his hips into you, no longer concerned with holding you up from uncomfortably laying on your cuffed arms anymore as he pistons into your squelching heat. He’s pressed so close over you, lips brushing against your collarbone with each snap of his hips.

All the pushing and jostling about has the chain of your clamps wildly jumping about, sprawling across the planes of your chest, above your breasts, where he snatches it up between his lips again. “Stupid, fucking—“ he slurs, jutting his head to the side like a wild stallion. You sob at the tenderness of your nipples, at the way he pays them no mercy as he continues rutting into you like a mad dog in heat. “Slut,” he spits. “S-So fuckin’ pretty.”

Your mind is in another universe, and when that last word, that devastatingly familiar term, slips from his lips mindlessly, something inside you snaps. “N-No,” you sob, legs fidgeting around his waist at the orgasm that wracks through your body against your will. “No,” you cry in frustration, “didn’t, didn’t want—“

“Stupid, stupid angel,” he babbles, seemingly unaware of your orgasm as he continues fucking into your leaking cunt, ignorant of the cum that dribbles out, creams his cock as he carries on. “Fuck,” he pants, gnaws against the chain of the stupid clamps like he can’t bare this any longer. “Love you,” he says, though he’s still stuck in that mindset from before and his sweet confession sounds more like a threat. “L-Love that childish side of you,” he confesses, finally dropping the chain— much to your relief —and surging forward to kiss you on the mouth. He tastes weirdly metallic, a thought you can’t ponder too long as he continues ramming himself past your clenched lips and into your pussy. “Your fffucking dr-drive to succeed,” he grunts, mouth smushed uncomfortably against your cheek.

“Kook, sweetheart,” you shudder, sensitive pussy spent as he drills on. His cock is still so achingly hard, and he doesn’t seem anywhere near completion. “Take it easy,” you gently remind him, can’t brush your fingers through his hair like you usually would, so you settle for pressing your lips to his cheek.

“Fuck, fuck,” he heaves, pushing so deep you practically feel him in your womb, swollen mushroom head begging for entry. “Give me it all,” he stammers, “want you—want this forever.”

“I know you do, baby,” you coo, nuzzling your nose against his when he sloppily surges forward, panting and gasping over you like a crazed caveman. “I’m yours,” you gently remind him.

“No,” he chokes out hoarsely, eyes screwed shut. “Need more, all of it,” he mumbles. “Give me yourself, ___, need you for the rest of my life—“ he cuts himself off with a shuddered whine, so airy and wispy it makes you shiver. “Ffffuck, shit,” he howls, each thrust into your walls only unraveling him more and more. “Give me, give me—“

“Anything,” you whimper, body trembling from his excessivity. “What do you want, Kook-ah?”

He says nothing, losing himself in the warmth of your pussy as his orgasm rounds the corner. He’s in the final stretch, the final straight until achieving nirvana alongside you at the finish line. And, as you’ve long since come to understand, a true Jungkook Danger Zone. He loses all sense of self, random syllables and phrases slipping through his lips.

“Fuck, fuck, marry me— marry me,” he moans, snapping his hips into you with a ferocious speed that has you bouncing against the sheets, and that’s despite the tight grip his has on you. “Let me— fuck— let me fuck a baby into you, sweetheart,” he purrs, eyes shining like an absolute psycho, but you’re apparently into that because the idea squeezes around your chest and burrows it’s way in. “A baby,” he marvels like an idiot, eyes big and sparkly, “f-fuck.”

“Wh-What?” you choke, flinching when he bites down against your lower lip. He’s got you trapped beneath him, stuffing your brain with these ideas that make your heart enter cardiac arrest, body tingling like in Mario Kart when you’ve got the star power up. “Kook—“

“Sh,” he groans, digging his fingers into your sides as he rolls his hips against you. “Almost,” he informs you, but the blood rushes to your ears. “Oh, fuck,” he pants, jaw clenching, “oh, baby.”

Jungkook cums with a shivered cry, body hunching over you like some entity has just exited out of his spine. Maybe something did, because afterwards he manages to hold himself above you for exactly three seconds before dropping the entirety of his hefty muscles onto you. “Ouch,” you whine, wrists twisted uncomfortably beneath you.

“Sorry,” he huffs, completely out of breath and dazed as he rolls away from you. He ends up spread out like a starfish beside you, completely fucked out and definitely zooming through the fifth, sixth, and seventh dimensions.

He doesn’t say anything for a hot minute, chest rising and falling like he’s just run a marathon, until you butt in. “Kook. Undo me,” you remind him.

He looks over at you, dark hair falling over his eyes and sprawling around his head like a halo. Oh, he was going to be the death of you. “Oh,” he says, like his brain has just processed the information. “Right.” He sits up, tucking himself back into the shorts he never fully took off. That was his character flaw; never bothers to get completely naked during sex. Anyway, his straight male-equivalent of booty shorts come up around his thighs again, stretching sinfully across the thick muscles.

The five sonnet poem that was gearing up in your head comes to a halt when he touches your breast. “No, no more,” you cry, instinctively withering away.

Jungkook snorts. “I’m just taking them off, baby,” he says, reaching forward again with the same practiced ease you’d use on an animal. The clamps come off, all the nerves suddenly coming back to life. It’s a weird sensation, not having your tits subject to that prickling pain anymore, and it makes you moan softly. Jungkook soothes you with his wannabe masseuse hands, but you think it’s just an excuse for him to fondle your breasts.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks gently, hovering over you like a damned surgeon or something. His voice is so silky and smooth, hands soft against your chest. He’s so careful in the way he turns you over, somehow magically producing the tiny key pick you swore was lost between the sheets after its first use.

Being on your chest makes you tremble like a leaf, the faintest brush of the cotton against your tits enough to make your pussy clench weakly. “ I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, carefully detailing his actions like you’re not watching him with your very own eyes. But it’s oddly comforting, having him walk you through the process of rolling your sore wrists. The inside of the cuffs had a plush lining, but it was a pretty cheap thing. After he’s done massaging the skin, he pads over to his dresser and returns with a shirt and undies for you. “Shirt,” he says, helping you into the clothing.

When you’re all snuggled under the sheets again, the television still loud as hell, he mumbles, “wanna talk about it?”

You exhale against his chest, feeling so light and fluttery from your orgasms and the way he runs his fingers through your scalp and the way his heart thunders by your ear. “Hm,” you hum pensively. “Nah. Think I’m fine now,” you admit.

Jungkook chuckles. “A full miracle recovery?” he teases. You nod, taking in the comforting scent of his fabric softener and just him in his entirety.

“Yep.” A beat of silence, the commentator is back to filling the space between you two. He talks about a mile minute, spewing stats and plays you could never understand in a thousand years. But you know Jungkook will get sucked in soon enough, so you strike while the pot is hot. “Do you wanna talk?”

He cranes his neck a little to look at you. “What do you mean?”

You roll your eyes, pushing yourself up to look at him straight on. “Oh, my mistake,” you drawl. “I seem to have missed the part where we were going to act like you didn’t just ask for my hand in marriage and then offered to get me pregnant—,” you pause, the realization suddenly hitting you like a trash can whipping down a hill on a rainy day at a thousand miles per hour. “Pregnant!” you exclaim, cheeks warm at the fact he really just said that to you.

Jungkook’s cheeks fare no better, a Flaming Hot Cheeto shade dusting his skin. “I, it was just…” he tries, poor tiny monkey brain working overtime to offer an excuse. “It-it doesn’t have to be a thing,” he blushes, big Bambi eyes flickering from you to the television to the heart-tipped riding crop by the foot of the bed. “I was just…”

You raise your brows. “Consumed by the spirit of King Henry IV to have fourteen kids?”

He blinks. “Wait, you actually paid attention to that film?”

“That’s not the point!” you exclaim, shifting onto your knees in front of him. “What,” you inhale sharply, heart beating wildly in your chest, “what was that?”

Jungkook can only play the shocked angel card for so long before he’s sinking back into his pillow stack with the sigh of a man who’s worked in construction for the last sixty-four years. “I just,” he mumbles, “I think about it sometimes.” His admission makes your heart lodge itself into your throat, wide eyes watching him spill out his heart to you.

He misreads the expression on your face. “I-Not now!” he hurries to explain. “Like,” he stammers, rosy hue slowly crawling down his neck, over his ears. “Maybe, y’know? In the future…”

You blink, brain reduced to a series of beeps and clicks like that of an old computer trying to compute information that is simply not processing. “Yeah…” you murmur, unsure of what to do with the film reel that suddenly flashes before your eyes, a look into a doorway you had never considered before. “I— me too.”

Jungkook chokes on his own saliva. “Really?” he yelps, has those sparkly anime girl eyes you always tease him about.

The gulp you do sounds loud in your ears. “Yeah,” you breathe, throat drier than the desert, but more confident than the first peabrain response. “I-I’d like that.”

There’s a bright beam of light that shines right in your face, so vibrant and dazzling it makes you flinch and by the time you’ve recovered you realize it’s his smile. “Yeah?” Jungkook mumbles back, pearly teeth framed by his pretty smile, brows raised at your stuttery confirmation. You nod. His lips twist into a smaller grin, a condensed version of the superstar one he gave you just moments before. Before you can brush it off with a joke, he’s snatching your hand up in his, a soft smooch pressed to your knuckles. “Okay,” he says quietly, dark eyes meeting yours. “One day?”

Your heart constricts in your chest, and all you can do is nod. “One da—“

“Goooooaaaaallllll!” the announcer on screen shrieks, the loud sounds of the TV killing your mood instantly.

Any dumbstruck, love struck, idiotic, ditzy expression on your face is wiped clean, replaced with an unimpressed glare you narrow on him. His nose is scrunched up like he wants to laugh, lips pressed into a thin line at your annoyance. He swipes the TV remote off the side table, arms spread open for you to crawl back into. You do so with a huff, pout smushed against the front of his hoodie.

“That’s enough ESPN for today,” he chuckles, switching the channel about a thousand times until Rick and Morty is playing on screen. “I’ll just watch the highlights later.”

“ESPN,” you scoff like an evil villain in a movie who’s just been presented with their mortal enemy, fisting the front of his hoodie.

Jungkook nods. “ESPN,” he repeats. A beat passes. “Kinda like BDS—“

“Go get your ice pack.”

epilogue

Because Jungkook couldn’t sit still for that one eventful night following his ladder injury, he ends up in a medical boot for one week, loudly clunking around the place like a reverse pirate. You snap a picture of him that you post on Twitter for your twelve followers to see, just him pouting at the doctor’s office with his new boot and club jersey on to celebrate last night’s victory.

It’s just a cute pic for you and your friends to laugh at.

Until it’s not, and his handsome face is circulating around the entire internet.

He’s being called the Face of FC Seoul, with desperate women messaging you left and right for his information. Other fans are bragging about the beauty that is an FC Seoul fanboy. It gets to the point where his face appears on the next night’s ESPN Nightly Recap, a special on social media stars posting about the game. Except Jungkook is neither a social media star nor did he even post about the game— you did.

But there he is, all five feet and ten inches of him smiling brightly at you from the ESPN Sports channel, wearing the boot he got from hand cuffing and whipping you to completion. 

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

#goldenclosetnet #bangtanhq #networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #jeon jeongguk smut #bts smut #mine

[stressy-enby]

Some Scars aren’t Physical: PART 2

Iida X GN! Reader

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Allusions to past abuse, swearing, slight panic attack, L-bombs, and the obligatory Izuku texting POV 😜🤪

Summery: (Y/N) had a terrible boyfriend in middle school. He was possessive, manipulative, and just plain awful. Since breaking up with Him, (Y/N)’s had pretty bad relationship anxiety. It’s so bad, that it makes them afraid to pursue their new crush: the kind, earnest class rep, Tenya Iida.

Link to Part 1

Masterlist

Please note: Reader is a little short. Like, Iida’s a tall boi, and Reader’s implied to be short enough to at least have to tilt their head a little to fully see them. If you’re 5’10 or taller, (first of all, fuck you, can I have your height?) then kindly overlook every time reader is described as short. I’m 5’2, leave me alone.

Btw, this is the end, y’all. I only planned 2 parts. Enjoy 😘 

. . .

Summer came. Villains attacked, a classmate was kidnapped and rescued, and you moved into the new school dorm system. You and Tenya had been going out for a little over a month. You were thrilled to be closer to him with the dorms, and he had shared your enthusiasm, even if it was somewhat more contained. 

“Y’know what’s funny?” You looked up at Tenya, swinging your interconnected hands between you. “I still don’t think I’ve gotten used to the convince of the dorms.”

“Well, we haven’t been here very long.” The bespectacled boy mused with a smile. 

“Yeah, but it’s like… somethings I forget that we’re even in the dorms.”

“Really?” Tenya pressed the Up button on the elevator, running his thumb over your knuckles as you waited for the doors to open.

“Uh-huh. Just yesterday Izuku and I were texting and planning a movie night, I made said something like ‘wanna come over to my place or should I head over to yours’, and he was like ‘we’re literally within the same 500 yard radius of each other. It doesn’t matter.’ My dumb ass really thought I was still in my own house.”

Tenya laughed as you pulled him into the waiting elevator and punched in your floor number. “What movie are you planning on seeing?”

“I’m going to make his sit through all of Mama Mia!, and possibly the sequel if we don’t start too late.” You cut your eyes to the side to squint playfully at your boyfriend. “Why? You want in?”

“If you’ll have me, I don’t want to encroach on your “bestie time”.” Tenya pulled his hand out of yours to make over exaggerated air quotes. 

You scoffed, lightly shoving him out of the elevator as it opened on your floor. “I highly doubt he’d care. Homeboy won’t say it to your face, but you’re his bestie too.” You grabbed his forearm, hugging it to yourself.

“If you’re sure, I wasn’t kidding about not wanting to intrude on you and Midoriya’s time. I know he’s important to you.”

You smiled warmly up at him, coming to a stop in front of your dorm room. “I really appreciate that, but you have nothing to worry about. If I didn’t want you there, I wouldn’t offer.”

“Hmm. I just might take you up on that, then.”

Tenya took both your hands in his own, brushing his lips against your knuckles. You giggled softly, squeezing his hands in response.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” You said quietly. “It’s been really weird lately, we defiantly needed a night out.”

“Yeah. Things seem to be settling down, but I think the training camp incident’s still heavy on many of our minds.” Tenya sighed. “I know it is on mine.”

You hummed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Then you certainly deserved a date night.”

He chuckled, a soft, blissful expression painting his sharp features. He cleared his throat, his cheeks beginning to darken. “(Y/N), uh, I’m going to ask you something. Before I do though, I want you to know that saying “no” is an expectable answer. I’m not going to be upset, I promise.”

You raised both eyebrows, brows furrowing. “Okay,”

Tenya took a deep breath, squinting his eyes shut for a second before reclaiming eye contact with you. “Can I kiss you?”

You swore the world stopped. You vaguely heard laughter from the dorm a few doors down, but it didn’t register. All that mattered was Tenya. Beautiful, respectful, wonderful Tenya, and how he wanted to kiss you. He hadn’t asked when you’d had your first kiss back in middle school. He just swooped in and-

Nope. You’re not thinking about Him. He’s not here. He can’t hurt you anymore. Tenya’s here, and he’s asking if he can kiss you. 

And you want him to kiss you.

“Yeah. Yeah, I would really like that.”

A small smile cracked across Tenya’s nervous face. He gently cupped you face with his hand. “You’re sure? Absolutely sure that you…”

You stood on your toes, knotting your fingers behind his neck. “Kiss me, Tenya.”

And he happily, albeit nervously complied.

. . .

After a draining school day and the mountain of homework that followed, all you wanted to do was collapse. You flopped over on your bed, groaning into the blanket. You were so tired you didn’t even feel like going down to the main floor for dinner; you figured you could raid your mini fridge when you got hungry.

Tenya’s gonna have a heart attack if he thinks I’m skipping meals, you thought with a dry chuckle. Just as you were unlocking his phone to text him, you heard a knock at your door. 

“Yeah?” You called, refusing to leave the comfort of your bed.

“It’s me, Tenya.” He replied. “Can I come in?”

“Sure. Yeah, get in here.” You sat up to greet your boyfriend, tossing your phone aside.

He entered, pressing a kiss to your forehead before joining you on the bed. “How are you, dear? You’ve been hiding in here since the class ended.”

“Tired. So tired.” You mumbled, leaning into his large frame. 

“Oh, well, that certainly explains your absence.” Tenya remarked. “Are you hungry? I was thinking we could go out someplace to get something to eat. Somewhere off campus.”

“Um, I…”

You’d never liked saying no, especially not to Tenya. You’d never really had a reason to; you usually agreed with whatever he suggested. He’d never liked it when you said no to Him. He’d guilt you into giving into whatever it was He wanted. He’d twist your emotions until you couldn’t do anything but halfheartedly agree to His whims.

You were still far too tired. You couldn’t even bring yourself to go downstairs, much less out of the school. You didn’t want to. You wanted to say no.

But the word wouldn’t form. 

“(Y/N)? Honey, are you okay?” Tenya asked, a concerned expression taking root on his face. “You look distressed, and you’re shaking, what’s wrong?”

“Uh, I-” You swallowed thickly, breathing going funny. “I don’t-”

“Shit,” Tenya muttered under his breath. He slipped off the bed to kneel in front of you, taking both your hands in his own. “Shhh, (Y/N)? I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but I promise you’re going to be okay. Try taking some deep breaths, okay? It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

You slowly calmed down, your anxiety settling as Tenya whispered soothing words and caressed your hands. “I’m okay. Thanks.”

“Of course,” He murmured, brushing hips lips against your knuckles. “Can you tell me what happened?”

You hung your head, shame twinging in your gut. “I’m too tired to go out, but I wasn’t sure how to tell you no. I guess I got nervous.”

“Okay, why is that scary to you?” Tenya retook his seat next to you, rubbing a gentle hand across your back. “‘No’ is an acceptable answer, (Y/N). You shouldn’t force yourself to do anything you don’t want to do.”

You tugged on his shirt, eyes beginning to brim with tears. “Can I sit in your lap?”

“Oh, come here.” Tenya encouraged, opening his arms.

You crawled onto him, sitting sideways on his thighs and leaning against his chest. He tenderly wrapped his arms around you, tucking your head into the crook of his neck.

“I had a boyfriend in middle school who wouldn’t let me say no to Him.” You muttered, nuzzling more into Tenya. “He’d guilt me into doing whatever He wanted. He did a lot of other shit too, I don’t think I can get into all of it right now, though. You’re nothing like Him, and I know that. I really like you a lot, Tenya, and I trust you, but I still get nervous sometimes because I keep thinking about what it was like with him and it’s ruining things with you and I don’t wanna fuck this up and I hate it and-”

“(Y/N), you’re crying.” Tenya interrupted, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, honey.”

You nodded mutely, wiping the rest of your tears. “ ’m sorry,”

“Please don’t think you have to apologize. I understand. You have nothing to be sorry for.” He assured you, gently rocking you back and forth. “None of this is your fault.”

He held you for another few minutes, rocking you until your tears stopped falling. “Thank you, Ten.”

“You’re welcome, dear.” He kissed your forehead, smiling loving at you."Can you promise me something?”

“I don’t know, what is it?” You asked, squinting.

Tenya laughed softly. “That you’ll say ‘no’ to me when you have to.”

“I’ll try,” You twisted your shirt in your fingers. “I don’t want you to be upset with me, though.”

“For what? Having your own opinion? Not wanting to do something?” He pulled away from you a little to look you in the eyes. “That’s unfair to you. You’re far too precious to me. I don’t want you to feel like you’re trapped being with me.”

You laughed breathily, smiling for the first time all night. “That’s just it, Tenya. I don’t feel trapped. I feel free.”

Tenya let out a dumbfounded laugh, blush spreading across his face. “W-well, I’m glad.”

You softy threaded your fingers into his hair, kissing him sweetly. He melted into your touch, pacing a hand on the back of your head.

“Thank you,” You whispered against his lips.

“For what?”

“For just… being you. You’re amazing, Ten.” You pursed your lips, organizing your thoughts. “And… I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.”

Tenya’s grip on you suddenly slackened out of shock. You would’ve slid right out of his lap if you hadn’t anchored yourself by griping his shoulders.

“Woah, sorry,” Tenya quickly gathered you into his arms again, face burning. “You surprised me. Um, did- did you mean it?”

“How could I not?”

 Tenya let out a dazed puff of air, a flustered smile tugging at the cornered of his lips. He lightly kissed your jaw, his fingers dancing over your waist with a feather-light touch. “I love you too, (Y/N).”

. . . 

(Y/N): Yeah, I was just too tired to go down to dinner. Don’t worry, I’ve got food up here. Tenya wanted to go out for dinner, but a minor panic attack changed his mind 😎

Izuku: Wait, panic attack? What happened?

(Y/N): He asked if we could go, and I got a little nervous about telling him no

(Y/N): I freaked out a little bit, and he held me for a while. I told him a little about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named

Izuku: …Voldemort??

(Y/N): 😑

(Y/N): Yes, Izuku. I dated Voldemort in middle school.

Izuku: Lol, how’d that convo go?

(Y/N): Really well, actually. Tenya was supper understanding. God I love him.

Izuku rolled his eyes, snickering as he texted back, Totally news to me. 🤣 When did you come to that realization? 

As he hit send, a different text notification slid across the screen.

Iida: (Y/N) got anxious about something and explained a little of their “bad dating experience” you mentioned to me. They were a little distressed about the whole thing, but they still managed to fluster me.

“What am I, the middle man?” Izuku asked himself, sighing as he texted his friend back.

Izuku: Ooh boy. What’d they do?

Another text from you. Izuku navigated back to your thread. This was already getting tiresome.

(Y/N): I dunno. We had a date a month-ish ago, and we had our first kiss afterwards. I think I may’ve had some sort of idea that I was in love with him then, when he asked if he could kiss me.

