#|| his anger issues come from somewhere.

[revvnant]

insomnia is just wrecking my shit but i can must will think about michael's little cycles as a late teenager. specifically like. the ups and downs of dealing with abuse. i feel like a lot of resources focus on the abuser's cycle - honeymoon, tension, incident, reconciliation - but not very much on the victim's. in my experience, if it goes on long enough, there does come a point where you disconnect from that flow. especially if you're in the stage between realising the abuse is happening and getting out. the helplessness and frustration of being unable to leave once you know you're being mistreated creates its own cycle. knowing what's happening, you may try to use logic to start to control the situation, but because the abuse tends to be nonsensical, no amount of pointing out the behaviour or arguing your case or even highlighting that it's irrational is going to make it stop. eventually you exhaust yourself and enter phase two, playing dead. since it's so out of your control, you decide to just stop caring and let it happen. they're still doing the exact same song and dance and you are being dragged along for the ride. it doesn't matter if you argue, because it's going to keep happening, so why waste your time and energy that could be put towards recovering from each incident? but then they keep happening, and your energy comes back, and it turns into frustration again. because you don't deserve to be treated this way. sometimes this leads to a fourth phase, where the frustration triggers a blowup, and then guilt and self-blame over the ensuing issues; lots of 'maybe it was my fault because i let it slide for too long and got angry', 'oh am i just as bad as them', etc. this leads back into the attempted rationality phase, trying to 'fix it'.

so there are fluctuations in michael's behaviour. sometimes he's a doormat. sometimes he fights back. and it's tied to the way he constantly has to manage his own energy/resources, while throwing himself against the brick wall that is william's treatment of him. and some of those bricks are made up of the honeymoon phase! but when you're far enough along that you've caught on to the game, those moments can start to sour, too, because they never last. sadly from an outside perspective this does make mike look unstable which just adds to the problem. such is the hammer they're beating him with.

[makedamnsvre]

there are things abt me that i dont talk about not because im being secretive i either just forget to mention it or think no one wants to hear about it but i think it gives like important context to whats wrong with me 💖

[lemonlover1110]

𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 14] Feelings of Betrayal

← Previous Chapter - Story Masterlist

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

*It's a shorter chapter but for a reason🥹❤️ Baby is coming up so i made a little form for baby names since I don't have one picked out. If y'all want to submit any names that you really like

*also please send any asks to @tojilover1110 <3

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Toji’s tapping his foot, growing impatient as he waits for Shiu to show up. He called Shiu, and the man agreed to meet up to talk about everything that’s going on. Toji is convinced that you’re lying to him, not because he thinks Shiu is above that but because you’d say anything to get back at him. 

When Toji first confronted Shiu about the issue, Shiu sounded completely lost. He doesn’t know why he didn’t think of it immediately, you were clearly lying. But he doesn’t want to outright accuse you of lying without getting confirmation from Shiu first. 

There’s a knock on the front door, and Toji nearly runs to get it. He hasn’t been waiting for too long, but for him it feels like an eternity. His thoughts have just been consuming him… The thought of you and Shiu being together fills him with an unprecedented rage. 

“Hey…” Shiu awkwardly greets Toji the moment the door opens, and it answers all of Toji’s questions. Shiu did something with you. He sounds as guilty as charged. It’s not something that Toji usually picks up on, but there’s just something off that gives everything away. Toji stands in the middle of the doorway, making it impossible for Shiu to get through. “So… Are you going to let me in?”

“Did you sleep with her?” Toji won’t let Shiu inside so easily. He fears he’ll have a reaction that will lead to severe consequences, so he’d rather have Shiu outside, somewhere where he can easily slam the door shut.

“What are you talking about?” Shiu’s clearly guilty, even though he tries to play it off. It makes Toji want to strangle the man right there and then, but he has questions that only Shiu can answer.

“You know what I’m talking about.” Toji tries to keep himself calm because he knows he won’t solve anything if he just starts beating the shit out of Shiu. Shiu stays silent, biting his tongue. He came with the idea that he’d be honest with Toji, but he feels different standing right in front of him. 

“We didn’t– But we…” Shiu takes a deep breath, taking a step back to put more distance between him and Toji. “She gave me a handjob but that’s as far as we got.”

Toji’s vision slowly turns red, and he takes deep breaths to calm himself down. His hands go to his pockets as a precaution. Maybe a few months back he would’ve had Shiu pinned down and beaten some sense into him, but Toji remembers one thing over and over again: He’s going to be a father again soon. He’s not going to get into any trouble, even when the matter comes to you.

“Of course.” Toji scoffs. Toji has to look at the ground because the mere sight of Shiu is enough to get him to lose control. “You just couldn’t wait, you had to dig your claws in. Is waiting a year too hard? Or at the very least until my daughter is born.”

“The daughter you don’t want.” Shiu can’t help but point out, because he doubts that he really cares about that detail– Toji is just hurt and willing to use anything to paint Shiu as a bad guy.

“I want my daughter, don’t you fucking dare.” Toji is shaking from the anger that consumes him. He tries to take another deep breath to calm himself down. “Don’t you fucking dare going anywhere near her again, I’ll fucking kill you.”

“She’s allowed to do whatever she wants. You two aren’t together because you were a bad husband to her. You always were.” Shiu says, and Toji’s teeth dig into his bottom lip so harshly he could bleed. “She’s allowed to move on with whoever she wants.”

“Not you, dammit! You’re supposed to be my best friend!” Toji yells, slapping his hand on the door, which makes Shiu take a step back. Shiu puffs out a breath, thinking of what to say next. 

Shiu is one of Toji’s closest friends. He does owe Toji loyalty– But really, who else is there to blame other than Toji? Shiu won’t allow himself to suffer simply because Toji got to you first. Maybe if you had done something to Toji, he wouldn’t allow himself to get close but you didn’t.

“I’m sorry, Toji.” Shiu sighs. “I’m not going to pass up on the opportunity of a great woman just for you. Just because you couldn’t appreciate her doesn’t mean I shouldn’t get a chance.”

“Curse you, Kong. I’ll kill you.” It could be an empty threat, but Shiu will not take his chances with Toji. Not when Toji goes back into his apartment, leaving the door wide open. Shiu isn’t a coward, but he values his life enough to know when to walk away.

When Toji walks back, Shiu is gone, which ends up being the best decision for the both of them.

Toji tosses and turns in his bed at night, too much on his mind which makes it impossible to sleep. This doesn’t happen to Toji, he barely looks at his pillow and he’s asleep. But not tonight. Tonight he keeps thinking about you and Shiu, wondering how this is possible.

You’re allowed to move on (even though he doesn’t want you to) but not with Shiu. And Shiu shouldn’t be doing this in the first place. He doesn’t know what hurts worse, the betrayal from Shiu or the fact that you chose his best friend of all people. He guesses Shiu’s betrayal stings the most since he did nothing to the man to make this happen. 

This is what Toji practically asked for, so he can’t complain. Maybe he should’ve been better, and wiser after everything; perhaps he would’ve had a better fate. 

Toji can’t do much. You’ve made your decision and he can’t force you to change your mind, as much as he wants you to. It fucking hurts that it’s Shiu, but at least Shiu will make a great step-dad. 

Yeah… His priorities have changed. He still longs for you to be by his side on the cold bed, but it isn’t his main focus. The daughter he didn’t want is what he cares about the most now.

Maybe a low blow is all he needed for him to reconsider what he should prioritize. 

Toji sighs, sitting up in bed before turning on his lamp. He won’t be able to sleep no matter how much he tries, he might as well continue working on the baby blanket. Her arrival is just in a few months. 

But he’s gone through this before, she’ll be here in no time.

[ssahotchnerr]

Jack still sort of maintaining a relationship with Roy the first few years after Haley dies (Aaron thought it was important to maintain those connections for Jack even tho it hurt Aaron to do 😭 it was easy with Jess who he loves but SUCKED with Roy) but he gets extremely exclusionary once Ellie is born. Him being like “I will spend time with MY grandson who belonged to MY daughter but I will not be wasting my time, energy, and money on a child you’ve had with another woman. A child who – might I point out – would not have been born if you stayed married to my daughter and didn’t get her killed in the first place.”

Aaron being pissed on Ellie’s behalf (and his feelings are hurt tbh) and you being pissed on both of their behalfs. But, unexpectedly, Hc that Jack overheard this conversation and basically says to Aaron the next time Roy wants to take him somewhere (Aaron didn’t want to make HIM feel bad on top of everything else by banning him from seeing his grandfather, so he was gonna let him go), “I don’t want to spend time with grandpa Roy if he’s gonna be mean to Ellie. Thank you, but I’ll stay here.” SUCH A GOOD BIG BROTHERRRRR you and Aaron are so proud 🥺❤️

OHHH MY GOD??

roy just completely refuses to acknowledge that ellie exists 😭

it happened right from the start: when aaron shared the two of you were expecting, roy brushed it off, muttering something incoherently in response. after she's born, aaron invites him over for family dinners, he refuses to come. he's invited to ellie's first, second, third birthday party, doesn't come. every time he comes over, he acts like he's never seen her before. disregarding her completely.

it becomes very clear very fast that he wants to spend time with jack and jack only. as much as aaron hates to admit it, in a way, he understands. roy's bitter about what happened to haley, so this was somewhat expected. it's a different situation that's hard to navigate - ellie isn't related to him, so if roy doesn't want to bring her along to places, whatever, aaron's not going to force roy to do anything. the issue is what an issue it is. how ellie is being treated.

it's more of a problem when ellie is a bit older, and wants to tag along with jack wherever he goes. she just wants to be included 🥺 sweet ellie simply says hi when roy comes over to pick up jack, he ignores her. the next time, she draws him a picture, and he doesn't accept it.

aaron gently confronts him, and that's when roy brings up haley and how this child is a disgrace to her. imagine he full-on admits he wishes she never existed?? 😭 ellie's a product of what happened to haley, he'll never forgive aaron for getting her killed, so he'll never accept this child's existence. she shouldn't exist.

that angers aaron and he starts going off - ellie is a part of this family, whether you like it or not. and fine, you don't have to love her (saying that SHATTERS aaron's heart) but do not treat her like she's nothing. aaron won't let that stand.

it starts a huge argument 🥺 roy refuses speak to aaron, except when it comes to arranging his time with jack, and the conversation is very short at that. he doesn't speak much to you either (never has). again in his eyes - you're haley's replacement. jack's new "mom"

and it's especially sad because ellie knows about haley too :( - not the story, but the simple, good things: jack has another mommy, she's not here with us anymore but you can talk to her with a candle. haley has never been a avoided topic in the house, she's encouraged. and so ellie loves haley in her own way :( so to call her a disgrace in haley's name?? when she's also keeping haley's memory alive? :((((

you feel awful. you know how hurt aaron is but he doesn't allow himself to show it. he hates talking about it, and he's always in a mood whenever roy's with jack. you feel awful for your daughter who doesn't know what's going on. you feel awful for jack who's taking an unnecessary weight on his shoulders in terms of this too.

ellie's confused and upset, this is the first person who's ever shown her unkindness. aaron gently tries to explain, but also, how do you explain this to a toddler? so he simply apologizes and scoops her up into his arms and holds her close :( he feels awful, and as if he's failing her in someway. this is "his fault", isn't it? 😭

so if roy's taking jack out, aaron or you, or both combined, take ellie out for the day to do something fun. or try to keep jack heading out on the down-low. it sucks, you still both encourage jack to spend time with his grandfather - maintaining that important relationship - even though it's exceedingly complicated behind the scenes.

and jack, being the sweet sensitive kid he is, picks up on the tension immediately. and he's torn 🥺 he wants to appease his grandfather, knows what he's doing isn't right, but also doesn't want to betray his little sister, letting behavior like this continue. he feels guilty :( he takes the initiative and brings it up to roy himself, asking if ellie can come with them someday, like to the zoo or to a movie. but roy's pretty level-headed and his mind is made up - absolutely no ellie.

so jack gets really upset :( he gets home one day and cries about it :((( you're trying to console him, as is aaron (who's close to tears himself), and ellie wanders over :( she gets sad whenever jack is sad :( and while she has no idea what's going on exactly, she just buries herself right up into jack's side as he's crying. to comfort him too 🥺🫶🏻

overall it's a reallyyyy messy situation, one that you can only hope resolves with time :(

[alyrasturnz]

I need a angsty fan fic of matt with his gf that are in an argument and he raises his hand to maybe move hair out of his face but she fliches and he imedeately becomes worried that she though he would hit her but she just had trauma from her childhood and when she tries to explain she just breaks down or has a panick attack(maybe even flashback) and then a fluffy ending.

SHADOWS OF THE PAST

❐ summary » in the midst of a heated argument, a seemingly insignificant gesture from matt triggers a dramatic and heart-wrenching resurgence of y/n’s deeply buried childhood trauma, unraveling layers of pain and vulnerability that had long been hidden beneath her stoic exterior.

