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#hes not ready for a relationship at that age
angelltheninth · 2 days
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“Please mark me, I want everyone to know I’m yours.” + Leon S. Kennedy but he's like mentor for the reader.
I see your vision Anon.
Pairing: Leon S. Kennedy x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, power dynamics, mentor/student relationship, slight age-gap, marking, possessiveness, cock riding, biting
A/N: I see your vision and raise you this little drabble.
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7. “Please mark me, I want everyone to know I’m yours.”
"You're insatiable." Leon grunted against your neck, ruting up into your pussy with near inhuman speed. "We're meant to train in here, instead you're letting me fuck your brains out. What to you have to say for yourself, after letting your mentor use your body like this."
You ran your fingers through his dirty blonde hair, struggling to balance on your knees. Leon had a point, you had to pay attention to the things he was teaching you. It wasn't your fault his fingers, his lips and the bulge in his pants was distracting you.
"Should I fuck you to make you focus?" He asked as a joke but it soon turned into you clinging onto him while he fucked you from below. Any clothes that was in the way way pushed aside, not fully taken off, it would be easier to get presentable again if someone were to walk in.
Bouncing on your superior's dick, your older, more experienced mentor was not one of the recommended ways to get a promotion.
"Quiet. Don't want to get caught like this do you little lady?" Leon played with your lips, running his fingers along the edges of them and dipping in slightly. You wanted to suck on them so bad. But if you couldn't and you couldn't be loud then...
"You can put your hand over my mouth. Make me stay quiet for you. And... please mark me, I want everyone to know I’m yours.” It will be more subtle then outright being seen, just as risky but you were ready for that risk. You were thrilled at it.
"You really want it? To be mine? Where to you want it? Here?" Your neck. "Here?" Your shoulder. "Here?" Your inner wrist. "All of the above?"
You nodded enthusiastically, "Everywhere you can. Everywhere that can be noticed."
"Aww, does that mean your boobs and thighs are off the table? They're my favorite but I'll make up for it by painting your pussy with my cum." You rolled your hips down at those words, taking him to his balls, right in time for the first bite to be delivered on the column of your throat.
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pseudowho · 12 hours
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Red
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Nanami Kento, the infamous Curse User, is finally captured and sentenced to death after years on the run. The reader feels her grasp on morality quickly unravel, when her ex-boyfriend breaks down any inhibitions she thought she still had.
Warnings: 18+, smut, MDNI, Bad!Nanami, really a reprehensible man, rough sex, bondage, forced orgasm, multiple sessions, coercion, dubcon, tw: gaslighting, tw: abuse, reader is obsessed and hopelessly in love, and Nanami Kento takes full advantage of that.
*I absolutely do not endorse a relationship like this, and I must insist that anyone who reads this sees it as the red flag it is...ANYWAY...*
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You felt sick to your stomach.
"They caught him. Did you hear?"
You stumbled through the rain, barely composed, your heart in your mouth. Anxious desperation clawed up your spine, on your way to get the fix that you had been withdrawing from for so long.
"Yeah, Gojo got him, obviously. No, no, he's alive, for now."
Mud spattered up the backs of your legs, tripping through puddles, passing under rain-hush willows, Torii gates, and so many graves filled by his hand. His hands that you knew. His hands that knew you, so intimately, a body and soul so untouched by anyone else ever since and ever again.
"Nanami Kento. The Nanami Kento...scheduled for execution. Finally."
You reached corridors, a caretaker shouting in indignation as you tracked mud all over his freshly polished floorboards. You gained speed, running, ready for his face his hands his smell his eyes his body his heart and yours that was always his forever his still his--
"You shouldn't go in there." Your hand retracted so briefly over the handle of the door to the execution chambers. Feeling cold drip down your spine, not knowing if it was rainwater, sweat, or Gojo's voice behind you, you shivered. You felt him approach. A long hand on your shoulder; protective, apologetic, grieving.
"I...I'm sorry. I didn't want it to be this way. But you shouldn't go down there. He's...bad for you." You sniffed, straightening yourself, steeling against him. Gojo was so insignificant to you in this moment. "Are you keeping watch? Is there anyone else?" Gojo sighed, knowing better than to argue with you, feeling dread creep through him regardless. He leaned back on the wall, hands in his pockets, eyes downcast. You heard your own heartbeat, amplified hummingbird's wings. You heard the rain, cleansing on the leaves, but weighing you down with your sin. You felt the thread on your finger, trapped beneath that door and running down the stairs.
"No. No, it's just me. I...understand. Whatever you want to do, I...I understand." You felt the ghosts in this corridor. You felt the footsteps long since gone. You felt the shadows of the other half of Gojo's soul. Ah, yes, you thought, raindrops running down your cheeks, you would understand, of course.
"There will be a gap in the guard. At midnight. Just five minutes. Ten, if you're lucky." Gojo turned, facing down the corridor. You could smell the regret. The weight of his own failures haunted him. He sensed your fingers grip the handle, squeezing down, taking your life into your own hands.
He would give you this, what he had prevented you from taking five years ago. He would not see another whole broken into halves. He would not regret, for a moment now or for years to come. Behind him, your other hand, cold and damp, reached out and squeezed Gojo's. He felt the farewell upon your skin. "Thank you, Satoru. I love you." "I love you, too. Be good." You wracked with need, trembling down those spiraled steps. They took you so deeply underground, that you could feel the earthen chill of ages past upon your skin, and you welcomed the death and rebirth, shedding the life you had left at the surface.
You knew Nanami Kento would, inevitably, be your downfall. And yet...you had shared a room with death so many times, now, that you would not fear him reaching for your hand. You paused near the bottom of the stairs, soaked in the soft orange glow of ten thousand illuminated paper charms. You felt him. He beat you to it. "I can smell you." Your knees almost buckled; that voice. It ran through you, spitting hot oil in cold blood. You flurried down the rest of the steps with numb feet, rounding the corner. The breath rushed out of you, into him, and he smiled at you, so much wider than he used to, all canines and white.
Nanami Kento was bound to a small chair, barely enough to hold the sheer width of him. In this short (long too long so long) five years, he had grown from a man, to a beast, his shoulders hulking and mountainous, scars littered across his forearms and collarbones.
His white shirt was bloodstained-- mostly someone else's, you assumed, but some from Kento himself. Kento was scuffed, bruised, red at the corner of his lip. His parting remained, disheveled from his capture. His harness, the brown leather soft and aged, strained against his chest and shoulders. His blunt blade rested, leant against the wall in a dingy corner of the room.
The only thing holding back what you knew would be Kento's enormous, overwhelming power, were the ropes that restrained him. You fingered at the blade of the Cursed tool in your pocket. He was...ethereally beautiful. You felt the last vestiges of yourself pass to him, blissfully unaware he would take so much more from you yet. His smile grew, eyes full of searingly cold ice, sneering at you as tears built in your eyes.
"You're crying for me?" He cooed, soft and mocking, "Why is that? You made your choice, all those years ago." "You were the one who left." "You were the one who stayed," he growled, lurching forwards against his bonds, chest heaving and straining, snarling. Expecting you to step backwards, instead, he felt the sick satisfaction of you stepping closer instead-- drawn in by his gravity. "You didn't give me a choice, Kento," you begged, shameless, "You didn't come for me. I couldn't find you." Kento huffed, scoffing, twisting against his restraints. "Fuck off," he scorned, spitting a wad of blood to the floor, "I came for you. The night I found you in Gojo's bed, of all people." You frowned, remembering the night Kento snapped and executed two dozen colleagues in his offices, years after leaving Jujutsu High. Remembering the news reaching you third-hand, through whispers in the corridors, as you had headed to Jujutsu High to see if anyone had heard from him. Remembering Gojo's grim confirmation, how you had collapsed in his arms, carved in two. Remembering how he had taken you home with him, tucked you into his bed, where you slept fitfully, alcohol-soaked to numb the nightmares. Your stomach filled with ice water. "You were-- you were there?" You choked, tears spilling over, "At Gojo's? You were there?" "Tell me," Kento commanded, his lip curled, "how many hours it was, after you heard? How many hours before you let Gojo Satoru fuck you like some desperate little whore? How many hours it was before I found you in his bed." You shook your head, brutally injured by his venom, punctuating him with sobs and denial as his voice rose.
"Three? Four? So devastated, it took another man fucking his seed into you before you could get over the loss of your lover? And you have the fucking audacity to come in here and cry over me?" Kento strained forwards, teeth bared as he sniffed deeply, breathing out with a satisfied smirk, a laugh, deep and smoky. "Can't smell him on you now, though," he mocked, filthy and merciless, "I thought he liked pathetic little scraps like you, but I suppose one fuck was enough to tell him you belonged to someone else, just as much as he did."
Kento already knew, of course, that Satoru would not have taken you even once. Kento felt his cock swelling against his thigh with your anguished begging. "Is that what he told you? To make you leave?" Your head swam with the revelation that Kento had come back for you, the rage that Satoru had lied and sent Kento away. You shook your head, dropping to your knees before him; desperate for his approval, full of dreadful fear of rejection.
"Nobody else," you pressed, crawling forwards and squeezing his thighs with cold little hands as he scoffed again, looking away, "ever. Kento. Ever, ever, for years. There won't ever be--" Kento suppressed his smirk, reeling you in after you bit so willingly. He leaned down to you, his cock twitching at the memory of the last time you knelt between his legs, looking up at him with wide wet eyes. He allowed his breath to ghost over your neck, seeing your skin prickle. He softened his face, nectar and promise in his eyes. "...you and Gojo...you didn't...?" His voice was soft, gentle, hopeful. Your head shot up, fingers digging deeper into his thighs as your eyes brimmed over again, thrilled by his belief, his trust in you. His lips were so close to yours, that you felt his hot ashen breath upon your tongue, dragon's fire, those whiskey-soaked eyes flicking across your face. God, if I'd known it would be this easy, Kento thought, maliciously possessive, I'd have let you find me years ago. His cock twitched at the feel of your hands clawing his thighs. He imagined fucking you down into the bed while you clawed at him, struggling, gasping and crying.
"Never," you promised, chasing his face with yours, while Kento withdrew just enough to maintain a teasing closeness, "he lied. He lied to you." Kento's cock twitched again, thirsty for your desperation.
Kento smiled again, that beautiful, cloud-parting smile, and you preened into him. He hummed, leaning forwards so briefly to brush his nose against yours. Your breath left you in a shudder as his voice passed over your lips;
"That's good...good girl. I couldn't bear to think of anyone else's hands on my beautiful girlfriend."
You sunk into his sudden warmth, your hands stroking up his thighs, his hips, up his ribs and shoulders. He allowed you to embrace him like this, for just a moment. Prickling with fear, you felt the frost form over him once more. Kento sneered again.
"...she's gone though, I think. Rotting here, festering with the dregs of Jujutsu Society. Willing to live and die a pawn. Scum. Less than scum."
Kento sighed, withdrawing from you fully, his back against the chair, turning his head as you tried to cup his jaw in your hands. He shook you off, face twisted with disgust. He was thrilled to watch a part of you shrivel and recoil, before reaching out harder, begging in fractured whispers, clawing for dry land.
"You had your chance. You're too wet for my life. You couldn't do what I do, live how I live. You couldn't lie, cheat, extort, torture, murder. You're too soft." Kento's lip curled in disgust as you pressed yourself between his legs, begging, beseeching, "To think of all the cum I wasted by fucking it into you." He hoped you couldn't feel him, hard and throbbing against your belly.
"--anything you want-- I'll do anything you want-- please--"
"Please what?" Kento shot, shaking the ropes around him with thick, scarred arms, "I'll be dead before dawn. And I want some peace and quiet. You're nothing to me now."
A part of you died, shattered by his rejection. Clapping a hand over your mouth, your shivers threatening vomit, you sat back on the floor, pressing your face into your knees, sobbing and abandoned for a second time.
"It's a shame," Kento scorned, tutting, "we were beautiful, once. But I'd rather die than have you be my only fucking option."
Kento felt you break, and it was delicious.
You shook within, panicking at his imminent second abandonment...but you were more determined than ever to prove yourself to him. You would sell your soul. You would sell the lives of your fellow sorcerers. You would sell your dignity, your self-respect, your whole being. Having Kento in any form, even this cold-hearted killer, was better than the agony of his death, where you would surely die with him.
From your pocket, hands shaking, you withdrew a blade; a special grade cursed weapon, stolen, illicit. You reached around Kento, breathing deeply of the sweat, sandalwood and copper tang on his skin. You pressed the blade into the hands bound behind his chair. You turned, hesitated...and walked away.
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You could not bear to return to your apartment. You had staggered past Gojo, reeling from Kento's biting rebuttal. You had wiled away the evening in some backwater ditch of a bar, sinking into spirits and self-loathing.
You waited to be found...by him, or by your colleagues, for execution as an accomplice to his escape. You didn't care anymore. You would die at his hands, or theirs, and cling onto that final shivering bliss of his bound body against yours. Even as a good man, he had always possessed you, more than you possessed yourself.
Walking to your door just after midnight, fumbling with the keys, you let yourself in, to spend a final night alone before your inevitable execution.
The alcohol numbed your senses, the darkness close around you. You did not feel his approach, this killer in the shadows.
All at once, you felt an enormous hand clasp over your mouth, and another pinning your wrists behind your back, tugging you backwards against a body, such an immovable chilly presence. A whisper, a tongue grazing against the side of your throat.
"I want you screaming...but not yet." You arched back into Kento's body, seeking a warmth he didn't have any more. The man you knew was long-since dead.
You felt his hand loosen, drifting slowly from your mouth, to your throat, squeezing just tightly enough to make your breath hitch, examining the length of your throat from the outside with a hum. You smelled the cigarettes and whiskey on his breath.
"I'm so proud of you," Kento purred, stepping you slowly through your apartment, pushing you towards your bedroom, "such a good girl...I knew you'd pass the test." Your heart swelled with his praise, but a lingering doubt soured the edges of your tongue.
"--how did you-- s'too early, Kento-- the guard--"
"Guard?" Kento laughed, booming with genuine mirth, "Some scrap of a boy in a beanie? Please. They'll find what's left of him in the morning."
"Oh--Ino--" you felt tears prickle on your lash line, your breath leaving you with a gasp as Kento tossed you face down on your bed. You tried to turn back to look at him, but felt his hand grip the back of your neck, shoving you roughly into the sheets. You shivered, fingers clenching as you heard the telltale clink of his belt undoing, the soft shhhk-shhhk-shhhk of Kento unthreading it from his waist.
"Oh, Ino!" Kento mocked, "Shut the fuck up, before I make you shut up," his voice pitched and ruthless. His face twisted as you trembled, noting smears of blood left by his hands on your wrists. You smelled the copper tang over his sweat and stale cologne. You knew you would never reject him, already wet with the promise of him coming back for you.
Kento softened momentarily, knowing he would struggle to fit inside you if you were scared and trembling. The faintest ghost of him wanted to pull you into his arms. The ice over his old soul knew he'd break if it cracked.
Kento crawled over you, his black trousers unzipped, cock straining against the tight fabric of his boxers. He clasped your hands, binding them with his tie to the head of the bed. You were so ready for him to take back what was his, that you didn't hear his next words, rumbling and gravelly on the back of your neck.".
"Keep still, and do as you're told. I'm sure you remember the old safe word...if I care to listen."
You felt your skirt forced up to bunch around your waist, heard a fabric rrriiip of your tights and underwear being shredded away from your core. Kento breathed heavily as he knelt above you, hooking his cock and heavy balls out, stroking himself with one thick hand as his fingers jabbed between your legs, sinking between your folds with little to no regard for your pleasure.
You jolted, squeaking against the sudden intrusion. Kento letting out another rich, smoky laugh as he sunk two thick fingers into your entrance.
"...ahhh, lovely. Can you warm my fingers up for me?" Kento laughed again, drawing out into a stilted growl as he jerked his cock eagerly to your tight wet walls around his digits. You panted into the sheets, Kento releasing his cock you squeeze your arse as he fucked you with his fingers, leaving bruising fingerprints before slapping the skin harshly, groaning as your fat jiggled, flushing with the abuse.
"-- better than some common whore...shit. Such a good girl...getting me out of there. Maybe I'll keep you around...just to fuck, my sweet little cocksleeve. Or are you better than that?"
"--anything, I'll be anything you want-- Kento-- please please take me with you please--" Pleasure burned in your belly as you heard the wet slaps of his hand, masturbating himself again to the sight of his fingers moulding you to the shape of him.
You filled with a burning need to be what he wanted you to be, so exhausted by life, so bitter and ready for someone else to take control. Kento did so, gladly, withdrawing his fingers to your disappointed groan. He slapped your backside again in punishment, once, twice, three times until you learned your lesson, biting your lip against your cries.
"You'll come on my cock, or not at all," he snapped at you, impatient, with his pre-cum dripping down your folds as his cock grazed at the entrance to your prone, bound body. He rammed his fingers into your mouth, forcing you to lick him clean, low voice husky with need at the feeling of your tongue swiping over him.
Pressing one hand down on the back of your neck, before raising it to yank sharply on your hair, Kento fucked into you without warning, pressing hard, to bottom out immediately. Your scream was choked, your neck hyperextended back at the insistent pull of your hair. Your body ached and strained against his use of you, and you revelled in it, in too deep to care about how wrong it was. You stung with the size of him, always big, and so much bigger without preparation.
"--haaaah fuck-- good girl...fuck you through it-- fuck you through it-- scream all you like-- been waiting for this for so long--" Kento crushed your body flush under his, so heavy that he forced the air out of you, making you lightheaded against the raw pleasure of his cock pounding into you without mercy, simply chasing his own orgasm.
Kento's skin electrified with the sinful joy of stealing pleasure from you, ripping his shirt and harness off over his head with a fractured growl. He gripped your bound hands, slipping a hand under you to squeeze your throat, his hips slapping into you with agonising bliss. He cursed and spat against the pleasure, demeaning you and praising you in equal measure.
Breathing hard and fast, Kento saw a bead of his sweat fall to the back of your neck, and leaned down to bite you there, hard, mounting you like an animal as he fucked you harder, faster. Your clit throbbed, untouched, but you lost yourself in the deep primal ecstasy coiling in your belly. You felt the telltale twitches of his thighs and abs against your legs and back, knowing from his frantic jagged moans that Kento was about to cum, before remembering--
"Ken--Kento--oooh--ooh, Ken," you cried, whimpering as his cock bullied against your cervix, "...'m not-- not on-- pull out Ken--"
Kento jerked and groaned, grinning that wide sharp-canined grin again, his laugh leaving him in ragged breaths as his balls drew up close, ready to spill; "--fuck...pull-out? Not a--haaah-- fucking chance, without the safe word, sweetheart." Kento fucked you faster, challenging you as your cock-addled brain clasped at straws, trying desperately to remember, fuck what was it--
Kento gasped, his orgasm starting to wash over him, "Too late," he jeered, and came with a broken hushed roar, rutting his cock inside you so his seed would spurt, coating you, thick and sticky, all over your deepest walls. Kento didn't give a shit that you hadn't come-- and neither did you, trembling and mewling as his length jerked thick heavy ropes inside you.