Iida again. “Good grief,” Izuku muttered.

Iida: They told me they loved me. It threw me for a loop, but I managed to regain control of my senses to tell them that I loved them too.

Izuku: Geez, you two are hopeless.

Iida: What do you mean?

Izuku: I’m currently switching back and forth between texting both you and (Y/N) gushing over each other.

Iida: Oh.

Izuku: Yeah man. This is fun and all, but (Y/N) called me as their wingman first. Go get your own, lmao

Switching back over to your message, Izuku sent one last text:

Izuku: That’s really sweet. Anyway, Iida is also texting me at the exact same time as you are. Thought I’d pass along a message he didn’t ask me to pass: he’s head over heels for you. I’m now muting my phone. Being friends with you two is exhausting. 

#mha #bnha #iida #tenya #tenya iida #iida x reader #tenya x reader #tenya iida x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #deku #izuku #midoriya #izuku midoriya #deku x reader #midoriya x reader

[uwuwriting]

Todoroki, Shinsou and Iida protecting you

Request: Hello can I request todo, shinsou and iida protecting their girlfriend from cat callers or something like that? Basically her being in a really uncomfortable situation and even though she is a fearless hero in the field because of past trauma she freezes up in these situations? Thank you - anonymous

This post might trigger some people since they might have experienced something similar both in the cat calling and past trauma department. I’ve never really written anything so serious and triggering before so this might suck. I’m sorry in advance. So TW beware. Love yaa.💖💖💖

rules

warnings: trauma, PTSD, semi non-con but not explicit, cat-calling, harassment, ends in fluff

Todoroki Shouto

-Shouto is really protective of you. 

-Not an overbearing type of protective, he just wants you to be safe and sound. 

-Also he knew about your abusive past.

-When he shared his family background you shared your own trauma and history with physical abuse. 

-It hurt him to hear you saying that someone you trusted, someone who used to be in his place, betrayed you like that. 

-If he could find your ex and beat him to a plump because of how he scarred you, he would. 

-But you reassured him that you were alright now, that he showed you what being loved felt like even though he himself didn’t really know how to love and that your past is what pushed you to be a hero. 

-Your relationship lasted even after high school and now, one year into the adult world, you two lived together. 

-It had been a tough day for your boyfriend at work, having to fight three major villain attacks and a mountain of paper work to tackle. 

-Fighting along side you was the highlight of his day. 

-He was the first to arrive at your apartment and had gotten to preparing dinner for you when his phone rang. 

-You smiled back at him from the screen as he accepted the call. 

- “Hey, love. I making so-”

- “Sho someone is following me.”

-He heard the panic in your voice and immediately turned off the stove walking to the door to put on his shoes. 

- “Y/N where are you?”

-You gave him your location and he was out the door in no time. 

-He kept you on the phone, talking to you, trying to restrain your panic. 

- “H-he was outside of the pharmacy near the a-agency.” 

-You never stuttered, oh god he was going to kill the man. 

- “I walked past him and he grabbed my arm a-and pushed me on the w-wall. Shouto he tried to t-touch me.”

-He was running now, his rage making his quirk go crazy as flames rose from his left shoulder. 

- “Baby I’m almost there, go into the convenience store on the corner and wait in there.”

-Your weak okay from the other line pushed him further. 

-He knew how certain acts reminded you of your ex, even after all these years. 

-They would send you into a small panic and even though you were one of the top upcoming heroes , you were still human at the end of the day your own past haunting you. 

-He was always there to chase those fears and memories away, never letting them get to close to you. 

-And now that’s exactly what he has set out to do; chase away the man who tried to hurt you. 

-Rounding the corner he was met with a sight he wished to never ever witness again. 

-It seems that you hadn’t made it into the store when he hang up and he slapped himself for not keeping you on the call for longer. 

-He heard your sobs as the man had you pinned to the wall his hand trying to unzip your jeans. 

-Shouto was fuming. 

-Without a second thought he grabbed the man by his jacket and shoved him to the ground, grabbing your elbows to steady you before pushing you gently behind him as the man stood up. 

- “Want a taste of her too boy?”

- “Get the fuck away from her!”

-Shouto kept one of his arms behind him pressing you onto his back as the other activated his quirk frost forming from his elbow to his palm. 

-He could feel your trembling as you clutched onto his shirt, on of your hands grasping his own squeezing it. 

-The man backed away at the sight of Shouto’s ice raising his hands in the air admitting defeat. 

-Shouto however had other plans. 

-Freezing the man on the spot he growled as he fished his phone out of his pocket and called the police reporting what the man had done and his location.

- “If I ever see you again anywhere near her I’m not going to be this kind got it?”

-And with that you two left as the police sirens sounded in the distance. 

-Back in your apartment, Shouto helped you get undressed and then ran you a bath, wiping away the man’s touch and leaving small kisses were his hands used to be. 

-He helped you get dressed in one of his hoodies and a loose pair of sweatpants before setting you down on the couch and ordering your favorite food.

-He heard your small sniffles and sat down beside you, bringing you on his lap and letting you cry it out, rocking you back and forth as he kisses your hair.

-You calm down after some time but Shouto won’t let you leave his embrace.

- “I won’t let anyone else hurt you ever again. I don’t care where I am you will always call me when something happens. I love you.”

-For the next month or so Shouto was at your beck and call, never leaving your side and even going as far to take some days off to spend as much time with you as possible.

-He kept his promise as he kept you safe for the rest of your lives. 

Shinsou Hitoshi

-Hitoshi was there for you when he found out about how one of you family members had hurt you. 

-He was there when you would wake up with nightmares while sleeping in his dorm. 

-Or when you had panic attacks after someone came at you in a way that seemed all too familiar. 

-He was there every step of the way. 

-Hitoshi was really amazed at how you zoned in on your work and those thoughts never held you back. 

-PTSD was hard to battle and even harder to deal with in a work place such as yours. 

-After high school your panic attacks fell in numbers, leaving you to rest peacefully at night.

-Shinsou was sure he had chased your demons away, that you felt completely safe with him and that he would never see your trembles of fear ever again.

-But he was wrong. 

-You two were out on a date, walking along the beach on a sunny day enjoying each others company. 

-Shinsou went to buy you two ice cream leaving you to wait for him on a bench.

-You were minding your business, checking up with your agency to make sure everything is alright; after all it’s not everyday that your main two heroes are out of commission for the day. 

- “Damn girl where’d ya get all that ass!”

-It came from a group of man behind you who were staring at you like a piece of meat.

-You tried to ignore them switching to your messages ready to text Hitoshi.

- “Those shorts look so tight on you sweetheart.”

- “I bet it’s not the only thing that’s tight about her.”

-You had frozen up at the nickname.

-It brought back everything you and Shinsou had managed to scare off, pushing them down your throat making your insides twist in disgust. 

 -He isn’t here it’s just some awful cat callers, Y/N calm down. 

-You tried to calm yourself down using your common sense, separating the two situations and pointing out the differences, a  technique Shinsou had taught you while you were still in high school.

-You were so lost in thought you hadn’t noticed the three men hovering over you, one of them reaching down to grasp your thigh. 

-That’s when you started to tremble.

- “Aw look at her, she’s so excited..”

- “Let’s go have some fun pretty girl.”

- “We’ll make you feel so good you won’t be able to walk home.”

-You shoved the man’s hand away and went to get up only for an arm to snake around your waist  pulling you back down on the bench. 

- “Now now sweetheart don’t be naughty.”

-You wanted Hitoshi. 

-You wanted your Hitoshi so bad right now.

-And as if you had summoned him, purple hair could be seen above the men’s heads. 

-Shoving them off of you one more time you pushed through hitting Shinsou’s chest as he wrapped an arm around you. 

-He pushed you behind his back before scanning the three men, leveling them with a glare so sharp it could slice right through them. 

- “You better leave my girl alone before I get really angry.”

-The men scrambled to their feet before running off, terrified from Hitoshi’s structure. 

- “Kitten! Kitten are you alright? Did they hurt you? Please kitty talk to me.”

-Tears ran down your cheeks and Shisnou just pulled you gently into his chest before telling you that he was taking you home.

-This man will do everything in the house after that. 

-He undresses you and helps into the shower to clear their touch from your skin, then he dresses you in one of his large hoodies and lays you on the couch. 

-He can see you are still trembling so he comes back and takes you into his arms before going back to doing whatever he had in mind. 

-Now this is a scene to behold. 

-Two of Japan’s strongest heroes are walking around their house cosplaying a panda and its bamboo stick. 

 -He orders take out and then lays on the couch, still having you on his lap drowning your sobs in his chest as he says over and over again how sorry he is for leaving you alone and how much he loves you. 

-He knows you haven’t had an episode in what felt like ages. 

-It really shook him seeing you so helpless and terrified again. 

-He swore he would never see that petrified glint in your eyes. 

-That was his new mission. 

-And he was willing to do anything to accomplish it. 

Iida Tenya 

-Iida is well aware about how your ex had forced you to do certain things with him. 

-He also knew how you believed that what had happened had been your fault. 

-He had reassured you that nothing was your fault,that your ex was to blame and to never see yourself other than the victim in this situation. 

-It hurt him to see you suffer so much. 

-He had provided you with a shoulder to cry on and soon enough you two were together.

-When during your last year of high school, his comfort and words didn’t really cut it he encouraged you to see a therapist. 

-And that helped you a lot. 

-It untangled the parts Iida couldn’t reach on his own and coupled with his support you managed to pull yourself fully out of the whole that your ex had dug. 

-Now Iida knew that somethings still triggered you. 

-He knew what he should and shouldn’t do while you two are being intimate and what he should watch out for. 

-So when you two are taking the train to visit Deku in his agency for his birthday and he feels you squeezed his hand a little too hard he knew something was up. 

-You had buried you face in his shoulder, something he wouldn’t allow if you had asked, squeezing his hand as your breathing became uneven. 

-Iida looked around expecting to see your ex somewhere thinking that he was the reason for your small attack. 

-But he found no one he knew in the crowd. 

-Then his eyes fell back down to you and from the corner of his eye he caught movement under your dress. 

-Following the source of the movement with his eyes he was met with the lustful eyes of a grown ass man, his hand under your skirt groping and squeezing you. 

-He saw his hand trying to separate your thighs and that’s when he fully snapped. 

-Grabbing the man’s hand he shoved it in his chest before placing himself between you and him. 

- “How dare you touch her like that? You should be ashamed of yourself!!”

-The whole train was looking at the man at this point and Iida could see how the vein on his forehead popped. 

- “Being an adult, you should know better.”

-Others chimed in insulting and shaming the man while others asked you if you were alright. 

-At the next stop the person got off a chain of angry comments following him out. 

- “Y/N honey are you alright?”

-You buried your face in his chest and he let you stay there for the rest of the ride. 

-He placed on hand on your back rubbing soft circles over your sweater and talking to you not allowing your thoughts/memories to creep further into your mind. 

-He kept your hand in his for as long as you were away from your apartment. 

-You would squeeze his hand every now and then, grounding yourself. 

-Once at home late that evening he pampered you. 

-He ran you a bubble bath and cooked your favorite food. 

-He made a small pillow fort on your couch while you were in the bath and he waited for you to finish. 

-The rest of your day and night was spent in your boyfriend’s arms never letting you go once. 

-He provided his warmth and comfort. 

-Just like when you were in high  school.

TAG TEAM AY:

@iwaqchan​ @the-arcana-fan-fic​ @angelwritings​ @axerrri​ @reinyrei​

#todoroki shouto #todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #mha todoroki #shouto x reader #todoroki x you #todoroki x y/n #shinsou fluff #my hero academia shinsou #shinsou x y/n #shinsou x you #shinsou x reader #iida tenya x reader #my hero academia iida #iida x reader #iida tenya #bnha iida #iida x you

[nalgenewhore]

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“Lorcan,” snapped a sharp voice. He groaned into his pillow, screwing his eyes shut at the threat of sunlight. 

“What do you want, Maeve,” Lorcan bit out, not in the mood for his aunt’s conniving bullshit this early in the morning. He was here as a favour to his father and nothing, nothing more. “I’m sleeping.” 

“It’s almost eleven o’clock and Miss DuBois will be here at noon,” she hissed, trying to rip his duvet away. Lorcan swore and pulled it back, just remembering that Maeve was forcing him to take Remelle DuBois of all people as his date. He turned onto his back and sighed through his nose. 

“So? The fucking thing doesn’t even start till one, let me sleep,” he protested, flinging his arm over his eyes. “You lost, Maeve. The title is Elide’s.” Neither missed the fact that he said ‘you’, further confirming that his stake was not as… passionate in his aunt’s cause. 

Maeve scoffed dismissively, glaring out the windows into the gardens where workers were setting up for the garden party. The guest list was filled with Terrasen’s elite, all joining to celebrate Elide and Fenrys’ upcoming nuptials. “It’s not over until she puts that damned ring on his finger, the little sneaky bitch.” 

“Don’t call her that.” The words escaped him before Lorcan’s brain could catch up with what Maeve was saying. She paused, looking at him curiously. Lorcan rolled his eyes and got out of bed, “I’m going to change now so do you think you could possibly fuck off?” There was no lost love between nephew and aunt. 

“We are not finished here.” 

“Get out of my room.” 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Fenrys kicked his feet as Elide sat patiently. Lysandra chastised the man, who was already dressed in a grey suit. His tie and pocket square matched her sage green tea dress. It had flutter sleeves and a modest v-neckline. The dress cinched at the waist before the chiffon skirts fell elegantly to just beneath her knees. 

Philippa pinned Elide’s old school, Hollywood curls so they tumbled down one shoulder. She stepped back after applying a light layer of hairspray to ensure it would stay in place during the afternoon. “Now, you’re all ready for the party.”

Elide chuckled. She stood, slipping her hand into Fenrys’ elbow, “You’re a true artist, Philippa.” 

“Oh,” the older woman waved her hands, “nonsense. I had a beautiful subject to work with.” Philippa handed her a lace fan, a sage ribbon hanging from it.

“That you did,” Fenrys said, dipping his head to kiss his fiancée’s cheek. He grinned at Elide’s blush when she pushed him away. 

“Stop flirting with me.” 

“Ugh, I love it when you tell me I’m not allowed to flirt with my betrothed.” 

Elide rolled her eyes and turned on her white and strappy heels. She tugged Fenrys along, shouting a ‘thank you’ over her shoulder to Philippa. Fenrys kept her laughing the entire way to the garden with witty jokes and snarky comments. Elide snorted, trying to keep her composure when they turned the corner and ran into her uncle. 

“Your Grace,” Fenrys said, bowing. Elide curtsied a bit, murmuring his name. 

“Lord Marama, I see you’re still here.” 

“Well, yes, sir. I wouldn’t abandon my fiancée three weeks before the wedding,” he answered smoothly, slipping his arm around Elide’s waist and resting a somewhat possessive hand on her hip. She suppressed the shiver, shuddering for all the wrong reasons, even though Elide knew it was all for show.

“Of course you wouldn’t.” 

Elide nodded, nudging Fenrys towards the doors, “We’re leaving now, uncle. I hope you enjoy the party.” She grabbed the hand Fenrys had on her hip and pulled him away. 

“I doubt it,” Vernon called after the pair as Elide pushed the door open. 

Feeling Fenrys stiffen, Elide dug her white painted nails into his hand, “Leave it. He’s a senile old man.” She glanced back at him, staring him down until he nodded, the muscle in his jaw clenching. “Hey.” Elide stopped short, gripping his chin, “Fenrys, I have lived with him my entire life. You have known him for a week and a half. Don’t, for a single second, think you know what is best for me and how I should handle my abuser.” His eyes broke and she softened, “Fen, I know you have a good heart and that you want to protect me and I-I love that. Really. But, please, don’t try to do what only I can do for me.”  

He nodded, his full lips quirking up at the corners, “Yes, ma’am.” 

Elide clicked her tongue, “Come on, we have a garden party to host.” They walked powerfully to the entrance of the gardens. Before they turned the hedge that would put them in full view of the guests they could hear chatting lively, Elide paused. 

“Hey,” Fenrys said, his brows - lightened to match his hair - furrowed, “are you alright?” 

“Mm-hmm,” she replied, closing her eyes for a second. “Just need a second. I’m fine.” 

The blonde man nodded and slid his hands into his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels as he waited. A few silent moments later, Elide plastered on a cheery smile that he cringed at, “For fuck’s sake, that’s so scary.” He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, pasting on an equally jarring grin, “Ready, honeybunch?” 

“Let’s knock ‘em dead, sweetie-pie,” Elide chirped, giggling like she had gone mad. Fenrys held out his elbow again, graciously leading her around the bend. 

Someone announced them and they spent what seemed like an eternity smiling, waving, and thanking people for coming. Elide’s cheeks were burning from the strain of her beam when they had finally wrapped up the greetings. 

“Drink?” 

Turning to the bright voice, Elide sighed in relief to see Lysandra there. Aelin and Rowan were standing a few metres off, speaking to some elderly couple - no doubt royals of some kind. “Yes, gods, please,” she said, taking the champagne from Lysandra's hand. She had the grace to not chug it like she wanted to and sipped politely. 

A server passed by with a tray of smoked salmon and cream cheese cracker bites. Elide took one, about to pop it in her mouth when Aelin and Rowan walked over. A flurry of something caught her eye and she peeked around Fenrys and Rowan to see who it was. “Oh, he did not just do that,” Elide cursed, narrowing her slender eyes. 

“Who,” Aelin said, turning to track her cousin’s gaze. When she saw Lorcan standing at the entrance, she figured that was the only thing to set her off. But then a pale skinned, pale haired, and pale eyed woman stepped out from the shadow of his broad frame and Aelin went red in the face. “Remelle? He brought Remelle?”

The boys coughed, quick to turn and stare. Lorcan caught their gazes and sent them a pained look, subtly indicating Maeve, who was standing at a table with a smug look on her face. “Oh, well, that makes more sense,” Fenrys muttered, nudging Rowan, who nodded in agreement. 

Lysandra frowned, scrolling through her iPad. The woman never went anywhere without it, “Maeve… did not tell me who Lorcan’s date was. And I made sure everyone knew who was not permitted and Miss DuBois is–” 

“Lys, please, don’t worry about it,” Aelin assured her dear friend. “It’s not your fault, you’ve done an exceptional job, as usual. It’s just… Maeve being Maeve.” Lysandra nodded, but quickly excused herself. As she left, they all heard her speaking tersely into her earpiece, wanting to know who exactly had been at the entrance when they arrived. All security details were required to know the guestlist. 

When Remelle looked their way, Rowan quickly turned away, his skin crawling as he felt her predatory stare burn into the back of his neck. The king consort twined his fingers through the queen’s, tilting his head to the side, “I’m sure there are more stuffy lords we haven’t said hello to yet. Let’s go do that now.” 

Aelin nodded, flashing him her signature golden smile, “Of course.” She looked at Elide, who was still glaring at Lorcan, who was smiling back at her. To the untrained eye, it would look like a smirk, but Aelin knew Lorcan a bit better than that. His eyes sparkled with delight and affection. 

She glanced at Fenrys, sharing a look with him. Have fun with… that. 

He rolled his eyes, shooing her away, “Go, enjoy yourselves, kiss a bunch of old white guy ass for me.” 

“Oh, I will, I know it’s your favourite, Fenny,” Aelin quipped. With a flourish, she marched off, pulling a somewhat reluctant Rowan behind her. 

+*+*+*+*+*+* 

Hellas, she looks amazing. 

“There’s the little cripple girl,” Remelle said, waving her fingers vaguely. 

Lorcan rounded on her, pulling his attention away from Elide, “Excuse me? Don’t say shit like that, what is wrong with you?”

“Oh, testy, aren’t we,” she purred, reaching a slender hand up to tweak something about his hair. He moved, his reaction swifter than her motion. Remelle rolled her icy blue eyes, huffing slightly and looking down at her sharp nails, “Are you still anal about your hair? It’s just hair.” 

He didn’t even deign to respond to her, knowing she would never get it through her dense skull. Must be all the bleach damage, Lorcan thought to himself. There was no way someone’s hair could be that white, naturally, at her age. “I need a fucking drink,” he muttered, not bothering to see if Remelle wanted anything before stalking off to the bar. 

His aunt was waiting for him there and Lorcan pointedly ignored her as he ordered a whiskey sour. “Lorcan,” she hissed, his name sounding like a curse on her tongue, “why aren’t you with your date?” 

“Because she’s an unbearable cunt of a human being,” he grumbled, thanking the bartender and digging out a green twenty for the tip. He had worked shit jobs like serving and knew how stingy the one percent was. “Thanks, man.” 

“You’re welcome, sir,” the bartender said, smoothly putting the tip in his pocket and turning to the next guest. 

Lorcan took his drink, taking a long sip before addressing his aunt, “Maeve, what do you want?” 

Her dark, creepily dark, eyes flashed dangerously, “Boy, get yourself in line. She came here as a favour, got it?” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Lorcan saluted her sarcastically, his gaze jumping over her head when a vision dressed in gentle green caught it. Elide glared at him, pointing with her closed fan to a path in the hedges. This would be fun. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have more pressing matters at hand, auntie.” 

He stepped around her, striding through the partygoers to Elide. “And to what do I owe the pleasure for this?”

Elide glared up at him, actually having to tilt her head back to even look him in the eye. It was cute, even if the glare was murderous. Elide turned neatly, walking angrily into the path. Lorcan followed, biting back his smile. “Are you going to murder me, sweetheart?” 

No answer. They came to a fork in the road and Elide turned left, leading him to an opening with a bubbling fountain. There, she whirled, “You brought Remelle as your date?!” 

“Why, yes. She’s a fine young lady,” he said, delighting in the way he was able to provoke her so easily. 

“She’s a heinous bitch,” Elide spat, beginning to pace back and forth. 

“Why do you care who I bring as my date?” 