❐ pairings » bf!matt x reader

❐ warnings » arguing, abuse, daddy issues

❐ a/n && w/c » this is not for the weak. (weak = people with daddy issues) •  3.86k

in the dimly lit living room, shadows weave intricate patterns on the walls, casting an almost ethereal glow. you and matt stand facing each other, suspended in a moment thick with unspoken words and a tapestry of lingering emotions. the air itself seems to pulse with the weight of past memories and the silent exchange of unresolved feelings, creating an atmosphere that is both tense and poignant.

the flickering light from a lone candle dances across your faces, illuminating the raw vulnerability etched in your expressions. every breath, every slight movement, seems to carry the echoes of a thousand unsaid things, each one more profound than the last.

the room, once a sanctuary of shared laughter and dreams, now feels like a stage set for a poignant confrontation, where the ghosts of your past linger, watching and waiting for the resolution that may never come.

your voice quivers with a blend of frustration and sorrow as you speak, “you never listen to me, matt! it’s like you’re always somewhere else, lost in your own world.” your hands clench and unclench at your sides, a physical manifestation of the emotional storm brewing within you. your eyes search his face desperately, seeking a glimmer of understanding, but finding only the familiar, distant gaze.

matt’s eyes flash with frustration, his brows knitting together as he retorts, “that’s not fair, y/n! i’m trying my best, but you act like i’m not even here.” his hands gesture wildly, as if trying to grasp the elusive understanding that seems to slip through his fingers. his voice, tinged with a mix of anger and desperation, echoes in the room, amplifying the emotional chasm growing between you.

you cross your arms, a mix of hurt and anger flickering in your eyes. “trying your best? you barely even talk to me anymore. it’s like we’re strangers living under the same roof.” your voice trembles with the weight of unspoken pain, each word a sharp reminder of the emotional distance that has grown between you.

your shoulders tense, as if bracing against an invisible storm, while your gaze pierces through the thick fog of misunderstanding and neglect. the room around you seems to shrink, the walls closing in with the oppressive silence that follows your words, amplifying the chasm that has formed between your hearts.

matt takes a deep breath, his voice softer but filled with a quiet intensity. "do you think it's easy for me? i've been dealing with so much, and sometimes... sometimes i just need space." his words, though gentle, carry the weight of countless sleepless nights and unspoken fears.

his eyes, clouded with a mix of vulnerability and frustration, search for a glimmer of understanding. the room seems to hold its breath, the silence between you thickening as his confession hangs in the air, a fragile thread connecting the raw edges of your shared pain.

the room falls silent, the weight of your words hanging heavily between you. matt steps closer, his expression softening. "i don't want to lose you, y/n. but we need to find a way to understand each other, to bridge this gap." his voice trembles slightly, a testament to the depth of his emotions.

the silence that envelops you both is thick, almost tangible, as if the very air is holding its breath. his eyes, filled with a mix of desperation and hope, search yours for a sign of reconciliation. the room, once a mere backdrop to your lives, now feels like a sacred space where every word, every gesture, carries the potential to heal or deepen the rift between you.

you look down, your voice barely above a whisper. "i just want to feel like i matter to you, like we're in this together." your words, fragile and laced with longing, hang in the air like a delicate thread, vulnerable to the slightest breeze. your gaze, fixed on the floor, reflects the weight of unspoken fears and desires.

the room around you seems to fade, leaving just the two of you suspended in a moment of raw honesty. each syllable you utter is a plea, a quiet cry for connection, echoing through the silence that has settled between your hearts.

matt's frustration boils over, his voice rising. "it's not always about you, y/n! i have my own battles, my own demons. why can't you see that?" his words erupt like a storm, each one charged with the pent-up anguish of his inner struggles.

his eyes flash with a mix of anger and desperation, as if pleading for recognition of the silent wars he fights daily. the intensity of his outburst reverberates through the room, shaking the fragile equilibrium of your relationship. his voice, though loud, carries an undertone of vulnerability, revealing the deep scars etched into his soul by unseen adversaries.

your face hardens, hurt turning into anger. "i do see that, matt. but you shut me out. how am i supposed to help you if you won't let me in?" your voice, though laced with frustration, trembles with the weight of unspoken pain. each word is a carefully controlled explosion, a testament to the emotional battleground within you.

your eyes, once filled with empathy, now blaze with a mixture of sorrow and defiance, reflecting the depth of your yearning to be a part of his world. the air between you crackles with unresolved tension, each breath a struggle to bridge the chasm that his silence has carved into your shared existence.

matt lets out a heavy sigh, "you're so... insufferable!" he yells in anger, causing you to slightly flinch. his voice, raw and edged with exasperation, slices through the air like a blade. the intensity of his outburst reverberates within the confines of the room, each syllable a testament to the turbulent storm brewing within him.

your slight flinch, almost imperceptible, betrays the inner turmoil his words have ignited. the space between you seems to shrink and expand simultaneously, charged with the electric tension of unresolved emotions and unspoken grievances.

but then he angrily brings his hand up to his hair, running his fingers through it with full force. his movements are sharp and deliberate, each strand of hair caught in the fervent grip of his frustration.

the act, though seemingly mundane, is laden with the weight of his inner turmoil, a physical manifestation of the chaos that rages within him. the tension in his muscles is palpable, the rigidity of his posture a stark contrast to the vulnerability that lies beneath his anger. the room seems to hold its breath, the atmosphere thick with the unspoken complexities of his emotions.

your mind morphs his face into your dad's face. every shape and every little contour morphing into his features. his eyes, once familiar, now carry the weight of past memories, each line and shadow a haunting echo of your father's visage.

the transformation is both surreal and unsettling, as if the ghosts of your past have come to life in the present moment. the contours of his face blur and shift, melding into the well-worn patterns of your father's expressions, each one a reminder of old wounds and unresolved emotions.

the room around you fades, leaving only the stark reality of this uncanny resemblance, a poignant reminder of the intricate tapestry of your emotional landscape.

the crease of his eyebrows, the wrinkles on his forehead, and the fury in his eyes, everything. each detail, from the furrowed brows to the deep lines etched into his skin, speaks volumes of the anger that simmers beneath the surface.

the intensity in his eyes burns with a ferocity that seems almost palpable, a tempest of emotions barely contained within their depths. the wrinkles on his forehead, like the rings of an ancient tree, tell stories of past struggles and unresolved conflicts, each one adding to the complexity of his expression. the entirety of his visage becomes a canvas painted with the raw, unfiltered fury that now defines this moment.

and most importantly, the way he raised his hand. the gesture, though seemingly simple, is laden with an almost unbearable weight. it is a movement filled with unspoken words and suppressed emotions, a silent testament to the turmoil that rages within him. the lift of his hand, deliberate and fraught with tension, carries the echoes of past grievances and unhealed wounds.

it is as if time slows, allowing the gravity of the moment to fully sink in, each second stretching into an eternity. the significance of this action is not lost on you, as it encapsulates the depth of his inner conflict and the intensity of his unvoiced anguish.

you immediately flinch, bringing your arms up to your head to shield you from what you thought he was about to do. the reaction is instinctive, a primal response born from past experiences and deep-seated fears.

your body moves on its own accord, muscles tensing and heart pounding as you brace for an impact that never comes. the air around you thickens, charged with the electricity of your sudden terror.

each second stretches into an agonizing eternity, your mind racing through memories of similar moments, each one leaving an indelible mark on your psyche. the vulnerability of your posture, arms raised in a futile attempt at protection, speaks volumes of the trauma that lingers, shaping your every reflex and reaction.

your body knew that it was just matt, but your mind played tricks on you. the familiarity of his presence should have been a comfort, yet your mind conjured specters from the past, blurring the lines between reality and memory.

the rational part of you recognized matt's touch, his voice, the essence of his being, yet the shadows of your past wove an intricate tapestry of fear and confusion. it was as if your mind, a master of deception, replayed old scenes with cruel precision, morphing matt's every gesture into a haunting echo of what once was. the dichotomy between your physical awareness and the mental labyrinth you navigated created a dissonance that left you teetering on the edge of sanity.

"please don't," you whispered, tears starting to stream down your face as your heart pounded in your chest. your voice, barely more than a breath, trembled with the weight of unshed sorrow and unspoken fears.

each tear that traced a path down your cheeks seemed to carry a fragment of your shattered soul, glistening in the dim light like shards of broken glass. the plea hung in the air, fragile and desperate, a testament to the storm raging within you.

your heart, a wild drumbeat in your chest, echoed the tumultuous emotions that threatened to overwhelm you, each thud a reminder of the vulnerability and pain that had become your constant companions.

"what? oh my god, no—" matt said softly, though you couldn't hear it with your ringing ears. "no, no, no, baby, no." his voice, laden with a mixture of shock and desperation, barely pierced through the cacophony that filled your mind. the words, though gentle, carried the weight of his anguish, each syllable a plea for understanding and reassurance.

the softness of his tone, juxtaposed with the intensity of the moment, created a poignant contrast, underscoring the depth of his concern and the helplessness he felt in that instant. his repeated denials, like a mantra, sought to bridge the chasm of fear and pain that had suddenly yawned between you, a futile attempt to anchor you both in a reality that seemed to be slipping away.

his heart pounded against his chest, nibbling on his bottom lip as he pulled you closer, your trembling body against his. the rhythm of his heart, an insistent drumbeat, echoed within the confines of his chest, each pulse a testament to the turmoil within.

his teeth grazed his bottom lip, a subconscious attempt to quell the rising tide of emotion. as he drew you closer, your trembling form pressed against him, he sought to forge a connection amidst the swirling tempest.

the warmth of your quivering body, fragile and delicate, became his anchor, a fleeting sanctuary in the midst of chaos, offering a momentary respite from the storm that raged within and around you both.

"no—don't," you whisper, your voice trembling as matt kissed the top of your head, resting his chin atop it. your voice, barely more than a fragile breath, quivered with the weight of unshed tears.

matt's lips brushed the crown of your head, a tender gesture laden with unspoken emotions. as his chin settled gently atop your head, it was as if he sought to shield you from the encroaching darkness, to offer solace in the simplest of touches. the trembling in your voice mirrored the tremors in your heart, each word a plea, a desperate attempt to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm you both.

"i’m not. i won’t. i would never hit you," he whispered assuringly. though it was useless since you couldn’t hear anything with your labored breaths and ringing ears. his voice, a soft murmur of reassurance, carried a profound sincerity, each word a vow etched in the air.

despite his earnest whispers, they were swallowed by the cacophony of your labored breaths and the relentless ringing in your ears. his assurances, though spoken with the gentleness of a summer breeze, seemed to dissipate into the void, unable to pierce through the storm of your inner turmoil.

the disconnect between his soothing promises and your inability to perceive them underscored the chasm that had opened between your shared reality and the isolating grip of your distress.

your breaths, once steady, now came in rapid, uneven gasps, each inhale and exhale a testament to the mounting panic within you. your shoulders heaved with the force of your distress, rising and falling in a dramatic rhythm that mirrored the tempest in your heart.

tears, unrelenting and bitter, carved glistening paths down your cheeks, each droplet a silent witness to the depth of your sorrow. the physical manifestations of your anguish painted a poignant picture of a soul in turmoil, each breath and tear a cry for solace amidst the chaos.

matt, ever perceptive, noticed the shift in your demeanor. with a gentle yet firm resolve, he withdrew from the embrace, his hands finding their place on your shoulders. his eyes, deep pools of concern and determination, locked onto yours, seeking to bridge the chasm of despair that threatened to engulf you. the intensity of his gaze, laden with unspoken promises and a fervent desire to understand, became a lifeline in the swirling maelstrom of your emotions.

as your gaze met his, the storm within your eyes began to calm, the hardness melting away like frost under the morning sun. the realization dawned upon you, a gentle epiphany that the figure before you was not your father, but matt, steadfast and compassionate.

your eyes softened, the tension in your face easing as the shadows of past fears receded. in that moment of clarity, the lines between past and present blurred, and the warmth of matt's presence began to soothe the echoes of old wounds.

"hey, hey, it’s okay. i’m here. i would never hurt you," he whispered, each word a delicate thread woven with care. his tone, imbued with a profound gentleness, was a balm to your frayed nerves, a soft assurance that sought to anchor you amidst the tempest. the sincerity in his voice, tender and unwavering, was a promise, a vow that resonated deeply, striving to reach the core of your being and dispel the shadows of doubt and fear.

your lips quivered, a silent testament to the turmoil within, as your mind swam in a haze of confusion and distress. each breath you took became a laborious endeavor, the weight of your emotions pressing down upon your chest.

the clarity of thought that once guided you now seemed distant, replaced by a fog that clouded your senses and left you adrift in a sea of uncertainty. the physical manifestations of your inner chaos painted a poignant picture of a soul grappling with the depths of its own despair.

»--•--«

“you’re so useless!” your dad bellows, his voice a thunderous roar that reverberates through the room. with a furious swipe, he sends a flower pot crashing to the floor, shards scattering like the remnants of shattered dreams.

his eyes blaze with an intensity that speaks of deep-seated rage, each flicker of anger a dagger aimed at your already fragile heart. the raw, unfiltered fury in his gaze is a storm unto itself, leaving you to weather the tempest of his wrath.

ou flinch, your body instinctively recoiling as you take tentative steps backward, each movement a desperate bid for escape. the air grows thick with tension, your retreat a silent plea for safety.

yet, your dad's keen eyes catch the subtle shift, his gaze locking onto you with an intensity that halts your retreat. the awareness of his scrutiny freezes you in place, the hope of slipping away unnoticed dissolving under the weight of his penetrating stare.

with each furious stomp, he closes the distance between you, his presence a looming shadow of anger. his hand darts out, seizing the back of your shirt with a vice-like grip. in a swift, forceful motion, he lifts you off the ground, your feet dangling helplessly in the air. the sensation of being suspended, caught in his unyielding grasp, sends a jolt of fear through your body, amplifying the already overwhelming sense of vulnerability.

