#been struggling to write ***** and ********* ** for months and needed to try writing something else so I decided to dabble with this

[dduane]

Do you have any recommendations on what to do when you can’t write?

I’ve been struggling to write for years, but telling stories is all I want to do. I have ideas and plots and characters all figured out! But actually getting the words onto paper? I just can’t do it. There’s a mental block or something getting in the way.

I want to write, I so badly do. I want to tell my stories! But no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I love the story, the words never work properly. I can day dream scenes up perfectly, but as soon as I’m near paper the words all vanish.

I guess what I’m actually asking is: how did you defeat the blank page?

Well, first of all, I can confidently tell you that your storytelling per se is working just fine. You just told me a perfectly cogent story right there, in writing. So that's good to know.

Now let me put your mind a little at rest by telling you something reassuring about the Writer's Brain:

It's not the sharpest knife in the block, if you take my meaning. It can be tricked. It can be fooled. It can be bamboozled into working when it doesn't want to... sometimes with embarrassing ease. (And this approach is, by and large, far preferable to sitting around over-analyzing one's interior life to figure out what went wrong with your developmental process somewhere in the dim lost past. Just hornswoggle the silly thing into working and then do the analysis later, if you can be bothered.)

Sometimes just changing something basic in the process the Writer's Brain is expecting is enough to make it lose the plot (so to speak...) and let you get on with work. And in your case I'd say, more or less immediately: Have you tried telling the story to yourself out loud, recording it, and then transcribing the recording?

Because this problem is a commonplace among storytellers. Sit them down in the pub and give them tea or a drink and start them going, and you'll get half an effortless hour of hilarious prose about What The Cat Did In The Middle Of The Night or When The Neighbors Were Fighting In The Street Again Yesterday. But show them blank paper, or an empty screen, and (now that the pressure to perform is suddenly in place) they freeze.

So try doing an end run around your writing brain. Borrow or otherwise procure a little recorder of some kind. (Or if you've got a smartphone, add a voice recording app to it.) Go get comfortable somewhere and get yourself into that daydream state, and then—making sure the recorder's on—start talking.

It doesn't have to be perfect unblemished prose. The pursuit of that comes later, after draft zero-minus-one. Just tell the story... or some of it. Or a fragment of it. Even a few paragraphs is a triumph, in a situation like this. You may, during the recording, have to talk yourself into the story stage by starting out talking about something else first. Let that happen.

Then when you're done recording, listen to it and transcribe it (typed or handwritten, as you please).

And maybe a day later, do this again. And a day or two later, once more. And so forth.

You're going to have to keep at this, because your Writer's Brain may start suspecting what you're up to, and try throwing spanners into the works. (Its favorite being "Oh, this isn't working, I may as well give up..." Pay no attention to that nagging little voice behind the curtain. Just keep doing what you're doing. Persistence is a superpower.)

The thing to keep reminding yourself, as you settle into this process, is that sooner or later the WB's resistance is going to flag, because you really do want to tell stories. It does too. What you have to teach it is that—to coin a phrase—resistance is useless. :)

Anyway: give this a try. You'll need to be doing this daily for at least a couple of months to find out whether it works or not. So let me know how it goes.

(BTW: once you've broken through the barrier, you may well find that dictation is a good routine way for you to generate your first draft. At that point—should you feel inclined to go a little higher-tech than recording and hand transcription—let me recommend Dragon Anywhere. This is a month-to-month subscription version of Dragon's flagship text to speech program—the one @petermorwood and I got Terry Pratchett to use when he started having difficulty typing. I use Anywhere a lot, on days when it's easier to write stretched out or lying down than it is sitting up. It transcribes what you say, and then you can just email it to yourself and cut-and-paste it into your writing document. Very handy.)

Hope this helps!

#writing #writing advice #the Writer's Brain #storytelling

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

My Missing Piece

616!Wanda x 199999!Fem!Reader

Summary: You've lost your wife Wanda. Leaving you alone with your twin boys to try and pick up the pieces. What happens when the Scarlet Witch comes looking for her boys?

Word Count: 10.4K

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, R calls W Mommy, W uses pet names, enchanted strap use, Dom!Wanda, sub!reader, overstimulation, magic restraints, depressive thoughts/episodes.

A/N: Made this forever ago and forgot about it until like two days ago lol. I really liked the idea of this so I hope you guys enjoy~ Also I decided that world 199999 (which was the original MCU world number before MoM turned it to 616) is just a parallel world where no one died :)

Every night after tucking my boys, Billy and Tommy in to bed, I have a bit of me time. Sometimes I watch TV, sometimes I'll scroll through social media on my phone, sometimes I'll write because I was told that was supposed to help with grief, it hasn't so far, what helps the most is when I talk to her before bed, "I miss you Wands...our boys miss you too...of course they love their Mama, but you're their Mommy. You carried them for nine months, you were in labor for just over a day." Tommy was born first 12 minutes ahead of his brother Billy. "You gave so much for our boys and our life here and I wish you had never said yes to that mission after all these years..." I break down, quiet sobs wrack me as I curl up on her side of the bed. It still smells like her.

I let sleep take me as I have the same dream I do every night. Wanda, but not Wanda...some twisted version of her with black fingers, and she just seems off, but she's searching, as if she can see me? She's looking for our boys. Every morning just as she finds me, us, I wake up. Dried tears on my cheeks and my eyes red. The bags under my eyes have never been darker, but I cover them up as I get out of bed to start yet another day without my wife.

The alarm blares through the quiet of the room, jolting me awake from my restless slumber. With a heavy sigh, I reach over to silence it, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Another day begins, much like every other since she left us.

I stumble out of bed, the weight of grief still heavy on my shoulders as I move through the motions of the morning routine. It's a struggle to keep it together, but I have to be strong for Billy and Tommy. They need me, even though every fiber of my being aches for her presence.

As I make my way downstairs, the memories flood back, hitting me like a tidal wave. Wanda was always the light in our lives, her laughter echoing through the halls, her warmth enveloping us like a comforting embrace. But now, there's only emptiness.

I try to push the thoughts aside as I prepare breakfast for the boys, forcing a smile as they bound into the kitchen, their youthful energy a stark contrast to my own weariness. They chatter excitedly about school and friends, oblivious to the pain that lingers beneath the surface.

After they've eaten and headed off to catch the bus, I sink into the solitude of the empty house once more. It's in these quiet moments that the ache is most palpable, the absence of her presence a constant reminder of all that we've lost.

I find myself drawn to her belongings, unable to resist the pull of her memory. Running my fingers over the familiar objects, I'm transported back to happier times, when our love felt invincible, untouchable by the darkness that now threatens to consume me.

But amidst the despair, there's a flicker of something else. A determination, a resolve to keep going, if not for myself then for her. She wouldn't want me to wallow in sorrow, to let the grief consume me. She'd want me to live, to cherish the memories we shared and find solace in the love that still remains.

With a deep breath, I push myself to my feet, wiping away the tears that threaten to fall. Today may be another struggle, another battle against the pain, but I refuse to let it defeat me. For Wanda, for our boys, I'll find the strength to carry on, one day at a time.

The day went by quickly and soon enough the boys were home filling up our home with noise once more,

"Boys homework first or no ice cream!" I call from the kitchen when I hear them start to fight over player one controller.

"Awww but Mama!" They whined.

"So you boys don't want ice cream tomorrow night either I see." I hear them grumble and then the TV go off, the sound of the dining room chairs scraping as I look over my shoulder to see they're working. "There are my good boys." I turn back smiling as I carry on with prepping dinner. Suddenly something feels off. A pit in my stomach starts forming and I feel eyes on me, not the boys though these feel predatory.

I look up and through the window I don't see my own reflection, I see Wanda, the same one I see in my dreams.

My heart leaps into my throat as I freeze, the knife in my hand forgotten as I stare wide-eyed at the impossible sight before me. It's her, but it's not. The twisted version from my nightmares, black fingers reaching out like tendrils of darkness, eyes filled with a hunger I can't comprehend.

I feel a chill run down my spine as her gaze locks onto mine, a shiver of fear coursing through my veins. Instinctively, I reach for the pendant hanging around my neck, fingers brushing against the smooth surface of the purple power stone embedded within. It's a comforting weight, a reminder of the power that pulses through me, but even it feels insignificant in the face of this apparition.

"What do you want?" I manage to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper. But she doesn't answer, only continues to stare, her presence suffocating in its intensity.

Desperation claws at the edges of my mind as I struggle to make sense of the situation. Is this some kind of illusion, a trick of the mind brought on by grief and exhaustion? Or is she truly here, some twisted echo of the woman I loved?

Before I can gather my thoughts, a sudden crash from the dining room snaps me back to reality. The boys, my precious boys, oblivious to the danger that lurks just beyond our walls. With a surge of adrenaline, I lunge forward, grabbing the nearest weapon within reach.

But as I turn back to face the window, she's gone, vanished into thin air like a wisp of smoke. The only evidence of her presence is the lingering sense of unease that hangs heavy in the air.

I rush to the dining room, relief flooding through me as I find the boys unharmed, their laughter filling the room once more. But even as I hold them close, a sense of dread lingers, a silent reminder that darkness still lurks just beyond the edges of our reality.

"Mama is everything okay?" Billy asks as I hold them, kissing the top of their heads.

"I just thought one of you got hurt. I'm happy you boys aren't." I lie to them as to not worry them, but Billy looks at me trying to search my thoughts. "Hey no mind reading little man." I ruffle his hair. "Everything is fine. If you boys are finished you can play one game, dinner will be ready in 15 minutes." The minutes tick by slowly as I finish preparing dinner, the aroma of comfort food filling the air. I glance at the clock, realizing that my boys are engrossed in their game, blissfully unaware of the turmoil swirling within me.

With a heavy sigh, I take a moment to compose myself before calling them to the table. As we gather for the meal, laughter and chatter resuming, I try to push the unsettling encounter out of my mind. But deep down, I know it's not over.

As we eat, the boys share stories from their day, their infectious joy momentarily easing the ache in my heart. I force a smile, savoring these small moments of normalcy in our fractured world.

After dinner, as the boys retreat to their rooms for the night, I find myself once again standing by the window, staring into the darkness beyond. The pit in my stomach returns, the unease settling in as I feel a presence lingering just out of sight.

The room is silent, save for the hum of the refrigerator and the distant sounds of the night. I close my eyes, summoning the courage to speak the words that linger on the tip of my tongue.

"Wanda, if you're out there, if you can hear me, please... don't hide. I don't know what's happening, but I can't face it alone. I need you, now more than ever." My voice trembles with a mix of desperation and longing.

The air remains still, the response elusive. I wait in silence, hoping for some sign, some reassurance that I'm not losing my mind. But the universe remains silent, withholding its secrets.

"Gods I feel like I'm going crazy Wands...how am I supposed to do this without you?" I feel the hot tears in my eyes, streak down my cheeks then suddenly a loud bang from the living room, the sound of a portal. "Stephan? Is that you?" It wasn't uncommon for Stephan Strange to pop in and check on me and the boys. Stephan had lost his love many years ago. Before I reach the living room, I hear the familiar sound of heels clicking on my hard wood flooring. Suddenly I'm standing face to face with the Wanda I've seen in my dreams...."W-Wands?" I questioned,

"A version. I've lost something precious to me and I've come to get it back." I look her over. It's Wanda, but not mine. As I get closer, Her hair is a different shade, her eyes are a little less of an emerald green and more of a sea green, this Wanda has a scar on her forehead, just above her left eyebrow.

"Oh...what has your universe done to you Detka?" I ask softly reaching out and she grabs my wrist with a force.

"It took everything from me." She seethed. "I want my boys back. I'm taking them." She tosses me aside like I'm nothing. Luckily with the power stone embedded in my chest. I push back, barreling back into her. Tackling her to the ground until I'm on top of her and it's then that she notices my stone, "You have the power stone...how? That's impossible. I've seen it kill people that touch it.

"I'm tough that's why my Wanda loved me." I had her pinned and used my own magic to subdue her. "I've been called the Violet Witch here for years. It became my code name."

"That can't be..." I give her a questioning look. "I'm the Scarlet Witch." She tells me, the scarlet witch? Wanda never said anything...? I stumble back off of her, reeling, "The Scarlet Witch." I let out a dry chuckle, "It makes sense, but I can't let you take my boys. If I loose them then That means I've lost my Wanda and them. I might as well die." I tell her,

"Wait so your Wanda is gone?" She asks. I nod,

"She was needed for a mission. I begged her not to go, we had retired from being Avengers 10 years ago when we found out she was pregnant. She told me everything would be fine. She promised me...and then suddenly I have Strange and Parker on my doorstep with Bucky and Sam behind them carry the casket." I feel my eyes blur as I walk over to the scarlet witch, "If you are another her then," I take her hands putting them up to my temples and ease my forehead onto her, letting my memories over the past ten years flood through her mind.

As our minds intertwine, I feel a rush of memories flooding into her consciousness. The love, the loss, the moments of joy and heartache that have shaped my existence since Wanda's departure. It's a whirlwind of emotions, a bittersweet symphony of love and grief that binds us together in ways I never thought possible.

For a moment, there's a flicker of recognition in her eyes, a glimmer of understanding amidst the chaos of her own turmoil. She sees the depth of my pain, the desperation to hold onto the fragments of a life that's slipping through my fingers.

But as quickly as it came, the moment passes, and she pulls away, her expression hardening once more. "I'm sorry for your loss," she says, her voice tinged with a hint of sympathy. "But my pain is just as real. I've lost everything too, and I'll do whatever it takes to reclaim what's mine."

I feel a pang of empathy for her, a shared sense of anguish that transcends the boundaries of our separate worlds. But beneath it all, there's a primal instinct, a fierce determination to protect my boys at all costs.

"I understand your pain," I reply, my voice steady despite the turmoil raging within. "But my boys are not yours to take. They belong here, with me, with their family."

She narrows her eyes, her resolve unwavering. "Then we're at an impasse," she says, her tone final. "I won't leave without them."

I take a step forward, meeting her gaze with steely determination. "Then I guess we'll just have to see who's stronger," I say, my voice echoing with a newfound resolve.

With that, the battle lines are drawn, two versions of Wanda Maximoff facing off against each other in a clash of wills and power. But amidst the chaos and uncertainty, one thing remains clear: no matter the outcome, I'll do whatever it takes to protect my boys and honor the memory of the woman I loved.

Her eyes meet mine, a mixture of pain and longing mirrored in their depths. The tear I wiped away lingers on her cheek, a testament to the shared sorrow we both carry. The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken emotions, and for a moment, time seems to hang suspended.

"I... I don't know if I can stay," she whispers, her voice choked with emotion. "But the offer, it means more than you can imagine. In my world, everything has crumbled, and I'm left with nothing but ashes and echoes of what once was."

I can feel the weight of her words, the burden of her grief, and I tighten my grip on her cheek, desperate to convey the sincerity of my plea. "Wanda, you don't have to face this alone. You're not just a version of her; you're your own person, with your own pain. But here, in this universe, you have a chance to rebuild, to find a new kind of family."

She opens her eyes, the sea-green gaze locking onto mine. There's a vulnerability in her expression, a crack in the stoic facade she wears. "I'm so tired," she admits, a raw honesty in her voice. "Tired of loss, tired of fighting. Maybe... maybe it's time for a different path."

A tentative smile plays on her lips, and my heart skips a beat. I wipe away another tear, this time a tear of relief. "You don't have to decide now," I say softly. "Take the time you need. But know that here, you have people who care, people who understand loss and are willing to help you carry the burden."

The room seems to brighten, as if the weight of the universe has lifted, if only for a moment. And in that moment, I see a glimmer of hope, a possibility for healing and connection that transcends the boundaries of our fractured worlds.

"I need to know one thing." She speaks, "Is Vision alive?" my brows furrow together.

"Vision? Who is that?" I ask genuinely confused.

"Wait...how did we meet here?" She asks.

"Oh well we met in Sokovia. We were protesting Stark together at a rally. Your brother flirted with me first and I never let him live that down especially when I married you and he was my best man." I smile at the memory. "Anyways, we were approached by Hydra and experimented on. They had the mind stone and the power stone. You and Pietro were exposed to the mind stone and I was too, but nothing happened unlike you two so they put me in a room with the power stone. It decided my chest was it's forever home. I ended up breaking us out from the Hydra base with the help of the Avengers who had caught word of the base. The three of us joined the Avengers and the rest is history." I tell her.

"So no Ultron? Sokovia didn't fly in the air? What about the Sokovia accords?" She throws question after question.

"No idea what you're talking about love. We carried on doing small missions, taking down hydra and radicals, but the three of us spent a long time training before they let us out doing field work." I tell her.

"Three? Is...is Pietro..?" Her voice breaks.

"Alive? Yeah of course." She falls to her knees and starts sobbing.

"Mommy?" Billy is at the middle of the stairs and the look in Wanda's eyes.

"Yeah baby it's Mommy." Wanda opened her arms and the little speedster found his way into her arms." Her eyes spilling over tears.

"Mama said you weren't coming back." Billy whispered.

"Mama didn't think I was, but Mommy always finds a way back to her boys." Wanda pulls back and looks up at me. "I'm staying...how could I say no when this is just about the most perfect version I could ask for?" I smile and start crying again as Tommy joins us before I can even blink. "Our little quick silver." Wanda smiles hugging the boys, her boys.

Tears of relief blur my vision as I watch Wanda embrace our boys, her boys, with a tenderness that speaks volumes. Billy and Tommy cling to her, their small arms wrapping around her tightly as if afraid she'll disappear again if they let go. And in that moment, I realize that this is where she belongs, with us, her family.

I join them on the floor, wrapping my arms around them all, unable to contain the overwhelming flood of emotions that threatens to consume me. "Welcome home, Wanda," I whisper, my voice choked with tears.

She looks up at me, her eyes shining with gratitude and love. "Thank you," she says softly, her voice trembling with emotion. "For everything."

Together, we sit in the warmth of our embrace, a makeshift family forged from the ashes of our shared past. And as the night stretches on, I can't help but feel a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness, a belief that no matter what trials may come, as long as we have each other, we can weather any storm.

========================

The days blurred together in a haze of longing and uncertainty, each moment tinged with the ache of what could have been. Wanda's presence in our home was both a blessing and a curse, a constant reminder of the love I had lost and the impossibility of reclaiming what was once mine.

I watched her interact with the boys, her smile forced but genuine, her laughter a melody that echoed through the halls. And yet, beneath the surface, I could sense the weight of her own grief, the burden of a past that refused to let her go.

I tried to be strong, to be there for her and the boys, but every smile felt like a lie, every laugh a hollow echo of the joy we once shared. And in the darkness of the night, when sleep eluded me and the silence pressed in like a vice, I found myself haunted by memories of another Wanda, a version of her that existed only in my dreams.

She was so close, yet so far away, a phantom presence that taunted me with what could have been. I longed to reach out to her, to hold her close and whisper words of love and comfort. But she was gone, lost to me in a reality that no longer existed.

And so I forced myself out of bed each morning, steeling myself against the pain that threatened to consume me. I buried myself in the routines of daily life, seeking solace in the mundane tasks that kept me tethered to reality.

But no matter how hard I tried to push her memory away, she lingered in the shadows of my mind, a ghostly specter that refused to be forgotten. And as the days turned into weeks, I began to wonder if I would ever find peace, if I would ever be able to let go of the love that still bound me to her, even across the vast expanse of the multiverse.

My Wanda and I had always had a policy of no mind reading since we could both do it, but this Wanda pokes at my thoughts constantly. Reminds me to smile through telepathy. One morning after a really good dream with another Wanda I can't get myself out of bed. Everything is too much. I know I had told her I'd be fine, but I'm not.

"Come on Y/N. Time to get up." I turn away from her, curling up into a ball further. "Y/N? What's wrong?" She asks.

"Nothing just tired. Just tell the boys I don't feel good. I need a Mama's day. So they can have a Mommy day. Take them out, get them ice cream. Do whatever you want." I grumble.

"Okay..." I close my eyes, letting myself drift back off just needed to see her again.

I don't know how much time has past when I'm being woken up, "Detka...come on wake up." My eyes blink into focus as I look at Wanda sitting above me and smile, forgetting my reality for a moment before my smile drops.

"What?" I ask.

"I dropped the boys off with their uncle for the weekend." I sit up straight,

"You did what!?" I screech.

"I left them with Pietro for the weekend. He was more than happy to have a boys weekend. Something about taking them to the lake?" Wanda mentions.

"He takes them every summer, usually it's a family thing and we all go." I tell Wanda.

"Well I figured you needed a Mommy and me weekend. I want to take you out. I want to get to know you. I already know my boys, but you. You're different, new, you aren't like Vision. You're human." She cups my cheek, smiling and I know it's a genuine smile. "I'm sure you've been feeling neglected and I wanted to try and do this sooner, but the boys were too excited to have me back." She says as I lean into her touch, Gods how I missed her touch. Though her fingers were no longer black her nails seemed to permanently stay black which made me laugh as I compared it to her emo phase which apparently this Wanda had one too.

"Thank you," I whisper, my voice catching in my throat. "For understanding."

She smiles, a warmth in her eyes that belies the weight of her own pain. "We're in this together. You don't have to carry the burden alone."

With her words echoing in my mind, I find the strength to push myself out of bed, to face the day with renewed determination. Wanda's offer of a Mommy and me weekend is a lifeline, a chance to rediscover myself amidst the chaos of grief and longing.

As we spend the day together, exploring the city and sharing stories of our pasts, I feel a sense of peace settle over me, a reassurance that maybe, just maybe, there's still hope for a future filled with love and laughter.

And as the sun sets on our day together, I realize that while Wanda may not be my Wanda, she's still a beacon of light in the darkness, a reminder that even in our darkest moments, there's always someone willing to stand by our side, to offer a hand to hold and a shoulder to lean on.

With her by my side, I know that no matter what the future may hold, I'll never have to face it alone. And as we head home, the weight of grief feels a little lighter, the shadows a little less daunting, as we embrace the possibility of a new beginning, together.

When we got back home, I pulled her to the couch, "Time to watch sitcoms." I tell her and her face lights up.

"Dick Van Dyke?" She asks.

"No Detka. I want to show you my favorite this time. It's a more modern one. It's an animated sitcom though is that okay?" I ask, realizing this Wanda maybe never experienced animated and only enjoyed live action ones.

"Of course dorogoya." Her accent popping out sent a wave through me that landed between my legs.

"O-okay good." I say and get 'Bob's Burgers' playing. As the show starts I settle in with a slight distance between us, but she pulls me in against her side.

"Is this okay dorogoya?" She asks looking down at me.

"Y-yeah...of course." I move slight, readjusting to get comfortable as we fit together like two missing puzzle pieces and I let out a sigh of relief, that feels like so much weight is taken off my shoulders.

As the episodes of "Bob's Burgers" played on, I found myself relaxing into Wanda's embrace, the tension that had been coiled tight within me slowly unraveling with each passing moment. Her warmth seeped into my bones, a comforting presence that chased away the lingering shadows of doubt and fear.

With her by my side, the laughter that bubbled up from the screen felt genuine, a reflection of the newfound camaraderie we shared. And as I stole glances at her profile, illuminated by the soft glow of the television, I couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the moment, the simplicity of just being together.

Her laughter mingled with mine, the sound music to my ears, a symphony of joy that filled the room with warmth and light. And as the credits rolled on the final episode, I turned to her, a smile playing at the corners of my lips.

"Thank you," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "For today. For everything."

She returned my smile, her eyes shimmering with affection. "Anytime. I'm here for you, always."

I sat there staring at her, getting lost in her eyes so much that I don't even realize that she's leaning in until she's inches from my lips, she stops and I can feel her breath on me, my own hitching,

"Is this okay dorogoya?" She whispers in a husk against my lips.

"Y-yes." I manage out as she kisses me softly at first, testing the waters, but soon enough she's kissing hungrily, like she's starving for my taste now that's she's had a nibble. My fingers find their way into her hair, getting tangled in her auburn locks. One of her hands is on the back of my neck and the other is on my hip, gripping tightly, I can feel her nails digging in.

The world falls away as our lips meet in a fiery embrace, a collision of passion and longing that ignites every nerve ending in my body. Her kiss is intoxicating, a whirlwind of desire and need that sweeps me away in a tide of sensation.

I lose myself in the taste of her, the feel of her lips moving against mine with a hunger that mirrors my own. Our breath mingles in the space between us, hot and heavy with unspoken desire, as the intensity of our embrace grows with each passing moment.

Her hands are everywhere at once, trailing fire along my skin as she pulls me closer, her touch igniting a wildfire of sensation within me. I cling to her desperately, losing myself in the dizzying whirl of pleasure that consumes us both.

Time loses all meaning as we surrender to the passion that binds us together, lost in a world of our own making where nothing else matters but the fiery connection that burns between us.

And as we finally break apart, breathless and trembling, I find myself drowning in the depths of her gaze, a silent promise of more to come lingering in the air between us.

In that moment, I know that this is just the beginning of our journey together, a journey filled with love, passion, and endless possibility. And as we cling to each other in the aftermath of our shared passion, I can't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unexpected twist of fate that brought us together.

User

"Bed. Now." Her eyes lit up red for a moment. My Wanda had never been dominate, but this Wanda before me exuded dominance. I didn't waste any time getting up the stairs with her hot on my tail as we crashed into the bedroom, stumbling to the bed in a heat of kisses as she took the leading role.