She paused, deciding to step onto the stone lip of the fountain. There, now she was almost eye-level with him, “I don’t.” 

Lorcan raised his brows, looking at her in disbelief, “Seems that way.” 

“Well, you seem to care a lot about my relationship, it’s only fair that I care that much about yours.” 

He scoffed, draining his drink and putting the empty glass down on the edge of a bird bath. “Your relationship with Fenrys is no more real than mine with Remelle.” 

The fan caught between her hands was gripped so tightly Elide’s knuckles were white. Still, her voice was calm, collected, “Fen told me you were friends. I was surprised.” 

He looked at her suspiciously, willing himself not to look at her lips and hold her gaze, “Is there a reason for your surprise?” 

“Well, it seems to me that if he were your friend, you would support it. You know,” she shrugged, her smile saccharine sweet, “for his happiness.” 

Cool anger flowed through his veins and he didn’t bother thinking before he spat words he might’ve come to regret, “You couldn’t make Fenrys happy if you were married to him for a hundred years. I told you already, he will never love you.” Elide would never love Fenrys either, but Lorcan didn’t bother telling her what she no doubt already knew. 

In her eyes shone hurt that was quickly replaced with heated rage. Elide hit his shoulder with her fan, “I loathe you.” Her face was centimetres from his, he could smell the intoxicating scent of her elderberry and cinnamon perfume. The delicate and spiced fragrance had haunted him for weeks now. 

“Well, I loathe you,” Lorcan murmured, the tone too low and too enticing for it to be anything but a bedroom voice, "sweetheart."

Elide’s breath hitched and in that moment, Lorcan would’ve done anything she commanded of him to make her do it again and again and again. Her eyes flicked to his lips before dancing back up to his. Neither knew who moved first and neither cared as Elide’s arms slid around his neck and Lorcan’s slipped around her waist. 

The kiss was hungry and biting, but a perfect harmony anyways. She tasted like champagne. Lorcan swore he could get drunk off her embrace as Elide nipped his lip, her tongue flicking over the small sting to soothe it. 

Lorcan pulled her closer, craving the feelings of her feminine curves and softness against his harsh contours and planes. She sighed delicately, melting into his hold before she realised what they were doing and tried to push herself away. 

Only, on the ledge, Elide didn’t have anywhere to go and she fell backwards, not relinquishing her hold on his charcoal suit. Lorcan was pulled into the fountain with her, their clothes and hair instantly sopping wet. 

“You kissed me! You- you can’t go around kissing engaged people, Lorcan. Do you have any sense at all,” Elide whispered harshly at him, quickly standing to climb out. He went to stand up, but Elide pushed him back down again, her hands on his chest. “You’re just trying to make me like you so that I won’t marry Fen and you’ll get the throne! You- oh, you’re evil.”

With an indignant huff, Elide Lochan marched off, throwing him one last glare as she turned the corner and disappeared from his sight. 

Lorcan was so, so, so fucked. 

+*+*+*+*+*+* 

Elide kept her head high as she walked back to the palace. She managed to avoid the garden party, but caught Rowan slinking around the bushes, no doubt trying to avoid a certain someone.

“Elide?” 

The delicate fabric of her dress clung to her skin and she shivered despite the warm sun. Elide nodded, waving vaguely as she passed him. He scrambled after her. “Ellie, do I want to know what happened?” 

“He happened,” she snapped, picking up her pace. A quick glance down told her that her dress was indeed rather transparent. Elide swore, crossing her arms over her chest. Rowan quickly shucked off his suit jacket, draping the large garment over her tiny frame. 

“That doesn’t sound good.” 

“Well, it’s not.” Elide closed her eyes, trying to calm herself. All she could think about was the kiss and how she had never felt anything like it. An unwarranted thought of if and when he would kiss her again popped up in her mind. Elide shook her head, desperate to forget about it. “It’s nothing. We just fought again and ended up in the fountain.” 

He held in his snort and they arrived at the side doors. Rowan opened it for the woman, letting her pass before he shot a suspicious glance around them and closed it. They didn’t need any more media attention and certainly not with Remelle in the vicinity. “Good thing that Aelin is wrapping the party up now. You can go warm up and hide out in your room.” 

Elide flashed him a grateful smile and slinked off to a hidden stairwell. It used to be used solely by servants and the staff, but now it was used by anyone who wanted a discreet escape to the private wings. 

Rowan smiled at her as well, keeping the pleasant look on his face until she had disappeared from view. Then, he let it fall, gritting his teeth as he seethed. It seemed that he needed to have another little chat with Lorcan. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“El?” The door of her bedroom burst open and Fenrys appeared, looking concerned. It didn’t fade when his eyes fell on her curled up in a nest of blankets. A cup of tea sat on her nightstand, steam wafting from it. “I just saw Lorcan, are you ok?” 

“‘m fine,” she muttered, turning her eyes back to the show she was watching. “Just cold.” 

Fenrys smiled, “Mind if I join you?” Elide grinned, scooching over slightly. The dark skinned man made quick work of divesting himself of his shoes, jacket, and tie. He popped a couple buttons open, sighing as he flopped down next to her. “What, I don’t get any blanket?” 

Elide rolled her eyes and flipped a few of them back so he could cuddle under them. Fenrys wrapped his arms around her, “You’re freezing, El.” 

“I know,” she chattered, her teeth still clicking together. “The chef said she’d make me something warm to eat.” Elide leeched Fenrys’ body heat away, burrowing herself deeper into the mattress. After a few minutes, the warmth made her drowsy and Elide slowly drifted off. 

 +*+*+*+*+*+*

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

“Hello, Rowan. Lovely party that was,” Lorcan replied evenly. He glanced in the mirror. Rowan was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, his jaw set and ticking. “Can I help you with something?” 

“What are you doing to her?” 

There was no reason for him to say who he was talking about, they were both well aware. “I’m not doing anything to her.” 

“You drive her fucking crazy, Lorcan,” Rowan said, moving out of the way when Lorcan stalked out of the toilet. 

“And?” 

Rowan sighed, shaking his head. “Lorcan. Just- fuck. What is going on with you two?” 

“Nothing is going on with me and Elide,” Lorcan answered, pulling on a hoodie. It might’ve even been one of Rowan’s, he wasn’t sure. 

“You told me you would never lie to me. Don’t you dare start now.” 

Sitting down on the edge of his bed, Lorcan looked up at Rowan, but all he could see was Elide’s face the second before they kissed. “Ro…” He gestured vaguely with his hands, unable to articulate his swirling thoughts. “It’s just what it is. I can’t explain. We’re just- someone is pushing us together, I can’t stop it.” I don’t want to stop it.

“Oh,” Rowan breathed, his stark green eyes wide like saucers. His mouth dropped open and he gaped at Lorcan, blinking once in shock. “Oh. Oh.” 

“What,” Lorcan snapped, his hackles rising. He had a premonition that he knew what Rowan was going to say. “Spit it out, bastard.” 

“You’re falling for her.” 

“No, I am not.” 

“Yes, you are.” 

Lorcan just fell back on the mattress, looking up at the ceiling. He sighed, his voice completely unconvincing, a little dreamy, even, “No, I am not.” 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Elide slinked into the kitchens, smiling thankfully at the chef who passed her a bowl of xaimoko, a Blackbeak rabbit stew. It was her favourite comfort food. She remembered once, when she was young, after being disciplined by her uncle, the old cook, a kind woman, had found her hiding in a corner. She had spoken in Blackbeak to Elide, coaxing her to the kitchen for a nice dinner. Vernon had ordered that she wasn’t to have dinner, but the cook had served her a bowl of rabbit stew and fried cornbread anyway.

Ever since then, the cook, who had retired a couple years after, had made sure every chef in the castle knew how to make it. 

Elide ate as slowly as possible. Lysandra had texted her, telling Elide that Aelin wanted to see her after she had eaten dinner. After her nap, Elide had spent her time avoiding Aelin but it had seemed like her luck had run out. 

She washed her own dishes, stowing them away in the cupboards. Gaze downcast, Elide made her way to Aelin’s temporary office, just set up for her time in Perranth before she and Rowan returned to Orynth. 

Elide knocked reluctantly on the door, wishing Rowan or at least Fenrys were with her. The meeting was only to be with Aelin, though, so she wasn’t hopeful. 

“Come in,” the queen called, her voice muffled through the heavy doors. 

Elide pushed the door open, softly closing it behind her. Aelin’s face was set, her lips tightening as she folded her hands atop her desk. “Elide. Sit, please.” She glanced at Lysandra who was sitting in the other chair. 

She felt like a schoolgirl in trouble with the principal. Elide sunk down in a chair, keeping her gaze down. 

“Elide,” Aelin sighed, clearly not happy with her cousin. “What is happening with you?” 

Elide shook her head, looking down at her hands, “Nothing.” 

“That’s not true.” 

She nodded, “Yes it is. Nothing is happening with me.” Elide finally dragged her eyes up to Aelin’s. “I’m fine.” 

The blonde sighed, drumming her fingers on the desk, “Elide. I know we aren’t the most traditional country and you have more liberties than most, but you can’t do stuff like this.” 

“Stuff like what?” Her voice cracked and her bottom lip trembled. “I’m not doing anything.” 

“Elide, you are engaged. You can’t hide in closets with people who are not your betrothed and you cannot climb out of a fountain, dripping wet, with the same person who is not your betrothed!” 

“Aelin, why don’t we–” 

“No, Lysandra. Elide is not some high school girl, who gets to run around doing whatever she wishes! She is a royal and is expected to act like one.” 

Elide flinched, shrinking back at the volume and sharpness, “I’m sorry.” If Aelin had noticed how Elide reacted, she would’ve stopped immediately, but the stress of battling parliament and the media were wearing on her. “I didn’t mean–”

“Yeah, I know, you didn’t mean to.” Aelin’s hands dove into her hair, gripping the strands on either side of her head. She laughed humorlessly, the sound icy and hollow. “I am trying to save your crown, do you get that, Elide?” 

Elide stayed silent, willing her body to keep her tears to herself. Unconsciously, she started scratching a nail up and down her forearm, over and over and over until blood was drawn. It was a habit she had picked up as a child and years of therapy hadn’t undone it. 

However, Lysandra noticed and she reached over to take Elide’s hand subtly enough so that Aelin didn’t see.

“I’m sorry.”

Aelin looked at her for a moment and glanced away, “Just tighten up, Elide. You can’t afford to be doing things you don’t mean and if you think you can… you might as well give Lorcan the crown already.” 

“Can I go now?” Elide asked, her voice trembling. In shock, Aelin’s eyes snapped back to her, as if realising the memories she had resurfaced for Elide. Lysandra held a hand out to Elide, but Elide moved so Lysandra’s touch fell short.

“Ellie–” 

Elide stood up abruptly, “If there isn’t anything else you have to say, can I go, your Majesty?” 

Aelin nodded meekly and Elide left. The halls were empty and because of it, Elide ran back to her rooms, locking the doors behind her. She managed to keep from letting the tears fall until she was in her bedroom. 

Bear looked up at her from her bed as Elide crawled into hers. The dog stared at her for a moment, laying unmoving. Elide wiped her cheeks, chuckling tearfully, “Oh, are you mad at me too?” 

Bear just turned her head, tucking her nose beneath her tail.

Elide felt her heart crack in two and cried harder, hiccuping as she buried her face into her pillow. In the darkness of her room, Elide slowly cried until she had exhausted herself into a deep sleep.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

an: omg !! royal scandal sksksks !! 

@mythicaitt @tinywolfofeyllwe @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @empire-of-wildfire @ladyverena @ttakeitbacknoww @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse  @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou @cursebreaker29 @empress-ofbloodshed​ @b00kworm @hizqueen4life @silversprings98 @amren-courtofdreams @minaidss @superspiritfestival @sanakapoor @ireallyshouldsleeprn @spyofthenightcourt @januarystears @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @magicalunicorngypsy @elriel4life @sensitiveillyrian

#knowing me knowing you #kmky chapter eight #princess diaries au #elorcan #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #isa writes #nalgenewhore #woowwwww would ya look at that. kissing. that's cray cray !

[todoshotoki]

𝙋𝘼𝙄𝙍𝙄𝙉𝙂: todoroki shoto x reader

𝙏𝙍𝙄𝙂𝙂𝙀𝙍 𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂: mentions of anxiety, anxiety attacks, mentions of past abuse, thoughts of suicide

𝙎𝙐𝙈𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙔: where your sweet sixteen isn’t as sweet as you thought it’d be

𝙒𝙊𝙍𝘿 𝘾𝙊𝙐𝙉𝙏: 2.6K

𝘼𝙐𝙏𝙃𝙊𝙍'𝙎 𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙀: these are my raw emotions from last night and i wrote this to cope. these situations are very much real to me and what happened to me the day before posting this so please be kind about it. i’m still trying to recover.

you were turning sixteen. the day you had been anticipating had finally come and you could barely sleep the night before.

your parents had offered your boyfriend, shoto todoroki, to accompany you for breakfast to celebrate your birthday. he, of course, accepted and pushed everything else that he had to attend to on that morning for you.

you got up early, dancing and skipping around your dorm room while picking out clothes. you had clothes you had never worn since you bought them and you were ready to show the world that you had been confident enough to wear them. you were humming while doing your makeup when three knocks were heard from your door.

you stop contouring your cheeks to get the door. your lover was standing at your door with a small bag in hand, presumably a gift. “happy birthday, (y/n),” he pecks you on the cheek and pulls you into a hug.

“thank you, sho, you’re so sweet,” this makes the boy’s eyes light up as he had passed the gift onto you. you had known how much he was trying to be more openly emotional so little phrases like that were sure to make him happy. “should i open it now or later?” you ask him, sitting back down at your vanity.

“you can open it now if you want. i personally think it would go well with what you’re wearing.” he says, giving you a hint as to what it could possibly be. you spare him a smile before unraveling the decorative paper to take out a black small box with a red and white bow on it.

you grinned at the little detail and untied the bow. you lifted the lid of the box with a gasp and took out the expensive earrings you and shoto had seen while window shopping in shibuya a few weeks back. he remembered you looking at it and wanting to buy it but taking a glance at the price and turning away almost immediately.

“you didn’t!” you swoon over the accessory, holding it up in the air. a subtle smile curled up on shoto’s lips as he saw you try them on. and they did in fact match what you wearing. you turn to him and give him yet another hug which was just as warm as the first, “thank you so much!”

“anything for you, baby,” his grin becoming wider, completely feeding off the praise you were giving him. “i’ll finish my makeup and we’ll be out of here, hold on,” you spin back around to look at the mirror.

the two of you soon head out the door to the common room. it was still rather early so only the early birds were up. “(y/n)-chan, hey! happy birthday!” izuku waves to you from his place on the couch next to tenya. “yes, happy birthday, (y/n)! i hope you two have fun and stay safe!” tenya calls right afterward. “thanks, you guys!” you call back before stepping into the elevator with your boyfriend.

“are you as excited as i am?” you ask shoto, rocking your body from your toes to your heels as the doors close. “more like nervous,” he sighs, scratching the back of his neck. “don’t worry, you’ll be fine! they loved you the first time and they’ll definitely still like you this time.”

you two walk out to the more populated areas in musutafu. you were meeting up at an american style diner and shouto had a bad of picky eating so you had chosen here on purpose. at first, he wanted whine and protest but you had brought up the point that “if you two were going to be dating then he couldn’t just live off of soba.”

once you had spotted your parents, you caught on quickly to the fact that they didn’t bring anything as a present. you ignored it, maybe it would show up later...

“(y/n)! shoto-kun! you’re finally here.” your mother clasped her hands in excitement. your parents were seated at a booth and the waiter must have did her round and asked if they wanted any drinks so there were two glasses of water in front of you.

“hi, mom! hi, dad!” you sat down closest to the window while shoo bowed in greetings to your parents before sitting down.

your parents continued to make small talk varying between the food and your school life. the whole time you were smiling, this year was so much different from the others.

your parents weren’t huge fans of celebrating birthdays and often treated them like normal days besides a gift so going out today was definitely a change of atmosphere.

“americans eat a lot, no wonder, (y/n) picked this place.” this remark from your mother made your smile falter a little bit but not too noticeably as you fiddled with your straw. shoto had scowled at the woman, but calmed down and started a conversation just between you and him.

once you all had finished eating, your dad got up and said, “well, i’m going back to work,” your raise an eyebrow, “already?” your smile almost faded this time. “i have to go run errands as well,” your mother says trailing behind your dad to head to her car.

“but-” you cut yourself short, sighing a bit to yourself, you were planning to take pictures with all three of them but your parents just rushed to disappear from this event completely. they hadn’t even thought to buy you a birthday present.

“don’t be upset, i’m here,” shoto caresses your cheeks knowingly, “we can go shopping if you’d like?” you shake your head at this. “it’s okay, sho,” your eyes dart away from his gaze of white and blue, “i’m not going to let it get to me. plus you have spent way too much money.” you say referring to the earrings that were dangling at the side of your cheeks.

“well, i could always use my dad’s card,” he wiggles his eyebrows uncharacteristically making you chuckle and hit him playfully. “pfft- no! let’s go back to the dorms.” he caved in, muttering some nonsense about wanting to make his father bankrupt which you just shake your head to.

you walked to the train station and took the first train back to u.a. amidst the train ride, you had gotten a message. it was one of many. it was an unsaved number and you assumed that it was was one of your old friends from middle school or something. you opened up the chat log.

the texts and calls all day had made you happy. people actually cared about you?

you checked the suggested name and your heart sunk so low in your stomach that you swore you were suddenly falling. you felt your blood begin to pump in your ears.

you felt a hand on your’s to which you flinched to. “hey, what is it?” shoto whispers, massaging your hand with his thumb, he didn’t want to peer at your phone for the sake of privacy. you just shook your head and shut off your phone. with trembling fingers and jagged breathing, you had put the phone in your bag.

you were not okay.

you were definitely not okay.

how could they do that to you? how could they do that so easily?

“i’ll be fine shoto, there’s nothing to worry about,” the use of his full name and the harshness in it made him looked like he had been kicked. his gaze almost made you want to crumble. it made your heart sink further and further and your nerves started to flare up again.

how could you possibly explain this to shoto?

oh, my abusive ex, just wished me happy birthday so i’m flipping out even though i haven’t seen them in two years and i still haven't recovered cause i haven't been treated or medicated for the trauma because my parents refuse to???

yeah right.

you became nauseous as the train movement was pushing you to the edge. everything they had done to you was manifesting once again and the shock was slowly spreading and decaying each and every one of your abilities to function. 

your muscles in your face felt heavy. you were aware every ounce in your body and how much effort it took to lug it around.

you were supposed to be happy today. it was your day.

what seemed to be something had just turned into nothing in the matter of moments. who knew a two letter phrase could fuck you up so easily.

you talked a lot with shoto for the remainder of the time left. you held his hand but you couldn’t feel your fingers, the buzzing of disassociating completely was crawling up on you and you wanted nothing but to scream.

it’s okay. you still got the cake, right? everyone in class 1a would love to share cake with you and shoto. you haven’t had a celebration with cake in so long that it became your only hope at this point.

but a part of you knew that this was another way of your brain coping with the stress. nobody had bought the cake for you. nobody had bough the candles for you. nobody had noticed it was your birthday until you took the initiative to tell them the day before. you were all doing this because nobody actually ca-

don’t think about that.

it was your birthday.

you were happy. you were happy.

your forced a smile on your lips as you trudged along the sidewalk to the dorms. everything was so heavy. you set it aside as the lack of sleep you were getting. you had to put more concealer under your eyelids this morning to cover up the dark circles.

it was that it was definitely that.

...

as the day drew to a close, you were still in your room from when you arrived at noon. you sat in your bed alone. you couldn’t bring the courage to ask your classmates to join you anymore.

you had kicked your sheets off your bed, blasting the air conditioning and sat upright to just feel something. 

you wanted to tear your skin a part, you wanted to shred every emotion you felt right now into shreds. the pulsating agony of the thoughts that nobody cared just triggered tears to well up in your eyes.

the stupid birthday cake.

you had built a realty that you wanted to come true but it was always to good to be true for you, wasn't it?

yes, you had gotten birthday wishes but your parents seemed like everything to you. they criticized and nagged you for things you took pride and joy in. they told you over and over that you were eating too much, too little, talking too loud, too much.

everything was wrong with you and if everything was wrong with you then they were all pretending.

they didn’t care. they never cared.

that’s why you sat there lighting your own dumb ass store bought cake with cheap ass flavorless frosting and spongy cake batter.

what were you trying to prove to yourself?

were you trying to prove that you were mentally stable? that you had people in your corner? let me tell you that was delusional thinking.

crying yourself to sleep on your birthday wasn’t something that you had thought would happen. it was supposed to be special. it was supposed to be different.

it was the first year where you thought you had friends and you weren’t being yelled at and hurt but even then nothing had changed. the ghost of trauma still loomed over your head.

nobody believed you, nobody would ever believe you, you had no bruises to show for it, no broken bones, just a twisted up mentality.

“sho...,” you whimper as the shivering wouldn’t ever stop. you felt your eyes well up in tears and just let them silently cascade down your face.

they looked so disinterested. they all could care less.

a few knocks at your door. “hey, (y/n)?” you heard softly at your door. it was izuku.

you didn’t want to answer. you bit down on your lip so the sobs wouldn’t start up again. it soon became almost too much as your chest tightened.

you covered your mouth as more and more tears streamed down your face and your body failed to take oxygen into your lungs.

maybe dying wasn’t that bad?

fuck, you were being so overdramatic.

“(y/n), we know you’re there...” another voice calls from your door. this time it was ochako. you still didn’t want to answer.

