#but anything more than that and you can forget it

[hairmetal666]

Steve wins the bat plush at a fair when he's seven. He doesn't care about bats, but it's the prize for making all five baskets in the basketball game, so he gets the little bat. Its eyes are a little crooked and one wing is slightly smaller than the other, but it being lopsided sort of makes it cuter.

He and his dad, they're supposed to be going on rides now, but his dad's pager keeps going off. He puts Steve next to a funnel cake stand, tells him not to move, and goes in search of a pay phone. Fifteen minutes pass, and Steve is bored under the flashing lights and tinkling music. He wants to play not sit and wait.

Eventually, he drifts back towards the midway, watches the people rushing by, searches for a sign of his dad's return. His attention is caught by another boy at the basketball booth. He has to be about Steve's age, with a mop of dark curls on top of his head and a jean jacket that's slightly too big, sleeves flopping over his hands as he lines up his shots.

This boy, he's terrible at basketball. Every shot is too high or too short or goes wide, but he's trying. Even from this distance, Steve can see how hard he's trying. He uses up his five balls, fishes into his jacket pocket for more money, and gets five more.

He misses every shot. This time, when he goes back for more money, he comes up empty. Steve thinks he sees his lip shaking.

A man, one in a leather jacket and boots that Steve thinks look mean, comes up to the boy, drops a heavy hand on his shoulder. He's too far away to hear the conversation, assumes the boy asks to play again and the man's response is a shaken head and a tight smile. They walk away from the games, right towards Steve, who slinks back to the side of the midway, not wanting to be caught staring.

"What was it you wanted? That stupid bat? Just another piece of trash you wanna bring in my house." Steve hears as they pass.

The boy nods, but keeps his eyes down and to the side.

He feels bad then. Felt bad before, but now he looks at his own bat, at its funny eyes and poorly attached wings, and wishes he could hand it over to the boy who really wants it. Steve almost does, then, makes to go after them, but his dad appears, dropping a hand to Steve's shoulder and saying, "ready to hit those rides?" And he knows the opportunity is gone, knows his dad will say it's too soft, not what men do.

Steve manages to lose himself for a while in the swirling lights and funhouse music and carnival rides, forget about the little bat in his back pocket and the boy who wanted one so desperately. But then his dad's pager goes off some more, he goes back to the pay phone, and Steve ducks into the low brick building that houses the bathrooms.

His eyes immediately land on the same boy from the basketball game. His eyes are red, face damp, obviously from tears, and Steve just--

"Here." He shoves the bat into the boy's chest.

For a second, the brownest eyes Steve's ever seen widen at him, before narrowing in a harsh glare, the boy's teeth barred.

"Why?" He snarls.

Steve thinks he may regret every choice that led him to this but he says, he says, "Because I want you to have it."

The boy blinks a few times, hand reaching out to gently pinch the bat's smallest wing. "You sure?"

Steve nods and the bat is slowly withdrawn from his grasp.

"No takesies-backsies?"

"It's yours."

The boy looks at the bat in awe, and Steve says, "see? It already looks happier with you."

The boy's beaming smile is cut-off by a voice calling from the door, "you in there,? I ain't got time to be waiting for your boohooing."

"Coming!" The boy carefully tucks the bat into an inner pocket of his jacket. "Thank you," he whispers, eyes big and glistening and happy, before he disappears out the door.

---

13 years later, give or take a few months, and Steve stands in the cracked shell of a bisected trailer, rummaging through what remains of a life well-lived, searching for anything whole. He's already found a few undamaged mugs and clean hats, but this room--it took a lot of damage. The brunt of it, really. Some sick sort of joke, after everything.

It's mostly rubble in here, scraps of fabric; slivers of notebook paper, magazine, poster; crumbled shards of vinyl and cassette plastic. A few times he comes across the disembodied limb of one of those dnd figures, and something weird happens to his throat.

In the far corner there's half of a dresser collapsed into itself, and he shuffles through the debris to see what he can find. There's something, soft and black, just the edge of it, peaking out from under half of a drawer face. He pulls it out, careful as can be and it's--it's a plush bat. It's a little dirty, but unharmed, though its eyes are a little wonky, and one wing is smaller than the other.

He holds it and he stares and he has to brace himself against the wall. It can't be--it's not the same one--but he remembers those big brown eyes and the curls and--

"Harrington," a warm, rich voice calls from what's left of the hallway. "You get lost in there?"

Eddie shuffles in, slow, careful with his crutches. And it--it took so long, months and months of convalesce and physical therapy, still physical therapy, but he's here. He's alive. He's perfect. And the something blooming between them, it's not spoken yet, but it's there, growing, and now, now--

"Oh my god, you found Lilith! I thought she was toast."

"Lilith?" He's still cradling the little lopsided bat in his hands, but moves closer to hand it over to Eddie.

"Yes, Lilith." Eddie takes the bat, presses it to his chest. "The first boy I ever loved gave her to me."

His heart turns over in his chest and when he swallows his throat clicks. Eddie doesn't notice, he's smiling softly at the bat, at Lilith, but then, "why are you looking at me like that?"

"First boy you ever loved?" He says. He thinks he sounds normal.

Somehow, Eddie's smile grows even softer. "Yeah. Roan County Fair, years ago. Tried to win her, but--" he clicks his tongue--"never had great hand-eye coordination. And then this kid just gave her to me out of nowhere. I used to think I was going to marry him."

"And now?"

Eddie laughs. "I grew up, Steve."

And for a second, he doesn't know what to say, but then, "I was right then, huh? That she'd be happier with you."

He stares at Steve, those same big brown eyes, wide and glistening. "Steve that was--Steve?" Eddie presses a hand over his mouth, overcome, before launching himself into Steve's arms. The crutches clatter to the floor, but Steve has him, will always have him, no matter what.

"I can't believe you kept her," Steve whispers.

"God, I carry her everywhere. She's Corroded Coffin's mascot, and you--Steve, I can't believe that was you."

"Surprise," he bumps Eddie's forehead with his.

They hold each other in the center of the destruction, but none of that matters right now, not when it feels like every moment since they very first met as children was leading them to this.

From the other half of the trailer, they hear footsteps, chattering, Wayne and Robin and Dustin, but Steve wants this to last a little longer.

"So, marriage...that still off the table?"

Eddie laughs softly, nuzzles his face against Steve's neck. "Are you kidding, sweetheart? No way I'm letting you go."

#what if eddie uses the bat as a pocket square at their wedding what then #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #fluff #friends to lovers #childhood first meeting #post-canon #bat plush #carnival #carnival games #steve gives eddie a plush #eddie falls in love immediately #childhood crush #all the dads suck

[peachesofteal]

Deckhand Simon Riley / female reader 18+ mdni, dubcon. Simon is very no good terrible and kind of mean. Predator/prey. Excessive alcohol consumption, manipulation. Spitting, size, praise, a little bit of breeding/daddy - kink.

Simon arrives to town on the last summer wind. 

It’s cold for the shoulder of the season. Not the coldest he’s ever felt, but cold enough his scars become rigid, inflexible swaths of skin littered across his body pinching at every hinge. 

He can already feel the burn. The stretch and strain of his upper back, his arms, his legs. Can already feel the weight of the pots, sharp metal slamming and crashing, teeming with things that look more like creatures than they do delicacies.

Hook. String. Pull. Block.

The people stare at him, wide, wind whipped eyes peeking out underneath knit wool hems, gagged and confused, whispers passed back and forth like children with a lolly. 

Did you see him? 

Look at the size of ‘im- 

Is that Ernest’s new deckhand? 

Fucking monster of a man, I tell you. 

He keeps his head down. Eyes fixed to the floor, old instinct still churning in his blood, shoulders stiff and squared. Captains are all the same, whether on land or at sea. Says “yes sir” as Ernest sizes him up, asks about his previous two seasons, and then sends him away with a perfunctory nod and a departure date. 

The Old Man leaves in two weeks. See you then.

King crab fishing is the closest he’s felt to having a foot in the grave since he was actually in one. Opponents in a firefight are known, predictable. Monsters of their own kind, but ones he knows intimately. Minds of a killer, the lot of them, a certain subset of consciousness nearly shared. 

The ocean shares its mind with no one. Its secrets are its own, buried in the briny deep, never to be revealed. 

And the Bering-  

The Bering is its own horror. Savage and cruel to those who would tempt it, willing to swallow anything offered and pull it down into fathomless black water. Cold enough to kill a man in seconds. Violent enough to toss them all to sea. 

He’s seen it happen. More than once. The environment is uncontrollable, unpredictable, lethal, and the work is arduous. 

The company is tolerable at best. The season is short, yet taxing. Deckhands live dozens of years, in a few short months. They stare off into nothing, watching the horizon, long gone look in their eye. 

Still, he sees familiar flickers in them, same firelight he’s seen in the many men he’s killed, or worked alongside of. 

At the base of it, these types of men, his kind, are all the same. 

Rabid and dangerous in packs. 

The cove is nearly derelict. The town spills up into white and black spruce, houses nestled in the grove of tree trunks twice Simon’s size, all doors facing the warped and tilted wooden slats of a long-loved dock. 

There isn’t much here, a small grocery, a liquor store, a petrol station and of course- 

A pub. 

Aptly named The Wharf, the bar is as old hat as they come, seedy and sticky, sunken into the soft earth. It’s everything he’s come to expect in a fishing town this far up north, where the season is variable, and the money is too. Dark wood from floor to ceiling, over polished oak horseshoe, neglected stools and booths. Everything creaks, and The Wharf is no exception. The pub, the dock, the trees. Wind whistles and bark groans, a rasp you can only find here, in these places where time is too slow, and the world forgets. 

There are rooms above the bar, usually rented to his ilk, deckhands biding their time, greenhorns rattling with excitement. They all filter in weeks before the season opens, and when he checks into his, he’s not surprised when the woman at the desk tells him he’s got the last one. 

There are only ten, after all.

The Wharf’s side door swings open in a gust of blistering wind, yet not a single person turns their head. 

None except him, though he doesn’t need to look to know it’s you. 

He can smell you. Can feel you, clear across the floor. Sea salt and lavender, it whirls in your wake wherever you go, and when he lingers on the sidewalk outside of your little workshop, he swears he’s standing in a cloud of it. 

“If y’need jackets, bibs mended from last season, there’s a place on the corner, next to The Wharf. She’ll get ‘em done before season.” 

You’re the bloody seamstress. The tailor. Nimble fingers twisting and tying, threading and looping inside a faded light blue storefront, working into the small hours of the night. Your workspace is small, and overflowing with bright orange polyurethane covered clothes, long lengths of neoprene, socks, shirts, wristers. A mass of work, it seems, one that keeps your light on after all others have gone dark. 

Except The Wharf’s. 

It’s the second time he’s seen you here. 

He doesn’t count the times he’s seen you without you realizing it. Doesn’t count the times he’s finished a cigarette on the street at the perfect angle, a solid perch to peer right in through your window. He doesn’t count the times he’s watched you from The Wharf’s one dark window, when you step outside to take a long breath of air, stretching your back and shaking your arms out, rolling your head in a circle- 

and baring your throat for the slaughter.

The first was days ago, close to zero hundred, when you swung in to settle on a barstool with your back to the door. You look like you’re made from spools of silk, even underneath all of your winter layers, big coat, knit wool hat. There’s a coruscated dapple in your eye, one that manages to shimmer even in the darkest shadows of the bar, voice saccharine as he’s ever heard, dipping into a melody as you go back and forth with the bartender. 

He hears it now when he closes his eyes at night, awash in a sea of bourbon, cigarette stench sunken into his skin. A gentle rhythm, a syrupy voice, saying his name. 

Screaming it. 

You catch his gaze across the bar. Catch him watching you, peeling you, picking you apart, but you say nothing. Blink a few times, glance down at your beer, pretend to busy yourself with something else. It’s not a flinch, but close enough to it. 

He knows what you see. What you should see. 

A monster. Licking his lips at a girl. A fire breather bearing down on top of a princess. 

If he crossed this room right now and yanked you off that barstool, who would interrupt? Intervene? They’re all men of the same vein, born from different battlefields. The rules of engagement become status quo, regardless of whether you’re baptized by the Bering, or by fire.

Rabid, dangerous in packs.  

Eleven days left, and he’s finally found something worthwhile to occupy his time, besides lurking in the dingy corners of The Wharf like an old, decrepit sailor. 

You. 

You live above the shop, an old fire escape leads to a wooden door with a big window, one covered by a curtain hung from the inside. 

The Wharf’s rooms have a fire escape too. A metal catwalk. 

Metal. Who’s the idiot who decided metal anything would be good in a place like this? Iron nearly turned red, rusted to all hell. One shift, and it all falls down. 

He takes his watch there, at night. A gargoyle at his post, waiting for the flicker of your kitchen and bedroom lights, shapes and shadows dancing behind the thin drapes, a ballerina on stage for the masses. 

For him. 

He brings you his gear. Looms over you at the desk where your sewing machine is grinding out an industrial stitch thicker than what he’s seen on parachutes. 

“H-hi.” Hi. Aren’t you cute? A little lamb, alone in the woods.

He nods. Stays silent. Enjoys watching his catch twist herself up on his hook. 

You glance at the noxious orange pieces draped over his arm, and half timidly reach.

“Need those patched? Er, like… have any tears or rips?” Not really. He keeps his gear in good condition. Throws out his underclothes after every season- can never get the stench of fish out of em, but his outer gear is well cared for. 

It almost pained him to rip them apart last night. 

“Simon.” He gives it expectantly, jogging your manners to the forefront. You have the good grace to look embarrassed with how fast you spit out your own name.

“Bibs have a few holes. Big ones. Jacket’s got a rip under the armpit.” You reach, tiny little fingers stretching across the barren space between him and you, and he lashes down the urge to snatch your wrist out of midair and bring it to his teeth. 

Do you taste like lavender? Sea salt? Is your cunt briny like the Bering, slicked sweet and brackish? 

“Okay, well, I should have them done before-“ 

“You better.” You startle, eyes wide and confused, before they find your feet, cowed little girl before an awful man. “Jus’ need em, is all.” He softens the approach, not willing to cut you down just yet (that comes later), and you respond well, perfectly, pushing your glasses up onto the bridge of your nose with a genuine smile. 

Live bait on the line. Set, cast, hook.

“Got it.” 

His control is becoming a house of cards. 

You’re in The Wharf earlier tonight, asking Jimmy for a double, whiskey over ice and nearly to the brim of a rocks glass. Just one, you say. Neck is sore as hell.

He maintains a distance. More inclined to watch you devolve, fascinated by the way you unravel with each sip. Lightweight. Figures.

You pull your glasses off and rub your temples, hopping off the bar stool with a quick word over your shoulder, a request for another drink. “Just goin’ to the bathroom.” You explain, walking away with a hardly detectable sway in your step- 

directly into the side of the wall the bar juts out from. 

Someone, a woman who never so much as looks up the entire time she’s here, furrows her brow at where you’re rubbing your forehead and tsks. 

“Your glasses!” You turn, embarrassed, downright mortified, and sheepishly slide your fingers across the bar until you find them. 

“Oh, right. Thanks Laurie.” Laurie, says nothing. Not until you’ve turned away and almost disappeared into the bathroom. Then, she mutters to herself, into her fresh pint. 

“Damn girl is blind as bat without those things.” 

He buys Laurie another round before he leaves for the night. An eventual thanks. 

"Can I bum one?"

His neck nearly snaps. Where did you come from? You're timid in the mouth of the alley, lichen washed red brick flanking you on either side, your hands folded together at your navel.

"Little girls allowed to smoke 'round here?" Now your neck snaps.

"I- I'm not a little girl, thank you." It's like you're trying to turn your nose up at him, but he's a giant above, and it's hopeless.

"Sure you're not." He plucks the cigarette from his lips, and then holds it out to you. Your breath hitches, top teeth digging deep, an instigation, invitation. His hand whips forward, too fast for you to realize, gripping your chin, pressing his thumb into the flesh of your bottom lip. "Want a drag or not?"

"S-sure." He's got your cheeks squeezed together, just so, enough that the fat of them crowds your mouth and makes the s sound more like a whistle.

He doesn't let go as he feeds it to you, stopping just before the filter touches your teeth. "Go ‘head then." You draw, deep, eyes closing as that first hit of nicotine rushes your blood, undoubtedly making you light headed, and his cock thickens with dreams of his fat head pushing between your lips instead of this cigarette, dreams of you split open on him with a soaked pussy, neck bared for his teeth.

Hook. String. Pull.

He squeezes himself overtop his jeans, heavy weight pulsing between his legs, a dangerous affliction growing larger and larger with each second. He could rock against his palm, right here in front of you, and it would feel worlds better than the last measly meal he had, months and months ago. Nothing will compare to you, he already knows.

You see it all. Frozen like a deer in headlights, your lips part, transfixed, confused. Will you run? Will you shout? Will you tell?

"I uh, I better... get going. Have a lot of work t-to finish." Good girl. He nods, letting go of his aching cock, slipping the cigarette back in his mouth, searching for even a hint of lavender and sea salt lingering in the filter.

"Goodnight."

Four days left, and his gear is finished.

You leave a message for him, letting him know he can pick up whenever is convenient. During shop hours. Cash or card accepted. What a dutiful business owner.

You’re in the back when he arrives. It’s long past close, but no one locks their doors here. Anyone could walk right in.

“Be right out!” You yell, slightly muffled. He doesn’t respond, doesn’t opt to give himself away, just waits at the front desk, where a mug of fresh coffee sits, still hot, still steaming.

Desperation for claim, for possession, claws up his throat to his tongue, thrashing in a fit until saliva pools in his cheeks. He sucks through his teeth, rolling the pockets behind his molars forward, pulling as much as he can, his soul even, up and out, landing it in a glob on the surface of your evening caffeine fix.

It sits there, tiny bubbles and all, an island in endless ocean, unable to break apart or disappear. Blatant. Obvious.

So, he sticks his finger in it and gives a quick swirl. For good measure.

There’s rustling in the back, and then you pop through the doors, glasses sliding to your nose. “Hi! So sor-“

You grind to a halt, spine curling forward, as if you’re trying to protect your precious organs from his fingers, avoiding his grip around your ribs, his urge to rip you open and devour you whole.

He smirks. “Got a message my gear is done? Nick o’ time.”

“Yeah, it’s… it’s done. I’ve got it, one sec.” You fidget, gun shy and shuddering, flitting away on the turn of a heel, eager to escape where he hulks in front of your desk, no doubt.

When you come back, you’re a bit more put together. Polished. Glasses in their rightful place, you place his bib and jacket on the counter unceremoniously, lips pressed together. He hands you a wad of cash, and you count it carefully, keeping your eyes pinned on the bills as he inspects the stitching, taking stock in your sharp attention to detail. “Like new, great work. Thank you.”

You go doe eyed, demure, flattered, and then confused, trying to reconcile this man, this version with the one from last night. “T-thank you.”

It all comes to a head, two days out.

There’s a party of sorts, a gathering. Entire boat of deckhands crammed into The Wharf, plus others, town residents and even some from the next over.

Too many, for Simon’s tastes.

Too many, except for one.

You’re crammed between the wall and someone’s shoulder, occasionally saying hello, accepting thanks for work well done. You keep your idle hands busy, accepting drink after drink, a shot of tequila, another of rum.

You’re even dressed up, cute as a button. Sweet as cream, honey on the hive.

Your hiccups ring out from across the room directly to his ears, chest shaking with each one. The bar is at max volume, shouting, cheering, chattering, but he can hear you crystal clear. Can hear the high pitch echo of each one, can hear your throat bobbing, the long exhale singing from your nose after trying to hold your breath. “I need some air,” you say to your neighbor, “be right back.”

He downs the last of his bourbon, subtle fire in his throat, and then makes for the back door.

Your arms are crossed, leaning against the brick with your head tipped back, eyes closed. Wearing a knit sweater, a skirt, and wool leggings, for fucks sake. “Dangerous place to be, a little girl all alone.” Your eyes snap wide, startled.

“Simon,” you don’t stutter his name, liquor easing your nerves, sweetening you up to a slaughter like the little lamb you are. Your ability to assess risk is long gone, and when you peek over at him, head rolling, the usual skittish haunt of your gaze is nowhere to be found.

“Out for a smoke?”

“No, just some fresh air.”

“Poor lamb. Drink too much?” You shrug, steadying your balance against the wall. Trying to appear more with it than he knows you are.

He stalks closer, closer than you should be comfortable with, but you only sigh, wilted as the grass withered by the impending winter.

He tests. Probes. Brushes a hand against yours, watches how you tip a little to the side, his side, eyes glassy between hard blinks. “You’re so sweet, little lamb.”

“Oh,” you make an o with your lips when you say it, like you’re suprised. “T-thank you.”

“Do you taste sweet, you think?” You jolt, but he handles your hip like he’s afraid you’ll fall, though you have a better grasp on your balance than you think you do. “Hmm?”

“I’m… I’m not sure.” It’s a race now, one you’re desperate to catch up in, but falling behind faster and faster.

Hook. String. Pull.

“Open your mouth.” You do, on instinct, and he hums with approval. “Good girl.” He sticks his thumb inside, depressing your tongue, shoving back and to the side, hard enough he stretches the corner of your lip, and then tugs.

Hooked.

You’re too drunk to process it, not really. Enflamed with a rollercoaster of shock, shame and disgust. But beneath it all, something else rises, breaks at the surface for air. Desire.

He doesn’t waste the moment, hands splayed at your ribcage, shoving you back against the wall, your shoulders slamming into it. He’s on you, rabid, wolf at the throat of a lamb, tongue forcing its way between your teeth without permission. You jerk, tense, muscles shifting like you might put your arms up, but instead they fall limply to your sides, and you moan.

String.

The length of his torso, chest and stomach press against you, hold you in place, allowing him free rein to wrap his fingers into the fine fabric of your wool stockings and rip. The shocked little gasp falls from you as expected, but you’re too far gone to fight. Prize on the line, he tugs them aside and strokes over your folds, already wet for him, dipping into your cunt, tight and fluttering around his invasion.

“Si- Simon- stop.” You push at him shoulders, trying and failing, squirming and whining. He shoves deeper, one nearly too much, two an impossible fit.

“Why would I stop when you’re so wet f’me little girl?” He presses the swell of his cock against you, your walls clenching at the contact, and he chuckles darkly. “Gonna say you don’t want this, sweet lamb? Gonna lie when this little pussy is dripping all over my hand?” You’re scandalized. Ripped from your comfort and thrown ashore, a fish out of water, gasping on land. He breathes into your neck, biting and sucking his way back up to your mouth where he distracts you for a brief moment, long enough to tip your balance to the side, a stutter step disrupting your focus, and delivers an opportune strike to snatch your glasses off your face so fast you flinch backwards in the confusion. He manages to cup your head just in time and cushion its bounce against the brick.

Pull.

“My glasses.” Your voice trembles, and he’s surprised to feel a twinge of guilt. Don’t worry little one. He’ll pull you apart, but he’ll put you back together. Eventually. “Simon… my- my glasses, do you see my glasses?”

“No, sorry. It’s too dark, sweet thing.” You tear up, horrified, and they spill down your cheeks, fat and wet, leaving tracks all the way to your neck.

He licks them with glee.

“I need to-“ he pays you no mind, returning to his work, his meal, shoving your knee to the side and lifting you up the wall, until the smear of you cunt weeps all over his jeans. “I need-“

“Know what you need, little girl.” He shreds your leggings wider, tearing a hole big enough to expose your thighs, your lower belly. Later, when he has you pinned to his bed, he’ll eat you until you can’t speak or see, but for now, bludgeoning the entirety of his cock into this too tight space will have to do.

You hiccup again. It’s too sweet, rots his soul. He wonders if you’ll be here, when he gets back. If you’ll run, or if you’ll wait. Maybe he’ll give you something to remember him by, knock you up, nice and fat by summer, heavy with a piece of him. Maybe.

He slides his zipper now, pulling the weight of his cock free, sliding the head through your slit as you look down. You can’t see, how big, how thick, how impossible it looks, head trying to push into you, your body unyielding, spasming as he batters his way inside. You claw at his shoulders, spitting out a half moan, a half sob, and he taps his forehead to yours. “It’s too m-much, too- hurts-“

“Don’t fight it. You’ve got plenty of room, be good.” He soothes with a lie, probably. You’re so tight he can feel you in his bones, restricting, bearing down. He pushes, heat and slick closing in around him, making him dizzy, his pulse pounding in his ears. “Fuck- that’s it. Feel that?” He drags your hand to the root of his cock, splaying your fingers around the base. “Feel yourself splittin’ open on me?” You moan some nonsense, some sort of garbage mixed with a yes, and a no. “Perfect little pussy, stretchin’ for me, yeah?” Only for me.

He fucks you so hard you’re shoving higher and higher up the wall, cunt choking him with each thrust, your fingers twisted in his sweatshirt, clinging on for dear life, a sailor in a storm. Lost in the fuzzy, blurry world without your glasses, he gives you a port in the dark, a lighthouse calling you home. He spreads you wide, rolling over your clit, pinching, thumbing, finding the rhythm that makes your buzz, hips starting to jerk, swallow him up.

Unbelievably, you tighten up even more, eyes slamming shut, and he holds you steady at your hips, driving deep, mouth on your ear. “Gonna be good and cum? Gonna show daddy how good you can be and cum all over his cock?” You gasp, and he drags you to it, pushes you over, rolls your shoulders back against the brick when you curl forward, pussy so tight it tries to force him out. You scream with it, but he covers your mouth, palm to your tongue, elbow at your collarbone. He’s relentless now, shoving himself until there isn’t a space inside you not filled with him, as fast as possible, body like a ragdoll. When he’s on the edge, teetering so close, he pinches your cheeks. “Open up, little lamb.” Your brow furrows, but partially blind, you’re more trusting, and you do as you’re asked. His hips piston, a rough saw, chasing, sprinting towards the end, heat climbing down his spine and across every muscle until he’s shoved so deep inside you he thinks he’s in your belly, and rears back, sucking a glob of spit to his lips and launching it into your mouth, just as he floods your pussy with cum. He jerks inside you, slow strokes, and you hang limply against him, fucked out, still drunk, docile as a lamb.

You hiss when he pulls free and lurch forward against his chest, not able to stand on your own. “C’mon, let’s get you a bath.” He murmurs into your hair, and you protest weakly.

“My glasses.”

“I’ll find ‘em.” He vows, patting their safe spot in his front pocket. “Don’t worry.”

#peaches writes #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #writing about the ocean and ocean adjacent things really does it for me #and I wrote half of it on my phone so mind the mistakes thanks #simon spits in your drinks agenda #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #unedited

[noveauskull]

Reader, jiyan and Geshu lin daughter bringing her boyfriend to meet their parents. OVERPROTECTIVE DADS ALERT❗❗❗

Jiyan & Geshu Lin With Your Daughter As Her Father(s)! (SFW)

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"Mom, Dads, this is my boyfriend"

You watched your daughter introduce your two husbands, Geshu Lin and Jiyan, to her boyfriend that you had already heard about a few days ago.

Naturally you had to be the calmer parent, cause you knew that Geshu Lin and Jiyan would be taking on the task of going bonkers over their daughter growing up so fast, to the point she has found someone to be with.

Even worse, your daughter could take inspiration from your love life, and might just date more than one boy! Now the anxiety really hits.

You glanced at both of your sides, on your right was Jiyan, and on your left was Geshu Lin. Both men sitting on each side of the couch with their eyes locking in with the younger male individual, they clearly were not pleased.

"He works as an intern at the hospital, aiming to be a nurse there, and his parents have respectable jobs too! His mom is a teacher and his dad is a lawyer! And he can play 3 instruments! Isn't he talented?"

Your daughter boasted over her boyfriend. You watched the young man blush at her words and scratch his nape, telling her to not shower him with too much praise over something he was simply born with.

You let out an awkward smile. You already knew the boy was a total sweetheart, he was respectful, and even offered to help you when you had to clean the dishes.

Even better, he asked to bring home some of the dishes you cooked on your first meeting, you can't imagine your daughter being with any other guy than him, because you were already a hundred percent supportive of their relationship.

"A teacher, lawyer, and nurse? Your family must be very rich" Geshu Lin said, smiling at the boy, but for some reason, it didn't feel friendly at all.

"A-Ah yes, their jobs do help them earn a lot of money, especially when they've been doing those jobs for a long time" The boyfriend said, stuttering when he saw Geshu Lin's smile drop the moment he spoke.

"That's good then, at least our daughter has someone to buy her all the jewelry and clothes she wants" Jiyan nodded, however he wasn't smiling one bit.

"..."

The room went silent, all you did was take a small sip of the tea you prepared. Glancing at the two men beside you with their cold eyes glaring daggers onto the poor boy's head.

Before you knew it, it was only you and your daughter doing all the talking, the 3 men in the room barely had anything to say, but Geshu Lin and Jiyan seemed very calm, so you didn't do anything to disturb their thought process.

Once it was getting late, you bid your daughter's boyfriend goodbye, watching your daughter plant a kiss onto her boyfriend's cheek before he left as you closed the door.

"Well I think that went well" You said, smiling at your daughter who seemed very happy about today's performance.

"Yeah! Dads' were super chill about it too" The two of you laughed together, heading to the living room to watch TV.

What you two didn't realize though, was that the two men that were usually at home wasn't around, you were just too relieved to even notice that the two were outside the house, both standing beside your daughter's boyfriend.

"Make sure you treat my daughter very well, she doesn't like guys with no sense" Geshu Lin said, his arm wrapped around the boyfriend's neck, earning a nod from the boy who was awkwardly smiling at him.

"And don't forget to tell us everything you're doing with her, that includes where you are going, what you are eating, why are you going out with her, and when will you pick her up and drop her, don't leave any details either" Jiyan added, his arms crossed.

This continued on for an hour before they heard you calling for them, noticing that they haven't been around the house for a while.

And this is the nicest behavior the two gave towards the boyfriend, just know, if things ever goes south, the poor boy would definitely face his consequences if anything happened to their daughter.

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A/N: Hope this scenario was good enough! Ty for the request! 👐👐

#wuthering waves #wuwa #jiyan #wuwa jiyan #geshu lin #wuwa geshu lin #wuthering waves fluff #wuwa fluff #wuthering waves headcanons #wuthering waves x you #wuthering waves x reader #geshu lin x reader #jiyan x reader #jiyan x you

[purple-obsidian]

Would you write for AK Jason? I like him mean. Like him and you are arguing and he gets all pissed off and makes you cry but it ends in angry sex.

say it back (18+, ak jason todd x fem reader) wc 5.5k

⭓ this post contains sexually explicit content and dark themes. it is not suitable for minors. please consider the tags and consume at your own discretion. not an example of a healthy relationship. jason might be kinda ooc here, but hey. it's fanfiction.

"You need to drop your fucking attitude." Jason hisses at you.

"Me? My attitude? I'm just trying to have a conversation, Jason, you're the one acting like-"

"Like what? Hm?" He stalks closer to you, and you take a step back reflexively.

"You're angry." You state simply, staring up at him with sadness in your eyes. "You're angry with me. Still. Aren't you?"

Jason's eyes pierce into your own, searching them for something as he takes a deep breath to calm himself. It takes several tense moments before he finally mutters, "Maybe I am."

"What more do you want from me, Jason? I'm sorry, I'm so sorry that I didn't come looking for you. I didn't know. Bruce told me you were-" Jason growls, and corners you against the wall until your back is pressed up against it.

"Don't fucking talk about him! Don't say his name, I'm sick of thinking about him!"

"Then what do you want me to do? I mourned you, Jason, I grieved for you. I didn't just forget about you. I could never." Tears begin to well up in your eyes. The guilt you feel for what your boyfriend went through is crushing. It haunts you every day. Every time you look at him and see that 'J' carved into his cheek, your self-hatred grows even deeper.

"There's nothing you can do now. What's done is done." His warm breath fans over your face. His eyes are narrowed, staring you down like you're the one who locked him up and tortured him.

"Why am I here, huh? Why do you keep me around if you refuse to forgive me?" You ask him, your voice quivering from grief and exasperation.

"Would you shut the fuck up?" He groans and slams his fist against the brick wall, just inches from your head. Your eyes widen when he does, a jolt of fear running through you, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Jason's never hit you, but ever since he came back, you don't know what to expect from his behavior. He's erratic. Hurting. But at the same time, even more focused and calculating than ever. Its a terrifying combination, honestly.

He looks so much different now. Even though you're both still young, his features are harsher, his face hardened and scarred. You still see traces of the boy you fell in love with. It isn't always obvious, but you catch brief glimpses of the old him here and there. Its enough to keep you around, to remind yourself of how much you love him. Seeing him hurt like this and isolating himself is devastating.

"I don't know if I'm capable of forgiving you." He says between labored breaths. His eyes are dark, filled with a pain he refuses to share. "You left me in there to rot. The things he did to me, the things he made me do-"

"Jay." Your voice breaks, warm tears trailing down your cheeks. "Please, baby, I'm sorry. I failed you. I know I did." You reach out tentatively to caress his cheek, avoiding the scar. "I want to be here for you. I want to help you. But I feel like me being here is making things worse.”

Maybe you’re imagining it, but you catch a flicker of something in his expression. A crack in the hard mask he’s been wearing. “What are you saying?”

“If you hate me so much, maybe I should leave.” You struggle to get the words out. You hate yourself for even suggesting it. But the past few weeks with Jason have been tumultuous at best, and you’re not sure that your presence is actually helping him. If anything, you feel like you trigger him just by existing.

“Leave?” He asks, his face contorting in pain and anger. “You’re going to leave me? Really?”

“Only if that’s- I mean, I don’t know, Jason! I don’t know!” Unable to hold it in anymore, a heavy sob shakes your body, and you look away in shame. He’s still got you pinned against the wall, his arms caging you in and keeping you from turning away. “I just want you to be happy. I don’t think I’m capable of giving you happiness anymore. You won’t talk to me. All you do is yell. I want to be here for you, more than anything. But you won’t let me in. Maybe you’ll be better off without me.” Your voice is hushed and thick with emotion. You don’t want to leave him, now that he’s finally back. You were over the moon when you realized who was behind the Arkham knights mask.

Your best friend. Your lover, back from the dead.

But he hasn’t been the same. And you can’t blame him. He doesn’t go into detail about what happened, but you can see the evidence of his torture on his body. Not that he’s let you get too close.

He referred to you as ‘his girl’ in front of his militia. And now, after Gotham has recovered from the events surrounding his return, his hired men know that you’re to be protected at all costs. But other than a brief kiss upon your initial reunion, Jason hasn’t touched you. Yet he’s kept you close, physically, insisting you stay with him in his hideout. You quit your job, moved out of your apartment, left behind your old life as a law-abiding citizen to devote yourself to him and his cause. But your loyalty has been rewarded with him being emotionally closed-off and bitter towards you. It has you questioning where the two of you stand, and if he even wants you here.

“You’re wrong.” His voice is still harsh as he lowers his head to try and meet your eyes. He's close enough that you're able to smell his scent, a mix between his body wash and his natural musk. It draws you in, but you don't dare lean into him, in fear of fueling his annoyance towards you.

"Then why are you so mean to me?" You hate how weak you sound. You wish you were stronger, but being Jason's emotional punching bag has taken it's toll on you.

"I..." Some of his anger seems to fade, but his eyes are still swimming with turmoil. "I can be nicer."

"That isn't an answer."

Jason swallows hard, and removes his forearms from the wall so he's no longer caging you in. His jaw is clenched as he keeps staring at you and thinking about how to respond.

"I don't know." He finally says. "All I know is that I don't want you to go."

You slip to the side so you're no longer sandwiched between him and the wall, and take a step backwards to distance yourself. "I can't handle much more of this, Jason. It's too much. I can't stand fighting like this. It hurts me."

The look on your face has Jason's pulse quickening. "I'll be nicer." He says again.

"Jas-"

"I mean it." He reaches for your hand, and you need to consciously keep yourself from flinching away. "Just please, don't go."

Your heart aches at his plea. You don't want to leave, of course you'd rather be here. But you're not quite naïve enough to believe him when he say's he'll be nicer. You look down at where your hands are entwined, eyeing the thin silvery scars that litter his hand and wrist. Your mind briefly wanders, wondering what nightmare gave him those. Too thin to be from rope burn. Maybe zip ties. A few more tears pool in your eyes and blur your vision at the mental image of him being restrained in such an inhuman way.

"If you really want me, I'll stay." You whisper,

His eyes light up, but the relief doesn't touch the frown that's seemingly permanently etched onto his strong features. "Come here."

You don't fight the gentle tug on your hand. You let Jason hug you close to him, his heart still beating fast in his chest. You feel the steady rhythm against your cheek when he pulls you close and holds you against him. He's still angry, you can sense it radiating off of him in waves. But he's making a pointed effort to stay calm, which is an improvement.

"I don’t hate you. I love you. You know that, right?" He asks. You get a odd, fluttery feeling in your stomach. Not the same as the feeling you got the first time he told you he loved you. It’s a weird, perverted ghost of the feeling, one that makes the ache in your chest even worse.

You don't want to answer him. What would you even say? That you love him too? He already knows that, surely. And he laughed at you last time you told him. In front of several of his men. It was humiliating, and you've avoided saying it ever since.

"Hm? You know that, right?" He tightens his hold on you, his strong arms encouraging you to answer.

"Yeah. I know." You mumble back.

Jason looks down at you, and pulls away far enough to look you in the eyes again. What you would give to know what's going on in his head. It’s like a whirlwind of emotions are playing across his face.

You don't expect him to lean in and capture your lips in a sudden kiss. You freeze for a beat before you kiss him back, not quite relaxing against him, but letting yourself move with him. Still, it feels off. Almost like you're kissing a stranger. He isn't familiar anymore, which only encourages the tears to keep falling hot and slow down your cheeks.

As your tongues dance together, Jason begins to explore your body, warm hands running up and down your back. You wouldn't describe his touch as gentle, but he moves slowly and deliberately, finally resting on your ass and kneading your fat with his strong hands.

Is this his idea of 'being nicer'? You wonder to yourself. But you don't stop him. He's the only man you've ever loved, and when you thought he was dead, you missed his touch more than anything. Craved it. And you still do, even though you're more wary of him now. If you were thinking clearly, you'd probably stop his hand from sneaking down the front of your pants, and tell him that you should both take a breather and calm down. But he's left you so desperate for any speck of affection that you can't bring yourself to turn him away.

His hands are warm against your skin, but goosebumps still prickle your skin from the contact. He slips his hand in your underwear, not bothering to take his time. The sudden feeling of his rough fingers against your labia has you whimpering into his mouth. Jason rubs firm circles over your neglected clit as he breaks the kiss. "Yeah, you know?" He says back in a mocking tone. "Your body knows. She missed me, didn't she?"

The way he calls your cunt 'she' leaves a weird taste in your mouth. You pretend not to notice. "Of course I missed you." You say back to him. You grip his forearm gently and caress his skin with your thumb, feeling his muscles move and flex as he pleasures you, while your other arm grips his shoulder to steady your body. It's hard to relax with all the pent up tension you have inside. But you focus on his fingers, and how good it feels to be touched by your boyfriend again after so long.

"How quick did you move on. Hm?" His deep voice almost sounds like it's rumbling as asks. "How many people have you fucked since I disappeared?"

His question feels like a daggar to your heart. Maybe he really doesn't know, doesn't understand how hard his 'death' hit you. You haven't spoken about it much to him, since he obviously suffered much worse than you did while you were apart. It would feel insensitive to open up about the deep depression you fell into, one that your friends and even Dick tried and failed to help you out of. It was all you could do to even finish high school and get a job. You didn't see anyone else. You barely hung out with anyone. All you did was work and sleep. It was like the joy was sucked from your life the day you lost him.

But Jason doesn't know this. He mistakes your silence for shame, and he uses his other hand to cup your chin and force you to look at him as his fingers slowly warm you up. "What's wrong? Lost count?" The bitterness and mistrust are second nature to him now, after enduring Jokers sick mind games.

"No one... I promise." You lip trembles as the pleasurable sensations build between your legs. You grow wetter under his touch, even though your heart is heavy with grief.

"S'that right?" Jason lets out a dark chuckle and removes his hands from you abruptly. "Take your clothes off."

You can feel your heartbeat in your ears. You hesitate, looking from him to his bed along the opposite wall. Jason brings his fingers to his mouth, and to your horror, he sucks them clean, tasting your arousal without breaking eye contact.

"Do you want this?" He asks, growing annoyed at how you're freezing up.

"Do I want, what?" You say back a little too quickly.

Jason's nostrils flare as he lets out an irritated sigh. "Me. Do you want me to fuck you?"

Your mouth hangs open for a beat before you stammer out a hurried "Yes."

“You sure about that? Doll?” He cocks his head at you and studies your face carefully. The old nickname brings back memories, memories you’re sure are far too sweet in comparison to what’s about to happen.

But it doesn’t stop you from nodding at him all the same. You want him, there’s no denying that. Even if he isn’t the same boy you fell in love with, he’s still Jason. Your Jason.

Breathing heavily, Jason leans down to you so you're face to face once again. "Then take. Your fucking. Clothes. Off. Before I rip them off of you."

You glare at him through teary eyes, not appreciating the threat. But you’re not going to pass up the opportunity for intimacy. Hardening your gaze to match his, you hurridly remove your clothing piece by piece, folding the garments and setting them down neatly on the table beside you.

Jason surprisingly keeps his eyes on yours. Even as you reveal more of your body to him, his focus is on your face, not faltering.

When you step out of your underwear and set them on top of the pile, you finally say “You next.”

A dark chuckle departs Jason’s scarred lips before he replies, “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

Confused, you give him a quizzical look as he stomps over to his bed and kicks off his boots. They land beside him with a thud, making you jump a little.

“Get the fuck over here.”

Jason’s voice echoes across the studio apartment ominously. It’s pissing you off, how he’s still being so brash after just promising to be nicer to you. You shiver and run your hand up and down your arm while you walk over to join him, the cool air against your bare skin making you feel even more vulnerable. It’s clear to you that he’s enjoying this. Sitting on the edge of his bed, still almost fully clothed, finally letting himself drink in the sight of your naked body as you approach him.

“You’ve changed.” He comments after a few moments of tense silence. And he isn’t wrong. You’ve matured in the time he was gone, you’re a bit taller, your hair is longer, looking less like a teenager and more like a woman. But the changes in your body are subtle compared to his. Jason is at least 6 inches taller than what you remember. He’s put on a lot of muscle, and his features are sharper. Harsher, even. His face is different. Even ignoring the scars, there’s a new depth to him that’s hard to pinpoint.

You wonder how much of his transformation is due to just growing up, like you, and how much of it is from the trauma he experienced. Surely, being malnourished and tortured as a teenager would stunt a persons growth. But the man in front of you is anything but stunted. He’s massive. Again, your mind wonders about the details of his absence, about how long he took to recover from his torture before returning as the Arkham Knight.

“You just gunna stand there and gawk at me, or are you going to help me out?”

“Sorry.” You mutter hastily, embarrassed to be caught zoning out. You focus on him again, and realize he has his pants unzipped and his cock in his hand, stroking it with lust-clouded eyes. It takes a good deal of effort to hide the shock on your face from the sight as heat rushes between your legs. Your cheeks turn red, and you place your hand on his knee to steady yourself before you kneel in front of him. “You’ve changed too.”

Jasons pupils dilate when you place your hand over his own, taking over for him and stroking him lightly. He is already hard as a rock, his veins bulging under your touch.

“Way to state the obvious.” He leans back casually and uses his hands to prop himself up against the bed. Using both of your hands now, you jerk him off carefully, hoping he doesn’t notice the trembling in your fingers. “That’s it… shiiit, spit on it, baby, can you do that for me?”

With nervous excitement you obey his request, gathering some saliva with your tongue and letting it drip from your mouth down onto his shaft. His cock is feverish to the touch. The groan that rumbles in his chest as you spread your spit over him triggers emotions you haven't felt in a long time.

“Fuck yes, nice and sloppy for me, shit.”

You want to tug his pants down his legs to give yourself better access, but your instincts are telling you it’s a bad idea. Even as you became more aroused from his reactions, you still maintain a strong sense of unease, like he could snap at you without a moments notice.

When you peer up at his face, his eyes are closed, and some of the anger and tension he was holding onto is less apparent now. It gives you a spark of excitement, pride, even, that you’re finally able to provide him some peace.

His expression gives you enough confidence to lean your head down and take him in your mouth. You start with a soft kiss against his tip, then you swirl your tongue around it slowly, trying to gauge his reaction.

“M’not in the mood for teasing, doll.” Jason groans. “Better take a deep breath.”

That is all the warning he gives you before his hand grips the back of your head and pushes your mouth down onto him. You gag a little at the sudden intrusion before you remember to relax your throat to allow him fully in.

Another deep moan fills your ears when Jason feels you gag around him. Your eyes water as your nose brushes against the dark hair at the base of his cock. He’s definitely bigger than the last time you two did this. Or perhaps you’re just out of practice. Whatever the reason, you struggle to suck him off properly. After a few seconds of deep-throating him, pull your mouth away to cough and catch your breath.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.” He growls. "That felt good."

“You’re being a jerk.” You sputter out between coughs. “You said you’d be nicer to me.”

“This is me being nice.” He argues, bringing his hand to his cock to stroke himself again now that you've abandoned your effort. “You don’t want to suck me off? Fine. Get on the bed.”

“It’s not that I-“

“Get on the fucking bed.”

He stands up, and you’re momentarily scared he’s going to drag you. But his grip on your arm isn’t harsh, just a firm guide as he helps you onto the cheap mattress. You lay on your back and settle against the bedding, but Jason promptly flips you over, helping you onto your hands and knees.

You the mattress creek as he positions himself behind you. A quick look over your shoulder results in him gripping your hair and pushing your face into his pillows. "Stay just like that." He warns.

"Seriously? What, y-you're not going to let me look at you? Or kiss you?"

"Do you want me to fuck you or not?" The irritation returning to his gravely voice.

You close your eyes and try to stop your tears. You exhale a deep, steadying breath before you reply, "Yes, Jay, of course I do."

"Then quit complaining." The mattress shifts again as Jason moves behind you, his still clothed legs pressed against your rear. His left hand rests firmly on your waist, and a second later you feel him rub the tip of his cock against your clit. He drags himself up to the entrance of your cunt slowly, them back down again. He languidly repeats this back and fourth several times while he mutters under his breath "Shit... look at you, doll, touched your pussy for 5 seconds and you're already soaked for me." Jason smacks his shaft against your cunt a few times, your body visibly tensing when you feel the tip press against your asshole. "Relax," Jason scoffs, "I know you don't like that shit. You couldn't handle me in there before, there's no way you could take me there now."

Jason's weight shifts forward, pressing his hips into you. It only takes a moment for him to find the give and sheath the tip of his engorged length inside of your cunt. Green eyes stare in awe as he watches himself slowly disappear inside of you, pausing halfway, savoring how warm and wet you feel. He curses when your inner muscles clench and relax in little spasms as you try and accommodate him. "So fucking tight, goddammit, doll, shit, shiiit... feels so good when you do that."

Your eyes roll back at how badly you've missed the feeling him inside of you. This part, this feels familiar. This doesn't feel like a stranger. Your heart fills with relief, a sense of comfort washing over you and helping you to relax.

Jason pushes even further inside when your inner walls lax around his girth. A soft hiss escapes your teeth when his crown kisses your cervix. It's too bad that you miss the grin on his face as he takes in your reaction.

"You really haven't been with anyone else, have you? Tssk." Jason slaps your ass and watches the slight recoil in awe. "I can tell. You held out. You know what that tells me?" His large hands plant themselves on either side of you against the bed. Jason leans down, shifting his weight onto you and forcing you down into the mattress, prone-bone, fully bottoming out inside your tight cunt.

A whimper falls from your throat at the sting of how he stretches you. It creates an ache deep inside of you, deep enough that only he could reach.

"Tells me you knew I was still around. You're a liar."

"W-what?" That sense of ease and comfort is gone just as quick as it came.

Jason says your name in disapproval, "We both know you're loyal to a fault. That's why you're here. That's why you put up with my shit." His clothed chest presses against the soft skin of your back as his hips begin a slow rolling motion, thrusting into you while he brings his lips to your ear, brushing against your earring. "Me dying is the only way you could ever move on from me. But I did die. And you didn't move on. Which means you knew. You knew I was alive. Which is why you didn't betray me, even when Dick was practically throwing himself at you."

His pace increases as he speaks. His words are tainted with an bitter smugness, which makes your stomach churn.

"Jason, Jay, baby, that doesn't make any sense. I really t-thought you were gone-hmmpht!" Jason gives a sharper thrust which interrupts your explanation.

"Then why didn't you move on?" He's asks in a tense whisper.

"I couldn't!" You cry out in exasperation.

"Exactly".

His hips are rolling faster against you now, only pulling out an inch or so before thrusting back in, too greedy to pull out any further. He stays deep and buries himself as far as possible inside your neglected cunt. The friction feels divine, even if the rough cotton of his t-shirt is rubbing against your back instead of his bare chest. You long for skin to skin. The closeness is something you crave, but Jason, for whatever reason, decides to deprive you of it, even though he's balls deep in your guts.

"Fuck off!" You spit out between your shallow pants and moans. "You're being a jerk!"

"Yeah?" His voice strains as his pace picks up even more. The mattress is squeaking softly and bumping up against the wall with each rut of his hips. "I'm a jerk? You think I'm a jerk?"

You moan in frustration and pound your fist against the mattress. It's difficult for you to find the right words to say when his cock is hitting all the right spots inside you. You've dreamt of this, being forced to live with the longing inside of you for a partner you thought you'd never see again. It's everything you've been craving, to be one with him again. But he's souring the intimacy with his smartass mouth.

"I don't wanna fight, Jay." You mutter in response to him. Jason's hand cradles the back of your head and pushes it further into the pillows. You're almost ashamed at how it turns you on, being crushed and handled roughly by him like this.

"Ha, don't believe that for a second." A warm hand snakes down the side of your body and slips around your hips so he has access to your clit. He's still pistoning deep into you, now nipping and biting at your neck as his fingers work your sensitive nub, sandwiched between your body and the mattress. The added stimulation makes you squeeze your thighs together. "C'mon, too late to be shy, doll. Open up f’me." His voice is a gruff rumble in you ear. It sends a chill down you spine and makes your toes curl, clenching around him to alleviate the pool of tension building in your core.

You should have better self control. You should rise above, be better than his antics. But your mind is reeling and trying to reconcile how good he’s making you feel with how irritated you are. So without much thought, you quip back, “Says the man who won't even take his shirt off when he fucks."

“The fuck did you just say?” Jason pinches your clit between his fingers, earning a sharp yelp from you that’s muffled against his pillows. His pace doesn’t falter, but his body tenses as the anger finds him again.

The sting lingers, and you push your thighs together even more, effectively squeezing him out of you somewhat unintentionally.

“No, none of that now, you’re going to let me in.”

A deep inhale blesses your lungs when Jason pushes himself up off of you, leaning back and grabbing your hips to force you on your hands and knees once more. You grip the sheets and steady yourself, unprepared for the harsh smack that stings your ass cheek.

“Ouch!” You whimper, taking a chance to look back at him again. Your lips part to voice your protest, but Jason chooses this moment to impale your body back onto him and fill up your dripping cunt in a single jolt. You swallow the cry that threatens to leave your lips. You feel so full, your eyes flutter when he starts his pace up again, the sound of wet skin smacking against wet skin filling the apartment. He’s going faster now, his fingers almost painful on your hips as the uses your body for release.

“Look at how wet you are, doll, shit.” Jason’s eyes are heavy with desire as the line between lust and anger starts to dissolve. “You know what I think?” He asks through gritted teeth.

You’re hardly in a state to answer him. The friction of his arousal pounding in and out of you, the weight of his heavy balls slapping against your clit, the sound of him straining and losing control, its making it difficult to focus on much else. As your arousal builds, your brain slows down, unable to comprehend anything other than your boyfriends cock filling you to the brim.

“I think you like when I’m mean. Look at how soaked you are right now, dripping onto my bed like a greedy slut.”

A low, depraved moan vibrates in your throat, only further proving his point.

“Ha, that’s right. Fucking… fucking knew it, god- fuck, taking me so good, so fucking good.” Jason moans your name, repeating it as he senses his release getting closer. His fingers dig deeper into the flesh of your hips, hard enough that you’re sure you’ll have bruises tomorrow.

“Fucking love this, I… I… dammit, I love you, doll. I love you so much.” Jason's filter is gone. He’s lost in the feeling of your soft pussy squeezing him, the wet sounds of your sex bringing him to the brink.

Each hard thrust of his hips has your body recoiling. Your chest falls down to the bed, hands gripping the pillow for dear life as the vigilante relentlessly pounds into you.

“I said... I love you, bitch.” His voice actually wavers slightly at the repeated admission, his emotions peaking and threatening to spill out.

You try to respond to him, you really do. But Jason fucks the air right out of your lungs, moving at a bruising pace, ramming himself so deep in your body that your vision is blurry and nothing even close to a real word has a chance at leaving your lips. You're breathless and cock drunk as he abuses that soft spot inside of you, building up your pleasure to an unbearable level. You're close. And so is he. You tremble and pant as your orgasm hits you hard, a warm fuzzy sensation radiating between your legs where your bodies meet, more of your slick splattering Jason's thighs in droplets from how hard he's fucking you. The sensation of your pussy convulsing around his hard length is the final push he needs.

You attempt to muffle the fragmented scream that falls from your mouth at his last few brutal thrusts. Jason curses, his breath catching as his balls tighten and release his load into you, mixing with your own fluids to create a sticky mess that oozes out around his cock. His hips finally slow, giving a few more gentle pumps as he rides his high. His labored breathing is accompanied by more curses and soft groans. You stay still, reeling from your own release, your mind still fuzzy and not thinking clearly.

Jason leans forward, putting his weight one hand while the other reaches for your flushed face, reaching around to grip your chin firmly. Following his lead, you let him turn your head to finally look back at him. The anger is still there. You're not sure if it will ever go away. But there is a vulnerability in his eyes that wasn't there before. He's still inside of you, hunched over your body, flushed face only inches from yours.

"Say it back."

Your eyes widen at how broken he sounds. It takes a few seconds before you can get your mouth to move, but as soon as you've gathered yourself you respond, you say "I love you, Jason" with as much tenderness as you can muster.

He nods, eyes narrowing, before finally sitting up and removing himself from you. "Good." He mumbles, moving until he's sitting on the edge of the bed and sighing. "Remember that next time you threaten to leave."

"It... it wasn't a threat." You explain, but you're so breathless and fucked-out that you're not sure if he hears you. Relaxing onto the bed, you lay on your side to look at him with worry. The emotions inside of you are tumultuous, confusing you even further as you try and decide if this was progress or not.

"I keep you around because you belong here. With me." Jason stands up, avoiding your anxious gaze and keeping his back to you. "Don't fucking forget it." His feat thud against the floor as he walks over to the bathroom, disappearing and closing the door behind him with a slam.

⭓ masterlist ⭓

please don’t steal my work. don't upload it to another site, use it to train ai, or claim it as your own.

#purple-obsidian #18+ content #ooc jason todd #tw: toxic relationships #tw: angst #tw: referenced torture #angry sex #past trauma #probably new trauma too #traumatized jason todd #ak jason todd x reader #arkham knight x reader #ak jason todd smut #arkham knight smut #ak jason todd x you #arkham knight x you #dc smut #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #angst #angst angst angst #sid answers #i may have went overboard #thanks for the ask! #batman: arkham knight

[sickslimez]

STILL IN LOVE! #8 — TOJI FUSHIGURO

SYNOPSIS...after still messing around with your ex husband, you began to wonder if you’re still in love with him after finding out about his new girlfriend…

INFO...ex husband!toji x fem!reader, reader & toji have two kids, megumi is readers bio son, jealousy, smut, angst, arguments, alcohol, drinking problem, family problems, arguing in front of kids, toxic behaviors, crying, mentions of divorce

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

“Fuck,” Toji grunted before letting out a deep sigh, sweat dripping off his skin as he placed the weights down on the floor. He looked around the room, glancing outside the window.

“That was three more than the last time,” Gojo spoke with a smirk, leaning up against the wall. He took a sip from his water bottle before speaking again, “who’re you tryna impress?” He teased.

“No one. Just tryna get back into the gym.” Toji grabbed his water off of the floor along with his towel, wiping the sweat from his face. Gojo causally walked over towards Toji, standing over him with his arms folded. “May I help you?” Toji glared at the white haired man. As good of a friend gojo was to Toji, he was also very annoying at times, which eventually he had to get used to.

“You never told me how your talk with y/n went? How is she anyway? Single? Not single? Just wanna know when I can make my move.” Gojo quirked a brow, clearly trying to get a reaction from his friend.

“Very funny. She’s doing just fine.” Toji stood from his seat, pushing past Gojo and walking out of his gym room towards the kitchen to grab a small snack. Gojo trailed right behind him, laughing.

“And?” Gojo snatched the box of granola bars from Toji’s hand, slamming them on the counter as he waited for more of a response. “Come on man, I want the details!”

Toji rolled his eyes with the shake of his head, snatching back the box. “We talked about us as parents and our kids. That’s it. What more do you wanna hear?” The crinkling sound of a wrapper filled the silent kitchen.

“That’s it?” Gojo’s brows furrowed, genuinely confused. Toji nodded in response, chewing on his food. “You two didnt have sex?” Gojo questioned, eyebrows now raised in surprise. “Not even a kiss?”

“Nothin. Just a hug and a see you later,” Toji explained.

“Holy shit! You two are actually over. Wow, I never thought I’d see this day come,” Gojo scoffed, grabbing a granola bar from the box. “Have you met or seen her new man?”

Toji shrugged. “No, not really. I’ve seen him, but I haven’t properly talked to him. Don’t think I want to. I want her to be happy, she deserves it. I just can’t stand seeing her happy with someone else. Is that wrong of me? I still get jealous, possessive. But it’s no longer my place to say anything.”

“Who are you and what did you do with Toji?” Gojo had a scowl on his face. Toji let out an airy laugh, shaking his head at him. “It’s weird seeing you all…mature.” Gojo shivered before taking another bite of his granola bar.

“I know. I’m still getting used to it myself.” Not a second goes by where you’re not on Toji’s mind. He thinks about what you’re doing, how you’re doing. He wants to text you, see you, hear your voice, touch you again. He hates that it has to be this way now, but it’s for you, for your family.

Though he has these thoughts in the back of his head, imagining you forgetting about him, acting like he doesn’t exist anymore, you getting remarried to someone that isn’t him. He’s scared of fully losing you, losing his family. You and the kids are the only thing keeping him together, giving him hope that things we maybe work out in the future. But every now and then, he sees those flowers on your table, the kiss your shared with him, the smile on your face when you hugged him. It haunts Toji.

“I forgot to ask, how’d your talk with Toji go?” Kento questioned, his arms snaking around your waist as you wiped your makeup off in the bathroom mirror. He peppered kisses down your neck as he waited for your response.

A smile crept on your face before speaking, “it went well actually. No argument. He was actually very understanding.” You softly smiled, continuing to wipe the makeup off. Of course you wouldn’t mention how Toji practically told you he was still in love with you, held you in his arms while you cried into his chest. It still felt like you smell his cologne in your nose each time you took a deep breath.

“Well, that’s good, right? Now you won’t have to deal with him anymore,” Kento chuckled, pulling away from you. Your brows furrowed at his comment, something in the way he said it didn’t sit right with you, but you decided to ignore it. “He seems like a pretty shitty person, but who am I to judge. I’m just glad you’re doing better, sweetheart.”

You turned around to face the blonde haired man with a puzzled look on your face. “Yeah, who are you to judge?” You asked, tossing your makeup wipe down on the bathroom counter. “Me and Toji may have not had the best relationship towards the end and we may not agree on some things, but I do not need you coming up in here and bashing my children’s father to my face.”

“Woah, woah, calm down, I didn’t mean it like that, okay? I’m sorry, it just came out wrong.” Kento grabbed onto your hands, rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles. “I just seen how much he’s put you through and I don’t like it.” You pulled your hands from his, leaning Nanami with a slightly shocked expression.

“That is not how you meant it. Calling him a shitty person? Really? He’s a good dad, takes care of his kids, he cares about the people in his life, Kento.” You started to get defensive. Toji had his bad moments, every one does, and your relationship showed that side of him, but you also saw the best of him too. You knew deep down Toji was actually someone trustworthy, a good person at heart.

“Yeah, like the way he cared about you towards the end of your marriage?” Kento questioned.

You stared at him, unable to form words, trying to process the ones that just came out of his mouth. “What did you just say?”

Kento stepped closer towards you, realizing what had just slipped from his mouth, an apologetic look on his face when he saw the saddened look in your eyes. “I’m sorry, I—”

“You have no fucking right to talk about my marriage with him. Just because I told you what happened doesn’t mean you know the whole story, you understand? He was my husband, he’s the father of my kids! How fucking dare you? Get the hell out of my house.” Anger lined your tone. You never thought that someone like Nanami would ever judge someone’s character, let alone, speak about them in such an ill manner. He seemed understanding, open to the whole situation, even offered you advice—which you took.

“Y/n, I didn’t mean to upset you. Forgive me. You’re right, it isn’t my place to speak about your marriage. I just thought—”

“Let me make this clear again…get out of my house, please.” You sharply inhaled, eyes fluttering shut as you tried to control your anger. And to think you were going to have a nice night while the kids were at Shoko’s and you had the house to yourself. You stood there looking at the tiles of the bathroom floor, Nanami stepping out of the room to grab his things. A shaky breath rattled through your body as tears began forming in your eyes, but just as quickly as they came you wiped them away even faster.

The front door shut, leaving you in complete silence.

Toji rubbed the towel over his wet hair, sweats hanging low on his waist as he walked into the living room to settle down for the day. He grabbed the remote, turning on the tv to find an interesting moving to watch before bed, choosing between horror or thriller. “This is same shit as the other one,” he spoke to himself, sucking his teeth.

Toji’s phone began vibrating as he clicked through the movie selections, not bothering to look as he picked it up. “What do you want, Gojo?” Toji asked with an unenthusiastic tone.

“Toji,” you sniffled. He immediately sat up, eyes going wide at the sound of your voice.

“Y/n? What’s wrong? Are you okay? The kids okay?” He asked with panic, standing to his feet.

“The kids…the kids are fine, they’re with Shoko.” You could barely talk, trying to control your emotions.

“What’s wrong, mama?” Toji questioned, walking over to the front door to slip on his shoes. “What happened? Talk to me.” He opened his front door, walking to his car, unlocking it.

“Can you just come over? Please?” You asked.

“I’m already on my way, okay? Stay on the phone,” he demanded. The sound of your cries made Toji fill with worry. You wouldn’t tell him what was wrong or what was going on, but he’s never driven anywhere else faster before. “I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay.” You nodded as if he could see you.

Toji didn’t even turn his lights or tv off. Hell, he can’t even remember if he locked his front door. But at this point he didn’t give a damn. All he knew was that you needed him right now. He wasn’t going to leave you like he did all those times before. “I’m around the corner, be at the door.” Toji hung up the phone as he turned down your street, slowly breaking as he pulled up to your house. He noticed how there was only your car in the driveway.

He saw your front door open, the light from the house illuminating your figure as you stood on the steps. Toji quickly got out of the car, rushing towards you. He could hear you crying the closer he got. You reached towards him with open arms, Toji took you in his, nearly out of breath. “Mama, what’s wrong? What happened?” He asked, soothingly rubbing your back.

“I’m sorry for calling so late,” you sobbed.

“No, no, shh, come on, let’s go inside.” He noticed how you were only in your nightgown in the cold. Helping you into the house, he locked the front door behind him. He stood there with you in his arms, embracing you, comforting you as you cried. “I’m here, baby,” he said softly.

“I just…we got into a fight…and I started drinking and I—I can’t stop crying. I needed you,” you explained, tears rolling down your cheeks. Toji could faintly smell the alcohol on your breath as you spoke. Toji wasn’t going to intrude on your business when it came to your new relationship, but if he had to guess, the argument was pretty recent.

“He didn’t touch you or anything, right?” Toji sternly asked. You immediately shook your head no. A weight of relief lifted off of his shoulders at your answer.

“I’m sorry for calling you so late, Toji. You didn’t have to come I was—”

“I don’t care about that, okay? I don’t want you to be alone while you’re feeling like this. Not anymore. Let’s go.” He guided you towards your bedroom, the plush carpet under your feet as he sat you down on the bed. You finally stopped crying, wiping the tears off of your face as you sat there to collect your thoughts. “I’ll be back.” Toji felt a tug on his hand as he went to step away, looking back to see you staring up at him.

“Stay.” It almost looked like you were begging him. Is this what you were like all those years ago? How he just ignored you? How could he do something like that to you? You squeezed his hand tighter as you crawled into the bed, pulling him with you. Toji reluctantly followed, but still gave in. His arms wrapped your body, pulling the blankets over you as you snuggled into him. You inhaled his scent, hugging onto him like you never wanted to let go. “Don’t go,” you mumbled against him.

His fingers ran over your skin. “I won’t, mama. I’ll be right here when you wake up.” He kissed the top of your head. Toji laid there as you fell asleep his arms, bedroom light still on, his hair still damp from his shower. He doesn’t know what to think right now, lost in his head. Was this real? Or were you just drunk? He doesn’t want to think about it too much, but yet he does. Will you hate him when you wake up? Scold him, yell at him? God, he hopes not.

“I love you, Toji.” Those three words made his heart sank, his movements came to a halt.

She’s drunk. She’s doesn’t mean that. Don’t read too much into it. This will never happen again. It isn’t real.

It takes everything in him not to say those three words back. He doesn’t want to give into something that he knows won’t even be a second thought to you the moment you open your eyes again. His jaw clenched as he stared at your bedroom wall. “Just sleep, baby,” he quietly spoke. He slumped the lump in his throat, continuing to trace patterns on your skin.

series masterlist

tag list (comment to be added):

@sweetpo1son @lovebittenbyevans @ryumurin @he4rts444mi @cherrypieyourface @lemonintrovert01 @ladysi0 @avanly @chilichopsticks @tananaxx @akusrider @irlbungee @my-anime-garden @hnm-mika @antiholdinghandsclub @yharnam-prophet @crankyarchives @nnnancyr @kenqki @ebiharachan @dollcest @whoreforjjkmen @yoyio90 @jaegergirl @r0seandth0rns @blankwashed @ittomain1 @3rdmonday @5seos @weird0o0 @1-800-choke-that-ho @s-j320 @viisgrave @mayajadewrites @jhiyoon @fisherman-boat @mochimoee @cheridrwyy @olanii1019 @vi-ola666 @emmaperdoswife @sucrose-fqn @rhyies-pieces @tojislittleprincesss @sashadonat @ruixrei @zara-zara11 @paper--angel @khyok @ilyanadelarosa @zxnxy @esmedelacroix

#☆—sickslimez #anime #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji fushiguro x you #toji x y/n #toji fushiguro x reader #toji angst #toji fushiguro angst #toji x reader angst #toji fushiguro x reader angst #toji x you #toji fushiguro x y/n #toji #jjk x y/n #jjk x reader angst #jjk angst #jjk x you #toji fanfic #jjk fanfic

[thesummerpetrichor]

𝓘 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓘 𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾:

𝒪𝒻𝒻 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑅𝒶𝒸𝑒𝓈

Javier Peña x afab!fem!reader

Summary: Its been five months since you started sleeping together, and you're having second thoughts about your "relationship" with Javier. But what does it matter to him? he hasn't even kissed you yet. 🍒 Continuation of “Off to the Races” and “Your Face is Shameless” but can be read alone.

Warnings: 18+ Only Minors DNI you will be blocked. Mentions of DEA, thicc age gap [Javi is in his 40s reader is in her early 20s], mentions of anxiety, major angst, situationship, guilt, unrequited love, self loathing, kissing [they did it!], Javier is emotionally unavailable, petnames, major dom/sub dynamic [dd/lg ish vibes], mean!Javi then soft!dom!Javi, degradation, dumbification, minor objectification, major size kink [Javi is bigger than and can lift reader], praise kink [finally some good girl action], daddy kink, choking, pussy pronouns, finger sucking, oral [f receiving], unprotected P in V [ do better!!]. Let me know if i missed anything 🫶

Word count: 5.4K

A/N: Hello!! I'm back!! thought it would be fitting to revisit these two post hiatus. Sorry in advance for the emotional torture that is about to ensue, but I couldn't help myself. Big thank you to @pixelsandothernonsense for being a big supporter of these two and fuelling their return on the blog time and time again. Lotsa plot, lotsa porn– as always. Hope you enjoy, nasties. Mwah

🍒Off to the races 🍒Your face is shameless 🍒Masterlist

You wanted it to be easy but it’s difficult. You wanted it to be over, but it was not. 

While Colombia seemed to be all fun and games at first sight, the longer you remained stuck in the American embassy’s city centre building the more you longed for home. 

Your research was hitting a roadblock, and things were hard. Funding was running out, and your professors were running away. Better jobs, better prospects. But your degree was the least cause for your troubles. 

You were smart. You were controlled. You didn’t know what you were thinking when you got yourself involved with Javier Peña. It seemed fun at the moment- fooling around, messing with a man double your age and four times more qualified. Trying to wrangle his true intentions out from under his furrowed brow and frown. 

Looking back you felt stupid. Embarrassed. A little ashamed of what you had become. How you let him treat you. 

He used you like a walking sex doll. Didn’t give you one look afterwards. Maybe a pat on the back but somehow that was more insulting. He had never kissed you. And there you were, fixing your makeup in the office bathroom after an evening under his desk had ruined it. 

It had been five months since the first time he'd bent you over his desk but you were only half way through your trip. Five more months seemed too long to bear. It made you sick. 

You glanced at yourself in the mirror. You looked tired, and sleepy and your clothes weren’t crisp as usual. You felt a little bit like the tissue you’d just dabbed against your cheek. A little flimsy and a little dirty. A little used, perhaps. 

It felt a little worse knowing it was all your doing. You weren’t expecting a man like Javier to change. Objectively, it wasn’t possible. But you still asked for more. For him to use and then forget about you. You wanted to leave. You wished he’d never seen this side of you. Frankly you wished you hadn’t either. 

Because you were smart and funny and interesting and could talk about all sorts of things. You liked music and books and movies and trying new food. But he’d never seen you that way. He never would. 

You hadn’t spoken to him once. Not about anything that wasn’t strictly utilitarian. Especially not after he started fucking you. It was far too awkward and far too intimate. 

For him. 

Your feelings flip flopped every day, from the casualty of the affair seeming rather appealing, to it making your chest ache. And yet you couldn’t seem to help yourself, unable to understand not only what this thing you had going on with Agent Peña was, but why you couldn't seem to stop. 

Five months camping out in the office and you hadn’t missed a single day. No matter how bad the hurt in your chest you rolled out of bed and reminded yourself of why you were where you were. It worked. It hurt, but it worked. 

But after five months it seemed like getting out of bed was suddenly impossible one morning and you thought it best to stay home. You got a few calls. One from Fiestl and Van Ness. Connie Murphy sent Steve over with soup when she heard you weren’t feeling well. 

No news from Javi Peña. 

You slept most of the day. With your computer shut and materials put away. You didn’t want to think about it. You fixed yourself dinner- instant noodles, and headed to bed once again. 

You thought it was temporary but the excruciating pain only lingered and carried you on to another day confined to the four walls of your bedroom. 

It was a bad idea- ignoring your work for as long as you did. You should have known that you wouldn’t be able to put it on the back burner- considering the neurosis surrounding your work, the fact you took a two day break was impressive. It wasn’t long before your anxiety was eating away at you, an impending deadline hanging over your head and reminding you the world didn't care about your little pity party. 

Stupid as it was, you found yourself crossing the street at the witching hour of 23:00- clad in the soft cotton dress you forced yourself into earlier that evening. The friday night had persuaded everyone out of the office, and you weren’t surprised when you found the top floor of the embassy building cold and empty. 

You were glad, and perhaps it was the only way you could stomach being there– alone. 

Your desk was exactly how you’d left it a couple of days ago- your books piled in one corner, papers thrown all over the place. It was disorganised and untidy– very unlike you. You swallowed a lump in your throat as you began to sort things out, a feeling of complete exhaustion and defeat threatening to force you into your office chair. You glanced over at Javier’s office, signs he was out for the week prompting the slight relaxation of your shoulders. 

When you finally sat down to get to work, your eyes couldn't help but flutter shut every few moments, the screen of your computer zoning in and out of your vision every now and then. The words seemed to escape you, four lines on your document all you could manage before you were pressing your forehead against the wood of your desk. 

After spending the past two days sleeping somehow all you wanted to do was climb right back into bed. 

Music, surely that would help! Or at least you thought, to no avail, a whole album played once, yet you could only manage another paragraph. Turns out burnout was real.. and it had decided now was the best time to get you. But you weren’t ready to pack up and banish yourself to your studio apartment just yet. So you upped the volume, and sat up just a little bit straighter in your chair, and got back to work. 

Something about the loneliness of working in that drab, white, characterless office was especially miserable. So miserable in fact it was almost comforting, it was so miserable it was funny. It wasn't long before you were sitting completely straight in that sad, uncomfortable office chair, laughing at yourself with a mixture of exhaustion and disbelief. You were stupid, and acted silly, and had all these big feelings, but what did it matter? It was diabolical; the capacity Javier had for ruining your life, but soon enough you’d be out of here and one day you’d probably be laughing at the whole ordeal. 

It was exhausting, but what could you do? The words came just a little bit easier from that point, and you felt yourself accept defeat and immersed yourself in your paper. At the end of the day you couldn’t control how he felt about you- you just had to take it or leave it. Not everything is that deep, you rolled your eyes at yourself, but you knew truthfully the lack of his care and affection was more than a little sting. You decided you were better off defining the “relationship” for yourself, and maybe showing a little bit more restraint. Who said everything had to be that serious, maybe you should've taken a page out of Javier’s book! 

Yes that was it, not everything was that serious, was it?

You really wished you’d had the foresight to gauge the stupidity of trying to drown out your surroundings in a public space in the middle of the night. Sure, no external threat could get you inside the excessively secure embassy building, but what did that mean when the real threat to your sanity was the DEA attache. 

Truth be told, you'd have jumped in fear if anyone had tapped their fingers on your computer screen, but when Javier rounded your desk with a raised brow and waved his hand in front of your computer, you were particularly startled. 

“The hell are you doing here?” 

Any other time you’d probably met him with a snappy reply, something to get him going, maybe rile him up enough till he was pressing your face against your papers and fucking you from the back. You wished you could have given him that response that day, but you were so completely out of yourself, you settled for a shrug and a normal “trying to finish this section”. 

“That why you disappeared these past two days?”

“I wish.. probably would have been done by now.” His brows kit, somewhat confused and just noticing your tired, puffy eyes now that he was closer. 

“When’s it due.” he leaned to sit on your table , and traced your features with his fingers. You felt your eyes flutter shut as the tip of his index ran along the bridge of your nose, and feared your new policy was at risk of being thrown right out of the window at his attention. Sighing, you leaned into his touch. Unhappy, but unable to resist it. “Next week.”

He pitched your damp cheeks between his fingers, gently shaking your head from side to side. “You've got time.” 

You hummed and took a moment to look up at him- yellow table lamp doing his golden features all sorts of favours, ones that he didn't even need to begin with if you were being honest.The weight of his hand, the roughness of his skin against yours had a soft sigh escaping your lips. 

Javier's hand moved slowly, almost hesitantly, to the back of your neck, and he gently guided you to stand. Your legs felt weak, but you helped yourself up long enough to watch him rise beside you, stepping closer. He stepped around you, positioning himself between yourself and the chair, his breath warm against your ear. 

"Sit," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. His hand moved to the back of your neck again, this time pulling you down onto his lap. The gesture was possessive, not tender. 

You obeyed, lowering yourself onto him,  your legs on either side of his waist, dangling off the seat. Javier's hands rested on your waist momentarily, heavy and harsh, before drifting lower to your hips, pulling you further into his lap till you could feel his bulge swell against you. You felt yourself get wet, he lifted your hips and then pulled you back down against him, allowing you the slight relief of the friction as you felt yourself embarrassingly throb against him. 

The proximity was suffocating, his scent—cigarettes, and aftershave. He leaned closer, and for a moment, in your delusion, you thought he might kiss you. Instead his fingers squeezed around your throat, breath fanning your lips. “You want to be daddy’s good girl, dontch’ya?” his voice was low, and biting, and you knew you were in for it, for avoiding him, when he tightened his grip at your lack of answer. 

Slick pooled in your panties, and he let you press your hot core against him, undoubtedly able to feel how easily he could unravel you. You shifted your gaze up at the ceiling to avoid his own. 

You squeaked out a feeble “yes”, already delirious. “Then why the fuck, did you think you could disappear without telling me?” He reached for the string that held together the top of your dress, rather aggressively tugging it undone, watching as it unravelled and revealed the soft cotton of your lingerie. “Busy” you whined when traced your skin with his pointer finger, palm coming to squeeze at your breast and then pull your bra aside. 

“Not looking too busy now, are ya?” your nipple pebbled under his palm, his hot breath fanning against your skin as he trailed open mouth kisses along your neck. You whimpered, reaching to tangle your fingers in Javier’s hair. Surprisingly, he let you tug on his locks, allowing you to ground yourself as he sucked your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around your bud. He came up to nip at your jaw and you whimpered  a soft “M’ sorry”. 

“What was that?” Javier rolled his eyes and growled in your ear, grazing your earlobe with his teeth, and pinching the flesh of your thighs, prompting you to speak up. And speak up you did, heat seeping into your panties at his tone and words. He didn’t respond to you, just hummed his assent and pulled you harder against him. 

His hands found the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up and into his arms. You wrapped your legs around him and his big arms crossed under you to support your weight. Continuing to kiss along your neck he plopped you on the table, but you couldn’t lie, you much preferred being carried so gently in his hold. Thank god the desk had been cleared– giving him enough room to push you back against it. You didn't really want to unwrap your legs from around him, but he grunted disapprovingly before prying your legs from his waist. Your heart jumped as he took a seat on your dingy rolly chair, his large palms lifting your legs by your calves till your feet were planted on his thighs. You propped yourself up on your elbows. 

Javier's eyes caught sight of your untied shoelace, a small hazard in the midst of your hurried night. As usual, without a word, he leaned down, fingers deftly working to tie the lace in a swift, fluid motion, securing the bow with a final, firm tug, patting the top of your shoe before returning to the task at hand. 

His eyes were hungry like they always were, deep brown, alluring, the only readable emotion in them- lust. Those large palms parted your knees, making space for you between them. A tingle ran up your spine when he brushed the tips of his fingers against the inside of your thigh, dragging them along your skin till he was toying with the hem of your panties. He shifted forward in the chair, meeting your eyes as he planted a kiss on your calf, and then hoisted your legs up on his shoulders. 

Javier took a moment to admire you, letting his rough hands roam under your skirt. You always wondered what those hands were doing; how they wrapped around his gun when he ran out of the office with it, how small they made the cigarette he was smoking look. You watched him grab, and hold, and type from across your desk when he hadn’t fucked you in a day or two, imagined those hands grabbing at your flesh and wrapping around your throat. You imagined him pumping his fingers in and out your pussy with your own hands between your legs in the middle of the night- unable to go mere days without him fucking you, salivating at the thought of those hands wrapped around his thick cock, wondering if he too couldn’t go without your touch. 

Lost in your thoughts you shuddered when you felt him drag his tongue up the cut of your slit, the already moist fabric of your panties sticking to your skin as he nudged your clit with his nose. Your head fell back involuntarily, and you felt your arms ache as you continued to struggle to hold yourself up on your elbows. Seemingly, he had decided that day he wasn’t going to make you work for it- you looked like you were working far too much already. 

“Look at me.” Javier sharply instructed from between your legs. Nipping the inside of your right thigh till you yelped in his hold. You weren't going to last very long at the sight of him, eyes glancing up at you as his mouth ghosted over your soaked pussy. You watched intently as his fingers pulled your panties aside, softly grazing your swollen flesh in a way that had you pulling your lip between your teeth to contain the pornographic moan that threatened to spill from your mouth and alert the security guard across the hall. 

Your leg twitched on his shoulder as he licked a long, firm stripe up your aching pussy. Both your eyes fluttered shut as his tongue softly explored your folds. The sight of Javier between your legs was enough to send you over the edge, one that would live in your head for a very long time. 

You struggled to hold his eyes with your own when he licked at your entrance, increasing his pace ever so slightly before he was softly sucking your clit into his mouth. Letting yourself lean back against the table you reached to continue to tangle your fingers in his hair, hoping he'd let you have his fluffy locks in your hold. Turns out you were lucky the first time, because as was more common, Javier reminded you of his “no grabbing at daddy” attitude by grasping your hand in his. 

“No grabbin at daddy, babygirl” he murmured against your wetness and you shivered. His fingers engulfed yours, stroking your skin and moving your hands to your chest. His large palm covered yours and squeezed your fingers around your breasts. You moaned, and arched your back against the table up into both your palms as his tongue achingly slipping inside you. 

The feel of his mouth against you was more than perfect, the way he expertly ate you out till you were wiggling your hips against his face, his nose nudging your clit as he fucked you with his tongue. Slow and soft then faster and rough, just how he knew you liked it. 

He seemed to be enjoying the feeling of you just as much,  groaning against your wet cunt everytime you twitched and shuddered against him, the taste of you prompting him only to bury himself deeper between your thighs, pull and grab at your hips, hold you close against him as your chest rose and fell. 

Javier lashed his tongue at your entrance, then plunged it into your slick cunt. You felt your core tighten, and you knew you couldn’t hold on much longer. “Please…” barely able to complete your sentence you squealed when he circled your clit with his tongue. You could feel him grin against the inside of your thigh, and you reached for his hands on your hips to tug at his fingers feebly. 

Making out the sound of his chuckle over your heavy breathing you whined, and then proceeded to melt in his hold when he responded with a rather gentle, yet delayed and somewhat playfully annoyed “You can come for daddy, babygirl.” 

The grip of your fingers on his tightened, and you sighed, finally letting go as Javier worked between your legs. Your cunt clamped down on his tongue as he finished you off, licking you through your orgasm and holding your hips down as you shook and squirmed above him. 

He kissed along your seam gently as you caught your breath, your breath hitching when he pushed two fingers in your still sensitive cunt to gently stroke your walls. He stifled a groan. You looked down between your legs as he withdrew those fingers and began to stand up. “She so fuckin wet for me, hmm?” He rubbed slow, soft circles on your clit, not caring to watch you intently for any giveaway that would instruct him on the perfect rhythm. He already knew what you liked- he didn’t need to bother. “Slutty little pussy achin’ to be fucked… after all these days, aint she?” 

He took a second to get a good look at you as he moved closer between your legs, and you propped yourself back up on your elbows and wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him in. 

“My good little slut” 

Bringing his fingers to your lips he urged them open, pushing in and watching you suck gently on his digits. You shivered at the taste of your own arousal. As always you felt a little fuzzy when he did something like that– letting your eyes droop until he nudged you to release them with a pop. He ran those fingers across your lips, watching you struggle to keep your eyes on him as his hand drifted downwards to wrap swiftly around your neck.  “That's better isn't it?” he pressed his clothed cock against your bare, swollen pussy, your panties surely on the verge of ripping the way they’d been pulled aside. Javier seemed to be thinking along the same lines as you, because in a moment he reached for them and urgently dragged them down your hips, unwrapping himself from your hold and holding your ankles in one hand as the other slid your panties all the way off of you. 

When you whined at the loss of his body against yours he tutted, raising his eyebrows at you in warning. 

He then grabbed your thigh with his hand once again, squeezing it and holding it in place against his waist. You heard the jingle of his belt as he undid it. A rough edge on said belt scraped against your skin, but it was difficult to pay attention to it when you felt him reach between your bodies to tease your dripping slit with his length. 

It was sad to admit, but nothing took the weight of your shoulders much like the feeling of his hard cock sliding against your wet pussy, head bumping your clit till you were shivering and then notching at your entrance. You heard him mutter a strained curse under his breath at the feeling of your cunt sucking him in. Javier didn't waste much time, as much as he seemed to enjoy the sight of you deliriously wiggling your hips under him. 

He leaned down and traced the curve of your jaw with the bridge of his nose, breathing in your scent as he pushed in– slowly and gently. Much slower and gentler than he had ever been before. Your legs tightened around him, hips lifting pathetically as you felt him stretch you open. It had been far too long since you’d had him inside you. 

“Such a good little girl..” His hips snapped towards yours. 

“Aren’t ya?” It was an out of body experience, so overwhelming and dizzying you could almost see yourself in the act. Your brain couldn’t comprehend that tone and that gentleness as is, forget when Javier’s cock dragged deliciously against your aching walls. 

Your elbows caved from under you, letting you fall completely back against your little desk. Your head went to fall back soon after, but Javier had managed to snake his hand behind your neck– cradling your head and shielding it from the hard wooden table. Instinctively, you buried your nose in the collar of his dress shirt. He let you seek respite, palm holding you against his warm body, and pressed a kiss to the nape of your neck. 

Your skin felt like pins and needles, little sparks bounced off your exposed waist and prompted you to wiggle your hips away from him at the intensity of the sensations. “Nah uh” yanking you back in his direction Javier squeezed your hips in his hands, refusing to let you escape the death grip he had on your body, pulling you towards him with every deep, slow, thrust. 

“Silly little thing” He laughed against your lips, so close they brushed against you. You couldn’t help it when your mouth fell slack against his. He took your bottom lip between his teeth. He releases it as your walls clench around him, brows knitting at the feel of your warm, soft cunt around his cock. 

“Mine aren’t ya? Daddy’s good little slut?” Unable to catch hold of anything on the table, your hands flew to his shirt, your fingers twisting the fabric as you gripped it as tightly as you could. He let you pull him towards you, one hand sneaking between your bodies to grab and squeeze at your breast. 

“Then you’re gonna take it like I give it to ya?” You tried to nod, head lulling side to side and mouth hanging open, desperate noises leaving your lips. When your back arched against the table he  pulled you into his chest, letting you wrap your legs around his waist so tightly you felt the leather of his belt cut into your soft skin. 

Eventually he picked up his pace, and you could make out the sound of your pens clattering to the ground as your back moved relentlessly against the desk. The dim grey flood light above you came in and out of your focus, the heat that swelled up inside you hindering your ability to concentrate on absolutely anything.  “Getting all cock drunk on me..” Anything but him. Yet another orgasm stirred in your tummy, your entire body hot and tingling with overwhelm. “There’s my good girl”. 

He pulled you into him with every thrust, his hard length throbbing inside of you. “Just how I like ya’– no thoughts in that head’ve yours.” Your bare chest pressed against his soft shirt, but you longed to feel the heat of his body against your skin. 

“Can't think ‘bout anything but daddy can you?” he managed to laugh, his thick cock dragging against your wet walls in a way that had your mouth falling open in a gasp. “Just daddy, ain't that right?” As usual he grabbed at every part of you he could, hands seeking purchase on any exposed skin. 

He grazed your earlobe with his teeth as he spoke. “Poor baby, going dumb on daddy.” All you could do was whine. “Can’t hear ya..” you whimpered again, strained and hasty “yes”s leaving your mouth at record speed as the tension in your core threatened to burst. 

“S’ how it should be” your dress made it easy for you to slide along the surface of the table as he fucked into your tight, wet heat, railing you as you twitched around him. You struggled to form a broken “daddy” between your lips. 

“Stupid little girl can’t do anything but be daddy’s little sexdoll hmm?” you shook your head, but he grabbed your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed. “‘S okay babylove, s’ how daddy likes ya best” he shook your face gently, “when ya ain't runnin that smart mouth of yours.” 

He grunted and sighs above you, seemingly lost in his own pleasure, not bothering for the first time to make you beg. It was as if the two days you spent apart had him prioritising other things. “Better this way isn’t it, nothin you gotta worry that pretty head about…” you felt your cunt squeeze him. “Not when daddy’s fuckin’ ya’” 

You could tell he was close by the way his thick cock throbbed against your slick walls, the way his Texan accent came through just a little more than it usually did. Your thighs quivered against his waist as the heat continued to pool in your belly. 

You knew he was close when he straightened up again, hands wrapping firmly around your throat as he angled his hips to hit that sweet spot inside you over and over. “C’mon baby, be a good girl and come for daddy” he tightened his grip, thumb reaching up to swipe gently at your slack lips. 

You felt your pussy clench around his cock, finally letting go as you writhed under him. You heard him groan over the ringing in your ears, your own eyes rolling back as your orgasm rolled over you in waves. You gushed around him, your own release prompting his. 

Watching his brows knit as his thrusts got sloppy might have well sent you on a second release, aftershocks making your hips wiggle against his palms as he squeezed them, his cock throbbing inside you before he erupted with a shudder. A string of strained curses escaped his mouth, chest rising and falling rapidly as he rode out his high. 

You laid there, the heat from your exertion slowly dissipating. You felt Javier pull out, his spend trickling down your thighs, and slide your panties back up over your legs. A heaviness tugged at your limbs and made your eyelids droop. Every muscle felt loose, languid, as if all the tension and energy had been drawn out, leaving behind only a deep, satisfying fatigue. 

Javier put his hands on your waist and lifted you off the table, you returned to your habitual silence, this time albeit far more satiated than before. You were dizzy, feeling like a small ghost floating in front of him, engulfed by his towering form. The world around you began to fade, sounds muffling and blurring into an indistinct background hum.

Every blink became slower, your vision narrowing to slits before closing entirely. You let yourself drift into that warm state between sleep and wakefulness, the exhaustion of the week catching up to you in more ways than one, uncaring of the sense that Javier’s eyes had been lingering. You felt him trace the bridge of your nose, reducing any prospects of you actually getting off that desk. 

He fixed your lingerie and tied the bow of your dress back up, one hand returning to stroke your cheek. His other arm came to support your back as it wrapped around you, pulling you towards him. You looked up to find him watching you, with an expression you couldn’t bother to decipher at the moment. 

You couldn’t help but fall into his chest as he stood above you, his arms reaching behind you as he packed your things in your work bag. You felt your eyes flutter shut again, complete exhaustion taking over your weak form. He placed a kiss to your temple, lifting you off the table once and into his hold once again. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, locking securely at the ankles. His hands gripped your thighs firmly, fingers digging into your flesh.

You felt cold again suddenly, and Javier readjusted his arms to hold you with his right while his left rubbed along your shoulders to warm up your skin, prickled with goosebumps. 

Your head rested against his shoulder, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek a comforting, rhythmic lull. You nuzzled deeper into the curve of his neck, tilting your head till your nose was brushing the cut of his jaw. 

Javier shifted slightly, and you could feel the subtle change in his posture as he leaned towards you, and his face came level with yours– you could feel the heat radiating from his skin, a stark contrast to the cool air around you. His hand cradled your cheek. 

With your eyes still closed you felt his lips press gently against yours, so pillowy and soft you barely registered them. He tasted how you’d imagined so many times before– cigarettes, and whiskey. Melting into his touch your hands moved to ball the fabric of his shirt gently in your fist. His lips moved against your’s with a carefulness you couldn’t really understand, but the fact that they were at all was enough. Exhaustion aside, you had a feeling the triviality of the whole ordeal, its comfort and normality seemed expected. And just as quickly as it began, it was over.

Perhaps it had always meant a lot more to you, than it did to him. 

The hand that was cupping your cheek pinched it and then snaked around your waist to help you find your footing on the ground, the same hand coming down to slap your ass as he pushed you towards the door. 

In usual Javier fashion he checked his phone, uninterestedly murmuring a soft “you can start again tomorrow” as you stood in the elevator. He let you lean against him, his palm coming down to pat your head momentarily before it was back to sorting the files in his hands.  You looked up at him, his mind now completely diverted to whatever he had come to collect in the office in the first place, so unbothered by what seemed to transpire between the two of you. 

Perhaps nothing really did. 

You wished his words gave you some motivation, but it was turning out to be really difficult to want to be anything more than his dumb, silly, little girl. 

Who else is gonna put up with me this way?

I need you, I breathe you, I'll never leave you!

They would rue the day I was alone, without you

You're lyin' with your gold chain on

Cigar hangin' from your lips, I said, "Hon'"

"You never looked so beautiful as you do now, my man"

sakjdlakd I'm sorry I just can't let them be happy lmao. Hope you enjoyed this, and let me know what you think. Thank you to everyone who reblogs and comments on my content, you keep me writing. Dividers and banners by @/sardika 🐝✨💗

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[yanderenightmare]

TW: yandere, noncon/dubcon, angst, unwanted pregnancy, blackmail, ish-baby trapping

part one

fem reader

You went cold and forgot how to breathe.

When you got to the kindergarten, they told you his father had already come and collected him early. All looking at you as though you were crazy, assaulting the daycare workers with your hands in a bruising grip, shaking her by her shoulders—demanding she tell you where he took him. 

She spilled the name of some family restaurant down the road and said he’d wanted you to join them there. The poor thing was on the verge of tears when you let go.

Rushing out, you all but ran down the streets before pushing yourself through the doors—cold-sweating and swivel-eyed—in a panic, scanning faces with his name coming out weak under your breath. 

With your vision spinning, you felt faint before you heard it.

“Mommy! Mommy! You’re here! Look! I’m King of the castle!” he shouted, and your peeled eyes snapped to see him up high in a bright red plastic tower.

But before your shoes could hit the soft foam of the playground, you were intercepted by something larger.

“He’s fine,” he said under his breath, catching and stopping you in your beeline, holding you by the waist. “I need to talk to you.”

Something old and instinctive didn’t bother paying him heed—as if forgetting how to speak, you just ignored him in favor of pushing past him, eyes glued to the sight of your son blissfully unaware, playing with other kids with an oblivious smile on his face. But his grip was stronger than your instincts, firm enough to keep you still but not enough to hurt you, even when you tried twisting yourself free.

“Come on,” he urged.

You were about to sneer something, finally looking at his face—that face you hated—but the bark of curse words got held back.

“Look around you. Let’s not cause a scene.” The wild animal within went silent while your eyes flickered around at the surrounding picnic tables where families were having their dinner. “We can talk outside. My assistant will look after him.”

You didn’t feel much inclined to listen, but still, even though it made you hate to fold on his behest—reluctantly, you accepted the sense of what he was saying. Looking back at your son still laughing up in his tower with cinched brows. You didn’t want to scare him when he didn’t know what was going on, even though you felt the need to scream at the very top of your lungs.

You allowed him to lead you outside, but as soon as the fresh air welcomed your rigid state, you were at once whipping around and pushing him away. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” snarling at him. “How fucking dare you?!”

“Calm down. He might still see us,” he hushed, hands raised in halfhearted surrender, casting a nod to the glass walls separating you from the frivolity inside. “Let’s just talk rationally.”

“Rationally?!” you scoffed in a shout, eyes still manic. “You fucking kidnapped my son, you psycho-”

“You wouldn’t answer my texts or calls,” he snubbed. “He’s my son too-”

“Fuck you,” you interrupted to return the favor. “If you fuck with me on this, I swear I’ll ruin you.” You had a finger raised at him, breathing furiously—looking down-right mad—sweaty and disheveled from your run with your face twisted with such a state of frenzy. “I’ll tell everyone how I got him in the first place!”

Despite the threat, he didn’t seem all that fazed. 

“Think about it…” he said calmly, much in contrast to you. “Who do you think people will believe? A teenage mom abusing her son for a paycheck or his estranged father wanting to provide for him?”

You blanched, and before anything else made it out—whether it be more rage or something else, he was already further silencing you.

“Not to mention… the trial would be gruesome, and Junior would have to grow up with it always hanging over his head—is that really what you want?”

You look at him, and you still can't believe it. How could it have turned out like this? You’d been perfect only a month ago before he’d shown up at your apartment.

You thought you’d sent him on his way for good that day, but only now did you realize he had no plans to leave you alone.

“Come, let’s talk in the car. It’s cold, and you’re not dressed,” he ushered, taking your arm again where you stood, stunned and still, trying to wrap your head around his threats. Letting yourself be led into the black vehicle standing perfectly parked in its neat white rectangle.

You both got in the back with enough room to battle your homey sofa nook at home.

“I don’t want this to get ugly,” he started anew—his voice still so irritatingly calm, unfairly so. “I just want to see my son-”

“He’s not yours,” you croaked, feeling the situation slip from your fingers—battling a drumming heart, shifty breaths, and the mean sting of tears welling up in your eyes.

“If you try and keep him from me, I’ll sue for full custody. And given I’m the only one out of us who isn’t a pro-bono case and the only one with any future that isn’t managing a register, I’d say I have a pretty fair shot at winning.”

You can’t keep from bursting out crying then, overwhelmed by the fear of losing the only thing that mattered and the pure disgust of the man who’d given it to you. It felt like everything was tearing—your whole life—crumbling before your eyes.

“Don’t cry,” he soothed, his hand coming to drape your hunched shoulders where you held your tears. “I don’t want to take him away from you…” His attempt did little to comfort you, but the next words had your heart grasping for what little hope they offered. “And I’m not going to either.”

You looked at him through the hurt of swollen eyes, tears still falling while he wiped them away with the course pad of his thumb—rubbing your cheek affectionately. In any other circumstance, you’d surely slap him, but right now, all you could do was listen.

“I’m buying a house,” he revealed, still holding your cheek and gaze. “Fit for a family. Safe neighborhood, good school district, giant backyard.” The list went over your head—it was all too surreal to register. You couldn’t even fathom what he was getting at until, “I want the two of you to come live there with me.”

Stunned, you remained completely silent until the tears dried, and he let go of your face. 

“You don’t have to say anything right now.” He reaches across you and fetches the seatbelt before coming back over you to click it in place. “I’ll go get Junior and drive you home. Just stay here.”

You do as suggested and stay seated as he pops his door open and leaves—feeling all but cemented in place as your thoughts go tumbling around and around as if caught in a rip curl. When Junior jumps in beside you, a farfetched smile is all you can offer. Thankfully, he’s so enamored by a toy he’d gotten to notice much of your state.

When your door opens again, you’re led out and onto your neighborhood street. The fresh air does little to clear your mind. Feeling all but feverish as you hold Junior's small hand in yours while the man of your nightmares smiles all too fondly at the two of you.

“I’ll come pick you up after your shift on Monday.,” he says decidedly—cheerfully as he ruffles Junior’s hair enough to make him giggle. “Bring the rascal with you, and he can pick his room first.”

You weren’t planning on staying. You were never planning on staying—certain you would leave the second the opportunity to skip town arose—you just need to scramble the money together first. 

But the house was huge… nothing you could ever dream of, and while it made you desperate with grief, you couldn’t deny it either… Junior really loved having a dad.

It nearly brought sick to your throat to call him that. It was a shot through the heart every time you heard Junior’s boyish call, squealing with giggles, saying “Daddy, daddy, daddy-”

None of it seemed right to you. Seeing his bright smile, now at the age where a new tooth fell out every other week—looking so goofy as he proudly shows the two of you the new one he’d just knocked out playing soccer at school. “Mommy, Daddy, look!”

What’s worse is that you can't even deny how good the man you hate is at it all—spoiling him with gifts and making him laugh—giving piggyback ride after air-plane flight after tickle-fight and a game of tag and hide’n’seek. 

And it’s not just the easy stuff. He’s good at the shit that used to make you go crazy—putting him to bed, getting him dressed, making him eat the right stuff, and not just scuffle down candy. It’s as if the two of them have developed a secret language you’re not a part of. If Junior weren’t a toddler, you’d even suspect he’d been bribed and told to do his best to make you lose your mind. But no, it’s just reality.

The man you live with drives and picks your son up from school as if he’d done it since he was born, goes with you to meet the teacher if and when he gets into trouble and helps the two of you pick out the right shoes—shoes that you can now afford, thanks to him.

“I thought I might sleep in the master bedroom tonight.” He says, leaning against the frame in the doorway.

You’d been living there a month now. He’d been generous enough to sleep in the guest room up until now.

You don’t know how to deny him. It feels as if anything you might say would just be ignored or threatened until you eventually took it back. You didn’t want him in your bed—you didn’t want him in the same house—in fact, preferably, you’d want him to be six feet deep in the dirt.

You end up not answering. But he’s used to that by now. 

“I get it…” he says, taking steps into the room you’d wrongfully thought was your safe space. “You don’t trust me.” He sits down at the edge of the bed and reaches out across the sheets. You’re too late to pull your feet to yourself before he has one in his hand. He doesn’t do much but stroke it. “But you can.”

The sincerity in his eyes makes you want to gouge them out. It’s all been some cruel joke ever since you moved in—all the pleasantries and presents, as if trying to distract you from the past. Your wardrobe is chockfull of it, and so is Junior’s room—filled to the brim with lies.

“I’m never gon’ hurt you.” Another lie. “I did you wrong once, and I’ll spend the rest of my life makin’ up for it.” 

You want to shake your head, laugh in his face—anything to reject it. But you’re terrified of what he might do if you didn’t play along. The threat of losing Junior is enough to make you cooperative.

“I know I’ve not been fair—pushin’ you into all of this so fast.” He gets down on his knees on the floor as if praying, right down beside you. “I took advantage of a vulnerable situation ‘cause I’m an impatient asshole—but I promise you—” He takes your hand in both of his. “If you give me the chance, I’m gon’ make our lives together like somethin’ outa’ a fuckin’ fairytale—all that happily ever after shit and more, just like you always wanted.”

The kiss he presses upon your knuckles beckons goosebumps to rise all across you. All his words feel like a bad script read by an even worse actor—in fact, this whole thing feels like a prank. And still, it doesn’t surprise you—he’s been laughing at you ever since you were children.

And now, laughing still, only with a fucking ringbox in his hand.

“I want Junior to see us as a united front. I don’t want him askin’ question why we ain’t sleepin’ in the same bed, why we fight behind locked doors, why you cry in the bathroom.” 

He pops the black velvet lid and reveals something so outrages it almost looks tacky lying there in a plush bed of red silk.

“I want us to be happy.” He picks the little thing out and holds it up between his thumb and index, still holding your hand in the other. “I want us to be real.” You can almost see your life flash before your eyes as it threatens your ring finger. “Let’s make us real.”

You don’t say anything as he eases the tiny hoop on, sliding it all the way back until it sits snugly right at your knuckle—dazzling in the dark. A tiny tear slips down your cheek—equally dazzling.

He played some with the digit—a smile on his face. 

“Looks good on you, Mrs.” As he calls you by his last name you almost shake the ring off as if it burned to wear, but it all gets lost when he rushes forward and locks his lips with yours.

You yelp against his mouth, kept from turning away by the large hand holding your jaw, threatening to seize your throat and squeeze. You remember how it had felt. You don’t want more of a reminder, so you intercept his tongue with yours before he forced it down your throat.

He groans at the warm welcome, and your entire body shudders in memory.

You hadn’t let anyone touch you since that time five years ago. It had left a poor taste in your mouth, and the hunger for it had never come back.

You choke it down now as he climbs on top. 

BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Hawks

JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Naoya, Toji

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere smut #yancore #smut #yandere my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia smut #mha smut #yandere mha #yandere bnha #my hero smut #my hero academia smut #bnha smut #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #yandere boyfriend #boyfriend #boyfriend scenarios

[asstrolo]

astrology observations for sad people

— the signs who I personally believe are really misunderstood by their peers are often capricorns and aquarius because of their saturnian tendencies where they become the mature, bigger person or are aloof of how they're presenting themselves, they always think they know better or people feel very intimidated by their personalities and, because people don't understand them, they alienate them,

— aries and scorpio as they are very intense, over confident people, other's might feel put-off by them, they can be very controlling and have a "I don't care" kind of personality that doesn't usually goes well with others, their ways of always trying to make themselves clear and understood causes the opposite effect, they are often misjudged as villainous or mean,

— geminis are also put in a place of having to know better, not given a chance or space to mess up as they are very intelligent people and show it, others might have big expectations which are often not met since they prefer to do what makes them happy and makes them curious, they tend to over-inflate themselves, or the opposite, and people take their words too seriously or not at all, very polarizing sign.

— a stellium in 4th can be super difficult to deal with, specially if it falls on not easy planets like mars, or saturn, uranus, or pluto. These people are always dragged back to their family issues no matter how much they try to escape, their parents maybe gave them too much responsibilities as little kids or vented to their child without thinking of the consequences, if these people ever decide to have a family they should always consider if they're doing it because they want to or because it is what's expected of them.

— chiron in social signs as gemini, aquarius and libra feel very alienated at all times, having social interactions is a learning experience for them, whether is good or bad, I also notice people usually get obsessed with them? They don't respect these people¡s space or it could be the other way around, to me is a placement where you'll learn to not be socially inept or teach people how to treat you right for some reason?

— saturn IS a complicated planet, it depends on the person's other planets and aspects how they deal with saturn, a person with moon conjuct saturn has a harder time dealing with their emotions than a capricorn moon. Even when the energies are similar, they don't have the same impact.

— now, a person with a capricornian stellium or dominant does deal with the saturn energy much comfortably than a person with sun trine saturn, because they were born with it. I personally believe you accommodate, or your aspects accommodate to you as you grow and evolve as a person.

— a pisces stellium, specially if is on moon or ascendants, is very perceptive to other's opinion on them, not in a superficial way but more on a "does this person thinks i'm being fair or mean?" Let's not forget the sister sign of Pisces is Virgo, so these signs also share the analytical or more neurotic way of seeing the world. A Pisces Rising is very self-aware of how they come off to people or how they are seen, they might not show it or say anything about it, a Pisces mercury might be self-conscious about how they approach others, how their voice sounds or how they come off when talking.

— I do believe leo's have a harder time being appreciated by people, as they devote to other's so easily they could neglect themselves in the process. Is the kind of person who is always looking out for someone to make happy or to make them feel comfortable because is something they want reciprocated. But this is a thing that can happen to fire signs a lot, they can be overbearing or too kind to people that it ends up backfiring on them, they have a very childlike mentally.

— is true what they say, a 12th house stellium in a natal chart makes the person passive and/or too in their own world, they have premonitions in dreams, but I've also seen these individuals have a really hard time with sleep, they have paranormal experiences a lot that some of them are used to it. They can be in some sort of medication, but not all, and not always these people are medicated or doing substances, they have an easier time to have out-of-body experiences, like lucid dreaming or sleep paralysis, these can occur because these people are super sensitive and get easily drained and stressed. Is important they are taking care of their energy at all times, I've met many that have one, two or more 12th house placement where I've found out some other person has been doing some sort of witchcraft on them, or have a big negative energy that this 12th houser sucks accidentally.

— having a mercurial dominant or rising can be super difficult when it comes to feeling, they tend to rationalize everything too much, are easily distracted and indulgent, they are very, very anxious at all times on all situations, even if they show otherwise. they overthink things too much, are the kind to be incredibly self-aware or completely out of touch with themselves.

— the ascendant aspecting negatively the mercury gives the individual speech impediment or a very shy personality, an almost inaudible voice or a raspy one, people with this placement have a harder time getting their thoughts across, or people might misinterpret them.

— keeping the conversation going, mercury negatively aspecting saturn makes a shy and reserved person, someone who, as a kid or a teen, has problems with being heard, or people simply didn't care or asked for this person's opinions, they might had been very codependent on an adult or somebody else to talk or to get to be seen, as they grow older they learn to communicate rather excellently, they might want to treat their shyness or whatever problem they have with unwanted attention or negligence

— neptune in personal houses like the 1st, 7th, 4th or 10th is really tricky. you might ignore gut feelings bout certain individuals, or on the contrary, believe someone is good when they aren't. these people can be their own worst enemies as they are super perceptive of how they come across to others, or how others make them feel.

— neptune in the 1st is common on actors and models and singers, usually on famous people, because they can create a fantasy of how they want people to see them, or act like chameleons around people, this creates a series of identity crisis during their lives.

— neptune in 7th is prone to feel things that really aren't there? they convince themselves somebody hates them or likes them for just one interaction, these individuals are like a sponge in social situations and they take everything somebody tells them to the heart. they also are known to lie a lot to people on behalf of good manners, they like to be liked.

— neptune in 4th house has a really confusing or unclear family situation, they might adopt the role of the parent when they shouldn't, or are treated as a child even as an adult, something in their family, in what they think is normal growing up, isn't. the most likely to stay in a bad situation for many, many years because they don't know any better, or think it's normal.

— neptune in 10th, although it deals with fame and impersonal relationships, to me, is just as fundamental as the houses listed above. they don't see themselves through their own eyes, or feel like they depend on other's perceptions on themselves too much, they are confident, or pretend it really well. these individuals know how to act the part, how to commit to the bit, they never feel that sense of belonging anywhere, because they might show different parts of their personalities to different people

— for me, the hardest moons to have are capricorn, scorpio and virgo.

— capricorn moon is a strictly analytical sign, they don't feel comfortable in the moon as is where the emotions and insecurities shine the most.

— scorpio moon is a very intense sign, as opposite to the Capricorn, they can be super emotional, or completely numb, very extremist and their emotions are black or white, polarizing.

— virgo moon is extremely difficult, they don't like to have to feel things, they like to think and act with precaution and it's hard for them to let their emotions slip, the kind of friend who'd have the most practical advice to all sort of topics, a helpful hand in all situations, but when it comes to them as individuals, they let themselves be too much, their head is always at a thousand percent. From what I've gathered of this moon is that, yes, they are neurotic when it comes to certain things, but completely careless to others, and it's usually to themselves, you won't ever see a Virgo moon misbehave or dress bad, but they can hold a lot of suppressed shame or anger or sadness, like they tie it with a bow in a box and keep it locked.

— lastly, no aspect or moon or sign is bad, they are just more difficult than others, there are people with easy aspects, like sun sextile or trine jupiter, they are prone to idealization and inferiority complexes. it's true that a person that has the harmonious aspects is lazier or gets unmotivated way easier. nothing is really set in stone, you can have a moon conjunct saturn and a cancer mercury in 9th house, your way of expressing yourself is more reserved, but optimistic and even childlike. when it comes to astrology, every single aspect and sign, and house counts to describe a person.

#omg long post who this #astrology #capricorn #aquarius #aries #scorpio #gemini #pisces stellium #12th house stellium #4th house stellium #moon conjunct saturn #chiron in gemini #chiron in aquarius #chiron in libra #sun sextile jupiter #sun trine jupiter #capricorn moon #virgo moon #scorpio moon #mercury square ascendant #mercury opposite ascendant #mercury square saturn #mercury opposite saturn #leo #capricorn stellium #gemini rising #virgo rising #neptune #neptune in 1st house #neptune in 7th house

[lotte-s-web]

happy pride month i wrote smth

🔉✩ ❝talk to me❞ hobie brown x gn!reader ✩🔉

₊˚⭑ warnings: penetrative sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it kids), slight humiliation kink, praise kink (?)

hobie loves it when you talk to him during sex.

he finds it relaxing, especially after a long day of patrolling. he needs to hear your voice to unwind, to calm down. it helps him sleep better at night, he swears.

he especially loves asking you about the little mundane things of your life like how your day went, what you had for dinner– stuff like that. it reminds him of simpler times, of the times when he wasn’t a Spiderperson and still considered normal.

so when he swings into your window after rounds all over the city, he scans the place for your silhouette, pulling his mask off to better clear his vision. the moment he spots you, he kisses you before you can get a word in, taking the lead in guiding you to the bed whilst peeling off your layers and his.

he gets you to lay down on your stomach for him, fucking you nice and slow from the back. your hands grasp at the pillow placed beneath your head, he gives you that, but you’d be daft to think that he’d let you hide that voice of yours. he’s got one hand on your waist pulling you back to meet his thrusts and another one holding your face up by your cheeks to refrain you from hiding your face in the cushions and muffling yourself.

“D’ya hear me, luv?” he asks, teasing. his full lips are curled up into a fond smirk as they graze the shell of your ear. he watches your grip on the pillow tighten and knows you’re losing it. his fingers tap at your cheek to bring you back to him which earns him a weak whine from you; it makes him chuckle. “C’mon now, stay wit’ me. Keep talkin’ f’me, yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” you mumble back, nodding as he kisses your temple and hums in approval. you gulp, your breath shaking as you try to recall what you were rambling about. gosh, what was it again..? “A-and so, a-as I was ordering..nngh– she.. she scoffed and—”

“Tha’s it,” he says, groaning as he starts pumping his hips into you again. It pushes you forward and makes you interrupt your speech with a moan, his tip nudging up against that soft ridge inside you that just makes you blank with pleasure. “Keep goin’,” he pants, grunting as you clamp around him at the reinforcement, “y’r doin’ so well..”

you whine at the praise and try to continue the string of words that were so rudely interrupted by his cock. “And.. a-and—” but try as you might, he still has you babbling out your thoughts instead of just saying them. the way he was fucking you had your head spinning, mind clouded with so much pleasure it felt like you couldn’t focus on anything other than the way he was filling you up so delightfully.

and as much as he loves hearing you try to stay grounded for him and keep talking about your day, he can’t bring himself to be upset when you start to cry at him that he felt so good, too good even, losing yourself and trailing off. he might not admit it but he loves it when it becomes so obvious your mind is so torn between talking and soaking in the pleasure that he can’t just help but up the intensity for you, going a little faster, a little harder— just to drive you a tad bit more insane.

nights like these always end with you caving and going off-topic, no matter how much you try not to let your train of thought derail. it always ends with you forgetting where your thoughts were leading you and begging him to go faster, rougher, ‘cause the slow pace just felt like torture. and it always ends with him complying, rewarding you for your efforts and being so good, fucking you till your eyes roll back and your voice peaks at the height of your pleasure as you cum so messily for him.

he soaks in the sound of your voice and spills inside of you with a loud groan, leaning down to press kisses to the back of your neck as he lays a-top you as you both calm down.

it’s safe to say you’re both sleeping better tonight.

a/n: this was a brainfart idea i had earlier last morning when i woke up that i just jotted down in my notes so theres a reason its messy pls dont flame me 🙏🙏 happy to be back and booming

๋࣭ ⭑ tag/s: @eyesxxyou

#lotte's fics #spiderman #spider punk #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #hobie brown #atsv hobie #atsv hobie smut #astv hobie smut #astv hobie #hobie brainrot #hobie smut #hobie x reader #hobie brown smut #hobie brown x gn!reader #hobie brown fic

[apocalypseornaw]

Comfort

You're hurting and Dean comes to the rescue

Talk of period stuff, fluff

Maybe it was internalized misogyny, maybe it was not wanting to look weak or maybe you'd been with the boys for so long you'd picked up on their self destructive tendencies but you hated admiting you were hurt. You'd argue injuries weren't that bad on hunts so you damn sure wasn't about to admit that your period had you doubled up in bed even after taking ibuprofen and having a heating pad tucked tightly against you.

You groaned as you attempted to find a position that meant the rolling cramps in your stomach and back would allow you to sleep but so far you'd been unsuccessful.

You must have dozed off at some point because you woke up to the unmistakable sound of Dean's knock at your door. "Come in" you called out, sitting up in an effort to make it seem like you'd simply been asleep instead of in pain. He walked in and was carrying two bags, one from the pharmacy and one from the grocery store.

He held up the pharmacy bag "I talked to that lady that works the front counter and she says this is the stuff that helped her daughter and now her granddaughter so I figured that was good. I got you more of your products too along with a new heating pad because yours is older than you are because you got it from Bobby" you blinked the tears forming in your eyes away as he held up the grocery store bag "and I got all your favorite snacks,plus a few of my favorite"

"How did you know?" You asked and he grinned "Come on sweetheart, I'm not that dumb. For one you barely sleep in here anymore besides when you want to be alone and you rarely want to be alone besides when you're on your period. And I can count weeks, I try to keep a track so we don't take on any cases that you feel like you need to help us on during this week so you don't overwork yourself" a few tears slipped down your cheeks and his eyes widened "Oh shit, baby did i do something wrong? Forget something?"

You shook your head "No baby. I just love you so damn much" his grin returned, bigger than it had been "I love you too sweetheart. Do you need anything?" "Will you lay down with me?" He nodded "of course" he laid the bags on the dresser and kicked off his boots before getting into bed next to you. He curled up to your back and wrapped one strong arm around your stomach. A moan left your lips when the cramp that had been starting in your lower stomach stopped from the pressure of his arm "Dean Winchester you are the perfect man"

He chuckled behind you and left a kiss on the side of your neck "I think you're a bit delirious from lack of sleep but I'll talk the compliment" you shook your head "nope, you're perfect. Gorgeous, strong, amazing hunter, bit of a dork, a god in bed and a sweetheart at your core"

Dean could feel his cheeks warm at your words "As much as I am loving this darlin, you need sleep. When you wake up you can continue showering me with compliments ok?" You yawned and nodded "I plan to until the day comes that you finally believe it"

You dozed off a little while later and Dean tucked himself a bit closer to you to make sure his arm didn't slip should he doze off. The position he was in had pressure where you needed it the most. He placed a gentle kiss to your neck and whispered "I love you" before getting comfortable on the pillow himself and closing his eyes.

#dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x female!reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #dean winchester x reader

[kfaem]

drunk thoughts - Zayne Li (LNDS)

pairing: Zayne x Mc genre: fluff, comedy, suggestive-ish (mostly inappropriate comments), some angst if you squint (it's implied that caleb and grandma are dead), domestic cw: established relationship, drinking, she really wants to get into zayne's pants lol, she's hungover in the morning authors note: it's late an i am really tired but got motivation to write so here we are. unedited mess. fun fact about me, I don't get hung over anymore :)

It would be a lie to say Zayne was shocked when his phone rang at the late time 2:36 AM, his lover's name appearing on his screen. Zayne had grown familiar with the Saturday night calls after a mission, her colleagues were always hosting post-mission dinners, which almost always involved alcohol. Zayne glanced at the clock, figuring that the night at the hospital had been slow enough to allow him to slip away just to make sure his girlfriend gets home safe.

Greyson wraps his knuckles on the door, announcing that his girlfriend's colleague was on the line saying she needs a ride home and won't get into the cab they called for her. He sighed, slipping off his glasses and setting them down beside his computer.

"I hope you won't mind my absence, I have to make sure she gets home safely." Zayne hung up his lab coat and grabbed his normal jacket, glancing outside at the freezing cold rain slamming down from the sky. "I shouldn't be more than an hour."

"Go ahead, not like we don't have enough help here anyways." Greyson nodded at him with a knowing smile, leaving the door open behind him knowing the other doctor would follow soon after.

He would be lying if he said her behaviour didn't worry him. The frequent Saturday late night's and the drinking. But he also knew life hadn't quite exactly been kind to her.

Zayne pulled up outside of the bar, spotting a familiar tall blond male and Tara, who were both struggling to keep his girlfriend from running off somewhere. "Oh thank god you're here Zayne, she kept insisting that she knew her limit and just... kept going. I tried to stop her but it... obviously didn't work." Tara chuckled awkwardly.

MC's eyes lit up at the sight of her tall, handsome boyfriend and she rushed over, throwing her arms around him. "You didn't forget about me!" He sighed as she nuzzled her red flushed cheeks against his chest, continuing to blab about how much she missed him. "Mmm, someone tried hitting on me and I told them that my big scary boyfriend would hurt them if they tried anything."

Tara met Zayne's eyes, nodding in confirmation at the girl's claims. "He was kinda scary- real big and muscley, I was actually kinda scared but I knew you'd be here to protect me if I needed help." Zayne frowned, petting her hair comfortingly. "Can we go home now? I wanna sleep..."

"Thank you guys for taking care of her, I'm sure she'll share her appreciation with you both in the morning."

"It's no problem." Xavier nodded.

The ride home was surprisingly quiet, he figured the drunken girl had fallen asleep pretty quickly. That was until they drove past her old apartment. "Y'know..." she slurred. "Hm?" Zayne hummed in acknowledgment. "Even though my old place was nice, I'm glad you asked me to live with you... I feel so much happier having you with me."

"I'm glad." The corner of his mouth lifted, sneaking a glance at her glossy eyes, flushed face, and pouty lips. "We're almost home, are you alright with me getting you ready for bed?"

"We've had sex Zayne, I don' care what you do." She lazily looked at him, lips curled into a smile. "As long as 's you."

He coughed at her brazenness and refocused on the road. "You're always so forward when you drink, it's as if you took a truth serum."

"Mmm, I don' need a truth serum when it comes to you." She let out a deep, content sigh, turning almost on her side to look at him fully. "Zayne?"

"Yes my love?"

"I love you. A lot. Like, way too much. I dunno what I would do without you." Her hand found it's way onto his shoulder, where she allowed her fingers to wander. "You're all I really got left." She mumbled. "I can't wait to get old with you."

"Anyway..." she hummed, mood shifting completely, "we don't get to see each other as often anymore. I don't remember our last date night." As she pouted, he smiled slightly. The memory fondly reappearing in his mind.

"Last Sunday we went for a picnic at that lake a few miles out, a goose stole your sandwich and you pouted for almost the entire day. After that, we went to an older style arcade where we played some games from our childhood and won... three plushies, one of which now sits in my office next to a photo of you."

"How do you remember all of that so perfectly?"

"Because I cherish every moment we spend together." Upon realizing that she likely wouldn't remember much of this, he decided to stop. "There, we're home."

He held back a chuckle as she fumbled with the door handle, failing to open it for a long enough time that he found his way around to pick her up out of the passenger seat. "I could've gotten that!"

"Right, that's why I had to grab you."

"Hmph!" Even with her arm wrapped around his neck and her face cuddled into his chest, she found a way to complain.

He felt her eyes on him the entire walk over to the elevator, a smirk found it's way over his face. "Is there something you wish to say, my aurora?"

"Hmm...no, you're just reallllllly pretty... I wanna kiss you..." He sighed, his thumb caressed her thigh. "Mmm, do you wanna kiss me too doctor?"

"Not when you're like this, no." Zayne fumbled for the elevator button, trying to keep her steady in case she slipped out of his grasp. "If you can remember this tomorrow, I'll gladly kiss you after you've cleaned up."

"You're no fun, y'know that right?"

The elevator dinged as it reached their floor and luckily, she seemed so focused on staring at his face that she stopped trying to make advances on him. "Shit..." he mumbled, reaching their door and realizing that his keycard was in his back pocket. "I have to set you down now, can you stand?"

"Mhmm, I'm not a baby deer, I can take care of myself!" She said this with a childish pout that had him chuckling. "What's so funny?"

With the door open, he quickly went to pick her up again, but much to his dismay, she rushed inside. As if she was on ice, she slipped, falling into the table next to the door. "Alright, that's enough..." He swept her up, not letting her squirming deter him from getting her to their room. "I'm going to change you now, is that okay?" She stared at him with big doe eyes, as if none of his words made it out of his mouth. "MC?"

Her gaze lowered to his lips and back up to his eyes, a knowing look came over her eyes. "I...really want you right now."

"As I said earlier, if you can remember this tomorrow, I'll consider humoring you."

"'m not that drunk though, please babe? It's been so long..."

"I already said no, now I am going to ask again, is it alright if I change your clothes?"

Her lip stuck out in a childish pout, clearly upset that she was turned down yet again. "Mhm, go ahead."

After a rough fifteen minutes and very much struggling, she was out of her clothes and into her pajamas, and now laying down on their bed. "You...didn't win, but I'm tired now...'m gonna go t' sleep now..."

"Of course I didn't, go to sleep my love, I'll see you in the morning."

Zayne gently shut the bedroom door behind him as he left the room, letting out a deep sigh as the chaos was finally over.

She woke up with a pounding headache, her body aching all over. Her hand felt around the bed, searching for the familiar heat that she craved. But it was cold. She opened one of her eyes, blinking away the sleep and pain at the bright sunlight that flooded the room. "Ughhh, did I get hit by a truck or something?" MC mumbled, pushing herself up.

"No, but you did drink far too much." Zayne's calm voice reminded her that she was at home, thankfully, and she was safe. "Not to mention, you apparently got into some trouble prior to me showing up to rescue you."

She racked her brain searching for memories from last night, bits and pieces coming to her in a embarrassing rush. "Gods...please tell me I wasn't too bad."

"Aside from trying to sleep with me and talking a bunch of nonsense, I can't say you were... too bad. Just mildly inappropriate." Finally he set a glass of water down, followed by him holding two painkillers up to her mouth. "Open."

Her throat was sore, likely from a night of shouting and reckless drinking, but the water felt nice. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I drank so much this time."

"You're fine, but I do recommend checking with Tara to see if there's anything you may need to apologize for." Zayne brushed a piece of loose hair away from her face. "Don't worry too much, just rest today. I made breakfast, would you like to come out to eat or should I bring it here for you?"

"I'll come out."

"Alright, I'll meet you out there."

#lnds zayne #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne #lads zayne #love and deepspace #zayne x reader #zayne x mc

[nocturnowlette]

Most hypnotists really undervalue focus suggestions.

Focus is the entire point. Hypnosis is the process of guiding someone's focus, hence guiding their perception, and by doing so, guiding their sense of reality. Some people don't even do any, and some do a few then forget about it the entire rest of the trance.

You first grab territory over all of their focus, their sense of reality, and then you put it to use (note: there is nuance to this and you don't need to follow any structure for trance, but this is a general principle that you learn how to effectively break with experience and understanding).

Relaxation is not even necessary for trance, but is necessary for practical purposes. You are essentially using relaxation to free up more focus to allocate to you. That's to say, if you don't actually grab that newly allocated focus, you're not really utilizing anything. At most, the spectacle of the relaxation effects would make them feel more susceptible, which may help, but you're leaving so much on the table.

Your induction's primary goal should be to grab as much focus as you can. If you have all of their focus, dropping them is insanely easy and very quick to do.

Even in the future, I've found that if you do just one insanely strong focus-centric session, that person can be suggested while awake pretty decently. I often just set up triggers on friends without inductions and they work more than fine so long as you account for it being a touch weaker than if it was installed in trance.

The secret is that they are in trance, immediately so, whenever I wish. They're trained to have their focus be drawn to me the moment I want it.

This is all to say, hypnosis is focus and suggestion. If you don't focus on focus, you are missing half the picture.

#owlette #hypnosis #hypnotism #hypnotherapy #hypnotic #hypno advice #hypno pet #hypno sub #hypnotist #hypnokink #hypnok1nk #hypnoposting

[pantherxrogers]

unforgettable - choi san x fem!reader

🧡 pairing: choi san x fem!reader

🧡 warnings: angst, reader and san are married with a son, possible mispelling of korean words for "mom" and "dad" (so sorry! please leave feedback in the comments), fluff, separation

🧡 summary: san kinda fucked up. you're still married but not totally convinced he can balance work and your family. you sent him away for a few weeks, but he can't live with that. you're unforgettable, and he'll do anything to get his family back together.

🧡 a/n: this is 100% inspired by the movie "obsessed" with beyonce and idris lmao. but there is absolutely NO cheating involved. or any mentions of cheating. only inspired by one scene lmao. iykyk. plus second-chance romance always hits different.

hope you guys enjoy! 😚

my masterlist

"bubble, are you ready? daddy's here at the door!" you call into the house, angling your body away from your husband.

"i'm coming, mommy!" jun shouts, little footsteps echoing around in the background. you can tell he's in the toy room, trying to grab even more things than what you've already placed in his weekend bags.

"you look gorgeous, honey." the honesty in san's voice makes your heart flutter. but, you can't bring yourself to show it.

"okay, san," you mutter, trying to keep the grin off of your face. but, he knows you well. even if he can't see your face right now, he hopes his comment had some effect on you. because he really does mean it.

when you finally face him, emotion swirls in your chest. simply put, he looks good as hell. standing on your doorstep, the sunlight melts into his golden skin, accentuating his beauty. he's wearing his hair in your favorite style, obviously intentional. no one should look this sexy in a simple black shirt with jeans, but choi san always finds a way.

and it's hard for you to miss the wedding band still firmly in place on his left hand. you don't even realize you're smiling. but, of course, san does.

"you know it's my birthday on saturday, right?"

"you've only mentioned it a thousand times."

"have dinner with me?"

it's the same request you've heard repeatedly. but, he really is making more of an effort. san has always been a loving father and husband, but your marriage is in a rough spot right now.

before this comeback with ateez, he promised you that he'd make more of an effort to balance work and your family. but, the final straw was when he missed your son's piano recital. he's only five, but you'll never forget the disappointment on his little face when he saw san's empty chair.

so, you'd told him that you'd had enough. it might seem a little dramatic, but you needed to make a point. it's been three weeks since then. he's been staying with wooyoung. for san, every day has been torture. he wonders if you feel the same.

you're lost in thought when the soft patter of jun's footsteps get closer.

"omma, i'm ready!" his excited squeal makes your heart burst. you turn around to scoop him up, planting him on your hip. you try to close the door on san, but he sticks his boot in the way. with a little grunt, you face him again, cradling your son.

"hi junebug! you've gotten even bigger since yesterday!" san exclaims, prompting a giggle from your son.

you love the way they light up in front of each other. the love between them is palpable. you've never once questioned his love for you or your son. but sometimes love isn't enough.

"hi appa!" his squishy arms reach for his father, who smoothly takes him from you. san's touch leaves gooesbumps on your skin, which makes pride swirl in his chest. no one could ever deny the chemistry between the two of you.

"i'll be right back. let me go grab his bags," you explain, turning to walk back into the house.

you feel san's eyes on you. he's talking animatedly with your son, but it's impossible to ignore the way he shamelessly checks you out. you smirk to yourself, retreating further into your shared home.

okay, so maybe you wore this outfit on purpose. but, who can really blame you? after all, you don't want your marriage to end. but you want him to make some real changes. wearing his favorite sundress might be a little over the top, but who gives a damn. a little tease never hurt anyone. judging from the way his eyes roamed all over you, it's safe to say san doesn't mind.

making your way back towards the door, you struggle to hold all of the bags. your son always insists on bringing so many toys with him, even if he's only staying with his dad for a few days,

"hold on champ, let me help mommy," he murmurs, placing your son down. both of them make their way over to you, san smoothly grabbing everything. your son looks a little pouty, always wanting to prove his strength.

"appa, i can help too," he whines, tugging on san's denim.

"i know, buddy. but, i want you to have your arms free to give omma a hug," he explains. this time you're unable to keep the fond smile off of your face.

"c'mere june bug," you hum, sweeping him into a bear hug. you press several kisses on his squishy cheeks, delighting in his happy little squeals.

"i love you, bubble," you whisper, trying to fight the wobble in your lip. san's heart breaks a little bit. he knows neither of you will ever be able to get used to this. and he doesn't want you to. it's just more motivation to get his family back together.

you hug jun tightly before lowering him back to the ground, leading him and san towards the door.

"he'll be back before you know it." the warmth in san's voice makes you smile. he always knows what to say when you need it most.

"i know. i'm just a big crybaby," you whisper, not wanting jun to notice your sadness.

"no. you're just a great mom," he answers honestly, locking eyes with you. it's a direct hit, cracking through the tough exterior you try to put up around san. but maybe you don't want to anymore.

"c'mon bud, let me get you buckled in." san turns his attention to your son, heading out towards the suv he arrived in.

you stand at the door, watching your son babble to his father, likely filling him in on everything he got up to in the last 24 hours. san nods along enthusiastically, hanging on his every word. he puts the bags in the trunk, freeing up his hands to strap jun into the car seat. he jogs to the front seat, turning the car and ac on, before he lets jun's window down.

"bye omma!" his little voice carries across the yard. you make a show of blowing a kiss to him, which he grabs and holds near his heart. you wave and turn your attention to san before the waterworks start again.

to your suprise, he's jogging over to you, one hand behind his back. when he stops in front of you, he reveals a beautiful bouquet of flowers, a small white note sticking out the top of it.

"um?"

"beautiful flowers for my beautiful lady." his shameless flirting makes your cheeks heat up again, feeling like a school girl with a crush. instead of responding, you reach for the note.

have dinner with me? don't make the birthday boy eat alone.

you don't hide your smile this time, looking up to see the bright blush on his cheeks.

"bribing me with your birthday now?"

"you're the only gift i want."

you forget how to breathe for a second, the seriousness in his tone takes you back. regaining your composure, you respond with a curt nod.

"i'll have dinner with you, san" you state, unable to say no to him. and why should you? he really has been making more of an effort. taking off time from work to stop by and see jun (and you, of course).

he does a little victory dance, handing the flowers over to you. he's just as silly as ever, and you can't help but giggle at his antics.

"so, i'll pick you up saturday at 8?"

"i'll call the sitter."

"don't sweat it. woo would die if he knew we paid someone else to watch jun." you giggle again, unable to hide your giddiness. you really do miss laughing and joking with him like this. maybe you're more excited for dinner than you're letting on.

"okay, i'll spare him. i'll see you saturday," you murmur, looking at him through your lashes. san sweeps one last glance over you, like he's committing it to memory and storing it away until he can see you again.

"i'll see you saturday, baby."

#𓆩 ♡ 𓆪 ⊹ ˚˖⋆｡ ra ra fics #choi san scenarios #choi san x reader #choi san ateez #san ateez #ateez fluff #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #choi san imagines #san x reader #san x black!reader #ateez x black!reader

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Tagged by @eddiebabygirldiaz for seven sentence Sunday! Here’s uhhhhh more than that from a buddietommy vacation threesome fic-

The day is hot enough that Buck is curled up like a bug on the dock between them. He’d stayed in the water longer than Tommy or Eddie had, and had swum out further than either of them, so when he’d crawled back up onto the old wood planks he’d chugged an entire water bottle and promptly passed out. Eddie glances down at his bare torso, just starting to get a little pink.

“Should probably get sunscreen on him again.”

Tommy snorts as he leans backwards, stretching out to grab the spray can. “And you’re worried you’ve forgotten how to be a dad.”

“Fuck off,” Eddie says as Buck, still asleep, makes a similar sound when Tommy mists him all over with cold sunscreen. “It’s been months, man, that’s so long for a kid, who knows what he’s even into now-”

“Minecraft, right?” Tommy says as he smooths his hand over a few places the sunscreen pooled on his boyfriend’s back. “Wasn’t he on a video call with you and Buck about it for like three hours on Friday? Something about- uh- command blocks?”

Eddie is mildly impressed Tommy remembers the word — maybe — because he certainly doesn’t. Buck had only been slightly better at following along than he had as they’d squinted at the probably impressive pixels on the laptop screen. “I don’t know, I just feel like…” Every morning, still, he wakes up and thinks he needs to get Chris’ breakfast started. Whole parts of his being are wired around taking care of his kid, but since he’s been gone Eddie has been trying — in fits and starts and most of the time guiltily — to figure out what the rest of him is for. It’s part of what got him into the whole mess in the first place, chasing after the dreams of a 19 year old who got those dreams from his parents. A nice wife (but they never liked her, did they) and a good job (but firefighting is too dangerous, isn’t it) and a picket fence (one closer to home, Eddie, you’ve gone too far away.) So he owed it to Chris, owed it to himself, to figure out what the fuck he actually wants, so he doesn’t keep twisting himself into knots and taking out everyone around him when the line breaks. He’s not sure he’s any closer to whatever that is — other than it’s unlikely to include a wife of any kind — but in the time he’s taken trying, what if other things got lost in the upheaval? “I keep thinking I’ll just- not remember to do something. Forget how field trip permissions slips work, or not know what shoe size he wears, or- I don’t know. Anything. I won’t pack his lunch and it won’t be the end of the world but he’ll be hungry that day.”

Tommy leans back on his palms and looks across at him, quiet and thoughtful for a few moments in that way he has, like he’s thinking through every possible response before he speaks. He is, maybe; he’d confessed to Eddie that he’d spoken too quickly when he was younger, is embarrassed about a lot of the dumb shit he’d said, so he tries to take his time with his words now. “Eddie. You took us up here this weekend to check and make sure this place is accessible to take your kid to this summer. And- I get that’s a big thing, a big gesture, and maybe you’re worried about messing up the small stuff, but… You’ve still got his favorite kind of jelly in the fridge that nobody else eats. You love him, and he knows that. You’re gonna do fine.” He shrugs. “And he’s almost fourteen, if you forget to hand him lunch he’s gonna let you know.”

Eddie huffs a small laugh. “Yeah, I guess he will.” He groans a little, shaking his head. “Fourteen years old, that’s fucking crazy. I don’t feel old enough for that to be true.”

Tommy rolls his neck so it audibly cracks. “Yeah, yeah, you whippersnapper.”

Eddie grins at him. “You feeling the exercise, old man? Need to go lay down?” He cackles and leans away as Tommy grabs the can and sprays a burst of sunscreen at him.

Between them Buck grunts at the commotion, and rolls towards Eddie. He presses his face into the meat of his bare side above his trunks, and wraps his long arms around his torso. Eddie glances up at Tommy, who just looks fondly amused. “Uh. Wrong guy, there, bud.”

Buck stills, and then pulls back a little to squint up at him. Eddie’s not particularly ticklish, but something like goosebump are shivering across the skin of his stomach where Buck’s forearm rests against him. He has to actively try not to shudder as Buck pulls back and rolls the other way, Eddie watching hypnotized as he gives Tommy the same treatment. Buck presses a little kiss onto Tommy’s hip, in the spot he had just been cuddled into on Eddie, and Eddie’s mouth goes dry.

Tommy lets out a little breath, and Eddie doesn’t think he’ll be able to use the sun as an excuse for how pink he’s gotten as his eyes snap up to the other man’s face. Except- he’d been expecting a raised eyebrow, a flat mouth, some visual indicator of disapproval, that this is one step Buckandeddie too far, that all the rest of their codependent lives have been fine, a platonic kind of care built over years of being there for each other through the worst of the worst, but now the uncomfortable answer to what Eddie wants, the uncomfortable answer he’s been trying to avoid because it's something he cannot have, has been found out and the messy insides of him will have once again ruined something good. But what he finds is a tiny little smile and heavy eyes that-

Well, they don’t look disapproving in the slightest.

“You guys hungry?” Buck mutters, words muffled by Tommy’s skin. “We should go start the grill.”

Tommy’s little smile gets wide and lazy, eyes still stuck on Eddie. “I could eat,” he says.

Tagging @iinryer @shitouttabuck @butchdiaz @chronicowboy @homerforsure @rewritetheending @bigfootsmom if you have anything you want to share!

#not sure about the pacing on this but i mean it to be a short fic so its not like there will really be time to spread it out any more #tag games #seven sentence sunday #buddietommy

[sirenscriptures]

primarchs + fantasies (2)

anonymous asked: Can I like. Beg you to do another of the primarch fantasies. But including Angron and Peter Turbo. Don't care too much about who else you go for if you do it but please there's so little content for them 😭😭😭🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

notes: you ask and you shall receive my sweet anon <3 if you want more primarchs for this series of hcs do let me know!! i decided to include my fav emo ankle biting bat and pretty goth raven man along with your lovely choices. (mdni banner is by arlerts-angel!)

warnings: pretty much gender neutral ! reader. size difference. touch starved primarch time. possessiveness. some bondage. body worship mentioned. depictions of fear play + predator/prey + slight stalking on konrad’s part. the primarchs not knowing how to deal with intimate feelings (shocker!!)

perturabo

for one so cold such as perturabo, it’s a safe assumption that any type of fantasy—even if fleeting—is an utter waste of time. and to no one’s surprise, wasted time is one of his many irritants.

in general, primarchs aren’t recognized as being the greatest with intimacy, yet there are certainly ones who are better at handling it than others, and perturabo is not within that group, at least not yet. shall we say…he would be low-ranked on the intimacy scale compared to some of his brothers.

though, in his slow-building foundation of trust with you, various facets of the massive primarch began to reveal themselves.

it started small, really—fleeting thoughts in your absence of how you watched with a bright curiosity at how he spent so many hours repairing and creating countless devices at his workbench, looping even the smallest of interactions you were able to have in your limited time together within his head during his alone time, the feeling of your prolonged absence beginning to drive an even emptier pit within his chest that made it impossible to focus on anything…

at a certain point, the initial waves of these new urges made perturabo’s already thin patience begin to melt away completely, making him more prone to snapping at everyone around him, even toward you at times—which he of course would come to regret.

but other than his immense frustration due to his inability to recognize and fully confront his deeper desires, he would find himself giving into these “wastes of time” he’d resented so much before.

specifically, desires to explore every part of your delicate body. desires that made him, perturabo of all souls, yearn for physical contact from only you. even if it meant splaying you out on his workbench or hooking you into one of his large contraptions so you had nowhere to flee, he’d do it.

just envisioning how your fragile skin would be stained with marks from metal straps and contraptions digging into your soft flesh, how warm and tight you would be even with his thick cock barely inside of you, and how addictive your noises would be to him as he’d let himself finally have the privilege of getting completely lost in pleasure instead of his own monumental ego…it was enough to drive even someone as stone cold as him mad.

yet, there was more to these thoughts. perturabo had no interest in simply pleasuring you, or getting his pleasure from you. even though pleasure in this sense was fundamental, the aspect that enthralled him the most was being able to call you “his”. not that just your body was his, but that you belonged to him. and he had no means of forgetting to remind you. physically, emotionally, mentally, he wanted to let you know that you belonged to no one else but him.

the more he entertained these thoughts, the more he couldn’t even really recognize himself anymore. you had somehow managed to completely rewire his way of thinking. whether this was good or bad was to be determined…maybe after he did what he did best: putting his ideas into action.

angron

although angron is one of the primarchs who struggles with intimacy the most, that doesn’t mean he is immune from having the same thoughts and desires as his brothers. the only thing that truly “prevents” these thoughts are—you guessed it—the nails.

due to the amount of pain he was in at almost every waking moment, angron had essentially written off any other feeling than his anger. after all, he had no choice. the way he was engineered made this unfortunate truth evermore present, especially when you started growing on him.

he couldn’t even fathom how it was possible that he’d started growing attached to you. of course he had care for certain folk around him, like his sons and certain siblings, of course. but when it came to you, it was completely different. not even the nails could drive hard enough into his brain tissue to convince him that it wasn’t. yet, any time he wished to explore the sensations you gave him, the anger would always wash over him even more than the last time.

anyone that even knew slightly of the primarch knew that his fury was unmatched. his rage boiled like no other, even out of the deepest pits of the immaterium; and the way he fought and shed others' blood displayed that clearly. and though his exterior would never let you know it, he did have the capacity to worry despite the pain.

the truth was that these desires were possibly even stronger than his own potent rage. but angron knew, with that same bitter taste in his mouth, that even if he were able to, letting himself release onto you would only end up hurting you; but more likely killing you. though he could be bloodthirsty and careless of the lives he tossed away, you were different to him than others. his trust was not easy to gain by just anybody, but your gentle nature and genuine kindness even despite his own temperament had gradually surrendered it to you.

though it’s immensely painful for him, sometimes he can’t help but to think of you. there are so many times where he craves the feeling of your bare skin against his. times where he can feel you in every aspect, from the taste of your lips to how it feels pushing inside you. the pain he’s so used to feeling doesn’t stop him from envisioning how hypnotizing you’d look pushing yourself down onto his shaft, head throwing back as your entire body trembled at the feeling of his length stretching you from the inside.

he knew it could never truly happen because of these feelings, but a part of him wanted so badly to feel you with his own hands. as battered and scarred as they were, you’d always looked so soft to him. the attraction angron had to you seemed to only fester when he had these thoughts, causing even more pain for him.

envisioning a position where he can have you in his possession and feel every single part of you without any pain feels like it could be the closest feeling to euphoria he could ever feel. even if it’s just a sliver of the sensation, the pain feels worth it in some form. even if you have to restrain him until he has fresh scars, it would all be worth it for you. at least, some part of him felt that.

corvus corax

like many of his brothers, corvus is extremely complicated. there are many cold and immovable aspects to his personality, yet there is still the glimmer of humanity in him. there are also aspects of vulnerability that you don’t get to see too often, at least as a human surrounded primarily by legionaries.

even as a human who never got much interaction with him, corvus knew there was something about you worth exploring. while it was never too common for primarchs to interact so personally with humans in or outside of their legions, he wasn’t the type to be concerned about any raised eyebrows or whispers.

the more alone time he spends with you, while limited at first, only makes this curiosity within him grow. every visit with you makes him want to know even more about you than the last, even when your conversations expand from only mere minutes to hours.

while it only seems like a harmless interest of his in the early stages, corvus slowly begins to realize just how much of an impact you leave on him, and it eats away at him in your absence. there is something desperate within him when thinking of you. it doesn’t make sense at first due to how new these sensations are to the primarch, but it comes together eventually.

maybe it was how deeply he’d gotten to know you that drew him closer. even just the sight of your face or sound of your voice could pull him from even the darkest of ruminations that plagued his mind so often. the first time he’d ever heard you sincerely smile and laugh without any worry of formality made something in him feel more alive than ever.

his thoughts of you were fond, but they had so much more depth now. because of you, his mind no longer felt so dark and clouded.

the desperation he felt for you was connected to the deep longing for your touch. though he could never let you know that, corvus still ached to feel you. his thoughts of you were full of admiration not only for your character and personality, but also for your body.

if he let himself slip too much into the thought, it would make him wonder what it would be like exploring your body. you were so delicate, so gentle that he’d have to almost “train” himself to handle you properly and with care. your body was so fascinating to him entirely. in his mind, there wasn’t any other way to make you know that than to worship it entirely.

so many thoughts and wonders of feeling you and noting which parts of you were most sensitive, so many visions of your back arching and body squirming, so many questions of whether you felt similar to him.

of course, he has to pull himself away from these thoughts, which is a battle against himself every time. though, there are still so many questions in his mind that remain. even when he’s gotten to know so much about you, there is always a deeper yearning in the raven guard primarch to display how much he desires you as a whole. for now, he can only hope that these fantasies don’t just exist as such forever.

konrad curze

curze is another one of those special cases, in that most if not all of his fantasies involve invoking fear in some way. yet, his fantasies about you are quite different from his fantasies of how he sheds others’ blood.

in true primarch nature, it takes him quite a while to properly acknowledge these thoughts and urges. having these types of feelings for a human was the last thing he’d ever expected in his lifetime. he never would have found his mind capable of ever having these feelings for really anyone.

for a being so centered on generating fear and violence wherever he is, it’s like the world he’d always known was shattering around him. the discovery of his feelings and desires for you feel like konrad’s biggest loss yet an amazing revelation at the exact same time.

before, you were such an insignificant face in his mind. just an innocent stranger, almost like the rest of them. almost. that was the part that had stuck out in his mind: you were clearly different in the way he’d spared you from death. yet, he never understood why.

these feelings are almost unbearable to him, like a sickness of some kind. it’s almost like feeling this way changes him physically in some form, because it seems to take a toll on his health and stature for a while. yet somehow, it feels good…and he doesn’t want the overwhelming sensations to stop.

though he manages to hide it from you when you’re present, it comes to a point where even the mere scent of you fires off a million of these sensations at once: head spinning, vision almost completely blurred, feelings of that same drunken sickness mixed with an intense, unquenchable thirst for more blinding all rational thoughts…

yet, it somehow only intensifies. he can’t help but think of how beautiful you’d look underneath him, eyes glassy with that familiar fear he’d evoked in so many. even if it’s only an image in his mind, konrad can feel how soft your lips are, how delicate your neck is with his massive hand engulfing it, and how desperately you writhe beneath his body, both in fear and arousal.

the mere thought of you eventually becomes insatiable to him. he needs to feel you, needs to be as close to you as he possibly can, even if that means lurking wherever you are. he really doesn’t care whether you see or not, though he has quite a talent for slipping right away from your vision before you can even turn your head.

it doesn’t matter how much he tries to fight the visions away. once his mind was set on you, an endless spiral drove deeper into his mind with each passing moment. even if he would never fully understand why he’d felt this way, or how this had ever come to be, konrad knew that there was far too much enjoyment to be had in this little game of chase with you to really care.

even if there was a very small part of him that did truly wonder of the deeper parts of yourself other than your mixed fear and interest within him, he’d never truly let that be known. at least, not in a direct way. but who knows? maybe one day you’d see that mask slip accidentally. but until then, he would still keep so many secrets from you, even in his own fantasies of you.

written by sirenscriptures. do not copy, repost, rewrite, translate, use, or post on to any other site.

#primarch x reader #primarch smut #primarch headcanons #konrad curze x reader #angron x reader #perturabo x reader #corvus corax x reader #warhammer 40k x reader

[slutt4ellie]

Hearts Over Hierarchy

PT4 - Forgiveness Or Farewell

Loser!Ellie x Popular!Reader

masterslist

PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3

Do opposites really attract?

Summery - Ellie has the least bit of concern of  rekindling what you broke, and on the other hand you and Emily haven’t talked about what happened.

Warnings -> Miscommunication / THIS CHAPTER IS MESSY NGL. / Sexual themes mentions / Cut off sex 🤨 / Reader is PROBLEMATIC / feelings are heavily disregarded / brief mentions of Skater!Ellie / (Lmk if I missed anything else.)

WC: 5.1k

(Not proofread)

You’ve tried again and again to get Ellie to talk to you.

She just won’t, she’s blocked your number, has avoided you through campus, and it almost feels like before you knew Ellie.

She just hardly made an acknowledgment she even fucking existed. And that you hated.

Because now since Ellie’s entered your life, picturing her not in it seemed impossible.

And it’s been only a week since Ellie saw you swapping spit with someone you assured her was just your “friend”.

And you genuinely feel like you’re going crazy.

Because if you can’t last a week without her, you don’t know how you’re going to last any longer. It just fucking sucked.

You wanted everything to just sink into the ground and forget any of this happened.

You especially wanted to forget everything that happened with Emily.

Despite you saying you were going to talk to Emily you haven’t got around to it.

Not because you didn’t want to, but the night after the party she had family stuff she had to do. It was planned before everything between the two of you happened, so it couldn’t be avoided.

At least that’s what she’s been telling you.

You’ve texted her a lot, it feels like a parallel with you and Ellie almost, you guys both haven’t discussed what you are, or what is even happening between you two but again it seems oddly romantic.

And that’s just through texting.

Another thing that you’ve been blocking is what happened the night of the party. The one where you and Emily kissed. The drive home was almost silent. Just you and Emily reminiscing in silence both trying to figure out what the fuck happened.

But what unfolded once you reached inside the comforts and privacy of the sorority was something you could have probably gone without.

Because not only did you and Emily kiss once you reached inside, but it resulted in you waking up in her bed.

So yeah. You fucked up.

You’re whole life seems like it’s been thrown for a curveball and you’re just desperately trying to have it be stable.

You don’t know what you want right now.

Or more so who you want.

Emily’s been there for so long of your life, and do you really want to break that simply because you can’t choose between her or Ellie.

No..

You just can’t wrap your head around why it felt like the kiss between you two was something that had to happen, rather than you wanting it to happen. The same when you guys slept together.

Every time you kissed Ellie you didn’t once feel obligated.

So with that knowledge the answer should be easy?

With one person you feel forced, and compelled, and with the second person it feels almost natural.

Fuck if only it was that easy.

After thinking for a solid 5 seconds you decided to make a split decision, that sulking in bed for any longer then you already had wasn’t going to settle anything.

So you groaned as you lifted your body getting a good glance at your bedroom.

Ellie’s skateboard.

Right! She left it in your car after that night.

All you have to do is give it back? You know where her dorm is.

That can give you two a proper chance of actually talking, no Emily, no one near you two. Just you and Ellie.

All you can hope is that she’ll hear you out. That’s all you need.

So that’s what you did.

You put on some clothes looking a bit overly dressed for a simple return of a skateboard but you wanted to look nice…for yourself..?

Because this really isn’t about Ellie finding you attractive it’s about her forgiving you, maybe even rebuilding a possible friendship.

At least that’s what you hoped.

Because as soon as you got out of your car 10 minutes off campus you see the student dorms.

It’s been a little bit since you’ve been to Ellie’s dorm but you had it memorized. So it really didn’t take long.

Because soon you were faced with her door.

It should be as simple as just knocking, but you’re choked up.

Which is weird because you never usually feel yourself get extremely nervous, while interacting with a girl.

But It’s not really just a girl.

It’s Ellie.

You look at her skateboard and quickly remind as to why you’re actually here.

And with that you knock.

It didn’t take long till you were hearing a trail of footsteps coming from the opposite side of the door.

A voice who’s is not Ellie’s saying “I’ll get it El..”

Fuck- fuck is she with a girl right now?

Now you’re wondering why you even came here because is Ellie hooking up with someone? and your looking fucking desperate on the other end with a stupid skateboard and a shitty apology.

But no. Ellie wasn’t hooking up with someone.

It was just Dina.

Dina was the first to hear about what transpired that night. She knows because Ellie called her immediately after the matter.

She was sobbing and her voice was incoherent.

Just a shit ton of hiccups and desperate attempts to get back air she was losing due to your actions. She was really on the brim of a full blown panic attack but some how she managed to keep that factor under wraps.

Dina pulled up a good 5 minutes after, she wasn’t stupid and knew something happened, but she just didn’t except the site which she pulled up on.

Ellie was sitting on the edge of the sidewalk head deep in her palms fully sobbing.

She hated how she was crying because of you.

It made her feel dumb that you got her in a position that resembled a toddler getting told no.

Either way once she felt a hand on her shoulder and Dina’s voice coming through soft she knew it was over.

Because then more tears were coming through and she stood up with the intent to get into Dina’s car. Try to ignore the awkward question.

Basically just not trying to talk or let the thought of you flow freely through her mind any longer.

“Ellie..?” Dina hugs her softly.

Ellie’s arms wrap out Dina instantly and her head goes deep in her shoulder.

A attempt to hide the fact she was bawling. Which was not thought through, yet did give Ellie comfort.

“What happened.” Dina says pulling back to wipe Ellie’s tears.

Ellie just shakes her head and let’s out a out of breath. “Her..”

There’s only one “her” Dina thought of and it was you.

And yet she didn’t know the story at that moment it’s all she needed to hear that you were cut out of Ellie’s life.

Because not once in their 10+ years of friendship has she ever seen Ellie like that.

Ellie’s had meltdowns, like literally everyone in her life. But even when Cat broke up with Ellie her girlfriend of a year she didn’t have a reaction like this one.

She didn’t completely understand what you could have done to get Ellie in this position but she knows it has to be bad.

“You need to leave.” Dina says, her eyes seem mad and directed to you.

“I just want to talk.? Please.” You beg out desperately.

“Leave.” Dina shakes her head once again.

“I have her skateboard..” You hold out allowing Dina’s gaze to trail off of you and onto the skateboard.

Dina reaches out her palm. A flat surface so you can easily give it to her.

“D-dina can I just talk to her..?” You ask again. Not yet handing the skateboard to her.

Dina’s wants to laugh in your face, because it’s ironic how you ended up kissing someone, yet you’re outside acting like you could cry.

“Are you fucking joking?” Dina says now stepping out of the dorm shutting the door gently trying not to have Ellie assume somethings happening.

“W-what?” You say.

And now Dina does laugh, making you feel like an idiot for even coming.

“You weren’t the fucking one who picked up Ellie after she saw you!-” Dina emphasized on the you by pushing her finger right in the middle of your collarbone. “Fucking kissing Emily or whatever the fuck her name is!”

“I know-I know I fucked up.” You shake your head.

“Is that supposed to offer comfort?” Dina says.

“But it’s not like that?!” You try, but it goes ignored by Dina.

“Are you trying to justify it or some shit?” Dina says.

“W-what no!” You shake your head really fast.

“I’m not! I know what I did- was insanely fucked up! And if I could take it back I would?” You say.

“Well you can’t.” Dina says.

“Stop trying?” She continues.

“Just leave Ellie alone. It’s over and you made that decision..” Dina sighs out.

You look her up and down. Trying to think of anything so Dina won’t walk out just yet.

“..You block me or her?” You spit out nervously. You really don’t know why you’re asking that. It just feels like you should try to talk as much as you can. Maybe Dina will see you actually do care.

“Does it matter?” Dina rubs her hand down her face, a result of being annoyed by you.

“Yeah?” You look up at her.

“Me.” Dina says shaking her head.

“You’re not good for her.” Dina says looking at you.

“I’ve never seen Ellie like that before.” Dina try’s to explain.

She doesn’t like you, or thinks you deserve any sort of explanation, but she thinks you do deserve to realize how much you actually did hurt Ellie.

“As in.?” You questioned.

“It doesn’t matter.” Dina shakes her head slowly going back to Ellie’s dorm door.

“It does!?” You say desperately. About to get another word out.

But both of you gazes are turned at the door when you hear a click signalling it opened.

Ellie has a grey hoodie and baggy jeans on. Her eyes are red.

You know she’s been crying.

Before seeing you in front of Dina’s body she talks. “Dina why are you just fucking out her-“

Ellie gets her voice cut off because she’s looking at you.

Her frown comes back, and her eyes are glossy once again.

You don’t say anything, neither does Dina, and obviously Ellie.

So now the whole hallway is filled with a shit ton of awkward silence..

Dina decides to break it first.

“I was just sending her off.” Dina says turning to look at Ellie.

Ellie hardly responds her gaze pierced on the floor. “Ah..”

“Can we talk?” You say and Dina sighs, she knows Ellie’s going to say yes..

Ever since Ellie sobered up and her anger partially subsided she wanted to reach out to you first.

Dina told her nothing good is going to come from it, and since your number was now blocked on Ellie’s phone she couldn’t really so much.

Dina’s been glued to Ellie’s side so it made it impossible to even see you.

“Yeah.” Ellie immediately responds before looking at Dina.

“I’ll be fine.” She offers a comforting smile.

Dina groans but nods, she knows she can’t fight it. Because Ellie seems to stick to things when her minds focused on it.

So she complied telling Ellie she’ll grab the two of them some food.

And soon you’re in Ellie’s dorm, somewhere where you haven’t been in about 2 weeks.

“S-sorry it’s messy.” Ellie finally pulls down her hood sitting on the edge of her single bed..

“It-it’s fine really..”

Ellie out of nervousness subconsciously start’s fidgeting with her two fingers before spitting out some that feels like fire on her tongue.

“Are you and Emily dating..” Ellie clears her throat as tears again are brewing.

“No.” You say fast shaking you head.

As you feel a singular tear fall down your left cheek you wipe it off. Ellie notices and looks at you.

“I-I don’t even know why I kissed her.” You say.

Ellie doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t want to forgive you, she just doesn’t really want to see you crying, despite the state you had her in a week ago.

“Okay..” Ellie says.

“I don’t know what you want me to do with that information.” It came out cold, but right now she couldn’t act like she was happy.

“I’m not waiting for you to fucking figure out who you want.” Ellie says having you quickly cut her off.

“It’s not like that?” You shake your head.

“Mhm..” Ellie sighs.

“Did you guys-“ Ellie starts but you cut her off.

“Ellie?..” You don’t want to answer it, because the only thing you could reply with would be the truth. That being yes.

“It’s literally a yes or no question.” Ellie presses.

But when no response comes from you, she got her answer.

“Dina was right- you should just leave.”

“Ellie-“ You sigh out.

“No you need to leave.” She says standing up. Clearly her throat so her voice appears as more full.

“I-I can’t..” You say looking at her also standing up.

“Please just leave.” Ellie looks down now tearing up. Her walls feel like their crumbling all over again. The last thing she wants to do is cry in front of you.

You hesitantly move your hand to her cheek.

Ellie’s eyes close and she leans into your touch.

“Do you like me.” Ellie ask.

“Yes..” You say not hesitating.

“Do you like her.” Ellie ask.

“Ellie she’s my best friend.” You say.

Ellie sighs and pulls back opening her eyes. The lights again were just turned on. “Yeah well she clearly fucking loves you?”

Ellie feels like she’s growing crazy the more she talks to you. It’s like everyone but you sees it.

“Dina’s my best friend and i’ve never wanted to make out with her?! Fuck let alone sleep with her!?” She says.

“You don’t get it Ellie!” You yell.

“Then fucking explaining dude!” Ellie yells back.

“Am I a fucking joke to you?” Ellie ask.

“What..” You say looking at her.

“Am I a FUCKING joke.” Ellie yells right in your face. Something that you’re unfortunately getting used to..

Neither of you willing to admit that yelling about it isn’t going to fix shit.

After a long pause you finally talk.

“Would you be my friend if I hypothetically started dating Emily.” You say it like your tired. And to be fair you are.

Ellie doesn’t respond, she just looks down embarrassed. Her anger fading.

Because no.

She wouldn’t be.

And you know she wouldn’t be. Just by the fact Ellie’s eyes can’t meet yours and her teeth are slotted in her bottom lip are a clear sign she wouldn’t be.

Her mannerisms made that clear.

“Exactly.” You say.

“I doubt Emily would want to be friends either.” You clear your throat.

Ellie looks at you.

She doesn’t know what to do, because now she’s currently feeling multiple emotions. It feels like everything is flowing through her mind and she can’t control it.

That she hates.

Because she doesn’t like feeling anger when she looks at you. It’s shitty.

So she takes a step forward and literally just hugs you.

You instantly wrap your arms around Ellie falling into her embrace which grants you in warmth. It’s been a bit since you’ve guys been physical but it wasn’t off.

I guess something you didn’t anticipate is the light kiss on your forehead which followed. But either way you didn’t mention it. It’s literally only been a week and before everything went down with Emily you and Ellie were obviously often being physically. That including kissing.

So even though she hasn’t kissed you in awhile the kiss to your head wasn’t shocking.

“I would never make you pick.” Ellie sighs pulling back.

“Y-you know that.” Ellie smiles lightly. It’s more to comfort you. Because even though she doesn’t want to make you pick she doesn’t want to face you with someone else.

“I just- I don’t think I could be your friend if you dated her.” She looks down.

“And that’s not even fucking supposed to persuade you. I just- like couldn’t.” Ellie says her arms still wrapped around you.

Yours eyes met and it feels again like you again, have a decision. She moves her hand to your cheek and tucks a strand behind your ear.

Ellie’s eyes glance to your lips and she internally leans in.

You also lean in.

You don’t really know who kissed who. But once your lips met the two of you both started making out hungrily.

There was little pants as Ellie’s lips moved to the side of your lips, meeting your jaw, then neck. She sucks accompanied with a bite which is going to leave a mark. You know that and she does too, that being the reason Ellie why she even felt the need to leave a hickey..

She wanted it to be known.

“Fuck..” Ellie pants out moving the both of you to the bed sliding off her hoodie in the process.

It doesn’t take long till Ellie’s pressed on top of you refusing to break the kiss.

Her hands slip on the hoodie out of pure nervousness but she eventually gets it off.

It leaves her in just her sports while she’s desperately trying not to break the kiss between you two.

Your hands hastily find Ellie’s jean button and you don’t waste time to unbutton them..

While her jean button is getting undone her hands go under your shirt squeezing your boobs, again still not breaking the kiss.

It happened fast, because the moment went from making out to your hand inside Ellie’s jeans cuffing get pussy.

As you’re rubbing light circles on Ellie’s clit feeling the wetness through her boxers there’s a consecutive number of knocks.

Ellie’s whole face turns red and she starts to pull back from you as your remove you hand from her jeans.

You guys are both just silently looking at each other wondering if there really was a knock. Or if it was your mind playing tri-

There’s another knock and Dina’s voice talks. “Yo- can one of you grab the door my hands are full”

Ellie scrambles and helps you off the bed first before standing up and buckling back up her jeans.

She watches you slowly walk to the door straightening you clothes in the process.

As you walk to her dorm door you see Ellie’s now back in her grey hoodie giving a signal you can open the door.

Even though you can you hesitate having your hand shadow the door handle, hesitating to open it.

But after swallowing a big chunk of air you do. You see Dina’s gaze travel back and forth between you and Ellie.

Based on Ellie’s flushed cheeks, and how she’s purposefully avoiding Dina’s gaze, you don’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure out that’s the fuck was happening.

Or what was going to happen?

“You two were gonna fuck!” Dina accuses putting the food on Ellie’s studying table.

“W-what no!” Ellie shakes her head nervously.

“W-we weren’t!” Ellie talks.

“I was gone for like 13 minutes??” Dina then turns to look directly at you.

“Fuck Ellie you fold so fast?” Dina groans.

“No I don’t??” Ellie says embarrassed walking towards Dina falling right beside you.

“Yeah sure you don’t?” Dina looks back at Ellie rolling her eyes.

“So you two didn’t kiss?” Dina questions tilting her head.

Ellie just groans and grabs your hand out of instinct, again like always she doesn’t really think. She just does it.

“You’re so weird?.” Ellie sighs.

Dina nods and rolls her eyes. “You two literally were about to fuck after I was home for like 5 minutes, but you know! i’m weird..” Dina mutters.

“We weren’t!” Ellie says putting her head in her free hand.

Emily was coming back to the sorority today. And you were nervous.

And if you’re being honest with yourself that was an understatement, you didn’t know what the fuck to do.

It was late and you’ve been staring at your ceiling for what feels like a few hours.

After you and Ellie kissed, you decided to stay the night. Where you guys did end up sleeping together..

And the rest of that night was filled with kissing, cuddling, staying in each others arms all night, and a few hickeys which you now needed to cover.

But then again after that moment with Ellie it became ultimately clear that with Ellie it wasn’t forced..

And with Emily it was.

You hated yourself for feeling that way and there’s a part of you that wishes maybe those feelings could be reciprocated.

Because then everything would be easy.

But no.

You’ve only ever seen Emily as a friend.

And that’s something you had to face.

So when you hear the door open and the other girls greeting Emily you knew she was back.

And you knew you had to talk to her,

As much as you wanted to run away.

You had to..You had to face an awkward ass conversation.

So reluctantly that’s what you did, you turned over getting off your bed, putting on some makeup to cover the few hickeys, and sucked up any nervous feelings, making your way down the stairs.

It didn’t take long till your eyes meeting blue ones.

That’s when the guilt struck. Because you haven’t told Emily what the fuck happened while she was gone, and it’s dawning that you again led another person on. It was Ellie first and now her.

Emily smiles and walks to the end of the stairs where you were coming down.

“Hey!” Emily says hugging you.

“Hi..!” You’re arms wrapped around Emily as she hug you, the thing was you couldn’t hide that your voice was off. Having Emily pick up on it.

Like she always done.

“What’s up.?” Emily uses one hand to cuff your cheek.

“Can we talk.” You clear your throat.

Emily nods and smiles trying to cover her nervousness.

She didn’t understand what could have happened to have you want to talk to her immediately?

“Yeah..course..!” Emily frowns then covers it quickly plastering on an obvious fake smile.

Which you ignored.

With that you and Emily trail to your bedroom.

Once the door is closed Emily sits on your bed and you’re nervously looking down on her.

“W-what’s up?” Emily says.

You look at her for a few seconds. You don’t know how to say it? How to tell her that just a few days after you left you and Ellie kissed? Then slept together.

“I-Em i’m so sorry..” You tear up.

“What..?” Emily frowns again.

Emily stands up and holds your cheeks.

She’s obviously still oblivious, she’s not sure what could have happened to have to freak out so fast?

“What happened..” Emily kisses your nose.

You close your eyes and finally spit out the words that were longing on your tongue..

“Emily me and Ellie we-“

Emily doesn’t even let you finish you sentence before she pulls back.

“Emily..” You reach out and she looks at her.

“I’m not doing this..anymore.” Emily shakes her head tearing up.

You look at her. “Emily you know I love you so much” You nod.

“I just-“ You try to talk.

“You love Ellie..don’t you?” Emily shakes her head running her hand down her face.

“I-I don’t kn-“ You can’t spit it out.

“You guys deserve each other. Don’t worry. You really do.” Emily puts on a fake smile before clearing her throat.

“I’m not gonna fucking beg for your love anymore.” Emily says.

“Emily-“ You try but she just shakes her head.

“It’s fine really.” Emily nods.

“You’ve never begging for my love?” You say again stepping forward which just leads her to step back once again.

“I do love you- you’re my best friend.” You wipes you own tears.

“Exactly!- you don’t fucking..you don’t see me like that. So i’m done” Emily says her voice choking up in the middle.

And it’s true, she was done. She was done.

So now you’re just alone with your thoughts, finally letting it dawn on you what the fuck has happened..

You lost Emily.

The girl who you’ve known for years, left your room on the brink of tears and now it’s starting to feel like you just permanently closed a chapter.

Now no longer being able to open it.

You don’t know what to do. And to be honest that really scares you.

You go back and forth between a decision for a few seconds..

You finally grab your phone out of your pocket, shaky hands and nervousness coursing through your body.

You hesitate to click Ellie’s contact but you do.

Right now you only have one person and that’s her.

Emily was a person you could always go to. whether it be serious or stupid she was always there.

But this time it was about her? And you didn’t know how to handle it without any reassurance.

Leaving Ellie as the next option.

It rang for a few seconds before Ellie’s voice came through. She sounds like she’s been sleeping since you notice a rasp and tired tone.

“Hi?” Ellie says yawning.

“Hi.” Your tone is shaking and you sound like your about to cry. Ellie notices that.

“What’s up?” You can already hear sounds of Ellie standing up probably deciding whether or not you need help or something.

“Where you at?” Ellie questions.

“I’m okay- just wanted to talk?” You don’t want her to go out of her way to come all the way to the  sorority.

Ellie didn’t have a car and it was late. You didn’t want her outside.

“Yeah we can talk when I get there? You just home.?” Ellie ask as you hear shuffles only assuming she was putting on her shoes.

“Ellie-“ You sigh choking back a shit ton of tears.

Even though you didn’t explicitly tell Ellie that you’re home she assumed. She could hear a few girls in the background talking so she just took that as a sign.

Ellie talks again. Opening her dorm room door. “It’s okay i’ll be over in like 10 minutes bab-“

Ellie hung up before she could even finish her sentence and now you’re again left with your thoughts.

And that’s when you finally come to the conclusion.

You’re 100% the problem.

You’ve taken Emily and Ellie’s feelings for granted and it’s showing.

You lost Emily and you’re not exactly sure why Ellie sticks around. It doesn’t feel fair to hold both of them by a thread and it was proven when Emily’s broke.

Now it was only time till Ellie’s did.

At least that’s what you were starting to believe.

“Baby..” Ellie sighs leaning into hug you. Putting her skateboard to the side.

You can only respond by hugging her back tears now starting to fall.

“What happened?” Ellie ask pulling back and wiping your tears accompanied with light kisses to the nose.

“Emily..you don’t have to worry about her anymore-“ You clear your and rub your eyes.

“I don’t think we’re friends anymore.” You say trying to plaster a fake smile. Causing Ellie to frown.

Ellie could honestly care less if Emily left, it’s the state that she sees your left in which hurts.

Your hands are shaking when they wrap around her, tears are flowing, and the confident tone she can distinct you for, is gone?

It feels like you’re leaving her, pushing back.

“I’m so sorry-“ Ellie try’s but you wave your hand dismissively.

“No-it’s fine. Really.” You say.

“Why’d she leave.” Ellie ask.

“I told her we-“ You start.

Ellie cuts you off with yet another hug. You can feel her shake her head on your shoulder.

She doesn’t need an explanation. She can use context clues to understand why Emily decided to leave.

But that’s when you finally spit it out.

What’s been going through your mind.

“I can’t do this Ellie.”

You look straight at her.

“What do you mean you can’t do this..?” Ellie now ask.

“You need someone who is good for you. Dina said it and she was right..i’m not good for you?..” You say.

“You can’t be serious.” Ellie looks straight at you.

“What-?” You breathlessly sigh.

“I’m not doing this with you again?” Ellie shakes her head.

And when she said that, you assumed she’d leave. Ending two relationships you had in just one night.

Even though on the contrary it seemed like this would be the worst thing to ever happen for you it gave comfort.

Because with no one around you can’t hurt anyone else…hypothetically at least..?

But Ellie doesn’t leave she just keeps going, and now it feels like her mouth and thoughts might just not stop.

Like she can’t control it.

“Why-why can’t you just understand I don’t fucking want anyone else?” Ellie’s at this point was begging.

Begging for you to understand.

“I’ll leave you alone- if you really do want me too.” Ellie says.

“But since we kissed it’s like the only thing I think about.” She needs you to get that she doesn’t want someone else.

She just wants you.

It’s the reason she’s been going through thick and thin for you. She just needs you to understand.

“I love you..?” It sounded more like a question then a statement.

Because Ellie hesitated to say it even though she meant it.

Plus it being the first time Ellie had ever said that to you made the whole situation all that more intense.

Because you don’t know if you can mentally accept the fact you just might love her back.

So you just look at her.

And now Ellie’s embarrassed.

Because never would she ever want you to feel forced to say it? I guess that’s why it hurt when you didn’t say it back.

Because if you’re not forced and you seemed to have no interest in saying it. You really didn’t love her the way she loved you. That hurt?

Because it put into reality you and Ellie truly weren’t on the same page.

That maybe she was imagining it-

Ellie probably didn’t notice that you conflicted gaze turned more into a determined one as she spaced out.

Because..

Your lips are suddenly on Ellie’s.

Ellie can only respond by pushing her lips hardly back on yours holding you cheeks not leaving room for her to pull back.

And with that, you finally something that’s been longing.

“I love you too.” You say into her mouth.

That’s all Ellie needed to hear to realize it wasn’t some fling.

You loved her.

And she wasn’t letting that go.

A/N -> I KNOW THIS IS BAD.

I DONT WANNA TALK ABT IT.

I literally had zero fucking clue how to end this shit so everything happens extremely fast.

(mainly because I was making the plot as I got to it! 🌚)

BUT! I was gonna do a sad ending where the reader ends up alone so be happy I didn’t stick with that. 🙂

Honestly I was just trying to close off this story so I can put my main focus on Fated Hearts Start With Fire since I have SOO much planned with that 🙏

But I hope you guys enjoyed reading because despite it being ass it is the last one for this series.

(Like and reblogs are always appreciated!)

Taglist : @bready101 @onlinelesbo @amberputh @seraphicsentences @a-little-bit-of-everybody @zoehxnji @graviewaviee @i-feel-violated @elliesexual @macaroni676 @liasxeatt @m4rshm3ll0

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