The air crackled with electricity as we stumbled into the bedroom, our lips locked in a frenzy of passion and desire. Wanda's presence was intoxicating, her aura radiating power and dominance in a way I had never experienced before. And as she took the lead, pushing me onto the bed with a hunger that sent shivers down my spine, I felt myself surrendering to the raw intensity of the moment.

Her kisses were demanding, igniting a fire within me that burned hotter with each passing second. I moaned against her lips, my fingers tangling in her hair as I lost myself in the heat of the moment. Her touch was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through my body as she explored every inch of my skin with a hunger that left me breathless.

With each caress, each whispered word of desire, I felt myself falling deeper under her spell, my body responding eagerly to her every touch. And as she claimed me as her own, I surrendered to the overwhelming tide of sensation, losing myself in the ecstasy of our shared passion.

In that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of pleasure and desire where nothing else mattered but the intoxicating connection that bound us together. And as we moved as one, bodies entwined in a symphony of passion, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together, a journey filled with love, lust, and endless possibility.

The sensation of relinquishing control, of surrendering completely to someone else's will, was both exhilarating and liberating. As I basked in the warmth of Wanda's dominance, I found myself embracing a side of myself that I had long suppressed, a side that craved the thrill of submission and surrender.

With each touch, each whispered command, I felt myself sinking deeper into the abyss of pleasure, my mind consumed by a haze of ecstasy that left me breathless and yearning for more. And as Wanda took the lead, guiding me with a firm yet gentle hand, I found myself surrendering to the overwhelming tide of sensation, losing myself in the intoxicating dance of pleasure and desire.

In her arms, I felt safe, cherished, and utterly alive, my body responding eagerly to her every touch and caress. And as we moved together in a symphony of passion and desire, I embraced the freedom that came with letting go, allowing myself to be swept away by the currents of our shared passion.

For in that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of blissful surrender where nothing else mattered but the exquisite pleasure of our connection. And as we surrendered to the ecstasy of our shared desire, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together, a journey filled with exploration, discovery, and boundless pleasure.

"Ah...Wands..." A smack hit my thigh making me jolt and yelp.

"That's not my name Detka." I feel my stomach flip. I call her this all the time. I have for years now, but never in this setting. Another smack and then her teeth find my skin, biting and sucking harshly, marking me.

"Mommy!" I can feel the smirk against my thigh.

"Good girl. Go on. Show me how needy you are baby girl." Her fingers find themselves between my folds as I move my hips against them.

The sensation of her touch sent shivers of pleasure coursing through me, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing moment. I arched my back, pressing against her fingers as they explored the depths of my desire, teasing and tantalizing with a skill that left me trembling with need.

"Please," I whimpered, the word spilling from my lips in a desperate plea for more. Her touch was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through my body as she pushed me to the brink of ecstasy.

With each caress, each stroke, I felt myself teetering on the edge of oblivion, my senses overwhelmed by the intensity of our shared passion. And as she whispered words of encouragement, urging me to let go and surrender to the pleasure that awaited, I felt myself surrendering completely to the overwhelming tide of sensation.

In that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of blissful abandon where nothing else mattered but the exquisite pleasure of our connection. And as I succumbed to the ecstasy of our shared desire, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together, a journey filled with passion, intensity, and boundless pleasure.

The sensation of Wanda's magic enveloping my wrists sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through me, a tangible reminder of her power and dominance. I tested the restraints, feeling the firm hold of her magic as it kept me securely in place, my heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and arousal.

"Safe word. Green, yellow, red. Green is keep going, yellow slow down, red is stop." Wanda husked.

"Green, yellow, red," I echoed, committing the safe words to memory as a reassurance of our mutual trust and consent. With each breath, each whispered command, I felt myself sinking deeper into the heady haze of pleasure, surrendering completely to the overwhelming tide of sensation.

As Wanda continued to explore my body with a skillful touch that left me trembling with need, I surrendered myself to the ecstasy of our shared desire, knowing that in her arms, I was safe, cherished, and utterly alive.

And as the intensity of our passion grew with each passing moment, I found myself teetering on the edge of oblivion, my senses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of our connection. In that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of blissful abandon where nothing else mattered but the exquisite pleasure of our shared desire.

I don't think there is a place she hasn't marked on me in some way and after hours of edging until I couldn't form sentences she finally let me release. A string of moans ripping through me as the most intense waves roll over me as I drown in them, covered in sweat and her marks.

As the waves of pleasure washed over me, leaving me trembling and spent, I basked in the afterglow of our shared passion, my body still tingling with the echoes of our ecstasy. But just when I thought the intensity had peaked, I felt something pressing against my entrance, a sensation that sent a jolt of anticipation coursing through me.

I gasped, my body instinctively tensing as Wanda's touch ignited a new wave of desire within me. Her fingers teased and tantalized, exploring the depths of my desire with a skill that left me breathless and eager for more.

With each gentle thrust, I felt myself opening up to her, surrendering completely to the overwhelming tide of sensation. The pleasure was exquisite, a symphony of ecstasy that echoed through every fiber of my being as I lost myself in the blissful abandon of our shared desire.

And as Wanda continued to guide me with a firm yet gentle hand, I surrendered myself to the pleasure of our connection, knowing that in her arms, I was safe, cherished, and utterly alive. In that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of blissful abandon where nothing else mattered but the exquisite pleasure of our shared desire.

Wanda soon enough needed more and so did I, "Faster...ha-ah...harder..." My breath hot against her, panting like a dog and that gave her the perfect opportunity to place her fingers in my mouth, gaging me with them, but I loved every second as I sucked on them, moaning against them as I tasted myself on them from earlier.

The sensation of Wanda's fingers in my mouth sent a thrill of arousal coursing through me, a heady mixture of pleasure and desire that left me panting and eager for more. With each thrust, each gasp of pleasure, I eagerly sucked on her fingers, tasting myself on them from earlier.

The taste was intoxicating, a symphony of desire that heightened the intensity of our connection as we moved together in perfect harmony. And as Wanda responded to my pleas with a fervor that mirrored my own, I surrendered myself to the pleasure of our shared desire, knowing that in her arms, I was safe, cherished, and utterly alive.

With each thrust, I felt myself teetering on the edge of oblivion, my senses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of our passion. And as we reached the peak of ecstasy together, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey, a journey filled with passion, intensity, and boundless pleasure.

In that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of blissful abandon where nothing else mattered but the exquisite pleasure of our shared desire. And as we surrendered ourselves to the ecstasy of our connection, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together, a journey filled with love, lust, and endless possibility.

As I slowly regained my senses, the cool towel on the back of my neck and Wanda's comforting presence helped anchor me in reality. Her magic gently caressed my mind, offering reassurance and care as I took in the aftermath of our intense encounter.

"Easy, Detka. You're okay," she murmured, and I found solace in the warmth of her embrace. I took the offered water bottle, sipping slowly as she continued to tend to my well-being. The realization that I had passed out from pleasure left me both surprised and amused.

"Never happened before," I admitted with a chuckle. "The other Wanda was more of a sub, so I was usually the one in control. Not that I didn't enjoy it, but being on the receiving end is a whole different experience."

Wanda's magic fetched a baggy shirt, and as I recognized it, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. It was a shirt from a concert we attended when we were sixteen, a tangible link to our shared past.

"It's good to know not everything is different," I remarked, smiling as she kissed my temple.

In the warmth of our makeshift cocoon, surrounded by blankets and pillows, Wanda's magic weaving a protective barrier around us, we continued to watch 'Bob's Burgers.' However, my focus was no longer on the show; instead, I found myself captivated by the woman holding me close.

A sudden wave of fear and doubt crashed over me as I wondered if this intimate encounter was just a one-time gesture to alleviate my grief. The fear of being tossed aside after a momentary respite haunted my thoughts, threatening to overshadow the joy we had just shared.

Wanda, sensing my internal struggle, gently addressed my concerns. "Hey, woah, Detka. Those thoughts of yours are the farthest thing from the truth. Do not listen to them. I would never do that to my soulmate," she reassured me, her forehead finding mine in a tender gesture of connection.

"I love you, Y/N," she confessed, her words washing away my fears and opening the floodgates to a cascade of happy tears. "I love you, Wands! I didn't think I'd ever get to hear you say those words to me again," I admitted, clinging to her shirt as I sobbed into her.

Wanda's promises echoed in my heart, a vow to cherish and reaffirm our love every day. She kissed away my tears, each tender touch a testament to the depth of her commitment. "I promise I'm going to say it every chance I get. I'm never going to stop. I'm going to remind you every day how beautiful you are and how much I love you, and I promise I'm never going to leave. No missions. Nothing like that. I'll always be by your side," she declared, her own tears mingling with mine.

In that moment, as we drowned in each other's love, I knew that this second chance at happiness was a gift we would both cherish. And as Wanda whispered, "I love you," over and over, I felt the weight of my grief lifting, replaced by the warmth of a love that transcended time and space.

========

In the midst of my peaceful dream, I found myself enveloped in a sense of tranquility unlike any I had experienced in well over a year. Waking up with a smile on my face I turn my head, looking over I gazed upon the sleeping form of Wanda, her features softened by the gentle embrace of slumber, I felt a rush of overwhelming love and affection welling up within me.

With a playful smile tugging at the corners of my lips, I leaned in closer, pressing gentle kisses along the curve of her neck. Each tender touch elicited a soft moan from her lips, a melody of pleasure that echoed through the stillness of the night.

Lost in the intoxicating embrace of our shared intimacy, I continued to shower her with affection, reveling in the warmth of her presence and the depth of our connection. And as I whispered her name, a soft murmur of adoration, I knew that this moment, this fleeting glimpse of happiness, was a treasure to be cherished for all eternity.

As Wanda began to stir awake, her voice still heavy with sleep, I couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for her. Her words, though tinged with a hint of warning, only served to deepen the bond between us.

"You're playing a dangerous game, kotenok," she murmured, her voice laced with sleepiness.

"Shchenok," I corrected gently, a small smile playing on my lips.

Her eyes snapped open at the correction, surprise evident in her expression. "When did you learn that?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

I shrugged, the memories of our shared past flooding back to me. "I was with her for like 20 years of our lives. I learned most Russian. Also Natasha, she..." My voice trailed off as Wanda's expression shifted, a wave of sadness washing over her.

"Oh my god, I forgot about Natasha. Is... is she alive here?" she asked, tears welling up in her eyes.

I nodded solemnly, feeling a pang of empathy for the pain she must be feeling. Crawling into her lap, I wrapped my arms around her, offering what comfort I could. "You really lost a lot there, dorogoya," I whispered, my voice soft with compassion. "But don't worry, everyone here is safe. We've apparently had it relatively easy here, it seems."

I pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, my heart overflowing with love and gratitude for this woman who had endured so much. "Now you have your loved ones back. You aren't alone anymore, and you won't ever be again. I promise."

==============

As the weekend unfolded, Wanda and I remained entwined in each other's arms, our connection deepening with each passing moment. When the boys returned home with their uncle Pietro, the atmosphere was filled with warmth and affection, a tangible sense of family that enveloped us all.

Pietro's hug was tight, filled with an unspoken understanding that transcended words. In his whispered question, "Did you guys finally connect?" I detected a mixture of curiosity and genuine concern.

With a small nod and a soft "Mmhmm," I confirmed what he already knew. This Wanda wasn't his real sister, just as she wasn't the Wanda I had known and loved for decades. But she was here, she was special, and in her embrace, I found a sense of solace and belonging that I had thought lost forever.

==============

As the following Friday arrived, Wanda and I made the decision to gather our friends and family together to share the details of our new lives. It was a momentous occasion, filled with a mix of anticipation and apprehension as we prepared to unveil the truth about our extraordinary circumstances.

Gathering our loved ones in a familiar setting, we began to recount the events that had led us to this moment, explaining the complexities of our intertwined destinies and the newfound connections we had forged. With each word, we sought to convey the depth of our emotions, the challenges we had overcome, and the hope that now burned bright within our hearts.

As our gathering unfolded, the emotions in the room were palpable, each hug and embrace a testament to the depth of our shared experiences and the bonds that bound us together.

Wanda's first instinct was to embrace Natasha tightly, their bodies trembling with sobs as they clung to each other. For both of them, it was a moment of overwhelming relief and joy, the realization that they had been given a second chance to be reunited with someone they had feared lost forever.

Next was Clint, the stalwart friend and ally who had saved Wanda countless times in her timeline, offering comfort and support when she needed it most. As they embraced, the weight of their shared history hung heavy in the air, a reminder of the trials they had faced and the strength they had found in each other's presence.

In that moment, surrounded by friends and family who had become like kin, Wanda and I felt a profound sense of gratitude for the bonds that had been forged through adversity. And as we shared stories and memories, laughter mingling with tears, we knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together, drawing strength from the love and support that surrounded us.

As our friends and family listened intently, their expressions shifting from surprise to understanding, we felt a sense of relief wash over us. To have our loved ones by our side, supporting us through this journey, was a gift beyond measure.

And as we concluded our explanation, surrounded by the warmth and love of those closest to us, we knew that no matter what the future held, we would face it together, united in our shared bond and unwavering commitment to one another.

As the night wore on and the festivities continued, Stephen pulled me aside, his expression grave with concern. "You know what she's done in her universe, right?" he asked, his voice tinged with urgency.

I bristled at his question, feeling a surge of defensiveness rise within me. "Do not start this, Strange," I warned, jabbing a finger in his direction. "If I had gone through what she had, this universe wouldn't even exist. What she did, in my eyes, is child's play compared to the horrors she endured."

My words carried a weight of conviction, a steadfast belief in Wanda's resilience and the sacrifices she had made to protect those she loved. And as I met Stephen's gaze, I saw a flicker of understanding in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the depth of Wanda's strength and the magnitude of her courage.

"She threw a tantrum essentially. Took over a town for a bit and then went on a killing spree to get here. I saw it through her eyes. I know if it had been me, you'd be lucky if America had still been standing," I asserted, a hint of steel in my voice as I tapped the power stone embedded in my chest.

The reminder of the immense power at my disposal served as both a warning and a declaration. Wanda's actions in her universe were a testament to the depths of her grief and the consequences of unchecked power. In contrast, I recognized the responsibility that came with wielding such force, a responsibility I vowed to use wisely to protect those I loved.

As the weight of our conversation lingered, Stephen nodded in acknowledgment, a silent understanding passing between us. The night continued, but the specter of the past and the potential for the future hung in the air, a reminder that even in moments of celebration, the shadows of our pasts were never truly far behind.

"I don't think you understand, my strength isn't superhuman, it's otherworldly. The precision it requires to ensure I don't break everything around me at any given moment is a delicate balance. With one punch, I wouldn't just put a crater in the earth, I'd break it in half," I emphasized, underscoring the magnitude of the power I possessed.

The distinction between superhuman strength and the cosmic force I wielded was crucial to grasp. While others might possess extraordinary abilities, mine was on a different scale altogether, capable of reshaping the very fabric of reality itself. It was a responsibility that weighed heavily on me, requiring a level of control and restraint beyond what most could comprehend.

As I spoke, I could sense the gravity of my words sinking in, the realization dawning on Stephen of the immense power at my command. It was a sobering reminder of the delicate balance between strength and responsibility, a balance that I vowed to uphold no matter the cost.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, I just wanted to remind you-" Stephen began, but I swiftly cut him off, my tone firm yet understanding. "Don't, Stephen. I know you're just trying to help. I don't need the reminder though," I assured him, acknowledging his concern while asserting my own understanding of the situation.

With a nod of acceptance, Stephen backed off, respecting my boundaries and allowing me to return to the comforting embrace of Wanda, who had been engaged in conversation with Natasha and Clint. As I settled back into her arms, the warmth of her presence enveloped me, a reassuring reminder of the love and support that surrounded me.

In that moment, surrounded by friends and family, I felt a sense of peace wash over me, a quiet reassurance that no matter the challenges we faced, we would face them together, united in our shared bonds and unwavering commitment to one another.

As Wanda continued her conversation with Natasha and Clint, her fingers traced delicate patterns on my hip, their touch a gentle caress that spoke volumes of the journey she had undertaken. Once stained with blood, those same hands now exuded a tenderness and compassion that belied the darkness of the past.

Feeling the soothing rhythm of her touch, I couldn't help but marvel at the transformation Wanda had undergone, the evolution from a place of pain and turmoil to one of healing and redemption. It was a testament to her resilience and strength, a reminder that even in the face of adversity, it was possible to find light amidst the shadows.

In that moment, as her touch danced across my skin, I felt a profound sense of gratitude for the woman before me, for the love and forgiveness she had extended, and for the hope that now blossomed within our hearts. And as our conversation continued, I knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, we would face them together, bound by the unbreakable bond of love and understanding that had brought us to this moment.

As the room suddenly filled with the energetic presence of our children, along with Clint's youngest and Kate close behind, my boys bounded into mine and Wanda's arms with cries for help. "Moms! Save us from the monster!" they pleaded, their laughter filling the air.

I chuckled as I gathered them close, feeling their warmth and energy envelop me in a comforting embrace. Glancing over, I caught sight of Kate playfully tickling Nathaniel, the mischievous grin on her face confirming my suspicions.

With a smile, I joined Wanda in rescuing our boys from the clutches of the imaginary monster, enveloping them in hugs and laughter as we reveled in the joy of family and friendship. In that moment, surrounded by the ones we loved most, I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the blessings that filled our lives, each smile and laugh a reminder of the happiness that awaited us in the days to come.

As the boys began to drift off to sleep in my arms, I couldn't help but smile at the sight. "I think it's time to go, my love," I murmured to Wanda, gesturing towards our sleeping sons. Despite their ten years, I scooped them up effortlessly, their weight feeling light in my arms.

A momentary look of surprise flickered across Wanda's face, her gaze lingering on me as she seemed to momentarily forget about my strength. At just 4'11, I was indeed petite for someone with such power, a fact that often caught others off guard.

With a soft chuckle, I gently adjusted the boys in my arms, their peaceful expressions a testament to the love and security they felt in our embrace. As we prepared to leave, I felt a surge of gratitude for the family we had become, bound together by love and the unbreakable bond of kinship. With Wanda by my side, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together, united in our shared love and determination to protect those we held dear.

As I glanced over at Wanda, watching the tender expression on her face as she looked upon our sleeping sons, my heart swelled with love and gratitude. The depth of emotion reflected in her eyes filled me with a sense of warmth and contentment, knowing that our family was complete and our bond unbreakable.

In that moment, as we stood together, surrounded by the quiet stillness of the night, I felt a profound sense of peace wash over me. The love that radiated between us and enveloped our children was a testament to the strength of our connection, a bond forged in the fires of adversity and tempered by the trials we had faced together.

As we prepared to depart, I reached out to take Wanda's hand, intertwining our fingers in a silent gesture of unity and love. With a shared smile, we turned and made our way home, our hearts full and our spirits lifted by the knowledge that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together, as a family.

===========

Wanda and I are on the couch when she asks, "Do you have photo albums of the boys?" I look at her, peeling my eyes from the TV as I pause it.

"Of course." I get up grabbing several albums of almost everything of their lives. "After we left the Avengers I took solace in capturing moments so we have a lot." I tell her as she starts through her pregnancy photos one of every month. Then the hospital photos of her giving birth. The look of pure happiness and bliss on both our faces as we held the boys. Both of us having skin to skin contact with them. As Wanda goes through the albums she starts crying.

"I missed out on so much because of my magic..." she whispered solemnly. "They went from babies, to 5, to 10 all because of words I said...Y/N...I missed everything." Knowing that Wanda had used her magic to create our boys in her universe and not anything like how we had here made her incredibly sad. I hate seeing her like this.

"How about I show you. Their first words, their first steps, everything." With a gentle touch, I leaned in closer to her, resting my forehead against hers as I offered her a silent gesture of comfort and solidarity. Feeling her fingers against my temples, I closed my eyes and allowed the memories to flow, every precious moment from the joyous announcement of her pregnancy to the bittersweet final days we shared together playing out before her.

As the memories unfolded like a vivid tapestry, I watched as Wanda's tears began to subside, replaced by a sense of wonder and awe. Through the magic of our shared recollections, she was able to witness the milestones she had missed, the laughter and love that had filled our home in her absence.

In that moment, as we shared in the memories of our past, I felt a renewed sense of hope blossom within me. Though Wanda may have missed out on so much, I was determined to make every moment from this point forward count, to cherish the time we had together and to create new memories that would fill the void left by the past.

With a gentle smile, I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close as we basked in the warmth of our shared love. And as the echoes of our memories faded into the night, I knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, we would face them together, united in our unwavering commitment to one another and to our family.

As I looked into Wanda's eyes, feeling the weight of her sadness and longing, I knew that I had to do everything in my power to ease her pain and make up for the lost time. With a gentle touch, I cupped her cheek in my hand, my thumb brushing away the tears that lingered there.

"Everything with them feels too quick and also a lifetime," I whispered softly, my heart swelling with love and determination. "But now that you're here with us, you'll get to experience it all with me. Together."

In that moment, as we shared in our shared resolve to embrace the present and forge ahead as a family, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. No matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together, united in our love and commitment to one another.

With a tender smile, I leaned in to press a gentle kiss against Wanda's forehead, silently promising to cherish every moment we shared and to make up for the lost time in any way I could. Together, we would build a future filled with love, laughter, and endless memories, united in our bond as a family.

Once we put the albums away, shut the TV off for the night we headed upstairs. Stopping to look in at the boys sleeping peacefully before heading to our own room, getting ourselves ready for bed. As I climb in, stretching out, Wanda climbs on top of me. I bite my bottom lip, looking up at her. I can see the look she has. I wrap my arms around her neck, gently trying to pull her down. She doesn't budge.

"Did you want something, shchenok?" Between the look in her eyes, the sound of her voice, and her in just a tank top of sleep shorts I'm weak to her completely under her not just physically.

"Want you. Need you." I tell her trying again to pull and when she still doesn't budge. I pout and whine. "Wands...please.."

As Wanda's hands worked their magic, binding mine above my head with a delicate yet firm touch, I felt a rush of excitement and anticipation coursing through me. With each tug of her magic, I was rendered powerless, completely at her mercy as she explored my body with a hunger that ignited a fire within me.

"Behave and we'll see where it goes," she husked, her words sending shivers down my spine as she pushed up my shirt, her lips finding purchase on my chest with an intensity that left me breathless. The sensation of her teeth grazing my skin, her tongue tracing patterns across my flesh, sent waves of pleasure radiating through me, making me squirm and writhe beneath her touch.

As I felt myself slipping deeper into subspace, surrendering to the heady mix of pleasure and vulnerability, I couldn't help but lose myself in the moment, giving in completely to the sensations that engulfed me. With each kiss, each caress, I felt myself unraveling, consumed by the overwhelming desire that burned between us.

In that moment, as I surrendered myself to Wanda's tender ministrations, I felt a profound sense of connection and intimacy that transcended the physical realm. With her by my side, I knew that I was safe, cherished, and loved beyond measure, and as I surrendered to the ecstasy of the moment, I knew that our bond would only grow stronger with each passing day.

Wanda plays with me and teases me for hours and I can't even remember how many times she's pushed me over the edge of ecstasy. As she brought me to another one as she slammed into me with a magic strap-on she'd conjured up, my mind already drowning in subspace, barely able to form words, but one slips out and then a few more,

"Mommy...gonna...ah-ha...ah..." After my words she sped up leaning down to whisper in my ear,

"That's right cum for Mommy like a good girl. Mommy's gonna cum with you. Gonna fill you up and breed you baby girl." As she whispered those final words in my ear, her voice a husky growl of lust and desire, I felt myself shattering into a million pieces, my entire being consumed by the ecstasy of release. With a cry of pure ecstasy, I let myself fall over the edge, my body trembling with the force of my climax as I surrendered myself entirely to the pleasure that engulfed me. Feeling her fill me up completely made my eyes roll back and the only word I could comprehend was, “Mommy.”

In that moment, as I basked in the afterglow of our shared ecstasy, I knew that I was exactly where I belonged, wrapped in the arms of the woman I loved more than anything in the world.

Taglist: @dorabledewdroop

#ley writes #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda maximommy #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #the scarlet witch x fem!reader #the scarlet witch #scarlet witch x you #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch

[ja3yun]

please be real | p.js

ex!jay x fem!reader warnings: angst, heartache, smut (mdni), fingering, unprotected sex, cream pie, teasing, pet names (princess, baby), crying, mentions of alcohol, drunk jay, pure heartbreak in the beginning, not proofread, anything else lmk synopsis: after a six-year relationship, you and jongseong part ways due to different needs for the future. when jongseong's first birthday post-breakup arrives, his struggle with your absence reaches a breaking point, prompting a late-night call from his friend that consequently reignites emotions and unresolved feelings. wc: 9.4k a/n: hi! it's me and it's jay's birthday so i wrote him a little something something. i didn't initially intend to rip my heart out as i wrote this yet here i am. this was oddly a healing one to write but i must warn you it does mention the reader not wanting to have children so if that doesn't appeal to you then this probs isn't the fic for you! as always, like, comments, feedback, etc. is all appreciated! ilysm and happy bday jay <3

A sharp, jarring noise pierces your ears, the peaceful sleep you were in rudely disrupted. You groan out loud, covering your face with your covers but it does nothing to stop the ringing from your phone, it doesn’t even dull it a little, the little black device only echoing around the room louder.