“just leave me alone,” you gasp out to yourself since you highly doubted that they would be able to hear you.

it hurt so bad being so alone. 

no matter how much time you spent. no matter how much love and affection was thrown your way it all seemed so fake.

another voice, “c’mon, (y/n), if you won’t answer them. can you answer me?” it couldn’t be other than your boyfriend’s. this made you feel torn between just sitting here and going to the door.

your feet carried you to the door. only shoto stood there now looking at the ruined makeup on your cheeks. “baby...” his soft voice was all it took for you to start ugly crying.

sobs and wails escape your lips and he close the door behind him, hushing you as he takes you into his arms. “you’re okay, it’s going to be okay.” he leads you to your bed and helps you lay down next to him.

between the combing through your hair with his fingers and the kisses that he left on your forehead, your anxiety soon slowed.

“listen to me, okay? whatever you’re thinking right now and whatever you’re doubting right now is all untrue. everyone loves you and even if some things didn’t work out, there’s always a next time, remember?” he hums, transferring some of his quirk to his fingertips to ground you a little bit more than just the sheets underneath you two.

“i’ll be okay, right?” you mumble, moving your ear to his beating heart.

“yes, of course, you will. we all have got you.” he hugs you a bit tighter for a moment, “it’s okay to cry. you’ve been through a lot. those feelings are valid and you will be able to conquer them eventually with one step at a time.”

you both laid their in silence intertwined. you inhaled the smell of peppermint from his shirt and finally said something.

“can i tell you something?” you ask him lowly. you could already feel the burning in your throat. “anything you want, sweetheart,” he nods. “well- um- i was mistreated... badly in the past.” you felt your voice start to fade with the words. you cleared your throat and punched your chest to get that choking feeling out.

“i don’t like saying it was this bad out loud because it sounds so stupid but i was manipulated and...” you trailed off into tears as your crying started up again. you felt his body run cold for a moment but he quickly recovered. “it’s okay, it’s okay, don’t worry... you don’t have to explain anything to me right now.”

you nod and sniffle, “okay... then i would like to tell you later,”

“alright, remember, i’m right here and i’ll never leave,” he hums, wiping away your tears, “rikido made a cake for you, do you still want to celebrate?”

this made a smile manifest on your lips, “of course!”

#Shoto #todoroki shouto #shoto todoroki #Shouto #oneshot #bnha angst #mha todoroki #todoroki angst #todoroki x reader #todoroki #todoroki shoto x reader #my hero academia #my hero academia fanfic #boku no academia #boku no hero fanfic #boku no hero academia fanfiction

[buccigang-headcanons]

La Squadra Backstories!!!! Stream of consciousnesss style!

So literally I just sat down and wrote down exactly what I thought. I have not edited these at all lmaooo. But I made long drawn out backstories for our underrated assassins so enjoy!!

T/W + C/W - idk I talk about people dying in a lot of ways. Child abuse, drugs, severe illness, dead cats. This stuff is a mess I really didn’t censor it. But nothing is described in detail cuz I’m too lazy for that.

————

Prosciutto cuz he’s at the top of my mind. Mmkay he and Pesci are brothers but not by blood. Pro was an orphan, I still wanna make him Russian, and pesci’s extremely kind and gentle family adopted him when he was like 7. They were like literally a garden catalogue family. Perfection. The parents died when pro was like 15, Pesci was 13?? Idk the age difference I’m just making shit up now. And Pesci had no fucking idea what to do, they didn’t have any other family, and pro was like “I’m still basically a hardened criminal from living on the streets of russia most of my childhood, so joining the local mafia should be a piece of cake”. It was.

Risotto..... fuck it. Polpo is risottos dad. I’ve seen that so much and fuck it I’m here for it now. Idk how I feel about the whole Mariah from part 3 being his mom that seems too coincidental. But either way, he is half Spanish. I don’t think he’s ever been in touch with his Spanish roots at all, but that’s what he is. Polpo had too much fun on vacay in Spain. But it was a once night stand and polpo, a skinny king back in the mid 70s, fucked off to do mafia stuff and didn’t know about this kid. Risotto never knew his father. Time goes by, about the time he’s 10, rizzo’s mom moves to Italy to find the man she once loved. Since the 70s, she has been married and divorced 4 times, disowned by her entire family, and she speaks only of Polpo, the man who swept her off her feet and then disappeared into the night. Leaving only this child with his matching eyes. So they live in Italy, risotto is about 13 now and his mom has been searching seriously for polpo for about 3 years. One day, she gets too close, mafia takes her out. Risotto is all alone in a country he has lived in for less than 3 years. So he decides to take revenge against the mafia. He goes to hunt them down. (I’m too lazy to write out how. Gets a gun. Basically the scene in part 5 where the kid is like “you killed my father and now I’m gonna kill you!!” But he chickens out???) yeah except rizzo didn’t chicken out, he stood firm and killed 2 of them. The other 2 surrendered, and immediately asked rizzo to take polpos test. He did. And he unknowingly met his father, the man his mother had died looking for. He stared into his fathers eyes, black sclera reflecting each other, and passed his test with ease.

Wowwwwwwwww alrighty then that was something. Let’s shake out those jitters because fuck that was intense and let’s move onto some happy shit.

Melone!! Always a bottle of joy. He was a phenomenal student, a perfect child. Perfect grades, perfect attitude, perfect looks. Onlyyyy tiny thing is he murdered cats and buried their heads in the back yard. But that was his only flaw. Aaaaaaaand mayyybe trying to use his extensive knowledge of molecular biology and genetics (even at as young as 11) to asexually breed said cats.

But, apart from that, absolutely perfect specimen of a young boy. And he kept that up until college. Until the rape accusation. Melone had no interest in having sex with her, he swore under oath in open court, he only wanted to “extract her essence” in the hopes of making her amazing genetics stay pure for centuries.

Due to his previously amazing school record, he was allowed to plead not guilty by reason of insanity (because the justice system is bullshit) and was released to his parents. During this whole process, Melone’s mother had begun to grow suspicious of her son, wondering if there was something wrong with him. This led her to explore the crawl space under the garage, more commonly known as “Melone’s childhood laboratory”. The cat skulls alone were enough to set her off. They allowed him into their home long enough to fool the court, but parole officers don’t pay attention, and they kicked him to the curb a month later. Broke, alone, and with no real skills other than his genius mind and gorgeous body, he became a prostitute. It was only a few months before he wandered up to a gigantic white haired man with angry eyes and asked if he wanted a date. Instead of declining, our good ol rizzo just knocked him out cold and brought him home. The rest is history. Literally because I can’t think of what would happen between that and Melone joining the mafia. I assume he was just their house pet for a little while before he decided he wanted a stand too.

Oh good lord these are getting insane. Better keep going. Okay I have no idea what’s about to come out of my head for ghia but oh Lordy. Might as well start. Ghiaccio wasn’t always quite as angry, but it’s actually gonna be a sweet story. Kinda. He used to act perfect, even tho he always felt the anger inside. He was forced to bottle it up and put on a happy exterior always. His mother was Belgian. (From experience, Belgian mothers (Flemish in particular) will beat you until your ass is raw if you talk back). Italian father, they lived in italy. He had 4 sisters, he was the middle child of 5. Around high school, he started acting out. Of course this was due to all of his bottled up anger from the past 15 years. 4 shattered sinks, 16 holes in the drywall, and one classroom fire later, Ghiaccio was expelled from school. His parents were too busy brimming with joy about the success of all his sisters that they didn’t take much notice to him. “If you’re going to behave in such a manner you might as well leave” his mother said. She was past the point of caring enough to beat him. So he left. 16 and with no where to go, he wandered the streets. After a year or so, Ghia had gotten used to that life, and was angry at everyone, sometimes when he wasn’t even angry. Anger had become his coping mechanism. Screaming was easier than talking. Until one day, he screamed at a blonde man in an intersection. Prosciutto was driving back to the squads hang out, boxes of takeout in the back seat of the car. He had chosen to not stop at the red light, just for fun, and nearly ran into our blue haired teenager. Ghia proceeded to cuss him out for a good 4 minutes in the middle of this intersection before pro cut him off. “Get in the back. “ he said, with his own special brand of brotherly love. “I know how you can put that anger to good use”. Ghiaccio, having no real reason to object, got in the back seat. Prosciutto was silent the rest of the drive and Ghiaccio yelled about all the take out food, now splattered on the backs of the seats due to the sudden slam on the brakes.

Y’all I don’t even remember the other la squadra members. Let’s do sorbet/gelato because they have zero backstory or personality so I can just ramble. *Clears throat* let’s begin. These fuckers. Friends since birth. Grew up together, always really close. They were both dirt poor, but because the only school nearby was a decent public school, when were able to slightly experience middle class living. They liked it. They wanted to see upper class, and once they did, they wanted to be there. These two were money grubbing bffs, I’m talking josuke and okuyasu, but like waaaaay more intense and also violent. They both left home around 14, together of course. Gelatos father had left them a few years prior, and his family were on the brink of starvation. Figuring they didn’t need another mouth to feed (and completely abandoning his post as family patriarch lol) he left with sorbet, who’s family had all died in various ways over the years. Most recently, his older sister being taken by some illness that was probably easily treatable, but with no means for a doctor, she died in days. The boys left home and school, and made a living by pickpocketing tourists and occasionally launching into larger heists. They made a decent living for themselves, but eventually started spending their money on drugs. It’s was sorbet first, heroin was really good to him for awhile. Gelato was against it, knowing it was the reason sorbets family had been so poor to begin with. His father was an addict, and despite holding down a job fairly well, spent all his earnings on drugs. Eventually he became too dependent, lost his job, and OD’d. But around this same time, when the boys were 16/17, they were starting to realize their feelings for each other. Confused teenaged minds full of budding love led to Gelato giving in, and soon their days were filled with heroin fueled ecstatic sex. They lived like this for awhile, existing in half reality, until one day they chose to set their pickpocketing targets on a short man with close cropped gray hair. The plan was perfect, sorbet bumped into the man and gelato passed by to grab his wallet, and suddenly they were the size of mere ants. In an instant, they were returned to size, left to wonder if it was real or just a hallucination from long term drug use. But they didn’t run. Formaggio introduced himself, with a loose handshake and a pause to spit out some tobacco, and promptly invited them to a “party”. Although, Formaggio was honest in his promise, this party did have drugs.

Cheese boys turn!! Seriously who am I forgetting??? Illuso my mirror man! Am I forgetting someone else too?? Idk. But shut up Kel it’s cheese boys turn.

So. Formaggio. Probably the most chill childhood. Lower middle class, pretty average, but he was quite gifted with sports. Soccer was his main, and also a fantastic competitive swimmer. (Okay I have a separate hc that Bruno is really good at soccer so hol horse up a moment so I can imagine those 2 playing soccer together in friendly competition. In my lil au where Bruno is in la squadra because I say BruPro exes rights please and thanks.) but anyway, he got really good at soccer and was offered a scholarship to play at a fancy pants private high school when he was 14. Of course his parents made him go, this has been the family’s dream for years, and formaggio’s as well. So high school is amazing, he’s starting to attract attention from universities even tho he’s barely in grade 11 by this point. And it’s all really amazing until he realizes. This isn’t what he wants. And it’s just that. He doesn’t want to play soccer anymore, he doesn’t want to potentially be famous. He just wants to be a kid. So he leaves school, he leaves home, he wants to start over. And he wanders into a diner and sees this small group of weirdly dressed men. At this point, it’s rizzo, pro, Pesci, and ghia. And he’s staring at them because they’re dressed like circus clowns but their aura is so murderous. And then the one who looks like a giant pineapple starts staring back. Pesci gets up and walks over to Formaggio. “I know you! You’re that amazing kid soccer player!!” And he just goes on and on about shit he read in the news (70% of it was false) until pro comes over and yanks his idiot brother away. Pro starts asking Formaggio questions, thinking he could be a good target. Stupid little rich kid. But to prosciuttos surpise, Formaggio is just a down to earth kid with no more money to his name than he needs to pay for this meal. Prosciutto takes him home after that. He doesn’t really offer any explanation.

(The rambling at the beginning of this paragraph actually happened lol so I paused for like 4 hrs oops)

Alright we are back. Had to leave to go to therapy and then scream at my mother and cry to my boyfriend but we are ready to go! Illuso and I really hope he’s the last one and I’m not forgetting one. Illuso was raised in an orphanage from infancy. No idea who his parents could even be. Fun fact: one of the nuns at the orphanage (cuz it’s an orphanage in Italy in 1980, they’re catholic.) nicknamed him Illuso because he was always pointing at things that weren’t there. As a tiny baby and a child, he would always be looking at things no one else can see (yes illuso is a natural stand user fight me). The nuns called him illuso as an insult, hoping to shame him into stopping. He never did. When he outgrew the orphanage, he decided to join the priesthood. He was 19, a priest in training, when the mafia came to the orphanage. They were collecting, and illuso knew they didn’t have the money this month. He tried to talk the mobsters down, but that went about as well as planned. 4 bullets to the chest, 3 open heart surgeries, and half a dozen resuscitations later, Illuso was released from the hospital. The orphanage had been shut down, and no one knew what had happened to the children or the nuns. With no where to go, illuso knew of one place that could use talents like his. The talents of steadily stealing money from the starving children of the church for a decade. It was during polpos test that illuso’s stand manifested. Not due to the arrow, but to protect its user from the other stand. Illuso was able to avoid Black Sabbath by hiding in his newfound mirror world until it was time to return the lighter to polpo (kinda cowardly but whatever.) he was assigned to risottos group by chance and was the last to join excluding Melone. But they loved him as if they had found him themselves.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #vento aureo #golden wind #la squadra #Melone #ghiaccio #Formaggio #illuso #sorbet #gelato #risotto Nero #prosciutto #Pesci #jojo part 5 #jjba

[bxthharmon]

Never Go Home Again, Pt. XIV || JJ Maybank x Reader

Words: 2500

Series Warnings: violence / talking about abuse / toxic relationships / talking about nudes sex and sex tapes / drugs / underage drinking

Pt. Warnings: fighting / injuries / mourning

Series Summary: A new girl, a shoebox of old memories, a past she’s trying to forget coincide with a hotheaded, but selfless, boy.  teenagers getting in way over their heads

Pt. Summary: John B and Sarah escape, leaving the Pogues in the hands of the police

A/N: promise i didnt cry while i wrote this oops. tysm for all of the support and love i got from this, i appreciated every single note. tysm to all the friends o made and ppl i met by joining this fandom. ily. new fluff series tho!! and i hv another idea for a series as well :)

Chapters linked in my masterlist.

“masterlist”

JJ pushed the door, you and Kie glancing at each other in anticipation, excited to see the famous boat. He glanced back at you, similar emotions playing on his face. The boat came into view.

You felt your face drop at the anticlimax, wondering how the (no offence to JJ) unimpressive boat had caused such a stir. “Hey, girl.” JJ stroked the boat, not noticing the amused eyebrow raise he received from you. “A 1983 Formula 402 SR1.” He introduced, pulling the covers away, “The Phantom.” He looked back at you excitedly, and you nodded, humming noncommittally. “The first boat to make the run to Bermuda in under 16 hours, Y/N.” you looked at Kie, shrugged. “40 years old!” he continued, “40! And still the fastest thing Kildare’s ever seen.”

“It’s kind of a junker.” said Kie.

“Gotta say, bro,” you frowned, “As someone who’s walked through Beverly Hills, this is… pretty trashy.”

“Really, guys?” he whispered, “She’s right here. She can hear you. Let’s just put it this way, you would not be smokin’ weed right now if she never existed, okay?”

You sighed, and Kie shrugged. “I just hope it runs.”

“Oh, no, she’ll run all right. She’s faster than any of the boys in blue have got.”

You turned, confused at the sound of an engine.

“Pope! Finally.” Kie clarified.

“Yeah, what’s goin’ on with him?” you asked, and JJ rolled his eyes, a clear you don’t want to know look flashing over his face.

“Hey there. What’s going on?” 

You turned, shoulders slumping. Rafe.

“JJ? How you guys doin’?”

A whistle sounded behind you, and another guy appeared, one you didn’t recognise.

“What the fuck?” you frowned.

“Well, well…” the new man said, the three of you bunching together. You heard a gun click, and saw the man holding it to JJ’s chest.

“JJ,” you whispered, “what the fuck is going on?”

“See,” the man pressed on, “don’t think I forgot about me and you on the side of the road. I’m here, because I want my motherfuckin’ money.” He grabbed JJ’s neck, headbutting him as you and Kie jumped forwards, trying to pull them apart as Rafe pulled you both back, an arm around each of your waists.

Kie broke free, and Rafe threw you to the floor, pulling her back. You heard a slap resonate as you got to your feet, tackling whoever this other man was. He threw you away again, pointing the gun to your face. JJ was down, cradling his rib, and you gulped.

“Who the fuck are you?” you spat.

“Hey,” he laughed, “I’m Barry, your boy stole from me.”

You looked over to JJ, who swiped at Barry’s legs. Next thing you knew, Barry was holding up JJ’s face, punching repeatedly. You tried to pull him off, but he slammed you into the equipment behind. You touched your temple, feeling something sticky. You looked at your fingers, seeing the bright red of your own blood. Next thing you knew, Pope was hitting Rafe in the back with a crowbar, and the two were fighting. JJ tripped up Barry, and you kicked the gun away, kicking Barry’s face in the process. You looked around, trying to ignore the throbbing in your head as Kie tried to get Pope of Kie, and you attempted to get to your feet. You looked up, seeing your two friends stopping Pope from killing Rafe, and a choke lef your body. You doubled over, touching your temple again, blood trickling down the side of your face and onto your collarbone. 

JJ grabbed your waist, guiding you to the car, where he sat down next to you, inspecting the cut on your head. He frowned, biting his lip slightly.

“You good?” he asked, “Not concussed or anything?”

“If I am, I haven't noticed.”

--

“Dude, where is he?” Kie fretted, looking to Pope, and then down at where you were sitting in the grass.

“Give him a second, he’ll be here.” Pope assured.

“He’s comin’.” JJ said from inside the Phantom. “He’ll be fine.”

Sirens approached, and you stood up, Pope offering you an arm for support as the car stopped in front of you. Panic was coursing through the group, a sudden rush to board the boat, until you let out a laugh. “John B?”

“No way.” 

“No effing way.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Shoupe let me take it for a spin.” he joked, frowning slightly at the sight of your bloody face.

“Okay, that’s believable.” you joked, letting him hug you.

“I’ll take that, for now.” Kie laughed, pulling him in next.

“It wasn’t easy bro,” JJ piped up, “but I got the Phantom for you, and she runs like she was made yesterday. You ready to go?”

“Where’s Sarah?” he frowned.

“She’s not with you?” you asked.

“No, no. We got separated in the swamp.” he explained. “She said she was gonna meet me here.”

“We haven’t seen her.” said Pope.

“Well I’m not leaving without her.”

“John B, look at me.” JJ said, and the group’s attention turned to him, “I know you feel bad for leaving, but there’s no time, man. You’ve got plenty of gas, plenty of food. Once you get around that point, it’s a straight shot across the sound to Dismal Swamp, okay? Once you get there, lay low, alright? Hang out for a couple of weeks, then go overland, cross the border at Brownsville, you got that? Brownsville. You - hey, you got that?”

“Yeah, yeah, Brownsville.”

JJ stood, stepping across the boat, hopping off, “Alright, saddle her up, saltwater cowboy. Let’s do this. Yeah.”

“Hey, hey.” John B faced all of you, standing in a row. “I’m sorry for… basically throwing us off a cliff with this whole treasure hunt thing.”

“Hey, John B, yo…” JJ sighed, “We were bound to run off a cliff at some point, right? At least we did it together though.” he threw an arm over your shoulder, and you threw yours over Pope’s.

“Pogue style.” you joked, “Am I a pogue?”

“Yeah.” John B muttered, “You’re one of us.”

“Now get out of here, please.” Kie interrupted.

“Now.” Pope instructed. “We’ll see you in two months, down in Mexico.”

“Love you.” JJ called, the four of you watching as your friend moved around the boat.

He paused, turning back to you, “Tell Sarah I said goodbye, okay?”

Under your arm, you felt JJ’s shoulders tense slightly, “Don’t forget!” he called, “Cross the border at Brownsville!”

“Got it!”

You all stepped apart and pushed the boat away, watching the motor splutter to life and speed off. JJ’s hand slipped into yours, and you leaned back into him, closing your eyes for a brief second and inhaling the smell of the salt, pines and mint that he radiated. You and JJ moved away, letting Kie and Pope have a moment, and you nudged him when they kissed, holding back a small giggle.

“Hey, we can go on double dates.” you grinned, hearing sirens for the thousandth time that day, and, as if by instinctive, tensing as if to run, “We gotta go!”

You stepped forwards, but were immediately met with the bonnets of two police cars. You swore, looking at your three friends. You all raised your hands, observing the panic, and tensing as Shoupe yelled in your faces.

They drove you back to the field tents, and you found yourself sitting in the same seat as before, this time between JJ and Kiara. You interlocked your hand with JJ’s, feeling him rub the pad of his thumb over your hand, reassuring you that it would all be okay.

You swept your eyes over the Officers passing through the tent, a perturbing silence falling over the group. After five minutes, a paramedic came over, asking to look at the cut on your temple. You obliged, standing up and removing your hand from JJ’s, barely looking back as the paramedic took you to sit in the back of an ambulance. 

A second paramedic cleaned the cut and stitched, while the first one asked you questions to gage whether you had concussion. When they were done, the second one, a young woman, sat down next to you, looking as if she wanted to speak.

“What’s up?” you asked, glancing at her as she looked down, embarrassed.

“How are you?” she asked, “Like, emotionally.”

You looked at her again, this time noticing the concern in her dark eyes and the blush in her cheeks. “Holding up.”

“I know this is weird, and you don’t know me, but this kind of stuff has long lasting effects on your mental health.” You nodded dumbly. “Your friend, the blond boy?”

“JJ.” you whispered.

“Check up on him, okay?”