“you’re so incompetent! you’re a disgrace to this family!” he bellows, his voice a tempest of fury that crashes over you. with a violent shove, he hurls you to the ground, your small frame colliding harshly with the cold, unforgiving marble floor.

the impact reverberates through your body, pain mingling with the flood of emotions that surge within you. tears stream down your face, each drop a testament to the deep-seated sorrow and helplessness that grips your heart.

“oh shut it, you’ll get over it!” he scoffs, his voice dripping with disdain. his dismissive words cut through the air like a blade, but they do nothing to stem the tide of your tears. you continue to cry, each sob a raw, unfiltered expression of the pain that his callousness only deepens. the tears flow freely, a silent rebellion against the indifference etched in his voice.

“did i say that you could cry more?” he demands, his voice a sharp edge that slices through the silence. he turns to you, his gaze piercing as you slowly shake your head, the movement almost imperceptible. “exactly! so stop crying, brat,” he snaps, his words laced with an unyielding authority that leaves no room for defiance.

you sniff, the sound barely audible as you quickly scramble to your feet. with a surge of adrenaline, you start running, each step fueled by a desperate need to escape. your feet falter occasionally, causing you to stumble, but you push onward, driven by the urgency of the moment.

“hey! where are you going!?” he yells, his voice echoing with a mix of anger and confusion. he begins to walk after you, his footsteps heavy and deliberate, each one a reminder of the distance you’re trying to put between yourself and the source of your pain.

you try to open the front door, but it's locked, the handle refusing to give. panic surges within you, and your eyes widen as you slowly turn to face your father. his unforgiving gaze meets yours, a silent testament to the authority and control he wields.

“oh, so you want to escape now?” he asks, his voice dripping with a mix of incredulity and mockery. a soft, derisive scoff escapes his lips, echoing in the tense silence between you. his eyes narrow, filled with a cold, unyielding intensity, as he slowly draws his fist back. the motion is deliberate, almost methodical, as if he’s savoring the moment, before he aims it directly towards your face, the threat hanging heavily in the air.

»--•--«

the sudden jolt of his words snapped you back to reality, pulling you from the depths of your swirling thoughts. matt’s eyes, unwavering and intense, continued to bore into yours, as if searching for something hidden deep within your soul.

“hey, it’s okay. I’m here with you. let’s take some slow, deep breaths together. breathe in... and out. focus on my voice and just keep breathing. you’re safe right now,” he whispers, his voice a soothing balm against the chaos in your mind. you nod softly, trying to follow his instructions and take slow, deep breaths, but the anxiety grips you tightly, making it difficult to find the calm he’s trying to guide you towards.

matt nods thoughtfully, his gaze shifting as he surveys the surroundings. “alright, let’s try something together,” he says, his voice carrying a quiet determination.

“first, look around and tell me three things you can see,” he says, his voice steady and grounding, as he encourages you to anchor yourself in the present.

“y-you, the couch, a-and the tv,” you stammer, each word a struggle, your voice a mere whisper, trembling with the weight of your emotions. the effort to speak seems monumental, as if the simple act of naming these objects is a lifeline to the present moment amidst the chaos of your mind.

“now, listen carefully and tell me three sounds you can hear,” matt said, his voice calm and steady, guiding you to focus on the auditory tapestry of your surroundings.

“i hear- you, th-the clock, and the rain outside,” your voice barely audible, you whisper, each word a delicate thread of sound in the stillness.

you feel the panic slowly ebbing away, like the receding tide, leaving a sense of calm gradually washing over your body.

“you’re doing amazing baby. now, move three parts of your body, like wiggling your fingers or toes. you're doing great, just keep focusing on these steps." matt murmurs softly, his voice a gentle caress against the storm of emotions swirling within you.

you nod, eyelids fluttering shut as your fingers dance with a nervous energy, guiding your trembling hand to your locks, gently tucking them behind your ear in a gesture of fragile composure. you incline your head, eyelids descending as your digits quiver with an anxious fervor, maneuvering your tremulous hand to your tresses, meticulously securing them behind your ear in a gesture of delicate poise.

you exhale a gentle sigh, the tempest within you gradually subsiding as your eyelids flutter open, revealing eyes tinged with a bloodshot hue, remnants of your emotional tempest.

“oh baby,” he murmured soothingly, extending his arms in a welcoming embrace. “c’mere, sweet gir.l”

you offered a gentle smile, advancing towards him with measured steps, encircling him with your arms and surrendering to the warmth of his embrace.

you allowed the silence to envelop you, feeling the tender press of his lips upon your head, as he gently rested his chin atop, creating a sanctuary of tranquility.

“m’sorry about earlier,” he whispers, his voice a soft murmur. “i’ll be around more, i promise, baby.”

“thank you,” you mumble, your words muffled against the warmth of his chest.

[phantoms-world-and-more]

Danny hits batman with the anti-creep stick

So dannys 19 and is taking astro engineering at gothem university

To save money he lives in the cheepest apartment he can find, its not like it going to kill him again

Danny was ok with the attempted break ins, he was ok with the broken AC, he was ok with the spam callers

What he wasent ok with is the fucking parcor wannabes who decided his roof is the best spot to be in

He gave up his sleep during his teen years he was NOT willing to do the same in his twentys

So after a month of the same assholes on his roof he decided to do something

.

.

.

He wasent expecting a man in a purple suit that looks like Ronald McDonalds evil twin

Or a furrie with anger issues to be with him

Danny looked at them for a good minute before deciding he's seen weirder stuff in his fridge

He charged the fenton-anti-creep-stick and smacked the clown on the head

He dropped like a brick, the flowes in his hands dropping and giving a puff of some weird gass

He turned to the furrie and said

You two can flirt somewhere else just not here

He was polite, or tried to be at 2:37 in the morning, but the furrie said that he cant just intervein in a fight "itS DaNGErouS"

Danny looked him in the eyes said too bad furrie and bopped him with the anti-creep-stick

Danny was about to call the cops to come collect these two weirdos when he saw a tracking system on the furries arm, it showed that someone was going to come this way

.

.

.

Jason saw alot of things in his life

He came back from the dead, faught crime in pixie boots,became a crime boss, tried to kill a clown and his brother on multiple occasions

But even he was at a loss

The joker was knocked out and on the ground

But so was batman

Just as he was about to call for backup when adoptee-to-be stepped out of the shadown hilding a stick taller than him and giving him the most dead stare

Collect the furrie and Ronald McDonald and keep them off the roof they can flirt somewhere else, if they ruin my sleep ONE more time they'll have a lot more to worrie about than the anti-creep-stick

[11rosebunny]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 𝐓𝐎𝐗𝐈𝐂 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐒 (𝐁𝐎𝐅𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍 + 𝐉𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄)

content: f!reader, possessiveness, a hint of gaslighting and manipulation

Haruka Sakura

He tends to push everyone else including you and won't properly communicate his feelings if he feels it's too complicated for others to understand.

It gets extremely frustrating if you're trying to tell him what's wrong, he'll lie and say nothing, shift the topic somewhere else, and worst part is if you keep on trying to ask, he'll somehow make it your fault for worrying even though he's on the brink of falling a part. He still struggles with opening up to others but he can't continue to push away others that deeply care for him.

Hajime Umemiya

Sometimes, he forgets he can not treat everyone the same way, this goes for how he treats women especially. At first he didn't understand how friendly he acted towards girls while dating you was a bad thing, it took him a few days to understand your perspective and put himself in your shoes.

Eventually, he ended up getting a taste of his own medicine when he saw you being friendly towards Hiragi, since that moment, he understood boundaries with other people.

Toma Hiragi

His caring gratitude becomes a little too much to the point where you don't have to lift a finger.

If you simply ask him anything, a drink, to go to a place, to be picked up, or if he just decides to clean up after you, make sure you're okay, and practically do everything for you, he's on it right away.

The only downside is he expects you to stay obedient. If you don't want to do something with him (aside from sexual cases) he starts to tell you about all the different things he's done for you. It's a very well trick that he's not even aware of to make you comply to whatever he says. You can't even argue with him either because he is right about doing so much for you without you having to ask half of the time.

Taiga Tsugeura

He tries to be friends with everyone. At first it isn't a bad thing to keep up a good reputation but it's come to a point where if a person did something weird and rude in the past, he will continue to try to get on their good side.

You had to talk him out of it that a friend to everyone is a friend to nobody.

He still struggles to get rid of that habit of his and is currently doing a good job at it. So good for carrot head!

Mitsuki Kiryu

Everyone knows he's popular with the ladies, and most would think that would be his toxic trait, but in reality, it's his lack of communication. It's not like Sakura, where he'll push everyone away but Kiryu tends to have a hard time keeping up in the social life.

On some days, he's the driest person you'll ever meet but inside he doesn't see anything wrong with it because no matter what he still loves you.

He got confused when you accused him of not loving you, he was baffled because he didn't understand because he was sure as hell he did in fact love you. He's slowly starting to improve, and tried to text and talk more to make you feel happy.

Hayato Suo

He doesn't understand why you'd want to hang out with anyone other than him, this was a back then problem so thankfully, he grew out of it.

Before, since you two grew up together from a very young age, when you started to talk to other people he started to grow bitter, and didn't understand why you'd speak to them and not him. It was a small anger management but he soon grew out of it when he got older thankfully.

Jo Togame

His brave behaviour sometimes turn into the most possessive person on earth. He won't like it if you even go somewhere by yourself, he'll try to keep you in his sight at all times and would even forbid you to do some things, regardless if you really wanted to do it, he does not care and will shut it down with an argument if he has to.

Because of that, his jealousy issues are also quite high, to the point where if he has to make you cry, then so be it.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

I am yours and never ours

Caracalla x wife!reader

warning : Spoilers for Gladiator ii, hurt/comfort, kissing, implied mother issues, mention of violence, cuddling, no use of y/n

Summary : It was a mistake to kill the hero, to not give him the mercy he should have received. The riots a sign of overthrow and fall and entrenched in the palace the two brothers and Caracalla's wife, nerves are thin and after a forgetting of temper it seems only love can calm a frightened Caracalla to bring order to the situation.

info : omg the scene was so sad and tense, the bond between the two, i'm fully in my gladiator era. Have fun reading :)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had only taken a fraction of a moment, the sun had been right over the Colosseum, giving everyone a chance to get their bearings. Shouts of cheers, boos and cries mingled with the loud voice of Rome.

The emperors sitting impatiently on their chairs, the younger one screaming for death at last, the older one seeming to grow more agitated with every breath, and in the centre the weeping princess as the arrows pierced her beloved.

Justus Acacius was dead, unjustly killed despite the surrender of both fighters, a death that had the emperors rejoicing, but a death that only a few hours later at nightfall had the people roaring.

What at first was still disbelief and shock had become a popular uprising, at the latest with the tumult, the flames raging in the streets and the numerous courageous citizens.

The two brothers also became aware of the uprising and the royal family withdrew in disbelief and indignation to avoid being drawn into it.

Even the Sun of Rome, Caracalla's wife, could not reassure the people who loved her; they seemed to hate her as much as her husband and brother-in-law.

Looking out from behind the solid walls of the palace, she saw the metre-high flames, saw the angry crowd and the few troops of the emperors who could hardly do anything.

Gods have mercy on us she thought and took another sip from her glass as she heard more screams of death and moved away from the window, going back to her family but seeing only the same tension in Geta.

Rarely had she seen him like this if he didn't burst under the pressure at any moment so she was sure he would storm out himself, ,,There may be many but they don't have the weapons and courage of our troops" she said calmly and tried to pour Geta another glass but he turned away.

His gaze had barely noticed her so absorbed he seemed to be thinking about how he could save them all, ,,Ungrateful" he hissed as he looked out and saw nothing but treachery.

The silence in the palace was interrupted only by the footsteps of Macrinus, who withdrew in her presence, she did not trust him and he did not trust her, but her concern lay more with her beloved Caracalla.

She glanced at her husband, who was sitting on a lectus and feeding Dundus his little monkey to calm himself down somehow. However, he looked just as miserable as his brother, they both looked tired, exhausted and completely overwhelmed by everything.

She gave him a smile, trying to keep him amused, ,,You'll all see blood," Caracalla said, returning the smile - it was to be expected that he wanted a whole bloodlust. A betrayal hurts deeply.

Even if it hurt inside her, helplessness and fear had a grip on her too…only Dundus the monkey seemed happy as he let out another little screech when he got a grape.

A mistake.

All of a sudden all she could see was Geta hurrying around, ,,Get that annoying monkey out of here!" shouting at his brother and slapping the wine in his brother's face.

Startled, she gasped, calling out Geta's name in warning, his eyes filled with anger and remorse, she knew it was the situation, knew the tension but nothing would help.