Disoriented and groggy, you fumble for your phone on the bedside table, clumsily searching for it in the darkness. It isn’t your alarm, the usual peaceful tones of the birds chirping would be a welcomed sound, one that eases you into the day; no this was a phone call.

Finally grasping your phone, your eyes fight themselves open as you blink away any remnants of sleep, trying to find any sort of centre from your dizzy awakening. You look at the name on your phone but your vision is so blurred you can’t make it out but answer it anyway, knowing that whoever is phoning at this ungodly hour is clearly in need of your help.

“Hello?” you ask quietly, as if you don’t want to disturb the quiet of the night, unlike the person on the other end of the call.

“Uh, Y/N? It’s Jake.” His soft Australian accent drifts from your phone speaker into your ears. He sounds unsure whether he is supposed to be making the call, which to be fair, you understand because you haven’t heard from him in months, not after…

Letting out a sigh, you rub your forehead with the base of your palm tiredly, “Jake, why the fuck are you calling me at…” you pull the phone away, inspecting the time now that you’re more alert, “3.36am?” you ask with a hint of disdain. Normally, you would welcome the boy’s surprise call, after all, you did miss him. But considering he woke you up from a good dream involving you, Jeongin from Stray Kids, and a happily ever after; he wasn’t exactly your favourite person right now.

You can faintly hear some music in the background as he stays silent and you swear to yourself if this is to give him a ride home from a concert turned party, you’ll have his head.

“Listen, I hate to ask you this but can you come to Haven?”

“The nightclub? Why?” Your earlier suspicions are proving to be right, he does want a lift home. That would be an acceptable request if you guys were actively talking every day and the best of buddies but he isn’t even your friend, not really. 

You can hear him shuffling around on the other end of the line, his voice can be heard trying to calm someone down but his words are obscured as if the phone is wrested away from his mouth, leaving only disjointed fragments of speech drifting through the receiver. 

This sounds like more than just a simple ride home and it causes you to snap to attention, your senses heightened with concern. 

Jake finally brings his attention back to you, letting out a sigh of discontentment, “It’s Jay, he’s a mess and he’s calling out for you.”

Jay. Park Jongseong.

It’s been so long since anyone has dared to mention his name to you that it almost sounds like a foreign word.

Seven months ago, you and Jongseong had decided to call off your 6-year relationship, both of you reaching the understanding that it was for the best considering your battling differences and needs within the relationship.

It wasn’t easy, the furthest thing from it actually. You and him had been inseparable since high school and once you both got together in year 12, it was always you and him against the world. He was the love of your life, that once in a lifetime kind of love that only happens in fairytales. Your souls were both painted from the same brush stroke.

But he wanted a peaceful, routine life - a classic white picket fence dream. Evenings would be spent with friends, savouring white wine and casual conversations over dinner. His heart was set on imagining the echoes of your future children's laughter filling your home, family trips to the seaside, and comforting them with kisses and band-aids when they got hurt.

And you craved spontaneity, to embrace life with vigour, travelling the world together was your dream, free from the responsibilities of parenting, cherishing moments just for yourselves. You longed for random midnight trips to Tesco for birthday cake simply because you could. All you wished for was to be with him, just the two of you.

Suddenly, your brain clicks into an important detail and you hurriedly check the calendar on your phone and the date makes you slump in your bed.

Today is Jongseong’s birthday, well technically not anymore given the time, but that means he has lived his first birthday without you by his side in so long. You would always celebrate his big day by doing something from his handwritten bucket list he has had since he was a child. Over the years he has added more to the list, each birthday scoring one out to add another.

The list wasn't extravagant; it was filled with simple yet heartfelt desires. You bought him a bundle of guitar lessons and a Taylor 114e electric guitar to fulfil his wish of learning to play. When you noticed the Download Festival marked with gold stars on his list, you surprised him with tickets for the year Metallica was headlining. And when he expressed a desire to cook a meal from scratch for his mum, you gifted him a kitchen knife engraved with his name and took the time to teach him how to prepare her favourite dish.

His birthdays were the most precious when you were in them, and you weren’t there with him.

“Y/N?” Jake’s sweet voice draws you back to his attention and out of the memory lane swirl your brain has put you in. He knows this is a tough call for you to take considering you and Jongseong said to cut ties completely; it’s better to act like you both didn’t exist than keep a thread tethered to one another that would only hurt you more.

As Jake and Sunghoon whisked Jay away for his birthday celebration, their intention was simple: to help him let loose and have a good time. Jay had been buried in overtime work lately, leaving little room for socialising. Since the breakup, the idea of going out without you - dancing together, stealing kisses in the taxi ride home - seemed unappealing.

Waking up that morning, Jay realised it marked the first birthday in six years without ticking something off his bucket list. The familiar, worn paper lay dormant on his desk, a stark reminder of your absence. He had no desire to celebrate today without you by his side. If he could fast-forward through the day to escape the weight of his birthday, he would eagerly do so.

Yet, with two very persuading friends and a whole lot of whiskey later, here he was, curled up outside Haven, yearning out for you.

“Y/N please, at least come and convince him to get up and come home with us,” Jake pleads. You can hear the cries of your ex-lover more clearly now as Jake kneels beside his friend, checking in on him.

With a resigned sigh, you nod, “Okay. Keep him warm, I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

Hanging up the phone, you quickly put a brush through your hair and change into a baggy top, one you bought for Jongseong before breaking up, and a pair of grey sweatpants. This is a bad idea, you know it is, but you also can’t leave him to wallow in the middle of the street. You don’t think you could live with yourself if you didn’t help and Jake wouldn’t call unless it was something he couldn’t handle. 

You don’t want to see the state Jongseong is in, his wailing cries that you could slightly hear over the phone already made your heart clench in hurt.

As you drive to Haven, your heart races in anticipation with each mile that passes. Is your heart ready to face him after all these months? Staring into the love of your life’s eyes once again might break you even more. You’ve done a good job in keeping yourself together, at putting on a facade that everything is okay, when deep down you know that if one person asked you about Jongseong you would crumble and fall apart. 

He wasn’t the only one throwing himself into work to forget. You’ve worked hours and hours trying to keep your mind off the heartbreak, you thought that if you just focused and kept your head down, the phrase time heals all wounds would kick in and you’d be free of the torment of losing your first love. But it hasn’t worked out that way, you know that now as you speed down the empty roads to console the one person you are trying to forget.

As you reach Haven, you can vaguely see three boys under the illuminating sign, almost as if shining a spotlight on them to add to the spectacle that Jongseong is making. Onlookers are watching as your ex-boyfriend cries on the pavement, wishing you would come home.

With a quick exhale, you step out of the car before doubts can creep in, determined to be there for him. Jake and Sunghoon's voices float to you, attempting to soothe him and inject some sense into the moment. Bracing yourself, you approach, ready to offer whatever comfort you can, despite the storm of emotions swirling within you.

Sinking onto the balls of your feet, you lower yourself to Jongseong's level, meeting his strained figure. Instantly, the sight of his distress instantly shatters your heart into a million pieces.

An abundance of tears cascades down Jongseong's reddened face, obscuring his features like a relentless waterfall. His clenched jaw and the prominent vein on his forehead portray the intensity of his distress as he struggles to draw each laboured breath. Curled into himself, his body seems to contort with the weight of physical agony, mirroring the emotional pain that ripples through his trembling form. He’s been keeping this in for so long that his body doesn’t know how to cope with it.

Reaching out to grab his clenched fist, you shuffle forward, “Jjongie? It’s me, baby, look at me,” you say calmly, trying to reassure him with your soft voice.

As your fingers gently encircle his clenched fist, Jongseong's body tenses at the touch. Slowly, he turns his gaze towards you, his eyes bloodshot and filled with an overwhelming mixture of sorrow and longing. For a moment, there's a flicker of recognition in his eyes before they cloud over again with anguish.

He doesn’t believe you’re actually here, considering the long nights where he has conjured up the idea of you, clinging to his imagination on the lonely nights he wishes for your touch. But as you squeeze his hand, he realises this isn’t a dream-induced sighting, you’re really here in front of him.

"Y/N..." he murmurs, his voice choked with emotion. Tears stream down his face in torrents, some landing on your hand that holds his. His cries reverberate through the air, each wail a sharp stab to your chest.

Cupping his cheek, you settle yourself between his legs, ignoring the discomfort of the rocks beneath your knees, your focus solely on him. With a sad smile, you attempt to mask your own anguish, your touch a gentle reassurance amidst his storm of emotions.

"Hey, hey, enough of that now," you hush him softly, your voice a soothing melody in the tumultuous night. Using your thumb, you tenderly wipe away his tears, though they continue to flow unabated.

He leans into your touch, “I miss you so much, Y/N, please. Please,” he pleads as you feel his warm breath against your skin as he nuzzles into your palm, seeking solace in the familiar sensation he's been yearning for.

It’s hurting you just seeing him like this, the man you once knew to be strong-willed and resilient, keeping his emotions under control unless he’s sharing sweet vulnerable moments with you under the covers, is now a shell of himself, stripped bare by the weight of grief.

Turning your face to look at Jake, you offer him a small smile, “I’ll take him home.”

“You sure?” Jake asks, knowing that it’s a dangerous game for you both if you do.

“Yeah, I don’t think he’s going to move unless I do,” you chuckle sympathetically but there’s a bubble in your throat as Jongseong’s whimpers flow into your ear from beside you.

Nodding, Jake gestures to Sunghoon, silently enlisting his help in the task of ferrying the drunk man to your car. The weight of Jongseong's limp form proves cumbersome as you all struggle to navigate his dead weight, his limbs hanging heavily without offering any assistance.

"Let's get you home," you murmur softly, your hands pressing gently against Jongseong's chest to steady him, aided by his friends who lift him onto their shoulders.

His eyes lock onto yours, an intensity burning within them. "Please be real," he whispers, his voice trembling with desperation. Despite feeling your touch and catching hints of your scent, doubt gnaws at him. If this is merely a figment of his imagination, he knows he'll never forgive himself. You're so close, so tangible - it has to be you.

With much struggle, the three of you get him to your car, putting him gently in the backseat so he can lie down, but he wraps his arms around your waist as his legs stay situated outside of the vehicle, holding you close to him.

"Come on, Jjongie, lie down for a minute," you coax gently, guiding him to stretch out along the seats. But he remains unmoving, clutching onto you as if fearing you'll slip away if he lets go. With a soft sigh, you stroke the back of his head, your hands moving in a soothing rhythm. "I promise, I am not going anywhere," you whisper, your words a tender vow to him.

Yet, your attempts to reassure him seem to go unheard. His face burrows deeper into your stomach, his words muffled by the fabric of your t-shirt and the weight of his tears.

You exchange a worried glance with Jake and Sunghoon, “How much did he have to drink?” you ask, scared of the answer they will give. Your ex-boyfriend has always been so good at holding his liquor that it must have been a hefty amount he consumed.

“Like two weeks' wage worth,” Sunghoon winces, his neck tightening as he looks at his best friend.

"Oh, baby..." you sigh softly, feeling a wave of empathy wash over you. Returning your attention to Jongseong, you press a tender kiss to the crown of his head, hoping to offer some comfort amidst his distress. His response is to cling to you even tighter, his sobs echoing against your chest as he seeks solace in your embrace.

You need to get him home, he’s a mess and the longer he stays like this, the more his body is going to wear out. 

With a gentle hand, you stroke his hair, your touch a soothing caress against his trembling form. Despite the chaos swirling around you, you find a semblance of peace in this intimate moment, anchored by the bond that still lingers between you.

"I've got you, Jjongie," you whisper softly, drawing back as he eases up his grip on you. His friends go to help you but you halt them with a firm gesture, "You guys can go, I've got it from here."

Sunghoon shakes his head, concern etched on his face. "He's too heavy, Y/N. You won't be able to manage him into the flat without us," he protests.

But you stand your ground. This is your and Jongseong's mess, and you can’t let others help you clean it up, "It's okay. You guys have done your shift for tonight. Go home," you insist, your voice resolute.

Reluctantly, Sunghoon and Jake nod and bid you goodnight before going their separate ways home, leaving you alone with Jongseong and the weight of your shared history.

Taking a deep breath, you hoist him in, his body listening to you a little more now that you’ve reassured him you aren’t leaving him. He sprawls over the backseats and lays still, the alcohol consuming him into some form of comatose now that he has relaxed slightly.

You slide into the driver's seat, the engine humming to life beneath you. Glancing at Jongseong's slumbering form in the rearview mirror, you steel yourself for the journey ahead.

_____

Arriving at his house makes you more nervous than before. This wasn’t just his flat, it used to be your shared home, the place you lived for 2 and half years and made countless memories in.

You were the one to move out and find your own place, thinking it was best since your work was further away and you could find an apartment closer to it. But the truth is, you just couldn’t face being reminded of him in each room and in the pieces of furnishings.

It was selfish of you to leave him with the remnants of your relationship surrounding him, all you thought about was you and your needs, neglecting to think about how he might feel being surrounded by nothing but memories.

Lugging him into the flat, his legs are working in tandem with you now unlike before but he still isn’t proving to be the easiest person to carry. The last time you had to hold his weight like this was when he got drunk at your prom after taking sneaky shots in the hotel garden with his friends. It was funny but you blame him for some of your back pain that you’ve endured in your early twenties.

As you push open the door and step into the living room, a wave of nostalgia washes over you like a tsunami. Though only seven months have passed, it feels like a lifetime since you last stood in this space with him by your side. Everything remains unchanged, frozen in time since the day you left. The same couch sits in its familiar spot, adorned with throw pillows and blankets you bought for last season. Photographs of you both, captured during Christmases and holidays, adorn the walls, each one a snapshot of happier times. Even the vase that his mum had gotten you both for your housewarming gift, one that you loved and he hated, remains in its pride of place on the mantlepiece.

You push your thoughts down and make your way to your once-shared bedroom, walking through the memories and heaving your ex-boyfriend along slowly. His nose nudges into your hair, sweeping in your scent as he loses himself in the feeling of you.

As you reach the familiar threshold, you can't help but feel a pang of bittersweet longing. This room, once a sanctuary where you both shared your laughter and bodies, now serves as a poignant reminder of the love you've lost.

Gently, you ease Jongseong onto the bed, sitting him up, “I’m going to get you some clean boxers okay?” you ask him but he’s not here, not really, so you make your way to the drawers on the other side of the room.

Walking over, you spot a familiar t-shirt lying crumpled on your old side of the bed. You make a b-line to investigate it and as you pick up the crumpled t-shirt, a flood of memories washes over you, transporting you back to simpler times. Your fingers trace the familiar fabric, still faintly carrying the scent of you, now mingled with his cologne. You piece it all together pretty quickly, the way it still smells faintly of you but is not starting to be overpowered by his cologne. He hugs it at night to find peace of mind.

“Oh, Jjongie,” you sigh, heart reaching out to him. You’re no better, you have one of his hoodies that you snuck into your luggage as you packed and wear it when you’re at home. Just like your t-shirt, his hoodie is starting to lose its scent from the amount of times you’ve hugged yourself to sleep in it.

Jongseong has always been reserved, his emotions carefully guarded behind a facade of reason and rationale. To see him like this, vulnerable and raw, strikes a chord deep within you. If he had always worn his heart on his sleeve, perhaps it would be easier to understand. But the complexity of his emotions only serves to deepen the ache in your chest.

You place the t-shirt back on the pillow before opening the dresser drawer and retrieve a clean pair of boxers, his favourite ones with the faded Hellow Kitty print that you've always teased him about.

Gently, you begin to undress him while he rambles incoherent nonsense that you can’t understand between the mix of tears and drunk slurring. The top half is easy but the bottom half proves difficult as he only looks up at you, whispering pleas as he stares at you, keeping his bum firmly sat on the edge of the bed.

As you finally manage to remove Jongseong's jeans and boxers, leaving him naked, a new layer of vulnerability settles over the room. He sits before you bathed in the soft glow of the hallway light, his silhouette outlined in the darkness.

His beauty, illuminated by the faint light, is both captivating and heartbreaking. The familiarity of his form, once etched in your memory, now lays before you in the flesh, a tangible reminder of the love you still harbour for him. How could you not still love him? He was perfect in every way possible.

"Stay with me," he whispers, his voice a gentle plea as his hands begin to roam your sides, tracing the contours of your body beneath your shirt. Each touch ignites a flurry of sensations within you, sending butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

He pulls you onto his lap, your sweatpants becoming the barrier between his cock and your pussy. Yet, none of you are really thinking about that right now, all you both want is to hold one another again.

“Jongseong, we broke up, and for good reason,” you rationalise with not only him but yourself as you find yourself sinking into his touch as his hands roam your back.

Nuzzling his nose against yours, he begins to cry softly again, his face rubbing itself against yours as his tears transfer from his cheeks to yours, “Please, baby, don’t leave me,” he mumbles as his lips ghost over yours. 

He doesn’t just mean tonight, he means forever. A tear from your eye cascades down your face, getting lost in the mixture of his, your empathy for him overwhelming you because you feel the same way he does. You need him in every way, you need to be close to him, to feel his heart beating in synch with yours once again.

But you know better than this. You’re both just prolonging heartache if you succumb to being with him again. You can’t give each other what you need.

“Baby, don’t do this,” you beg him, knowing that he has the power to pull you back into his life with the click of his fingers, that resolve you have worked so hard to build up now hangs in the balance, “Let me get you changed and then into bed, yeah?”

Reasoning with him is a lost cause, his arms now hugging you tightly like before as he ignores your suggestion. The last thing he wants is to put on those boxers because he knows when he does that you’ll leave. 

"Please, Princess," his voice is raw with emotion, his desperation palpable in the air between you. And as you look into his eyes, you see the depth of his longing mirrored in your own. 

His plea hangs in the air, a heavy weight pressing down on your already burdened heart. You feel torn between the overwhelming desire to give in to his request and the harsh reality of the situation.

With a deep breath, you summon the strength to gently extricate yourself from his embrace, feeling the weight of his disappointment lingering in the air. His hurt expression tugs at your heartstrings, but you shake your head firmly, "Just tonight, okay?" you assure him, your voice soft but resolute.

Curse you and your heart that caves into his pleas so easily.

You disregard getting him dressed and instead, remove your sweatpants and replace them with those very boxers you planned to adorn him with and swap out your t-shirt for the one on your old pillow. Jongseong clumsily climbs into his covers, getting comfortable and finding some happiness in the fact that you’ll be in his arms at least for a little while. 

Once you climb into your side of the bed, he instinctively hugs you from behind, the comfort of your body pressed against his. He spoons you, tucking his face in your neck as he exhales in contentment. This is all he has been craving since that night you left and he couldn’t be happier. All the turmoil and anguish from earlier slowly depletes as he finds himself sinking into a much-needed sleep.

You can’t deny you feel the same, his arms wrapped around you feel like home, like you’ve been on a seven-month business trip and you’re now finally back where you belong. You sink into him further, relishing his skin against yours.

“Happy birthday, Jjongie,” you whisper, bringing his hand up to kiss it before intertwining your fingers with his.

_____

Waking up, Jongseong feels like his whole body has crashed into a brick wall. His bones ache and his head feels tight, but there is a weight that feels so familiar yet foreign, his legs tangled around something and his arms holding it close. This feels different from the t-shirt of yours he clings to every night, this has more substance.

Please don’t be some random girl he thinks to himself, scared to open his eyes. 

Even if he did want to open them he couldn’t because they are being held together so tight by something. Was he crying last night? Actually, what even happened last night?

He replays the fragments of the evening in his mind, a few scattered images begin to surface - Jake and Sunghoon dragging him to Haven, the raucous atmosphere of the bar, and the ill-advised decision to ride the mechanical bull. And then nothing.

As he tries to recounter the night, you see him attempt to pry his eyes open and decide to help him out. Swiping your thumb over his eyes, you wipe away the mix of his dried-in tears and sleep. He looks so confused when you touch him and his body tenses.

Either he is having a severe case of hallucinations to the point where he is starting to physically feel you or the girl that he took home last night resembles your touch. God, how he hoped it was the first one. 

Opening his eyes with your help, he blinks away the blur and sets his eyes on your face, his expression reading one of relief that quickly turns into astonishment.

“Y/N? Baby?” he whispers, his hands instinctively reaching for your cheek, “Please be real.” The same words he pleaded out last night leave his lips again. Jongseong has spent so many nights dreaming of you, wishing in an alternative universe that he can hold you again, so much so that this doesn’t feel real.

You don’t know what to say but obviously, you have to say something. It was one thing to confront drunk Jongseong who didn’t have a wit about him but now it feels like there’s a boulder on your chest as you try to conjure up the courage to speak to a sober, semi-alert Jongseong. 

All you can do is nod, no words escaping your dried lips. You look down to see you and his limbs mangled together just like they used to be, the feeling of his body pressed so tightly against yours almost feels like heaven.

He takes in the sight of you, the lines of disbelief on his features soften, replaced by a glimmer of hope. Slowly, almost tentatively, he reaches out to you, his fingers brushing against your cheek as if to confirm your presence.

The touch sends a jolt of electricity coursing through you, he’s caressing your cheek so tenderly it reminds you of the time you had the shift from hell and Jongseong held you the whole night, whispering sweet words into your ear and stroking your tears away, just like this.

Except there are no tears this time, you’re all cried out - months of mourning the loss of your relationship will do that to you.

As Jongseong's eyes meet yours, a flicker of recognition passes through them, followed by a wave of embarrassment. His voice is soft as he speaks, a hint of uncertainty lacing his words, "What are you doing here?" he asks, his tone laden with confusion.

"You got pretty drunk last night," understatement "And Jake asked me to come pick you up."

You can feel the tension in the air as Jongseong processes your words, his expression a mixture of shame and regret, "Sorry, I don't usually drink that much," he murmurs, his voice tinged with remorse.

The explanation stings, not because Jongseong has been drinking more, but because of the distance it creates between you. It's as if he's explaining himself to a stranger, rather than to the person who once knew him better than anyone else. The past six years you’ve known how he knows his limit and that he doesn’t tend to breach it, not subconsciously. 

All you do is nod, accepting his explanation as you slowly start to detangle yourself from him, “I better get going.”

“Y/N, please let's talk,” he pleads as his voice wavers, his grip tightening around your waist, and his desperation palpable as he pleads for your attention. But you've made up your mind, and no amount of persuasion can sway you from the path you've chosen.

"Jongseong, please, let's not do this," you implore, your voice tinged with a mixture of sorrow and resolve, "We're only going to hurt ourselves again."

You both know the reasons behind your breakup are deeply rooted, immutable truths that cannot be changed. It's not a matter of cheating or petty disagreements—this is about fundamental differences in desires and aspirations for the future.

But Jongseong refuses to accept defeat, his forehead coming to rest against yours as he breathes his love out, "Princess, we can work it out, I know we can," he insists, his words heavy with sincerity.

You steel yourself against the onslaught of his love, knowing that to give in would only prolong the inevitable pain, "We want different things, Jjongie," you remind him gently, your voice tinged with regret.

“I can do without them. It’s you I can’t live without…I can’t breathe without you here by my side.” His words are sincere and you know it, but you can’t accept it. When you both discussed your future, he looked so excited at the prospect of kids that your heart broke instantly. You knew right away that you couldn’t give him what he wanted most.

Closing your eyes and sucking in the bottom of your cheeks, you steady yourself to have this conversation yet again, “You can’t give up the idea of having kids. Having the life you want is much more important than me. You can find someone who can give you that.”

It hurts to say but you need to rip the bandaid off quickly. 

“You think I want that life with anyone but you?” His voice raises lightly, hinting at the anger rising into his chest. He needs you to listen to him, to understand him, “Y/N, if it’s not with you then I don’t want that life.”

Shaking your head determinedly, you sit up, “But I can’t give you that life, it’s not what I want.” You feel like you’re reliving the argument that ended it all those months ago.

“That’s okay.”

“No, It’s not,” It’s your turn to get angry, your eyebrows lacing together as you try to read him. How can he say all of this so easily? Like he wasn’t trying to promise you that he would change his entire life plan just to be with you. Is it romantic? Sure, but it’s also fucking stupid. No one should change just to keep someone they love because if they were meant to be, then their values would align…right?

"It's not that simple, Jongseong," you argue through the silence, your voice tinged with frustration, "You can't just sweep aside your dreams for the sake of our relationship. What about what you want? What about your own happiness?"

Jongseong sits up, the covers hiding his naked lower half; he hadn’t realised he was naked and it only adds a new layer to his vulnerability. He is laying himself bare to you.

But Jongseong's gaze remains unwavering, his determination evident in the set of his jaw, "Since we broke up, I've realised that you are the life I want," he declares, his words carrying the weight of his conviction, "Whatever that looks like for you, I want it."

You feel his words like a pickaxe, slowly breaking away at the wall you’ve spent months building around your heart and reason. A whirlwind of conflicting emotions sweeps over you. On one hand, his declaration of love sparks a glimmer of hope amidst the ruins of your fractured relationship. Yet, on the other hand, doubt claws at your insides, gnawing away at any semblance of certainty, the pure love that you have for him only wishes to make sure he’s happy and gets everything he wants in life.