You nodded again, looking across the dark, rainy green and seeing his fuzzy silhouette in the tent. “Yeah,” you murmured, “I will.”

After a watery hot cocoa, you stepped back into the tent, watching relief play over each of the three pogues’ faces. You sat down  next to JJ, linking your fingers again and leaning your head onto his shoulder. He kissed your hairline, the simple gesture providing a moment of peace.

“Are you okay?” you asked, the question surprising him.

“I’m fine.” he assures you, unconvincingly. “Or, I will be.”

“Am I your girlfriend?” you whispered, causing him to look you in the eye.

“Yeah.” he nods, “If you want to be.”

You smiled, an unnatural feeling amidst the growing chaos, pulling your lip in with your teeth slightly, “I love you, boyfriend.”

“I love you too, girlfriend.”

You looked up, rain slamming down onto the tent as people shouted, running around. You hadn’t noticed the sudden growth of activity until then. You looked back at your friends. “Shit, what’s happening?” Kie murmured, and you looked around again, unable to work out any coherent information.

JJ was shaking next to you, and on your other side, Kiara was trying not to cry. You stood up, unable to stay in the suffocating row of seats. JJ leaned forward slightly, the loss of contact shocking him. Then, the neon coats came in. Shoupe, Bratcher, the other officers. You waited expectantly, feeling the others stand beside you.

“Did you find them?” Pope asked.

“No.” Shoupe stated, and you let out a shaky breath.

“So they got away?” Kie asked.

“We, uh…” Shoupe looked down, “We lost them.”

You swallowed, closing your eyes for a second.

Sarah, your first friend. Sarah, who invited you out to parties when you had no other friends. Sarah, who would stay up late, texting you, when you couldn’t be alone with your thoughts. And John B, always dragging you into petty dramas and persuading you to come out with the Pogues. The one who had finalised your placement in the tight-knit group.

You looked around, seeing various emotions scattered over your friends. Pope - denying. Unable to think that they might really be gone. Kiara - standing in shock, processing the idea. JJ, angry.

He was holding Shoupe by the collar, yelling, and almost by instinct, you reached for his shoulders, trying to pull him back, but knowing you weren’t strong enough. He was being pulled away.

“JJ.” you managed, your voice seeming to ground him as he softened, breaking from the loosened grip to look at you, to take in the tears that you didn’t realise were falling.

You felt aware of other people entering the tent, but you paid them no mind, pulling JJ into a hug, soft but tight, cradling him as sobs racked both of your bodies. You stood like that for a few minutes, face buried in his shoulder, him breathing in your hair. You clung to each other, the loss taking hold of you in a cruel fist, tightening around your chests second by seconds as the reality hit. There were hands on your back, soothing ones, voices in the background, asking questions, answering them, promising to see each other tomorrow.

Eventually, you stepped away.

He had an arm over your shoulder, and you had an arm around his torso as you slowly made your way down the tent, neither of your parents present. For the first time all week, you wondered what your dad was up to. You felt raindrops splattering over your face as you ambled down the soggy path to the road.

“JJ?” you broke the shocked silence. “Would you like to stay at mine tonight?”

He looked down at you, processing your words for a second. “Yeah.” he rasped the words, practically choking them out. You walked home slowly, the rain hammering you both, but neither of you able to care. You walked past the Chateau, and a fresh wave of tears shook you both. You fumbled with your keys, the torrential rain making your grip slippy as you struggled to find the right one. You unlocked the door, both of you stumbling in, hooking your coats over the radiator and then walking up the stairs, not caring about your volume. 

You undressed slowly, hanging all your clothes out in the bathroom to dry, and then finding JJ, broken and still, standing in the middle of your room. You unbuttoned the black shirt, pulling it from his shoulders and letting it drop. You helped him out of the rest of his clothes, providing a pair of joggers to him. You hung his clothes up with yours. Only then did you realise you were still just in your underwear, and pulled an oversized top over your frame, unable to place who it had belonged to before you. You sat down in the middle of your bed, legs crossed, and tugged JJ’s hand ever so slightly, the movement forcing him to look down at you. He sat down beside you, and slowly as ever, you guided him to lie down. You lay on your back beside him, staring at the ceiling as, once again, you turned the day’s events over in your head.

You looked over to JJ, who was looking away from you, taking deep breaths. He rolled, turning his back to you. In response, you rolled too, curving your body around his back, and wrapping an arm around him, resting your hand over his heart, and pressing your cheek to his spine.

As you breathed, you breathed for him. For everything you had been through, and everything you were yet to experience. You breathed, and lived, and died for him. Your heart pumped for him, for his love. You loved him, with every bone, every fiber, every cell in your body, and in that moment of pure, mutual vulnerability, you swore to yourself, I will always love this man.

You closed your eyes, savouring the feeling of your weariness, your pain, your worries sifting away. Your breathing evened with his, and you felt his heartbeat under your fingertips, the rhythm guiding you to sleep, gently and kindly welcoming you into a dreamless slumber.

Badum. Badum. Badum.

Tags: @tangledinsparkles​ @jellyfishbeansontoast​ @lolitstiana​ @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch​ @teamnick​ @thoughtsofthestars​ @obxmxybxnk​ @pcterparxer​ @kaelyn-lobrutto24​ @sxcretinhuman​ @alexa-playafricabytoto​ @angvelics​ @badwolf00593​ @coloradogirl07​ @mendesmaybank​ @jiaraendgame​ @5am-cigarette​ @emerald-xcd​ @haharudy​

#outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks fanfic #obx #obx fanfiction #obx fanfic #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n #jj x reader #jj x you #jj x y/n #john b #john b routledge #kie #kie carrera #kiara #kiara carrera #pope #pope heyward #sarah #sarah cameron

[lostonehero]

Wally is certain q-Victor at this point is going crazy, or he is uncomfortable where they are working. Its been a month of trying to find the source of the ash smell behind the church, and even with all the soil samples deep ditches, and even several rainstorms the smell persists.

"Are you sure you're ok, you keep looking behind you like something is going to get you." Wally sighs filling the hole back up. "Not everyone is out to get you even with what conspiracies you believe in."

Wally coukd barely hear the response since Victor seemed more standoffish, and small out of his hero persona. Granted the man was taller then him, he just looked like he was lost sometimes. He was also jumpy, not in the way a paranoid person was, but more like a survivor of abuse was.

"I'm not fond of churches." Victor says in a quiet voice.

Wally pauses not wanting to tempt fate asking why, but the curiosity ate away at his hesitation. "Why? Did your family make you go every Sunday?"

Victor turned around and approached Wally, and suddenly Wally felt really small and scared.

"I didn't have a family. My mom was a victim of rape and she was forced to give me up and sent away." Victor pauses seemingly unsure of what to say next. "The church I grew up in wasn't the best." He swallows and his face is a mix of sadness and fear.

Wally was taken aback, he didn't expect for Victor to tell him something that personal. He really was getting more nervous feeling like he shouldn't know this. He opens his mouth trying to think of the right words and he can't. He can only ask a question. "Want to get some food?"

.........

Victors thoughts were racing a mile a minute. Why did he tell Wally that? Why did he even feel comfortable enough to talk about himself? They were coworkers, not friends. He didn't have friends, just a aunt and a uncle who found him by accident. Why did he tell him, and why did he agree to a meal after the fact, they both stunk of ash with no idea why, and this isn't the first time Wally has asked him to eat after a day of searching. Well first he chalked it up to Wally having a very fast metabolism due to his speed, but it wasn't just food sometimes he asked to see a movie, or even watch him song in hub city.

Wally was planning something for him, and he didn't know why he was following along. It could be a trap for all he knew. Vic sighed and took another bite from his burger.

"So Vic do you have any new theories why the ash smell persist?" Wally asks breaking the silence Vic was using to stew in his own thoughts.

He looks up swallowing and just sighs. "It doesn't make any sense we have looked at every angle. Even doused the entire place with water. We know that the smell stops in a 33 feet diameter around the church, yet the church...." he stops as a uncomfortable feeling drenched him. "The church isn't even corrupt as far as I researched, they even chip in for taxes which they are exempt from."

Wally gives Victor a look. "You looked into the church?"

"I don't trust the church as a institution, nor as a separate entity." Victor growls trying to get his thoughts in order before he spoke again. "I told you I have had bad experiences with them."

Wally pauses and takes a French fry from Victor's plate and slowly munches on it. "So we are back to square one?"

Vic nods and pushes his plate away leaving his burger half finished. He didn't feel comfortable with a mystery that didn't lead anywhere even with a lot of effort. It didn't sit right with him. He looked up and watched Wally eat his food that he left. This had become common place after a long day together, he didn't know if he like that this was becoming a habit.

..........

Wally was on watchtower duty and he swore he could feel eyes on him at all times. He couldn't understand how Vic handles the rumor mill that spins just about him. Now Wally is the talk of the tower, the flash and question working together for over a month now. Everyone is treating this like a scandal.

"Wally how many times do I need to tell you to keep your elbows off the control table." A stern voice alerts Wally to the possibility that the heavy sighing wasn't his own.

"Oh Bats hey I wasn't slacking off." He gives a hearty fake laugh

Batman for all his dark persona sounded more like a disappointed dad dealing with unruly children. "Wally why have you been working with the Question? I understand the smell of ash in that area is concerning but there is no source and you shouldn't have gotten him involved."

Wally shrinks back feeling like a kid getting a lecture on why smoking is bad for you. He takes a deep breath then gives a heavy sigh. "Just because you have no information on him like you do on everyone else in the league doesn't mean he is dangerous besides I actually know his name and face." As soon as that came out of his mouth he wanted to stuff the words back in.

"You saw his face?"

"What no, you misheard Bats." Wally failed trying to lie getting the attetion of the boy scout in the room.

"You mean excuse my rudeness, that crackpot theorist. You actually saw his face Wally?" Superman came closer to the pair inserting himself into the conversation.

Wally wished he was anywhere but here at this moment. "You know what I forgot something or other.... uh bye." And he ran for his life to the cafeteria spotting Vic sitting with the three heros he seem to have befriended.

.......

"Que so is it true you've been hanging out with the flash?" Huntress smiles under her mask enjoying the new gossip around the watchtower.

Victor looked up, but nobody could tell in his mask. "Helena we are working on a case of a ask smell that lingers even after rain. I highly doubt the rumors are as scandalous as you seem to think."

Black canary didn't seem to buy this answer from what Victor could see. His eyes then trailed to Green arrow who looked like he was trying not to seem interested but he was failing at that. Vic gave a heavy sigh.

"Oh so there is more?" Helena smirks. "Spill the tea Que, I didn't know you swung for the other team."

If they could see his face they woukd see confusion. "This isn't a sports game Helena, we are coworkers."

Now all three of them were giving him a look. He didn't bring up the concept of sports into the conversation. Why were they acting like he was the crazy one?

"Que that isn't what she meant." Dinah gave a odd look. "She meant that you are into men."

"I don't understand why my homksexuality is a part of the conversation now." Vic sighs rubbing his temples. "When I asked for help on this issue I didn't think you guys would make it a conversation on my sexuality."

Victor just sighed and got up. "I appreciate the confirmation that you also smell the ash in that area, but besides that you guys aren't helping." He frowns under his mask. "I thought I was clear that I enjoyed men when I rejected your offer for a date Helena."

"I honestly just thought I wasn't your type, I guess I wasn't completely off." Helena sighs sliding a 20$ to Oliver.

Dinah mirrored the action, and Oliver just smiles. "See i can bet proper Question. By the way are we still on for sports this weekend?"

"You mean a loud argument over the game that consist of nothing but physical combat masked poorly as a popular staple of American culture to make the black market rich with gambling, then yes." Vic nods and leaves but smacks into Wally.

"Shoot sorry V-Question yeah Question I'mlateandreallyneedtogo." He speeds off leaving Victor's notes on the ground where they fell.

The three heroes behind Victor shared a look of shock when he turned to face them. It only took the beginning of another name to the Question for there faces to light up in recognition.

"YOU GAVE HIM YOUR NAME." The three shouted causing the cafeteria to erupt in loud conversation.

Victor had many things to regret now, more so half his notes are covered in a spilled soda making them useless, and he needed to find a new lead, and maybe take a break from staying in the watchtower.

........

Its been a week since that incident, Victor was in his own apartment trying to salvage his notes. He was exhausted more so then normal. Maybe it was because he hasn't been sleeping, or maybe its because his own skin feels tight from suppressing his demonic side, and not letting his other parts out. He stands up and just walks to his bed and faceplants into his bed.

He hear his window open, and he didn't really care for who came through it. "Still punishing yourself, or did you forget to release your other form again."

"Micheal get out of my apartment." Victor really did not need a visit from his uncle.

Micheal takes a feather and stabs it into Victor's back causing black horns sprout and curl like ram horns on Victor's skull along with black spines down his spine to a long black tail with a purple flame on the end, which wasn't anything to the large boney black wings that erupted from his back knocking over his lamp, and theory board creating a mess in the surprisingly spotless apartment.

"Feeling better tired eyes?" Micheal says taking out a flask. "So I actually followed up with the thing you asked me to do, and what I can tell you is." He takes a large swig of his flask. "Is that you are fucking lucky you haven't been caught."

That actually got Victor to sit up curling his wings around him like a cloak. "Caught? Micheal what are you talking about?"

"Well if you ask me there's been many angels on high alert in that area, something uh something about the realms being thin or some shit." Micheal shrugs.

Victor sighs and cringes at the smell of alcohol coming off the angel. "Why should I believe you? You're nothing but a drunkard who dwells on the past."

Micheal raises his brow and gets a crude smile on his face. "Oh my you met someone there."

"He's just a coworker from the watchtower nothing special." Victor lays back down

And the smile leaves Micheal's face. "Right well uh since I'm here want to play some chess?"

Victor glances back at the drunk, and just sighs. Micheal was a ruined man when they met, Gabriel was a much better conversationalist, and wasn't so crude. They were the closest he ever got to a family he guessed, but it still hurt that they still hid things from him like he was some sort of child who hasn't gone through ages of abuse and had to grow up fast. They only found him by accident on the street.

"Kid i can see the gears moving in your head." Micheal forces him to sit up and summons a chess board and pieces and a table to set it down on. "If I win you eat and shower, you win I'll leave."

Victor frowns, it was always the same bet with him, and he always let Micheal win. Maybe he did have a soft spot for the drunk even if he reeks. Besides he gave him some good information regarding this case. He needed to be more careful, and maybe use Wally in his place that could work better for both to solve the mystery. Thats a great idea he should inform Wally at once. When did he start calling Wally, Wally, and not the flash or coworker in his mind.

"Checkmate." Michael's voice threw Victor back into reality. "What kind of food you want kid?"

"What? Oh uh something healthy i guess." Victor hums getting lost in his thoughts again.

Micheal gave a look to the younger man full of concern and maybe a bit if hope.

.......

Micheal might be a drunk, and desperately wants to be fallen, but he still cared for his nephew. He watched Victor invest himself in a text conversation with someone he had gotten trust enough to give his name, face, and even number to. Maybe he was finally able to move foward and trust.

"So who the lucky man you're after." Micheal smiled seeing Vic sputter and hiss his wings spreading out in protest embarrassment.

"He is a coworker we've been looking at that area you keep telling me is off limits, so Wally investigates and I take the the research." Vic huffs and looks away.

Micheal knew he was only one of the few who was close enough to Victor to get him to feel safe enough to get riled up. However this new man in the picture has got Victor to keep a stupid smile on his face. He knows its been about a week since his last visit, but Victor looks healthier, well he looks like he has been eating better. Without the benefit of his inhuman nature he would be skin and bone.

Micheal sighs to himself taking another drink, his thoughts drifting to the boys mother his sister. He still hasn't even told him who his mother is, does this make him bad? Probably. But when Victor told them both that he was forced to watch the tapes of his mom being violated and giving birth, that alone made his blood boil. So they look after Victor, they may of found him a bit too late but hey better then nothing.

"What no witty retort? You seem off today Micheal, you've been staring at your flask more then drinking it." Victor frowns taking the empty plates and cleaning them.

Micheal sighs. "This place looks too clean Victor, its like you don't even live here." He looks back towards Victor who has a frown on his face.

"Are you actually worried that I'm looking into the ash place?"

Micheal wasn't expecting that question, nor the quiet meek tone Victor used when asking. "Well yeah everybody up in the clouds is freaking out about it. I just don't want to see you in the crossfire. A human like your so called coworker wouldn't matter to them. You being well mostly demon however would." Micheal grimaced his flask is empty. He could just refill it but he didn't have the energy today.

Micheal watched Victor pause drying off the dishes. "Should I thank you for caring?"

Micheal shakes his head "nah I'm just trying to be your guardian angel" he gives a crude smile making Victor give a small one in return.

Thats all he needed before he headed to another bar for the night. "Goodnight kid"

Victor just waved him goodbye and shut the window closed behind him.

#victor sage #vic sage #the question #question #the flash #wally west #dcau #dc comic #dc #superman #batman #green arrow #black canary #huntress #long post

[frischkasekuchen]

Dreamtalia Carrie AU

Credits:

Kyokyo866: Reve, Nevo, World(Nicholas) and Dreamtalia in general

Thriftlita: Vanya

Hetalia: Hidekaz Himaruya

Carrie: Stephen King

Warning:

Swearing

Religion

Religious abuse

Child abuse

Self-harm

Starring:

Reve and World(Nicholas) as Carrie White

Nevo as Margaret White

Germany as Tommy Ross

Canada as Sue Snell

Vanya as Miss Desjardin

(Author's Note: I've finished reading the book a while ago so I wrote something to celebrate- also I think this'll be my last piece until after my exams..)

(Note: the way i’ve written thoughts in parentheses is mimicking how Stephen King wrote telepathic communication and thoughts in Carrie- he only used apostrophes)

Carrie Memory- Father

Reve was humiliatingly trying to slip on the lacy stocking for he had bought to go with the dress Nicholas made for him. He was hobbling on one foot- knocking into nearly everything in Nicholas’ bedroom.

Nicholas snickered,

( christ, you look funny)

at this point Reve looked like he was wrestling a boa constrictor- and losing.

“And-And-Annnnnnnnd-'' Reve teetered backwards, “Got it!” The left stocking slipped on as he fell on the bed.

Nicholas let out a loud “HA!” as Reve fussed the skirt of the dress out of his face. He pushed himself out and stomped over to Nicholas, who slammed his mouth shut.

Reve pouted, “Shaddup! Who’re you laughin’ at?”

“You-!” he squeaked.

“You ass-” Reve blurted out. He went over to his white open-foot 2-inch heels and gloves. Slipping on the opera gloves were easier than the stockings, they latched on to his arms with a ‘SNAP’, they covered his scars easily. Next were the shoes, he slipped them on and he tightened them with a ‘SNAP’ as well, much more comfortable than the mary-janes he was offered earlier. He walked over to the full-body mirror and looked his entire outfit over. Reve began to worry, he went over to the dresser and sat down on a stool to let Nicholas fix his hair.

Reve’s face grimaced as his head became a jambalaya of worries.

( what if he doesn’t like how i look do you think the dress is weird nicky do you think it’s wei)

Nicholas hummed a hymn softly as he tried to soothe Reve.

( i think you good like you steal someone’s date you could steal all the boys from their dates that’s what i think)

Reve shrinked.

(what if this is a big joke what if luddie and mattie come hooting and hollering at my get-up what if he calls me a fag i don’t wanna be what if stands me up o god o god)

Nicholas smirked.

(i’ll tear out his tongue and feed it to mattie for being a big fat liar i’ll throw his ride into the gym that’s what i’ll do)

Reve gave a playful smile in turn.

(naughty nicky o no don’t do that that kills people)

The door to Nicholas’ bedroom slammed open to reveal his darling father.

“Red,” Papa said, glaring daggers into Nicholas’ uniform. “‘Course it’d be red.”

“I’m wearing blue and white- not just red.” Nicholas scoffed as he helped Reve put on a faux-flower armband Ludwig had given him. He finished combing down all of Reve’s hair save for a cowlick that refuses to go down.

(i think you should go downstairs reve this will turn sour go downstairs and wait for me)

(no i won’t let that windbag hurt you i’m staying i’m not leav)

“Take off that uniform- burn it.” Papa said sharply, approaching. “You can stay home- we can pray for forgiveness.”

“I. Don’t. Want. To. Pray. That’s final, papa. We have to get ready for prom.” Nicholas said. Oh that’s what he said to ‘pa, the ultimate curse word- worse than the Eff Word. Nicholas pulled Reve up to his feet from the stool and draped a shawl across his shoulders.

(leave reve go downstairs and wait for vanya i don’t want you to hear this)

Papa stayed still and stunned as though he had been slapped. “.......Take off that uniform, burn it, there’s still-”

“No. I. Said. No. Go fuck yourself, ‘cause after prom- I’m coming to pack up.”

He smacked himself- hard, leaving a red mark. It looked like a scar, a bunch of scratches. Nicholas paid no mind. With a blank stare he turned to the wall rushed at it- head forward.

He slammed into the wall with a loud ‘THUD’, he burst into tears and screamed. Reve jumped and his face scrunched up, he took hold of his wrist and stroked it- knowing what was under the gloves.

(what why you don’t hurt yourself like that no no leave nicky out of this you don’t hurt yourself in front of others no no you do that alone alone in private i know i do stupid bad man)

Nicholas still did not falter.

Papa then stared at Reve- like an angry father meeting his daughter’s secret boyfriend, climbing through her bedroom window. “You.”

Reve backed up into a corner near an open window- as Papa rushed up and seized Reve’s throat. He shook him back and forth raving- a s Nicholas tried to pull them apart.

(nicky i can’t breathe help me i’m gonna be sick)

“You rat- you parasite-! This is your fault!” he moaned as Nciholas tried to smack him off of Reve.