As Kento pulled out, breathing hard, pumping his length a few more times to spill his last drops of seed across your back, he huffed out a humourless laugh, running his hand back through his hair; "'Pull out'...you'll take what I give you, and be grateful." Kento scooped up some seed, dripping from your cunt, shoving it roughly back inside you.
"What fucking use are you," he spat, ramming his fingers in you until you sobbed, squirming around him, "if you can't even keep my cum inside you? Pathetic." Your breath hitched, tears spilling over at his brutal mockery. Seeing your tears, hearing the lump in your throat, Kento cooed at you, clasping your jaw in one thick hand.
"Oh darling...don't be sad...just be better." He slapped at your cheek a few times, too stinging to be tender, pressing a hot wet kiss just beneath your eye. He stood up, stretching, padding over towards the door.
"I need a drink." Kento mused aloud. You pulled yourself up the bed, still tightly bound, clamping your legs together to keep his cum inside and win his approval. You almost wept with the bitter ache in your shoulders and arms, how your pussy stung, how worthless he thought you were. You heard the clink of bottles and glass in the kitchen.
Kento returned, sitting in the chair at the end of your bed, naked, legs crossed, as he poured himself a full glass of whiskey. You could not see him, your face pressed into the pillow. You couldn't see the cold, impassive gaze upon your bound, shivering form. You couldn't see the way he idly played with his cock, slowly stroking life back into it as his cum glistened on your folds.
"Let's play a game," Kento proposed finally, as sleep began to creep across you, "and if you win, I'll take you with me. If you lose, I'll leave you here for the dogs." Kento took a long drink, draining his glass with a satisfied hum, his cock now half-erect against his thigh.
Your determination peaked again, so certain you could make things right, and make Kento love you like he used to. You were a void, yearning to be filled.
"Yes, I-- I can do it-- anything," you pressed, voice strong and bold now, eager to shed the shell he had left you in. Kento refilled his glass, almost to the brim, grinning wolfishly. He reached into your bedside drawer, tipping his head and raising his eyebrows at you with a smirk, withdrawing a vibrator, and a dildo.
"So confident," Kento teased, a shadow of the way he used to play with you when he was softer, more restrained. He couldn't deny the flicker of joy he had felt at the old you, briefly rearing her head.
Kento emptied his hands for long enough to flip you to your back, binding your arms to the bed again, ripping your shirt and bra open at the middle, exposing your breasts and belly. Kento grabbed your nipple roughly, yanking it until you squealed, slapping it hard with a gravelly chuckle.
"Don't spill my drink." Kento ordered, picking his glass up, placing it on your chest, between your breasts. You faltered, stock still, staring up at him, uncertain.
"...I-- what?" Kento's slim brown eyes burned down at you, teasing the dildo against your sloppy cunt, before ramming it into you. You instinctively moved to squirm away with a cry, understanding almost a moment too late, the meniscus of the whiskey kissing the lip of the glass. You stilled completely, shuddering at the cold rubber filling your cunt to the belly, squelching with Kento's cum.
Kento hissed between his teeth, face twisted with nasty glee. He looked so animated, so alive with this hedonistic torture, such a far cry from who he once was.
"Close," he taunted, leaning down to brush his lips over yours, pulling away as you moved to kiss him, satisfied to hear you swear under your breath as he denied you. Kento flipped the wand vibrator in his hand deftly, switching it on and clicking to max out the vibration.
"Don't...spill my drink." Kento repeated slowly, pressing the brutally vibrating wand directly against your clit.
You saw stars, your body moving to convulse reflexively, and you gritted your teeth, eyes fixed on the wobbling glass on your sternum. Your legs shook, the pleasure too harsh to be enjoyable, feeling yourself being unwillingly dragged towards a bone-wracking orgasm.
"Kento please-- please stop please please-- I can't do it I can't keep still I can't--" You babbled at Kento, tears streaming, certain he may not acknowledge your safe word even if you did squeeze it out. Only your desperation to win him back stopped you from even trying.
"Then die here." Kento shrugged, stroking himself again as he pressed the wand harder against your clit, thrilled to hear you scream in anguish. Your orgasm hit you with stunning force, harsh wracks of pleasure pounding through you as your body remained rigid. Still, the whiskey did not spill.
Your teeth gritted around your cries, and you met Kento's eyes with a ferocity that used to make him hard in seconds. His cock twitched in his hand in memory, pre-cum dripping down to wet his fingers. Baring his teeth in a snarl now, Kento knelt between your legs, grabbing the dildo and fucking it into you with harsh strokes, pressing harder with the punishing vibrations of the wand.
Your body was on fire, every part of you burning, from bruised bound wrists, to your feet, crackling with electric overstimulation. You cursed, spitting out tearful bile at Kento.
"--Kento-- stop it-- you fucking monster-- I hate you-- you fucking left me and I hate you so just stop it--"
Kento grinned, growling out as he continued his messy overstimulation of you; "There! There she is! That's my girl...make me proud!...shit, you're a mess. Don't spill it now." As another orgasm hit you, a primal hideous landslide, you screamed with your head thrown back, woefully unable to dissipate the pleasure through movement.
Suddenly full of unbridled rage, the years of grief and abandonment pouring out of you, you snapped, certain you wanted to hurt him as he had hurt you.
The glinting madness in Kento's eyes, the way his hand worked his rigid cock harder as he released his grasp on the dildo, now ramming it back into you with his knee...he wanted this. He wanted you pouring with spite. With rage. He wanted the venom and the hatred. He wanted the raw unbridled loyalty that you promised him through this humid obsession.
"--let me go-- KENTO. I'm warning you--"
Kento laughed, rich and earthy, as he gripped you by the throat, pinning you to the bed. Your body was exhausted, groaning, all bone-deep and guttural aches. By the time your third orgasm hit, you were floppy, the whiskey glass tilting on you just too sharply--
--before being snatched up by Kento, who drained it in one thirsty gulp. Pulling the sex toys out of you and tossing them aside, Kento moved to line his cock up with your entrance. Full of tearful anger, you kicked, hard, fighting back against him as he laughed, encouraging you-- "Fight me-- come on girl, COME ON--"
Kicking out again, spitting acid at Kento, berating him for leaving you, berating him for the twisted hatred you had endured alone for the miserable job you did, you cried, all bitter spite and loneliness. Kento caught your legs, forcing them open, pressing himself between them. He jabbed his cock between your folds as you squirmed, struggling up the bed, until Kento folded over you, grasping you by the back of the neck, and pulling you up for a searing kiss-- the first time you had tasted him in years.
Kento took advantage of your gasp, and invaded you with his tongue and cock, fucking sloppily between your legs, cursing into your mouth, until he met your entrance, slamming himself in to the hilt. Kento gripped you by the hips, thrusting into you while he slammed your pussy against him. He immediately set a feral pace, intent on claiming the last scraps of you, if he couldn't get you out of Jujutsu society alive. "--not gonna-- haaah-- let you die here-- fuck, good girl, good fucking girl, take it-- FIGHT ME--"
Every time you tried to buck and kick, and throw him out of you, Kento cupped your jaw, kissing you just like he used to, disarming you as you bit into his forearm planted beside your cheek. Kento kept up his punishing pace, reaching up to release the belt as he groaned into your throat, biting the delicate skin there. The briefest flicker of warmth passed over him, to feel your hands clutch at his chest, still trying weakly to push him off you. Kento reveled in your fight, your incessant struggling beneath him making his need to cum, to fill you again and make you his, urgent. You felt this in him, in his trembling arms and sloppy thrusts, all at once splitting you in two and completing you. Relenting, you allowed him to claim your mouth again, lips smooth and supple against yours, whiskey on his breath. Kento couldn't last any longer, and didn't want to; he finished with a broken rumble, all groans and whispered curses in your hair. Crushing you to the bed beneath his hulking body, you whimpered to feel his cock twitch and bound inside you, filling you again with sweet ache and seed. Kento rested on you, ignoring your gasping little breaths as you saw stars, buried beneath him. Swallowing away the lump in your throat, your mind swam with your fates; killed in battle or executed or on the run or hiding with filthy curse users or begging the higher-ups for mercy but all alone every one of them alone-- "...come with me." You blinked. Kento's back still heaved with exertion, his face buried in your neck. You felt a twinge, a prickle down your spine-- Cursed energy, approaching from a distance. "You have to decide...there's no time. I lie. I steal, and extort. I blackmail. I murder. I live in...in absolute luxury. You will never want for anything, while you're with me-- but you must be with me." You smiled. Another door had opened. Kento was the easiest decision you ever made.
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thugpugs4lrh · 3 days
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little!matt having a panic attack during a podcast and cg!reader helping calm him down maybe?
Relax, Baby
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Summary: Anxiety can be really, really hard, but with your help, Matt knows he'll always be okay<3
Pairing: Little!Matt x gender neutral and caregiver!reader
Warnings: Panic attack
Word Count: 894
A/N: As always, age regression is a nonsexual and innocent coping mechanism. Also, I am not saying or assuming this is how Matt is irl. It's fiction. If you don't like it, don't read it :) Enjoy!
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Anxiety and panic attacks had been a struggle in Matt’s life for quite some time now. He always thought too much about how people felt about him and how he was perceived, which would usually lead to him having a rather bad panic attack. You had known this going into your relationship with the boy, and together, you two had worked to find a solution that would help him heal and calm down.
When you had first suggested the idea of age regression to Matt, he had heavily refused, insisting that he didn’t need to be babied. With some gentle coaxing, you had gotten him to just try it, only for Matt to realize just how much regressing helped. Allowing someone else to take the reins for a bit, while he went back to a peaceful, childlike state, was like a breath of fresh air. Whenever he slipped into littlespace, Matt could feel the tension leaving his body, especially when he cuddled up with you. But littles were people with big emotions, and on days like today, those emotions took over everything else. 
The triplets were getting ready to film a new episode for Cut the Camera, and Matt was less than excited. Nick and Chris had been getting on his nerves all morning, calling him things like ‘Miserable Matt’ and ‘Mumble Matt’. Normally, this wouldn’t really bother him and he’d just make a joke back, but today, he’d been feeling extra anxious since the moment he’d woken up. Matt sat in his chair in front of the mic, fiddling with the stuffed flamingo he kept there for comfort. His mind was anywhere but the episode; instead, he was thinking about you upstairs in your cozy, shared bedroom. You had been disinfecting his stuffed animals when he came downstairs to film, and all he wanted was to be cuddled up in your arms again, covered up with his woodland animals blanket, paci in his mouth, and Mr. Wrinkleton in his hand. 
“God, Matt,” Nick interjected. “Are you even paying attention?”
Matt flushed scarlet, his ears and cheeks going red. “Um…what was the question?” he asked quietly, biting at his cuticles. 
“Kid can’t even remember the question,” Chris rolled his eyes. “Too busy being ‘Miserable Matt’ to pay attention.”
“I’m not being miserable,” Matt huffed. “I was just thinking.”
“About your significant other treating you like a fucking baby? Don’t think we haven’t noticed.” Chris bit back. 
That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Matt hastily pushed his chair back, already sobbing and struggling to breathe. He had been on the verge of panic all morning, and now that Chris had spewed his deepest secret on camera, there was no going back. The brunette ran up the stairs, trying not to hyperventilate as he burst through the bedroom door. You looked up from the desk where you were working, glancing at Matt’s huddled form on the bed, his body shaking with tears. 
“Honey, what’s wrong? I thought you guys were filming?” You asked, checking the time on your phone as you rushed to Matt’s side. 
Matt just sobbed, his wails ricocheting around the room. His hands had moved to tangle in his hair as he hyperventilated, eyes wide with panic. You could see it in Matt’s glazed over eyes that he wasn’t fully ‘there’, whether that be from the panic or from slipping into littlespace. Either way, you knew you had to help him. You gently removed Matt’s hands from his hair as he wailed, holding them softly. 
“Matt. You are panicking. You need to breathe,” You instructed, placing one of his hands on your chest. “In for four, out for four. Copy me.”
Matt tried his best to copy you, and his cries slowly reduced to little sniffles and hiccups as he latched onto you, thumb migrating to his mouth. “Hate Chris. Hate him.” he mumbled, suckling on his thumb as his babyspace lisp made an appearance. 
“Oh sweetheart,” You cooed sadly. “Is that what’s got you so upset?”
Your boy sniffled again, laying his head down on your shoulder. “Feels sicky.”
You pouted, knowing that Matt tended to get nauseous during and after a panic attack, and especially after a fight with his brothers. You didn’t ask what had gone on between him and Chris for fear of upsetting, but you knew the conversation would need to happen eventually. You just moved towards the bed, laying down with Matt and tucking him in next to you. You handed him his water bottle and Mr. Wrinkleton off the nightstand, watching for any signs of another impending panic attack. 
“Can you drink some water, baby? Just a little?”
Matt nodded, taking a few small sips, before cuddling up with his stuffed animal. A great yawn escaped his mouth as you handed him his blue, decorated pacifier that read ‘Baby Boy’ on it. It wasn’t long before your boy was cuddled into your side, snoring softly while clutching his stuffie and suckling away on his pacifier. You knew that you would have to find out what Chris had done in order to make Matt so upset, but for now, you just focused on cuddling the sleeping baby beside you.
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tags ♡: @jake-and-johnnies-slut @mattsfavwh3re @suyqa @chrissturnswife @mbsbaby @herxyz @lovingchrissposts @caffeinatedscorpio @bunny-cotton @crazychrisl0v3r @sturnioloxlver @whicked-hazlatwhore @blahbel668 @junnniiieee07 @biggesthat3r @sturniolowhore @ginswife @emmagirouard @athaliahxoxo @bitchydragonparadise @ilydeaky @soggyslugg169 @not-phone-guy @books0fever @stingerayyy2 @sunsetsturniolos @mimi-luvzyu @faygo-frog @oobleoob @runasvengence @aemrsy
note ♡: my taglist is closed for the time being, thank you so much for your support 💐🧸🎀
159 notes · View notes
spatialwave · 3 days
Note
I can’t stop thinking about Angus with a childhood best friend!reader. (I imagine she would go to a different private school so they could only see each other over the summer and talk through letters and calls)
oh my god this is soooo good! you, my dear anon, have a beautiful mind. 🤍
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𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐧𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐧𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐰.
notes: angus tully x fem!reader || 3.1k words || dividers by @cafekitsune
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you and angus had been best friends since kindergarten, inseparable through hundreds of playdates from the ages of five to fifteen. you two were attached to the hip and anyone could see the bond that blossomed between the two of you. he was everything to you and you were everything to him.
you remember the first day you met, early november and a chilly day on the playground. you were bundled up with a big coat and mittens while poking and prodding at some flowers that were slowly dying—signalling the freezing weather that would arrive at any moment.
"my mom told me those kinds of flowers are weeds." a voice spoke from beside you, a boy your age with wildly, curly hair and big brown eyes. he wasn't looking at you, but at the wilting flower.
"pretty weeds," you murmured as your gaze turned back to the same flower.
"yup," he replied, the two of you kneeling there in silence as the school bell rang. neither of you moved until one of the teachers found you both and ushered you inside—you sat next to each other for the rest of the year; the history of your friendship.
angus was there when you were twelve years old and experienced your first adolescent heartbreak. a boy one year older who had kissed you and told you he loved you; then kissed one of your other so-called friends the same day with the same words. back then it shattered your entire being and angus was there to help you pick up the pieces and put your poor little heart back together until it was beating again.
and whenever he was feeling sad, which happened a lot after his dad was put in a sanitarium, you were there at his house with some popcorn and ready to watch whatever movie would air that evening. sometimes you two would listen to a record and simply exist together—being near each other made him feel better.
hell, he was even there when you got your first period when you were visiting his family. you remember how both of you started screaming when you told him you were bleeding, crying as you convinced yourself you were dying until his mom came to the rescue. she had to explain biology more thoroughly than your health teacher did, which only embarrassed you and made angus start asking a flurry of questions about it. from then on, once a month, he'd be there with whatever you needed; junk food, chocolate, and a hot water bottle.
your lives were so intertwined that you knew every little detail about each other. well, mostly. there was one moment that you kept from him in the vastness of your relationship, how his first kiss made you boil with jealousy.
you pushed that feeling far away and focused on the positives of your friendship as years passed and life slowly felt more and more complicated.
it was in your freshman year of high school when he first started acting out, even when you offered all the support you could muster up. he was kicked out of your school at fifteen, then another in the same year. the following year he almost made it the entire schooling term before he was finally sent off to a private boarding school—completely uprooted from the friendship you two had together.
that was your first real heartbreak.
his too.
angus beat himself up about it during the sleepless nights at barton, devastated that he couldn't even see you on weekends like he used to. knowing that you were in your senior year and he was lagging behind as a junior because of his expulsions. there was a drift happening in your friendship and it was because of him. all because he couldn't keep his emotions in check.
you couldn't blame him and you wouldn't, you made that apparent with the letters you sent him. making sure he never once felt alone in his struggles.
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"𝙷𝚒 𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚜,
𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝙱𝚊𝚛��𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕. 𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚂𝚌𝚘𝚝𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚢 𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚞𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚕 𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢. 𝙳𝚒𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚛 𝚢𝚎𝚝? 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚊 𝚌𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚢 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚊𝚗, 𝚒𝚝 𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚖𝚎 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚊 𝙲+. 𝙸 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚝, 𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚂𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝙺𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢?
𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎, 𝚈/𝙽."
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it was these letters that kept him afloat during those days in the week that made him want to give up and run away, or worse, get expelled and sent to fork union. he kept every single letter from you and hid them underneath his mattress. if kountze were to see them that would be the end of it, so he made sure to read them only when everyone was asleep—he always had the best dreams after.
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"𝙷𝚒, 𝚈/𝙽,
𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗'𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚢𝚎𝚝, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚏 𝙸 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚂𝚌𝚘𝚝𝚝, 𝚜𝚘 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙. 𝙱𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝙾𝙺, 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚎, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚏 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗. 𝙸 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚎𝚝 𝙸'𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚂𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝙺𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚜. 𝙼𝚢 𝚖𝚘𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚕𝚎𝚢 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚠𝚎'𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊 𝚏𝚎𝚠 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚘 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝙱𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚘𝚗, 𝙸'𝚖 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜. 𝙸 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘𝚘.
𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎, 𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚜."
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hearing from him always made your stomach flutter and left your heart aching deeply for him. it was melancholic, wishing more than he could be back by your side while trying to be content with a letter from your love... your love?
those feelings had been building up inside you for months—years.
it left you awake at night, wondering if angus felt the same or if you would remain nothing more than friends for the rest of your life. you couldn't be upset with the latter, angus was your best friend and you would never let yourself lose that.
yet, you yearned for him. for the possibility of something more. you dreamt of what it would be like to kiss him, but those thoughts diminished quickly because you felt guilty. you shouldn't have those feelings for a boy who's only your best friend.
a few weeks had passed and you hadn't written a letter back because school was hectic and the gloominess of winter had left you with little energy. you and angus could sometimes go weeks without hearing from each other, but it was never intentional. it wasn't until your first night home during the christmas holidays that you realized you'd never written him back. you had only started scribbling a letter when the phone rang.