"Jongseong, I..." you start, your voice wavering as you grapple with the turmoil inside. How do you express the depth of your feelings?

Grabbing your face with his large hands, he kisses you, his soft lips now coating yours. You’ve missed him so much that you become overwhelmed by his actions, a soft tear leaking from your ducts.

So much for being all cried out, you think to yourself.

"It's you, Y/N, I only need you," Jongseong whispers against your lips, his urgency evident as he seeks solace in the warmth of your embrace, stealing kisses with a hunger born from longing.

In spite of yourself, you find your lips responding to his touch, drawn in by the familiar sensation of his mouth against yours. Your arms instinctively wrap around him, fingers grazing lightly over the muscles of his back as you hold him close; your brain is telling you to push him away but your heart is pulling him tighter to you. 

"It's not fair to you, Jjongie," you murmur, the words weighted with a sense of guilt and remorse.

"I'd rather be with you happily than with kids and someone else miserably," Jongseong confesses, his words carrying the weight of his heart's deepest desires.

Jongseong wishes you could see it from his point of view; of course, he has wanted kids and a comfortable life for so long but the idea of achieving that when you are not his wife seems fucking ridiculous. There is no one in this world he wants to be with other than you and if that means he has to be an uncle rather than a dad, so be it.

You are all he has ever wanted. To grow old with you, to experience each of your accomplishments together and have you close to him. He wants to protect you and look after you the way he knows he should and that is his new life goal. This isn’t a decision he has made lightly but a decision he wanted to make.

His hands glide down your sides, trailing over your thighs as his kisses continue, each touch a manifestation of the craving that has consumed him. His need for you is overwhelming, every fibre of his being yearning for you in every possible way. Another moment without you feels unbearable, as if he might die.

You surrender to his touch, sinking back onto the bed as he hovers above you, his grip on your thighs firm yet tender. The intensity of his desire leaves marks, but in this moment, you welcome anything he offers.

It's astonishing how the feel of his lips on yours dismantles your resolve, scattering your apprehensions like leaves in the wind.

Slowly, he removes from you the t-shirt that has absorbed his tears on countless nights and the boxers you borrowed from him, leaving you exposed beneath him. As he looks upon your naked figure, his eyes drink in every curve and contour, offering silent gratitude to the heavens for letting him have you like this. You are everything he wants and more.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Y/N,” he whispers into your mouth as he presses his body hard against yours, his member rubbing itself against your folds. 

The feeling of him rubbing against you is enough to elicit a moan. No amount of toys was enough to satisfy you, not the way Jongseong could. Over the years you learned about one another’s bodies so intimately that no one could ever know you the way he does, not even yourself. 

You couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping with someone else, even if you and Jongseong had broken up, your heart couldn’t do it. You never even considered a one night stand because deep down you knew that your body belonged to Jongseong and no one else.

He moves his hips, slowly rubbing himself against you, the bell of his cock grazing your clit teasingly. It feels like a dream for him to touch you this way again, and the fact that you were coating his cock with your wetness was enough to tell him that you need this too.

Kissing you desperately, his tongue darts into your mouth and swirls with yours as he seeks to taste you, his buds dancing along with yours. He moans into your mouth and acts as an echo of his love for you.

“I missed you so much,” he whispers as his hips continue to move slowly, teasing your hole with his tip each time he draws back. It’s becoming increasingly obvious how much it’s starting to irritate you, your need to have him inside you is evident in your whines of frustration.

"I missed you too, baby. More than anything," you confess, your hand finding his cock as you press against him, seeking to create greater friction between you. With each movement, the pressure builds, sending waves of pleasure coursing through both of you.

With each synchronised movement, the tension between you mounts, the desire for one another lingering in the warm air. His hips continue their slow, teasing rhythm, each brush against your core sending sparks of want up your heat and into your chest.

Feeling the urgency building within you, you guide his cock with precision, pressing it against your eager entrance. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you feel the head of his length dip into you only slightly, the anticipation of being filled with him heightening your senses.

"Please," you whisper, your voice laden with need and longing, a plea for him to take you.

With a teasing grin, Jongseong relents to your plea, but not in the way you expected. Instead of thrusting into you the way you want him to, he trails his fingertips along the curves of your body, igniting a trail of fire in his wake. His touch is light and tantalising, tracing patterns across your skin as he savours every moment. He wants to take his time with you, no matter how much his dick longs to be surrounded by your walls.

You like to be teased even for a little bit, the payoff at the end always hits the right spot.

You squirm beneath his touch, aching for more, but he continues with deliberate slowness. His fingers dance over your heated flesh, exploring every inch of your body with an intimacy that leaves you breathless. Each caress sends shivers down your spine, building the anticipation to unbearable heights. God, you missed his hands all over you.

As his right hand dips lower, he begins tracing circles around your sensitive clit and you can't help but arch your back in pleasure, a soft moan escaping your lips. The sensation is electrifying, sending waves coursing through your body as he expertly teases you.

Feeling your body tremble with anticipation, his touch becomes more urgent as he presses his fingers against your throbbing clit h and with practised skill, he begins to move faster, applying just the right amount of pressure to have you writhing beneath him.

“You look so fucking perfect, all desperate and whiney like this, Princess,” he says as he leans down to kiss you, breathing in deeply through his nose as he tries to fill each of his senses with you. It wasn’t just enough to feel you, he wanted to taste you, to inhale your scent, to hear you cry out for him, to see you unravel beneath him.

Your breath catches in your throat as the intensity of his touch sends you spiralling towards the edge of bliss. Each stroke of his fingers drives you closer to the brink, your body humming with the need to let go.

But just as you feel yourself teetering on the edge, Jongseong suddenly slows his movements, drawing out the pleasure with agonising slowness. It's a torturous tease, the brief moments of intensity followed by long, drawn-out strokes that leave you gasping for more.

“Please, please, please, Jjongie,” you whimper in frustration, your body aching for release as Jongseong continues to play you like a symphony, alternating between fast and slow, building the tension to unbearable levels. Just when you think you can't take it anymore, he finally gives in, his fingers dipping into your heat and thrusting into you at a rough pace, your pussy soaking his digits as he coaxes out your orgasm.

“You’re clamping down on my fingers so hard, Baby, you gonna cum?” he asks arrogantly, knowing that with each curl of his finger, he is watching your body lose control and surrender to him.

Nodding quickly, you pull him down for a long, searing kiss as his thumb joins the party and flicks your clit rapidly, “Oh my god,” you moan out into his mouth through bated breaths, “I’m gonna cum, Jongseong, please can I cum?”

“You never have to ask baby,” he moves his mouth to your ear and lightly nibbles your lobe, “Cum for me, Princess,” he gently commands.

Jongseong continues to work his magic, his fingers moving with expert precision as he guides you through the throes of ecstasy. Your vision blurs and every nerve in your body hums with pleasure as you reach the pinnacle of bliss.

With a final, desperate cry, you let go, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You arch your back and cry out his name as pleasure consumes you, your body trembling with the intensity of it all.

His fingers remain still inside you, but his thumb maintains its relentless pace, each swipe sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your body. Your hips instinctively twitch in response, your nub throbbing with sensitivity and yearning for a respite. Yet, Jongseong shows no signs of letting up, his determined flicking only intensifying.

"You like that, baby?" Jongseong's voice is hoarse with desire as he intently watches your reactions. His eyes are dark with need as he continues to work you with wild desire. 

Your senses are overwhelmed by sensations pouring through you, so you can only respond with a gasping nod. Every single nerve in your body is buzzing with ecstasy, and all you can think of is the delicious agony of his thumb against your delicate clit.

"Tell me what you want, Princess," he asks, his voice a seductive whisper in your ear, "Do you want more?"

You can only make a frantic plea, your words barely comprehensible in the middle of intense pleasure. "Yes, please, Jongseong... More..."

Jongseong's lips curl into a wicked grin as he hears your plea, his confidence growing with each breathless gasp that escapes your lips. With a teasing twinkle in his eye, he moves his fingers again, pressing them against your contracting walls, his hot breath ghosting over your ear as he speaks.

"What do you want, Y/N?" he whispers, his voice dripping with anticipation, "Tell me, and I'll give it to you."

Your mind is a haze of desire, but amidst the fog, one thought stands out clear and demanding. You need him inside you, filling you completely with his presence. With trembling hands, you reach for him, your fingers curling around his cock, guiding him to where you need him most, pushing his hand out of the way.

"I want you," you whisper, your voice trembling with need. "I want all of you, Jongseong." When you utter the words, there’s a deeper meaning to them, a meaning that Jongseong is clinging to.

The way your fingers wrap around his rock-hard member elicits a hiss from him, your touch mixed with your words only fuels him to give you everything you need. 

Jongseong lets out a guttural groan, entirely surrendering to your touch and words. His eyes darken with want as he watches you take control, and his breath quickens with anticipation as you guide him inside you. His breath coming in ragged gasps, he looks into your eyes with a mixture of desire and adoration, "God, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice rough with need, “You feel so fucking incredible. I’ve missed how you just suck me in like this.”

You look down and watch as his entire length gets lost in your heat, his cock’s head hitting deep within you. You’ve missed how he fills you up so much but you hadn’t realised just how badly until right now as he shallowly thrusts into you.

You respond with a low moan of pleasure, your nails digging into his skin as you pull him closer, urging him to go deeper. "Yes, Jongseong," you whisper, your voice laced with longing, "just like that. I need this so much, I need you."

With each thrust, he grunts in response, his movements becoming more desperate as he seeks to satisfy your every desire, "I'm yours, Y/N," he declares, his voice filled with raw emotion, "completely and utterly yours."

As he lifts your legs and closes them, gently draping them over his left shoulder, your warmth envelops his shaft, drawing him in closer. Jongseong relishes the sensation of your tightness, revelling in the snug embrace of your canal around him. And you too find delight in the pressure of his girth, relishing the way he stretches you further with every powerful thrust.

Each movement of his hips is deliberate, each one designed to bring you both closer to the edge of ecstasy. As his hands stroke your legs tenderly, contrasting with the intensity of his thrusts, you find yourself lost in the intoxicating rhythm of your bodies moving as one.

His jerks grow more intense, the pace quickening as he drives deeper into you, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge, "You feel so good," he groans, his voice filled with unrestrained passion, "so fucking perfect for me, Princess."

In response, you curve your back and meet his thrusts with equal conviction, the heat between you building to an almost euphoric level. "Jongseong," you exclaim, your voice a symphony of fulfilment, "don't stop, please don't stop."

Jongseong intensifies his efforts with a wild growl, each movement driven by a burning need to push you to the edge of satisfaction and beyond. At this moment, there is only you and him, burned by the fires of passion.

With a swift motion, your lover bends you in half, positioning your legs by your head as he quickens his already rapid pace. Lost in a whirlwind of desire, your eyes roll back and your hands instinctively grip his shoulders, your chest heaving with each forceful thrust of his cock. Your nails dig into his skin, leaving marks on his shoulder blades as you cling to him, lost in the intensity of the moment.

Feeling the sting of your nails, he grits his teeth and strains his neck, the veins in his temples pulsating as he fights the overwhelming urge to release inside you right then and there.

“Fuck, claw my back, Baby,” he growls, his voice thick with desire, “make me yours again.” With determination, he continues to pound into you, each movement bringing you closer to your shared orgasm.

After hearing Jongseong’s go-ahead, you dig into his back, dragging your nails across his skin, leaving fiery red lines in their wake, just like he wants. It burns him in the most delectable way, making his cock throb inside of you.

Your breaths combine in the air, creating an ensemble of desire as you both reach the edge. The tension between you grows with each thrust, a crescendo of want reaching its peak.

As he slams into you furiously, his voice fills the room with urgency, "You gonna cum again, Princess? You want it?" His words are a mixture of want and domination, starting a fire inside you that threatens to consume everything in its path.

With a firm nod, you meet his gaze, your eyes brimming with want. "Yes, Jongseong, please," you beg, your voice a frantic appeal for release once again.

In response, he increases his efforts, his motions growing more frenzied as he propels you both to your orgasms. And then, with a final, strong thrust, you shatter, your body convulsing from the ferocity of your release. Jongseong follows closely behind, his own climax mirroring yours as he finds release within you, “Fuck!” 

His body stills as he shoots his seed into you, the tremble of both your bodies vibrates the bed beneath you. Finding it hard to keep himself up, he falls onto you, moving his cock into you further, only drawing out a final moan from your lips.

After a couple of minutes, Jongseong rolls over, his chest heaving up and down rapidly. God, he missed the way you feel under him, he could go another ten rounds if you asked. 

But that would mean you would stay, and is that even something you want? He doesn’t want to ask, your answer being the deciding factor of whether he goes on his life with misery or happiness.

He knows he can’t force you into this relationship but he hopes he has done enough to convince you that you are all he wants.

“Please be with me again, Y/N. I can’t live without you,” he whispers into the air, not daring to look at you.

You on the other hand only want to look at him, to see if you can really try this again, “Even if it means no kids? No playdates with other parents? No family trips to Jeju?”

“Even without all that.” He does look sincere, his eyes now burning into yours with a new lease of determination.

The truth is, you’ve missed him so much that it hurts. Behind the strong facade is just a girl who misses her lover. Being without him is like being in a fire with no escape, constantly fighting your way out of a blaze while your lungs collapse. He’s the clear path to fresh air you desperately need, there is no denying it. And clearly, he thinks the same about you. 

Seeing him last night so fragile and broken engulfed you in the flames, burning you alive because you know that you feel every ounce of hurt that he is. It was a mirror to how you were feeling and you don’t think you knew how badly you needed him until that moment. You were trying to be so strong about it all, giving yourself only a short amount of time to grieve that as you looked at Jongseong last night, you know he has done the same.

You need one another to extinguish the fire.

“Jongseong, truly think about this, this isn’t me saying no to letting you go on a lads holiday, I’m denying you the opportunity to be a father,” you plead with him one last time, giving him an out to all of this as you lay it all on the table.

“Princess, I have had seven months to think about it. I am not compromising or altering my needs for you, this is a decision that I have made on my own. If I truly wanted the life I thought I did, I wouldn’t be begging you to be with me right now. I know this isn’t an easy choice but I have never been more sure about anything in my life.” 

Jongseong kisses all over your face, each one a receipt of his sincerity.

His words strike straight into your heart. He’s serious. A part of you wants to still feel guilty like you’re forcing him into this but on the other hand, he’s right. You’ve given him a multitude of opportunities to leave and find a girl who will cater to him, but he hasn’t. 

He doesn’t need to because all he needs is you and your love, to Jongseong, that is all he needs in his life.

“Okay, but if you ever change your min-”

He interjects with a kiss, one filled with so much happiness and love that it’s almost intoxicating; either that or all the booze in his system has transferred its way into your bloodstream. 

You giggle as he rolls over on top of you again, peppering loud and wet kisses all over your face and neck akin to a dog licking you from utter joy. Your hands try to fight him off playfully, your laugh growing louder as he nuzzles into your neck.

“Oh, wait!” Your lover's sudden pause catches your attention, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he swiftly rolls off the bed and rushes over to the messy pile on the chair by his dresser.

Curious, you crane your neck to see what he's up to, watching as he retrieves something from the floor.

“What is it?” you inquire, intrigued by his enthusiasm.

Turning back to you, Jongseong holds up the familiar torn sheet of paper that you recognise instantly, his smile lighting up his face. He grabs a pen from the desk and returns to your side, handing you both items.

“Tick it off,” he urges, pointing to the bottom of the page where a new addition was made yesterday morning. Despite his internal conflict about the list, he couldn't bring himself to tear it up. If he never saw you again, this would be a precious memory to hold onto.

So he added a new aspiration at the bottom.

Taking the pen from his hand, you read it slowly, “Make Y/N mine again..”

You gaze up at him in awe, understanding the significance of this gesture and how much the list means to him, “You wished for this?” you ask, to which he simply nods at your question, “Then you need to tick it off.” You push the pen and paper back to him but he stops you.

“No, you made the wish come true, so you need to tick it off,” he replies, the corners of his lips upturning slightly.

So with the pen, you draw a line over the words, scoring it off once and for all as you beam proudly, happy that both of your souls are now joined together again. You pull him in for a long, deep kiss, the bucket list discarded as you lose yourselves in the moment once again.

#enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen angst #jay smut #park jongseong smut #aj writes #jay x reader #park jongseong x reader

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

HI SWEETIE I HAVE A REQUEST!! i hope you dont mind!

so, bucky and f!reader, maybe married and they have a baby together. after that time of recovery reader is a bit shy of her own body cause it's been a while since they did it and she isnt back at her pre-pregnancy weight and bucky is absolutely like mind blown by her beauty? like, nearly drooling? and please can you add body worship on this?

i seriously hope it's okay for you, but if it's not please ignore this!

HII BBY!! I love love love it. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

DEFLECTION.

​bucky barnes x fem!reader (married & parents) — comfort

word count. 1031

disclaimer. the hair colour and type has no significance to the writing. the gif just suits the theme of this fic. also please read the ask carefully

Only a few short months ago, you gave birth to a healthy baby girl - a daughter you shared with your husband, Bucky. Very quickly she became the sole focus of your attention, neither of you having much time to do anything like you used to. 

Consequently, your sex life had taken a hit, and not because of the significant decrease in quality time, but instead something far more complex.

So far, motherhood has been a slight struggle to adjust to - the differences in your life between then and now are almost stark. You've been trying to adapt to all the changes that come with it, the main being your new body. You've been feeling shy and insecure with your new shape, often feeling like the weight will never drop off to what you looked like before.

It was hard to digest the change.

You were in the bathroom to freshen up, your eyes looking back at you in the mirror almost pitifully - your gaze travelling down, honing in on your stomach through your once baggy tee.

"They're here," Bucky calls from the other room, his voice putting a hold on the thoughts in your mind.

You step out of the bathroom, meeting your husband and daughter by the front door, a pink baby bag slung over his shoulder.

He notices the downcast direction of your eyes, seeing the way you tried to pull away from his attention. "Everything okay?" he asks you, rocking his little girl in his arms, bouncing her when she makes a noise.

You hum, walking closer to say goodbye to your baby - running a finger over her soft cheek. 

He doesn't believe you, though he waits for it to be just the two of you before he can question it. He doesn't want to create a situation before your parents arrive to pick up your daughter. They offered to have her for a few hours to give you both some respite.

The second the door closes, and it's just the two of you again, he turns to look at you - his brows curled up inquisitively.

"Now, what's really going on?" he asks, referring to all those times you shut yourself off from him - primarily that one a few minutes ago.

You turn away, heading to the kitchen to get a drink. "Going on with what?" you deflect, trying to avoid the topic.

He follows you, standing behind you at the sink - his arms wrapping around your middle, chin resting over your shoulder. 

But he's too close to where you don't want him, so you flinch at his touch, moving his hands away from your tummy and stretching the hem of your top - pulling on the fabric.

Bucky rips his hands from you, your avoidance of his touch making things whirl in his mind. "You don't like that anymore?" he asks, stepping aside to face the side of you.

"I do... just— just not right now," you reply, taking a quick sip of water before moving across the kitchen - heading towards the fridge. "Tired, feel gross," you shrug, trying to ease the tension you accidentally created. 

"That's not it," he softly shakes his head, eyes focused on you even though every glance goes unreciprocated. "It's something else."

"Just need a nap and shower," you partially lie, pulling out two apples, handing him one.

He doesn't accept your attempt at deflection, instead turning it down. "No, it's something else," he continues, his eyes glued to the side of your face. "And you're afraid of saying it."

"I'm not," you softly protest, voice quiet.

"So it is something else," he mutters, the unknown confession of you making things easier for him, harder for you.

You're cornered. You sigh and nod faintly, closing the door of the fridge. 

"What is it? Please talk to me," he reaches for your hand, fingers wrapping themselves around yours. "It's just the two of us, no distractions... what's been going on?"

"It's hard to get used to," you start, pausing to think of what to say next.

"What is? Being a mom?" he asks, noticing your focused gaze on the baby stuff on the counter. 

You nod, pausing once more. "Not just that," you exhale, shrugging. "Everything's changed."

"With us?" he asks, hand tightening in yours. 

"With me," you correct, looking down at your hand in his. "I've changed, and I'm not used to it... I don't like it."

"How have you changed?" he questions, trying to prompt more answers from you. 

"My body has," you softly reply, trying not to squirm at your confession. "My boobs, tummy, my hair. The weight is taking longer to come off than I thought, and I feel— I feel like a..." you go quiet, not wanting to finish your sentence.

However, Bucky's not done coaxing words from you. His face softens when you finally meet his gaze, his features inviting and knowing. "Feel like a what?" he whispers.

"I don't know," you shrug again.

"'You are not your thoughts'," he says, reciting those words you've said to him countless times after his nightmares. Though now he's repurposing them to someone else who needs them, you. "I repeat that saying in my head all the time. Do you know who taught me that?" he asks, his gaze honing in on you - trying to stop you from looking away.

"Me," you whisper. 

"That's right," he nods, bringing his spare hand to cup your cheek. "You need to use that same kindness to yourself. And right now," he starts, pressing a kiss into your lips. "You have never looked more beautiful to me."

You softly frown, the rest of your features relaxing.

"Your body gave us a daughter," he smiles. "You made her. You may or may not get your ‘old body back.’ But the one you have now is perfect too.”

"Thank you," your voice cracks, the sweet words of your lover soothing all the doubts in your mind. You envelop him in an embrace, arms hugging around him in the ways you've recently longed for. "I mean it."

His arms wrap around you just as tight, one hand running up your spine. "So do I.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes comfort #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic

[ddarker-dreams]

do you have any hcs of what the yan genshin boys would b like when darlings on her period?

i'm gonna rank them from best to worst when it comes to dealing with this . let's see how they do.

best

zhongli is on top of his game. it's like he was born for the sole purpose of pampering you when you're under the weather. he'll insist on you taking it easy, drinking soothing teas, eating nutritious meals, and taking medication for whichever symptoms are the most prominent. if he seems oddly content, it's because he is. he won't state it outright, but he wants to leave the impression that him being in the position to care for you like this is worth the sacrifice of some... freedom. he knows of herbs and remedies to help make the experience as painless as possible.

kazuha already dotes on you as if you were royalty. while he leads a rather transient lifestyle, he puts your travels on pause to ensure you're properly cared for. he's sweet to a degree that'd be condescending from anyone else, but because it's kazuha and it's completely genuine, you can't call him out on it. he'll lay your head down on his lap and softly recite poetry until you doze off. he might not know much about periods specifically, but he treats it as if you were injured and need to be nursed back to health. he makes you your favorite meals from ingredients foraged locally. considers it a privilege on his part to be able to care for you. warmth blossoms in his chest whenever you have no choice but to ask him for something, your pride temporarily discarded.

albedo knows when your period is about to start before it even crosses your mind. he calculates every phase of your cycle and writes the important dates down in a calendar. he's all about preemptive care, he'll give you some concoctions of his own making the night before your period is due to start so you don't even have to worry about cramp pain. if you've been particularly troublesome lately, he might withhold this miracle elixir until you butter him up. he doesn't come outright and tell you this either, you have to do some trial and error to discern the specifics. as an alchemist, anything to do with the functions necessary to create life greatly fascinate him.

childe has sisters, so he's roughly familiar with how unpleasant periods are. he'll grin and reassure you that a little blood has never frightened him. thinks you're the cutest thing ever when you have to rely on him more. he's happy to oblige and is surprisingly intuitive about requests you never state verbally. he makes the tastiest soups, the kind that warm you from head to toe with every bite. there's no use trying to pretend you don't like it because he knows. he calms down on his tendency to tease you, since in his view, it's never his intent to actively make you feel distraught (unless you've acted out in a way that puts you in danger).

cyno means well (probably) but can come off as a little overbearing. he's literally breathing down your neck and constantly reminding you that if you need anything, just say the word. he's carrying you around, bringing you meals in bed, running all over town to get that one snack he knows you love; he's nothing if not dedicated. the thought of you being uncomfortable, much less in pain, is unbearable. when you do fall asleep, he's peeking into the room every five or ten minutes. every time you get your period, should any blood get on the sheets, he'll look you dead in the eye and ask if you've gotten in a fight lately. when you don't laugh, he starts explaining the joke, so it's better to force a chuckle.

diluc is just awkward about it. he refers to it as 'your time of the month' but even choking those words out is a struggle. he considers it to be a very private occurrence and thinks it'd be polite to tiptoe around the subject, as if it were taboo. the staff at dawn winery make further accommodations for you — everything you could ever want is a ring away. he's normally skeptical about you going outside, but since you're under the weather, he'll grant your request. if you're observant, you'll notice he's more inclined to give into your whims during this time. just don't get too carried away or he'll say he knows what you're doing at pointblank.

scaramouche is mostly annoyed that you're going to be more cranky for a while. your attention is essentially his lifeblood, but when you don't feel well, you're focusing on that instead of him. kind of inconsiderate tbh. once asked dottore if there's a way to prevent this, but dropped the idea when the harbinger said 'it only requires a few organs to be removed.' scaramouche would prefer your organs remain as is. he'll sigh and huff about how lucky you are to have him while spoon-feeding you, despite the fact he secretly enjoys it. his words are a whopping 10% nicer until you start to feel better, something he is frequently reminding you of. when your period is finished, he keeps staring in your general direction, fully expecting you to trip over yourself to thank him for his benevolence. if being delusional is a game, then he's winning.

when it comes to xiao, he's not awful per se, but this is likely his first encounter with menstruation, so you have to explain everything about it. he gets a bit freaked out the first time you wake up to bloody sheets, although you wouldn't be able to tell unless you closely observe his body language. he's somewhat at a loss when you explain what you need during your period and probably doesn't grab all the right things. he makes you eat these awfully bitter herbs that are supposed to help with pain. also makes some watery tea but gives you such a hopeful look, you don't have the heart to complain about the taste.

worst

#yandere zhongli x reader #zhongli x reader #kazuha x reader #yandere kazuha x reader #yandere albedo x reader #albedo x reader #yandere cyno x reader #cyno x reader #childe x reader #yandere childe x reader #diluc x reader #yandere diluc x reader #yandere scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x reader #xiao x reader #yandere xiao x reader #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #my stuff #answered #Anonymous

[flawless-peach]

change your life ✨️

feel free to join me in this. I'm going to try to post every day about how I did <3

- get at least 7 consecutive hours of sleep. I've found if I go to sleep and then wake up back for a couple hours and then finish the 8 hours I feel I incredibly unrested. I keep myself accountable by using pokemon sleep which has a great alarm, so I'm looking forward to trying this instead

- read or listen to an audiobook for 30 minutes. literacy is a muscle, and using it is important, but sometimes I can't just sit down and read a book, and audiobooks are great for when I'm cleaning or cooking or folding laundry

- get sun daily. humans are a lot more like plants than you would think and so it is important to get some sun, even when it's a wintery sun that's cold or when it's a blazing furnace. Since I have some mental health issues and am unable to go outside im going to at least open my curtains, and if possible, crack a window to get some fresh air

- start a hobby you can enjoy. this one can be difficult because a lot of things require some sort of financial investment. for me, my hobbies for these six months is going to be writing and annotating books. but being creative is great for the human mind.