(don’t touch him don’t you do that papa don’t hurt him hurt me instead hurt me HURT INSTEAD ME HURT ME HURT ME PLEASE GOD HURT ME HURT ME HURT ME HURT M)

“I tried to keep the devil out of my house- and it was so difficult- it almost worked-!” Papa gasped, throwing his head up and whining to the ceiling. “Then you-you came along and taught him about those- those whores! You’ve turned him into an agent of the Wicked One- ” he paused for a moment and stopped shaking Reve- yanking the boy to look straight into the eyes of madness.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Reve shrieked in confusion.

(o god i’m scared i’m gonna shit myself)

Flex.

Papa was flung to the wall. Reve fell against the window sill, as a car pulled up to the house. The three rushed to the window as a station wagon came to a stop.

Mr.Bazarov had stepped out of the car; he was wearing a light, mute blue three-piece tuxedo that surprisingly matched his eyes- with a tar black bowtie.

Papa flew into a panic, he grabbed Nicholas by his wrists- “Please. Nicholas you can just stay here with me-!”

“I don’t want to stay with you papa-!”

“I’ll answer the door- I’ll tell him you changed your mind- that you don’t want to be around him-!”

“Let me go-leave me alone-!”

“You heard ‘im he doesn’t wanna stay-!” Reve yelled nearly breathless.

“Sit down-.”

“I’ll tell him you’re sick-!”

“SIT DOWN BE QUIET!’

FLEX.

Papa was flung to the floor and Reve was flung out of the bedroom.

(reve wait downstairs i’ll deal with this)

The door slammed shut, and Reve finally decided to go to the door.

Reve slammed the door open- to meet Mr.Bazarov, pacing up and down the porch, the slam startled him.

“Faucher! It’s nice to see you!” Mr.Bazarov looked him up and down. “This is wonderful handiwork!” he said,coming closer and examining the homemade dress. “Where’d you get something like this?”

“Nicky made it for me, he didn’t really want me- us- to go to prom- but he wanted to help me get a dress.” Reve said, stepping out on the porch and twirling to give him a full view of the pink gown. “He thought it was too plain but I like it!”

“That’s wonderful-! But where’s Nicholas?” Mr. Bazarov asked.

(oh shit)

“He’s-.” Reve was about to explain, before everything went awry.

(AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA)

Everyone outside, even Ludwig and Matthew who were still in the car-and now leaving to investigate- put their hands over their ears. A scream rang out, a scream from Nicholas- but it wasn’t as vocal as it sounded.

(LEAVE ME ALONE GET IN THE CLOSET LEAVE ME ALONE GET IN THE CLOSET LEAVE ME ALONE GET IN THE CLOSET LEAVE ME ALONE GET IN THE CLOSET LEAVE ME ALONE GET IN THE CLOSET LEAVE ME ALONE GET IN THE CLOSET LEAVE ME AL)

Windows and doors all over the house slammed open, and they heard Papa screaming his head off. “Nicholas stop this! Don’t you dare-!”

Finally, everything finally stopped opening- just closed. Save for Papa’s screaming- now accompanied by sobbing.

“N-Nicholas please! Don’t-They laugh at you-THEY’LL LAUGH AND YOU KNOW IT!” he howled. “COME BACK-PLEASE- I’LL PROTECT YOU! I JUST WANT TO HELP!” Footsteps were approaching, fast and loudly- and intensified as Papa’s tirade continued.

“COME BACK-! THEY’RE GONNA LAUGH AT YOU! YOU FOOL! THE LORD IS NOT MOCKED! COME BACK AND PRAY!”

“SHUT UP!” Nicholas screamed into the air, “STAY IN THAT CLOSET- and don’t say a word until I’m gone.”

Everyone outside could finally breathe again as they had been holding their breaths.

Nicholas choked out a sob, “I’ll be home at 11:30, and if you’re good- I won’t leave like this again, okay?”

“................”

“I’m sorry Papa, I love you.” Nicholas hiccupped.

Now a quartet of Mr.Bazarov, Matthew, Reve and Ludwig met Nicholas as he stepped out onto the porch.

Mr.Bazarov approached him and put a hand on his back and rubbed it, bending over to see if Nicholas was crying. “Boy-boy are you alright?”

Nicholas simply nodded.

(please please hold me please someone hold me)

Reve came over and embraced Nicholas. “That was very brave of you Nicky, very brave.”

“Sorry to interrupt-” Ludwig had finally spoken, “But- is everyone ready to go?”

Nicholas said, “Yes, we’re raring to go.”

Reve turned to Ludwig and whispered, “Um, how do I look?”

Ludwig gave him a small smile with a red face, “Wunderbar.” before shoving his face in his hands.

Reve tilted his head, “Eh?”

“Wonderful- he means wonderful.” Matthew said butting in.

Reve swore steam was coming out of his ears like a kettle.

(ohohohohohohohohohoho)

“Thank you.”

#dreamtalia #carrie au #my writing #tw child abuse #tw swearing #tw religion #tw religious abuse #bad god au #long post #tw self harm

[mxraxi]

Date: July 28th, 2020

Something gained (pt 2)

𝙏𝙒: 𝘒𝘪𝘥𝘯𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘦, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘩𝘺𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘣𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘦, 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘶𝘮𝘢, 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮

𝙂𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚: 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵

-

Both her body and her sleep were fucked up. Those men never grew tired, not only abusing her over and over again -making it unattainable to rest, if that was even possible because of the constant pains, thoughts and new fears-, but also kicking her, slapping her, throwing her to the ground one… two… seven… ten times.

Astrid was now extremely weak, malnourished and dehydrated. That dragon venom didn’t help either. It was making everything much worse; and she swore it was just a matter of time before it killed her.

Her mind was also messed up, replaying the insults repeatedly, panicking even at the subtlest of noises; horrible thoughts about death, frightening faces and monsters. She had no idea why her head had suddenly created those horrendous scenarios and images. Maybe because of her constant state of fear. Either one way or another, every inch of her was now ruined, and she knew that.

Steps were now approaching. She knew what was coming:

Endless hours of torture.

‎ ‎‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎▪︎

Laughing and mocking her, the Vikings cleaned themselves up, throwing her against the wall one last time before leaving her there. She no longer tried to stop them, too weak to even make an effort. Her clothes now dirty and in such a terrible state. Her wrists still tied up and her mouth still covered from the day she arrived, Astrid wondered if she would ever remember how to laugh, how to walk, how to speak…

Would she even get out of there?

And as she drifted into a big dark nothingness once again, she could have sworn she heard an annoyingly familiar voice, and the unequivocal sound of the plasma blast of a certain Night Fury.

‎ ‎‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎▪︎

.

.

“Oh gods…”

.

.

“SHE’S BREATHING! EVERYONE, WE NEED TO…“

.

.

“Hold on Astrid. Stay with me please”

“Shit”

“We need Gothi, NOW! HURRY UP AND…”

.

.

Nothing

.

.

Her head was resting on top of something warm and soft. A pile of clothes maybe? Trying to steady her breathing, she made a big effort to open her now heavy eyelids, and shut them back immediately after the sudden bright light almost blinded her. Every bit of her body ached, her head feeling like a thousand axes were hitting it nonstop. She also noticed bandages all over her legs, arms, torso, feet…

Had she really been injured that badly?

She heard voices in the distance, but the buzzing in her ears was too loud to ignore it. Astrid then realized she was covered from head to toe in some sort of icy-cold water, –that was most likely sweat- and a sudden sensation of nausea invaded her empty stomach. Feeling worse and worse after each passing second, she tried to move, failing miserably.

The sudden deliberation of not knowing where she was or who were the ones talking from afar made her efforts stop at once. What if they wanted to hurt her like those other Vikings? The smallest of movements and they would know she was awake. Not again. Please.

All of these thoughts – and the ear buzz too- were preventing her from hearing steps getting closer and closer. A hand came out of nowhere, making a sudden contact with her skin and she lost it. Using some sort of inner power she didn’t know she had, she opened her mouth, gasping and letting out a small but painful sob. Whoever tried to touch her did not expect this to happen, and removed his extremity as fast as possible, moving back.

Silence

“…A-Astrid?”

𝘏𝘪𝘤𝘤𝘶𝘱

She painfully opened her eyes, now getting accustomed to the light. It took her a few seconds to process everything surrounding her: Ruff, Tuff, Snotloud, Fishlegs… they were all there. And Hiccup, a few inches closer was now staring back at her, astonished and fearful. When he grasped the fact that she was actually awake, he almost ran to where she was, not being able to hold himself.

“Oh Th-Thor Astrid, you- you’re awake. Gods I-I thought I-“

She flinched at the sudden reach, muscles tensing up again. Why was her body doing this? He was Hiccup for fucks sake. She knew he wouldn’t even dare to hurt her.

But it seemed like her body could not comprehend that.

Her unexpected reaction made the boy stop abruptly. Shocked, as everyone else in the room, he tried to approach again, slower, tears now forming in his eyes.

“…It- It’s me…Hiccup” he cried “Love, no one’s gonna hurt you anymore… please…”

He reached the edge of the bed, and as gently as he could, he sat down, trying to reach out for her hand.

And so she broke down in tears.

She was furious, frustrated, desolated… Why her? Why did this happen to her? They took away her soul, her humanity, erasing every trail of happiness, reducing her to nothing. She was dead inside, feeling like a corpse; like a bunch of bones. Worthless, weak, empty… a piece of insignificancy.

And as a heartbroken Hiccup held her now thin and brittle body, him sobbing uncontrollably as well, blaming himself for all she had been through, his head hit hers, now awfully hot and covered in sweat. Her hair was notably wet as well.

“Oh my gods, Astrid, you’re burning up!” Hiccup gasped, a rush of trepidation taking over him. He stood up almost immediately, grabbing a towel and placing it against her forehead. Gothi started moving as well, handing her a glass of water. She tried to support herself with her arms, collapsing immediately because of how fragile her whole body was. One of the twins took notice –Astrid could not tell which of the two; her vision still a little bit blurry, her mind still trying to digest everything- and went rushing to her side to help her sit, getting a hold of her arms and back, pushing her up steadily but firmly. Now holding the glass for her and placing it at her mouth opening– an action that was impossible for the girl to do given her condition- her friend helped her swallow the liquid.

Hiccup glanced back, just the plane view of her current state making his heart shrink and break into little pieces. Steady and calm –as calm as he could be- he grabbed both her hands, rubbing his thumbs against them.

“Darling, we were nursing your injuries and noticed a deep dark bruise at the bend of your left elbow. There are some red dots too, like- like- like if they s-stuck needles all over… that… is-“

“What he’s trying to say, girl, is that if there’s something else they did that may cause you future problems you need to tell us so we can nurse it, and then you can heal properly” Gothi said, approaching the couple with her arms loaded with bottles.

Yes, there was one thing:

The venom.

Astrid wasn’t exactly sure how serious that could be, since it had not killed her, but it was definitely the cause of what she was feeling now. She needed to let Gothi know. She surely had some potion that could help.

But for some unknown reason, Astrid was not able to say a word. Not because there was something wrong with her vocal cords, –she was sure they were just fine- but because her brain seemed to be unable to make her open her stupid mouth and talk.

Everyone looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to say something; but when seconds passed, and she was not even trying to speak, they realized something was not right.

“A-Astrid? Does your throat hurt? Is there-“

“Hiccup, come with me for a second” Gothi said

The old lady took the boy outside. When she was sure no one was able to hear them, she started to verbalize her thoughts.

“Listen Hiccup, I know this might be hard but usually, after a traumatic experience, a person can develop some type of mutism”

“… so you’re telling me that-“

“Let me finish. We don’t know what happened there, but because of her scars and injuries I have an idea. The bruise might be because they actually injected her with some sort of substance. I’m guessing it was venom, and I know how to treat that so don’t worry about that for now. What I will ask you is to please help her as much as you can. Both emotionally and mentally. You may be the only one she trusts right now.”

Astrid, the girl who was always strong and ready to help no matter what, was now in need of what she always offered to others. As hard as it was to digest, Hiccup knew he had to be there for her. He was not losing her again.

𝘼/𝙉: 𝘚𝘰 𝘪𝘮 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴? 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘬𝘴𝘣𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘯𝘨𝘭, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘬? 𝘩𝘦𝘩𝘦

#hiccstrid #astrid hofferson #fanfic #fanfiction #hiccstrid fanfic #angst #httyd #triggering content #writing #hiccup #hiccup haddock #hurt/comfort #fandoms #httyd rtte #rtte #hiccstrid angst #hiccstrid angs

[mrwinterr]

Death of Me (Chase Collins x Dark!Witch!Female Reader) - Part 1

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Pairing: Chase Collins x Dark!Witch!Female Reader

Summary: The reader is addicted to the idea of love and Chase is addicted to the idea of ultimate power – both can help each other out.

Warnings: Movie spoilers for The Covenant (2006) and The Love Witch (2016). Supernatural elements [witchcraft], dark themes [mentions of death and really bad people] and smut [18+ only please].

Disclaimer: This story contains dialogue, characters and references taken from both films. It essentially follows the plot of The Covenant with a reader insert. The reader is loosely based on the main character of The Love Witch. I take no credit for any of those elements used. They belong to the creators of the films. I just wanted to try my hand at having these worlds crossover.  

Title Inspiration: “Death of Me” by New Politics

A/N: I don’t know who still reads Chase Collins fanfics, but I wanted to get this one out. This will have multiple parts. Comments, likes and reblogs are all appreciated! Enjoy!

Now entering the town of Ipswich.

It’s a bit dreary, but that didn’t bother you. It always appeared as if a dark cloud followed you. Miles and miles away from the city you last called home, driven away by another failed attempt at a relationship – you were no stranger to those – was becoming somewhat of a routine for you.

The earliest unsuccessful relationship of yours recorded was with your parents. They were hardly a part of your life to begin. It wasn’t like you didn’t try at building one with them; they were the ones that didn’t. You might as well had been invisible to them. A parents’ love was the first kind of love one was supposed to encounter, and it was to be unconditional. They simply didn’t care for their own daughter and it hurt you. Maybe if they showed you any ounce of love or what it was really like perhaps you wouldn’t be so obsessed over trying to understand it. Ironically for two individuals who expressed no love at all, you had so much of it. It was just the matter of finding the right person to give it to.

For as long as you could remember, you’d been fending for your own. So, the first thing you did when you managed to save enough money, you packed up and left your parents. The next city was supposed to your second chance, but you were so young. You hadn’t even begun to plan your own future. Hell, you were living in the car you’d purchased on your own by accepting countless odd jobs and getting paid under the table. For a few months, you had waitressed at a small restaurant, where a group of interesting people, to say the least, caught your attention.

They were regulars to the eatery and had been watching you with a purpose. They could smell you were somewhat of a troubled youth that needed guidance. They welcomed you to their inner circle and soon into their coven. Yup, they were witches and surprisingly that didn’t bother you about them. They were good people to you. You owed it to whoever these people worshiped because they helped provide you an education, shelter, food and lessons in magic – practicing spells and concocting potions – and even more so in taking back control of your own life. This was now your family. You finally felt a sense of belonging with this group.

None of them had any actual internal powers, but they each individually excelled in different aspects of the craft. They taught you how to focus on concentrating energy, using your magic, to gain results; if you could achieve that you’d be the one in control, and essentially have power over the subject. You also learned that there were different types of witches – ones that were made into witches and ones born as witches. You had never known to encounter one that was born into a bloodline, but you had been warned that they would be much stronger than you, so that alone motivated you in perfecting the craft should one come to you as a threat.

You became enamored by witchcraft. You felt reborn through it. In a sense, it saved you. On top of that, you had nothing to lose, so why not sell your soul, right? While you certainly felt loved by the witches, you still yearned for a different type of love.  

The first failed relationship in which you were intimately involved in was with a guy your age at the time. Looking back at it, you can’t help but to laugh. Oh boy, what a mistake that was.

With the help of your newfound family, you were able to enroll into the local high school. Unwanted attention came with the territory of being the new girl and you were no exception to one of the most sought-after guys in your class. The next thing you knew, you were losing your virginity to him then only for him to leave you the following day. At that tender age, you thought you loved him, and you wanted him to love you. This is why it was comical. What did you know about love at 16 anyway? So impressionable and so naive.

This was the first time you experimented with love spells and potions and he was your first victim. You had been warned about messing with love spells before, but what spell didn’t come without a warning? It seemed to work, but the more time you spent with him the less you wanted to. It turned out he wasn’t in any way what you wanted at all, an even bigger mess than you were portrayed...and maybe even loved you too much. At least that’s what was mentioned in his suicide note.

His death traumatized you for the first few months and the High Priestess decided it was best you continue elsewhere. Initially, that scared you because you thought they were kicking you out, but you were bonded to them and, with another warning about love spells, she assured you that there are plenty of their kind willing to take another in, you’d just have to be sworn in all over again.

As soon as you recovered a year later, with the immense support of your new coven, you were almost an adult and ready to find the one...the new one. And this one seemed to have it going for him. He was attractive, smart and respectable, but he just had too many feelings and it turned you off. He was a fucking pussy. You swore you could still hear his sobs ringing in your ears. You wanted to love a man, not care for a child. The mental institution he ended up being committed in would be able to give him that.

You moved on fairly quickly not wanting to be reminded of the previously failed conquest, however, you should’ve seen the next one coming, but, again, you were hopeful. Third time was not a charm, it was a tragedy. Two lost individuals, one with a broken past and the other battling with substance abuse, trying to find solace in each other was a recipe for disaster. His problems were soon becoming humdrum. As if you didn’t have any problems of your own to deal with, but who was ever there for you? He constantly ached and ached for you, begged for your help. Fucking clingy. You just couldn’t bring yourself to feel remorse for him anymore. Long story short, he’s six feet under a makeshift grave. Metaphorically, he had dug it on his own a long time ago.

Determined to bounce back, you found yourself traveling to a quaint colonial town in Massachusetts. A member of your previous coven recommended Ipswich and believed you would find the one in your cards there. Not sure whether or not to believe them or if “the one” really existed and was waiting for you, the notion of having nothing to lose decided for you and made Ipswich your new destination.

You’re unloading box after box in your single dorm room, a special request you made so you could practice magic in peace, when someone pokes their head in the door you left opened. It was only open because you weren’t able to drag in some of the larger boxes inside yet and they must’ve spotted them.

“Need any help?” The deep voice causes you turn to the doorway, where a guy, who’s tall, no doubt athletic, a head full of dark hair, a hint of innocence surrounding him, greets you with a sweet smile.

“Um, yeah actually,” you reply with a smile to match the tone. You could carry your own, but why turn down the free labor and perhaps even a show. He was cute. That much you deduced from watching the way his body moved, the skin that peeked out from when his shirt would ride up as he bent down and lifted boxes of your belongings into your room.

“Oh! Please be careful with that one!” You warn seeing the box he was currently handling marked as fragile. It contained some of your bottles and they were practically sacred to you. He absorbs the warning and places the particular box gently aside.

“I’m Tyler by the way,” he says after setting the final box next to your feet and standing upright with a respectable amount of distance between you two. You introduce yourself and offer a now genuine smile. You didn’t want to fall victim to yet another nightmare of a relationship, but you kept thinking about what your fellow member told you – the one is in Ipswich and the one could be in front of you right now.

Tyler ends up staying a little longer as you expected that night and you let him. He had a presence you didn’t feel with towards the others. There was just a different kind of energy there.

The two of you were getting along just fine, but you decided to take it upon yourself for safe measures with him and sneak in a little something you made. You say to yourself maybe he’s worth a shot. And he was. You went on a couple of dates with Tyler, met his three closes friends Caleb, Pogue and Reid, but you wouldn’t consider yourself close with them; they just came with the territory. Yet that energy Tyler had around him kept haunting you.

You weren’t sure if you were losing your touch or had a typo in your spell book, but you began to notice the effects didn’t last long with him in particular. He was almost immune to it. The spells were designed to enhance qualities and features about the other person and if you noticed any trend in using love spells was that it showed one’s true self.

Tyler started to become dull to you, like there was no sense of excitement with him. Harsh, not even magic could help you. Afterall, you can’t work with what’s already there. He had his looks going for him, he was a nice boy, and he was certainly several steps above the others in bed, but he never challenged you and you began forgetting he was even in the same room as you. You could’ve sworn he was about to cry when you told him you wanted to just be friends, but he accepted it because he was whipped. No backbone whatsoever. Well, at least he was still alive.

His loss would’ve probably hit you a little different because he was still a sweet guy…and you didn’t need to be given a reason to leave Ipswich too soon. You were just getting started here. His friends didn’t even seem to hold anything against you, not that you really cared. You weren’t interested in going down the line of the Sons of Ipswich; a little history lesson you learned from Kate, Pogue’s girlfriend, whom you unwillingly also formed a friendship with by default. Apparently, these boys were a little prominent here descending from four of the five families that colonized the town. Besides, if Tyler was boring, you weren’t willing to get into the whole mama’s boy routine Caleb kept up with and Reid proved to be too obnoxious for your own taste.

A private school full of rich kids like Spencer Academy, there were bound to be more guys at your disposal. You internally praised the member of your coven for recommending Ipswich. Your conquest to find real love never wanders too far off, but why not have some fun along the way?

Lately, you kept to yourself in your dorm; biding by with your teenage life in regularly attending your classes, occasionally hanging out with Kate – shopping or listening to her rant about another one of Pogue’s jealousy episodes – show face at Nicky’s once in a while and of course practice magic. There was a party tonight near the woods and almost everyone who was anyone was going to be in attendance. You thought you could use a break after a long week.

You parked your car nearby a bunch of others and managed to spot Kate waving you down to join her. Next to her was someone you hadn’t seen before. Kate introduced her to you as Sarah, her new roommate this semester. She seemed nice. Being in her shoes not too long ago, you decided to try and make her feel welcomed.