As she hurried over to Caracalla and gently placed her hand on his shoulder, he looked more like a weeping dog than an emperor, ,,Come my king, we should feed Dundus somewhere else" she said, helping him up slightly and telling him to go ahead into the throne room.

She walked past Geta who just looked down shaking his head and cursing himself, he had taken it too far. ,,I'll be right back why don't you get us some wine Macrinus" she said and didn't bother because his fake smile told her all she needed to know as he disappeared and she sighed and hurried on her way.

Her footsteps echoed in the empty corridors and the throne room, Dundus shrieked and she heard the sniffle, ,,Love? My King Caracalla, where are you?" she asked quietly, swallowing down the lump rising in her throat as she thought back to the episodes he had already had.

She and Geta loved him but this madness would be the downfall of them all. She continued to walk around the room, first looking behind the throne where he sometimes hid, but he wasn't sitting there.

,,Caracalla? It's your sun, do you understand?" she asked and finally saw the blond head of hair peeking out from behind one of the curtains behind which he had curled up.

She heard his crying, the sniffling as he peeked out from behind it and she got down on her knees, ,,It's-It's all right, come here to me, you know who I am, don't you?" she continued to ask calmly, hiding the slight trembling in her hands under the fabric of her clothes as she saw the man she loved so fragile.

Slowly he emerged from his ‘hiding place’ and nodded cautiously as he crawled towards her, ,,You…you're my wife," he sniffled his words barely intelligible as Dundus continued to tote on his shoulders and the chain rattled.

Nodding hastily, she smiled slightly relieved that he at least recognised her, sitting in front of her probably not quite knowing what he wanted or needed, ,,You are mine" he seemed to understand instead as he placed his hand on hers and she didn't pull it away.

Yours, mine, ours words she had heard so often, she was his wife but our joy.

It's like a coin with two sides only one can come up and the other stays in the shadow, only the balance on the edge can go but with enormous precision or trust and love…something that was all the more difficult at such a time between the two brothers.

She nodded again and pulled him close, lying in her lap like a boy with his mother, his, ,,I'm yours," she assured him, carefully using the sleeve of her dress to wipe his face.

Mostly delusional, she quickly realised that he was like a small child who simply needed her mother, a woman who had died at an early age and she filled that role.

An initial squirming soon turned into an amused laugh as she wiped the wine from his face and at least he wasn't crying, ,,Tickled" he muttered and she couldn't help but smile bitterly, the delusion was a horror and a blessing in one.

Another coin.

Dundus played with the blond curls as Caracalla's fingers, which had been playing with each other before, slid to hers, ,,He's been hurting me since we were sin the womb, you're not his or ours…you're mine…like Rome should be mine," he suddenly said, gripping her tighter.

Blue eyes showed the fire of madness and she stroked his cheek, she knew the story of the womb, but she knew just as well that madness could be transmitted by whores, was it a lie or the truth?

Trying to stifle a shaky breath, she placed a kiss on his lips, tasting the wine, tasting sage and tasting blood, ,,You two are like the creators of Rome, two sides my love. But think what Geta has done for you, for me, for all of Rome…you are the king, Geta is the god and I am the sun," she reminded him of the story she had made up during one of his episodes.

Caracalla a king of honour who could have all the blood in the world, his brother the political god and she the sun who held them all together.

A story that made him pause, his memories shrouded in mist, he needed time while she continued to hold him gently and stroke his cheek, his grip on her hand tightening and softening, ,,Yes? Yes, I think so…I think so...despite the pain, I-I still have you" he slowly realised and sanity returned to his being.

As he cuddled up to her and laid his head in the crook of her neck and held her like that for a moment, tears in her eyes as she blinked them away and thanked the gods again that nothing bad had happened.

Caracalla's hand was also on her cheek and she saw the gold tooth as she smiled, ,,Thank you my sun" she heard him say before he pulled her into a kiss, finally back to her senses as he slowly pulled away from her and helped her stand up.

Despite the riots, despite Geta and despite the madness, the Emperor was still here, gently grasping her hand and once more locking her in a kiss, even if Rome fell they would not give up trying to help him out of this doom.

From the moment she had taken him as her husband, she knew that she would always be there for him and that Caracalla would never stop loving her. Because even in madness there was nothing stronger than love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@potatoesenpaii , @rainbowbox , @thankyouperconte , @myromanempire81 , @k-yurieee

[mommywandas]

Go to Sleep — W.M

——

Pairing: Mommy!Wanda x Fem!Reader

Warnings: bad relationship with mother, mommy!wanda, implied drugging, lactation kink, pet names.

A/N: My first Wanda fic, pls be nice :,)

——

To say your relationship with your mother was rocky would have been an understatement. Most nights were full of screaming matches, mainly on her behalf but occasionally you lost your cool, unable to hold back.

"Just get out of my sight!" Your mother yelled, pointing to the front door of your shared home. You were old enough to get your own place, but you had been struggling to hold down jobs that earned proper money, consequently forcing you to stay living with your mom. Oh how you wished things were different.

"I'll sleep somewhere else tonight but I'm coming back tomorrow to take my things. I'm done here." Sadness and anger seeped through your words. This had happened enough times now, you having to sleep at a friend's house. But this was your last straw. You couldn't spend another night under this roof.

"Fine." Your mother looked away, seemingly unable to bear the sight of you. Taking a deep breath, you ran upstairs, grabbing the essentials, toiletries, a change of clothes and phone charger. Without saying another word to the other woman, you left the house, backpack slung over your shoulder. It was a cold night, causing you to shiver, wishing you'd brought a coat, but you weren't going back now. Your shaky hands reached for your phone, unlocking it and pulling up your friend's contact. At the same time, you saw it was almost one in the morning. Did you really want to disturb him? And besides, none of your friends were particularly close to you, not by your choice. It was like every friend you made, they just didn't like you enough. And you didn't know why.

As you scrolled through your contacts, desperately trying to find someone who would probably be awake, you caught sight of the woman who was very close with your mom.

Wanda Maximoff.

She had told you to call night or day, knowing the issues at home. And now seemed like the perfect time to utilize that offer. So you hesitantly pressed the call button. She picked up on the forth ring.

"(Y/N)?" A sleepy voice sounded through the phone, and you could picture her rubbing her eyes from tiredness.

"Hi.. uh.." Unexpectedly, tears started to form in your eyes, voice wavering. You heard a ruffle of sheets, she had sat up, her voice now turning into concern.

"Are you okay?"

You nodded, then remembered she couldn't see you, so you mumbled, "Yeah.. uhm.. I just don't know where to go."

"Where are you? I'll come and pick you up." You could hear another ruffle, presumably Wanda getting ready to leave, but you quickly stopped her.

"No, no, I can walk to yours, I'm not far." You were already waking her up, intruding on her night, the least you could do was walk a couple of blocks. After her initial protests, she finally gave in. So you slipped your phone into the bag and started the journey. Walking alone at night always scared you, but it didn't take long before you were knocking on a door. The door swung open immediately, and you were met with a very worried Wanda.

"(Y/N), I've been so worried since you called." She wrapped her arms around you, and you could smell her floral scent. You'd always loved her. In fact, you'd spent most of your teenage years crushing on her secretly. Like any teenager, to be honest. You hugged her back, sniffling quietly.

"I—I'm sorry, I just didn't know where else to go, and everyone's asleep and you said to call whenever I wanted, and my mom hates me and—"

You were cut off by Wands pressing a finger to your lips. "Sweetheart, don't worry. Come in, you must be freezing." Her soft tone melted you to the core, and you couldn't help but follow her inside, shivering at the warmth. You weren't quite aware of what she was doing, because you were lost in your self destructive thoughts, but a few minutes later she was standing in front of you with a hot mug of cocoa. More tears prickled in your eyes, because not even your mother had shown you this type of kindness. You held the mug in your hands, warming up. Her thumb reached out and wiped your stray tears.

"It must have been a big fight, huh?"

You nodded, looking down at the smooth chocolate. "Yeah.. she told me to 'get out of her sight'. But I don't know—" You trailed off, a strain in your voice. "I don't know where I'm going to go. I have nowhere. None of my friends like me enough to let me sleep on their couch until I get my bearings."

She sighed softly, her empathy radiating off her. "You can stay with me, honey, as long as you like." Her voice was gentle, exactly what you needed, a stark contrast to the voice that had just been shouting at you.

"You mean that?" Your eyes lit up, feeling warm inside.

She chuckled, tucking some of your hair behind your ear. "Of course, sweetheart. I have a spare room already set up."

The relief spread through your body— you had a place to stay! Someone who actually wanted you!

"Thank you so much, thank you." Your thanks came gushing out, before she guided your hand on the mug up to your lips.

"Drink, darling."

You sipped, and the chocolate was sweet, slightly too sweet? You didn't give that any mind though, just drinking the warm liquid. "Mhm, this is good."

"Anything for you, sweet girl."

You suddenly felt very sleepy, eyes beginning to close. You hadn't been this tired before, right? "Sleepy.." You mumbled, body feeling heavy.

"That's okay, baby, let's get you to bed."

She took the mostly finished mug out of your hands, washing it up in an instant before slipping an arm around your waist and guiding you up the stairs. If you had been more aware, you would have noticed more of your surroundings. The pretty decor, the cosy feel of the house, but you weren't in any state to admire any of that.

"Poor thing.." She murmured, and led you into a bedroom. You collapsed on the bed, yawning softly as you curled up. You could smell the sheets, just the same as Wanda's scent. You smiled to yourself before realising you must be in her bed. You woke up a little more.

"I thought I was going in your spare room?"

She smiled knowingly, laying down beside you, pyjamas already on from before. "It's okay, baby, mommy wants you here." She whispered, pulling the sheets over your clothed body. "Don't worry about anything."

You tried to think straight, to wonder why she had called herself 'mommy', though you found that you didn't care at all. Your mouth felt dry all of a sudden, and you licked your lips, seeking out something you didn't know you wanted.

"Do you want to nurse on me, baby?" Wanda's voice was floating around you, through the clouds of sleepiness. You didn't want to ask what that meant because before you knew it, she was guiding your head towards her chest, where she had pulled down her night shirt to reveal her breast.

"Suckle, sweetheart, I know you want it."

You nodded mindlessly, your lips latching onto her nipple, sucking gently and humming when you felt the sweet taste of milk. Could life get any more perfect than this, you wondered.

"That's it honey, go to sleep. Mommy will be right with you."

——

[solxamber]

Hello! I saw your fic(?) On the reader being similar to the white rabbit!

So I had a similar idea but with absolem the caterpillar from Alice in wonderland. With heartslabyul, octavinelle and pomefiore (added on maybe chenya ?). Basically the reader is a 2nd year and is a very cocky person when it comes to things like subjects they get high scores in along with having bad anger issues? This is just an idea I have at the top of my head 😅 I also don't make requests often if that was clear lol.

Thank you if reading my request ! :)

It's been so long since I read Alice in Wonderland but I hope this is what you wanted <3

Absolem! Reader with Heartslabyul, Octavinelle and Pomefiore + Che'nya

Rest of the characters: here

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle Rosehearts had no idea how to handle you. On one hand, you were technically a model student—when you weren’t terrorizing everyone with your arrogance, that is. On the other hand, your cocky attitude made his eye twitch like he was seconds away from writing up a whole new rule just for your ego.

“You may have gotten the highest score in Alchemy,” Riddle said stiffly, his hands clenched behind his back like he was bracing himself for an incoming tidal wave of sass, “but that does not excuse you from following protocol during experiments!"

You leaned back in your chair, all smug grin and half-lidded eyes. “Oh, Riddle, Riddle, Riddle. If I followed your ‘protocol,’ we’d still be stuck trying to figure out how to transmute lead into potatoes.”

His face flushed as red as a rose. “That is not the point!”

“I’m just saying,” you replied with a shrug, “your rules are cute, but some of us prefer actual results.”

There was a long, tension-filled silence. Then, Riddle’s lips twitched, and you could almost hear his brain rewriting Rule 392: No Sassing The Dorm Leader.

Trey Clover

If Trey had a talent, it was the ability to defuse a situation with nothing more than a laid-back smile and a soft-spoken word or two. But when it came to your outbursts, even Trey occasionally had to roll up his sleeves.

“You’re getting pretty fired up over here, huh?” Trey said, folding his arms and giving you that calm, big-brother smile.

You narrowed your eyes. “They just don’t get it, Trey. If they’d actually listen to me, we’d be done with these stupid group projects in half the time.”

Trey hummed, still as placid as ever. “Maybe. Or maybe they just don’t appreciate being called ‘incompetent cabbage heads’ every time they mess up.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t call them that this time.”

“Oh, my mistake. That was last week.” Trey chuckled, grabbing a cupcake from a tray. “Anyway, maybe you should try a new approach. Like, I don’t know... baking?”

You squinted at him suspiciously. “Is this another one of your ‘therapy via baked goods’ attempts? Because the last time I tried, Cater put the whole thing on Magicam, and I’m still seeing memes about ‘exploding tarts.’”

Trey just smiled knowingly. “Everyone’s gotta start somewhere.”

Cater Diamond

“#MoodSwings, am I right?”