- learn to be comfortable alone. honestly this one will be difficult. personally, I live in a studio. privacy is nothing i experience, butthe little moments where you find yourself escaping with TV playing or music pause it and sit with yourself, how else can you learn to love someone if you avoid them 🥰

- meditate daily. this will be something I struggle with so much, but I'm going to try in the mornings since that's my peak time <3 and that's when I plan on doing a yoga flow during the sunrise

- eat healthy nutritious food. I hate cooking and I hate eating. having autism can make these really difficult for me to do, but I'm really really trying. I started the week before last to work on figuring out what snack foods I can prep, and now i just need to work on planning out some meals.

- positive affirmations everyday. I really struggle to have positive self talk because it feels so awkward and uncomfortable because I've been pessimistic for so long, but I want to change that ^^

- reduce screen time. this is going to be specifically targetting mindless scrolling for me. I have a tiktok account that I use for motivation, same with my tumblr account, and I also read on my phone and use my sleep app that I need to keep open at night.

- practice gratitude. my goal is to at night reflect on the day to try and find the good. I already reflect on my days and pick a mood, but I want to create lists of things i am grateful for, especially while I'm in between jobs.

#aesthetic #clean girl #motivation #vanilla girl #photo collection #routine #self care aesthetic #self healing #self improvement #self impowerment #self love #peachy days #that girl

[itsswritten]

Share your pain.

Request: From anon “Hiiii would you write reader saying something hurtful to az during an argument (established relationship btw)??? And az gets upset over it but they later make up and it ends in fluff? I'm sorry I'm obsessed with hurt/comfort 😔”

Pairing: azriel x reader

Word count: 2.3K

Warings: Angst, nightmares…I think that’s it. Let me know if I’ve missed anything.

Summary: In the wake of a heated argument, you and Azriel find yourselves adrift, the once unbreakable bond strained... :(

A/n: hi again, hope you enjoy this. First time I’ve written a bit of angst for Azriel. Let me know what you all think! <3 - L

The air in your bedroom hung heavy, the usual sanctuary of rest and reprieve now echoing with the bitter remnants of a lovers' quarrel. You hadn’t meant for things to get this tense, but as the moon cast long shadows across your bedroom, there was no denying the unresolved tension between Azriel and you.

The first six months of your mating had been a whirlwind of passion and frenzy, a time you fondly recalled. The initial intensity of the bond was like a wildfire, consuming everything in its path. You had known Azriel more intimately than anyone else, or so you thought.

Yet, as the months rolled on, the veneer of your relationship began to crack. Despite the depth of your bond, Azriel remained an enigma, his troubles hidden beneath layers you couldn't penetrate. Initially, this mystery was part of the intrigue you loved about him. But as the struggles of the war haunted him, manifesting in nightmares that would leave him thrashing in the solitude of his own battles, the barriers between you grew thicker.

This particular night had been no different. Azriel, caught in the clutches of a haunting dream, had awoken hot and thrashing.

"Az… let me help you" you whispered, reaching out with a tenderness only a mate could offer.

But he pulled away. Recoiling from your touch and standing by the side of the bed. He erected an invisible barrier, refusing the solace you offered and, as always, shutting you off from the bond. 

The rejection hurt.

At times, he would freeze over, pulling a wall up so high to stop his feelings from spilling over to yours. Initially, you assumed it was to spare you the pain he felt, but with time, it began to feel like mistrust.

"Please, Azriel," you pleaded, the use of his full name an attempt to bridge the growing chasm between you. "Don't shut me out."

"Y/n…Don't" he bit back sharply, a flash of frustration in his eyes. The lump in your throat grew, emotions simmering beneath the surface. You were on your feet now too, flimsy night shorts and a vest hanging loosely on your frame, while the air around you turned cold. Any remaining shadows that had been soothing your skin fled to their master to comfort him.

"Is this how it's going to be, then?" you asked, your voice strained with the weight of unspoken grievances.

This was never how you imagined having a mate would be like.

Cold and lonely.

Your fingers played with the bottom hem of your sleep shorts while trying to muster through your feelings. Trying to keep calm, find the right words to soothe your partner, but no matter what you did or said, it never worked, and you began to doubt if you were the person he even wanted to find comfort in.

Your chest seized, a pang of hurt rolling through. You had hoped Azriel could feel the anguish he was putting you through, but of course, that ice wall was built up. It not only stopped you from seeing into him, but it rejected any connection from you too.

You had been suppressing your own needs and feelings for far too long, prioritising his pain over your own. You could feel the anger begging to spill over your edges.

“We might as well not be mates..” you choked out.

A gasp left Azriel’s lips as he said your name, disbelief clouding his expression at such a notion.

You knew it was a cruel thing to say.

Azriel had been waiting for this type of connection all his life. He had told you that you were worth the centuries of waiting. And even though you knew he loved you dearly, and his intentions were never malicious, he was hurting you. 

Selfishly, you wanted to hurt him back.

“Maybe you’re better off alone with your shadows” you bit out spitefully.

His gaze shattered, a flicker of pain mirroring your own. As if the mere mention of his shadows had drained the strength from him, they slumped in a rare display of vulnerability. Before he could utter another word, unable to bear the weight of your words, you stormed out of your bedroom, and out of the House of Wind.

~~~

Days passed in an agonising blur, the weight of your words lingering in the air like a heavy stormcloud. That night, you had winnowed away to a friend's apartment in the city, seeking refuge far from the House of Wind. Leaving those walls behind offered a semblance of peace, though you remained unsure of how to navigate this situation under the prying eyes of the Inner Circle.

Your friends were always lovely, but it was hard to escape the fact that they were Azriel's friends first. Azriel’s family. 

Lily, an old study companion, opened her home to you without hesitation, setting up her spare room and insisting you stay as long as needed. In moments like these, you regretted letting go of your own apartment. In the frenzy of the mating bond, you had moved in with Azriel, opting for proximity to his friends and his high lord's court.

The morning after the fight, Azriel had sent a ripple down the bond.

"Can we talk, love?"

You instantly rejected his call, erecting your own emotional barrier around the bond. The irony wasn't lost on you �� you were now doing the very thing that hurt you, mirroring Azriel's tendency to shut you off. 

Perhaps a taste of his own medicine was warranted?

You had been an open book for him, laying your wounds and traumas bare. Despite the difficulty of discussing certain matters, you wanted Azriel to know every part of you. 

Yet, here you were, mimicking his defensive actions.

Azriel could probably find you if he wished. As the Spymaster of the Night Court, he likely knew your location without relying on the bond. Although he had never visited Lily's place, you were sure his shadows had scoured the city for you as soon as you left that night.

You missed them. His little minions, you would call them as a way to tease him. Always at his beck and call, and quick to caress you, much like his own touches

A pang of guilt washed over you as you recalled his expression before you left.

"Maybe you're better off alone with your shadows."

It had been a petty, low blow from you. Azriel had confided in the past that he once worried it would only ever be him and his shadows, that he was somehow cursed to not find love, companionship, a life partner. 

A soft rap at the door interrupted your thoughts. You had secluded yourself in Lily's apartment for four days now, ignoring any attempts from Rhysand to contact you mentally. 

“Y/n…It’s me” the soft female voice spoke behind the door. Feyre.

You invited your friend in. Quickly popping the kettle on and making you both tea. You sank into the plush sofa next to Feyre, bringing your teacups to the coffee table in front of you as you both idled in general chit chat. 

“How is Rhys? …and everyone?” You asked. You hadn’t realised till not being there how much the inner circle had become integrated into your life. Your days often spent with laughter over meals, mornings spent sparring with Cassain and your afternoons filled with fun company of the girls. 

And of course the nights, spent all consumed with your mate.

“Everyone is good” Feyre spoke, her smile dropping at the edges “Well not everyone” she spoke honestly. Feyre gently guided the conversation toward the true reason for her visit.

"I'm sure you know why I'm here," she said, her eyes filled with a mixture of understanding and concern.

"Did Azriel send you to check on me?" you asked, a hint of scepticism in your voice.

Feyre's hurt was palpable. "Y/N, I came here to check on you. I’ve been worried about you. We all have.” Your own gaze softened, embarrassed at the harsh assumption you had made. 

“But I would be lying if I didn't say I didn't come partially because of Azriel. I'm worried about him too. He's not acting like himself, not sleeping, not eating, avoiding us all…even Rhys and Cassian."

Your heart hurt. The bond aching at the news of your mate suffering.

"I know you want to punish him," Feyre added gently.

"I don't want to punish him," you replied, though a part of you realised that, in a way, you were. Hurting him the exact same way he had hurt you.

Feyre sighed, her gaze never leaving yours. "I get it, trust me I do. But just come home, please" she pleaded.

You sat as you recalled what she had said. Perhaps it was time. 

~~~

You waited for Rhysand to dispatch Azriel on a task before returning, unsure if you were ready to face him immediately. Feyre had kept you informed, grateful for her assistance in navigating this delicate situation.

Avoiding your shared bedroom, the space now haunted by the memories of your recent argument – you sought refuge on one of the balconies overlooking the city. The night had descended, casting the realm below into a humming sea of lights beneath the purple midnight sky.

Perched on a comfortable lounge chair, a blanket draped around you, you found solace in a book you had forgotten about. Left untouched when you departed, was laid waiting on the bedside table for you when you returned. In fact the entire bedroom looked untouched, the bedsheets had not been warmed for a while.

He’s not been sleeping. You remembered Feyre’s words from earlier, the realisation breaking you a little at your mates pain.

Deciding it was time to address the tension that lingered between you and Azriel, you closed the book and set it aside. Breaking down the emotional barrier hastily erected around the bond, you sent a gentle ripple through the thread – a subtle breath to signal your readiness to talk.

Hoping Azriel had concluded whatever task had taken him away, you pondered on the fact that, even without the ripple, he would likely sense your return. His keen senses, coupled with the vigilance of his shadows and network of spies, made you a detectable presence. You understood your mate well enough to know though that he wouldn't intrude if you needed space. 

The ripple was your invitation, an indication that you were ready to see him.

The first sign of his return was the wind, a gentle breeze brushing across your face as Azriel's wings beat the air upon his descent. Looking up, you caught your breath at the sight of your godly partner. It took a conscious effort to regain your composure, resisting the urge to succumb to the overwhelming emotions stirred by his presence.

“My love…” he breathed. He looked tired, dark circles under his eyes and a ruggedness that was unusual for him.

“Azriel,” you spoke his full name, tilting your head to encourage him to join you on the lounge chair. Instead, he stepped forward, dropping to his knees in front of you. 

Cauldron give me strength; he was so painstakingly beautiful. 

His large hands found your lap, yours naturally finding his fingers, tracing the harsh lines that covered them.

"I've been giving this a lot of thought," he began, his voice a low murmur. "I never meant to shut you out, Y/N. I’m so sorry”

You nodded, your eyes settling on his hazel gaze. Letting your mate speak his truth, his own self-reflections.

“It’s just always been me. Me and my shadows,” he smiled, glancing over to the little grey flurries that were now tangled up in your hair. “So when I finally met you, got you…I was scared,” he admitted. “Scared, my demons might repulse you, terrify you, make you leave me. It was... instinct. To protect myself."

Your gaze softened, the realisation settling in that the barrier Azriel erected wasn't out of a lack of trust, but rather a reflex born from deep-seated pain. 

"Azriel," you spoke gently, "I don't want to dictate how you deal with your trauma.” Your hand moved to his face now, thumb rubbing his cheek gently. He breathed in at your touch, closing his eyes at the intimacy he had missed for days. “But I need you to trust in us, in me. Let me share the burden, even if it's just a fraction."

Azriel's shoulders sagged, a mixture of relief and regret evident in his eyes. "I want to, Y/N."

"I understand it won't happen overnight. I just need you to believe that I'm here, that you don't have to carry everything on your own."

The vulnerability in your words mirrored Azriel's, creating a fragile bridge between you. His shadows, attuned to the subtleties of emotion, responded by weaving gently around you. 

"I'm sorry for the things I said," you admitted, humility colouring your voice. "I never should have pushed you like that. It's not my place to demand you share those things with me."

Azriel shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. "No, you're right. I need to change, to let you in more. It's just hard, but I'm willing to try."

A shared understanding passed between you, a silent pact to navigate the complexities of healing together. 

"Let's start fresh," he proposed, sincerity in his eyes.

You nodded with a gentle smile on your face. The mating bond buzzed. Azriel leaned over, his lips pressing against yours in a not-so-subtle, hungry kiss.

“Now come here” He growled with a teasing grin, you screamed lightly as he pulled you into his arms as he stood. He looked at you with a feral glint in his eyes.

We have some catching up to do, my love.

#acotar #angst #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar azriel #acotar series #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel x y/n #acotar x reader

[forever-rogue]

I have a pretty personal request ❤️ (and I completely understand if you don't feel comfortable writing it.)

But I have been struggling with self-esteem and acceptance of myself since gaining some weight. I know I'm beautiful, but that stupid, nagging voice in the back of my head can be a bitch.

I came up with an idea about reader who's in an established relationship with Joel Miller. They've settled into Jackson, and with the changes that come with that stability, she's noticed the changes in her own body and has to deal with it. I can just imagine how soft and fluffy Joel would be once he's made aware of what she's dealing with.

Or maybe I just really need a Joel of my own to cuddle and tell me I'm beautiful 🥺🥰

Thank you!!

AN | Here you go, I hope you enjoy! Also, a friendly reminder that you're lovely just the way you are 🥰

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language, Weight Discussion

Word Count | 2k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

This was the first time you'd looked at yourself in a mirror in a long time. Like properly looked at yourself. You'd been in Jackson for a few months now and were experiencing a stability that you hadn't known in so long. It still felt odd some days, waking up next to Joel in a warm, soft bed without having to worry about anything. But it was slowly becoming your normal life and while it was an adjustment, you were beginning to love it. 

Happiness and peace looked good on Joel and Ellie. And you. But, and this was what had been nagging you, lingering in the back of your mind, you'd noticed some physical changes as well as everything else. You'd felt them before you'd fully looked at them - at yourself.

The bathroom boasted a large mirror but you usually didn't spend a while lot of time looking at yourself. You hadn't for years, so why start now?

Well, the simple answer was that now the changes were undeniable. 

With a heavy sigh, you closed the bathroom door and glanced at yourself. Your face was a little fuller than you'd remembered, the darkness around your eyes lessened. Your skin looked good and your hair was styled and shiny. These were the changes you liked to see. You noticed the same, more or less, on Joel and Ellie too. 

It was the rest you were worried about. You shucked off your sweater and pajamas pants and slowly allowed yourself to look over your body. You didn’t fixate on your body too much; for a long time survival and getting through your day to day was all that was on your mind. But now it felt like you had all the time in the world. 

As you looked yourself over, you could see that there had been some physical changes. You looked softer, your tummy and hips fuller than you’d remembered since you were young, your thighs bigger as well. You sighed to yourself and turned on the showers before you could think too much about it. It wasn’t a big deal, you reminded yourself, it wasn’t a big deal. 

You heard a knock on the door before it was slowly pushed open and Joel poked his head, “hey sweetheart, got room for one more?”

You panicked for a moment, trying to figure out how you could manage to get out of this one, “umm, I’m almost done actually. I’ll be out in a second and then its all yours.”

“Alright,” he lingered for a moment; you knew that he knew that something was up. Joel wasn’t stupid and he was very perceptive, “sounds good. Everything alright?”

“Of course,” you almost choked on the lie, “everything’s fine.”

Joel made a small sound before gently closing the door. You tried to swallow back your tears but soon enough they were running down your cheeks and mixing in with the stream from the shower.

It was just another change and it would be okay. You’d get there eventually…you hoped.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hey baby,” Joel found you as you were in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for dinner, a small smile on his face. He’d noticed that you’d been acting a little off but didn’t want to push it, he knew that you’d go to him when you were ready to.

“Hi Joel,” you looked up and offered him a smile you hoped mirrored his own, “what’s up?”

“Nothing,” he insisted softly as he came over to you, “just wanted to see my girl.”

You tutted at him softly as he came to stand behind you, wrapping an arm around your middle as he leaned his chin on your shoulder. You froze for a moment, sure that he was going to make some sort of comment about how soft or squishy your body was but he said nothing, instead pressing some kisses to your shoulder. You stopped what you were doing, closing your eyes and leaning into him, “Joel.”

“I love you, you know,” he whispered before you slowly turned around in his arms so you could face him. He reached up and put his hand on your face, slowly brushing his thumb over your cheek. 

“I know,” you promised, leaning into his touch and turning your face so you could press a kiss to his palm, “I love you too.”

He watched you for a moment before leaning in to kiss you. You decided not to think too much about, not to worry about anything, and instead leaned into him and kissed him right back. It had been a bit since the two of you had a bit of time alone, and you hadn’t helped anything but pulling away from him whenever it was just the two of you. But you’d missed this and missed him, his touch, his everything. 

You relaxed into his touch, letting him kiss you dizzy. Eventually his hands wandered down to your hips and that caused you to freeze up. You put your hands on his forearms and pulled away from him, breaking the kiss. Joel, good man that he was, stopped immediately and let go of you. You shook your head, more at yourself than anything else and blinked back your tears, “sorry, I just…it’s me.”

“It’s alright,” he whispered softly, “you don’t have to apologize. If you want to talk about whatever’s been going on, I’m here. You know that, I ain’t going anywhere. I love you.”

You inhaled deeply before slowly letting it all out and nodded, “thank you.”

“Do you want a hand finishing dinner?”

“Yes,” you appreciated the kind and gentle man that he was, “I’d like that a lot.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You walked into the bedroom, finding Joel already in bed and reading. You closed the door and leaned against, looking him over for a moment. He paused after a moment and looked up at you before marking his page and setting it to the side, “penny for your thoughts?”

You nodded slowly before making your way to the bed, sitting cross-legged on top of the covers next to him. There were a few moments of silence as you sat there and picked at a few loose strands on the hem of your sweater. Joel reached out and gave your knee a gentle squeeze. You reached for his hand and weaved your fingers through his, “I don’t want you to hate me.”

“Baby,” a small huff of laughter escaped him but his voice was low and gentle, “I don’t know what you could have done or do that would ever make me hate you. That’s impossible.”

“It’s just…I don’t know,” you shrugged, reassured a little bit that he wouldn’t hate you anyway, “I really like it here in Jackson. I’ve liked it since we’ve been here. But I think I’ve gotten too comfortable.”

“Too comfortable?” he repeated slowly, “ain’t that a good thing?”

“It’s….my body,” you admitted reluctantly, “I look different…I’ve gained weight. I don’t look like I used.”

“Okay,” he brought your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. You were a bit taken aback by his nonchalant response, “I guess I don’t understand why it’s a big deal. But I want to understand.”

“I…because I look different and I was worried that you wouldn’t want me anymore.”

“That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard,” he tugged on your hand in a small attempt to pull you closer, “there’s nothing you could do to make me love you any less. That includes your body changing - happens to everyone. I’ve grown a little softer around the middle since we’ve been there but I haven’t heard you complaining. We’ve all grown comfortable here, but that’s a good thing, it means we’re safe and home and we’re living. Not just alive, but living.”

“I…hadn’t thought about it that way,” you whispered, “I hadn’t really noticed anything different about you.

“See? It didn’t matter to you, why would it matter to me? And even if it wasn’t any of those things, it wouldn’t matter to me. I love you,” you were perched on his lap now, looking at him with soft eyes. His hands settled on your hips and he gave them a gentle squeeze, “besides, ain’t nothing wrong with a little thicker, baby.”

“Joel,” you were laughing now, but a few tears managed to run down your cheeks; but these ones weren’t of sadness. He wiped them away tenderly, “thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” he insisted, “I’m just telling you how it is. Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Is this why you’ve been avoiding me and only had sex in the total darkness?” admittedly it sounded silly when he said it like that. Your face warmed up as you bit your lip and shyly nodded. That look on its own was enough to make him practically melt, “oh baby.”

“It didn’t seem stupid at the time!” you burrowed your face in your hands to try and hide but he pulled your hands away from your face, “don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not, it’s affectionate,” he grinned, “you also don’t think I noticed anything. I might be dumb at times, but I ain’t stupid.”

“But you didn’t…say anything,” you cocked your head to the side as he raised an eyebrow.

“Again…why would I have?”

“You’re the best,” you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned in to hug him, clinging onto him like a koala, “I love you so much.”

“I love you,” he pressed a kiss to the side of your head, “no matter what either of us look like. You’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“No you’re just trying to flatter me,” you snorted in amusement as you pulled back to look at him, “don’t look at me like that with those big brown eyes, Miller. That’s cheating!”

“It’s not flattery, it’s the truth,” he said, “and I’ll look at you any which way I want. Okay?”

“Okay,” you teased, “whatever you say.”

“That’s right,” he nodded in agreement, “now take off this sweater and leave the light on…only if you want to though.”

“Now that I can do,” you grinned, “gladly.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #tlou #pedro pascal

[samkerrworshipper]

Hi how have you been?💗 Would you maybe consider writing some angst for Alexia/Barcelona x reader where like maps and Ingrid start start to notice reader getting thinner and eating less but Alexia is so wrapped up in media and stuff that she doesn’t notice until reader faints at training. Then Mapi shouts at alexia and there’s some angst but it has a softer ending? ❤️

i remember everything.

alexia putellas x reader

warnings: eating disorders, pain n angst with a softer ending.

“Ale we’re losing her.”

Alexia hated a lot of things, winter, bad drivers, the colour orange, the Spanish federation, France, patchy makeup and cherry flavoured candy. The thing at the very top of her list though, was people telling her what to do. Alexia was the best player in the world, she was a force to be reckoned with, she did not need people telling her what to do with her life or relationships.

“Maria, she’s my fucking fiance, I would know if something was wrong with her, this is none of your business.”

Alexia was typing furiously at her phone, something that she seemed to always be doing lately. If you were lucky enough to catch her time for a few minutes, chances were her attention would end up being caught by replying to some email or text from her agent and manager. It was never ending, and anybody who had been a part of Alexia’s life before and after her had seen just how much her life had changed in the past two years. In this instance, Mapi and Alexia were out for drinks, trying to catch up but it was proving to be impossible with most of Alexia’s attention on whatever it was she was replying to this time.

“This is what I’m talking about, you don’t have enough time to talk face to face with your best friend, how does that prove to me that you have enough time to look out for your girlfriend?”

Alexia’s eyes rose from her phone, her fingers pausing.

“Maps, I know my fiance, I’d know if she had a eating disorder, I’d know if she was struggling, I lie in bed with her every night, I wake up with her every morning, I train with her everyday, I know her.”

Mapi’s eyebrow rose up at her forehead, it was weird for Alexia to meet her gaze, something she hadn’t experienced in a long time.

“When was the last time she was sick? When was the last time she burnt something in your kitchen? When was the last time your dog ran away? You wouldn’t know because every time those things have happened in the last few months she’s called me, because you’ve been out of town. You're busy, we all understand it, not everybody can be La Reina, not everyone is you, but not everybody is your fiance. Her smile that normally lights up the room, it’s not there anymore, nothing about her is the same anymore, and I’ll be damned if she dies on your watch because you are being too insolent to acknowledge it.”

Mapi stood up from her seat at the bar, downing the rest of her dirty martini and giving Alexia a final parting frown.

“Go home to your fiance and actually look at her, eye to eye, lover to lover, and try and tell yourself that she is fine.”