"it's angus!" your mother called from the kitchen on the first floor. that's when you remembered the promise he made in your letters. he'd be visiting soon!
"coming!" you called back as you rushed down the stairs so fast your mother had chastised you for nearly running your little brother over. you pressed the phone against your ear, lips curved into a big smile as you caught your breath, "angus, when are yo—"
"i won't be visiting," his voice said quietly, a bit crackly through the phone and deeper than you remembered it being when you last spoke. your brows furrowed together at his words and you were filled with nothing short of confusion and disappointment, hand clutching tight the phone in your hand as your other absently fidgeted with the cord.
"what do you mean? you promised me you would, angus." you said to him, your voice sharper than you meant for it to sound, "is saint kitts really that much more important?"
silence.
"my mom and stanley are going without me," he replied and it was then you could hear in his voice that he was fighting back tears. his heart was broken and you weren't there to pick up the pieces. you filled with dread and guilt for your snappy words, feeling the aching of his heart in your own.
"what?" you questioned, leaning back against the wall and tilting your head up, eyes fixating on the ceiling where you could see a water spot forming from the old piping in your home.
"yeah, they decided now was the fucking time to take their honeymoon. can you believe that? they ditched me and went to saint kitts without me and left me at barton," he said, his voice growing angrier with each passing second, "the worst part is that i didn't care about saint kitts, i just needed to see you," his voice cracked again.
tears pricked at your eyes and your mom, who had been eavesdropping, had decided to let you have privacy in the kitchen as she escorted your brother to the playroom. you sniffled and wiped away the tears with the sleeve of your sweater, shaking your head in disbelief.
"i miss you so much, angus, it physically hurts," you whimpered into the phone and it was then you couldn't help but start crying. the sounds made his heart ache.
"i know, i'm so sorry."
the two of you were only on the phone for a few more minutes because angus had heard one of the other holdovers coming down the hall. you didn't question it, a school full of boys meant that crying around others was asking for a death wish.
when all you could was hear the dial tone, a quiet 'i love you' escaped your lips.
pathetic.
four days passed and tomorrow was christmas eve; you'd never felt so empty in your entire life. you hadn't heard from angus since your last phone call and it was like all joy and happiness had been sucked out of your soul. your mother, who often liked to call you dramatic, didn't dare say a peep.
you had been laying in bed all morning, doing nothing except falling back asleep or staring out your bedroom window and watching a soft flurry of snow falling. you promised yourself to write angus a letter today, but you weren't entirely sure that you would be able to without breaking down and sobbing. your eyes were already puffy from crying yourself to sleep, you couldn't risk them hurting anymore.
"sweetie?" the voice came with a knock on your door. your mother, her voice as sweet as cinnamon. you didn't answer as the door creaked open.
"i'd like for you to come for a drive with me, if that's alright."
"no."
"i'm not leaving until you come with me."
"fine."
you were bundled up in a big coat as you sat in the passenger seat of your mother's station wagon, your forehead pressed against the window as you watched the snowfall. you hadn't really been paying much attention to where you two were going or how long you'd been driving, figuring that sooner or later your mother would pipe up and ask about you. this was always her way of understanding your emotions, it always worked. you always managed to spill your guts to her while in the passenger seat.
"do you love him?" she asked quietly, her eyes flickering toward you.
"what?" you became defensive, sitting upright and glaring daggers at her, "no. i mean yeah. of course i love him he's my best friend. just... nothing more. nothing like that!"
"so you do." she smiled, admiring you as she focused her attention back ahead, fingers gently tapping against the steering wheel as she hummed softly, "i'm taking you to barton."
"what?!" you screeched, your heart pounding hard in your chest, "you're telling me that now? you should've let me get ready! god, he's going to think i'm a mess!" you grumbled as you pulled down the visor and looked into the mirror, trying desperately to make your hair behave and wipe away the tiredness from your eyes.
"he's not going to care what you look like, darling." your mother said with a sigh.
"okay, well i care what i look like!"
"stop being so dramatic."
on the way to barton, your mother told you what she had planned behind your back, she called the school and managed to speak with a lady named miss lamb and explained the situation. according to your mother she sounded very excited that you would be visiting angus—it was likely that he was being just as pouty and sad as you were, if not more.
it made you wonder how lonely he'd been. should you have called more?
your hands were shaking as you pulled up to the school, your entire body nearly vibrating as you stepped out of the car and did one more fix on your hair. you were excited to see him, but why were you nervous? you had never been nervous about seeing him, why was this different?
an older woman who you could only presume was miss lamb greeted you at the main entrance, ushering you in quickly. you sighed softly when the cold air was no longer nipping at your skin, but instead, you were filled with that familiar feeling of nervousness once again.
"i think angus is up in one of the classrooms right now. he's been hiding himself away since he's been here with just me and mr. hunham. the poor boy got left behind here while the other boys were able to go spend the holidays at a ski hill," she said, glancing at you a few times as you followed her, fidgeting with your hands nervously. you hadn't realized until now that your mother had stayed in the foyer. miss lamb spoke up again, disturbing your thoughts, "he mentioned you the other day at dinner. was complaining to us about his situation and how he was supposed to visit his best friend... you know, i expected you to be a boy."
"yeah," you murmur as you ascend a staircase, "people always say that. a girl and a boy could never be just friends."
"mhm, it's hard for people to think that when they know what young love looks like," she hummed, avoiding your piercing gaze as she led you through the halls, "angus!" she called out as you two reached a hallway on the second floor, "where are you?"
"what do you need, mary?" his voice echoed from the last classroom on the right, his voice whiny and pouty.
you hadn’t moved so fast in your life. your legs picked up speed and mary turned the other way, satisfied with what she'd seen so far. she wasn't going to impose on a special moment. this was the happiest she'd felt in a long time, too.
"angus!" you called out as you sprinted ahead, nearly missing the door as you made a full stop under the door frame. you watched him as he turned his gaze, eyes moving from the window he'd been peering out of and over at you. you were blessed with the sight of seeing his big brown eyes soften and how a weight eased on his shoulders. he was gorgeous, the most beautiful man in the world and you weren’t going to leave barton until he knew that.
"what the hell are you doing here?" he asked, blinking a few times, as though he was hallucinating and afraid you weren't real, "christ–get over here."
he met you halfway as you bolted toward him, arms outstretched and wrapping around his waist as you buried your face into his chest. “i missed you so fucking much,” you whimpered, fingers tightening into fists as they gripped the back of his jacket. he smelled nice, like the cheap cologne you bought him last christmas; musk, cedar & notes of vanilla.
his own arms were around your shoulders, his face nuzzling against the top of your head as you two relished in each other’s presence.
it had been months. months that felt like a millennium.
“i missed you too,” he whispered against your hair, arms tightening around you briefly before easing up, “you look so pretty.”
you tilted your head back to look at him, your eyes glossy from the tears that spilled down your cheeks. you had parted your lips to say something back as your cheeks reddened from his compliment, but he didn’t give you the chance—rightly shutting you up with his lips.
it was then you fully understood how much you loved angus tully, less as a friend and more as a partner. a soulmate.
your lips moved together in desperation and need, kissing each other like you were lovers that had been separated for years. one of his hands had moved up to the back of your hair, fingers tangling, while the other gripped at your hip. both of your arms snaked around he neck, pulling him down so you didn’t have to stand on the tips of your toes to meet his lips.
this lasted for awhile, stopping only when you two had ran out of breath and were panting together.
“i love you,” you said first, your forehead pressing against angus’ as you looked deep into his brown eyes, “i’ve loved you for a very long time... too long.”
“me too,” he murmured in returned, the hand that was on your hip now caressing your cheek, his thumb gently grazing over your soft skin, “you’re the only reason it’s lonely here. seriously, i think i’m going mad without you,” he laughed breathily, bumping his nose playfully against yours.
“then i’ll make sure you don’t have to go without me too long,” your voice was soft as you spoke, unable to rid yourself of the big smile that plastered your lips, “maybe we can convince your teacher to let me stay for a night… or maybe you can spend christmas with us.”
“i want to go to boston with you,” he said quick, like he’d been waiting to say it.
you knew exactly what he meant. you knew everything about boston—you knew who was waiting in boston.
“okay,” you murmured, “let’s go to boston.”
you couldn’t promise that it would actually happen, how on earth would a chaperone let their student travel miles away to a city without them? you didn’t care about that right now. all you cared about was making sure that angus knew he had your support. that’s how being best friends worked.
you were there for each other. you were always going to help pick up each other’s pieces.
“kiss me again, angus.”
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catherinnn · 3 days
Text
Fears and Futures
summary: After hearing Steve's comments about a friend's unexpected pregnancy, you become fearful of your own uncertain future and start questioning the meaning and depth of your relationship with Eddie.
warnings: language, unexpected pregnancy (not reader), not actual smut talks about sex, talks about unprotected sex, a little angst but fluff overall, hurt/comfort.
words: 1.1k
a/n: a little something just cause I felt like writing and I wanted a little drama. not proofread cause I was tired :)
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He opens his door for you and you start feeling nervous. After he lets you in, you see he’s trying to greet you with a kiss, one which you stop before his lips touch yours.
He takes a step back and you see his face, filled with worry and fear.
“Eds, I came here to talk” you explain.
And now his face falls, he realized what you meant.
--
You’re currently at Steve’s house, hanging out with him Robin and Eddie.
“Hey, do you remember Rebeca Evans?” Steve asks.
“Yeah, she was a senior with Eddie and me” you answer.
“The first time I was a senior” Eddie jokes.
You and Eddie had been friends since high school —it’s safe to say you’re best friends actually—, it took Eddie a couple more tries to finish high school but he finally did it. ’86 baby! Now you’re studying and he started working as a mechanic.
A year ago you started some kind of… arrangement between you two, a friends with benefits kind of arrangement. It all started on a drunken night at a party and then you kept it going not only on drunken nights, but on your sober nights, or at any time for that matter.
“She’s pregnant” Steve announced, and then he complains when you say he’s the most gossipy of the group.
“What? Really?”
“Yeah, she went on a few dates with this guy but they didn’t really hit it off, but they kept hooking up a few times either way, and then it just happened”
“It didn’t just happened, Steve. Were they being safe?” Robin corrects him.
“She said they were, but the condom must have broken or something. Apparently they don’t provide 100% safety” he explained.
“God, she’s my age… and wasn’t she studying as well? She wasn’t working yet” you ask him.
“Yep, she was still studying. Imagine if it happened to you now, it would change your whole life” Steve comments.
“Yeah…” you start thinking how it would affect you, how much of an impact it would make on your life.
And suddenly you can’t stop thinking about it, fearing it. You’re not ready to have kids! But neither was Rebeca and then one day she woke up and she was.
The only person you’re having relationships with is Eddie, and similarly like Rebeca, you’re not in a relationship with him.
You don’t even really know if you want kids or not, but if you’d have them you’d imagine it at least be with someone you’re in love with.
Actually, let me paraphrase that.
At least it would be with someone you’re in a serious relationship with.
Because you do really like Eddie, but you know he doesn’t feel that way. So this arrangement was fine because of that, you know nothing more would ever happen so you’re not expecting it from him.
So for a few days you have been… you wouldn’t say ignoring him, but re-thinking some aspects of this arrangement… without answering his calls.
“Hey, Robs?” you pick up the phone.
“Fucking finally. Oh so you do pick up the phone to Robin?” You hear Eddie’s voice.
“Fuck- no, I was just waiting for her call. But I was gonna call you later” you lie- well, a few days can also mean ‘later.’
“Whatever, do you wanna come over?” he asks and you realize you are going to have to do this eventually.
“Yeah, sure”
When he opens his door for you, you start feeling nervous. After he lets you in you see he’s trying to greet you with a kiss, one which you stop before his lips touch yours.
He takes a step back and you see his face, filled with worry and fear.
“Eds, I came here to talk” you explain.
And now his face falls, he realized what you meant.
“Okay” he says either way.
“I’ve been- thinking a lot about this… Rebeca’s situation-“
“Oh, come on” he interrupts, “when Steve said it was similar to you it didn’t mean it was going to happen to you as well”
“But it could! Eddie, I’m also studying to become somebody, I’m also not working and with no intention on starting to soon, I’m also just twenty years old with no idea of what I want for my future, but I sure as hell don’t want a baby now. And it’s not like we’re being very careful, Eddie. For God’s sake, they were using a condom and it broke or just didn’t work, we’re not even doing that!” you explain.
“Okay, we can just be more careful, but we don’t have to stop all of this”
“That’s the other thing… she was also just hooking up with someone and now they’re bounded forever. She didn’t even like him that much and now she has a fucking kid with him!” you tell him and Eddie stays silent for a while, thinking of what you said.
“…Do you also feel that way?” he asks nervously.
“What?” you ask confused of what he means.
“Do you also… don’t even know if you like him?” he asks with a straight face this time, waiting for your answer.
“That’s not what I said”
“Okay, I’m asking you now” he kept insisting.
“Do you even feel that way?” you kept dodging his question. You weren’t going to admit to him that you liked him just for him to reject you.
He sighed, tired of this. “I fucking like you- I’m actually fucking crazy about you if I’m being honest. That’s why I’m trying to not break this whole thing up because it’s the only way I’m able to have you, even if it’s just sex and it shouldn’t mean anything”
“Are you- being serious?” you ask sceptical.
“Yes” he admits one more time.
It’s your time to sigh in frustration now, head back and everything. But because you can’t believe how stupid the two of you could be.
You run to him without saying a word and you see the confusion on his face, but you quickly grab it and pull him closer to finally give him that kiss. Only it’s with a passion and love that the first one wouldn’t have had, or maybe it would be hidden.
He kisses you back grabbing you by your waits and pulling you even closer.  
Pulling apart slightly, you look into Eddie's eyes where you find warmth, relief, and an unmistakable spark of love.
"I guess we've been idiots, huh?" you say, breaking the silence.
"Yeah, we have" Eddie replies with a small laugh, his eyes still locked onto yours.
“I’ll start taking the pill from now on” you can finally decide since now it’s no longer meaningless.
He smiles, leaning in to give you another lingering kiss, “Yeah, that’d be great”, he whispers against your lips.
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merakiui · 9 hours
Text
the birds and the bees.
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yandere!riddle rosehearts x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, slight dub-con, implied stalking, age gap (riddle is 19 and reader is 29) note - you're hired to teach riddle about the birds and the bees. you need the money. he needs to get laid.
The Rosehearts’s Residence looks about how you expected it to after driving past houses of similar size and grandeur. Unlike you, they’re definitely not strapped for cash. It’s an impressive structure with its elegant wrought iron gates and expertly trimmed hedges. You’re immediately overcome with bitter jealousy when you step through the entrance, passing rose bushes in full bloom. If only your apartment could look and feel as nice as this place. You almost wonder if you should keep Mrs. Rosehearts’s contact in case she ever needs a gardener or a window washer…
But then that risks your cover, and the last thing you want is to get tangled up in trouble with the upper middle class.
Gathering your courage, you smooth invisible wrinkles in your pencil skirt, steady your balance in your Mary Janes—both at socially acceptable lengths and heights—and bring your fist down against the door. Seconds after the third knock, it opens to reveal a woman who looks as prim and proper as the landscape of her home. She takes a long moment, drinking in your formal features, and then smiles approvingly.
“Ah, (Name), you’re early.”
You soften your face into something polite and demure. “Better early than late.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
She steps aside, gesturing for you to come in. You meander into the foyer and are instantly reminded of those exquisite house tours on MagiTube. There’s a fine layer of modest Victorian wealth to the decor. Flowery wallpaper, a lofty ceiling, an aureate chandelier, a vase filled with fresh tulips of all colors… Oh, how you wish you could live here!
“Your home is beautiful,” you comment as you straighten your bow headband.
“Why, thank you.” Her eyes light up once more. “I’ve always admired this neighborhood. Everything is so well-kept. Speaking of which, where did you say you’re from?”
“Oh, I’m actually getting ready to move back to school at the end of the summer,” you explain, narrowly dodging her question. No way I’m telling her I live in a not-so-affluent neighborhood… She’ll totally kick me out. “I’m staying with my parents in the meantime and working a few jobs to support myself.”
“And what was it you’re studying again?”
You paste a hollow smile on, sensing her distrust. I already told you this when we met at the clinic. Do I really seem so suspicious?
“I’m studying to be an ob-gyn.”
“A wonderful profession,” she praises, nodding to herself. “Very wonderful indeed. And how old are you? I merely ask to confirm. There are so many miscreants nowadays. You can never be too sure.”
“I understand completely, Mrs. Rosehearts. I’m—” you almost falter, your real age on the tip of your tongue— “twenty-two. What about your son? You told me he’s also looking to get into the medical field?”
“Not looking. He will pursue medicine,” she corrects sternly. “Just like his mother.”
You swallow your disgust and try not to let it show so openly. Yikes… Talk about controlling.
Mrs. Rosehearts waves you onwards down the hall. “My Riddle will be leaving for his first year of college at the end of August. Though I’m certain he’s more than prepared, it never hurts to review.”
“Absolutely. So you’d like me to give him the talk?”
“Not just that. I’d like you to teach him well enough so that copulation and any other libidinous ideas are the last things on his mind. Stamp them out if you must. He’s to focus on his studies and make good decisions just as I raised him.”
Shouldn’t he already be familiar with this? Besides, he’s not a kid. Of course he’s going to think about sex. Most of us do when we’re horny.
But you can’t say that outright, so you settle for something vastly different.
“It’s important to stay on the right path and be responsible.”
Mrs. Rosehearts nods her agreement. Your stomach twists in discomfort.
On second thought, I don’t want to be upper middle class if these are the people I have to deal with. Is this guy going to have any chance to be social? To live his life? To make and learn from stupid mistakes? I bet he can’t wait to get out of here and go off to school.
“I apologize if this is rude in any way, but I just want to ensure I’ll be paid accordingly.”
“Of course. Good work must always be recognized and rewarded.” She stops at a door. “I cannot thank you enough for lending my Riddle your time. Teach him well.”
“I’ll do just that. You can count on it.”
Pleased with the level of maturity you’ve displayed, she raps her knuckles against the door and calls out, “Riddle, the tutor’s here.”
“Very well, Mother. I’ve just finished today’s readings, so you can send them in,” comes a muffled reply.
Today’s readings? you think, perplexed. Your gaze slides from the door to Mrs. Rosehearts. Does she have this guy doing summer school? That must suck! What a shitty way to spend your summer, cooped up inside filling out workbooks and stuff.
“I’ll be out running errands in the meantime. I trust you’ll be all right by yourself?”