Cater had this incredible (and incredibly annoying) ability to pop up just when you were about to lose it. Today was no different. You were fuming over some insignificant thing someone said in class, and right when you were about to explode, there he was, phone at the ready.

“I swear, if you tag me in another one of your posts—” you started, but he was already snapping pics, duck-lip selfie style.

“Whoa, chill, bestie! It’s not my fault you’ve got that ‘rage extrodinaire’ aesthetic. The followers eat it up. Seriously, you should start a channel. #CaterToYourAnger.”

You glared. “I’d start with a video called ‘How to Get Away with Smashing Cater’s Phone.’”

Cater grinned, absolutely unfazed. “Aww, love you too, cupcake. Just think of all the likes we’d get!”

Ace Trappola

Ace? Oh, Ace lived to rile you up. He thrived on it like a plant soaking in the sun.

“So,” he said, leaning back against the wall with a smug grin, “I heard you were bragging about your Potions grade again. Shocking.”

You glared daggers at him. “I don’t have to brag. The results speak for themselves. Unlike your grades, which are probably hiding in the shadow of your last failed test.”

“Oof, that’s cold. You sure you’re not secretly studying Ice Magic?” Ace shot back, raising an eyebrow. “You know, all that boasting is just you overcompensating for something. Like, maybe you’re secretly terrible at everything else?”

Your temper flared instantly, and you stepped closer, ready to unleash your wrath. “Say that again, and I’ll show you what happens when—”

“Oh, hold on—Deuce! Hey, Deuce!” Ace shouted, and before you could lay into him, Deuce was running over, looking confused and ready to brawl for no reason.

“Are we fighting? We’re fighting, right?” Deuce asked, fists already up.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Deuce, no one’s fighting.”

“Yet,” Ace muttered with a wink, and you had to resist the urge to scream.

Deuce Spade

Deuce tried. He really did. But no matter how hard he tried to match your fiery personality, he just couldn’t seem to get it quite right.

“You know, I’ve been practicing too,” Deuce said one day, puffing out his chest like he was about to impress you. “I’m getting better at Transfiguration!”

You blinked. “Really? Didn’t you turn someone’s textbook into a chicken by accident last week?”

Deuce’s face turned red. “I-It wasn’t a chicken! It was... okay, maybe it was a chicken, but I’m improving!”

“Sure you are,” you teased, crossing your arms. “I bet your next experiment will turn the whole dorm into a petting zoo.”

Deuce stared at you for a moment, clearly weighing his options. “...That would actually be kinda cool.”

You facepalmed. “Deuce, please.”

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul wasn’t intimidated by your cockiness. No, in fact, he saw it as something to be... monetized. Because why not take that overblown confidence of yours and turn it into something profitable for the Mostro Lounge?

“You could be quite the business partner,” Azul remarked, smiling slyly from across his desk. “With your top grades and undeniable talent, I’m sure students would pay handsomely for tutoring sessions.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What’s the catch?”

Azul feigned innocence. “Catch? Why, there’s no catch at all. Just a little... arrangement. I take a modest percentage of the profits, and in return, you gain access to the resources of the Mostro Lounge. Think of it as... a mutually beneficial partnership.”

You tilted your head. “So basically, I do all the work, and you skim off the top?”

Azul’s grin widened. “A shrewd observation, but I prefer the term strategic partnership.”

Jade Leech

Jade, on the other hand, was a master of subtlety. He didn’t confront you head-on like the others did. No, Jade had this unnerving way of quietly watching you, like a predator biding its time.

“Your temper is quite fascinating,” Jade remarked one day, his eerie smile never faltering.

You crossed your arms defensively. “Fascinating how?"

“Oh, just the way it flares up so quickly. It’s almost... predictable.” He tilted his head slightly. “I wonder, how well do you control it in dangerous situations?”

“Why, are you planning to test me or something?” you asked warily, already regretting the question.

Jade chuckled softly. “Oh no, nothing of the sort. I’m merely... observing. You’re quite the specimen, after all.”

You shuddered. “Please stop talking like I’m some kind of lab rat.”

Floyd Leech

Floyd, on the other hand, lived to push your buttons. He loved it when you lost your cool because it meant you were interesting. And Floyd? He thrived on interesting.

“Oi, Shrimpy!” Floyd’s voice echoed across the lounge as he slung an arm around your shoulders. “Heard you got top marks again. Big shot, huh?”

You side-eyed him. “Don’t call me Shrimpy.”

“Awww, but I like it!” he whined, pouting dramatically. “You get all mad when I do it. It’s fun! Do it again! Get mad!”

You groaned. “Why are you like this?”

Floyd grinned, his sharp teeth gleaming. “Why not? It’s more fun to watch you blow a gasket. Maybe I’ll squeeze ya real good next time you freak out.”

You shook him off. “No thanks, I’d rather not have my ribs crushed.”

“Awww, but that’s the best part!”

Vil Schoenheit

Vil couldn’t stand your cocky attitude. Mostly because he couldn’t stand anything that was less than perfection—and in his eyes, you were far from it.

“Such arrogance,” Vil remarked, inspecting his reflection in a compact mirror as you ranted about how no one appreciated your brilliance. “It’s one thing to be talented, but it’s another thing entirely to lack grace.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, please. Like you’ve never been confident in your own abilities.”

Vil snapped the compact shut, finally looking at you with a sharp, withering gaze. “Confidence is one thing. Vulgarity is is another.” He raised an eyebrow, his perfect lips curving in a condescending smile. “And darling, you’re teetering dangerously close to the latter.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “I’m just saying, if everyone else could keep up with me, maybe I wouldn’t have to be this way.”

Vil waved a hand dismissively. “Keep up with you? I highly doubt that. There’s a fine line between confidence and crudeness, and you’ve trampled right over it in those worn-out boots of yours.”

You glanced down at your boots, scowling. “Hey! My boots are perfectly fine!”

Vil gave you a once-over, a pitying sigh slipping from his lips. “I could recommend a stylist, but I doubt even the best could save you from that attitude of yours."

Rook Hunt

If there was anyone who found your fiery personality endlessly amusing, it was Rook. The man seemed to delight in your temper tantrums, treating them like some kind of grand performance.

“Oh, what a magnifique display of passion!” Rook exclaimed one afternoon, after you’d shouted at some poor first-year for knocking into you. “Your fire burns so brightly, it is a wonder you do not set the very air ablaze!”

You glared at him, still fuming. “I’m not trying to entertain you, Rook.”

“But you do! Oh, you do!” Rook clapped his hands together, his eyes shining with admiration. “To witness such raw emotion—it is truly a gift. You are like a tempest, sweeping all in your path.”

“Pretty sure that’s just a fancy way of saying I’m a walking disaster.”

“Non, non, non!��� Rook laughed, shaking his head. “You are a force of nature, one that cannot be tamed! To tame such a spirit would be a crime against beauty itself!”

You blinked at him, unsure whether to be flattered or concerned. “Okay, sure. Whatever makes you happy, Rook.”

Epel Felmier

Epel had mixed feelings about you. On one hand, he admired your guts—your temper was something to be feared, and Epel respected that. On the other hand, you were annoying.

“You know, just ‘cause you’re good at Magic History doesn’t mean you gotta rub it in everyone’s face,” Epel grumbled one day after you’d corrected him in class. “Ain’t nobody here tryin’ to hear that.”

You leaned against the desk, a smug grin on your face. “It’s not my fault you can’t keep up. Maybe if you spent more time studying and less time trying to look tough, you’d have better grades.”

Epel’s face turned red. “I am tough! And if you say somethin’ like that again, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” You raised an eyebrow, daring him to continue.

Epel gritted his teeth, fists clenched at his sides. “I’ll... I’ll... kick your butt in PE next time!”

You snorted. “Sure, Epel. Let me know how that goes.”

He muttered something under his breath, probably swearing revenge in the form of some country-style wrestling move, but you were already too busy planning your next academic triumph to care.

Che'nya

Of course, Che’nya didn’t mind your attitude at all. In fact, he found it downright entertaining. He’d pop up at the most inconvenient moments, grinning that mischievous grin of his and waiting for you to lose your cool.

“Nyah~ Why so serious, Y/N?” Che’nya’s voice floated down from seemingly nowhere. “All that steam comin’ outta your ears can’t be good for your health.”

You looked up, scowling as you spotted him lounging in a tree, that trademark grin never leaving his face. “What do you want, Che’nya?”

He tilted his head, blinking innocently. “Just wonderin’ if you were plannin’ to blow a gasket today. I’ve got a front-row seat!"

“Get down here before I make you,” you snapped.

“Oooh, feisty! You know, it’s a good thing you’re not in Wonderland.” He chuckled, disappearing and reappearing right beside you. “You’d fit right in with all the wild tempers down there.”

You rolled your eyes. “And you’d fit right in with the pests.”

Che’nya laughed, not the least bit offended. “Nyah~ You say the sweetest things! See ya around, Hothead.”

And with that, he disappeared again, leaving you to stew in your own frustration. Typical Che’nya.

Masterlist

[deathbxnny]

Hi

Can I request a jinx x fem reader with abandonment issues that only grew stronger with jinx disappearing after silco death

(Sorry if that was long it’s my first time requesting :))

Please don't leave me. | Jinx x Fem!Reader

Hey there, dear Anon!! I absolutely love your request, and dw, it isn't long at all! Thank you for your great ask, and I hope you'll like this!!<33

Content: Heavy angst, abandonment issues, unhinged Jinx, grief, hurt/kinda comfort?, established romantic relationships, spoilers for season 2, sfw

Reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns!

((Not proofread))

One day, she was there with you at your side, cuddling you to sleep whilst she promised to be back soon from a mission. And the next, she was gone for good, far away somewhere to escape her adoptive father's murder, including you, it seemed.

In a way, you weren't all too surprised by it, considering how her episodes were. Yes, it drove you mad to be apart from her for more than a couple of hours. But you were used to it and told yourself that she'd be back for you eventually. You two had an unreadable bond. You were always her "pretty girl" since she first met you. Would it be dramatic to say that it was maybe even love at first sight? It never was to her, at least. She always was the one to claim that you were made for eachother.

Yet now you wondered if it was all a simple lie. Or maybe she had forgotten all about you in the heat of the moment, the panic drowning out any emotion she had for you. And you stopped thinking about it about three months into her disappearance, hoping that acceptance would set you free from the exhausting cycle of fear and depression you were in.

How were you even functioning without her anymore? The answer to it was "not at all", but even that was too simple. Jinx had abandoned you. She had done the one thing she swore she'd never do because she out of all people would understand how much that hurt. How much it messed with one's soul and body. Every second without her tormented you, and you couldn't help but wonder why you weren't enough for her to at least take you along to wherever she went. You would've followed her to the end of the world if it meant not ending up alone like this anymore.

You were going crazy and it only solidified when one night you found yourself waking up to the image of her laying on her side in your once shared bed, those magenta eyes glowing in the darkness of your room. You had imagined this moment plenty of times before in many different ways. In some daydreams, you scream at her in anger for abandoning you, and in others, you simply ignore her and turn away, just like she had with you. Neither of those things happened, and instead, you burst into tears and practically jumped onto her.

You asked her for an explanation. You asked her why she abandoned you. You asked her if she still loved you. But all she did was soothe you as you cried and sobbed, her hand carefully rubbing your back up and down with a newfound softness she had never had before. Whatever she experienced in her absence must've changed something in her. You could feel it deep down. The way her soul seemed lighter and calmer. But your anger for just leaving you like this didn't subside, even when you drifted off to sleep.

You woke up to an empty bed, though, and that confirmed that you must've been hallucinating... until you notice a small note on your nightstand detailing her return in a couple of days. She hadn't forgotten you after all. She had come to find you despite her grief and tribulations.

And that made you smile weakly for the first time in months as her love finally seeped in again, even from afar.

[obsessive-valentine]

Dark-Yandere!Farmer x GN!Reader

Wishing it was summer so bad so have this.

Being used to your captor being crude and rough towards you to keep you in line and obedient, today came as a shock when he seems to be empathetic and soften for you when you get sick during a heatwave. TW- kidnapped reader, non-con touching and hint of farmers past anger issues traumatising reader making them paranoid.

Its stifling hot, all the windows and doors are open for circulation and lace curtains drawn to try keep the house cool, but it does little. He had left the house earlier than usual to start his morning chores before the heat got unbearable, he had kissed your head and left hours before sunrise. You hadn’t seen him since. You probably could walk a few steps outside and see him in the distance somewhere but you barely had the energy to drag yourself from the bed to the sofa- infront of the fan.

You wished you hadn’t wasted energy on finding a cooler spot because the fan was only pushing around the hot air. With a exasperated sight you excepted your fate, waiting to succumb to heat stroke and begin vomiting. Laying flat on your stomach with only a vest top and underwear on, thinking about how good a glass of water would be right about now.

Until the dreaded sound of heavy boots stomp onto the deck, and into the house. “Fuckin’ hell” he huffed wiping sweat from his face with the shirt he instead slung over his shoulder when the sun had risen. You almost jumped a mile when the next time you opened your eyes from a slow blink he was standing right infront of you.