“So, tell me. Who is who that’s here,” Sarah asks, loosening up and it’s nice to see a sense of normalcy in your life; making new friends and having a good time like a person your age should. There’s a sense of danger and risk being at this party with violating trespassing signs, a huge fire and lots and lots of drugs and alcohol with underaged teenagers.

“First things first. Him over there,” Kate starts pointing at a source of one of your disgust, “that’s Aaron Abbot. He’s a prick. He treats girls like shit; just ask y/n.” Sarah looks at you with a look of curiosity and hint of concern, but you just give her a mix between a shrug and nod letting her know you’re okay and that Kate is right.

Aaron was someone you messed with in private to test a new potion out after failing with Tyler. You’d seen guys like Aaron before. If you learned anything from the first one it was that guys like Aaron were your textbook high school jackass. Thinking about it made your blood boil. The humiliation you felt when you realized he had only pursued you because you were fresh meat and to become just a notch on his bedpost. How’d that saying go? Fool me once shame on me, fool me twice…

If there was one other thing you loved more than the idea of love, it was sweet revenge. You anticipated for it to be nasty with Aaron after you cut ties with him. No one even seemed to believe him when he tried to spread awful things about you. You had a decent reputation at Spencer. You mentally praised yourself at job well done with that one. Maybe you weren’t losing your touch after all.

You briefly excused yourself from the girls to look for a drink. You scan the perimeter trying to locate a cooler, but you become distracted when you see a hint of a flash between some trees in your peripheral. As it occurred something seemed to also blow right past you; something you only felt with when in proximity of other supernatural elements, but yet unlike any other. You look to the other attendees and realize no one noticed anything unusual. When you look back towards the direction where the light came from, you see a figure walking out from the woods.  

You take a hard look at the person trying to recognize them, but you don’t. A new guy. He’s got a certain swagger in his steps, dark hair tousled and a little spiked at the ends, a sharp jawline and eyes that were too dark for you be able to tell what color they really were, and it being nighttime didn’t aid you in figuring it out.  

He must’ve caught your gaze because he’s now staring right back at you. His stare is cold, and you feel frozen, even unable to turn away. And yet again, something feels different and it only gets even more prominent the longer you look at him. You try not to ponder too long about it and decide to avoid him. You concentrate enough energy on your body until you were finally able to get yourself to walk away. Not wanting to stick around long enough for anything to come out of that, you continue your quest to find a drink, not looking back.

Unsuccessful, you head back towards the girls that were clearly in a scuffle with mega bitch Kira Snider, who is actually dating Aaron and has a personal vendetta against you. How were you supposed to know he was already dating her when you were fucking with him? Poor girl doesn’t love herself enough to be with trash like that.

You notice the Sons of Ipswich have already arrived and are trying to defend Kate and Sarah. Right before a fight is about to ensue, someone intervenes and successfully calms both parties down...well sort of. Kira didn’t really take too kindly at his words and Aaron at the puke that was dripping off the back of his letterman all of a sudden.

It was him. He looked a lot nicer up close. The guys thank him for helping diffuse the situation and you hear him introduce himself as Chase Collins. You can feel his eyes on you, but before the line of introductions could get to you, the DJ is announcing the party is a bust and the cops are zoning in. Soon, you break away from the group and take off in the direction of your parked car.

You happen to notice that Sarah is struggling to get her car started. You think about helping her, but see Reid is already on it. The sons are always saving the day, aren’t they? Was your last stance on that before you drove away from the scene. The adrenaline didn’t subside until you were on a clear road back to the housing buildings.

You just about have the key inserted and are about to unlock your door when you hear a voice.

“Some party, huh?” It sounded like just a couple of steps away.

You look down towards the hallway and see Chase standing a few doors down.

“It was kind of boring,” you admit. The only thing that would’ve probably made it exciting was if someone almost died.

He laughs lightly at that and nods showing he agreed to some degree.

“You didn’t have the least bit fun at all?” He asks.

You cock your head to the side a bit for show and pretend to think, but your mind was already made up. The party was a total bust and waste of your time, so no, you didn’t have any fun at all, but you could have some fun now. Hot guy you barely knew in front of you, attempting conversation – you thought he just had to have wanted something.

“You want to have some real fun?” You challenge as you reach deep into your coat pocket and produce a custom flask. It sparkles slightly from the lights of the hallway reflecting it as you wave it around giving him a devious look. 

Chase presses his lips together and brings a hand to the back of his neck to rub at it, showing some form of nervous or conflicting habit, before looking around to see if anyone was watching this happen. You’re not sure what he’s thinking, but you don’t give him much time to reply and proceed to push open your door and walk in. You don’t close it though.

You’re shrugging off your coat and kicking off your shoes when you hear the door shut behind you. You smile to yourself because he’s fallen right into your trap.

“You know, I never got your name,” he says while admiring your room. The only source of light comes from a dimly lit lamp and the strings of light surrounding the tapestry against the wall next to your bed. You always kept your secret hidden and out of plain sight in fear of someone breaking in, so as far as you were concerned, you weren't at him catching onto anything. 

“It’s y/n.”

Chase nods and says he likes it. You try not to roll your eyes at that before you turn his way, throwing the flask you were flaunting earlier in his direction and then plopping down on your bed. He swiftly catches it and walks towards the bed.

“You’re trouble, aren’t you?” He teases taking a seat next to you.

“Why don’t you find out?” You sit up matching him.

He smirks while unscrewing the cap and taking a swig. You watch as his initial reaction is to cringe at its contents. His eyes wring shut, nose scrunched up, lips pressed tightly together and the rest of his expression showing his body’s response at an attempt to process the hard liquor.

“Shit! That’s fucking strong,” he comments staring at the flask as if he could see through the silver and inspect the liquid.

“Finish it,” you command, your voice was smooth but still assertive – a deadly combination. He’s almost hypnotized by your cold and striking stare, he only feels compelled to listen. You observe the way his lips shone from the liquid that coated it, the way his throat contracted when he swallowed it down and how he peeked through one of his eyes to get a look at you watching him ingest every last drop and when he’s done he lunges at you. Chase doesn’t miss a beat when his lips meld with yours.

You pull him down and closer by the lapels of his thick coat before you’re kicking at the ends of it with your bare feet trying to help you rid him of it. You momentarily feel all his weight press into you as he nimbly tries to remove the outerwear, his lips never leaving yours. You hear a click at your door and pull away from him to see if someone had entered.

You don’t see any sign of disturbance, but you could’ve sworn you heard something. Chase doesn’t let that distract you as he brings you in by grabbing the back of your neck to reconnect your lips with his. The moment he slips his tongue in to meet with yours you melt. You had to stress this one, but he was a really good kisser. You might’ve met your match as his tongue continued to show dominance against yours.

His drive only fuels you and you’re able to summon enough strength to roll over and get him underneath your body. You place a few kisses on his face and neck, running your hands down his clothed chest before you lift the end of his shirt up to reveal his toned torso and also begin planting kisses there as well.

Your fingers deftly unfasten his belt and pop open the front of his dark jeans. Chase lets out a small sigh in finding relief to the sudden tightness in his clothing. The sound of you slowly dragging down his zipper is loud. It’s only that excruciating because you’re taking your sweet time. You pull apart his pants to get a close look at what you’re going to be dealing with. The outline of his cock just with what you can make out through his boxers is rather impressive. It twitches from your hot breath due to the close proximity.

You shoot him a crooked smile before wrapping a hand around his length. He hisses at the action and tries his best to keep his hips grounded as you continue to stroke him and every now and then give a little squeeze to his heavy balls, the soft vibrations of your nails scratching through the fabric torturing him. Cute. He’s trying to hold back. So, you kick it up a notch by licking a fat strip along the base and ignoring the fabric that sticks to your tongue.

It works because suddenly Chase props himself with one hand behind him and using the other to grab yours, the one that is still gripping at the waistline of his jeans and he stares you down. This is the first time you’re getting a good look at him; at the eyes you couldn’t make out earlier and make a mental note of what color they were. He’s fucking gorgeous. Clouded with lust, you don’t even sense it but it’s almost like you’re under a spell until you feel the tight grip he has on you loosen up and he lies back down allowing you to carry on.

You sit up, between his spread legs and reach around to pull his footwear off. He instinctively lifts his hips up when your fingers sneak their way into the elastic of his boxers. You expertly pull them down along with his jeans before they’re joining the rest of his clothes on the floor.

You reclaim your position back on top, your dress draping over his exposed bottom half as you straddle him. Chase’s hands start bunching up the material to caress the soft skin of your thighs and hips before he’s tugging at it. You help him and cross your arms to pull the material over your head and leave you in your undergarments.

Chase runs his tongue along his lips and sucks in a harsh breath taking in your appearance. You love the way he’s biting his lip when you add pressure into grinding your clothed core onto his bare one; so much you want to see him draw blood. The material of your underwear is so thin, it slides off to the side with each passing grind of your hips that get sloppier and sloppier than the next, it’s now skin on skin contact. You feel the ridges and prominent under vein scrape across your growingly wet pussy along with the way the crown of his engorged cock nudges deliciously against your clit.  

You’re gripping harshly at his shirt; it starts to stretch when you pull it in a downwards motion because the sensation you’ve both created from the constant gyrations causes a rise out of you. You feel Chase grab at the rolled-up material and pull it down your legs. When you’ve discarded of it, he takes over reigns this time and kicks your legs apart to make room for him.

The unseen and unspoken tension between you two was enough foreplay in itself. There’s no hesitation when he slips right into you. It’s a smooth entrance from how wet you from the grinding and the cum that managed to escape prematurely from him. There’s an abundance of euphoria that the each of you emote from the ragged breathing, provocative moans to the sting of your skin slapping. 

You think this isn’t anything more than pure want, but with a snap of his hips, you feel another strange feeling blow right through you. It was like the one you felt at the party, only a little more intense, but you didn’t even have time to mull over it when he finds the right spot in you. He hits it repeatedly and he’s not missing at all.

Chase sees the spaced-out look on your face, so he starts kissing you again. Your limbs wrap themselves around his body as you tightly cling onto him. Your hands desperately rake themselves on his back, trying to hold on from the immense pleasure he’s brewing in you, but you have a hard time with his pesky shirt still on until you finally manage to pull it over his head and have him fully naked.

His grunts and moans increase in volume when your walls retaliate by clenching around him from the perfect aim of his thrusts. You bring his head up to yours and smoosh your lips together with his. Chase then hooks an arm under one of your legs and hikes that leg up higher for a better angle. It’s so good you let out a string of lewd moans that causes your lips to repeatedly pull away from his. You curse at the insane amount of pleasure that he’s giving you like none of the others have before. You even catch the stupid smug look on his face when your orgasm washes over you. You grip tightly a handful of his cheeks, your hips lifting off the bed as they press against his to leave absolutely no space in between and in the process effectively allowing him to completely bottom out. You wanted to feel every inch of him when it happened.

He places a hand next to your head to help his stance, it’s a shaky one because he’s just about ready to bust. The tempo Chase sets, so relentless, had caused your breasts to bounce out of the confines of your bra.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he warns shamelessly. The way your breasts swayed, the harsh intake of each breath evident from the sight of your stomach tightening and untightening, your legs quivering around him and the fact that you were still riding through the aftershocks of your release, your walls were helplessly fluttering around him – just watching you wrecked with the satisfaction he brought on should’ve done it for him right then and there.

“Then cum,” you dare at him, your lips brushing his with each word that comes out next, “inside me…do it.” And like a snap of your fingers, you feel Chase spill deep inside you. You open your eyes wide enough and see something unusual when you look at him. A ring of fire flashes in his eyes very briefly before he closes them from the exhilaration. Each pump of cum that shoots out of him is followed by the accompanied throb that causes the head of his cock to poke at your sweet spot again, and in doing so initiates a small tidal wave of pleasure to crash right through you again.

Once he regained some composure and control of his breathing, his eyes reopen and they’re back to normal. Guess you were just seeing stars, or fire, in him. You carefully cup at his face with both hands and absentmindedly trace along at his boyish features; from the brow line of his eyebrows to the tip of his nose. He’s a fucking work of art. A lethargic smile splays out across his mouth and you return the display of affection with a smile of your own and giving him a kiss, which he immediately reciprocates to; no tongue or fervor in it, just of sweet contentment.  

While it was good, more than good, you’re too sensitive, you’re not sure if you have enough in you for a second go. Careful to not elicit another round, you wiggle your hips a bit with him still inside in hopes to get him to move off of you.

Chase slowly and cautiously pulls out, and you feel the trickle of his cum leaking out of you. He inwardly praises at the filthy sight of it all before settling next to you. As you’re about to drift off into sleep, your mind starts turning. Something about Chase made you feel strange. There was a different aura about him, and it was evoking a certain emotion from you.

A/N: This is me holding back on smut. This series is going to be quick because as mentioned, it’s The Covenant just with a reader and her own agenda caught in the crossfire...and an excuse for me to write Chase Collins smut, so if you're craving some of that then stick around! 

#chase collins smut #chase collins x reader #chase collins x y/n #chase collins x you #chase collins imagine #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan x reader

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Love has a funny way of pulling you back in

Tony had finally fallen asleep after staying up for three nights in a row. He had Jarvis turn everything on do not disturb and he planned to keep it like that for a while. Until his cell phone decided to go off. “Hello, who is this? Do you know its three in the morning?” “Heyy Tony, what do you say you come over here and I will show you a real rough and fun night?” On the other side of the line was a very drunk and very horny Steve. Tony didn’t have time to deal with his old fuck buddy. The way their arrangement ended was hard for Tony and he really didn’t feel like talking to him.

Tony and Steve laid entangled together in Steve’s one-bedroom Brooklyn apartment. Steve didn’t want to ever leave this spot. Steve finally felt safe with Tony wrapped up in his arms. He had a very troubled past with an abusive father on one hand and exes that would bring him down that he never felt like he could have the love he deserved. Not until he found Tony. They were friends for years and there was always a connection between them until one night after way too many shots of Fireball they decided they would move their friendship to be more friends with benefits. It was fun for a while until Steve caught feelings, but he could never really let Tony know this. “Hey, Steve what’s wrong you’re really quiet.” Tony turned to face Steve and saw stormy clouds cover Steve’s eyes. “Oh, nothing just thinking. You know I am always in my own head.” Steve pushed back Tony’s hair out of his face. He wanted to see his golden eyes one last time. “What are you thinking about? Anything important.” “Nothing too much. Just the future you know. Life could change in a minute. You know.” Tony took a deep breath ready to admit everything that was on his heart. “Yeah, I have been thinking about the future a lot too.” Tony sat up to see Steve’s face better. “I was thinking maybe we should move this from just fucking to something more. Like maybe we could go on a date. Maybe down at that dinner on 4th and 32nd street. What do you say?” There was a pleading in Tony’s voice. He needed this to work. “No.” Steve stood up and walked over to grab his pants off the floor. He couldn’t bear to see the look on Tony’s face. “No! What do you mean by no? You don’t want to date me. Why?” Steve wanted to cry. He wanted to run away because he knew Tony’s heart had just shattered in a million pieces. “No, I don’t want to. I don’t have feelings for you like that. Why do we have to take this farther? I think this is great the way things are.” Tony stood up and walked towards the door. “Well, fine then I’m done. I’m done with this mindless sex. I love you and I could see us having a future together but if you don’t then I think we are done here forever.” Tony grabbed the doorknob and twisted it open. “Do you have anything to say before I leave?” Steve kept quite with his back turned against Tony. “Fine, goodbye Steven.” Tony walked out and slammed the door behind him. Steve finally turned around to find himself standing in an empty room.

“Tony, are you there.” Tony stayed quite on the other end of the line. Did he really want to fall back into this? His heart broke and had just moved on from the man he would have given the world. “Yeah, I am here. I’m not going to come over and sleep with you. Are you okay it’s not like you to be this plastered in the middle of the night alone?” The line got really quiet. It was a long time before Steve finally answered. “No, no I am not okay. Is there any way you could come over? I could really use a friend” Tony grabbed his keys and hopped into his car. This wasn’t like Steve to beg and plead even though all the abuse he went through. He never showed his weakness.

Tony picked up the doormat to find Steve’s spare key. “Hey, is anybody home.” Tony walked towards Steve’s bedroom to find it completely empty. “Hey, Steve are you in here?” “I’m in here.” Tony walked into the bathroom to find Steve in flannel pajama bottoms and no shirt. If Tony was here for any other reason, he might have jumped at Steve’s original offer. Tony walked closer and kneeled next to Steve. “Tony, you came.” Steve laid down onto Tony’s lap which took him back a little bit. They haven’t even spoken to each other in two years, so this intimate touch made Tony feel a longing in his chest. Tony stroked Steve's hair like he used to do when they were kids and Steve needed to rest after the beating, he got from his father. “Of course, I came why would you think any different. Now, will you tell me what’s going on? Why are you drunk off your ass right now?” “Remember that time we snuck out of school in eighth grade and we went to the mall to see Stars Wars the Return of the Jedi. After we saw the movie, we saw a photo booth and You pulled me in because you wanted to remember this day forever. It cost three dollars which was all I had in my pocket, but I used all of it just to see you happy before our lives had to go back to normal. Well, I found those pictures tonight and it brought a rush of emotions back. You know us Rogers men aren’t great with our emotions, so you know a bottle of Jack Daniels just numbs all of the pain. Father like son right.” “ Stop it, you are nothing like your father. You are a good man. Rogers, a good man.” Steve just shrugged him off and handed the stripped of film to Tony. Tony just looked down at two boys with no care in the world. Tony remembered that day like it was yesterday because it was the best day of his life. That was the day he fell in love with his best friend.

“Yeah, I remember that day. You were so scared to go, and I had to practically drag you along. Then afterward we went and sat at the top of Cedar Mountain until our parents called the cops looking for us. We got into so much trouble that day, but it was worth it. Every bad decision with you was worth it.” Tony leaned in closer. What was he thinking Steve didn’t have feelings for him two years ago and he defiantly didn’t have feelings now? Steve wrapped his hand around Tony’s neck and pulled him down closer. They’re lips met with the same fiery passion from so long ago. Tony deepens the kiss allowing Steve’s hands to dance across his body. “Tony, I am sorry. I should have stopped you from walking out that door so many years ago. I love you more then the man in the moon could ever know. I was just so scared I would hurt you. When you walked away, I knew I did the one thing I swore to never do. I want to live a complete life with you. I want to hold you in my arms forever. I want the white picket fence, the dog running around the back yard and the two kids running around the house. Do you want that? Please say yes.” Steve began placing tiny kisses along Tony’s collarbone which made Tony lose all the hatred he had towards Steve. Of course, he wanted all of that. “Yeah, I would want all of that.” Steve looked into Tony’s eyes and knew that was what home felt like. He knew he would finally be safe. Steve started to fall asleep onto Tony’s shoulder and let himself drift off to happiness. “Steve let’s get you in bed.” Tony half-carried Steve to his bed and pulled the blanket up over him. Tony leaned down to give him a kiss and prepared to leave when Steve wrapped his hand around his wrist. “Will you stay with me tonight?” Tony pulled the cover backs and laid down beside Steve. Steve rolled over and pulled Tony in tightly. Steve knew this time he would never let Tony ago again.

#stony #stevetony #SUPERHUSBANDS #ash's blurbs

[discyours]

I don’t know to what degree this affects all women/girls in the grand scheme of living in a male-dominated society, but I feel like personally growing up surrounded by male influence (just in the sense of being a tomboy with “masculine” interests) really, really fucked me up. Before I was even old enough to date or to realise that I wasn’t actually one of the guys (or at least, wouldn’t be forever) I already knew all about what it meant to do wrong as a woman. What it meant to be a “bitch” who friendzoned nice guys, who uses men for attention only to hop around from relationship after relationship with assholes all while leaving the men who actually treat her right hanging. 

And I believed them, understood them, felt for them. I didn’t have any influence from women who could explain how hurtful it was to be on their side of things, who could tell me that you don’t owe anything to boys who like you. The people who influenced me were teenage boys, too immature for empathy but old enough to already feel bitter about being rejected. And I knew that, even though I’d never be the type of person to have boyfriends (not that I was a lesbian but That Type Of Thing just wasn’t for me, boys didn’t like me anyway and I just happened to have no issue accepting that very early on) I would never dream of causing that type of pain to someone. To a nice guy who’s done nothing wrong and deserves for things to go his way for once. 

And then I turned 13 and inexplicably I wasn’t allowed to be on the sidelines anymore. Boys started showing interest in me. The first time someone asked me to be his girlfriend I said no several times because well, I just wasn’t interested. Why would I be? He was just a friend. I just liked talking to him. Oh my god, he was a friend. I enjoyed his company. What reason did I have not to be interested? The conditioning kicked in. I didn’t want to be one of the “mean” girls, the bitches, the shallow cunts who won’t even give a guy a chance. So I said yes. 

It was less than two months after my 14th birthday when I finally broke up with him with the help of an adult man who had befriended me. By then he was a rapist who repeatedly tried to cut me off from all my friends and told me to kill myself every time we argued. When the man called my ex an asshole and himself a nice guy, I was shocked. He was right. How could I have let this happen, become the type of person I swore that I wouldn’t? I only dated him because I was supposed to give nice guys a chance. It took no more than a few days before the friend that had helped me asked me out, and I felt obliged to say yes. After all, he was a Nice Guy, he had helped me. When that relationship ended I felt worse about realising that I had become the girl who dates assholes and rapidly jumps between relationships than I had about letting myself get involved with a pedophile. 

A few days ago I realised I never got past these issues of rapidly jumping between relationships (because I’m bad at saying no to people and being “unavailable” is often the only valid excuse), being drawn to abusive men (because their coerciveness is the only thing that can even remotely make up for my lack of heterosexual attraction), of basing my self worth off male attention/attraction. And rather than feeling bad for myself and realising that I need to heal, my first thought was that I fucked up and became the type of person I learned so early on I shouldn’t be. No feeling of obligation towards myself, only towards the men that I’m “fucking over” by being like this. 