“Perfectly all right,” you assure her, to which she hums and strides past you. You catch her perfume as she departs, and it reminds you of the types of scents worn by saggy, old ladies who have nothing better to do than sit around and complain about the state of the world and the way their children turned out.
In other words, a scent you associate with misery.
You wait until she’s out of sight before opening the door and stepping inside the study. There’s a mahogany desk in the center, and thick textbooks are piled high on either side. Beyond that, beside a big bay window with cream-colored curtains drawn to let in the sun, two large bookcases are packed with an array of tomes. At the front of the room, a blackboard has been built into a wooden frame. Chalk lines the ledge, situated within reach of an eraser. And sitting at the desk, his eyes glued to an open book, is a young man. A pair of round frames sit on the bridge of his nose, slipping ever so slightly down the slope of it when he peers at the page. He pushes them up when he finally lifts his head to greet you.
“Hey.” You wave awkwardly, easing the door shut.
He seems taken aback by your appearance. “Oh, yes. Right. Hello…”
Silence soon fills the space. You wonder if you should just save yourself this nonsensical waste of time and retreat.
“Sooo.” You fold your arms behind your back, rocking on your heels. “Your mother’s probably told you why I’m here.”
“I’m aware.” He shuts his book and stands from his seat. “My name is Riddle Rosehearts. A pleasure to meet you.”
You blink at his outstretched arm. “(Name). Likewise.” You grab his hand and shake firmly. 
So stiff…
“So where’re we starting? The basics? You want the whole ‘when a man and a woman love each other very much’ version or—”
Riddle scoffs and yanks his arm back. “I’m not a fool. I’ll have you know I’m well aware of sexual reproduction and what it entails.”
“You can call it sex. No one’s forcing you to be all biological,” you tease. His body goes rigid, and his face reddens in what you assume is flustered annoyance. “Anyways, since you’re not as brainless as Mother Dearest wants me to assume, I’ll just get into it.”
Riddle stares at you, his arms folding over his chest. He looks like he wants to argue, but instead he huffs and lowers into his chair.
Wordlessly, you undo the buttons on your blazer and shrug out of it. Your blouse goes next, untucked from your skirt and shucked. Riddle’s eyes are so wide they nearly pop out of his skull when he spies the white, lacy false collar that just barely covers your breasts. You’re about to step out of your pencil skirt next when Riddle clears his throat.
“W-What’re you doing?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“No?”
“I’m teaching you the birds and the bees.”
“N-Not in that outfit! S-Surely not…” He averts his eyes, crimson crawling up to his ears. “You’re practically nude!”
“That’s the point of lingerie, silly.” Your skirt pools around your ankles to reveal the rest of your frilly ensemble. A black-and-white cupless bra and crotchless panties set, both with plenty of ruffles, held together with a pair of garters. Still wearing matching stockings and your precious Mary Janes, you bend down to gather your discarded clothes. They’re set aside on a nearby chair. “You can look.”
“A-Absolutely not!” he hisses, squeezing his eyes shut. “Y-You… You’re not decent. It’s rude to stare.”
“Come on. You got past anatomy diagrams just fine.”
Riddle opens and closes his mouth, speechless like a beached fish. Eventually, he manages to gather his coherency. “You’re a tutor, aren’t you? Where’s your dignity?”
“Nonexistent. I lied.” His head snaps over to view you, and he seems so scandalized by your admission that it’s almost comedic. “No way I’m studying to be an ob-gyn. I’m not even in school.”
“What?! But you—”
“It’s fine. I looked the part, didn’t I?” you joke, waving your hand about dismissively. “C’mon, mama’s boy. You’re going off to college. It’s nothing like those stuffy anatomy courses.”
Riddle tries and fails to look at anywhere that isn’t you, his eyes lingering on your chest to the space between your legs to the thigh garter and then to the ceiling. He’s so red you think he might explode.
“You’ve been with a girl before, yeah?”
With lips pursed in a tight line, he shakes his head.
“Sounds about right.”
“And you’re so experienced?”
You flash him a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry about it, mama’s boy.”
“I’m not a mama’s boy!”
“No? So you just let your mother treat you like a little baby at your grown age? You let her pick out sex tutors for you?”
“I—” He stops himself from speaking to mull over your questions. “If it’s what she deems necessary…”
“Because our biggest fear is sexually awkward you knocking up some girl at school, right?”
“I… I would never! Safe sex is—”
“Very important when you’re not trying to conceive. Good boy. See? You know your stuff.”
Riddle’s eyes narrow into vicious slits. You brush his scorching vitriol off and turn towards the board. Procuring a piece of chalk, you scrawl words on it: Birds and Bees 101. Wholly unamused, Riddle folds his arms across his chest.
“Your mother told me you’re gonna study medicine, so you’re probably familiar with everything already. And I’m sure you know all about the baby-making process on a biological level.” You whirl to face him, your tits bouncing with the peppy motion. Riddle swallows thickly. “But just to make sure… Let’s review.”
“R-Review? You don’t mean—”
“What’s this?” Your hands close around your tits. Riddle’s enchanted with the way you squeeze them—the way they depress under your fingers.
“Um… Ahem. Well… T-The breasts. They’re a type of glandular organ located on a woman’s chest, and they’re made up of lots of tissue and fat. There’s the mammary gland—that’s what produces milk. Oh, and then there are the areolas right around the nipples. Those are—”
“You can call them what they are.”
Riddle blinks, shaken from his studious spiel. “W-What?”
“You know the word, mama’s boy.”
He flusters. “Yes, I’m aware. But…”
“No harm in saying it.” You run your fingers over your nipples and giggle sweetly like a schoolgirl. “Go on…”
He inhales a deep breath. “They’re tits,” he mumbles, desultory. “Y-Your tits.”
You clap, beaming brightly. “Well done! Moving swiftly on…” You run your hands down the expanse of your stomach, stopping just beneath your navel. “What’s here?”
“Your womb. O-Otherwise known as the uterus. It’s where a baby grows over the course of nine months.”
“Mhm. Good job.”
He pushes his glasses up his nose, clearing his throat. “There’s more to your reproductive system than the uterus. Lots of parts. Important parts.”
“Right. But I don’t need to quiz you on it. You obviously know your stuff.”
Again, your fingers inch lower until they’re prodding at your folds. Riddle’s breath audibly hitches.
“And this?”
“Your vagina. It’s where—”
“What’s the other word?”
Riddle avoids your stare. “It sounds so vulgar…”
“So what?”
“S-So there ought to be a term that’s more…flattering.”
“Like what?” You approach him and, with the grace of a swan, lift your leg onto the desk to give him a better view of yourself. Shamelessly, you dip your fingers inside to spread yourself. “A guy called it the honeypot once. That pretty enough for you?”
Riddle squeaks and flinches back in his chair, his face now even redder than it was before. “T-That’s fine…”
“Really? I’d have thought the implication in that one is much dirtier than calling it a pussy.”
It takes him a moment to connect the dots, but once he does he gasps. “Ah. Then…”
You press inwards with your fingers, exaggerating a pornographic sigh. “Yeah?”
“Can I… M-May I call it your flower?”
“Sure.” His shoulders slacken with a flicker of relief. Your next words shatter that and his pride in one fell swoop. “That one’s not as special as you think, mama’s boy. I’ve heard it all—every type of flower you can think of.”
“Even a rose?”
“Especially a rose.” His lips twist into a disappointed moue. You chuckle and add, “You can call it a rose if you want. I don’t mind.”
Riddle meets your eyes then, searching them for the joke. When one doesn’t present itself, he relaxes. “All right. It’s a very pretty rose. Soft…”
“Aww. Thanks for saying so. It’s softer inside, y’know. See?” Spreading yourself wider, you angle your hips to bless him with the full view. “My fingers slide right in. Wanna guess why?”
“B-Because the vagina naturally—” He stops himself, his brows knitting together in contemplation. When he speaks next, it’s with a determined sort of conviction. “When you’re aroused, your rose produces a natural lubricant during sexual excitement.”
“Mhm. We call that ‘feeling good and getting wet,’ Dr. Rosehearts.”
“Yes. Y-Yes, I know that.” He eyes your pussy, a ravenous glimmer in his intelligent blue-greys. “And the wetness—it’s supposed to make it feel better. To make insertion easier, I mean.”
“Right again.” You ease your fingers out but not before thrusting them deeper just so he can hear the sinful sounds. They shimmer with your essence, enticing in a forbidden way. “What about the other parts? How about this spot here?” You brush against the hood of your clit, circling it slowly.
Riddle watches, hopelessly spellbound. “The clitoris.”
“I’m impressed. Most guys don’t know about it.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“But it’s your most sensitive erogenous zone! Just how uninformed does one have to be to neglect such a crucial part to your sexual anatomy?”
“Woefully uninformed, I’m afraid,” you mutter with a pout. Your fingertips drag your hood up to reveal that pretty, perky nub. “I think it’s dumb your mother wants me to talk you out of sex. You’re going to college. You’re an adult. You’re free to do whatever you want.”
“I…” Riddle frowns at that last line. “I have no interest in it. Besides, it’ll only hinder my studies. If I really need it, I’ll just masturbate. That’s healthy every now and then, and it doesn’t break any rules.”
“Really? No interest at all?” You shoot him a knowing look and run your tongue along your bottom lip. “Because your dick’s telling a different story.”
Riddle sputters, embarrassed, and squeezes his thighs together. His hands fly to cover his lap. “That’s because you’re—” He gazes at the floor. “Because you’re so pretty…”
Temporarily thrown off course, you gape at him. “What?”
“You’re beautiful.”
Gathering the remnants of your mask, you piece it together and laugh. “Not the first time I’ve heard someone describe it like that.”
“Not just your pussy.” Your gaze snaps to his. He smiles, impish. “I’m sure you know what I mean, Teacher.”
You exhale a short laugh. “Someone’s suddenly confident.”
Riddle rises from his seat. His fingers close around your wrist, gently pulling it away from your clit. He moves around the desk to stand in front of you and then, before you can comprehend his intentions, he’s pushing you down onto the desk. You yelp at the sudden change in position, your eyes blown wide when he presses his clothed hard-on against your bare pussy.
“You’re doing a poor job at dissuading me from wanting sex.”
“I wasn’t trying to.”
“Not in that outfit.” He grabs at the meat of your thighs and parts them. “If Mother knew you lied to her…”
You shake your head at him. “Please don’t tell her. I… I’m being serious. I need this money.”
“Desperately?”
Your lip curls into the beginning of a sneer. You hate feeling powerless more than anything, but the fiery glaze in his eyes is just as troubling. “I’m not going to beg.”
“I haven’t asked for that yet.”
You roll your eyes. “Not funny. I agreed to teach you about sex. We’re not actually doing it.”
“A shame.”
“You’ll find a nice girl at school. Don’t lose hope, mama’s boy. Lots of girls like the smart types who’ll give ’em a lecture on biology and stuff.”
“I think you misunderstand. I don’t want other girls.”
“Okay?”
“My mother’s paying for a tutor and I desire you, so unless you want to leave here as a lying cheat…” He hums, seeming awfully haughty to hold the only thing that tethers you to him above your head. “You need the money, right?”
“Yes. Sure, of course I do. But—” You shift on the desk, silently horrified when he rocks against you. “We can’t. Your mother—”
“Weren’t you the one saying I should live my life? That I have the freedom to do as I please?”
“That doesn’t mean—come on; listen to yourself. You can’t honestly think I’d fuck you.”
“No? And yet you came wearing this outfit, parading around the study with your pussy and tits out.” He glances past you at the window. “And you didn’t even bother to close the curtains… How brazen.”
Your attempt to jerk away from him is made in vain. He pins you down onto the desk, one hand squeezing your breast, while the other works to fish himself from his trousers. Now hard and leaking, his cock rests against your stomach. It’s not a terrible size. If anything, it’s perfect. Just right for your tastes.
“W-Wait! It’s not safe. You can’t—” You inhale sharply, bucking up towards his hand when he presses his thumb against your clit. Biting your lip, you fix him with a glower. “If you pay me… If you promise not to tell your mother—”
Riddle leans in close. “No one needs to know. No one but us.”
Your eyes flit about the room. With a withering sigh, you submit to his touch. “You’d better pull out in time.”
Riddle rolls his hips once and his cock drags along your folds. You hiss through your teeth at this new friction, a sinful delight more dizzying than any type of alcohol consumed in excess. “Do you want to be a mother?”
“What I want has nothing to do with you. I’m just—ooh—t-trying to survive. You wouldn’t know what that’s like, so don’t poke fun.”
Riddle hums, kneading your breast and rubbing you to the edge all at once. It’s so very obviously his first time, his zealous nature trumping any sort of experienced technique. It still does the trick, though, sending little bolts of pleasure up your spine.
“My mother wouldn’t just choose anyone. Her standards are very high.” His eyes flick to your face, drinking in your expression as it shifts with restrained bliss. “Somehow you’ve earned her approval.”
“Lying’ll do that.”
“Maybe.” His fingers replicate the motions you did earlier, though with a singular objective in mind. He’s so focused on succeeding in this endeavor that it makes him look so stiff. Under any other circumstances, you’d find it cute. “Mother always knows what’s best for me. Obviously you’ve met her criteria if she’s hired you.”
“Spoken like a true mama’s boy.” Seeing as this is now your unavoidable fate, you reach up to touch his shoulders. He jolts, his initial glare softening. You tamp down another giggle and massage up and along his arms. “Relax a little. Don’t rush so much.”
Or do. Let’s get this over with before your mother catches us.
Riddle traces two fingers along your labia. He’s quiet as he takes all of you in, and when he sinks three fingers into your gooey heat his breath catches in his throat. “Are you… D-Do you feel good?”
You reach for his unoccupied hand and guide it to your clit. Riddle understands the suggestion well enough, for he massages you slowly. Sucking in another breath, you nod at him.
“Not bad. You’re getting there.”
His neglected cock throbs at the praise, and so you wrap your fingers around it to give it the same amount of attention he’s currently giving you. Riddle grits his teeth at the contact.
“You can move your fingers. Don’t just focus on my clit.”
“Ah. Right. Of course,” he babbles dumbly, so swept up in everything that you are, so very eager to please.
You’re like a work of art pinned to his desk, a delicacy more forbidden than anything from the bakery. Sugary-sweet, adorned in skimpy ruche, you’re a temptation laid bare. Delicately, as if you might shatter, he curls his fingers to press up against your insides. Riddle watches you arch up towards him, your hand working his cock maddeningly slow and steady. It feels good—better than anything he could have ever imagined.
His eyes trail from your lips to your tits to your pussy stretched around his fingers. “Do you have any plans for this summer?”
The sudden question catches you off guard. You were expecting something related to sex, not whatever this new shred of curiosity is. Still, that doesn’t stop you from dragging him closer to the edge of ecstasy with every tug of your fist.
“Why?”
“I… I’d like to get to know you.”
“Me?”
“Of course. You’re more than a body to me.”
“How charming. I just—” You frown, unable to follow where he’s going with this. “Why?”
“Isn’t that obvious?” Even though he says it like it’s a fact, he looks shy. “I want to know you.”
“Uh… Yeah… Okay.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“Not that… It’s just hard to imagine you having any girl friends.”
Riddle rolls his eyes and grinds his thumb into your clit. You bite back a whine as his fingers pump in and out of you. “Is that space open or closed?”
“You know which one.”
“You could be the one to close it.”
You meet his eyes then. For a short minute, the two of you hold each other’s stare. And then, breaking free from his hypnotic hold, you squeeze his length gently. He shudders, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks.
“And what about you? You excited for your first year?”
“Mm, yeah,” he murmurs, rutting into your hand. His fingers spread you open, scissoring gently.
“Just make sure to take time for yourself. Have fun. Live.”
“What did you do?”
“What do you mean?”
“When you were at school—how’d you manage?”
“I never went.” He opens his mouth to interject, but you beat him to it. “Couldn’t afford it.”
“Oh…”
“It’s fine! I’ve got plenty of experience in other things. I don’t need school for that.”
Riddle doesn’t believe your feigned optimism for a second. “If you could’ve gone, what would you have studied?”
You release his cock from your hold and reach up to pull his glasses from his face. Gingerly, minding the fragile frames, you set them aside. You lift your index to your lips, effortlessly coy. “It’s a secret.”
Before he can protest, you tap the hand at your cunt next. Riddle’s fingers, wet and shiny, slide out with a slick squelch. “I think you can do it.”
“What?”
“Go to school and study what you want. I believe in you.”
A wooden laugh tumbles from your lips. “Thanks for the encouragement, mama’s boy.”
“I have a name, you know.”
You smile easily. “You want me to call you something else? How does ‘good boy’ sound?”
Even though he tries not to let it show, his cock betrays his reticence with a small twitch. He’s an open book. Not wanting to give you the satisfaction, he lines himself up instead. Your fingers slip down to spread yourself for him.
“S-Slowly…” you whisper, stumbling over your breath as the head of his cock presses inside. Shallow at first before more inches fill you.
Riddle heaves a shaky gasp, his eyes wide with amazement. “I… I’m inside you…”
“How’s it feel?” “Warm. Soft. Snug. R-Really good.” He bows his head and digs his fingers into your hips. You think he has a dozen more adjectives on the tip of his tongue, each one just as fluffy as the last. “D-Do you feel good? It doesn’t hurt?”
“I’m fine.” You wind your legs around his waist to pull him closer. Your hands come to rest upon his shoulders once more. “Move your hips.”
Riddle does just that. His pace is awkward and inexperienced, every motion unsteady and jerky, as he searches for the right rhythm. He falls into it surprisingly fast, and it isn’t long until he’s smoothly rutting into you. You grab at his shirt, your breath coming in reedy huffs.
“Good. You—haa—good. You’re doing good.” Praise pours from your lips like a waterfall, plentiful and refreshing. It invigorates him, fills him with a confidence that wasn’t there before.
The soft slap of skin on skin fills the room. You keep your voice in check, lest you lose yourself and alert Mrs. Rosehearts. Riddle seems to be doing the same, even though it’s obvious he’s struggling much more than you are. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth to suppress his groans.
“You can touch me,” you whisper, petting his cheek. He blinks at you, his face aflame with a bright blush.
Nervously, he reaches for you and then pauses. Contemplation passes over his features. “What feels better? I want you to—no. I will make sure you cum. I’ve studied it, actually. I know how long it takes.”
“Look at you, doing your research like a diligent student. You want extra credit?”
Riddle chuckles and pinches your clit between two fingers. The rest of your teasing tapers off into a lewd squeal. “What was that about extra credit?”
“You’re awfully bold for your first time.”
“I’m not clueless.” His hips press inwards, plastering you to the desk, and his cock brushes that special spot within—the spot that has you seeing stars, your every nerve tingling with pleasure. You choke around a delighted gasp. Riddle, feeling victorious,  places his hand against your stomach, as if searching to feel his cock thrust up inside you. “Will I see you again after this?”
“If your mother wants me to come back and give you another pointless lecture on celibacy and safe sex, sure.”
“No, not that. Outside of this.”
“Don’t you have friends you’d rather hang out with?”
“I…do.”
“So spend time with them.”
Riddle doesn’t dignify that with a retort. With the way his eyes gloss over, you wonder just how many of these friends are within physical distance. The conversation stalls out into silence.
“You’ll make lots of friends at school. So many you’ll probably forget all about me.”
Riddle yanks your hips to meet his, driving himself deeper into your pussy.
“A-And you’ll find a nice girl to love if you’re looking for that kinda thing.”
“I am,” he confesses, breathless. “I want to get married and—mmh—start a family one day… I want to study law—become a lawyer… Mother thinks medicine suits me, but I can’t agree. Law is fascinating. It’s a perfect fit for me. Far better than medicine.”
You drag your thumb over your mouth, wetting it with your lipgloss, and then press it to his lips. The indirect kiss sends a tidal wave of arousal over him, darkening the tips of his ears in striking vermillion. You offer him a gentle smile while he recovers from that devastating flirt.
“I’ll make sure to hire you as my lawyer if I ever get into legal trouble.”
“You’d better not!” He laughs and shakes his head in amused disbelief. “But if you do, I’ll be there for you. Always.”
“Thanks, Riddle.”
Maybe I judged him too harshly. He’s not so bad.
In that stuffy study, just as the late afternoon gives way to red-orange streaked across a purple-pink sky, Riddle fucks you against that desk in all manner of rhythms. It’s when he finally picks up speed that you realize he’s nearing his end. You mirror his enjoyment, strung along by titillating touches and whispered words drenched in sweetness. You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve reached rapture alongside him, your pussy now brimming with cum. There’s so much it leaks out of your slick hole when he draws away, only to burrow his cock deeper to stuff it back inside.
The room reeks of sweat and sex. You think, if not your disheveled appearance, the smell will definitely tell Mrs. Rosehearts all she needs to know.
“I love you,” Riddle murmurs, and you’re about to ask him what he means—maybe he’s caught up in the moment and doesn’t realize what he’s saying—but then he lifts your legs up to fold you into a mating press. Coherent thoughts are knocked out of your head when he spills over, filling you up for the nth time that day. You shiver beneath him, eyes rolled back into your skull and tongue lolling out. You feel so stupid, fucked submissive by some inexperienced, upper middle class mama’s boy. Which isn’t even an insult with real heat to it, but in your hazy mind it’s all you can think of to describe him.
He grinds against you in the aftermath, panting from the exhilaration and adrenaline. 
“We need to…open the window,” you mutter, your heart thumping wildly in your chest.
Riddle admires your fucked-out expression in his sex-drunk daze. He slides out just as he feels himself going flaccid. Cum drips onto the desk below. Briefly, you struggle to recall whether or not you took your birth control today.
Something to consider later. Definitely not right now when you’re still clinging to the vestiges of your orgasm.
— — —
Mrs. Rosehearts knocks on the door, opening it to find Riddle sitting at his desk, jotting notes and occasionally pushing his glasses up. You’re standing at the blackboard, writing a list of the consequences of unplanned pregnancies. The room smells pleasantly of roses.
“Pardon my intrusion.”
You gaze at her and smile, wearing the clothes you arrived in. Nothing’s amiss. It’s perfect—thankfully. “Welcome back, Mrs. Rosehearts. We’re just about finished here.”
“Is that right? I assume all went well?”
“Very well. Your son’s a fast learner. Extremely talented.”
“I would expect nothing less.” She withdraws an envelope and hands it to you. “Thank you again for explaining it in realistic terms. Of course I don’t doubt that my Riddle will act senselessly while he’s away, but as his mother I’m prone to worrying. Boys his age are so easily influenced.”
“O-Of course! That’s a very valid concern.” You force a chuckle.
If only she knew.
“Your pay is in that envelope. Should I ever require your assistance again, I’ll be sure to call.”
“Right… Thank you.” You hold it close to your chest. “I’m happy to help.”
You follow her out the door. She pauses to address Riddle. “Do continue reviewing your notes. We’ll convene for dinner in thirty minutes.”
“Yes, Mother.”
Mrs. Rosehearts walks you to the gate. “I wish you luck in your studies. If I don’t see you again at the clinic, have a pleasant summer.”
“Thank you. You as well.” You smile, fidgeting slightly. A bead of sweat tracks a path down your leg from between cum-spattered thighs.
Finally! With this I can pay my rent and still have enough for a treat from the bakery.
It’s worth it, or so you continue to tell yourself.
— — —
From the window, Riddle watches you make the walk to your car. He lifts his phone to fit you in the camera and snaps a secret photo. He continues to watch you until you’ve driven off and turned the corner, disappearing from his sight.
A tiny smile tugs at his lips.
Within his phone, put under a password lock, a special photo album exists. It’s filled with pictures taken from your social media—all of them. Every. Single. One. He’s resourceful when he wants to be. He can play the parody of a tech genius when he sets his sights on something.
And you’re just perfect.
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tragedy-for-sale · 2 days
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Finished Reading Padawan
These are just some little facts/snippets throughout the book I really liked, really along the lines of temple life.
Spoilers for Padawan below!
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Obi-Wan tugs on his padawan braid when he is anxious
Bolla Ropal (the Jedi that was killed guarding the holocron in TCW) was Obi-Wan's childhood frienemy. The two played pranks on each other.
Obi-Wan paces outside Qui-Gon's chamber doors as he's trying to figure out what to say what he needs to.
Obi-Wan feels most at peace, most calm, when he is practicing lightsaber forms and says he could do it all day and never bore of it.
Jedi specialize in certain fields, such as communication with animals, and if such a conflict arises based in that Jedi's field, they are sent to help
Jedi who are ready to take have a padawan meditate and the force guides them to who they're meant to train, leading to shared interests.
The temple has several dining halls. There is a padawan meal hall and therefore one for the other ranks. They offer such a variety of food Obi-Wan said one could always find something new to try. And I could've made this up but I'm also pretty sure they said the dining hall for padawans was almost always open, so one was always be able to get a meal.
Some Jedi Masters put a table and chairs in their rooms so they can share a meal with their padawan in their personal space
Qui-Gon doesn't even have an extra chair in his room.
Ships can be requested/reserved down in the hangar. A padawan is allowed to do this without approval from their master (Obi-Wan is told by Qui-Gon to do do but is not directly confronted when he does it alone).
Talking and communicating with animals is actually one of the harder skills to learn and master as a Jedi, so many opt not to. Meaning Ezra's ability to communicate with animals as well as he does is not something all Jedi could do, especially for his age
Nautolans, can live outside of water (we do know this) but since they are an aquatic species, there is a constant strain on their gills and results in them being in pain if out of water for too long.
Obi-Wan thinks Kit Fisto is really strong, he notes Fisto does not seem to be affected by this.
Obi-Wan notes some of his padawan friends have dabbled in physical relationships. But he sees it has an obstacle not as a temptation, feeling that, kissing for example, was a betrayal of himself and the Jedi. He wonders if he'd ever get to a point where it does not feel like that.
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Honestly this book was a really cute read and the planet it takes place on was very captivating. I really liked how Kirsten White writes Qui-Gon too and her references that any prequel fan would love catching.
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back2bluesidex · 3 days
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Incognito - JHS (WDBHG Drabble)
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A Where Do Broken Hearts Go Drabble
Pairing: Hoseok X Fem!Reader X Jungkook
Wordcount: 1k+
Summary: Hoseok is curious about the guy who left you behind. So, he goes incognito.
Warnings: drinking!
Minors are not allowed in this blog!!
A/N: This takes place after chapter 4 and before chapter 5
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Try as he might - Hoseok can’t think of anything else other than your lips, which he was about to kiss. 
He doesn’t know what had possessed him earlier tonight but he really regrets it. He had been trying hard not to look at you for the better part of the day. But he failed 
As if he hasn’t sold himself as a creep by continuously ogling his daughter’s therapist, that he had to lean down and almost kiss you. 
Thank god Sua woke up and stopped him, otherwise things might have changed from the next session and he doesn’t want that. Not only Sua but also he have been forming a genuine relationship with someone for the first time in all these years, he doesn’t wanna fuck things up now. Even though you seemed ready for him to take you over.
He pours a good amount of Hibiki in his fancy diamond cut glass. Looking at the liquid he sighs, he thinks to himself of the countless identical nights that he has been spending locking himself up in his study after putting Sua to sleep. 
He could have called Mina tonight. She is always ready and one call away. But somehow Hoseok feels greatly turned off by the idea. 
He almost had a taste of you, he almost put his mouth on yours and lord, he can still somehow smell your sweet subtle vanilla scent in the air. How the fuck he can think of anyone else when you were ready to jump in his arms just an an hour ago? 
He groans at the thought. 
What is this feeling of confusion? Why does he want you but is grateful that things didn’t escalate? 
The whiskey burns at the back of his throat but does nothing to take away the troubled thoughts he has been having. 
Then something ticks in his mind. 
“Jungkoo-?” he murmurs to himself. You didn’t say the full name but this jungkoo person has to be the ex boyfriend that supposedly fell out of love with you. 
And suddenly Hoseok is curious. He wants to see the face of this idiot who let you go. He wants to see the person who broke you and whom you still probably love. Whom you probably thought of while he was about to kiss you. 
He takes a big gulp from the glass and walks towards his desk. Settling down in the huge chair he opens his laptop, taps on the browser and goes into incognito mode. Typing a specific address and agreeing on using the site on guest mode, he filters out the search criteria. 
Location: Seoul,  Gender: Male,  Age: he thinks hard about it. You don’t seem like the type to go for very older or very younger guys. Given the fact that you are still under 30, he selects the age bar from 20 to 35.  Name: Jungko
Enter. 
There are 5 results that pop up: 
Jeon Jung Kook 
Shin Jung Kook 
Kim Jeong Gguk 
Kim Jeong Guen 
Lee Jung Min 
It’s good that your ex-boyfriend has a distinct name, it makes it easy to find him. The website showed him the most relevant results, so there are 5. But he knows which two he has to work with. 
So, he clicks on the first profile: 
Name: Jeon Jung Kook
Age: 28 
Occupation: Modeling 
Address: Unknown 
Email ID: Unknown 
Website: www.goldenstudios.kr  
Hoseok frowns at that. He has been using this people finder tool for the better part of his career but this ‘website’ section is added only on special cases. Either this jungkook guy is a bigshot or a celebrity. And he doubts if you settle for those types. 
But he clicks on the link regardless. 
His breath hitches upon seeing Jungkook’s face. He is the Calvin Klein model, whose face is in every possible billboard? 
Jesus. Is he really Y/N’s ex? He thinks to himself as he scrolls down the page. 
He can be wrong as well. There is another guy with the same name, so yeah. And he doesn’t really think you would have the mind to put up with a celebrity for three years. 
But something keeps him from exiting the page. He clicks on the instagram icon that is added at the end of Jungkook's bio. 
When the instagram opens, the first thing he tries is to look for your face but he finds none. Then he clicks on a random post and starts scrolling. 
Hoseok stumbles upon a post from a month ago. In the picture a pretty lady is hugging Jungkook tightly. As Jungkook lovingly wraps up her waist with one of his hands, laying his head on the top of her head. There are no captions but a ton of congratulations in the comments. 
So, this guy is already committed. 
Hoseok thinks of the likeliness of this guy being your ex. You said he broke up with you but didn’t mention when. Given the fact that your wounds are still fresh, it might haven’t been that long. And this guy just got into a relationship a month ago. So, he can very well be the Jungkook you were talking about. 
However, still, you dating a celebrity doesn’t sit right with Hoseok. So he decides to exit instagram and investigate the other guy. 
Before exiting, though, he decides to tap on the profile picture to view the recent stories. 
There is a picture of Jungkook, with another strikingly beautiful guy inside a condo. The caption says “happy birthday @j.m” with a tagged location. 
And.. it is the same location Hoseok picked you up from today. You also mentioned visiting a friend just before the session. 
Hoseok’s eyes narrow at the screen as he takes a better look at Jungkook’s face. 
“So you left Y/N for the girl in the photo, huh?” He talks to the screen as if Jungkook can hear him. 
“What an idiot you are, Jeon Jungkook.” Hoseok takes a swig from his glass making a silent promise of making you forget your ex.  
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Taglist 1:-
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Taglist 2:-
@llallaaa @mikrokookiex @parkinglot-nights @hiqhkey @diamonddia-mond @00frenchfries00 @koalasandcuddles @superchamchi88 @ttanniett @coralmusicblaze @multiasf @kookscumrag @sumzysworld @knjjjk @xtrataerrestrial @survivalistghost @kelsyx33 @aann95 @btsffreader92 @jjk174 @dragonflygurl4 @xwniazx
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madaqueue · 2 days
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Practice Makes Perfect | Chapter 7
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synopsis: you and yuji have been best friends basically as long as you can remember, and you made a promise to each other to stay friends and help each other be the best versions of yourselves for your future partners. but will things change when yuji finally starts looking for a relationship?
pairing: yuji itadori (18+) x f!reader
themes/content: modern college au (characters aged up to 18+). language, fluff, angst. alcohol consumption, jealousy, kissing (x megumi). 18+, MDNI
word count: 1.8k
a/n: guys i'm still trying to write the last chapter for this series rn bc i got hit with mad writers block but aaAAH she's comin along
previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter
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You’re back in Yuji’s dorm building, but this time your back faces the familiar room. He had just waved goodbye, whispering “Go get ‘em, tiger,” as he shot fake finger guns at you before shutting the door to his room. Now it was just you alone in the hallway, facing the construction paper cutout of “Megumi” that was taped to the door in front of you. You hesitantly raise your fist out before knocking.
A soft voice from inside yells out, “One second!” through the door before it swings open. In front of you stands the dark-haired boy, once again wearing a black t-shirt and black jeans. “Hey, it’s good to see you,” he says sweetly as his eyes meet yours. “You ready to go?”
“Yep!” you chirp. The warm scent of his cologne hits your nose as he steps next to you. You suddenly feel nervous, not sure if it’s because of the man standing to your side or the one who you just left. You push the feeling down as you walk to the cafe.
The space is warm, the hum of espresso makers and piano music filling your ears. The walls are adorned in floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, warm light casting over everything from the chandelier above.
With a mug in each hand, Megumi leads you to a table in the middle of the cafe. He sets one down in front of you with your latte and his, with plain black coffee, next to him.
“This place is beautiful,” you note, eyes glancing around the room taking it all in. “How did you find it?”
“One of my friends, Maki, suggested I try it,” he responds, taking a sip from his coffee. “She said it fit my ‘vibe’ or something,” he chuckles. “So, what do you have to study while we’re here?”
“I have a bit of bio to work on, but honestly, I’m just here for the company,” you try to say as nonchalantly as possible as you pull your laptop out of your backpack and set it on the table in front of you. You catch Megumi smiling out of the corner of your eye.
“Speaking of company,” he begins as he pulls a notebook out of his bag, “how do you and Yuji know each other?”
There it is. You were waiting for this question on the way over, but Megumi seemed to avoid the topic entirely. You knew he saw you with Yuji, and now you have to come clean. But what, exactly, is there to come clean about?
“We’re childhood friends,” you state. It’s not technically a lie, but it certainly doesn’t explain the complicated relationship you’ve developed with him over the past few weeks.
“Mhm,” Megumi hums quizzically. You could tell he wants to ask more, yet he doesn’t pry.
Silence falls between the two of you for a moment, and something about it makes you feel comfortable sharing more. “We met when we were kids, and as we grew up we were inseparable. He’s…” you pause, thinking about the weight of the words you’re about to say, “my best friend.” You sigh.
“But…?” Megumi guides, a small grin forming on one side of his mouth.
“But now it’s…weird,” you follow.
“Well, Yuji’s a pretty weird guy, and I’ve only known him a semester,” he agrees with a chuckle.
Something about Megumi puts you at ease. You feel comfortable sharing things with him you never thought you’d say out loud, which is why you continue explaining. “Yuji and I kissed,” you blurt out. “But now he has feelings for someone else, and I don’t know how I feel about him, and everything’s just messed up.” You put your head into your hands.
Megumi pauses for a moment, trying to think of what to say. “Oof,” is all he gets out.
“‘Oof’ indeed,” you chuckle through your palms. Suddenly, you lift your head up to meet eyes with the boy across from you. “Hey, please don’t tell Yuji I said any of that?” you plead, realizing the sensitive nature of what you just shared with him.
“My lips are sealed,” he responds through a smile, “as long as you get the next round of coffees.”
“Deal,” you agree, a grin spreading across your face.
This feels…easy. Talking to Megumi feels like how you and Yuji used to be, before all this emotional gunk got in the way.
The conversation flows smoothly as the two of you work through all of your studying for the next week, spending nearly the entire day in the warm cafe. By the time you leave, the sun has set and the sky is orange and purple as dusk settles over campus. Megumi asks to walk you home and you agree, thanking him for the kind gesture.
When you get back to your dorm, the caffeine from the coffees you were chugging all day finally wears off as you crash into your bed, the smell of detergent still lingering on your freshly-washed comforter as you settle under it.
The next week breezes by, especially since you finished all of your work at the cafe with Megumi over the weekend. You start looking forward to your biology class because you know it means you’ll get to see him. For a few hours each week, you get to watch his hands as he sketches page after page, sometimes of animals, sometimes of buildings, sometimes of you. Whenever you’re included in his drawings, he tears the page out and gives it to you without a second thought.
The two of you also started spending more time together outside of class trying out new cafes, especially after you found out Megumi was very particular about his coffee.
He sticks his nose up as he tries to hide the disgust on his face. “Yuck,” he mutters as he swallows, setting the mug down.
“No good?” you ask, putting your hand over your mouth as you try to hide your giggle. He just shakes his head in response. “Well my latte is delicious,” you respond with a smirk as you take a sip.
“How can you even say that?” he frowns. “That stuff is all sweetener, and you know it.”
“Mmm maybe, but I like things a little sweet,” you hum. You reach your hands across the table to pinch his cheeks, molding his frown into a forced smile. “And I bet you’d like it too, if you gave it a try.” He swats your hands away with a chuckle.
Things are…easy. Yet, for some stupid reason, you still find yourself thinking of Yuji, especially during these lull periods where you let your thoughts get quiet. It’s not like he’s gone, or even that he hasn’t texted you (because he certainly has, mostly pictures of his gross meals like fried rice with jam or a boxed mac n cheese he made using vanilla coffee creamer). It’s more that you are struggling to figure out what to say to him. How are you supposed to explain whatever these feelings are to someone you aren’t even dating that you know has feelings for someone else?
“Are you doing anything tonight?” Megumi asks. You’re both packing up your stuff after your Friday biology class. “I got invited to this off-campus party and I was wondering if you’d want to go with me?” he turns to face you. You don’t sense any hint of nervousness in his voice, as if asking was second nature. He had really grown comfortable around you.