You braced yourself for whatever might come, used to being exposed to emotional whiplash. You could never read his face until it was to late, you tried to calm yourself from overacting by reasoning that you haven’t done anything wrong recently.

He leaned down without a word, the back of his dirty calloused hand pressed against your cheek and then the other one “you’ve been drinking water?” He questions suspiciously straightening up and towering over your form. You stayed laying down wishing to sink into the sofa, how do you tell him you couldn’t be bothered? You mumble a pathetic ‘no’ staring lifelessly at his dusty beaten up boots.

Expecting a scolding or to be told to ‘toughen up’, you flinched when instead you were met with his rough hand rubbing your back out of pity “hang tight for a moment”. It could have been just a minute or hour from when he left the room and returned with a glass of ice and water, you were to disorientated to get a grasp of the time or if you’d blinked or napped.

Slowly he pulled you up into a sitting position by your wrist, you groaned as a pulsating ache in your skull began “I know, hurts hu?” He steadies you with a firm hand in your shoulder before giving you the glass of water and made sure you drink it all. You feel the cold salvation trickle down your throat leaving your mouth cold for a moment, savouring the way the ice kissed your lips.

“Stupid of me, shoulda checked up on you. Think it’s heatstroke” he takes the cup off you once it’s all gone and places it on the table before bending down to pick you up “Can’t I trust you to look after yourself for just a few hours? This is why you need me sweetheart” he rather softly lectures you as he carries you down the hall, to the bathroom, turning on the cold tap to the bath.

He helped you out of what’s left of your clothes and steadied you as you stepped into the slow rising water. You felt to nauseous and uncomfortable to mind being naked or the fact he was also stripping down and slipping in the small bath behind you.

To tired to fight when he pulled you to rest your head back onto his shoulder or when his hands wandered when washing you with a cold cloth. You just closed your eyes and welcomed the cold goosebumps that spread up your legs and arms. You both stayed there for maybe half an hour, laying back in the cold with his hands mindlessly gliding up and down your body.

...

“Come on, I got work to finish” he huffed out pulling away his hands, watching you stir awake from you half conscious sate before getting out and wrapping a towel around himself. You grabbed ahold of his hands as he helped you out and handed you a towel. He wordlessly left but returned with one of his shirts walking past you to wet it under the cold tap “put this on, it will keep away heat rash and cool you down” his eyes wandered as you pulled it over yourself but you were none the wiser, struggling to pull the wet shirt over you as it clung to your skin.

Pulling on his clothes and boots he then lead you outside onto the shady front porch, sitting you on the old rocking chair with a book and glass of water. “Holler if you need anything, sweetheart” you felt a lot better but still exhausted, and for a moment relaxed and unafraid of the unusually caring man. That is until he turned around for a breif moment as he walked away “don’t you go wandering”

He was half smiling and it sounded light hearted but you knew it was anything but. It was a clear threat. A wave of sickness reintroduced it’s self, but now for a different reason.

You didn’t read the book but rather watch him work in a nearby field with sleepy eyes. How he would lovingly interact with the animals, how scarily strong he was lifting and dragging feed and muck around, how he’d carefully and proudly inspect his vegetables when watering them.

One of the livestock-guard-dogs came up onto the deck to keep you company, laying at your feet, and the cool breeze against the wet shirt sent waves of relief over you body.

...

At some point you had fallen asleep and when you woke up it was late afternoon and your shirt was dry, the chair rocked forward a bit then arms snaked around your waist and under you butt. You almost flew into fight or flight mode until you remembered where you are and who with, even though yet another headache you knew it was useless.

To your surprise he scooped you up and sat back down In the chair with you in his lap “welcome back to the land of the living” he joked, he didn’t even have to look at you to know he’d woken you up, to busy digging around in his pocket for a cigarette. You didn’t answer still getting to grips of what time it is after being rudely pulled from a heat coma.

“How you feeling? Want me to wet the shirt again?” He lit the cigarette before pressing the back of his hand to your cheek seemingly satisfied with how much your temperature has come down “no thank you” you glanced at him but adverting you eyes quickly remembering how unusually soft he treated you this morning when you were dazed and confused. Wondering when he’d become crude and rough again.

He hummed in a response resting against the back of the chair dragging you down with him, he takes a long drag of the cigarette “How about we watch a movie tonight? Got some old DVDs in the attic” he offers looking out contently at his farm and his free hand runs through your hair. “I’d like that” you said sounding more like a question, unsure if there was a catch but there was nothing.

Just a short nod and some peaceful quiet with the chirps of birds and one of the horses whinny’ing in the nearby field. There was no lingering dread or fear, just peace. And maybe if you closed your eyes and imagined hard enough you could trick yourself into thinking you are on a summer country vacation with the man you dreamed of as a teenager.

For the first time since you got kidnapped, you aren’t plotting an escape, trying to stay quiet and unseen, or fearful of facing the mans wrath or worried about spending the night in the shed. Your heads empty and feel rested.

...

Tomorrow you’d lash out again, remembering today and how you seem to be slowly accepting your situation -accepting your kidnapper. With a clear-head in the morning you will grow afraid of the reality that your stuck here for life. But as for today, you have a moment of peace - free from worry and perhaps a bit of contentment even if just for the night. As he finally has the chance to lovingly hold you close -watching the movie he let you pick.

[thecameronchronicles]

Lessons With Mister Cameron

TW: sex without a condom, "public" sex, surrender of virtue, manipulative behavior, dirty talk, vulgarity, rafe is a warning all himself, isn't he?

SUMMARY: You always thought it was a fantasy until he calls you after class to discuss your paper and decides you need a more hands-on approach.

Lessons With Mister Cameron

"Y/N?"

Your eyes rise in a swift snap that stabilize where you actively evade every day in your second class of the day.

Cool blue eyes appearing ready above a smirk widen your own to the particular focus he leaves for you to discern. But it is the particular fullness of those tempting lips on topics that should bore you to death that make you the avid scholar. Only now, the sudden attention from him makes you question the last five minutes of class as you were busy in a daydream of his touch.

In what would be your first touch.

"Once the hour is over, come see me...yeah?" His gold pinky ring catches the light as he rubs his lips, drawing an unfair attention. You can only nod as any words feel jumped on the tip of your tongue. A sheen of something mirroring pride cast in his eyes and it leaves you going over everything you have done for his class.

You wonder if you made a mistake where he will offer extra credit, your mind drifting to a more illicit way your inexperienced body was willing to give it. You fidget in the worry of your lip and fingers in rush through your hair before ultimately coming to the dreaded final moment of the class.

"Remember that my office is closed on Tuesday." He calls to the class, most in a rush to carry on with whatever collegiate party is already beginning across campus. Meanwhile, you wait until the room clears until finally standing.

Your legs feel unstable as you come to his desk as he has his back turned but a smirk in the tilt of of his head as he pulls up a paper.

Your paper.

Of those you have aced, you understand precisely why it is that he holds it with such regard.

"I dont want to have to fail you..." Your breath squeezes only the gasp of an exhale.

"Please Mister Cameron-" His brows knit and his jaw clenches in anger.

"Mister," he unwinds his fists at the title and pulls tension from his neck with a cock of it. "Cameron was my father..." He issues a step forward, expensive cologne awakens your want to humor whatever mischief dances behind his eyes.

"You can call me sir." The swallow is heavy as you nod.

"Y-yes sir."

"You're an innocent little thing aren't you?" He asks in a turn around his desk, the words almost unbelievable if not for the grin lifting half of his mouth in amusement.

"I-"

"You would have to be to misunderstanding the subject. Almost like you haven't...been intimate." You swallow and it meets somewhere against the attempt to breathe until you are rigid.

You wonder if it is obvious.

How can be possibly know you're a virgin from the lacking detail of a paper? Why not just assuming you're a prude?

"Now I can't send you into the world," he extends his hand before leading it back in and loose at his side as if exhausted, "with such a misunderstanding. I need you to sit for me." You begin to step in the direction of the front lecture chair before he makes some call between a whistle and distaste. You see him tapping the edge of his desk.

"Here." There is no honey in his tone. It's more like whiskey and you have an overwhelming pull to be intoxicated by it.

You place your silhouette on that which he summoned before he turns away and begins to write. He could have written the answers to an upcoming test and all you could focus on was the muscles working against the tight fabric of his shirt.

A snap of his fingers tore you from a vision of the fabric around you as you climbed the length of him as he lay outstretched in bed. Maybe this desk-

"Where is that mind running off to? Hmm?" He asks using his pinky to force a look from you. His touch is limited but enough to send sparks instead of blood through your veins.

"I'm...nervous, Mister-" his brow flexes, "sir..."

He seems pleased. Deeply, sinfully, pleased.

"Let us begin with the act itself as you seemed to glaze over the necessary details..." A diagram stands before you; a man and a woman.

"Have you ever been aroused, Miss Y/LN?" You slowly nod. A moment of silence lay between you as if he wants details. A fire behind his eyes validates this before he moves on.

"It happens as the body's response to stimulation. Foreplay can heighten the response-"

"Foreplay?" You almost whisper, the word somehow dirty.

"Yes. What a boy-or girl does to turn you on..." His expression shifts from contentment to intrigue, almost astonishment.

"A kiss, if done right...a caress..." His head cocks as he steps just against the skin of your legs. "Dirty words for innocent minds needing it to get, in your case...wet." You struggle to breathe. His scene, his proximity, the tension, it's all too much.

"It can be anything tender or vulgar, up to the taste of the person. In my experience, it's the gentle stimulation of a girl that makes her the most ready..."

"L-like what s-sir?"

"Like... rubbing her nipples....kissing her neck....juuust tracing her clit." The images flash for all but the last.

"You've never had anyone touch you there before have you, Miss Y/LN." He is impossibly close, the features you managed to fantasize over are amplified until you're breathless.

You can only shake your head, too embarrassed.

"Mmm...There are different kinds of people. Some who like to rush. Some who prefer to take their time. Me, I'm a proactive type of person, but I digress...I prefer to show...not tell...May I?" He motions for your thighs and you nod, your body alive by its own ambition as you can only wait in awe.

Your first touch. From HIM.

"Take your hand and feel." You shouldn't. Someone could come in. Someone could report you or him. He could lose his job. You could get kicked off campus. But the heat behind his eyes makes you tempt the reasons and worries until you're obeying.

"There's so many sensitive little parts there, but my favorite is that little button-" When your eyes are heavy he grins. "There...." His hand is over yours, not touching more than the skin of your fingers and yet it is erotic beyond that of your own touch.

"Do exactly what feels good..." He leans over you, dragging his nose along your shoulder as he inhales.

"Dammit..." You whimper as he looks with lustful eyes narrowed in need.

"Foreplay for a man?" He unbuckles himself, the sound of buckle and stretched vinyl resonate through you.

"To stroke..." He gently escorts your hand, giving plenty of time to pull away, but you only feel beckoned. Only it isn't to wrap around him, he holds your palm upright.

"Spit on it. Get it really wet." You pause before he uses his other hand to your jaw, his thumb guiding your mouth open.

"Tongue out." He spits and you are tempted to swallow the taste of him. You obey instead, as he motions exactly where he wants it. You then lubricate his hand in your dual spittle until he drives it against him.

"Oh yeah...." His head comes back, eyes closed, apple of his throat bobbing in unkempt pleasure. "Rub your thumb over the head-ohhh yeah...yeah yeah yeah..." His brows clench and his jaw falls slack as his eyes open to you, unrecognizable of the man who taught you since early fall.

"Did I say to stop touching that sweet little pussy?" You heat to his words, never heard them towards you, or at all for that matter.

"Keep. Fucking. Rubbing." He issues his order, falling victim to the novice touch sending him into orbit. Such a soft hand on his hard velvet and you feel high knowing you're causing this to him.

"Wh-what else can I do for a man?" He has you standing in a second.

"Your mouth." He pushes you onto your knees, his thick cock dripping and glistening for you.

"And not just a man. Me. Only me. Now open that pretty little throat." He is gentle with your hair in a pet before sliding over your tongue.

"Fuck! How do you know to do that with your tongue?" His eyes turn into slits as he has you against his desk, a cautious hand around your throat.

"Fuck, yes, baby." He manages, the grip worsening but for guidance.

"Just breathe through your nose." The feel of him is madness. You should feel degraded and dirty but you feel empowered and confident, enough to test him. You wrap your tongue around him, using it to taste the veins struggling in pulse against your devoted muscle. You claw at his thighs as he struggles to keep his moans silent and yet neither of you bother to care.

"You lying to me? You let someone between those perfect little thighs? Hmm?"

"N-no!"

He scoffs.

"I bet not even your little fingers know how tight you are. But you're gonna let me know, aren't you?" You nod, hesitation lasting only the duration of doubt silenced by his fingers pushing aside your panties and sheathing inside.

"Oh fuck's sake." He sighs.

"Is it...okay?"

"Okay?! You're so fucking tight I need to get you close or I'm not bust the second I get inside."

"You're gonna..."

"Say it."

"You're gonna fuck me?"

"Just like I've imagined since you first walked into my class. But first. I'm getting you ready because I don't wanna hurt you. At least not yet..." He lowers himself and uses two fingers to beckon you to the edge of the desk. Sitting in his chair as it screams beneath him, he pulls you dependent on his arms as he keeps his eyes on you.