Mapi exited the bar, disgruntled by her failed attempt at an intervention with Alexia, the slightly older woman simply didn’t want to listen to her and what was Mapi supposed to do about that? Alexia was stubborn and bullheaded, but she was like Mapi’s sister, she was Mapi’s blood, more than anybody else. Mapi had no idea where she’d be without Alexia, possibly dead in a ditch somewhere. Alexia had been the fristr person to haul her out of bed on a bad day, drag her out of clubs when she was so drunk she couldn’t see straight, Alexia was tough love, she forced Mapi to live until Mapi herself wanted to live. Mapi was more than grateful, but she also wasn’t going to let the love of Alexia’s life slowly kill herself because Alexia was too consumed with her own career to even realise.

The drive home for Alexia was slow and stressful in a way she’d never experienced. Alexia in her heart wanted to believe Mapi was wrong, because how could she be right? Alexia saw you everyday, she knew you better than anybody else, and she hadn’t noticed any of the things that Mapi had been talking about.

When Alexia does get home it’s to a silent house with no lights on, something thats fairly regular for her, considering the abnormal hours she normally egts home at. She leaves her keys and coat at the front door, reaches down to pet Nala who she must have woken up because the fluff ball has major bedhead. Alexia pours herself a glass of water from the tap before cautiously making her way into your bedroom. When she does finally make it to the door it’s hanging open, you sat on the bed, the lamp being the only source of lighting whilst you read from underneath it. You look so peaceful, so perfect, that Alexia considers leaving, sleeping on the couch. But she’s too angry, too consumed with her feelings, too emotional to take into account how much her actions affect you. She figures that in the last few months she’s probably drifted from you more than she's come close, which is probably concerning considering that the months leading up to a wedding you are supposed to be in premarital bliss.

“You didn’t have to wait up.”

Alexia’s voice is even, she moves into your shared wardrobe, pulling off her slacks and crop top and searching for a pair of her pyjamas.

“How was your day?”

You sound so hopeful, so curious. This is the only time of day msot weeks that you get to talk to Alexia and when it’s not too late you try your hardest to stay awake, hopeful tat maybe this time Alexia will return your eagerness.

“Fine.”

Alexia finally finds her pyjama shirt and shorts and changes into them quickly before moving back inot the bedroom.

“O-kay, how are you, how was Mapi?”

There’s so much hope in your voice, something that Alexia hates. She lets her eyes roam your body quickly, discreetly, not in a way that would make you think she was trying to start anything. She doesn’t see anything different. She doesn’t notice the fact that you no longer wear short sleeves or cropped shirts anymore. She doesn’t notice that your ribs now jut out from your skin, instead of being covered by a healthy amount of skin and fat, how could she? She doesn’t notice the patches across your scalp that are now missing hair, she doesn’t know that you no longer get your period, she doesn’t notice that your nails are now brittle and crusty, something that you’ve come to hate about yourself, just another dot point on the list of things that you detest about your body.

“Good.”

Alexia’s one word answer hurt your soul, more than Alexia ever had.

“If you don’t want to talk you can just say that.”

Alexia doesn’t slip under the covers like she’d planned to, instead her jaw clenches and hardens, a defence mechanism of hers that you’d never manage to crack.

“What are you talking about, we’re talking, I’m just tired.”

Your face falls at her snap, your eyes falling back to your book and marking your page before dropping it down on your bedside table, a little huff leaving your lips as your eyes drift upwards to meet Alexias.

“Alright, you must be absolutely exhausted every single time we talk then.”

It’s bold, especially considering that Alexia seems to be in a completely rotten mood, but you can’t find it in yourself to care, because this is all she does and your becoming sick of it.

“Oh my god, I don’t come home every night just for you to make it seem like I’m a shitty girlfriend.”

It’s so Alexia, so Alexia to always somehow make herself the victim, somehow make it you who is the one in the wrong.

“Are you joking? You didn’t agree to come home to our house?”

Alexia moves herself further away from the bed, to the very edge, her eyes and jaw just as stubborn as each other.

“What do you want me to say? I’m tired, I want to sleep, not listen to you whine about whatever your fucking whining about, I’ve been in interviews all day and all I wanted to do was come home and sleep.”

Alexia was always in interviews, always doing something that was your fault, it wasn’t your responsibility to sort out her calendar, or to make her less of a good football player, it just happened to be the way the cookie crumbled.

“Okay, I’m sorry, I just had a really fucking bad qweek and I wanted to talk to you about it, because your supposed to be the fucking person I can talk to, but it’s fine, we can talk tomorrow, or next week, or next year, whenever your not tired.”

Alexia exhales, Mapi’s voice plays through her head, this is her in, this is her opportunity to not be such a fucking jackass.

“No, tell me about it.”

Anything you wanted to say, you swallow, it’s a hard job, but your suddenly so scared of Alexia, so scared that she’ll see you the same way you do, she’s never around to reassure you that you’re enough for her, and you honestly don’t feel like you are anymore.

“It’s fine, honestly sleep.”

You peel back the covers beside you, but Alexia stays still on the other end of the bed, just looking at you.

“You obviously want me to ask about it or you never would have brought it up.”

Alexia knows that it’s a dickhead move, but she’s at her wits end, she’s tired and your beginning to piss her off.

“Why do you make it seem like talking to me is a chore?”

Alexia has a schedule, and she figures sometimes talking with you is a chore, because Alexia doesn’t have time, some days talking to you is just another box for her to tick.

“How many times do I have to say that I’m fucking tired before you udnerstand?”

Alexia’s tone is so harsh, so angry, a tone she long ago promised herself she’d never use with you, ever. But right now every single rule she has for herself is being broken and when tears spring to the corners of your eyes she can’t help but feel guilty.

“If you’re so tired, go to sleep, I’ve told you that already, you’re starting an argument for no reason.”

Alexia cocks her head, trying to absorb what you’ve just said to her.

“Yeah, okay, whatever, I don’t want you fucking talking to me for the rest of the night though.”

Alexia never used to swear around you, or at you, but the part of her that was once so sweet and gentle with you is now gone, long forgotten under the facade that has become La Reina.

“Okay, I love you.”

It’s Alexia’s last chance, her last opportunity for redemption. You give her a few seconds, and when you get nothing in return your heart shatters.

“Please say it back Ale.”

Alexia’s face is emotionless, absolutely devoid of anything that made Alexia, Alexia. It reminds you as to why you are so scared to let people in, because of the damage they can do and the damage they can find. Alexia no longer seems concerned about any of those things, only concerned about herself.

“Alexia.”

She slips under the covers beside you, but her body and face is stock still, so stubborn, so hurt, so fucked up. It’s the final straw for you.

You pull the sheets away from your body, wrenching yourself up and out of the covers, tears streaming down your face as you rush into your wardrobe, pulling out whatever clothes are within arms reach and stuffing them into a bag.

When you emerge Alexia is looking equal parts concerned and shocked.

“Where the fuck are you going?”

In the moment, all you want is to be loved, feel loved, and it’s clear Alexia isn’t prepared to do any of those things.

“You need rest, I don't think either of us are going to get it whilst the other is in the house, I’m going to stay with Mapi for a few nights. When your ready to love me I’ll be there.”

With that you leave the bedroom, pick up your keys and drive into the darkness of the middle of the night, tears flowing freely down your face as the bleary night lights of Barcelona pass by.

It took every single bit of energy left in you to make it up the stairs of Mapi and Ingrid’s house, your knuckles pounding against their door until it swung open, to reveal Mapi and Ingrid, both looking like they’d just crawled out of bed and equally as shocked as each other.

It was then that you broke down, fat, big tears streaming down your face and sobs falling easily from your lips.

“I love her.”

There’s a silence so loud between the three of us as Mapi pulls you into a hug, Ingrid closing the door behind you and the two of them helping you into their house, pulling you into their bed and bringing you into a big hug. All you can do is focus on your breathing, in out, in out. Your hands tears at the broken skin and nails, you can’t manage to meet either of the womens eyes as you cry in their arms, they don’t seem to mind, they only tighten their grip on you.

“It’s okay hermosa, we’ve got you, we won't let go.”

You can’t do much more than cry, you're grieving your life, grieving your lover, grieving everything that you’d just lost in a matter of minutes. Your hearts torn to shreds, undecided about whether or not to let Alexia hold onto a breaking thread and risk the plummet. She’s given you absolutely nothing, no hope, no faith, no love and yet there she goes. She’s let you go. You're only feeling some of it, you know that there is going to be a day, not far away, where you're going to have to see her at training, laughing and smiling with your teammates, people who she’s loving through everything. You're losing her. You lost a version of her that was once so caring, who gave the warmest hugs. You’ve lost your 2 am conversations and your forever and always. You lost the person you’d promised you’d stay around till the very end with, if she hadn’t pushed you away, if she hadn't just loved you none of it would have happened. Alexia Putellas Segura was never yours to have though it seemed, she was for everyone else, the fans, the club, the country. Alexia Putellas was a thought, not a person.

There was a reason why you didn’t eat anymore, you’d become obsessed with trying to be perfect for Alexia, she hung out with models and super stars on the weekends, and yet you were just you. You were so unworthy of her love and attention that you couldn’t really blame her for falling out of love with you.

“She doesn’t love me, she never has.”

Maria hates it when those words leave your mouth, because it couldn’t be further from the truth, Alexia is just shit at showing you it. She knows that her bestfriend loves you more than anybody else in the world, that she would give up everything to be there for you, she just hasn’t noticed that you’ve needed that.

You sniffle into Ingrid’s chest, your fingers tapping against her thigh and your legs shaking from underneath you. You’ve never felt heartbroken before, Alexia has been your day one, and now it feels like you're just done, like everything the two of you have ever worked for together is just completely done.

“She loves you more than you know hermana, but she doesn’t deserve you if she’s going to continue to hurt you.”

Now that Mapi has you in her arms, she can feel just how much smaller you are, how much you’ve shrunken and how emaciated you are. She internally curses Alexia and her stubbornness, the world is so loud that Alexia Putellas has become deaf to your needs, to your happiness. Sometimes her best friend is one of the most impressive people she’s ever met and sometimes she’s just stupid, stupid for letting the love of her life feel so worthless and stupid for letting you walk out the door, something that could be the stupidest decision of her life.

You're positively exhausted, and it doesn’t take much of Ingrid’s back rubs and comforting Norwegian words that you don’t understand for you to be lulled into a painful sleep.

As soon as the two are certain your asleep the move you into the middle of the bed, Mapi looking over the top of you concernedly at Ingrid.

“She needs helps.”

Ingrid can’t find any part of her brain that disagrees with her other half.

“She needs Alexia to take her foot out of her ass and be present.”

Mapi nods her head, her eyes falling to your own face, even in your sleep you lok disturbed, your eyebrows knitted across your skin and a deep frown on your lips.

“Si, well if Alexia won’t then we have to, she needs to know she’s loved. She’s lost so much weight elksling, she hasn’t been eating or looking after herself.”

Ingrid nods, equally worried as her girlfriend about the health of their bestfriend.

“Get some sleep, we’ll figure it out in the morning.

When the two women wake to find you missing from their bed, it takes a search of their apartment to find you deep asleep in their spare room, neither of them question it. They make you breakfast, you don’t eat it, insisting that you're feeling nauseous. When they try to talk about Alexia you shut them down, you’ve created a mental fortress, one that Alexia and your health and emotions aren’t apart of. They invite you to stay with them for the foreseeable future, and you can’t find any reason to say no.

The following days leading up to the first pre-season training are all the same, you hardly sleep every night, sitting up late out on their porch and waking up at the crack of dawn. Mapi knows that your health is teetering dangerously, you hardly eat, you only leave the house to workout, you are a skeleton of a human being. Mapi doesn’t know what to do, you don’t care about anything anymore, or maybe you care so much that it’s all being numbed out.

It’s the first training session when everything turns to shit. She’d found you balling your eyes out in a change room cubicle beforehand, as soon as you’d spotted Mapi you’d pulled yourself together, terrified of being vulnerable in front of her. It only got worse though when you stepped out of the tunnel and onto the field, to be faced with Alexia, standing casually on the field, chatting with a few of your teammates. Your heart plummeted at the sight of her, the woman that you’d made so tired, so unhappy, laughing and messing about with your teammates. You pushed Mapi away when she tried to comfort you, walking straight to the sideline of the pitch to start your warm up. You made it through half of it, your body hurt though, in a way that it never had before. You only made it through one of your sprints before you were face planting into the turf, your whole body completely done. Your bones sunk into the grass, your body just giving up.

It was Mapi who made it to you first, flipping you over, her eyes searching your unconscious face. She knew this was going to happen, knew it was only so long before your body stopped letting you overwork it.

“Alexia.”

Mapi screamed at the top of her lungs, desperate to draw anyone's attention, specifically your fiance, or ex fiance. Everyone turned to face the two of you, Mapi knelt down on the turf, rocking your body back and forth as she tried her very hardest to awaken you, a task that was proving to be unsuccessful. The whole team rushed forward, Alexia at the front of the pack, collapsing beside Mapi on the ruf, taking your head in her hands and shaking it furiously.

“Someone get a medic, y/n, come on, wake up for me, get up.”

There was more emotion in Alexia’s voice than Mapi had heard in months. Mapi hated that it took you passing out for Alexia to care, and suddenly her protective older sister instinct kicked in, pushing Alexia away from you, taking her hands and distaching them from your unconscious body.

“Get the fuck away from her? She has to be unconscious for you to give a fuck? This is your fault, you let it get this bad, if you actually loved her you would have realised ages ago, but you don’t do you? You don’t love her like she deserves, you only love her when it’s convenient for you?”

The words bring tears to Alexia’s eyes, Mapi’s words awaken something in her, a realisation that she’s right, Alexia has given a blind eye to you and now you were seriously hurt because of it. She scrambled away from your body, suddenly overly aware of just how much she’d hurt you. She pushed herself out from the group, running away from all of them, running away from you, running away from her problems, running away from her life that she’d fucked up so badly.

One of the girls had called 112, clawing Mapi away from your unresponsive body as the medics tended to you, plastering a oxygen mask on your face that was far too big, sitting wrongly on your bony face. They loaded you up onto a stretcher, your cold body attached to more cords than you had extremities.

Mapi managed to fit herself into the ambulance with you, clutching your hand the whole drive to the hospital, praying to herself to let you be okay, to let everything work itself out.

When you woke up it was painful. Your eyes blinked furiously as they tried to focus on anything besides the infuriating white light that was clouding your vision. It took a few seconds for your senses to kick in, but once they did it only hurt more. The sound of constant beeping, movement and noise pollution crowding you ears. It was then that you spotted Mapi and Ingrid at your bedside, your eyes darting furiously between the two as the blood rushed to your ears to protect you from the overstimulating noise that was crowding your brain.

Mapi stood up, her hand intertwining with yours. She was trying to speak to you, but you couldn’t hear anything, your ears making you practically deaf. Mapi held your hand and it seemed to be enough, enough to tell you that everything was okay, or as okay as it could be. Slowly your anxiety slipped out from under you, and your hearing came back, allowing you to focus on what Mapi was saying to you.

“Hey sweetheart, it’s all okay, your okay, take some deep breaths for me.”

Your eyes darted to the IV’s and cords that were connected to you, the feeding tube that went through your nose and down your throat, the oxygen cannula that also rested on your nose, the countless IV’s that were connected to your arm, making it far harder to move your arm at all.

“What happened?”

Your words were choken, your throat dry from lack of liquids. Mapi solved this problem, reaching to your bedside and lifting a glass of water to your lips, you took tentative sips, the water soothing your dry throat.

“You passed at training, malnutrition and dehydration. The doctors think that you’ve been struggling with anorexia for a little while, that you haven’t been eating properly.”

Suddenly everything stopped for you, the words leaving Maria’s mouth making you gulp on nothingness. It felt like you were being choked, big imaginary hands wrapping around your throat, preventing you from saying anything in your defence. It felt like your organs were all eating each other up in your stomach, a uneven discomfort spreading across your torso.

“Nobody is judging you, you’ve been through a really tough time, what matters most now is getting you back to being healthy and happy. Barca is in full support of what you want to do, you have lots of options, inpatient, out patient, moving in with Ingrid and I fully.”

You didn’t want any of those things, you wanted Alexia and it hurt for you to admit that.

“I want Ale.”

Maria frowned at your words, she was still furious with Alexia.

“I don’t think that's a good idea, you deserve better then her hermosa.”

It hurt you to hear Mapi regard Alexia so lowly, when a few weeks ago Alexia had been her best friend in the entire world.

“I want to see Alexia, I know she’s here, let me see her.”

Ingrid stood up, walking out the door of your room and out into the waiting room, retrieving a particularly heart broken blonde from the room and dragging her into your room.

The way your face lit up when you saw Alexia made Mapi feel sick, she wasn’t going to let Alexia hurt you again like she had.

Alexia’s cheeks were tearstained, her eyes distant as they met yours. It hurt her in ways she could never explain, seeing you looking so lifeless in a hospital bed, you were conscious, but all life had been drained from your body, you truly looked like a skeleton.

“Mapi, give me and Alexia a minute will you?”

Mapi looked like she was about to argue, but Ingrid’s hand on her wrist, tugging her out of the room was enough of a distraction, the Norwegian woman closing the door behind the two of them.

“I’m so sorry, I was such a bad girlfriend-.”

You stopped Alexia grovelling by lifting your hand.

“You fucked up, you hurt me more than I’ve ever been hurt before. It fucking sucked Alexia, never seeing you and when I did see you, you were always on the phone or tired or not in the mood. I understand that you are very busy, and that you can’t control your schedule, I’m not having a go at you for that, you are allowed to be tired. I’m pissed off because I was struggling, really fucking struggling and all you gave a shit about was yourself, you don’t understand how stressful it is to explain what’s going on in your head when you don’t even understand it yourself. You are supposed to be my person, the person I can ask and tell anything and you didn’t want to be that and I detested you for that. I can’t do it anymore, I can’t spend everyday hating you, because this is what it does to me. I can’t live without you, but I also can’t live beside a version of you that doesn’t love me like I deserve. I want to try us, I want to try again, because if I stand even a chance at keeping myself alive and being happy whilst doing it, it’s going to be in your arms, but I need you to understand that, I need you to understand that you need to be here for me, regardless of what’s going on in your life. You know I’m proud of you, I’m your biggest supporter, so right now I need you to be that for me.”

Alexia nodded like a goldfish at you, more tears flowing freely down her face.

“How bad is it?”

You bit down on your lip, everything that made Alexia, La Reina was gone, all of her barrier broken down, so that the only person standing in front of you was your Ale, the Ale you loved so very much.

“It’s not good, I haven’t been looking after myself in a long while, Anorexia they say. They want me to go into outpatient or inpatient, or move in with Mapi. I don’t want to do any of those things, I just want to be with you, happy with you, with you there to look out for me, I just need you to commit to that for me.”

Alexia nodded quickly, her head shaking furiously as her blonde hair swished back and forth beside her head.

“Please, if you’ll have me. I’ll take time off, whatever you need, I’m here for it all, I’ll spend everyday for the rest of our lives making it up to you, I promise, please just let me love you.”

You patted down on the space beside you on the bed and Alexia hesitantly sat down on the space, hovering on the bed, making sure she wasn’t touching you, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable. You were starved though, starved of everything that you’d been missing the last few weeks, you reached out for her, pulling her to sit beside you on the bed, your head coming to rest against her stiff form. It took a few seconds to get her to relax, but when she did she lifted her hands up to your thin hair, carding her fingers gentle through it, trying her hardest not to notice the amount of hair that was falling out as a result of your health problems.

“I love you Ale.”

Alexia was so focused on you, that she didn’t even really hear the words.

“Ale, say it back.”

Your stern tone seemed to awaken her, she pointed her head down to yours, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead and murmuring,

“I love you mi amor, more than you will ever know,”

It calmed your soul, a part of your heart that you didn’t know existed finally resting, enough to let you slowly drift off on Alexia’s chest, allowing you to sleep better than you had in months. Alexia found herself following you, the sight of you finally relaxed making her so much more content.

That was how Mapi and Ingrid found the two of you, sound asleep on your hospital bed. Mapi was a little bit annoyed at how easily you’d forgiven Alexia, but she couldn’t find it to be mad at the Catalan for very long, approving of how happy you looked at rest in her arms.

#woso #woso community #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas #barca femeni x reader #wfc barcelona #barcelona women #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #liga f #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon #mapi león #older sister mapi leon #made me cry #love angst

[luckykiwiii101]

Doubting The Law?

Hey doubtful Upper East Siders!

You’ve read many MANY success stories I assume. You’ve analysed them top to bottom to find inconsistencies or anything to pick out to claim as false.

Well, have you ever asked yourself, why?

Not why as in “Why do I not believe them?”

But “Why do their struggles sound exactly like mine?”

“Why have they gone everything i’m going through right now, if not worse?”

“Why is it all so specific?”

“Why’s it all so relatable?”

Well the logical way to answer that is, they’ve been in your shoes before. They’ve gone through what you’re going through. But they realised that they were just scared of success. They weren’t used to success.

The illogical way to answer that is “they’re all lying. Those thousands, millions of people are all lying! they’ve photoshopped all their proof! for fun!”

look on @loasuccessarchive

Now what do you think?

We all have something called emotions.

Ask yourself, “How would I react if i truly believed that the law wasn’t real?”

Would you post a fake success story, attempting to live in the end, when you don’t even believe in it?!?!

Or would you post a rant calling it delusional BS.

I think MOST of us, if not all of us would choose the second option.

So why haven’t we seen much of that here? Why are there more success stories than rants imaginable?

So why do you doubt what’s right in-front of you?

Why do you disbelieve in the illogical. When you ARE the illogical one. Trying convince yourself that something isn’t real when the facts are right in-front if you.

It’s ILLOGICAL for 10000+ people on this app to make up fake stories about the law.

Stop choosing selective irrationality. In other words, stop choosing to be “illogical” when it fits you the most. Just because you were raised to not believe in yourself by society. The average person does not know about the law of assumption. Why would you listen to what they say?

If it was mainstream, you would believe in it wouldn’t you? Because everyone else does.

Still don’t believe me?

Remember all those bloggers that have been offline for months or years after manifesting their dream lives? Why? Oh, maybe because they’ve got their dream lives. They don’t need to roam tumblr anymore.

And i promise you, nobody’s out here concocting silly little plans to crush your dreams and make you believe in something that is fake.

The law was not discovered by little teenage girls pulling a sick joke on you to write in their burn books. It goes WAYYY back. Before you, your mother, your father, your grandmother, your grandfather was born. It’s not something new.

Would this community exist around a fake story?

No, we all know that’s not how the world works.

There is SO much proof all over the internet of people’s results. It’s insane how easy success is. Just let yourself.

You’ve manifested ALL your life.

Now you can do it in your favour.

The law is real, whether you believe in it or not.

And you will use it again, and again, you will use it tomorrow, you’ve used it yesterday, you’re using it today.

#void state #void #law of assumption #loa tumblr #loa blog #loassumption #loablr #manifestation #loa #the void state #neville goddard #edward art #manifesting methods #law of manifestation

[lunarw0rks]

can you make a part 3 of first time with simon?

I feel like this has a potential for do many sweet but sexy moments with him

I love reading the way you write him, exactly how I imagine him to be with his partner

a/n: this made my brain go brrr... sure the merciless, dirty smut can be fun sometimes. but i struggle to picture that being a constant with simon<;3 here's some more "first-time" content to bounce off that.

˖⁺‧₊˚ first-time pt.3 // drabble ˚₊‧⁺˖

♡ PART ONE ♡ PART TWO ♡ warning(s): nsfw, established relationship, fluff/smut, soft!dom simon is trying his best, overstimulation, reader anatomy not described, gn!reader ────have a request? ˗ˏˋ ASK BOX ˎˊ˗

☆ Simon's consideration towards your needs, and only your needs, was something you both relished and despised. It didn't matter how uncomfortable he was, as long as you weren't. After assurances, after all the permission — he was still so damn tender. ☆ He had his distasteful moments, of course. But never once in the bedroom. After your first night together, of gentle and tender likeness, a sensual image burned into your mind. And then the first evening you went down on him — you wanted more. To try your hand at his fantasies, the urges you knew he buried so deep in fear of scaring you off.

Right now, all you could picture was letting him indulge. For once, you couldn't focus on the pleasure whilst he was trailing his tongue along your neck, grinding his hips against yours subtly. Your mind was packed to the brim with new desires — with no room for much else.

"Simon." You spoke up, halting his gentle foreplay entirely. He muttered a hm, peering his head up to ensure you weren't vetoing his intimacy.

Tonight was the night those waters needed to be tested. You could feel it in your bones and with every chill of arousal that coursed through you. Your proposition remained gentle, though neediness seeped through the cracks of them, in a manner only he be able to notice.

──── "We should try something new, something you've wanted to do."

☆ Now you were getting frustrated, but not in the way you were before. Pleasured, but damn flustered at the sight of him in this new 'persona'. Though, you weren't sure it could be called one yet because he had barely done a thing except the routine. Make you see stars and then do it all over again. Where's the fun in that? ☆ Not only had he used his hands into oblivion, but he was already eager to be inside you, to fuck you into that same oblivion. Like he had done several times now in your relationship. You had no doubts about how lovely that sounded, nor would you complain if that's all that you wanted. However, tonight was about experimentation, there was no sense in him holding back. Even if it was in his nature.