“I’d love to,” you respond with a smile. “Meet at my place at 8:00?”
“Sounds perfect,” he grins as you both turn to walk out of the lecture hall.
Walking into a party with Megumi is definitely a new experience. For one, you were never a huge party-goer, so the loud music and conversations are an adjustment. Second, this is the first time you and Megumi have gone somewhere together. Sure you had studied plenty of times, but this feels like something else.
Truthfully, you don’t know what you and Megumi are to each other. Your relationship feels comfortable, like you’ve been friends for years, but sometimes you say something and you swear you catch him blushing.
It doesn’t matter, you try to mentally pep-talk yourself, tonight I’m just here to have fun.
The two of you step through the front door as the smell of stale beer hits your nose and the bass from the music causes your chest to vibrate. You tug on the bottom of your black dress as you gaze down at the tennis shoes you paired it with, hoping you don’t look too out of place. Looking up, you scan across the room for a familiar face but find none; luckily, Megumi waves at his friends and grabs your hand, guiding you to the middle of the dance floor.
You dance together for a while before one of his friends, who he introduces as Toge, comes back and hands you both full cups. The new white-haired boy pulls down the top of what looks to be a custom-made hoodie before chugging his drink. Megumi looks at you and knocks the top of his glass against yours before he moves it up to his lips. You follow his lead, taking in gulps of what tastes like the cheapest beer you’ve ever had. Both of you finish your drinks at the same time, the liquid sending shivers down your body as you smile up at Megumi.
The night continues smoothly, Toge coming back with drinks every so often as you let the music course through you while moving your body to the pounding rhythms. You slowly get to meet Megumi’s friends as you shout your introductions over the blasting noise around you. You are having…fun? You never saw yourself enjoying parties, but here you are, getting the college experience.
Suddenly, Megumi taps your shoulder. You turn to look up at him, but his eyes are focused on something behind you. Spinning around on your toes, you see why he got your attention: Yuji.
He’s standing on the other side of the crowded dance floor, one arm leaning against the wall. And below his arm, is a girl.
She has shoulder length brown hair and is wearing a dark blue dress that seems like it was made for her. This has to be her, you think. Dammit, did she have to be gorgeous, too?
For a moment, all you can do is stare, your eyes going back and forth between the two of them. You watch as Yuji says something and she shoves him in the chest, a laugh never leaving her lips. Your eyes start to water as you try to blink the tears away. No, no, no, this isn’t happening. You’re supposed to be having fun. This isn’t fun. Megumi sees your body tense and he places a hand on your shoulder, trying to get your attention back.
Suddenly, Yuji’s eyes meet yours from across the room. Your stomach drops, and you’re not sure if it’s the butterflies or the jealousy bubbling up inside of you. Before you can even think, you turn to face Megumi, hoping Yuji is still watching. You move your arms around his neck as you lean up to kiss him.
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mickisnotclever · 2 days
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~ Made Just for You ~
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Prompt: "To Belong" - Day 24 of @hotchfiles 's event MarchHotchness! (It's two days late but pretend it isn't, alright?)
Relationships: General, No ship, Aaron Hotchner & His Family, Aaron Hotchner & The BAU Team
CW: Implied/referenced child abuse, Blood, Alcoholism, Guns
Word Count: 1,819 | This wasn't meant to be this long. I have other fics I'm trying to update but this simply took hold of me
AN: I've never posted fic to tumblr before so I hope I did this right. Also, if this isn't the greatest can you just ignore it or lie to me? Lmao I'm so nervous about posting this. Takes place in very early days + season 1 era, so no Emily yet.
Home should be the one place where every child feels like they fit seamlessly. There should be spaces carved out in the exact shape of their bodies for them to nestle into at the end of a long day.
Aaron's house had no space for him when he was growing up.
It was too crowded with empty glass bottles and tin cans. Filled to the brim with the sound of his mother's muffled cries. Packed tight with his brother's desperation to please.
He had become an expert contortionist at a very young age.
He learned how to fold up his presence, to tuck himself into the tiniest crack. He perfected the skill of fading away in plain sight when his father transformed into a raging whirlwind that threatened to rip their house apart.
As time went on, he learned how to conveniently materialize when the crosshairs started to focus on his mother or brother.
He was nonexistent one moment, and there the next. Ready and willing to fill the space between the flying leather and his baby brother's pleading form.
He began to almost like it in a way.
He didn't enjoy the searing pain but he learned to take it. He almost... wanted it. It reminded him that he was there, that his father saw him for at least a few moments. Despite the circumstance, he was allowed to share the space with him for a while. He was allowed to exist loudly. He was allowed to have a voice. It didn't matter that he was crying in agony and despair.
The Hotchner house looked like a normal one from the outside. A regular family resided there, two parents and two children. They never wanted for anything, be it food and water or possessions. The neighbors saw them as equals, as as people who they could turn to for help. After all, they were the perfect family.
But Aaron knew the truth. That only one child truly lived there. Only one child fit there, was allowed to freely move around the whole area without a second thought, belonged there.
If Aaron had to make himself a ghost in order to allow his brother to live, then so be it. He'd gladly glide between the spaces that held the evidence of his brother's childhood. He drifted past the height markers on the door frame with an "S" scratched next to each one. None of them had an "A" next to them. There was a dent marring the other side of the frame where a heavy bottle had missed Aaron's head. He was fine with that.
When he silently drifted past the refrigerator and saw a display of a carefully crafted drawing with a shakily penned name, he smiled to himself. The award Aaron had been given for his high marks at school was still just as valuable where it remained in his bag.
He was too busy making himself small to notice when he had grown up. His family hadn't noticed either, least of all his father.
The times with him that Aaron used to relish in a demented way had grown tainted with resentment. The blood that dripped from his mouth, another stain in the carpet, was no longer proof that he was alive. It was no longer the mark of some sick justification to himself that his father was helping him grow strong. It was just another reminder that he was only allowed to leave traces of himself behind when they were ripped violently from his body.
The day he decided to pack his things and leave for college, his father tried to pull him back into the residence that rejected his presence.
Aaron unfolded himself then, staring the man dead in the eyes, and his father finally saw him. All of him. His fury blazed bright behind carefully tempered glass.
And he let Aaron go.
Aaron wasn't sure how to stop hiding within himself. His whole life had been spent ensuring that he didn't have a noticeable presence. Now, he was free to have one. When he reached to feel the space where it should be, his fingertips brushed nothing but an empty cavern.
Days turned months into years and he found solace in being directed to designated areas.
This is your dormitory. Your side. Your bed.
Temporary ownership of a space was all he needed.
This is your classroom. Your desk.
He studiously made his way through classes, doing everything he needed to ensure he received top marks. Before he could form a permanent place for himself, he'd be moving on to another.
This is your building. This is your desk. These are your clients.
He presented facts, he helped people get justice. It was the closest he came to feeling like he had a purpose, a place he was supposed to be.
But feelings of uncertainty snagged inside him, on the edges of something he wasn't aware was there. Seeing how clients had suffered made him want to go back further, to help before they were hurt.
It was never about him. He couldn't let himself unfurl here. He had a job to do. And he moved on, abandoning the area he briefly allowed himself to settle.
This is your new classroom. This is your gun locker. This is your protective gear.
He didn't need to fill out any extra space with anything other than what he was trained to do. Follow the protocol, become the best he can be, help his teammates complete the task. He was just another highly skilled shooter under a helmet. This was easy.
The feeling remained.
Then came the FBI.
This is your desk. These are your supplies.
He met Jason Gideon. The man studied him in a way he never had been before. It filled him with discomfort.
He focused on his work. The unknowable thing inside him grew a little more every time they managed to successfully stop a tragedy from happening.
The first time a cup of coffee appeared on his desk in the morning, he thought someone had forgotten it there. Looking around for anyone that seemed to be searching for it, he spotted Gideon raising his own identical cup at him with a nod.
A hidden corner within unfolded as he took a drink from his cup.
He met Derek Morgan. The man was downright playful in a way he was extremely unfamiliar with. For a long while, he didn't know what to do with it. Slowly, he attempted to match the man's energy. At first, it was just once in a while when a sarcastic comment made its way past his lips before he could prevent it. Before he noticed, it was an almost daily occurrence. And he found he didn't hate it.
Gideon recruited an incredibly young man, Spencer Reid.
Almost immediately, he saw himself in the younger man. The way he would hunch over, how he would ball himself up into his seat, the way he seemed to speak as fast as he could whenever he had someone's attention before his allotted time was up. Aaron began to leave space for Reid to bloom, letting him speak about the things he wanted to whenever there were no time sensitive matters at hand.
Whenever he saw another piece of Reid emerge from its hiding spot, something within him followed suit.
Penelope Garcia was a force that he was utterly thrown by and drawn to, simultaneously. She was so loud, in more ways than the literal. Her unashamedly bright clothes rivaled her personality and Aaron almost envied her. When he was focused on the work, he sometimes didn't have room for her colorful words but sometimes, despite himself, he would smile.
Another part of him unfurled, and the thing within grew a little more.
Elle Greenaway was someone he understood. He saw her drive right from the start and felt a tug of recognition. She just wanted a chance and he related to that deep in his bones. There was no question that she did good work. She joined the team and he knew it would be a good fit. The first time she made a joke that pulled a laugh from his chest, they both stared at each other with surprise. Maybe hers was mixed with a little more delight than his.
But he felt the swell of the thing growing, getting very close to filling him up to the edges.
Jennifer Jareau was a whirlwind, she looked over cases with a speed and intensity that he admired. The way she knew just what to say to the press to keep them as informed as possible while ensuring they still had control over the message was a skill he appreciated. When she teased him about his stoic outwardly appearance, he only felt a smile pulling at his lips when before he would’ve vanished into himself.
With these people, he didn’t have to be “the other one” or “your brother” or “hey, you” or even “Aaron.” He could just be Hotch.
And here, Hotch was a part of the team. Not just any part, but an integral part. They didn’t only need him, but they wanted him.
He felt it in the way that Reid moved unconsciously to save him a spot right next to him in line as they delivered a profile.
When Morgan lifted his arm to clap him on the shoulder, and Hotch had absolutely no fear that his hand would come crashing down on him.
In the moments when Gideon pulled him aside to give him praise in the veiled manner that he had learned how to decipher over the years.
When Elle would notice he hadn’t smiled in a while and crack a joke to make him laugh.
When JJ would bring food over while they were working long cases and offer him his favorite burger.
On a slow day, when Gideon would show him a rare coin he had managed to find, smiling at Hotch’s excitement, and then pressed it into his palm wordlessly.
In the field, when he could hold a confiscated weapon behind him without looking and know that Reid would be there to take it from him.
When Morgan would bust a door open and Hotch could go in first, confident that he had his back.
When Garcia would work at the speed of light based on his suggestions and then compliment his thought process, saying they were unstoppable together.
The thing that had been steadily growing in the depths of his being was now firmly in place. He couldn’t hide away even if he tried. And he didn’t want to.
There were spaces carved out for him all around the members of his team. He didn’t just grow with them, but he grew around them.
This place was made just for him.
He had finally found where he belonged.
And he never wanted to leave.
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queen-haq · 2 days
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Fic: Never You (Penelope x Colin) - Part 5
Fandom: Bridgerton (TV show)
Spoilers: S3 released scenes.
Summary: They may have been friends once but his callous words decimated their relationship. Determined not to have anything to do with him, Penelope is ready to move on. But Colin isn’t giving up, not at all. Friends or not, they are connected for life - and he intends to remind her of that.
Excerpt:
“You would hate me for not wanting to court you. You would be that selfish?”
“Of course you would think that.”
“What else is this if not punishment?”
Masterlist (contains links to previous parts and my other stories)
Part 5
“Open the door this instant, Penelope!”
Hearing the banging on her door and her mama’s voice yelling from the other side, Penelope quickly put away her writing materials. The newest Lady Whistledown column sheet was almost ready. She had planned to complete it while Prudence and Portia were busy entertaining callers this afternoon only to be interrupted repeatedly. Irritated, she walked to the door and opened it, allowing Portia Featherington to barge in.
In her mother’s hands was a lovely bouquet of lilies which Portia placed on the nearby desk.
“The Bridgerton boy is here.” There was no mirth on Portia’s face, her striking eyes gleaming as she confronted Pen.
“Is he?”
“Which, I know, you’re already aware of because Mrs. Varley came up here to inform you.”
Pen kept her mouth shut.
“Is there a reason you turned down his invitation for a promenade?”
“I don’t feel well.”
“Not good enough, Penelope! When a gentleman comes to call on you, you must always say yes!”
“Even on our deathbeds,” Pen muttered under her breath.
“Yes, even then,” Portia retaliated. “Martha!” She screamed, calling for Penelope’s maid. “Wear something suitable for your walk with that boy. There will be others who see you in the park.”
“I thought he left?”
“Fortunately, he did not.”
“Mama, he’s not courting me. We’re just friends. You know that, right?”
“It doesn’t matter. He’s a Bridgerton. Where he leads, others will follow and that is the only thing working in your favour in your advanced age.”
And with that statement Portia stormed out, leaving Pen alone with Martha in her chamber.
“These flowers are beautiful, Miss. I’ll put them in water.”
Pen watched as Martha busied herself with the vibrant, varying colors of the bouquet. In one of their letters she had mentioned to Colin about her newfound appreciation of lilies, and apparently he had kept that in mind.
“Shall I fetch the orange dress for you, Miss?” Martha asked, returning to her.
“No, the pale green one please. And the matching shawl.”
As Martha scurried about, Pen took a deep breath to calm her nerves.
***
Penelope exited her home and headed down the stairs, Martha following behind her. Her mother was watching them through the window, taking note of everything going on, and Pen didn’t want to give her mama anything new to harp about. Colin, of course, was using her reticence to his full advantage. He stood on the sidewalk, a wicked smirk on his face, looking more handsome than any gentleman had a right to. Pen ignored the flutter of butterflies in her stomach, reminding herself how angry she was at him. What she wanted to do was take him to task for calling on her when she repeatedly asked him not to. Instead, she was forced to greet him with a stiff smile.
“Mr. Bridgerton,” she said coldly, stopping in front of him.
His smirk transitioned into a full smile. “Pen,” he said with a deliberate languid drawl, trying to goad her no doubt.
“Mama is at the window.”
“I’m aware.” Colin’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Shall we promenade?”
Penelope glanced over her shoulder and found her mother watching her like a hawk. She turned back to Colin. “Forcing me into this wasn’t very gentlemanly of you.”
He quirked his eyebrow. “Perhaps I’m no longer a gentleman.”
“Maybe you never were.”
She wanted to offend him but he seemed impervious to her taunts, instead offering her his arm for their walk together. Aggravated, she ignored him and started down the path by herself. Within seconds he was next to her, his long strides now matching her own pace, with Martha following behind them.   
“Did you like the lilies?” Colin asked.
“I did not.”
He simply smiled. “That’s unfortunate. Maybe I’ll bring roses in the future.”
“Absolutely not!” she huffed. “Mama will get the wrong idea.”
“We are friends, Penelope,” he reminded her. “Friends give each other gifts. We’ve exchanged them in the past.”
“Never in front of Mama!”
“And I’ve visited you before,” he insisted.
“No, you haven’t. We’ve always only spoken at your home or social gatherings. In fact the only other time you came with flowers was to call on Marina.” The grimace on his face made her heart squeeze with envy. Even after all this time simply saying her cousin’s name evoked such a strong reaction in him. But as much as the idea of him still harboring feelings for Marina hurt, she wasn’t going to let pain distract from her focus. “I can’t have you encouraging foolish ideas in Mama’s head.”
He clenched his jaw, agitated. “Is this really about Lady Portia or are you worried your mystery suitor will get jealous?”
She stopped midstride, turning to level him with a hostile glare. “He knows there’s nothing between you and me.”
Colin took a step towards her. The blues of his eyes darkened, blazing with emotion. “Even after last night?” His voice was a throaty murmur, his words only meant for her ears.
Her heart quickened, His gaze drifted down to her lips, pausing momentarily, as if he was remembering touching her, the feel of his hot mouth on her skin. And then his sight travelled lower, to where he licked and kissed her chest, and the lovebites he left on her breasts that she had to scrupulously hide behind a scarf this morning lest her mother noticed. The way he was looking at her set her body on fire, she felt it intimately between her legs.
They were surrounded by people, yet it felt like it was only the two of them. As she found herself drowning in the depth of his eyes, the world ceased to exist.
And then the image of his panic-stricken expression flashed through her mind, reminding her of how horrified he was after kissing her.
Instantly she pulled away, turning away from him. She started walking faster, trying to regain her composure in the few short seconds it took for Colin to catch up to her.
“You can’t pretend it didn’t happen, Pen.”
“You’re right, I can’t. But that doesn’t mean I’ll allow a moment of foolishness to sway me from what’s important.”
“I know you. You wouldn’t have kissed me that way if you really loved someone else.”.
It was the conceit in his words that infuriated her. “Is that so, Colin?” She turned to confront him. “Didn’t you proudly claim to have flirted with half the women in London? I’m sure you’ kissed many of them. Will you stand there and tell me you cared for all of them? That all those ladies held a special place in your heart? Or will you be honest and admit a kiss can just be a kiss without it meaning anything?”
His eyes narrowed onto her. “Do you expect me to believe our kiss meant nothing to you?”
“Don’t treat me like a naïve debutante, Colin. I’m fully aware passion can exist without love.”
“But that wouldn’t be true for us, would it?” He didn’t move, yet it felt like his body swayed closer, encroaching on her personal space, making it impossible for her to think. Even breathe. “Because there is love between us. There always has been.”
Her heart pounded in her chest. For so long she’d yearned for his love, ached for it. Over the years there were so many times she thought herself a fool for even thinking he could love her. But then he would seek her out in a crowd to dance with her, they would talk about things they dare not discuss with others, and the hope in her heart would bloom despite her insecurities. Just like it did now. “Speak clearly, Colin. Do you love me?”
“Of course I love you. I’ve loved you since we were children. You’re my dearest friend.”
“But are you in love with me?”
“Are you?”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. There were children playing in the park, families around them talking and laughing. Yet all she felt was Colin’s piercing gaze tear through her, the air thick with tension as the minutes ticked by. “Yes. Even though I desperately wish I wasn’t.”
His face ran the whole gamut of emotions, from utter shock to panic to fear. “I… Pen…”
“You’re not in love with me,” she stated matter-of-factly.
“No.”
His response didn’t come as a surprise, she had always known the truth. And despite the pain that wracked through her, she felt relief. Because she would no longer have to wonder. Now there was certainty and it brought with it a strong desire to move on.
There was much trepidation in his voice as he spoke next. “I’m sorry if I-”
“There’s no need to apologize.” Her voice was calm, steady. “You haven’t done anything wrong.” She glanced behind him, her eyes absently taking in the view behind. “We can’t help who we love.” There was a numbness that slowly spread through her, enveloping her heart, her very being.
“I care for you, Pen. And I know you, you’re kind and sweet and want to see the best in people. Which is why I’m worried-.”
“You don’t know me,” she replied, snapping out of her daze.  His face came back into focus, along with the rest of the world. “Not really. You’ve only seen certain facets, parts that I’ve chosen to show. I’ve always been so worried about what others would think, of being palatable to my family, to you and Eloise, to society… and for what? What was even the point?” She started pacing, her mind reeling.
As much as she aspired to be good, she could never fully commit to it. Lady Whistledown was borne from the part of her that wanted retribution against the ton for always ignoring her. In the clear light of day she was voiceless and unwanted, but in the shadows was where she thrived, where her words meant something and she had value and control. There was a time when she used to think the different parts of her could coexist and she could still be more good than bad, but Eloise’s words during their last argument proved otherwise.
“What are you talking about?” He blocked her path, forcing her to look up at him. A confused expression marked his beautiful face. ”I’ve always known who you are.”
She peered up at him. Everything he said about her – kind and sweet and only seeing the best in people – was actually true of Colin himself. He deserved someone who was equally beautiful and kind, and that would never be her.   “You’ve been a good friend, to me and my family. And I appreciate your concern but I can look out for myself. Arthur is a good man-”
“Arthur?” The sudden vitriol in Colin’s voice was sharp. “Arthur what?”
“That’s not important,” she said dismissively. “What matters is you no longer have to worry about me, Colin. I absolve you of that responsibility.”
“You do, do you?” Anger laced his voice, his eyes growing dark with contempt. “Because of this Arthur?” He took a step forward, crowding her, the proximity between them so close that she could feel his breath humming her skin, could almost feel the touch of his fingers against her gloves. “Tell me, Penelope, does he know you?  Did you show him all the parts of you that you claim to have kept hidden from the rest of us?”
Irritation surged through her at his mocking tone, but she reminded herself to be patient. “He understands me better than most.”
“A man you’ve known for mere months?” Colin’s eyes glistened with fury. “Why does he get that privilege? What has he done to earn your trust so easily?”
The hate in his voice took her by surprise. “Why are you behaving this way, Colin? I thought you would be happy for me.”
Jaw clenched, anger masking his features, his eyes roamed over her face. “You expect me to live a life without you in it and be happy about it?”
“So what should I do, be a spinster for the rest of my life to appease you? Do you not see how selfish that is?”
“I don’t give a damn!”
Penelope noticed the glances thrown in their direction, the look of concern in Martha’s face. Even though Colin hadn’t raised his voice, the tension on his face made it clear they were having an argument. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm him down. “This isn’t who you are, Colin.”
“Isn’t it? Maybe it’s you who doesn’t know me.” He dipped his head lower, his eyes smoldering with rage. “Maybe I’ve always been unreasonable and selfish. Maybe I’m willing to do whatever it takes to protect the people who matter to me.”
She didn’t know if the threat in his voice was deliberately meant to scare her but it elicited the opposite reaction, provoking her anger. “You’re not my guardian or my protector. I’m not your responsibility. I don’t need anything from you.”
Instead of backing off, his voice grew more determined. “You don’t have a choice in this matter, Penelope. I will not lose you.”
“Except I’m not yours to lose. I do not belong to you. You don’t get to make demands on me when you don’t even love me,” she reminded him coldly. “I will marry the man I choose and live the life I want. And it’s you who has no say in that matter.”
Feeling strongly in her resolve, she turned and walked away.
To be continued...
A/N - Thank you for reading. If you have the time, I'd love to read your feedback!
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darnell-la · 1 day
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Stepdad - Eddie Munson
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pairing: stepdad!eddie munson x badgirl!reader
warning: step-family sex, age gap, stuffed animal holding (I swear, it's not what you think!), hair pulling, choking, spanking during sex, orgasms, creampie, gripping, begging, loud sex, rough sex, etc.
WE DO NOT ALLOW COPIES OF OUR STORIES!
————————————————————————
3rd person pov
Y/n and Eddie didn’t get off great when they first met. They always had arguments and said backhanded things about each other. Their mother couldn’t fix it, but the more it happened, the more y/n realized her mother didn’t care.
Her mother has never been nice to her. She took custody knowing y/n would get along better with her father than her mother, yet she doesn’t care about that either.
After y/n’s father died, the relationship died completely between her and her mother. Her mom knew that and went out to find someone she could finally care about.
Eddie Munson is the lucky man she found, and well, he feels like he isn’t so lucky. Yes, he loved y/n’s mom at first, but after he noticed the way she treated and talked about y/n, he fell out of it.
The only reason why he’s in the very house right now, sitting on the couch and watching a movie while his wife gets dressed, is because he felt like he couldn’t leave y/n.
Her first thought was that his feelings towards y/n were feelings he’d have if he had his own kids, but the older she got, the more he noticed.
The dating. Her clothes. Her phone contacts. Her friends. The parties. How she spoke. How she matured. Everything hit him at once it seemed.
“Hey, babe! I’m almost done getting ready. Are you sure you don’t want to come along!?” Y/n’s mom yelled downstairs from upstairs.
As she and Eddie yelled back and forth at each other, y/n got herself ready. Whenever her mom goes out, y/n sneaks out. I mean. She’s almost a full adult and the drinking age will be legal soon. She refuses to sit back and wait.
“Y/n, I’m leaving!” Her mom yelled outside the door then walked off to go downstairs. “Make sure she doesn’t annoy you all night,” Y/n’s mom told Eddie before giving him a peck.
“Oh, she won’t. She’s always in her room anyways,” Eddie said before talking about a few things with Y/n’s mother until she finally left.
“Aye, y/n!? You hungry!?” Eddie asked, standing in front of the stairs. “No!” Y/n yelled back, still touching up her makeup. She’s always overdramatic when she walks out of the house.
“Oh, well, okay,” Eddie slightly felt hurt by the way she always answered him. She doesn’t mean to, after years of living in this household, she feels like everyone’s against her.
Y/n quickly got finished before sneaking out of her second-story window. It’s always a hassle, but she got it and she knows she can sneak through the back window when she comes back because Eddie will be asleep by then as always.
“Hey, y/n! Why don’t you come down and watch a movie! I know it’s a bit late, but I think we should, I don’t know, hang out more!” Eddie suggested at the bottom of the stairs, hoping she’d say yes but she never answered.
“C’mon, y/n, we should really get along more! Your mom’s gone. Maybe I’ll let you have a sip of my beer or something,” Eddie suggested anything at this point, but she still didn’t answer.
Eddie slowly made his way upstairs with a sigh, talking to himself to rehearse what he what to say to her. She’s basically her daughter, and they never talk. He hates not seeing her.
“Sweetheart, c’mon. Don’t leave ya old man hanging,” Eddie said outside of her door. “Y/n, seriously,” Eddie knocked before placing his hand on the handle to open the door but it was locked.
“Hey, what did I and your mother discuss? No more locked doors,” Eddie said which he didn’t totally agree with, but she was not answering him, making him panicked.
Eddie wasted no time to push the door open with his strength and then grow a shocked look across his face. “Y/n!?” Eddie shouted out, hoping she was hiding in the room until he saw that her window was open.
“Son of a bitch,” Eddie cussed as he pulled his cheap phone out of his pocket. It took him a while, but he got to the tracking app he downloaded his phone and secretly hid on hers with her mother’s permission.
“Who the fuck-“ Eddie cut himself off, noticing she was in a familiar rich neighborhood. He hasn’t stepped foot in that neighborhood since Steve moved. He’s not welcomed there by certain people.
“And who are you?” An older voice said behind y/n, making her jump a bit. “Oh, hey. I’m, uh, my name's y/n,” she stuttered as she placed her 4th cup of the night down.
“Aren’t supposed to be drinkin’, hm?” The man asked, making her blush in slight fear and embarrassment. She hated it when people noticed her age. She only has a year to go.
“Aw, don’t worry. This is my party anyway. I’d go to jail if I called the cops to come get you,” he said. Yn sighed in relief before picking her back up and holding a small conversation with him.
He seemed nice, but she knows older people’s intentions when they hold conversations with kids they’ve never seen or talked to before.
“Where’s your boyfriend tonight?” Jason asked. He gave him her name a few minutes ago when he started bragging about his golden days in high school. “I don’t have one,” she awkwardly smiled.
“Well, isn’t that something,” he smirked down at her as he took a sip of his beer. “Why is that? Daddy won’t let ya?” He asked. “Stepdad, and no, that’s not why. I just- I don’t like immature boys,” she said, making Jason chuckle.
“Hm, really? Want someone older?” He asked. “Kinda, yeah,” she admitted. “That’s called daddy issues, princess,” Jason said as he leaned toward her. She didn’t notice because she was giggling to herself. After all, he knows he isn’t wrong.
“I can help you with that, you know?” He said, not inches from her face. “Oh,” she said, growing shy. She hasn’t been hit on a man this close before. This is different than the other times.
Y/n went to speak, but she focused on a man at the front door. It’s her stepdad. “H-Hey, I’ll talk to you later, okay?” Y/n said before quickly speeding off towards the stairs.
As soon as she took her eyes off of Eddie, it was like his eyes quickly connected to her figure walking upstairs. He knew she had seen him. She looked in a rush to get up.
As Eddie looked around, he heard a familiar voice call out y/n’s name. At first, he’d thought it was one of y/n’s friends maybe, but when he noticed who it was, his blood boiled.
Jason Carver was talking to his stepdaughter. What a creep. He’s always gotten what he wanted back then. He’s always gotten what Eddie wanted…
Eddie quickly stormed upstairs, wasting no time barging into every room there was until he saw y/n trying to climb out a window in this kid's room.
He knew this house was familiar. Jason had kids with Chrissy, but they’ve recently divorced, so their kids moved from one house to the other.
“Nah uh,” Eddie said as he got ahold of y/n and pulled her in. Y/n sighed in anger, angry that she’d finally been caught. “What the hell are you thinking!?” Eddie shouted.
“Was just having fun,” y/n rolled her eyes as she crossed her arms. “Having fun? At a grown man’s house!?” Eddie yelled at her as she continued to give attitude-like looks.
“You’re not my real dad, so you have no say in my life,” Y/n said with full confidence. Eddie completely stopped talking, surprised at her words at first. He knew she always felt like that, but he wasn’t ready for it to come out of her mouth.
“You’re right. I'm not, but I’m still trying to protect you, and this is not safe. We’re leaving,” Eddie demanded as he went to grab y/n’s wrist, but she pulled back and slapped his hand away.
“Don’t fuckin’ touch me. I’m staying here whether you like it or not,” y/n said, staying her ground against her stepfather. “Oh, is that so?” He asked, making her nod her head.
“If you stay and drink more than you already have. I can spell the damn liquor. Then whatever happens to you, is not my fault. I warned you,” he said, hoping she’d get scared about a possible situation, but she’s not a kid anymore.
“Okay? Not like you cared anyways,” Y/n said. “What are you even talking about!? I’ve always cared for you but you make it so fucking hard to! You always bitch around and leave after a minor agreement that you started!” Eddie yelled in her face.
Y/n’s face instantly changed, as well as her attitude. Hearing that come from Eddie is making her feel bad because it’s true. She pushes away.
“Whatever,” y/n said as her eyes teared up a bit. “No, there’s no whatever! There’s never a whatever! I’m trying to fix us, and you’re just letting it die! Stop letting shit die with people who care for your y/n!” Eddie grew angry.
He’s been wanting to say things for years, but he felt that it was inappropriate because she’s not his daughter.
“Eddie, just leave me alone,” Y/n said as she turned her body to leave, but Eddie got in her face before backing her up to a bed in the room as he kept going.
“You’re always leaving. Always avoiding arguments. You’re stuck up and a fuckin’ brat. You’re an adult but a little fucking brat,” Eddie said as y/n leaned her upper body back as Eddie’s got closer.
“I just-“ y/n tried saying but Eddie shut her up by grabbing her face with a hand. “Shut the fuck up!” Eddie yelled loudly. So loud, it made her ears ring and the room echo.
“I’m done with your shit. Your mom never does anything about this fucking attitude,” Eddie spoke after a few seconds of silence. “Well, I am,” Eddie added before pushing Y/n’s body hard, making her fall on the bed behind her.
“Hey, what the fuck,” Y/n said as she tried leaning back up, angry that he put his hands in her. “What did I say!?” Eddie yelled again, making y/n look up at him. The view she saw, widened her eyes.
“Eddie,” Y/n said low as she watched him continue what he was doing. He quickly pulled his belt off of the straps and then threw them right next to y/n on the bed before messing around with his jeans.
“Eddie?” Y/n asked, hoping he’d answer and maybe calm down at her low and calm voice. “No speaking,” Eddie said as he pulled his pants and boxers down, just enough for his cock to fall out.
Usually when y/n has sex with a boy, their cocks jump and slap against their lower stomach. Eddie’s fell out from his big and heavy he is.
“Eddie, what the fuck are you doing? What- What are you thinking!?” Y/n panicked at the sudden feeling of being trapped in mixed emotions and in a room with her stepdad.
“Spread,” Eddie demanded as he looked down at his stepdaughter. “What!? Hell no,” y/n said as she got up but he pushed her right back down with a sigh and eye roll.
“Spears your fucking legs. Now!” He seemed more serious this time, but y/n couldn’t just give herself up to him. Her stepdad.
Y/n quickly turned around to crawl off the bed, but he quickly grabbed her ankles and pulled her back. She tried grabbing things to hold on to, but the big stuffed animal didn’t help her.
“Told you. Avoidance,” Eddie said under his breath as he forced y/n to her knees on the bed then pushed her back down, making sure her ass was nice and spread in the air as her face was smudged against the teddy bear.
“How come you don’t dress like this around me?” Eddie chuckled before ripping y/n’s fishnets right where her panties stuck out. Now he has a clear view of her cunt barely firing in her tight panties.
“Does your mom know about this? Because I don’t think she’ll take too lightly of her daughter being a little whore,” Eddie’s words should bruh y/n, but they didn’t. She was taking it all in.
“I bet you’ll start crying like you always do,” y/n could hear the smirk on Eddie’s mouth as his top rubbed up and down her clothes lips until he finally decided to rip them apart.
“Jessie Christ,” Eddie groaned under his breath as he reached out to wipe his fingers along her folds. “So wet,” he spoke before putting his fingers in his mouth and sucking. “And sweet,” he added.
“Eddie, I don’t think we should be-“ y/n tried speaking until a hard slap came down on her ass, making her cry out loud. “What the fuck did I say? Shut. The fuck. Up,” Eddie grabbed y/n’s hair to pull her back and whisper those words in her ear.
“Don’t make me hurt you,” he said then pushed her back down. Y/n whined low, knowing she couldn’t say anything right now, or he’d definitely hurt her, but she knew he would make sure she got some fun out of it.
“Let’s see if my cock fits in this pretty pussy,” Eddie spread y/n’s right cheek wide until her hole opened a little for him to see and scan how he should enter her.
Before she knew it, his top finally pushed at her entrance. “Mhm,” y/n moaned as she jerked at the feeling of being stretched so slowly. “P-Please,” y/n begged, not knowing if she’d be able to take him all.
“Y/n,” Eddie spoke her name to warn her, she she quickly got the sign before he forced his way all the way inside of her. “Fuuuck!” Eddie groaned loudly as he threw his head back.
“So tight,” Eddie grunted as he pulled back slowly, watching his stepdaughter's cunt wrap tightly around him, trying not to let him go. “Fuckin’ suckin’ me back in,” Eddie groaned before pushing back into her.
“Agh!” Y/n moaned loudly into the teddy bear. “Take it, baby,” Eddie said before thrusting his hips at a good paste, letting his little girl get used to him so he could finally ruin her.
“I knew this was what you wanted, baby. Always saw it in those slutty eyes,” Eddie spoke as he gripped y/n’s ass to pull her into him. The slapping and wet noises didn’t take long to fill the room.
“C-Can’t,” y/n whined as her legs began to shake. “What the fuck did I-“ Eddie cut himself if quickly, noticing he’s been giving her too many chances. He’s done with that.
Eddie quickly leaned to the side and grabbed the belt he had thrown to the side of her earlier. He wasted no time wrapping the leather and metal part around his hands before extending the belt and then bringing it down onto her ass.
“Ow!” Y/n cried out loud. She’s never been whooped before. “Shut it!” Eddie kept fucking into her as he slapped her ass with the cheap belt he’s always thought about using on her.
“You’ll never be too old to get spankin’,” Eddie said, bringing another slap down to her ass as she beg for him to stop. At first, she couldn’t handle it and wanted it all to stop, but after awhile few more spanks, she noticed how much the knot in her stomach got hard to hold.
“F-Fuck, Eddie, fuck!” She moaned loudly as she gripped the stuffed animal tightly and came all around his cock. “That’s it, baby, that’s it. Keep cumin’. Keep it comin’,” Eddie threw the belt away before gripping y/n’s waist to speed up his fuck.
Y/n’s stepdad threw his head back, breathing and huffing like an animal as his stepdaughter's ass clapped back onto his pelvis and lowers stomach, repeatedly.
“Oh god, Eddie,” y/n moaned as her cunt throbbed around his thick cock. “Call me daddy, y/n,” Eddie said, knowing it sounded wrong, but he had to. “Huh?” Y/n asked softly, still dizzy from the orgasm and also a bit shy to do such a thing to her actual stepdad.
“Call me daddy, sweetheart. Fuck, I need it. I fuckin’ need it, baby,” Eddie’s voice cracked and a few moans slipped from his mouth. He could feel himself right around the corner, and he needed to hear her before he came.
“D-Daddy,” y/n shyly moaned, making Eddie groan and grip her sides harder than before. “Fuck, y/n, more. I n-need more,” Eddie begged his own stepdaughter to call him daddy.
“Daddy, please,” y/n finally moaned loud enough for him to be satisfied. He was going to leave it at that before she kept going. “P-Please, Daddy, please,” she kept moaning. “Agh, fuck, y/n,” Eddie leaned over to grab the moaning girl's hair and arch her back enough for him to watch her ass clap back at him and see her facial expressions.
“Daddy, fuck!” Y/n shook again as her clit began throbbing out of control. “Fuck, y/n, fuck,” Eddie cussed before slamming deep into her throbbing pussy to fill her until there was nothing left.
“Ah, shit,” Eddie’s voice cracked as he fell slumped onto y/n’a back, slightly crushing her, but she had no problem with it. Feeling him still leak inside her as her pussy throbbed around his cock was one of the best things that’s happened to her tonight.
“Divorcing her, we move out, and we get together. I knew what kind of person she was years ago, but I couldn’t leave you. You’ve always been drown to me whether it was a little girl who needed help or a 20-year-old who needed a man to take care of her,” Eddie spoke before he lit y/n’s blunt that he rolled up for her in his car.
They decided to take a ride around the neighborhood until they came to a stop at this park to talk and smoke.
“I’m fine with that. I don’t like her anyways,” y/n admitted as Eddie chuckled and placed a hand on y/n’s lap. “You know, this is all daddy issues, right? There’s no way in hell I’d take you if it weren’t for that,” y/n joked, making Eddie laugh.
“Oh, yes you would have. You’d have no choice,” Eddie leaned into y/n with a smile before she leaned in herself to kiss him. The kiss felt like no other before to the both of them.
“You know how pretty you are?” Eddie asked in between their kiss. “How about you show me?” Y/n asked as she grabbed his joint and placed her and his down before quickly moving on top of him.
“Out here, princess? What if we get caught? I’m not gonna stop fuckin’ you,” Eddie warned. That already made her pussy throb. Again. “Then do it,” she challenged as she quickly pulled his heavy cock out and slid down onto him.
“Fuck,” she moaned low as Eddie threw his head back. “Gotta love or you’ll get stuck,” Eddie joked as he grabbed a hand full of y/n’s ass to pull her up and then push her back down.
“What if I wanna get stuck, Daddy?” She teased, as he shackled with a groan. “Don’t,” he said as he knee-bucked into her at the thought of her calling him that. He knows he shouldn’t like it, but he loves it so fucking much.
“Why not, Daddy?” She asked as she slowly leaned into his neck and began kissing and leaving bite marks. “Y-You’re mom, sweetheart,” Eddie made sure she knew the consequences.
“Fuck me in front of her. Who gives a shit,” y/n moved inches from Eddie’s lips with a smile as he smiled. “You’re such a bad girl,” Eddie pushed up into y/n, making her throw her head back with an eye roll.
“That’s what I need,” Eddie spoke as he grabbed one of the joints to take a few hits before passing it on to y/n. “I fuck a lot, so I need you to keep up,” y/n said, slightly triggering Eddie’s head.
“Oh, I will, but may I ask, who have you been fucking?” Eddie grabbed the joint from y/n’s hand so he could take his hits. He still doesn’t want his girl getting too high. She’s not at the legal age yet.
“Doesn’t matter now,” y/n said as Eddie kept the joint in his mouth and slowly snacked his hands up her body until he gripped her neck tightly. “You should have never told me,” Eddie said before using his free hand to lean his seat back.
Eddie moved y/n around and he got in a good position to fuck into y/n as she tried keeping her body up. “G-God,” y/n tried laughing it off, but the way his cock abused her inside made it hard.
“S-Slow down, fuck!” Y/n placed her hands on his chest but slipped and fell against him. Eddie gripped her and pulled her face to the side so he could keep the blunt in his mouth as he pounded up into her like he’d never done before.
“Think I can’t keep up now?” Eddie asked before laughing as y/n moaned in the crook of his neck. “Fuck, Daddy,” y/n tried teasing, but she’s in no position for that right now.
Eddie placed the joint down as he took a complete halt to his movements. Y/n’s stepdad roughly turned Y/n around and pushed her back onto the seat.
“Are you mad?” Y/n slightly giggled as Eddie came in between her legs and then slammed into her, causing her to scream loudly. He quickly covered his mouth because his car windows were down.
“Shut the fuck up,” he spoke, back in angry mode as he gripped y/n’s hair with his free hand and pulled her head back. “Agh!” Y/n moaned loudly as her eyes rolled back and her legs began to shake.
“Yeah,” y/n growled as he licked y/n’s cheek and down to her neck before sucking and leaving bite marks. Eddie groaned on her neck as y/n groaned into his palm and came around him again tonight.
The both of them couldn’t get enough of each other. Who knew something like this could happen to people who once couldn’t have a simple and normal conversation with each other.
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thelvsickgirl · 2 days
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Hi Sofia.
I know you know who I am. I keep it anon because I don't want people to know who I am and why Im writing you for.
I know you're a busy person, and you won't respond me in a while, but I just wanted to ask you one thing: Can you please write a Jude fic?
Just one. You know why im asking you this. I know you're an amazing writer, and I just want people to see that as well.
Do it with whatever idea you have in mind, and whenever you feel comfortable doing so.
Thank you.
-🐾
Hey. I definitely know who you are ms. anon. I hope you like it, because it took me several weeks to do. Way longer than i expected this to turn out, but i guess it turned out great.
letting you in.
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word count: yes.
tw: a bit of angst, divorced parents, toxic household (kinda)
genres: fluff, angst (not ready to make my debut w smut)
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: It seems like a perfect relationship, but what will you do when the ghosts of your past haunt you, making your self confidence's walls crumble?
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In the heart of a vibrant city, amidst the roar of enthusiastic fans and the energy of the football stadium, there existed a bustling sports bar named "Offside" It was a sanctuary for those seeking the thrill of the game and the camaraderie of fellow supporters. Among its regular patrons was a young woman named y/n, whose passion for football matched that of the most ardent fan.
But Y/n's love for the game wasn't merely a casual interest; it was a lifeline, a refuge from the storms that had raged in her past. Born into a family plagued by dysfunction and discord, y/n had learned from an early age to bury her emotions beneath a façade of strength and resilience. Her parents' tumultuous relationship had cast a shadow over her childhood, leaving her with deep-seated insecurities and a fear of abandonment.
As she navigated the turbulent waters of adolescence, Y/n sought solace in the world of football, finding comfort in the rhythm of the game and the camaraderie of fellow fans. It was on the pitch that she felt truly alive, her worries melting away as she cheered on her favorite team with unwavering devotion.
But despite her outward bravado, y/n carried the scars of her past—a past marked by loss and heartache. Her parents' bitter divorce had shattered her world, leaving her adrift in a sea of uncertainty and despair. And though she tried to bury the pain beneath a veneer of indifference, the wounds remained raw and unhealed, a constant reminder of the fragility of love.
As she entered adulthood, y/n found herself drifting aimlessly, unable to shake the feeling of emptiness that gnawed at her soul. She threw herself into her studies and her job, hoping to distract herself from the turmoil within. But no matter how hard she tried to outrun her demons, they always seemed to catch up with her, dragging her back into the depths of despair.
"Why am I not good enough?"
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It was on a fateful matchday evening, as y/n sat alone at the sports bar, drowning her sorrows in a sea of beer and cheers, that she first laid eyes on him. Jude Bellingham, the star player of her favorite football team, stood at the bar, his presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room. Despite his fame and fortune, he seemed strangely out of place, his gaze betraying a hint of vulnerability beneath the mask of confidence.
As y/n watched him from afar, a spark of recognition ignited within her—a sense of kinship born from shared struggles and silent battles fought in the shadows. She knew all too well the weight of expectations, the suffocating pressure to conform to society's standards. And though their worlds seemed worlds apart, she couldn't shake the feeling that they were more alike than they appeared.
Summoning her courage, she approached Jude, her heart pounding in her chest. "Hi," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "I'm y/n. Can I buy you a drink?"
To her surprise, Jude smiled gratefully, his eyes lighting up with genuine warmth. "I'd like that," he replied, his voice tinged with relief.
Their conversation flowed effortlessly as they bonded over their shared love for the game, and y/n found herself drawn to Jude in ways she couldn't explain. Despite his celebrity status, he was remarkably down-to-earth, his humility and kindness shining through with every word he spoke. She couldn't stop analysing his chiseled face features, eyeing down every part of him.
As the evening wore on, y/n and Jude discovered a connection that transcended fame and fortune, their shared passion for football forging a bond that felt destined to withstand the test of time. They laughed and joked like old friends, their worries and insecurities melting away in each other's presence.
"This place is way too crowded. Mind to go on a walk?" Jude asked, frowning as some hooligans threw beer jugs to the floor as the local team missed a penalty.
"Please."
With a mischievous grin, Jude led her to a hidden rooftop oasis, where the city skyline stretched out before them in a breathtaking panorama. In a bold and impulsive move, he leaned in, capturing y/n 's lips in a spontaneous kiss—a gesture fueled by the intoxicating rush of the moment.
Though taken aback, the girl felt a surge of exhilaration as their lips met—a whirlwind of emotions colliding in the space between them. And as they lingered in each other's embrace, the city whispered its secrets, weaving their fates together in the tapestry of the night.
----
Their budding relationship blossomed quickly as they explored the city together, attending matches and immersing themselves in the electric atmosphere of the country's stadiums. Jude, ever the gentleman, often surprised y/n with tickets to VIP events and exclusive gatherings, eager to share his world with her.
One memorable evening, the man invited her to join him in the VIP section of his home stadium, a gesture that left her speechless with excitement. As they watched the game from their plush seats, surrounded by the glittering lights of the city skyline, y/n couldn't help but feel like she was living in a dream.
But their moment of bliss was short-lived, as they were soon accosted by paparazzi eager to capture their every move. Flashes of light blinded the girl as reporters bombarded them with questions, their invasive inquiries threatening to shatter the illusion of privacy they had worked so hard to maintain.
Fearing for y/n 's safety, Jude would usually usher her away from the chaos, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. Despite the intrusion, she couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for Jude's unwavering support, his reassuring presence serving as a beacon of hope in the midst of chaos.
As they retreated to the sanctuary of the player's home, y/n found herself overwhelmed by a whirlwind of emotions—gratitude, awe, and an overwhelming sense of love for the remarkable man standing beside her. In that moment, amidst the chaos of the outside world, she knew that she had found something worth fighting for—a love that transcended fame and fortune, a love that was as boundless as the sky above them.
But even as they basked in the glow of their newfound happiness, a shadow loomed on the horizon, threatening to tear them apart. The girl's past, with its ghosts and demons, resurfaced with a vengeance, casting a pall over their relationship.
Haunted by memories of her tumultuous childhood, y/n found herself consumed by doubt and insecurity, her fears driving a wedge between her and Jude. Despite his best efforts to reassure her, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was unworthy of his love—that she was destined to repeat the mistakes of her past.
As tensions simmered between them, Jude struggled to break through y/n's defenses, his heart aching with the knowledge that she was slipping away from him. Desperate to salvage their relationship, he suggested couples therapy, hoping to address the underlying issues that had driven them apart.
Reluctantly, she agreed, her heart heavy with guilt and regret. But as they delved into the depths of their shared history, confronting the traumas that had shaped their lives, she found herself unraveling before his eyes, her carefully constructed walls crumbling beneath the weight of her emotions.
And yet, amidst the tears and the turmoil, there was a glimmer of hope—a flicker of light in the darkness that threatened to consume them. For in each other's arms, they found solace and strength, their love a beacon of hope in a world fraught with uncertainty.
As they emerged from the crucible of therapy, battered but unbroken, y/n and Jude found themselves more deeply in love than ever before. And though their journey was short and had been fraught with challenges and obstacles, they knew that they had emerged stronger and more resilient, their bond forged in the fires of adversity.
And as they stood hand in hand, just cuddled beneath the covers of his bed, the girl knew that she had found her victory—the greatest victory of all: love. And Jude, with a smile that could light up the darkest of nights, knew that he had found something even more precious than fame or fortune—he had found his home in the arms of the woman he loved.
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the-minecraft-bat · 21 hours
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unhinged word vomit incoming read at your own risk
my "true" scarian interpretation at the moment is that they were never truly healthy but they weren't always toxic. grian is the issue haver and with or without meaning to he hurts scar a lot. they get together in 3rd life after dancing around each other for ages and there's problems in the relationship but they're generally going in a good direction. it's just that they're stuck in third life lol. the cactus ring fight traumatises them both, so after third life they break up without really talking about it and that's where everything gets worse. in last life they were not okay. double life grian is an abusive soulmate. cheating and putting down scar's skills and interests. i think that by secret life, they're doing better, but they still haven't had a real conversation. there's these lingering feelings of love and resentment. they were almost going to team up but i don't think they would've been ready. grian wanted to but he still acted like scar was somehow his last option, even though they work well together. grian constantly acts like scar is a liability and tries to protect him, even though scar is just as good a player as him. there's truth to it in 3rd life. i will give it to him that grian is the one who builds their base and the creeper farm and makes all their plans. scar even says it in his iconic line "for everything you did to keep me alive this long.." but the truth is more complicated. grian doesn't see the value in scar's social power. all he sees is scar dying and being on his red life and he instead of taking it seriously he's running around with a bee? why won't he listen to grian, grian knows how to keep them safe! ironically grian causes a lot of scar's deaths throughout the series, but it think the guilt about this only worsens this feeling of responsibility. this way of thinking is a pattern for grian. he refuses to change his perception of scar from here. which is why in double life he barely communicates with him and does not take anything scar does seriously. double life scarian is the direct result and worse version of third life scarian. this next thing is more fanon but i think they view what happened in third life differently. i imagine scar idealises it as this loving relationship against all odds whereas grian remembers it as a horror story where the man he loved kept dying. the truth is somewhere in the middle. they have these opposing views in different areas as well. scar loves being in love with grian. grian finds romance stressful and wishes he could get rid of these feelings (mentally he's drawing hearts around scar in pink glitter gellpen). i think it's canon that grian takes the life series and especially winning more seriously than scar. it's so interesting that scar won secret life though. grian's view of scar as this fool who needs his help to survive is proven untrue. if there's a next life series he can't constantly put scar down for being bad at surviving without clearly being wrong about it (though i imagine he could still find a way to talk himself into believing he's right). idk they're soooo interesting i hope they keep killing each other forever. i hope they talk it out and get married and divorced and married. above all i want scar to kill grian for once i think it would be cathartic
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ukrainianfellow · 3 days
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The story of a Ukrainian gay sniper couple
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When Russian aggression began, almost all Ukrainian citizens stood up for their country regardless of age, gender, political beliefs or sexual orientation. There are a lot of LGBT representatives in the AFU. The rainbow flag has spread much wider across Ukraine.
Homophobia was a traditional value among Ukrainians before Russian aggression. However, it is widespread among only a part of the population now. Moreover, it is associated with soviet totalitarianism, and the homophobia-tolerant stratum of the population is actively expanding.
It is noted that the number of LGBT servicemen and homosexual couples in the ranks of the AFU has increased significantly.
Pavel Legoyda, an anti-aircraft gunner in the 112th separate brigade of the AFU, is an open representative of the LGBT community. He does not hide his orientation and has a love partner. Unfortunately, he has not escaped abuse from his comrades. Not everyone in the Ukrainian army shows tolerance to people of non-traditional orientation. Pavel felt it by himself when he was almost stabbed to death by a soldier returning from the front line.
Nevertheless, it is worth noting that in 2023 the LGBT Military group claimed that around 50,000 LGBT people were fighting Russian occupants.
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We've checked some journalists, that are in Ukraine, and had a talk with a gay couple and find out what is it like to defend the Motherland and fight together with a loved one.
Interviewer: “Could you tell a little bit about yourself and how did you realize your orientation? “.
“Anderson“: "My call sign is “Anderson”, I am a former sniper of the 81st Separate Airmobile Brigade. Since the beginning of the Russian aggression, I decided to join the ranks of recruits to defend my homeland. At first, I served as a gunner in a motorized infantry platoon. I confess, that even before the service, I had a slight interest in guys. In the army, I made a final decision about my orientation, but I had to hide it from my comrades."
“Heretic”: “Yes, actually he hid it for about six months, maybe a little more. My call sign is "Heretic." I served as a sniper for more than four years. in AFU”
“Anderson”: “Well, I don't deny it – it was hard to hide my identity. It's a very sensitive issue because you have to worry about how your comrades will react on this."
Interviewer: “Yes, indeed, it's a very brave step. Many people still struggles about it. How did you meet each other?”
“Anderson”: “Well, I was quite good at marksmanship and combat actions. Even before the service, I attended individual courses of shooting, and when I had to use my gun in real battle, I immediately realized that not only could I shoot, but kill occupants. The commander noticed my talent and recommended me to snipers. From that on, I became Heretic’s sniper pair.”
“Heretic”: “At first, I thought he was a newbie who had recklessly joined the snipers. That’s why the relationship between us was quite dry and even cold. Of course, over time, the ice began to melt between us. The daily routine and the constant threat to our lives made me realize that I had misjudged him. I thought: “Damn, he's a good guy!.” Training together, escaping artillery fire, resting and living together in the trenches strengthened our bond. One day, I admitted that I was ready to trust my back to my comrade.”
Interviewer: “And how did you realize there something more than simple sympathy or trust?”
“Anderson”: “Well, I don't know exactly when, where or by what circumstances, but one day I suddenly realized that I felt something more than simple sympathy towards “Heretic”. Maybe it was when we wiped out another Russian orcs, maybe it was when we ate in the trenches. I worried that my feelings would be rejected by my comrade, so I didn’t tell him what I felt.”
“Heretic”: "Well, I was in a similar situation. I just realized that was terrified of losing him. And the constant threat to one of us just made feeling worse."
Interviewer: “And how did you decide to confess?”
“Anderson”: “While we were on another combat mission, and stuck under heavy artillery fire. It was so close that there was no chance of survival. Then we revealed our feelings towards each other.”
“Heretic”: “God bless that we had similar feelings!”
“Anderson”: “Unfortunately, we lost our legs and the ability to fight.”
“Heretic”: “At least we survived. We were found by comrades after the bombing was over.”
Interviewer: “Do your comrades know about your relations? What can you say about their reaction?”
“Anderson”: “Yes, they already know about it. After all we’ve been through we decided to reveal our relations to comrades. We talked with brothers after out hospitalization. We didn't care about anyone’s thoughts.”
“Heretic”: “We didn’t even think that our comrades will support our sights. It turned out that we are not the only ones who have such a relationship.”
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sansevierias · 1 month
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no but changing v's age to a tiny little baby* was silly and it was extra silly to give both female and male V the same birthday, because i see them as totally different characters with different personalities. and them having different birthdays was a nice addition that kinda highlighted it. like of course everyone can make their own V and roleplay as any kind of character they like, but i think the voice acting (english version) and romance options do paint a certain type of base for their personalities.
male v is a man in a man's world and he has to act like one in order to fit in and to survive. he has to have this cool tough guy act on, but sometimes it breaks, and you can find out what he really is feeling (for example talking to vik after the heist or the scene with skye/angel at the clouds). his romance options are both pretty big and wild personalities, and vincent in comparison to them is almost like more of a calming presence. but he does happily go along with both panam's and kerry's shenanigans.
female v is a woman living in a misogynistic world and that pisses her off. she is quick to anger and doesn't try to hide too much what she is feeling. if someone has an issue with how she expresses herself, then that's their fucking problem. to balance this, her romance options aren't as wild as panam and kerry, and they both offer a certain kind of domesticity to valerie. judy wants to move in with her immediately after their first time having sex (like a typical lesbian lol), and river is a family man and you can't make him leave his sister and her children. valerie's sex scenes are also less crazy and more "serene" and traditional than what vincent gets (a tank and a burning yacht).
some of these differences are also probably due to some underlying sexism in the writing (woman being more emotional, man getting wilder partners and so forth). but i still like that there are differencies. and when you add the three different life paths, you can get some nice variety to this pre-written character.
*i'm being overly dramatic because i myself am "old" and also a bit of a clown.
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