"Another way to stimulate a woman..." He uses the tip of his tongue as his finger holds the panties aside. It's explorative at first until purpose comes when he meets your clit.

"Do not fight it. I need it." He pulls you against his face. "I fucking need it." He proves it in the starvation of his taste. He savors and attacks in equal measure, his mouth never leaving as his hot breath only amplifies the sensation.

"Ohhh yeah baby...ride my fucking tongue." Your body obeys that which you struggle to rein in. He forces your hips when you still, until your body buckles.

"Come! Now!" He growls, vibrations from his order pull you to the edge as his two fingers inside stroke a patch of nerves send you over.

"Oh!" You cry out, his name burning in your throat. "Sir" feels too distant for the way you feel so vulnerable to him.

"I need to be inside you right fucking now." You nod viciously as he stands, not caring to wipe his mouth, as you see yourself having wet him. Curious and looking for an excuse, you pull him to you and kiss him.

"A way to please a girl...kiss." You manage as he growls.

"Fuck!" He takes you against his mouth, pushing himself inside you at the same time to cause a distraction. Immediate pressure stills you as pain lingers in the horizon.

"Fucking is meant to be for procreation but we have fun trying." He scoffs. "You. Nobody else fucking gets to try with you. Got it? You need it, you come to me! Shit!" He recants, pulling out enough to see you coat his cock. "Say it."

"You."

"Good girl." He thrusts, your breath taken as a stinging pain surprises you from the pleasure he brought you.

"That was your hymen. You're gonna be sore and you're still gonna fucking take it." You grip onto his shoulders and feel him take you as he pleases. Your body is wound tight until he kisses your neck, your collarbone, and up around to your ear. You can't adjust to anything as he leads a hand to your throat and guides you backwards until you meet the desk. Papers shove beneath you as he moves with fluid abandon.

Like waves to a shore, if the waves were turbulent from a storm that was Rafe Cameron.

His weight pins you flat in the thrashing you wish to make freely, your thighs shake, and he continues. You try to speak but feel compressed in the need to hear his grunts, so eager and delicious. You wish to taste them but in the try see him reach over you and to the rim of the desk, gripping it tightly.

"Mine. Fucking mine. Pussy-ass, lips, say it. Say you won't leave." There's something sad behind his eyes, former neglect bleeding from his desperations that still come out more as orders.

"I ..I won't."

"Good-ah girl." He hoists your leg over his hip and dives into you.

"That pressure building is an orgasm. Since you already got one...you're gonna wait until I come before you get your next one." He stands between your legs, the sight of him inside you making you gape. His grin should be illegal as he licks his lips and drags his thumb along the swollen bottom half.

He takes your ankles and leads them beside his ears as he uses his forearm to pin your calves to his chest.

"Deeper is always better. You can change angles."

"How many?"

"Don't worry, baby, you're gonna know them all." He leans forward, constricting your breath as he pounds.

"Oh fuck yes..." He seethes behind clenched teeth, such passion masked in vulgarities.

"You feel me? My cum wants to fill you up until it drops down your thighs. Gonna take it? You can also let me...ahh shit ...you can let me fill your mouth or just cover you ..."

"Wherever you want, Sir."

"Ugh fuck-you need to tell me. I need to hear you say it." He grips your neck again, slowly teasing you with slow depth and shallow speed. "I need to see your innocent little lips dirty for me."

"Come inside me!"

"Yeah? You want it inside?"

"Please!"

"Ohhh you're gonna fucking get it...so...fucking...deep." He becomes unhinged, his muscles tightening as he pounds you into the desk. Reports and essays crinkle in ruin beneath you as he burrows into your neck, kissing only to bruise your skin.

"Say it again."

"C-come inside me, sir. Please."

"Take it." He growls. "You're gonna feel it and you're gonna come because I fucking said so. So...come!" He growls, a pressure building from your toes now surges through you completely. The tight coil in your stomach unwinds between your legs and you coat him as he spills inside you.

"Fuck!" He erupts, the tremors of release coursing through you both.

"And now... you have me inside you. And since I didn't use a condom..." Your eyes widen.

"Sir..."

"Naive little Y/N, you're mine now.."

You struggle to rise, half in astonishment and half in fear. Your body aches in the pull he made to your virtue, in smithereens at his hands and beneath his devilish grin.

"You will come back on Tuesday..." You remember him telling the class his office was closed that day.

"But you said..."

"Tuesdays are for us." He kisses your lips, leaving behind a softness unexpected and almost forbidden. He doesn't even bother to look over your shoulder as he leaves but you long to follow him. If not for his words you may have assumed this was a one-time thing. Thankfully in the promise of a few days, you won't have to wait long.

But you know it will slowly chip away at you.

Consume you.

And you look forward to Tuesday above all else just to be touched by Mister Cameron.

MASTERLIST

[dovesdreaming]

౨ৎI want to wear his initial on a chain round my neck౨ৎ

Hi I hope this is good! I found getting jacks character hard and when I first imagined this it was a lot fluffier than what it turned into! But I would be happy to right a fluffier version of anyone would like that!! 1.3k words

Needs editing!!

Warnings: suggestive

Requested:@fuck-i-burnt-the-tea

Jack had never been a sentimental person. He was a pirate, they couldn’t care for anyone but themselves. Jack was widely known for that, not even having loyalties to his crew. There were very few things Jack cared about in this world. The first being his compass he kept it by his side at all times and never let it out of his sight and the second was a recent development. He had developed feelings for you. He didn’t know how it happened it went from you joking around with each other to him actually confiding in you, what was happening to him. Jack thought he could get rid of these feelings by pushing you away but the distance only made his heart want to be in your presence more. Jack didn’t understand feelings and he’d be damned if he let them get in the way of finding his recent treasure interest. There was a slight issue with this though as his compass would point in the direction of the treasure but then make a ticking motion towards wherever you were. He debated throwing you overboard or getting rid of you somehow so that he could finally get back to his pirate life yet he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

His crew had also become attached to you, it was impossible not to. You had a way of drawing everyone and making them feel comfortable. The men aboard also didn’t mind a woman on ship but they all respected you and would protect you if needed but after they had seen you fight a rival pirate ship they decided they more than likely would never be needed.

Gibbs had noticed a change in jacks behaviour, how could he not he was the only other person than you that was close to him.

He had suspicions but never brought it up because he knew that the Jack sparrow would never admit to having feelings for someone.

Jack was always a flirtatious person and when he noticed his feelings for you develop he cranked his flirting up to the point he would flirt with a mop if it looked like a woman to rid himself of thoughts about you. He needed you out of his head and this lead him to have multiple one night stands every time the ship docked somewhere, sometimes even several a night. He thought it was working but in reality it only made him crave you more.

You had feelings for Jack sparrow before you even joined his crew. His name was whispered throughout the pirate community with many mixed comments about him. From some of the stories you had heard he sounded like just your type of man. You however ended up on his ship by accident you had been looking for a permanent crew to join and this had been the only ship accepting new crew mates. You and Jack found common ground straight away and from there you only grew closer. You never thought much of your relationship until you felt you stomach bubble with a mix of anger and sadness every night when you saw Jack take another woman to bed. Inside you knew you were jealous but you weren’t ready to admit that to yourself yet, especially when he takes a new woman every night.

One night when you and Jack were hanging out at the bar you both had a few two many drinks. Most of the words coming out of your mouths now didn’t make sense to anyone, it was just drunk babbling. Jack had been eyeing up a few women that were across the bar all night and this had deepened the feeling in your gut. You were nearly blind drunk and jealous which were not good combinations. You became touchy with Jack, reaching your hands out to touch his hair and rub his shoulders. You also stared directly into his eyes making Jack question what had gotten into you. You launched yourself at him, grabbing his face in your hands and smashing you lips into his. He hesitated before his drunk haze of want took over and he kissed you back. The kiss got deeper and deeper before he lead you away and you became another woman he took into the night with him.

You woke up in an unfamiliar bed and you looked around to see clothes strewn across the room. The vague memory of last night was at the forefront of your mind yet the face of who you left with was a blur until you turned your head to find no other than your captain. Realisation hit you like a wave and you were frozen in panic. Your mind raced with thoughts and as you saw Jack stir from his sleep all your mind could come up with was to pretend you were asleep til he left, leaving all decisions to him.

Jack awoke and collected his clothes like he did every morning after his nightly activities. It was routine at this point and he usually didn’t bother to even spare a glance to the person in bed with him. He couldn’t remember any of their faces if he tried. Yet as he was walking toward the door he stopped dead in his tracks as he recognised the article of clothing on the floor. It was your average dress yet it sparked an image in his mind and that’s when his memory flooded back. He saw images of the night before with a woman under him. The face of the woman slowly came into focus and it was you. His head snapped to the figure in bed still and sure enough he saw your face just peeking from the covers still asleep.

He panicked and ran out the door slightly slamming it in his hastily exit.

Your relationship was slightly strained from this point on both wanting the other yet feeling as though the other didn’t feel the same. Jack was also still struggling to allow himself to have feelings like this. He wanted to make a gesture to show he cared for you. He was just waiting the perfect thing to present itself to him.

He had found what he thought might do the trick. He found a necklace within the chest that the crew had been looking for the past couple of weeks. It was a chain necklace embroidered with jewels and conveniently a j engraved into it. It was like his compass had led him here all along, knowing his heart wanted to give you himself. He snatched it from the chest before anyone else saw and stuffed it into his pocket for safekeeping.

Jack had been going back and forth about giving you the necklace. He couldn’t decide whether it was too big of a gesture or too small of one. He just wanted to show you that he cared about you.

He had called you into his quarters and sat down on his desk. You were left standing in front of him, questioning why he had brought you in here. He stared at the ground before reaching into his pocket. You saw the necklace shimmer in the sunlight from the window behind, it casted spots of sunlight across the room. This made you even more confused. He twirled the necklace in his hands before speaking “this is for you”. He leant his arm out with the necklace in. You took the necklace carefully into your hands, taking every detail of it in. You heart jumped when you saw the j engraved and ran you thumb over it. You looked up to him questioningly, what did this mean? He looked away and said he wanted to show his fondness for you (jacks code word for something along the lines of love you guessed). You walked over to him and asked him to put it on for you. As he clasped his initial round your neck you didn’t feel owned by Jack, you felt he knew you. This necklace was the silent acknowledgement that you both liked one another and wanted more. It was a silent agreement that you were each others and no one else’s.

Thank you for reading! And again if anyone wants a fluffier version I have a good idea for it!!

[angstywaifu]

I Just Want To Talk To Them - Garrick Tavis x Reader

Prompt - “Who did this to you? I just want to talk to them” @fw-gt A/N: This is for the Garrick girls who love the cocky flirty side of him. Enjoy. Masterlist

I winced as the healer prodded around my now very broken nose. Cleaning up what she could of the blood that had run down my face. Which was a lot. The mender had fixed most of the damage, but had to use their abilities on other cadets. Meaning I still had some bruising and tenderness where I had taken the full force of an elbow to the face during a challenge.

It had been a stupid mistake. One I knew Garrick and Xaden would lecture me about later. I had dropped my guard and my opponent had seen it. I had lost the challenge because of it. My first one this year. Wrecking my streak of going undefeated for two years. So close to a perfect three year streak. Luckily neither had been at challenges to see what had happened. But there was no way I could hide what had happened. One cause my nose had been broken and couldn’t be fully healed. Two it would be the talk of the quadrant.

“Use this a few times a day, should clear up the bruising and tenderness in no time. If you have any trouble breathing or any issues just come back.” She says with a smile as she holds the healing balm out to me.

I nod a thanks and take it from her hands before pushing off the bed. I was half expecting Garrick or Xaden to be waiting for me as I leave. But I don’t see them anywhere. Meaning they hadn’t heard yet. Or they were waiting for me somewhere. Due to the last class of the day still being on the corridors are quiet. Meaning the bathrooms would be as well. I decide to head there, knowing the healer would have only got some of the blood off my face and clothes. And my suspicions are correct as I stare into the mirror in the bathroom. Most of the blood around my nose and mouth is gone, but the blood that had worked its way down my neck hadn’t been touched. It almost looked like I had bathed in blood if the rest of my skin and clothes weren’t free of blood. That would be a sight to see. I quickly scrub the blood off my neck. I should have gone to my room and grabbed new clothes and showered. But with training with the other marked ones tonight, showering now probably wasn’t my smartest idea. As I leave the bathroom the corridors are filled with people and chatter. The last class of the day clearly done. I quickly rush over to my room, avoiding any stares that might feed any rumours that had started. I open my door, quickly shutting it behind me as I lean up against it, closing my eyes and sighing in relief.

”Who did this to you?” A gruff stern voice says from my desk.

I jump and nearly drop the healing balm in my hands, awkwardly juggling it till I catch it. I look over to meet Garrick’s gaze. Garrick who is leaning back in my desk chair, his feet resting on the desk as he twirls a dagger between his fingers. If it wasn’t for the words that had left his mouth I would find it attractive. And honestly still did. But with the fire and anger in his eyes, a chill runs down my spine. Garrick had clearly heard I had lost my challenge and ended up in the healers quadrant, but not to who. His eyes lower to my neck and uniform where some of the blood still lingers.