"You're allowed to be mean, Simon." you muttered against the pillow, squirming under the tickle of his breath on your ear. Your backside pressed against his hips, though you made no effort to wiggle them like usual.

A gentle scoff sounded behind you, playful but hesitant, "don't think mean is the word, love. Just don't want to hurt you, is all." He muttered, planting a kiss on your earlobe. Sure, he could be cruel, he could be authoritative. Sometimes his intimacy had undertones of his urges, but never so evident. It would be a slow ease, not an abrupt careless one. Something that would take months. If anything, tonight would be the tip of the iceberg, no matter how much you reassured him.

Your eyes rolled, this time not in ecstasy like the times before, "I don't seem hurt, do I?" The words struck a chord, sending a surge of certainty toward his next move.

Within seconds, you found yourself on top of him, commanding hands on your hips to hold you in place. You couldn't conceal a smile, despite his attempts at remaining serious. His brows were furrowed, but his gaze remained gentle, leaving behind any semblance of aggressive dominance. Your humorous reaction would've been coddled any other time. But tonight wasn't the night for that, was it?

──── Instead, he cupped your jaw enough to keep your eyes on him, calloused fingertips buried into the flesh ever-so-slightly. "Hurt isn't a word I want coming out of your mouth. How about that?"

☆ Finally, a taste of what you've been craving. The gentle dominance you always pictured on Simon, and by God did he wear it well. The harmless anticipation of what he'd do next was always on the tip of your tongue, similar to every climax that snuck up on you. A mere taste of euphoria — before you were plunged headfirst. ☆ It was moments like this where you truly felt the consequences of your request, yet in the best way. Not once had he given you a solid moment to catch up, unless it was to ask for reassurance. Typically, similar to; 'Is that alright, love?' or 'You like it when I touch you there?' The perfect mix of tease and his gentle nature, wrapped around the dirty phrases like an embellished bow.

When you couldn't keep up the strength to keep rhythm, Simon took it upon himself to aid you. He thrusted upwards to meet your entrance, abusing the spots within you over and over again. The muscles of your walls pulsed and remained constricted, permanently exhausted from the blissful misuse.

Every trembling limb was fighting the arch of your back, the cramp of your fingers as they pressed against his pecs. "Too much for you, hm?" Simon asked, half-way serious, whilst the other half was heard as a mock to your overwhelmed state.

"You'll take it though, won't you, baby? Been so damn good all night. Why stop now?" His words have turned to slurs, though his consideration for your comfort hasn't dwindled a hair. Simon flipped the position, lifting one of your legs onto his shoulder to hit places even deeper within you. Wherever this persona of his had been hiding so long, you're glad you convinced a bit of it revealing itself.

Whatever climax you were enduring right now, you had lost count. All you knew was how violently the pleasure was pumping through you, and how his continued thrusts were heightening the experience. Not only that but his teases, the rumble of his deep voice in close proximity to your ear. By no means was it a seamless affair; it had taken several minutes of trial and error until he learned all the right ways to make you lose your composure.

With warm breaths escaping both of you, he sealed your lips with his own, allowing you to writhe in a more controlled manner. Simon had no clue whether he was nailing this, or if you'd ever want him to take charge again. By no means was he being aggressive, but to him, it was a significant step. Your reactions said enough, given the fact that he had rendered you speechless.

Sweat pooled on the glands of your forehead, dooming you to a disheveled appearance. After this long, after countless orgasms, your appearance held little weight in the equation. The phrase 'fucked-out' couldn't have rung more truthfully. Your back relaxed, finally un-arching as his thrusts calmed — the moment he decided to ease up.

"Was that okay?" He spoke when he pulled away from the kiss, letting your fatigued leg slide down until you were lying flat below him again, legs still parted. His plunges were still deep, but now more lenient.

Even on the brink of his release, his cares fell on you, not the selfish greed of ravishing you. You nodded your head, letting a reassuring smile spread across your face.

"Perfect, Simon," you breathed heavily, holding his waist as the bed creaked beneath his pressing weight. "I'm alright." He returned the slightest hint of an amused beam, using your assurance to fuel his own release.

One palm roamed the side and back of your thigh, the other roamed along your waist, as if his fingertips needed to memorize every patch of flesh to ensure you weren't going to recant your original proposition. "Fuck, 'm close, love. Christ, you're perfect wrapped around me." Despite how desperately his toned body yearned for release, his thrusts didn't once get rougher again. He was savoring this, like taking it slow was a sweet reward for the both of you. It was, even just laying back and observing the intoxication he had for your body.

Seconds later, he lost his control. His hips halted, fists balling against the sheets instead of your flesh as he clamped around the fabric with all his might, letting out a guttural groan as he spilled within you once again. The other hand soon reached out for the nightstand, holding the edge as he endured the brunt of his climax. In the process, he sent your stack of books tumbling to the hard floor.

The noisy thumps startled you, eyes peering over the edge of the bed as they stumbled from the force of his hand shooting out. His eyes snapped open as well, shaking his head when he saw the hitch in a night nearing perfection.

Simon shook his head, gaze switching from the disordered scene beside the bed back to your look of shock. "My bad, sweetheart. You bring out the worst in me, don't you?" He spoke frivolously, running his thumb along the flushed, damp flesh of your cheek.

A chuckle erupted from you as the clumsy happening soured any sensual mood in the room. "Think that's your sign to settle down, big boy." You hooked your arms around his shoulders, forcing his weight to collapse on your chest — or he made you think you did. Either way, the pressing weight of him atop you was soothing and secure, the same as any time you cuddled.

The snuggle didn't last long, not after you dropped such a bomb. His head perked up from the crock of your neck, now with a scowl painted on his face. "Did I hear that right?"

Warmth consumed your cheeks, a noticeable discomfiture to him when you broke into another fit of snickering. His faux-anger was a hilarious sight of his own but paired with the book mishap — it was ridiculous. "Alright, grumpy, I won't call you it again." You retorted sarcastically, using dramatics when you attempted to roll over. There was nothing he hated more than a bratty cold shoulder, even in pure contexts.

Simon subdued you with ease, forcing you to straddle him all over again. Only this time, it wasn't in a sexual sense — it was petty vengeance for the name-calling. "Grumpy, hm?" He teased, forcing you to sink all your weight onto his lap, not allowing any resistance.

"Bloody smartmouth, you are. I think I'll keep you here, like this, until you can't take it." Your squirms were entertainment at best, doing little to wrangle yourself out of the confines of his hands. Instead, you just exhausted yourself even further.

Despite what he'd said, he stopped when you admitted defeat. The sigh escaped your lips, prompting you to slump your posture as you perched on his lap. You eagerly reached out your hands, intertwining and playing with his as they did the same.

You were a prisoner on this lap — yet you had no desire to flee.

#mw2 #call of duty #task force 141 #mw2 fanfic #task force 141 x reader #simon riley #ghost mw2 #141 headcanons #simon ghost riley #ghost headcanons #ghost x you #ghost x gender neutral reader #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #simon riley headcanons #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #ghost mw2 x reader #tf 141 x reader #141 x reader #cod headcanons #mw2 hcs #mw2 x reader

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae! I absolutely adore you and your writing, you truly have a gift!

Can I please request something with James Potter where readers anxiety is really bad and is super emotional cause pms and is just kinda struggling and needs to be dealt with the most gently? Totally not projecting much at all lol 😬😫🤣

Totally no pressure if you don’t feel up to it! I love reading anything you write ❤️❤️

Hi lovely, thanks so much!!

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 772 words

“Here y’go, love.” James presses a mug’s handle into your hands, and you take it quickly once you realize he’s holding the hot sides. 

“James!” you hiss, chiding. “You’re going to burn yourself.”

Only James Potter could make a shrug seem fond. He sits down beside you on the couch, hand resting on your thigh, and the knee you hadn’t realized you’d been jiggling slows to a stop. 

“What’s eating you?” he asks mildly, rubbing you from knee to hip as he sips his tea, quietly hinting for you to do so as well. 

You sigh, blowing on your tea before raising it to your lips. “Nothing so important I should be this stressed about it,” you say bitterly. “It’s just PMS.” 

You hate how your hormones mess with you around this time of the month. It makes it feel like you can’t trust yourself, because you’re never sure if the emotions you’re experiencing are valid or amplified by your body’s punishing cycle. Your already oversensitive nerves go into overdrive, and you feel three times as susceptible to bouts of rage or crying, though which one it’ll be is as good as a coin toss. Everything is just more, and all the time, and it sucks. 

James makes a sad puppy sound. “Yeah? Are you hurting, honey?” 

“Not really.” You have a headache, but that’s probably more due to your anxiety than anything else. 

“Well, why don’t you try telling me what’s bothering you,” James suggests. “Even if you think it’s not a big deal, maybe I can help.” 

You sigh again, a heaving, dramatic exhale. “Macy’s having a birthday party this weekend.” 

That surprises a smile out of James, and he tilts his head to look at you bemusedly. “Oh, how nefarious! Shall we curse her?” 

You give him a look that says not funny, even as your own lips curl up slightly. James smothers his grin as best he can (which is to say, not very well), nodding at you seriously to continue. 

“I just—” you heave another sigh, and James’ hand redoubles its efforts on your leg, squeezing the fatty inner part encouragingly. “I’m not going to know anyone there, and I’m going to have to go straight after work on Friday, and she and her friends always stay out so much later than I want to. I just know I’m going to be exhausted.” 

“Okay.” James is nodding, still looking slightly confused. “So don’t go.” 

“But it’s her birthday,” you say, the last syllable taking an unexpected turn into whiny territory as your eyes grow wet. “I don’t have an excuse to miss it and I’ll be the worst friend in the world if I do.” 

“Sweetheart, hey.” James’ voice takes on a slight panicked edge due to the appearance of tears, though you can tell he’s trying to be soothing. His hand abandons your leg to snake around your waist, scrubbing up and down your side. “Honey, you’re a great friend. You’re just looking out for yourself a little bit,” he promises, kissing the top of your head. “Let’s think about who’s going to be more upset, alright? If you miss it, Macy might be a bit sad you didn’t come, but she’s still got all of her other friends who don’t know you anyway, and the party will probably go on as it would have. But if you go, you’ll have to hurry there straight after work, you might be too tired to be much fun, and you could end up miserable the whole night. Sound right?” You nod wretchedly, and he hums into your hair. “So just miss this one, and make it up to her with lunch or something another time, yeah?” At your hesitation, he adds, “You have plans Friday night, you can’t make it.” 

You look up at James. “I don’t have plans, though. I don’t want to lie to her.” 

“Sure you do, sweetheart,” he contradicts you, grinning. “You have plans with me, duh. You’ve only been friends with Macy for a couple months, right?” You nod. “Well then sorry, Macy, but I’m pulling rank.” You laugh, and James swoops down to kiss at your dimple when it appears. “I need my girl for Friday night. She’s pre-engaged.” 

James can never stop kissing once he’s gotten started, and you hide your cheek from him in his own chest, wrapping your arms around his waist in an awkward sort of hug. “Thanks, Jamie.” 

You can still hear the smile in his voice. “Anytime, my love. Now, since that’s been resolved, do you think you can drink your tea? It’s gonna get cold.”

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter x self insert #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter imagine #james potter oneshot #james potter drabble #james potter one shot #james potter scenario #marauders #marauders era #the marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fanfic #marauders fic #the marauders era #marauders fandom #hp marauders

[whitehotforeva]

thinking of peacekeeper coriolanus gently fondling your body whilst you nap against him in the meadow. watching you slowly get needy for him as you eventually wake up, undone at his fingertips. 𓆩♡𓆪

word count : 2,045

warnings : 18 + !!!! somnophilia, non con? fingering (fem receiving), little degradation but also praise <3 and some victim blaming.

a/n : hiii angels, it’s been a while. uni is absolutely killing me and i hate exam season!! it’s so easy for me to write smut yet i cannot do an assignment. anyways, enjoy the filth and i’m sorry if there’s any mistakes. also this is my third fic so it may be blehh and i’m still trying to learn how to work tumblr jsjsjs. anyways hope u all are well, gonna be more active after exam season, my bday is coming up too <3

your boyfriend, the blonde peacekeeper, had the day off so you both had decided to venture through the woods and to the lake, spending the long summers day splashing together in the water as the sun shined down on you both, kissing your skin.

the weather had been getting warmer, the season had changed so you knew before heading out to wear a pretty white sundress so that your skin could breathe for once. district 12 was always so glum, but now that summer was here, it brightened up the place a little.

so after the long day you had with coriolanus, you found yourself resting against his body as you both sat under a tall tree, bathing in the relief of the shade given. it was becoming evening now anyways, the air slightly cooler as a gentle breeze blew through the wind.

his hand rested in your soft hair, gently playing with it as your eyes fluttered. you both breathed calmly in the comfortable silence.

that was one thing you loved about being with him. sometimes all you guys needed was silence. a hundred words could’ve been said from a simple look into his stormy eyes and he would’ve understand fully, silently communicating back. he understood you better than anyone. you had hoped that he felt the same. that he could say that you understood him better than anyone too. you had been dating the peacekeeper for a month now yet a part of you felt like you were missing something. not from him, but in him.

your worries diminished a little each time you saw him. ever since he entered your life, he had taken charge, looking after you so graciously when you needed it. he deciding everything for you. for once in your life, you enjoyed having someone else make the decisions for you. growing up in 12 was always a horrible struggle, and with your mother dying a few years before, everything was even more harder. so despite the little guilt you felt each time coriolanus would buy you your groceries and drop them off at your small home, your heart would warm at the acts of service he committed for you. with him you were looked after. with him, you were safe.

so your eyes fluttered softly as you felt sleep call you. you didn’t want to fight it, so you didn’t let it. you were safer than you had ever been in coriolanus’s arms.

you drifted pretty quickly and soon enough, soft snores left your lips as an amused chuckle left coriolanus’s. he let you rest there for a little while, gently running his hand over your soft shoulder and down your arm whilst you slept.

you were so delicate in this moment. he looked down at your sleeping face, his eyes slightly darkening at the sight of your sunkissed nose and pink cheeks. he let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding in. you looked so easy to ruin..

he had taken you before, only a week after you guys had started dating despite your refusals and worries, he managed to coax you into more relaxed state, whispering sweet reassurances as he took what you could never could get back.

and after it happened, you realised you never wanted it back. you would give it to him over and over if you could. so despite your innocent nature and shyness around him, he brought out something needy in you from the depths of your stomach that you never even knew existed.

his arm wrapped across your waist as his fingertips began to dance along your thigh, moving higher and higher as he gently pulled your sundress up. he felt his pants tighten behind you at the sight of your white cotton panties. he decided to play with your body a little. he slowly pulled your dress up so it was bunched up against your hips as he ran his fingers across your stomach, smirking a little as he saw you squirm slightly. you were always so sensitive there.

“oh baby.”

he breathed out, his other hand tracing patterns on your thigh as he continued to drag his finger down your stomach, placing a soft kiss to the side of your head.

you were always so sweet to him. so sweet for him. so polite and obedient. he felt like you deserved a little reward for being such a good girl. for listening to all his orders. for clumsily reaching up to kiss his face each time there was a frown on it. he had all of his secrets of his past, but one thing he was sure of in his own twisted way, was that he had you.

he’d always have you. no matter what. even if that meant dragging you to the capitol in a cage with him.

he noticed the way your panties grew damp and couldn’t help but touch at the spot, his eyes flickering to your closed ones as you subconsciously squirmed.

“my sensitive little girl.” he murmured as he gently massaged his fingers into your damp panties. he continued this action for a few more minutes as he felt his fingers grow damp and used it as his sign to gently tug down your panties, revealing your bare glistening pussy.

he wanted to lower himself down and devour you. to have your hips buck against him as he would hold them tightly down whilst his tongue circles your clit, pulling out multiple orgasms from you as you’d shriek in pleasure.

he decided he’d do it later. he’d treat you again at home. he was certainly feeling generous today, but he wanted to gently touch you now. to watch the movements of your body change as you delicately laid against him, resting. vulnerable. there was something so intimate about touching your sleeping form. about copying the way you’d sneak your fingers into your panties to play with your most private parts whilst thinking of him. his throbbing bulge gently grinded against your ass.

he had pulled your panties down to your thighs now, just a little above your knees. his fingers resumed their touching as he slowly rubbed at you, letting your juices coat his finger as he watched your body rock slowly, responding to the pleasure that your brain couldn’t exactly comprehend right now. he kissed your shoulder, lowly speaking against it as his lips brushed the skin, “my good girl. my baby.”

as soon as the words were spoken, you whined gently and he chuckled. even in your sleep you subconsciously knew it. you knew your body belonged to him. you knew he owned your pleasure. that he owned you.

he began touching your bundle of nerves at a quicker pace as he placed a sloppy kiss on your shoulder. soft pants left your lips now as your brows scrunched up, your sleeping brain trying to make sense of the sensations shooting through your body. you couldn’t help but just squirm and as his plump lips latched down onto your neck to begin to suck at it, a broken whimper left your lips.

“such a pretty baby. so good for me, even when you sleep. my needy princess. my little slut.”

he drawled those words against your neck as the movements of his cock intensified, grinding into you more as each time you squirmed, you met his bulge. he groaned out softly and watched as your arm stretched out in an attempt to grip onto something. to try to understand the feeling that engulfed you. the hot pleasure that pulled you closer towards something and felt like too much so you needed to reach out for something to steady it. to steady you.

coriolanus held down your arm as he placed desperate kisses along it, his movements on your little clit going faster as higher pitched pants left your lips. that was always an indicator that you were about to cum. he had heard it many times before you’d explode all over his cock.

he breathed out heavily as he continued his sloppy kisses, doing it anywhere he could see.

“fuck. you’re gonna cum for me, huh? cum baby. cum angel.” he spoke into your ear, the deep timbre of his voice echoing faintly in your mind as your hips bucked and a loud moan left your lips, your eyes fluttering open as your high hit you. your soft orbs widened as your back arched against the firm body behind you and a whimper escaped your mouth as you felt a wave of pleasure shoot over your body, carrying the waves of his touch as you squirmed aggressively against the long fingers that were strumming your clit.

you gasped out his name. you gasped it out again. and again. like it was a prayer, like a mantra. your tired yet widened gaze shot to him as your eyes fluttered from the drowsiness and from the euphoria that shot through your veins.

“i-“ you gasped out. you didn’t even know what to say. or what to think. you didn’t understand the situation fully but as you glanced down to look at your boyfriends fingers resting against your bare soaked pussy, a dark blush painted your cheeks, a few shades deeper than your slight sunburn.

he adored the sight and as you looked back up to him, before you knew it, he crashed his lips into yours. broken breaths left your lips as you responded hungrily but needed to pull away sooner. you needed air. from the moment you had woken up, he had ripped it away from you as your orgasm hit.

you felt him grind into you feverishly and his hand roughly grabbed your face to guide you back to his lips, kissing you aggressively as he rut his hips against you, a loud groan leaving his lips as he exploded himself. the entire situation had him going crazy. the way your body was so vulnerable yet responded like a slut to him drove him wild. the way he controlled how you breathed. how he controlled the air for you. how he was the air for you. his own high hit as he sucked and bit on your already swollen lips. you had to forcefully pull away, gasping out loudly for air.

“c-coryo!” you exclaimed in shock of it all. his dark eyes gazed down at you, slightly hazy with pleasure and a hint of power that unnerved you.

“it’s okay baby. you wanted that. i was just giving you what you needed. making you feel good, okay?” his instant reassurance sunk into your skin yet you were still in your little state of shock, having woken up to such an unexpected thing. well, unexpected for you. the confusion on your face had him slowly stroking your cheek as he placed a soft kiss on your noise, parting his lips to explain to you again.

“you needed it, okay? and it felt good, didn’t it? you were so needy baby. so whiny. like a little slut.”

his words had your face warming up even more as you felt slightly embarrassed. you had never done this when you slept. god, what was coriolanus doing to you? he had that much power that he was invading her mind whilst she slept? even when she was unconscious she needed him?

pride swelled in his chest and something tugged at his heart when you shyly looked away, biting down on your lip as you apologised. he instantly shut it down.

“hey. none of that, okay? you needed it princess. and it was my job to give it to you.”

you breathed in shakily before glancing up to him, hesitantly nodding. he was right, right? i mean he didn’t do anything wrong? it felt good for her. good was the wrong word to describe it. it felt incredible as she came undone at his fingertips.

you couldn’t control how you acted whilst you slept right? but he could. he gave you the solution. he was always so sweet. always looking out for you. a shy smile grew on your lips.

“thank you, coryo.” you murmured softly as you watched him grin.

all that ran through his mind was that you needed to fall asleep around him more often.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #billy the kid #billy the kid smut #billy the kid x reader #coriolanus smut #tom blyth #tom blyth smut #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #tbosas #cw somnophilia #non con #smut #coriolanus fanfiction

[miveras]

Drabble: Silent Treatment | JJK

Pairing: jungkook x reader Genre: established relationship, angst, fluff Word count: 1.6k Warnings: none

masterlist

---

“You’re so fucking lazy,” you scream, “Do you ever just look around and think to clean up after yourself once in a while?”

You pick up his worn, mahogany sweater off the floor and into the bucket you struggle to carry with only one hand. You resist the urge to chuck it at him, ignoring you with a scoff. 

You weren’t this angry to begin with, but you couldn’t help it after seeing his reaction to you. This was the second fight you’d had, and this has been the worst so far. He wasn’t listening to you at all, and you didn’t know what would make him finally cooperate. 

Though you shouldn’t fuel the flame, you keep nagging at him to get up and pointing out every one of his wrongdoings in the past few weeks. 

“Just give me a few days. You know I always clean on weekends since I don’t have time on weekdays,” Jungkook replies with a serious tone. You can see it in his eyes, his anger building up by the second.

“Well if you don’t have time, then why are you on your phone? Why aren’t you doing anything then?” you rambled.

He groans in response, obviously annoyed that you keep going back and forth with harsh blows.

After you guys dated for a year, you thought it’d be a good idea to start discussing the living situations. When he told you that his landlord was raising their prices, it posed the perfect scenario for you to invite him in.

Jungkook moved in just past a month, and sure, he was fine the first two weeks. He cooked for you, cleaned after himself, and tried his best not to make a mess. But recently, you’ve caught him being such a horrible roommate that now, you couldn’t stop the hurtful words coming out of your mouth. 

“Shut up…” he mutters in a quiet voice, avoiding your confrontation. He wished you hadn’t heard it but when he hears your feet dragging against the floor, he knew you did. 

But you didn’t choose to answer him and instead, you gave him the silent treatment. 

He enjoyed the short while that you left and came back with a vacuum. For the rest of the week, you guys cut off contact with each other, living in the same house but not saying anything. You even went as far as to eat at a different time than usual, just to avoid him. You weren’t giving this up easily– you wanted him to care, needed him to. You wished he found this just as important as you did.

Over the past week, all you focused on was your job. At work, all you thought about was him– it got so bad to the point where your work friends started questioning you about your sanity. You were constantly zoning out and the lack of sleep didn’t help at all. 

You asked for help from one of your friends: Ara. While writing a paper about the company’s statistical reports, you had a welcome visitor come in– just who you were looking for.

“Y/N! I haven’t seen you in a bit,” she whines, “I literally missed you so much.” She almost leaps into your arms as soon as she sees you. At least someone was happy to see you. She hugs you so tight you had to push her away for a bit, trying not to pass out from the lack of air.

“Ara, I missed you…” you pout. She notices the sadness behind your eyes, knowing that you’re not usually this affectionate unless you need it. Ara immediately knew something was wrong from the way you were reacting to her presence– though she couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

You fess up to her about everything, including the words you and Jungkook exchanged. It was pretty harsh, to say the least. Ara understood you, more than anyone else could (except Jungkook of course). 

Her advice to you was to communicate, but it was way harder than it sounded. You couldn’t do it, not now at least.

You tried your best to avoid him by doing literally anything else: going out to work, cleaning, anything. It was pathetic to anyone who wasn't either of you– everyone knew how much both of you guys loved each other, and everyone knows you guys belong to each other. 

You were too stubborn to admit defeat so you waited for Jungkook– who was probably the only person just as stubborn as you, to apologize first. Predictably, it’s been an ongoing problem for more than just a few days.

Whenever it was time to sleep, your heart raced faster than normal beside him. You had already promised yourself not to lean over and kiss him, admire him, or do anything with him as a form of his punishment. But now, it started to feel like your’s. 

Did he even care about you? Did he even miss you?

You hated the way your body couldn’t relax, feeling every nerve pulse throughout your body. You swallow, wondering how long it’ll take you to fall asleep considering your inability to when you’re not embracing something. 

You shifted slightly, missing the way he looked over to you with a worried expression but not having enough courage to do something about it. 

He sighs, turning the other way as well. He decided not to do anything– he was way too exhausted and stubborn to even face you. He wouldn’t know what to say.

---

The next morning, you wake up with the house all tidy– clothes in their right place, no food in sight, all the dishes clean, but you can’t seem to find the one who did it. He must’ve gone to school already.

The following days were all the same. He goes to school, then you, then avoids each other all day, then comes home just to sleep facing opposite each other. I was tired, no doubt. 