Idk not to blame my personal issues on society but I feel like being collectively groomed into viewing yourself as an object for male consumption rather than a human being stops a lot of women from healing and that’s really getting me down. 

#OP #radfem #socialisation #female socialisation #rape mention #ok to rb #file under: the terfs were right socialisation fucked me up

[puffmamaa]

Elbow Deep: Part 2

Hey, everybody! So here is Part 2. Finally! After racking my brain for daaayss, I was able to find some inspiration to write this. It will be a series btw. My first, so be gracious. I’m sensitive about my shit.

CATCH UP: Part 1.

Pairing: Erik ‘Killmonger’ Stevens x Black, Dark-Skin, Plus Size OC. (Always💛)

Summary: It all started with a plate of hot wings, y’all.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Cussing. Use of the N-word. Mention of the death of a parent. Mention of emotional abuse, fatphobia, & cheating in a romantic relationship. And a small mention of Steve Harvey, just in case the thought of his mustache triggers anybody. 🙃

A/N: I had to make some changes. One big one is that Erik isn’t the director of the Wakandan Outreach Center like what was mentioned in Part 1. He actually doesn’t work with it at all. But it’ll all be explained as we go along. Hopefully, it’ll makes sense. If not, I’ma need y’all to just roll with it anyways lol.

Bold, Italic font is inner dialogue.

——

Janessa moved through the gala hall towards her sit, her thick hips swaying between the tables.

“Girl, where the hell did you go? Leaving me here all by myself,” Chantelle, Janessa’s best friend, scowled lowly. She was a tall, fluffy-thick with sepia brown skin that was complimented well by her long, navy gown. Her fluffy burgundy twist was pinned in a cute updo.

“You’re the one who nearly begged to be my plus one. I figured you wouldn’t mind,” Janessa whispered back, tossing her black, waist length locs over her shoulder as she sat down. “Plus, I was hungry and had to find something actually edible.”

“Heffa, you ate without me? What kind of friend…” Chantelle gave her a betrayed look.

“You looked fine picking at that bird food early. Kiki-ing real hard with whoever that guy was.”

“That’s because he looked like he had a little money. But he was a whole cornball. Going on about Steve Harvey being his role model or something. I couldn’t hear shit else after that.”

Janessa scoffed. “You better leave them bootstrappin’ negros alone.”

“I know. I usually wouldn’t even entertain…” Chantelle trailed off. “Who is that guy staring at you?” 

“What?” Janessa replied, looking in the same direction as Chantelle. “Oh. I meet him earlier in the kitchen. We had some wings together.”

“You sure all he wanted was the wings? Cause he’s looking at you like you’re a bowl of gravy. And he’s the biscuit.”

“Girl,” Janessa huffed.

“Uh, uh. He FINE fine.” She squinted her dark brown eyes. “Did you at least give him your number?”

“Hell no. I didn’t come here for all tha—OW!” She yelped.

Chantelle had given her one of those big mama church pinches.

“What the fuck was that for?”

“Letting his delectable ass get away. I should do worse but we in public so I’ll let you live,” she half joked.

Janessa rubbed the sore spot on her thigh and looked over towards Erik. He was staring. And he was fine. It’s not like she didn’t notice before. She definitely did. His smooth brown skin and dark amber eyes. The way his meticulously sculpted facial hair framed his deep dimples. And those lips. She could feel herself starting to overheat. Uh, uh. No Ma’am. To her, a man like that couldn’t be nothing but trouble.

“Girl, I’m good,” Janessa said.

“Nah. You trippin’, is what you is,” Chantelle huffed, turning her attention back to the stage.

—

“And now for a particularly special part the evening. My favorite, I might I add...”

Erik tuned out the sound of T’Challa’s voice. All he could focus on was the beautiful woman in white and the way her dark, umber colored skin glistened against her bright dress. Janessa. The woman he’d just spent over half an hour eating hot wings with. The woman he’d felt oddly comfortable with in such a short period of time. The same woman he let leave his presence without asking her out or at very least, getting her number.

To be honest, Erik didn’t usually have to ask. Women would sell their panties for a chance to get at him. He even had to keep a few beckies at arm’s distance throughout the night. But not her. She actually walked her fine, plump ass out of the kitchen without so much as a second glance back. It hit him in his ego, he’d had to admit. But it also made him more interested in her.

Erik moved from his spot on the wall, eying a way to get over to her.

“Hey—Wait a minute, aren’t you from Wakanda? A short, thin-lipped white man asked.

“No.” Erik said blankly, attempting to move past him.

“Yes! I remember seeing you with the King before. Wa...W’kabi, isn’t it?

“Hell nah,” Erik flared his nostrils. “Ain’t nobody ever tell you it’s rude to talk during presentations?”

“Oh! Well, I didn’t me—“

“Yeah, uh huh,” Erik said inching away. He scanned the room. I just had my eyes on her...

“...so let’s give a round of applause to our honoree, The 2019 Most Influential Community Leader of the Year, Janessa James!”

Erik snapped his neck around so fast he swore he heard it crack. He looked up to see Janessa on stage exchanging a handshake and hug with T’Challa.

—

“I’m so proud of my baby!” Chantelle squeezed her arms around Janessa’s neck. “The best Director East Oakland Community Outreach Center has ever seen and now being honored by the King? My bestie is a bad boosh!”

“Thanks, girl!” Janessa hugged her back just as tight. “But you know we all put in hella work for the community. What would I do without my Assistant Director, holding me down?”

“Well, shit let me hold the award then.” She said taking the plaque from her bestie.

“Congratulations, Janessa!” Shuri hugged her from behind. “I’m so glad you and the center are getting the exposure you deserve!”

“I should be thanking you too. All you’ve done with helping us start the STEM program,” Janessa beamed at the teenage genius.

Shuri shot her a big smile. She had spent the last year partnering with the East Oakland Community Outreach Center. Her work introduced the youth in the community to STEM education they wouldn’t regularly have access to in their underfunded school system. She loved the center and had built meaningful relationships with so many of the people there.

“You are too kind. You know, I...” Shuri turned around slowly, feeling a large yet familiar presence behind her.

“Congratulations. I didn’t know you were being awarded tonight,” Erik said to Janessa, slowly moving his cousin out of the way.

“How do you two know each other?” Shuri questioned.

“We met earlier,” Erik replied, not taking his eyes off Janessa.

“There he goes with that staring again,” Chantelle teased as she moved to greet him. “I’m Chantelle. Janessa’s best friend.” She extended a hand to him.

He smiled and took it. “Erik.”

“MMhmmp! Look at those dimples. Deep enough to hide from the police in,” She chirped.

Janessa chuckled. Her friend was so damn extra.

Erik turned his attention back to Janessa. He look her over slowly and licked his juicy lips. “I was thinking, since we had such a good time earlier, how about I treat you to a real meal?” He ran his knuckle down the length of her arm.

Janessa raised an eyebrow at him, flicking his finger off of her. “Uh, no. I’m good,” she scoffed.

Erik and Chantelle both cocked their necks back.

“You good?”

“Yeah.”

“I mean, are you busy or something? Cause I can do lunch too.”

“No. Well, I am a busy woman. But that’s not why I’m not interested. I just...don’t want to.”

“You don’t want to? Why?” Erik was genuinely confused. He did not expect her to turn him down. “I thought we were vibin’ back there.”

“We had a nice little conversation. A cute time. But that doesn’t mean I owe you a date.” Janessa said in a harsh tone.

“And I—oop.” Shuri yelped.

Chantelle’s jaw damn near hit the floor. She knew her friend to pull no punches with men but she was laying it on extra thick with Erik.

“Come on, baby girl.” Erik ran a hand over his hair. “You serious right now?”

“As a heart attack, baby boy.”

Erik furrowed his brows.

“Well, we’ve got to get going. Bye Shuri. I’ll see you later,” Janessa gave Shuri a quick hug.

She gave Erik a cold once over and turned back at Shuri. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

She grabbed Chantelle, whose mouth was still wide open, and headed towards to exit. Erik stood there, still thrown off at the scene that just played out.

Shuri exploded with laughter. “Now, N’Jadaka. I thought you said you had ‘the juice’.”

She patted her baffled cousin on the back and walked away, still giggling.

—

“BITCH, what the hell?” Chantelle pressed hand to Janessa’s forehead. “Did you bump your head or some shit? That fine ass man just asked you out. Not only did you decline, but you left that poor baby with half his face on the floor,” She laid her head back against the seat, still in shock at her friends actions.

“He’s a grown ass man. He’ll be just fine. And like I said to you and him, I’m good,” Janessa bent down to remove her heels. “I know his type. Arrogant. Smooth. And rude as fuck. Talking about ‘Let me treat you to a meal.’ Because I’m a big girl, I must want to eat? Tuh! And did you see him touch me? Uh, uh. He’s probably used to having his way with women.”

“If I were you, I would have let him have his way with me,” Chantelle retorted.

“I’d rather not be number ‘umpeenth’ on his hit it and quit it list.”

“That‘s a damn shame,” Chantelle shook her head. “He look like he got good dick. The kind you need right about now. That ‘let him drop you off at your job in your car’ kind of dick.”

“Well, I guess we’ll never find out.”

“Speak for yourself. I’ma see if his ass is on BLK.” Chantelle pulled out her phone and stated swiping through her apps.

Janessa gave her a vicious side-eye.

“OKAY. I’m was just playing, damn.” Chantelle said as putting her phone away. She pulled out the parking lot and headed back towards their neighborhood.

—

Janessa pushed her large black rimmed glasses further up her face and streched her body in her plush office chair. She rubbed her hands down her high waisted olive colored pants and adjusted her long-sleeved, cream colored wrap top. She sighed as she pulled her long ponytail of locs over her shoulder. The center was preparing for its Annual Juneteenth Celebration. Which meant more work added to her already full schedule. But she couldn’t complain too much. It was her favorite event of the year. The whole block came out; youth, elders, and everyone in between. They’d have spades and uno games going. Basketball and baseball competitions. And a huge cookout, where the women would argue over who made the best potato salad while the men drank Coronas and grilled meat. But the best part was the ending ceremony. Everyone would meet in the basement of the center. One of the griots would tell stories of their ancestors and their survival through middle passage and slavery. The youth would give dance performances and skits, inspired by the favorite Black icons and moments in history. At the end, they would pray and sing songs to pay respect and homage to those that came before them. It was a beautiful day and never failed to bring Janessa to tears. Seeing her culture celebrated so proudly across generations really touched her heart.

A small knock at her door shook her out of her thoughts.

“Come in.”

“Hey, boss lady,” Chantelle smiled, walking into the office. She sat down in one of the chairs in front her friend’s crowded desk.

“Hey, Channy,” Janessa said, “What’s up?”

“Derek just checked today’s delivery. The order for the sports equipment was short.”

“Short? That’s not possible. I doubled checked the numbers myself,” Janessa furrowed her brows. “Did they mix up the order or something.”

“Nope. We both checked the invoice. I wasn’t a mistake on their end.”

“That can’t be right…” Janessa let out a deep sigh. She pressed a button on her office phone, buzzing her assistant. “Tandy, can you come here for a second?”

She was met with low giggles and whispers from the other end.

“Tandy?” She said a little louder.

“Oh! Hey, what‘s up?”

“I asked if can you come into my office.”

“Um yeah, hold on.”

Tandy entered Janessa office holding her cell in her hand. She was tall, slim and light-brown skin with a short brown TWA.

“You rang?” She said in a sing-songy voice.

Chantelle groaned.

“You ordered the sports equipment, right?”

“Yeah, I did. Why?”

“Well, only about half came. And based on the invoice, it’s because the wrong order was placed. Did you order thirty, like I asked?”

“Thirty? Girl, I thought you said thirteen. My bad.”

Janessa rubbed the bridge of her nose.

Chantelle gave Tandy a wide-eyed look.

“Tandy. I sent it in an email. And I told you in person. Twice.”

“Ohh, Pffhhtt! I don’t be checking that email like that,” Tandy let out a short laugh. “You want me to order more?”

“No, Tandy,” Janessa tried to remain calm and professional. “They wouldn’t be here in time anyways. I’ll take care of it.”

She shrugged. “Okaay. Well, do you need anything else from me?”

“No, that’s all.”

“Cool. I’ma go head and take my lunch then,” She exited the office, giggling at something on her phone as she closed the door.

Janessa threw her head back and let out a loud groan.

“I swear that girl is gonna be the death of me.”

“I don’t know how you deal with it. Between all the attitude and incompetence. Girl I can’t,” Chantelle shook her head in disbelief.

“Who you telling? If it’s not her constantly messing something up, she’s flirting with any breathing body that walk through the door,” Janessa rolled her eyes. “Last week I caught her getting fresh with the damn UPS man. And don’t get me started on the volunteer sign up. She ‘forgot’ to update the dates on the form and now we’re short-handed for this weekend.”

“Two words: New Assistant.”

Janessa sighed, “I know, I know. But I’m trying to give her a chance, you know? She’s young and needs experience. And you know it’s hard for us. What’s the point of me being in this position if not to put other Black women on?”

“I hear you. But for one, she’s not that much younger than us. And for two, she obviously doesn’t take her job seriously. I get your trying be patient and understanding, but you got to consider the big picture. It seems like she’s adding more stress to your load than anything.”

“Yeah, you’ve got a point,” Janessa rolled her lips, looking off into the distance.

“Listen,” Chantelle rubbed her hands over her knee-length black dress. “There’s something else I needed to talk to you about.”

“Okay. What is it?”

“That whole scene the other night, at the gala.”

“Girl, I know you’re not still on that.”

“Yeah, well you were kind of doing the most, friend. What was up with that?”

“I told you. I don’t trust guys like him.”

“But you don’t know him,” Chantelle said. “He could be a decent guy. I mean, he was cool enough for you to eat chicken wings with. What could a date hurt?”

“Why are you defending him? You don’t know him either.”

“I’m not defending him. I’m looking out for you,” She scooted closer to the desk, looking Janessa in the eyes. “I’ve seen you shut down almost ever guy who shows any kind of interest in you. I know men can be trash but you don’t have to give up on all of them. Everybody isn’t Andrew.”

Janessa shifted uncomfortably at the sound of her ex-boyfriend’s name. “What does he have to do with anything?”

“I mean you haven’t really dated anyone seriously since him. And it’s been years now.”

“So what? Being single is a problem? Turning down some stupid ass niggas who just want to waste my time is wrong?” She scowled in a defensive tone.

“No. It’s just...I worry about you sometimes. I know between dealing with Drew and what happened with you dad, it’s been hard for you to—.”

“I said, I’m fine. Okay?” Janessa fingered the sun-shaped pendant on her necklace. ”Look, I need to pick up this equipment while I have some extra time.”

“Nessa, I’m didn’t mean to upset you,” Chantelle grabbed her hand.

“I’m cool,” Janessa snatched her hand back. She stood up, grabbing her denim jacket and purse. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

Chantelle sighed, walking out of the office with her. “Okay.”

—

Janessa rushed through Joyner’s Sporting Goods, one of the only Black-owned sporting good stores in the city. She hated last minute shopping. But she obviously couldn’t trust her assistant with a simple task. Plus, she needed to get out the office. Chantelle’s comments had gotten to her. She knew she meant well, but her relationship with Andrew was a sensitive topic for her. He was her first everything, including her first heartbreak. She met him right after her father passed. He took advantage of her vulnerability and insecurity, always insinuating she wasn’t pretty enough or needed to lose weight. In the end, he winded up leaving her for some chick he was sleeping with while they were still together. Janessa was a complete mess after that. Chantelle was the one who helped her keep it all together. She didn’t have any other family around since her father was basically a single parent. Chantelle was even the one who encouraged her to start volunteering at the center in the first place. She was all Janessa had.

“Damn. I should have gotten a cart.” Janessa said as she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. She shifted the stuff in her arms around to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey. Just checking your ETA. We still have some details we need you to finalize for this weekend.” Chantelle said through the phone.

“I’m still in Joyner’s but I should be finished soon,” Janessa sighed, shuffling her weight between her feet. “Channy, I’m sorry about earlier. I know I was a little rude. It’s just all that stuff...I don’t have time for it right now.”

“Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have brought it up while you were working. I was just concerned,” she said.

“I know. And I appreciate it. You’re always looking out for me.”

“And you know this,” Chantelle joked. “For both you and your lil nani, at this point. Because I’m concerned for her too.”

Janessa let out a loud laugh. She turned around to continue her shopping and smacked right into a shelf, knocking everything out of her arms.

“Shit,” Janessa yelped.

“You okay?” Chantelle asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Janessa sighed, trying to balance her phone between her shoulder and ear as she kneeled down. “I just need to hurry up and get out of here.“

“You need some help?”

Janessa looked up in the direction of a familiar voice. Standing there was Erik, with a smug little smirk on his handsome face. He wore a black hoodie that read ‘Lost Tribe’, black basketball shorts, and all black Air Max 90’s. His locs hung loosely to one side.

“Aw hell,” She whispered, still crouched down. “Not you.”

“Look Too Tough, I’m just trying to help. With your short, little arms I don’t think you can hold all that and run ya mouth on the phone at the same time,” He teased, leaning on his shopping cart.

“Huh? Who was that?” Chantelle questioned.

“Nobody. I’ll talk to you later,” Janessa quickly hung up and turned her attention back to Erik. “Too tough? Really nigga?”

“Yea, cause that’s how you was acting the other night,” He grinned, his gold slugs gleaming.

“Whatever,” She tried to grab some of her stuff off the floor. “I’m good, I got it.”

“You good,” Erik mocked, squatting down to help her. “What you need with all these toys, anyways? You got kids?”

“And if I do? Will that get you to leave me alone?”

“Nah. Kids love me,” He placed a couple of baseball bats in the cart.

Janessa rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. “Well, for your information, nosey. I don’t have any kids. These are for the center I work at.”

“Riight. Director of the East Oakland Community Outreach Center. Most Influential Community Leader of the Year.”

“You’ve been stalking me or something?”

Erik chuckled, “No, but I do tend to research things that interest me.”

Janessa snorted, rolling her eyes harder. “You’re laying it on pretty thick there, sir.”

”I could say the same for you and all your attitude, ma’am.”

Janessa let out a long sigh. This nigga got an answer for everything.

“Look, I still have more shopping to get done and other places to be. So, I can’t stand here and chat with you all day.”

“Cool, me too. Let’s go.” Erik grabbed the cart, and turned around. He pushed it towards the next aisle. Janessa reluctantly followed. She didn’t really need a shopping buddy but that didn’t stop Erik from grabbing her shopping list and picking things out. She attempted to regain control over her shopping trip but Erik wasn’t having it. Eventually she relented, figuring it was easier to let him take over instead of fighting him in the middle of the store. She tried to keep the conversation at a minimum but that was damn near impossible with all the questions he asked. Eventually, she told him more about her work at the center, including the Juneteenth Celebration. He told her that he owned and operated his own fitness studio, which made sense as to why he seem to know the store like back of his hand. And why he was built like a fucking brick wall. Janessa had to catch herself from staring at his body every time he turned away or bent down. But before she realized it, she found herself actually enjoying his company. Well, for a second time.

They both checked out and headed towards the parking lot. Janessa unlocked her car and popped the trunk. Erik pulled the shopping cart towards it and loaded her bags inside.

“Thanks,” she said jingling her keys in her hands.

“No problem,” Erik closed the trunk. “Honestly, I’m surprised you’re letting me help you, Too Tough.”

Janessa laughed at the nickname this time. “Are you always this corny?”

“You could find out if you let me take you on a proper date.”

“Haven’t we done this already?”

“Yeah, when you shot me down in front of all those people and left me heartbroken in the middle of the floor. Only to twirl away and out the door with your friend,” Erik recited, dramatically flaring his hands. “Yet here I am, brave enough to try again. You gonna go easy on a nigga this time?”

Janessa rolled her eyes. “That was me being easy on you.”

Erik let out a light laugh, “I couldn’t tell. I mean damn, ma. You act like I got the cooties or something.”

Janessa noticed his face soften a little. She sighed. “Listen, I got a lot going on right now. Things have been crazy hectic at work. And this weekend is approaching fast. I have tons of things to do. Paperwork to review. Hella meetings to attend. And I still have to figure out how to replace the volunteers we lost,” Janessa took a long breath to stop her ranting. “I don’t have the time for this.”

“Volunteers?”

“Yeah, we’re short a bunch of volunteers for the celebration.”

“Hmm,” Erik rub his hand through his beard. “You know, I’m free this weekend.”

“What?”

“I’m saying, I can stop by and help out. Whatever you need.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. On one condition, though.” Erik moved closer and lowered himself to meet her height, his nose almost touching hers. The scent of his cologne teased Janessa’s nostrils. Damnit, he smells good.

“And what’s that?” She said, bringing herself back to the conversation.

“You agree to go out with me.”

Janessa squinted her eyes at him. She wasn’t in a position to turn down volunteers, especially if she wanted this event to go off without a hitch.

Erik raised an eyebrow at her, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“Fine. I’m sure your brolic ass could help with some of the heavy lifting.”

Erik shot her a big grin and licked his lips. “Perfect.”

Janessa gave him the center’s contact information and a copy of the event flyer before getting into her car.

“Aight, Too Tough. I’ll see you this weekend.” Erik said.

She pursed her lips lightly. “See you, Erik.”

He winked and jogged off in the opposite direction.

Janessa started her car and pulled out the lot. As she drove, her thoughts drifted to Erik. His persistence was annoying as fuck. But at the same time, kind of cute? She thought about what Chantelle said earlier. Maybe she could give him a chance. It’s just one date.

She let out a deep sigh. The whole thing still made her feel uneasy. Erik was a charming motherfucker. She knew that too much of him and she’d be like Jill Scott, singing about grits and shit.

She clutched her necklace, fiddling with the sun-shaped pendant.

It was going to be an interesting weekend.

——

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