”It was just a challenge. It doesn’t matter.” I tell him as I go to walk behind him and place the healing balm on my bedside table.

But Garrick moves with a speed I’ve never seen before as his feet drop from the desk, turning the chair to grab my wrist, pulling me to a stop. Despite him sitting, I feel small under his gaze. His eyes commanding me to give up the information. This was why he was a section leader. He embodied leadership and authority without even trying.

”It. Matters.” He emphasises each word. “Now, who did this to you?”

”Why does it matter?” I say back as sternly as I can.

With the look in his eyes I know if I give up the name it wont end well for them. Even if it was a challenge where the goal was to fight each other and come out the other side the victor. Garrick didn’t care. He had always been protective of me. More so than any other marked cadet.

”I just want to talk to them.” He says with a smile, a smile that showed he did not want to just talk to them.

”We both know that is not what you are going to do.” I tell him before removing my arm from his grip and walking over to my bedside table.

I hear his slight chuckle at my words. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I turn to find him staring at me as I narrow my eyes at him. Garrick does his best attempt at a sweet smile, but with the anger still burning in his eyes contradicts it.

”You do. I can see it in your eyes. You do not want to just talk to them Gar. It was a challenge, they did what they were meant to do.”

”They hurt what I care about most.” He says as he stands, the chair sounding like it sighs in relief. He walks over and stands in front of me, grasping my chin between his fingers, forcing my face to look up at his. “So I will ask again sweet heart before I go find them another way. Who did this to you?”

My mind goes blank. Did… did Garrick just call me sweet heart? Wait. What he cares about most? I must look at him confused, as he smiles and chuckles at me He leans down, placing his mouth next to my ear.

”If you tell me who it is, I may just come back and reward you for it once I’m done talking.”

Before I can even think or register what I’ve done I blurt out the name of the cadet who I had been put up against for challenges. A sinister smirk gracing Garrick’s lips that has my heart fluttering.

”Good girl.” He whisper before kissing my cheek and walking out the door. Part 2

[laylaplease]

Warnings — Angst & Fluff, Professor x Student relationship, reader feels inferior, implied smut, descriptions of sex, inappropriate touching (brief), degrading (brief), reader's jealous, Anakin has anger issues, word 'homicidal' mentioned, neglection, Anakin is slightly aggressive.

Word count — 2.3k

Notes — Another lovely request, loved it! I'm not too good at angst because anything that doesn't involve Anakin being head over heels for the reader makes my heart ache, whoops. Also, REAL sorry if somebody's name's Janette, I love the name but reader calls her a slut.

"Dismissed." Professor Skywalker tosses his glasses aside and leans back in his chair. A delicate frown is present between his eyebrows.

He hadn't looked at you once.

An hour-and-a-half-long lecture and not one stare at you. Not a glance at the outfit you so carefully picked for him; the absence of his touch was already unbearable, but the way he avoided your darting eyes broke your heart. You wanted him to look at you. To look at you the way he does at night.

You look at his hands, slender fingers gripping the chalk; they're supposed to be on you. Gripping your hips to push himself deeper into you, holding your wrists, caressing your waist, and kneading the delicate flesh of your thighs when he pushes them back over his broad shoulders... Why isn't he looking at you?

You stuff your books into your tote, zipping it up with a forceful pull, purposely creating an irritating sound in your last attempts to get his attention. You feel a disappointed twitch in your eyebrow when he remains seated, toying with his pen while staring down at somebody else's essay.

One of the students makes her way towards his desk, slipping him another report while batting her lashes in an attempt to ease his feelings about turning in late. She leans forward, pointing at something while trying to explain herself, a cover up to push her clevage to his eye level. He takes her paper and piles it up with all the other works, nodding at the little tease and sending her off with a comment about how he won't tolerate it ever again. You wonder if his pants get a little bit tighter at the sight of her too.

You leave last. You always do. Despite his obvious uninterest in entertaining your need for his attention, you give him one last chance.

"I'll pick you up at six." He mutters, still not looking at you. 

Your silence obviously disturbs him; you don't greet his preposition with a smile and an eager puppy-like nod like you usually do.

"That's alright with you, darlin'?" He adds with a raspy voice, glancing in your direction.

Your heart sinks and insides flutter when the vibration of his tone reaches your ears. How can he do this to you? How can he pretend like you don't exist and then dare to offer his nighttime company? And yet, you want nothing else but to feel his lips all over your body again, even at the price of your dignity. You find enough self-respect to slam the door in his face.

With 6 p.m. approaching, you find yourself sitting at your vanity mirror and trying to decide if your body's mere worth is some cheap lip gloss and a skimpy dress for your professor to tear off as soon as he parks his black Chevy somewhere secluded enough.

Before you know it, he's outside your house. You watch him get out of his car, flicking the ashes of his cigarette onto the concrete and tossing the butt somewhere in the grass. He adjusts the collar of his shirt and knocks on your door.

You wait. Ten seconds, twenty, half a minute. Your heartbeat increases with each passing blink of time, and you're pretty sure he knows you're doing it on purpose. Eventually, you decide that you won't offer for him to come in. Grabbing your jacket and purse, you make your way out.

"Hi, love." He greets you with a smile, which is entirely different from how he's behaving during lectures. He's welcoming, almost sweet; maybe it's just a silly trick to make you crave his attention, thus allowing him to strip you off your panties quicker.

Anakin leans in to peck your cheek, which you dodge by turning around to lock your doors. He waits for the lock to click in place before wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing himself against your back.

"You're mad. Why?" His lips brush over your clothed shoulder. 

He can feel how your body quivers when you swallow a lump that's been in your throat since 8 a.m. You hate how loving he can be; you hate how he manipulates you with his touch, making you feel like you're more than just a naive student for him. You hate it, and you crave it. His hands are warm on your waist, and you can feel your cheeks getting hotter from the forming tears.

"Darlin'?" He kisses your pulse point gently, waiting for you to speak.

"Let's go." You blink the wetness off your eyelids and head towards his car. Your sides instantly shiver when they aren't shielded by his grip.

Anakin starts the car in silence, giving you an uncomfortable look at how you didn't even allow him to open the door for you. The engine roars to life, and he's about to drive off when he leans across your body.

"Seatbelt, darlin'." He doesn't wait for you to reach for it — he's already buckling you in.

"Why don't you look at me?" You begin speaking when he's out on the road.

"What do you mean, bunny? I am. You look gorgeous. Like every night." His hand leaves the gearstick and finds place on your knee, gently caressing the inside of your thigh. 

"During lectures. You'd rather look at some slut like Janette instead of me." You cut him off, complaining about the unfairness of his actions.  

"And you?" He laughs. Mockingly. "You are not a slut? Spreading your legs whenever I call you." His hand on your thigh glides up to brush against your panties. "But you like it when I call you that, don't you?"

He doesn't take you seriously at all. He is oblivious to the fact that his words claw a gaping hole in your chest, leaving your heart sore and lungs collapsing at the attempts to hold your pains. You push his hand off your core in a disgusted manner and shut your legs close.

"You're seriously mad at me?" He shifts gears, and you feel how the vehicle starts speeding, your body tensing in alertness.

You know he's not going to hurt you, not physically, and yet you can't stop shuddering. Your cheeks heat up once more, and this time there is no strength in you to stop the inevitable.

"I treat you well, don't I? Do you know how you'd be treated if I were somebody else?!" The highway is ending as he's taking a turn towards your usual spot of desire. His tone is increasing with every word.

"Drive me home!" You slap the panel, hysteria in your voice is present as thick tears drop onto your lap.

"You're not going anywhere!" He stops the car on the sidewalk, not making his full way into the forest. That's when he can finally see your mascara-stained cheeks.

Anakin groans at the sight; his fingers curl into fists as he pounds onto the steering wheel. "You're so fucking-" He groans again, trying to stop himself from saying something he'll regret later, and leans to rest his head, sighing deeply.

The car fills with your sobs and sniffles. You sit there, buckled up like a child who's been denied candy, and weep. Anakin lets out a sigh and frees himself from the seatbelt, clicking yours off too.

"Come here."

"No! I'm done doing this; I'm done letting you use me like I'm worthless!" 

He sighs again, rubbing his face aggressively, trying his best to contain his anger and focus on how your whines are hurting his ears and heart.

"It's okay, come here, bunny." He places his hand on the back of your head and pulls you to lean on his shoulder. Pathetically, you wrap your arms around his neck and continue sobbing into his button-up. "There she is; come here." He grabs you by the waist and pulls, guiding you to climb out of your seat and onto his lap.

Unfortunately, his gesture only forces more tears. You rest your head on his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut. He cradles your quivering body to his chest, one arm wrapped around your legs and the other keeping you in place by your back. 

"Silly girl, you've ruined your make up." He wipes your cheeks with his sleeve, black ink staining the cotton. "I'd never force you, you know that? If you don't want to, you don't need to go with me, yeah?" His anger seems to be ceasing, and you wish your despair was too. His attempts to comfort you are bittersweet.

"You said I was the prettiest girl... You always say that; you touch me, you- you... How can you do this? Why don't I matter to you?" Words spill from your mouth; endless thoughts are rushing through your mind, and your tongue is unable to catch up with all of them. And his hands. His hands, his hands, his hands. His hands are holding you, caressing you, wiping away your tears, and it hurts, hurts, hurts so bad you want to tear his perfect face off his skull and drive his stupid Camaro into a lake.

"You are, you are the prettiest girl; you're the perfect girl, bunny, my perfect girl, okay? Of course you matter." He seems to be pretty unaware of your homicidal ideas because he keeps stroking your hair, trying to console you. "Of course you matter; look at me." He cups your cheek and forces you to face him.

"Why won't you look at me?" You manage to form a full sentence, uninterrupted by little sniffles.

"Well because..." He sighs. "You know it's not right. We can't have people know about us." His finger gently brushes a strand of your hair off your cheek. "You're my student. A good one at that; I wouldn't want anybody to think your A's are earned with your pretty little pussy." He chuckles at his crappy attempt to make you laugh.

"So you'd rather hurt me?" Your eyebrows furrow, and anger slowly replaces sadness at how naive he thinks you are. "What could a little glance give away? A little praise? A text message about my pretty clothes when nobody's looking?!" Anakin is getting a taste of his own medicine, feeling the exact same emotions you feel when he shouts at you for being sensitive.

"Well, that's the thing, darlin', somebody is always looking. I don't want to risk it; you have to understand..." He coos at you gently, his lips pressing against your cheeks. "You're such a sweet girl; I can't put you at risk, why don't you get it?" 

You knew that it wasn't just you. He had to protect himself too; he was a well-respected professor, his career was great, he was loved, but... But still. Your little heart couldn't comprehend the fact that your love wasn't enough for him. That he didn't love you a bit more to show some affection that wouldn't involve an orgasm eventually. 

"I just... I just want to feel like I matter..." You sniffle the last tears away; there is disappointment in your voice. You are aware that this relationship is not meant to go anywhere, and you wish he'd deny that. Even if deep down, you both would know it's a lie.

"You do, bunny, of course you do. Do you have any idea how it's hurting me too? To have you crying in my arms..." Anakin cradles you closer to himself. "I just wish you could be happy, sweet girl. I'm sorry I've done this to your heart, I'm sorry for ever laying my hands on you..." He kisses your cheek, trailing up to your temple, and sighs. "I'm so sorry, darlin'..."

You sit there in silence, the headlights of cars passing in the distance casting short flashes of light over you both. The car's getting colder, and Anakin tries his best to embrace you and keep your body warm. 

"Let's get you home, bunny." He caresses the back of your head, touching it so delicately that you'd think you were made of porcelain. "You should get some rest."

Home? No. No, no no no. You don't want to go home. You want to stay. You want to be held, and you need his arms to caress you. You can't go home and rot in self-pity the whole night. You need him. 

But you can't say that; the words are stuck in your throat, and you're pretty sure he wouldn't be able to understand the depth of your feelings. So you cling onto him, your arms squeeze his body impossibly close, as if doing that could close a wound that's open inside of you. 

Anakin chuckles softly. "You don't want to go, do you?" He nuzzles his nose into your cheek and kisses it. "That's okay. I don't want to let go of you either. I just love holding you, precious." 

"Can I stay with you?" You hesitantly whisper in the crook of his neck; his skin shivers under your lips.

"For the night?" He pulls away slightly to gaze into your eyes. Tomorrow's Saturday, and you can seriously see him considering bringing you home. 

"I don't want to be alone." 

He smiles warmly, his hand cups your cheek once again, and gently kisses your lips, lingering for a moment. "I was about to ask you." He smiles and pecks your forehead. You know he's lying, but he couldn't tell you no when your doe eyes stare at him pleadingly and the thought of you crying yourself to sleep stabs his heart.

"Let's go, bunny. Get you a milkshake, mmm? Then I'll cuddle my princess to sleep. I can't bear seeing your little heart ache." He urges you to move off his lap and back into your seat. 

You can swear his hands were trembling ever so slightly when he put the key back into ignition and started the car. Maybe this time he'll love you in a way so the pleasure fills your heart instead.