He’s stubborn and you’re stubborn. You’d think you were a perfect match until something like this comes along. It’s funny, you think. 

At some point, all you wanted to do was be in his embrace. To feel his warmth all over you. Oh, how you wanted to just kiss him all over and play with his hair until he falls asleep.

As you think about how much you miss him, you wonder how much or if he even missed you at all. You look beside you– suddenly feeling an overwhelming amount of sadness. You almost forgot how much you missed him. 

Unintentionally, your shoulders shake as you try your best to keep in your weeps quiet and breaths steady. Streaks of tears drop to your cheeks, entangling with your hair. You struggle to stop your sobs from coming out, covering your mouth and wiping your eyes to make sure Jungkook doesn’t wake up because of you.

It was truly your last straw. You couldn’t handle being away from him anymore. 

“Y/N…” he whispers, concern written all over his face. You freeze, not being able to comprehend anything at that moment. 

Still feeling groggy and dazed from his sleep, he rubs his eyes to see you clearer. Once his eyes set on you, a small rush of panic goes through his veins, worriedness taking over his body. He parts his lips in shock and slowly wraps his arms around you– not quite sure what to do. 

You feel his arms snake to your waist, kissing your head and muttering soft phrases to calm you down. You wallow in his embrace, slightly embarrassed about your outburst that had him waking up late at night. In a way, you felt ashamed of yourself and your feelings, suddenly feeling more insecure about yourself as Jungkook continues to hold you in silence. 

He felt wrong reaching for you when it was obvious he was who you were upset about. He had a clue on what was happening to you– what you were worried about, but he decided to stay quiet and bring it up later when you don’t look as hurt. 

“Baby, I’m so sorry. I love you so much..,” his voice trails off as he starts peppering kisses all over your face. You can tell that he felt extremely guilty just by his voice, and his expression sends confirmation of that. 

At this point, you had already stopped crying out of embarrassment, shame, and even comfort from Jungkook.

“I-I’m sorry too,” you sniffle, “I’m sorry for yelling at you.” 

“I didn’t get the chance to apologize sooner. I..I was just scared that you’d stay mad at me– then I wouldn’t know what to do” he explains nervously. Rubbing your arm comfortingly, he asks you to stay with him. “I’ll listen to you from now on.”

“Jungkook, I love you too. I hate fighting with you,” you confess. He only smiles in response, though you can’t see his face when yours is buried in his chest. You hug him back in return– both of you exchanging loving glances at each other. 

Jungkook kisses you in the temple one last time before closing his eyes and relaxing his body.

In a few minutes, you both fall asleep in each other’s comfort. You missed him so much even though you’ve barely been apart and he feels the same exact way. That definitely wasn’t the last argument you’d have, but it’d be the last one where he’d make you cry. 

Ara was right– all it took was a bit of communication.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook ff #bts fanfic #bts x reader #jungkook angst #bts jungkook #bts jimin #jimin fluff #taehyung fluff #fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #kook.ver

[neopuppy]

the jisung fic/hard hours…idk about everyone else but if it’s jisung i eat it up! like im blushing and giggling…it’s almost embarrassing 😅 I AM 100% ENCOURAGING YOU TO WRITE THAT!! if u want to ofc <333

*deep breath* alright….here we go

warning. omega Jisung+alpha y/n, thigh riding, messy orgasm

“Jisung, I don’t fucking care that you’re not an Alpha.”

He stops abruptly, pinned under your hips, bridged over his stomach to diminish his chance of getting away. His fussing calms down long enough to lower your face into the crook of his neck. “This is why you never smell like anything?”

A struggled whimper pushes from the back of his throat, flinching at the contact as your nose grazes over his scent gland taking in deep inhales.

“Caramel, vanilla and caramel..”

Jisungs falls flat letting out a long deep sigh the more you take in the barely there hint of his Omegan scent, it’s faint, but enough to render you breathless as it traces past your tongue and fills your lungs. “You smell so..”

He flinches, reaching for your shoulders to push you away. His typical clumsiness and awkward behavior had surprised you, months of living a lie that had you convinced enough despite his abnormal mannerisms and traits.

The Omegas size over you swayed your apprehensive thoughts well enough, even now as he manages to overpower you enough to at least switch your positions in spite of your effort to keep him down.

“You have to stop!” Jisung says frantically, grabbing your wrists to pin by the sides of your head before you can take control over him again. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone!”

“You know I can’t do that, Omega.” You bristle, twisting your hips to push off the floor and free from his hold.

Jisung’s blown pupils dilate rapidly, grinding his teeth together in a panic as your thigh propels up and settles against his groin. “What do you want from me?” He gasps, sucking in a ragged breath. “Pack leader will have me killed.”

His grip on your wrists loosens enough to squirm your way out, inadvertently crushing your thigh between his legs to push yourself up into a sat position, circling around the same waist you always found oddly slim, too defined and miniscule for an Alpha. “You really think I’d let them touch you?”

Jisung’s cheeks flush, bright pink on the apples, a deeper shade of red making its way to his nose the more he succumbs to every desire he’s contained for so long now. Nights of shoving a towel between the crevice of his door, leaving his bedroom window open in hopes of not awakening any Alphas with his sweet delectable scent. Not even suppressants could stop him from biting into his fist, cock rubbed raw against his pillow for a petty taste of relief.

“There’s always been something about you.” Creeping beneath his shirt, you tickle across his back to the dip of his waist, greedily delving your fingers into the carved hollows until your thumbs nearly meet at his navel. “Too pretty for an Alpha.”

Jisung can’t stop the moan that draws out from his parted pouty mouth, left open to swallow in as much air as he can the more you inch closer to him until your chests stick together; heartbeats thrumming at a matched pace. “All this time wasted trying to convince myself that these sub-genders mean nothing.”

His head shakes, eyes wrinkling shut to stop tears from rolling down his cheeks. It’s useless from the moment your thigh nestled between his muscular limbs, bending at your knee to rut against his growing size in a rough manner. “When was your last heat?” You ask huskily, tracing up deep lines of lean muscle carved into his stomach. “It’s been a while hasn’t it baby? So desperate, humping against my leg like some pathetic pup.”

Jisung whines, dropping his face in heated shame as embarrassment scorches its way across his features. Even the tears streaming down his cheeks offer a cooling sense of relief as arousal and need for more take over his mind.

“Please,” he wheezes, arms thrown around your shoulders to lean his forehead against yours, panting out faster to match each adrenaline fueled pump of blood racing through his veins. “Don’t ask me, please.”

“That long?” You coo, smoothing your thumbs around his hardened perked nipples. “Think you can cum from this alone? Is that how long it’s been, pup?”

Jisung nods pitifully, bottom lip trembling as you tweak and pinch at his chest, tugging his peaked nipples roughly and successfully earning a chase from his hips. “So long Alpha.”

The whimpered cracks between his words hide his weak attempt to stay strong. Head too clouded by lust and the delicious abusive friction against his covered length. “More, need more than this.”

With thick pink lips hung open, he leans forward, nose to nose, blinking dumbly and whining. “Will you give me more? Touch me more?”

“Cum for me like this first.” Dragging your nails down his sides hard enough to leave stains of red behind, you grip around his narrow hips, firmly gathering the fabric of his jeans between your digits. “Wanna feel you make a mess on my thigh just like this, show me how good you listen.”

Jisung’s teeth chatter, biting down and shifting his weight lower on your thigh until the hot center between his legs sits half on your pelvis, hands moving to your shoulders to hold on tight and fuck against you in earnest.

“Is this what you wanted pup? What my Omega needed?”

He groans, eyes rolling back far enough to leave only the whites visible, long neck stretched back further enticing you to claim and ruin every pretty inch of clear smooth skin.

“Alpha, I’m—oh fuck, I’m cum—“ his hips jerk, gasping out harshly. Lower half thrashing against your thigh hard enough to leave marks and bruises behind. The rough texture of his boxers and jeans adding a different sensation with each rub and sloppy thrust.

“Cum for me.” You breathe, chest rising rapidly. “Pretty Omega, so pretty for me. Give it to me baby.”

Jisung gasps, stomach caving in as his limbs give out and he drops against your chest, losing his breath with the strike of powerful orgasm ripping through his body. The release drenching right through his bottoms and leaking out onto your thigh forming a huge stain of sugary wet slick and cum.

He’s easy to lay back down after, limp and dizzy, the exposed bottom half of his stomach twitching with the last bits of bliss exiting. Fresh tears have him blinking quickly, a dreamy gaze following your movements as you reach to unsnap the button of his jeans.

“Alpha..”

“Shh shh..” you whisper, slowly unzipping him. “Alpha wants a taste.”

#asks #nct hard hours #nct smut

[avatar-anna]

Can you write something about reader having an ED and Harry doesn’t notice at first but then starts to notice And then eventually helps you through it?

Try To Find a Way Back

trigger warning: mentions and direct references to eating disorders. please be cautious if you find this topic triggering

so, i don't know a ton about eating disorders and what it's like for someone who has one to be actively struggling with it, and writing about something i don't completely understand makes me nervous bc i don't want to get it wrong. however, since you asked, i'm going to do my best to write this!

in case anyone is curious, this is the article i referenced while writing

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

"I just don't understand what her issue is. If I was in her shoes, I'd get help. It's that simple."

"I don't know if—"

"I mean, it's not like struggling with eating makes her special. Like, everyone has body image issues and we just deal with it. Harry will probably break up with her because of all the reassurance she needs. Poor guy probably didn't know what he got himself into when he asked her out. God what a headache for him."

You backed up slowly, not wanting to hear the conversation that was so clearly about you anymore. You'd gone to grab drinks for yourself and who you thought were your friends, but now your hands were shaking so hard you worried the contents in the two wine glasses would come spilling out, glass shattering to the floor. Your heart pounded in your chest, bile rising in your throat. Finding the nearest server walking around with an empty tray and, you set the glasses down before booking it out of the club.

Tears were already starting to pool in your eyes as you ordered an Uber to take you home. Phoebe was one of Harry's friends, but she'd been kind to you since the day he introduced you to her and the rest of his close knit group of friends he'd had for years. You'd been incredibly nervous. You were an outsider, not a model or a writer or a musician or an actor. You weren't extraordinarily talented or beautiful, you were just...you.

None of that seemed to matter to Harry, though. He'd been nothing but flirtatious since the moment he met you. Well, once he was able to look past his nerves. He'd been a bit of a stuttering mess at first, and it wasn't until an hour into talking to him where he really got comfortable enough to flirt, and flirt he did.

It took not one, not two, but three tries to get you to go out with him, your insecurities getting in the way the first two times. But that had been a few months ago, and now you were pretty sure you were in love with him, except now you knew his friends hated you.

She doesn't understand, you thought. It isn't so black and white. You would love to just fix yourself, to make yourself see a doctor, seek help. But eating disorders were a behavioral disease, and when you were in the thick of it, it was hard to shake. You'd told Phoebe about your struggles with your weight and eating disorder in confidence, thinking she was someone you could confide in, only to find her mocking your pain behind your back to someone else, and now you didn't know what to do.

Your phone buzzed with a text message, and you tensed when you saw who it was from.

Bubbie: hey where'd you run off to?

You: not feeling well. heading home

Bubbie: why didn't you say anything? let me take you home

Wiping away a tear, you typed out a text. In most cases, being around Harry would've brought you comfort, but right now, you just wanted to be alone. You couldn't let him see you like this, so unsteady.

You: it's ok. enjoy your first night back with your friends. kissies xx

*.*

You'd been avoiding Harry for the last week and a half. Phoebe's words sent you into a bit of a tailspin, and shame kept you from speaking to him, not wanting to involve him in your issues. Because you realized Phoebe was right. To some extent. You should've been able to ask for help, you should've been able to tell Harry how much you were really struggling, but your shame kept you from reaching out to anyone or asking for help, along with the desire to keep up your habits, which created a toxic cycle.

"It seems like this boy is doing you more harm than good, honey," your mom said over the phone. She was the only one you told about what you overheard Phoebe say.

"He's not the problem, Mom. I just—"

"You were doing so well up until you started seeing him. I just don't want you to slip again. I worry about you, and if being with that boy is causing you problems, then you need to look at the bigger picture."

Her heart was in the right place, it really was. Your mom had been there for a lot of your darkest moments and was rightfully protective of you and your health. But Harry really wasn't the problem. He'd never made you feel like you needed to change your body for him, it was quite the opposite in fact. He constantly praised the way you looked, and not because you needed reassurance or asked him to, despite Phoebe's assumptions. He just really thought you were beautiful.

"I can't just live my life alone, Mom," you said eventually, not wanting to admit more. "He makes me happy."

You heard your mom sigh, but she thankfully didn't press the matter further, even though you knew she had lots to say. She always had lots to say where your boyfriend was concerned. The last thing she said on the matter was, "Just...be careful."

Once you hung up the phone, you fell back against your bed for a few minutes before standing up and walking to your kitchen. A trip to the grocery store was in order, just based on the meager items in your pantry and refrigerator—pasta and no sauce, cereal but no milk, veggies but they weren't organic, and did you really need the family size bag of Doritos—

You took a breath, willing those thoughts away. You were fine. You were just upset about what Phoebe had said about you, nothing more. "It's just the grocery store," you murmured. "You go all the time."

*.*

The grocery store had never looked bigger. There were too many labels, too many colors, too many brands making promises of health and wellness. Your hands gripped the shopping cart until your knuckles were white, eyes wide as you carefully browsed the aisles. Everyone else was going about their business just fine. You watched as people grabbed what they needed with ease, scratching items off their lists and moving into the next thing.

How did they know which bread to buy? How did they decide on a cereal? Whole grain or multi grain? They didn't even look at the nutritional facts before putting something in their carts, didn't stop to do the math, counting calories and carbs and grams of sugar against what they already had. How could they just exist without caring about—

Your phone buzzing pulled you from your anxiety-riddled thoughts. With shaking hands, you pulled your phone out of your oversized zip-up, Harry's face popping up with the notification that he was calling you.

"H—Hello?"

"Hey, you! I feel like I haven't heard from you, so I thought I'd call and check in."

You smiled, despite the anxiousness that still had your shoulders tensed. "Sorry, I've been...busy."

"God, me too," Harry said woefully. "But I've let work get in the way far too much this week. I need to see you. Are you free tonight? I can come over and make dinner for the two of us."

The word dinner filled you with dread. That wasn't a good idea right now. The idea of anyone seeing you eat, even Harry, felt terrifying. But what could you do? Saying no would involve having to explain yourself, and you wanted to do that even less.

"I'd love to," you said, all that anxiety coiling in the pit of your stomach.

"Yeah? You're in for a treat, I happen to be a fabulous cook."

"Can't wait."

You couldn't even feel excited to see Harry. The dread of having to sit through dinner took up too much space in your mind. You tried to will it away. You liked Harry too much to let your mind get in the way of messing up the good thing you had going.

*.*

A few weeks later, and you were at Harry's house for dinner again, only this time it wasn't just the two of you.

Your date with Harry went better than expected. You picked at your food and pushed it around, shame eating away at you as you lied through your teeth about not feeling very well when Harry asked why you'd hardly eaten anything. He'd been so sweet, making you a cup of tea, laying down with you on his couch to soothe your fake stomach ache, kissing the top of your head and rubbing a hand over your stomach comfortingly.

You felt horrible for lying to him, and you very well couldn't come clean after the fact, but it was better than talking about it. The less you talked about it, the better.

Tonight, you'd been carefully picking at your food again, making sure to take bites that were big enough to look normal and trying not to look like it was making you physically unwell. Each bite was excruciating, your mind telling you not to eat anymore and that you could never exercise all those calories away. It was all you could do to not focus on all the ways you knew how unhealthy this dinner was. It didn't match at all with your diet journal and you'd have to make up for it by—

"—just so hard, don't you think, Y/n?"

"Huh?"

Phoebe smiled at you, but it didn't feel very friendly. You'd avoided talking to her all night so far, had even taken the farthest seat away from her at the table.

"We were talking about how hard it is to live here in LA," she said, gesturing vaguely to the people around her. "It feels like there's a new diet trend every week, and it's just so hard to lose weight while not looking completely anorexic—"

"Phoebe," Harry said tightly, cutting her off before she could finish.

Your grip was tight on your fork, unable to meet anyone in the eye. Did they know? You'd been careful tonight, and any of the other times you'd seen Harry or his friends recently. You didn't want their pity or their questions or their judgement. Nothing would've been worse than the disappointed look on Harry's face, or the look of disgust if he discovered the truth.

That still wasn't enough to stop, though.

"What? I didn't mean to be offensive. I'm just saying how hard it is to get to that perfect size. Y/n knows what I'm talking about. God, I feel like I can taste every calorie I eat, can't you, Y/n?"

"I—Not really," you said meekly. This was not the conversation you wanted to have right now, especially since it felt like you could feel everything you'd eaten tonight, every single bite, sinking to the bottom of your stomach.

"God, I wish I could just throw it up, you know? Then I could eat whatever I want and not feel guilty about it. No more diets, no more counting calories, I could—"

"That's enough," Harry said, voice sounding harder than you'd ever heard it. He glared at Phoebe, whose mouth was still open from stopping mid-sentence. Her eyes were wide with shock as she tried to justify her conversation topic.

"Excuse me," you murmured to Harry, standing up on shaking legs to step away from the table.

"Y/n—"

"I just need to use the restroom," you said, trying your best to talk around the lump in your throat.

You went upstairs to one of the guest bathrooms where you wouldn't be disturbed, though you locked the door to the toilet for good measure. Panic and guilt and self-loathing swirled through you, tears burning your eyes.

For weeks, you told yourself you had it under control. Your behavior was strict, but not worrisome. And effective, too, but that only made guilt and shame mingle with the feeling of success. Your jeans were loose, but you took to wearing baggy clothes so no one would notice. The scale in your bathroom got lower, but it never seemed low enough. Your stomach was taught, rib cage starting to poke through skin, but that just made you feel even worse about yourself and how quickly things escalated. It was a neverending cycle, but as you continued to lean over the toilet, you told yourself it would be just this once. Just this once and you wouldn't do it again. Just this once—

"Y/n? Can you let me in?"

Tears fell harder when you heard his voice. You couldn't let him see you like this. You couldn't face the humiliation, how disappointed he'd be when he realized—

"Y/n, open the door, or I'll break it down, I swear to God," Harry said with urgency in his voice.

Wiping your eye and then your mouth, you stood up, trembling as you turned the lock. You opened your mouth, unsure if an apology or an explanation would come tumbling out of your lips. But Harry pulled you to his chest before you could say a thing. You couldn't help the sobs that wracked your body as he held you up. His hand held the back of your head fiercely, but not harshly, the other one pushing you as close to him as he could.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I should've said something sooner. I knew something was wrong, but I didn't realize—I never should've—I'm so sorry."

You didn't find out what Harry thought he shouldn't have done because he rested on top of your head, kissing you repeatedly. He squeezed you so tight, as if he worried you would slip away if he didn't. You couldn't focus on anything else but your own emotions, too ashamed at being caught and guilty for having slipped so far in the first place.

"I was okay," you sobbed. "I thought I was okay. I thought—I thought I could control it."

Harry finally leaned away from you, just enough so he could hold your face in his hands and look you in the eye. "This is not your fault. Do you understand? It's not your fault."

More tears streamed down your face, but Harry's thumbs were there to wipe them away. His eyes roved over your face, searching for something, but you didn't know what. Eventually, he said, "There's so much I want to say, but I think for now...I think you should rest."

You agreed, so you didn't try to object. You were exhausted, just wanted the whole evening to evaporate into thin air. You didn't even care if Harry's friends were still in the house or not, you just wanted all the thoughts in your head—the ones still screaming at you to finish what you started and the ones begging you to let Harry help—to stop.

"I just want it to stop," you mumbled.

Harry rested his forehead against yours, breathing in deep. "I know."

*.*

"You're doing so well, love."

It didn't feel like it. In fact, you felt the exact opposite of well. But Harry was holding your hand as you walked through the aisles of the grocery store, his encouragement pushing you to take each step. "I don't think I can do this today."

"What did your eating disorder say to make you think that?" Harry murmured, causing you to grumble under your breath, but it did the trick. You took another step and grabbed the jar of pesto off the shelf.

He'd been doing that a lot recently. Ever since you came back from the treatment facility, he talked about your eating disorder as if it were a separate person, like it was a little devil with red horns talking over your shoulder and not a disease. It grated on your nerves at first because it made you feel like he was talking down to you, and because he was right. Your eating disorder had been the voice in your head and making you make unhealthy decisions. How he saw it first, you had no idea, you were just thankful he was still here, still with you on your road to recovery.

The trip to the grocery store took longer than it probably should've, especially since you only needed a couple things. But the minute you stepped inside, your body tensed up as you took everything in. It was a struggle not to turn packages over to read the nutritional facts, and even harder to put things in your cart. Today was re-introducing day, which meant eating a meal that had foods you'd actively avoided in the past. It scared the shit out of you, which was why Harry was here.

He'd been incredible, more patient than other people would be. He put up with your mother's harsh words when she blamed him for your relapse, he was there every day he was allowed to visit, and he picked up every phone call when you eventually came home. Whether it was to talk you down or talk about random things that came into his head to distract you from dangerous thoughts, he was there.

You honestly didn't know what you did to deserve him.

"How can I help?" Harry asked when you came to another stop.

"Do we really have to buy the parmesan cheese?" you asked, eyeing the aisle filled with various cheeses with a queasy stomach.

"I think you can do it," Harry said, not entirely answering the question. "I can tell you a story while I put it in the cart for you, if that helps."

"Okay," you said, not really sure if it would.

"Right, let me think for a moment," Harry said, mostly to himself. "Oh. Got it! Okay, so one time I went on this blind date, right? And I normally don't like them because my friends seemed to think I can't function without a partner, which is horribly embarrassing, and I normally have a horrible time, but I went to the bar I agreed to meet this person at, and—"

"What? You hated it?" you asked. Part of you thought it was weird that Harry was talking about a date with someone else, but it was doing its job.

Harry raised his brows at you. "I talk, you push."

You rolled your eyes, but pushed the cart another inch, trying to focus on his voice and not where you were headed.

"As I was saying, I get to the bar, and I'm like, holy shit, because I see the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in my life, and as I go over to talk to her, someone calls out to me, and I realize the girl I saw wasn't who I wasn't supposed to go on a date with, it was someone else. But I can't just ditch this other girl even though I'm dying to just go over to the girl by the bar, so I stay put and try to engage in conversation and laugh when I think I'm supposed to, but I just—All I could think about was the girl in this cute little mini skirt and vest and what was making her laugh so damn much."

"Mini skirt and vest...at a bar...Wait, you don't mean—You were on a blind date when we met?"

The bar in question wasn't one you frequented. It was an upscale one, and you went because your friend dragged you inside, curious to see if she could get any CEOs to buy her a drink, and you...you were just there to make sure your friend got home okay. But somehow you bumped into Harry, though now you supposed you knew why.

"Not technically," Harry said. "The date was over when I walked up to you, and, well, you know the rest. I charmed the pants off you."

You snorted. "That's not what happened."

You'd known who Harry was when before he introduced himself, it was kind of hard not to. You'd seen music videos and heard his songs on the radio and seen him on your TV more than a handful of times, but it was definitely surprising to see him in person, especially because on screen he seemed so chill and cool and cute, the Harry you met was cute, but he could hardly get a word out.

"Nonsense. I remember it differently," Harry said with a sniff.

"You were so nervous it was so cute," you said, wrapping your arms around one of his while he took a turn with the cart.

Kissing the top of your head, he said, "If that's how you want to remember it, fine. But I do remember talking to you for hours and feeling like no time had passed at all. We closed down the bar, do you remember?"

"Mmhm," you said, nodding against his shoulder. "And then you tried to take me home."

"Can you blame me? I met the girl of my dreams, I couldn't just let you leave."

"You mean that?" you asked, looking up at him.

With everything you'd been through recently, it surprised you to know Harry was still with you. This battle you were fighting was lifelong, and you wouldn't have blamed him for leaving somewhere down the line. You loved him, and it would've hurt like hell, but you would've understood. But he never did, and every time you asked him about it, he just said he wasn't going anywhere.

Eventually, you stopped asking.

"I do," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "You did it, love."

"What?" Raising your head off his shoulder, you looked around. You were at checkout, all the items you and Harry set out to buy today sitting in your basket. "We did it."

"You did it, Y/n. I'm so proud of you."

Relief rushed through you. It was one hurdle, just one, but each one was a victory, and Harry was there to help you celebrate each one. It was too public to kiss him, even though you felt the urge to, so you squeezed his hand and kissed the top of it instead.

"I love you," you whispered.

"I love you too," he said, taking you by surprise when he tilted your chin up for a brief kiss. "You ready to check out?"

Anxiety filled your belly once more as the weight of your situation bore down on you once again. Squeezing Harry's hand again, you shook your head.

Harry wrapped an arm around your shoulders and tucked you into his side. The warmth emanating from him was a comfort, and you breathed in deep, letting the scent of his cologne and laundry detergent flood your senses to distract you.

"Don't listen to the disease, Y/n. Listen to me, okay? How about another story?"

You nodded. "Please."

"You're going to be alright, Y/n, I promise," he said.

And maybe you didn't believe him completely now, but you trusted him enough to believe it for you until you did.

#harry styles #harry styles angst #hs angst #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic