#“better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all”

[littledes1re]

How to disappear | Chapter: one

Summary: after the passing of your mom, you and your dads best friend get close. You find comfort in him and he does the same because he also once lost something. While a relationship between you two sounds wrong and taboo, your feelings grow stronger. But Joel is an old man, guilt and the fear of losing you too, overwhelms him. So he leaves you.

Warnings: Angst, grief, heartbreak, lots of emotions, (fluff as a flashback), joels alcohol problems, dad that doesn’t care for his daughter, age gap! (23 and 61), crying, kind of depression, smut (as a flashback)

A/N: Okey Okey, I may said next week but I was already done with it so finally it’s here. Some dbf and Oldman!joel angst hehehe. Ngl I kinda hurt myself with this one.

Dear joel,

i‘m still thinking about the first time you kissed me, gentle, careful, caring.

I wish you‘d see how much I love you, how much I love being in your presence, how much I love our midnight talks.

We are both broken, something connected us. You made it a reason to leave me, I made it a reason to call you my soulmate.

I feel heartbreak. I cry myself to sleep, tell me..is that better than us comforting each other and having fun?

I miss our conversations, I miss your smile and your ability to comfort me.

Dad is asking why you are distancing yourself.

I love you, always.

Winter felt like forever.

A never ending cycle of dark and cold days, where the world stays still when snow falls. Lingering loneliness creeping up, as you fall for the hopelessness of it all and allowed the weather to dictate your mood while in the back of your mind the soft touches and whispers swam around of someone you where aching to be revolved around with once again.

Joel Miller.

Your last conversation stuck in your mind like the withering words only an enemy can say to you. Repeating itself over and over till there is only a echo of two words. We can‘t.

But there was no flicker of rejection in his eyes as he touched you, no regret as he cuddled you after his release, no shimmer of a different personality you weren‘t aware of, you knew him long enough. At least you thought so.

The aching in your heart and tummy was one that didn‘t go away no matter how much time had passed. The sadness clinged on you, wrapping tightly around your ribs, making it hard to breathe. It was one that grew each day for the past season, now coming to the point that you feel yourself getting sick from it. Flashes of memories startle you while you want to go on with your day. The glimpse of his brown eyes, landing on your face, soft and gentle the way you always knew him. Faints laughs of you two whenever it’s quiet.

And somehow underneath all of this it remembered you of your mom. The day she passed, the darkness that fell on you, the ability to not think straight as your eyes were hurting from crying. The shock not letting up, moving like a ghost trough life, pretending to function. Time would heal, but it didn’t. Time just showed you how to carry the pain without showing it.

You wanted to be small again, cradled by your mother’s hands, soothed by her voice.

“It feels like time has stopped for you and the people around you don’t care. You somehow have to function, but the person was your sole reason to function.” His eyes were emotionless.

Joel stopped crying after five months. He became a vessel of a man who once showed his kindness through actions and words and now someone who shuts everyone off. Grief is not predictable. It changes, buries itself deep beneath the skin and eats you alive. Joel never asked for comfort. But he gave it to you. He thought he didn’t deserve warmth, he thought he didn’t want to feel joy. But he let you feel all of those things.

The rough patch of his beard tickled your skin as you laid on top of him, nuzzling your face into his neck. The tears were dry on your cheeks, your eyes swollen and red as a headache started to form. His big hands rubbing circles on your back, soothing you to sleep.

“She is watching over you.”

The line that was crossed was blurred. The day you caught feelings was unknown. You just knew that there had been this silent connection between you two right after he decided to knock on your door to check on you.

“How y’doing, kiddo?”

Maybe it was the fact that you didn’t except it from him. Maybe it was the fact that your dad was distant after your mom’s passing. Maybe it was the fact that both of you lost something.

A man you should suddenly avoid because of his alcohol problems; your dad’s sayings. After his daughter’s passing he developed an alcohol problem, something that was clear whenever he was in your house, his eyes hazy, movements too unsteady. Your heart ached for him, never understanding how people do that to themselves. But after your mom, you did. His actions spoke louder than his words. He still helped your father around the house, with his job, with other things. He was there ,only his emotions were completely submerged, a veil placed over them so no one could recognize his true feelings.

That night, changed it all. He calmed your nerves, gave you the comfort you’ve been aching for the past eight months, and after that he finally let you in his heart. Told you what he was feeling. Guilt, anxiety and anger. His lips were quivering, eyes dark and swollen. Jaw clenched, as if he was trying to bite back the sob clawing up his throat. His breath shaky.

“I should’ve been there.” The only thing that he would murmur and then silence. A rather comfortable and understanding one. You don’t say anything, you just watch. Seeing the same emotions going through him as the day you lost your mom. His eyes would finally lift, and they would shine but not with kindness but with anger and sorrow. You could see it.

“An-and I feel selfish. For now coming in here and telling you this while you also lost someone.”

“Hey, hey. No.” Your hand gently lands on his shoulder, slowly moving to his hair caressing through his curls, while looking at him. His eyes softened, suddenly filling full of worry, bottom lip pouting. Looking at you like a kicked puppy. You felt tears leaving your eyes, landing on your thighs, you wanted to hug him. You knew how he was feeling. You also wanted to give him comfort.

“Don’t even think like that. You’re not selfish for speaking it out. You’re human, joel.”

He tilts his head slightly, you doing the same. A flicker of something knowing passing through your gaze.

“And if you really think thats selfish, then i’m selfish too. For wanting to hear it. You should’t carry it alone.”

For the first time, joel let’s go of the breath he has been holding for a long time. It doesn’t fix anything— but in this quiet moment, something shifts.

A piece of his sorrow, no longer carried alone.

He came over more often. Opened your door, sneaked in your bed and cuddled you, whenever your father was at home, you went to his place. He didn’t care anyway. You two had small road trips, where he drove you to his favourite places, music in the background, your head out of the window, enjoying it. It felt safe, it felt right.

Every worry in your head disappearing when he put your head on his chest. Soft humming and fingertips caressing the skin. Your conversations were not only about loss. They were flowing easily, they were funny.

“This thing is gonna give me a heart attack one day, I swear.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, trying to find the right buttons to put it on silent.

“Ain’t working like that, wait—you have a nokia? Where the hell is your phone?” You asked widened eyes, after you snatched his supposed phone out of his hands.

He snatched it back, eyebrows furrowing.

“What about it? Tommy bought me one because they are easy to use.”

“No, no. S’nice.” You tried to suppress a giggle. And as you swallowed you looked around his house, he looked at you with a grumpy expression.

“What? I can’t keep up with your new generation shit.”

“Oh I bet, I bet. I just find it funny.” You finally giggled, laying back down on his couch, holding your tummy.

“Y’know what’s real funny? You don’t even know half of these movies that I showed you.”

You gasped, sitting up again. His face all smug, a smirk on his lips.

“What? They are cult classics c’mon now—“

“Yeah, for old people.” You rolled your eyes playfully, seeing his face all serious now.

Giggling, you stood up as he abruptly did so too, stretched out his arms to reach for you.

And you knew what that meant. You laughed just more, running around his coffee table and he followed you, trying to grab you. And suddenly he did, throwing you gently on the couch and began tickling you.

“J-joel” you couldn’t breathe from the laughter.

You thought your dad would comfort you and be there for you after what happened, you didn’t think it was going to be joel. But your dad locked himself up, ignoring his dad duties. Leaving you alone, not showing his emotions, not letting you show yours. His demeanour was cold, distant it felt like living with a stranger. You understood why. You understood that he also lost someone, but he never once asked how you are, never once opened the topic of Mom again. Deleted it from his life like it never existed. And while doing that he also deleted you slowly.

Your friends stopped texting, one didn’t know how to comfort you. The other one was acting like it wasn’t a big deal. So you also deleted that topic from them, from your father. Joel was the only one who heard you talking about your mom.

And then he left you. So now, you were completely alone.

But maybe you didn’t really love him. Maybe you just loved his comforting. Maybe you just needed someone and he was there. Would you love a man forty years older than you if your father acted like a father? The way he looked at you, worshipped you, made you feel good. Made you feel special. Took care of you. Something connected you two. Wasn’t those signs of love?

“Hurting?”

“No, think i’m good.” You whispered to him. The stretch was unusual, nothing that you haven’t had before but it felt different. It was with joel.

“S’good, real good.” He nodded his head to you. Under the covers, vulnerable, you two were naked. There were goosebumps all over your skin, and his too. Joel lets you adjust on his shaft, worried eyes scanning your face to see if you show any sign of discomfort.

The atmosphere in the room was calm, lights dimmed and if felt comfortable. The first time you really made out with him and laid your hands on his bulge he stopped you. “Wanna do it right.” He took his time, kissing every inch of your body, teasing you, loving on you. Calling you his pretty girl. Making your eyes almost tear up of how much love he was giving you.

He was extra careful as he started to thrust into you, little breaths leaving his mouth, your hands gripping his biceps. A little moan leaving your lips, feeling the pleasure in your belly slowly fill.

His gaze never left you, he noticed it all. The smile you give him, cheeks flushed, trying to breath right and suppress a loud moan. The way he handled you with gentle hands cupping your cheek, kissing your forehead.

“Joel—please.” A coo leaving his mouth, speeding his thrusts into you.

Joel would bite back a groan, his thrusts sometimes sloppy, sometimes losing the rhythm because it’s been so long. But you didn’t care. You loved feeling him all, you loved being with him.

And when he came his face would twist, you would gently touch his face. He would bury himself into you on last time and then hide into your neck, leaving wet kisses while catching his breath. While you didn’t come, you were still content and satisfied to have him on top of you. But of course he realised it and ate you out for one hour, taking his time, giving you the best orgasms of your life.

You never got an answer from the letter. You never got an answer on your countless texts and calls. He cut you out. And you were trying your best to be angry, you really were. But deep down, the sense of understanding was spreading. You knew how much trouble you two would be going through if your father or anyone in your family found out. Anyone in his family too.

The age gap would let everyone turn their heads in the streets.

Your friends, colleagues everyone would think he is a weirdo. That you are a weirdo.

But then you ask yourself why?

Why did he let you develop these feeling for him? Why did he give you a reason to think that he was in love with you? Why did he comfort you? why did he give you this feeling that everything is going to be fine? Why did he make you believe that there was a connection between you two?

A knock pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Can you help me set the table? Joel is also coming—oh and his girlfriend too, apparently.”

AAA this took so long, but i’m actually proud of this. Please if you see mistakes or want to give feedback, feel free to do so.

Thank you so so much for 900 followers, it’s truly unbelievable.🥹🥹

My Masterlist!!!

Taglist:

@vickie5446 @a-goose-on-mars @thatgirlmendo @ihearttdilfs @pickyeater13 @sweetiegirl16 @keseqna @shivispunk @kyloispunk @meetmeatyourworst @joelmillerswife9 @iveseenstrangerthings50 @idrkman @vanishintoyoubby @dlwrish @cuntyhunty22 @glitterspark @tikikiki @millerdilfs @lovelystrawberrysblog @millersdoll @mani-pedro @simp4pedro @angelic1angel @hazzzy418 @valitagun @throttlepascal @speaktothehandpeasants @mystickittytaco @whatwouldsookiedo @sage-babydoll @umadirectioner @neobangverse @stvrl1ghtt123 @midnightmischief10 @ccmoonshine @dendulinka6

[heeseungsbm]

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐟. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ‪‪ꫂ ၴႅၴ‬་༘ ₜₑₐₛₑᵣ

𝘭𝘦𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘶𝘯𝘨

❥ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 : surprises. heeseung always had them up his sleeve. but this? this was something different—something he clearly fantasized about behind your back. he knew how tense you got over school. thought about it often, wished to ease it himself. you clearly needed relief, and he'd always been good at relieving stress. tonight, all you had to do was play along, and do what his little gift told you to. (๑>؂•̀

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆❥ : idol bf!heeseung x ♀college student reader

❥ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: smut with plot

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒♡: voyeurism, solo/mutual masturbation, explicit filthy nasty pornographic phone sex, usage of sex toys, squirting, overstimulation, ♂&♀orgasms, erm let me not spoil too much

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧! 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚��𝐝𝐞𝐝♡

nothing makes you cry faster.

the equations, the formulas, the unnecessary mixing of letters with numbers. because seriously, who the fuck's idea was this? your memory span of a goldfish didn't make it any better.

so, why did you major in chemistry? good question.

... no answer.

your knee bounced as you hunched over at your bedroom desk, having a staring contest with the paper below you. one you were losing terribly.

time for bed.

you peeled the moisturizing sheet mask off of your face, sighing as you tossed it in the mini trash to your left. somehow, standing up felt like sipping an overly carbonated sprite —sharp and chaotic, you nearly fell over feeling the sleep in your legs, a sting in your butt from sitting so long.

but, at least you were home. and even better, home alone for the entire week. your parents were away for their anniversary.

dorming was never a thought going into college. and frankly, you'd eat a jean jacket before doing so. you loved your room. the peace and quiet, your own space and privacy. all the little things in it that reflected your mind.

plus, you can't exactly flick the bean with a roommate always around.

unless you're both, like... really horny lesbians.

ask anyone. chem homework will put you to sleep faster than melatonin, you knew to pamper up before your study session. showered and shaved, dressed in silk sleepwear, your hair pulled back by a plush spa headband. you were all set for a long awaited good night's rest.

you began tidying up on your desk, neatly stacking textbooks, stuffing your papers back in their folders, squeezing highlighters and pens back into their pouch. but few items remained, and they made your busy hands become still.

a half-eaten bar of korean chocolate, van cleef bracelets still in their boxes, a glass vase of pink and white lego flowers next to your new macbook.

heeseung's valentine's day gifts.

there were more that'd been camping in your room for a while, untouched and neglected, still wrapped in their pink ribbons. the pressure of upcoming finals was swallowing you whole, and somewhere in the blur of all-nighters and deadlines, you completely forgot you had a boyfriend 5,000 miles away.

you wondered what heeseung was up to. maybe asleep, whatever time it was in korea. and if not, on his 4th pack of nongshim.

you couldn't help but smile, picking up the vase and admiring the toy bouquet, all of its complex miniature pieces. cherry blossoms and lotuses—your favorite flowers. your boyfriend was so thoughtful.

so sweet.

you thought back to the sweetness of his cherry chapstick. the warmth of his skilled tongue, the way it swirled in your mouth and all the other places that 14th of february.

heeseung was the best kisser, god did it make you so wet. it was so easy to get lost in him, to kiss and kiss until your head spun—until you were dazed and dizzy, drunk off the taste of his lips.

he liked to take his time with you. to tease, to savor the heat of the moment until you whimpered and begged for more.

you didn't realize how much you missed it until now.

he was yours in real life, not some parasocial fairytale that his fans dwelled in. it ate you alive— not being able to show and tell, and it was bittersweet how little you got to see him. heeseung always found small ways to show that he cared, to show how much he missed you, and you clung to them tight. but the space between visits still stung.

you tried not to think about it as much. it was almost like a trauma response—purposely keeping yourself busy so you didn't drown in the heartache. deep down inside, you really missed him.

you set the vase down, turning your head to all the gift bags and boxes by your bedroom door. a wave of guilt crept into your stomach.

you didn't have to open them to know that heeseung put his unwavering love for you into each and every one. he'd probably been waiting to hear what you thought, to hear a thank you. you were curious as to why he hasn't asked, how the two of you had been talking without a mention of them.

it almost felt like there was a reason for his silence. like there was something you had to do first, something you were supposed to uncover on your own.

you tip-toed over quietly, picking up the topmost box. it was noticeably smaller than the others—about the size of a shoebox, but heavier than it looked. you chuckled at the rushed cursive of your name in the corner of the matte white paper.

with a gentle plop onto your bed, you pulled the box into your lap. it was cutely tied with a perfect bow, just like all the others. so heeseung—his little attempts to make all things girly just the way you liked them.

you untied it, and slowly tore apart its wrapping. the top lifted off easily, revealing layers of crinkled pink tissue paper.

you removed them.

and when you did, your breath had never caught so hard in your throat at what lay beneath. like air had been yanked clean out of your lungs.

whatever you'd expected, it wasn't this.

clear and glossy, the most bright neon pink.

a fake penis.

a dildo.

this had to be some fucking joke.

you'd never used a sex toy before, nor had heeseung ever brought up the idea. it wasn't like you were completely closed off to the thought, it just seemed unnecessary. with the stress of work and school, there wasn't a horny bone in your body by the end of the night. not a spare second for you to crave anything other than sleep.

you picked up the dildo, eyebrows furrowed as you tried to make sense of it.

a chronic masturbater would've loved it. gummy-like to the feel, textured with scarily realistic veins. even the balls looked real.

it was so... big. and heavy.

you had to admit, it was a nice looking dick. but what made your stomach whirl the most —it was oddly similar to heeseung's length and girth, almost like he'd gotten it made custom to replicate himself. your two hands barely fit around it as you analyzed it in your grip.

you looked around your room—as if someone could've been watching—and quickly tucked it back safe, covering it with tissue. but when you did a double take into the box, there was more.

there it was. delicate, deceiving in its soft appearance.

another toy. a rose toy.

you'd heard about this one before, just never felt the urge to try it out yourself.

well... until now.

maybe it was just the curiosity, but excitement began to flicker within you. you picked it up, studying its petal-like designs. it was portable, and pretty. girls seemed to adore this rose—how it made them see stars, left their legs shaking like never before, how it sucked so much better than a man.

but it seemed impossible. no way could it beat your man.

not with the mouth he has.

you were still trying to make sense of of heeseung's intentions. because... why? it wasn't like you'd asked for these, or ever complained about the lack of sex. if anything, waiting for him only made it better, more intense, more worth it.

what on gods green earth was he thinking?

and just when you thought the surprise was over, you spotted it. tucked beneath a final layer of tissue at the very bottom of the box was a single folded piece of paper. two words screamed at you on the front: read me.

your fingers hesitated, almost shy. your heart raced with anticipation as you opened it.

your eyes skimmed over what was obviously heeseung's handwriting, except this time it was small and neat, more thoughtful in pink ink.

𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘮𝘦 ᥫ᭡

𝘐 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴. 𝘜𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘸. 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦. 𝘚𝘰𝘢𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘴. 𝘞𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘵. 𝘜𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰, 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘧, 𝘴𝘰 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘪𝘵. 𝘎𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭, 𝘴𝘰 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘪𝘵. 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐'𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

𝘏𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 ꨄ

𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘏𝘦𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘶𝘯𝘨 ༝༚༝༚

omg sorry guys let me clarify this is a teaser so that i actually drop im working on the full fic😭this has been a draft for 2 weeks jeball and its not letting my tag my permanent taglist either sorry bury me alive

[strangunddurm]

devastationem

Pairing: Michael Robinavich x fem!reader

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: PinV sex, unprotected sex, fingering, masturbation, swearing, dirty talk, oral! fem receiving, established relationship, age gap (everyone 18+!), angst.

Summary: Your love for Michael ran deep and you thought he loved you. But there was something he never could share with you, and you always wondered why?

A/N: Don't know wtf this is but okay. Also, sex in hospital!

Devastation (n.) - Originates from Medieval Latin devastationem, meaning "ravage, act of devastating; state of being devastated."

Love was your punishment.

You loved him. You had loved him before you really knew what love was; that thing that was tethered in the slim boarder between obsession and adoration. A simple look upon his face was enough for that heart wrenching feeling to start to spread inside of you. It took over like a disease; a virus spreading through your body, infecting you.

You would never be the same as you were before him. It would be impossible. He changed you in ways that you wouldn’t even notice until years later when you looked back upon life. You would never regret it, though. You weren’t ashamed to say that Michael Robinavich was the best thing that had ever happened to you.

Michael was revered. He was the man that all others wished to be. There was not a single thing wrong with him. He was perfect. It wasn’t his fault that you weren’t perfect enough for him. You tried in every way to please him, to make him happy, but you thought it was never enough. You would always end up saying the wrong thing and the brief flicker of perceived disappointment in his eyes as he looked down upon you was devastating. He would always try to hide it but you knew that doubt lingered in his mind over being with you.

Devastation. You loved him so much that it filled you with dread and devastation. Dread because you knew that he could make you do anything. Devastation because you knew that it would all end. One day, whether it was a day or a year or a decade down the line. Death, divorce, desertion. He would leave you and you would be no more.

He didn’t know that though. Not yet. He was blissfully oblivious to the hold he had over you. You wanted to tell him you loved him so much it hurt you. But it was so easy to get lost in his eyes whenever you saw him and courage ran out of you like water as you struggled to find the right words.

You thought him to be intimidating. Intimidating in the way that he looked at you. It wasn’t a mean look. Never mean, just… intimidating. Like he knew you better than you knew yourself. Like he had figured you all out before you’d even opened your mouth and said your first ‘hello’.

The first time you had met Michael Robinavich, you had just taken your first unsure step into adulthood. He was old enough to know better. To not lean into your advances. He entertained you for a brief, brief moment, smiling politely as you flaunted yourself infront of him. He had been kind and cordially, greeting you briefly as your friend introduced you. You weren’t meant to be there that night, having stopped by her house on your way home, having just finished your third year of college. You stayed longer than you should’ve, touched his arm for moments that lingered far longer to be accidental, laughed to hard at any attempt at a joke as he gazed down at you.

You thought you were special. That that look was somehow reserved only for you despite having only shared moments of an evening together. You didn’t know that it was just how he was, how he looked at everybody. He looked at people as if they mattered, as if it was just him and them left on the entire planet. The crows feet around his eyes made him gentler, kinder. It would be too late when you finally figured that out. You would already be so helplessly infatuated with every fiber of his being that it wouldn’t matter. It wouldn’t matter that you weren’t special, not in the way you thought you were, at least. But you didn’t need to be special. You just needed him to want you. In any capacity.

You kissed him outside of the grocery store a year later. You had seen him wandering the aisles on a Wednesday night after you’d finally moved back to town permanently. You hadn’t planned for it. Didn’t know that he was living in the same neighbourhood as you. Your parents had bought an apartment you would never be able to afford on your own as a graduation present you were too embarrassed to tell anybody about. You wondered when you told him about it, months later, if perhaps he thought you immature. Unable to fend for yourself even in the smallest capacity. Maybe that is what created that hesitation in him. Perhaps that is what made it all worse. It would’ve been easier if you weren’t you.

It was the way he was so kind to you once again. Striking up a conversation, telling you about his long shift and empty fridge. You joked about how he could come over for a meal anytime he wants after a shift if he wants to and his quiet chuckle maybe your face heat. Michael didn’t accept your invitation but he didn’t decline it. It filled you with hope.

You had to stand on the very tip of your toes to place a light kiss against his lips. It was mortifying. An impulse that took over you, that you acted upon without a second of consideration because you were desperate. You needed to feel his skin against yours. His lips upon your lips. It had been all you could think about over the last year. A short night spent playing nice had fuelled more than 365 days of fantasies about his hips pressed against your, his voice heavy in your ear, and imagining the way his tongue would feel as he swiped it up, running it over your most sensitive spot in a way that would make your toes curl and eyes roll. Driven utterly insane by your own mind.

Michael hadn’t let it last long, softly prying your arms from around his neck and you had, in a panic, blamed your ill lapse in judgement on the rush of adrenaline. As much adrenaline a shopping trip at 9P P.M. at night could give you.

You hadn’t seen him for a while after that. You avoided going out around the neighbourhood unless it was completely necessary. You knew he was a doctor of some sort, so he was probably more busy than you would ever be but you didn’t want to risk it.

When you saw him again, you were still too young, still naive, still hopelessly entrance by him, even though a few years had passed. He hadn’t smiled when his eyes locked with yours but he didn’t look away either. Instead, he looked at you as if he remember you fondly in some way. As that naive, young little girl that was too stupid to let a simple crush be just a crush that was never acted upon. As if it brought him enjoyment, you were a story he could laugh over with his friends.

You didn’t talk to him first time, didn’t dare approach him as you done the others. He came to you.

“Can I still come over for dinner?” He asked with a smile and your eyes went wide.

“Dinner?”

“Last time I saw you, you said that I could come over for dinner anytime.”

“You want to come over for dinner?”

“Sure.” The beginning of your end. You wouldn’t be a person after Michael. Not in the sense you had been before. You would belong to him; your mind, your soul, your entire being existed solely for him after that. And you liked it. You had accepted it easily. It was nice to have something to live for.

Love was your punishment for you would never feel true happiness. There would always be insecurities lingering at the corners, doubt permeating any sense of security.

You had moved in with Michael after three years together. Not because he had suggested it, it just happened, after a long eventuality of dinners, late nights, and eventually early mornings.

You were happy. Content in the bliss of simple domesticity that encased you. You were entwined together. But there was a place where you ended and Michael started. The Pitt. Michael didn’t like to talk about his job, not in the way you did. His recanting of days were never specific. Never offered too much detail. He kept you and that part of his life separate and it tore at you. Made you feel like an insignificant part of his life that wasn’t worthy of knowing. You wanted to know. Yearned for it.

Perhaps that is what made you stand there, in front of the ambulance bay of PTMC’s E.R. department. You had been standing there for 10 minutes, staring ahead at the swing doors that were calling out to you but you hadn’t dared move yet. You didn’t know if you should do this, if you wanted to do this. To encroach on his grounds, were he was king felt unjust but just all at once. You deserved this. You deserved to be a part of his life. To know.

It was a calm, organised chaos when you walked through the doors. You assumed it wasn’t a busy day, but not quiet enough for complete stillness.

You didn’t recognise anybody there. The faces of Michael’s colleagues were completely foreign to you, recognising them only because of their scrubs.

You stood there, scanning the crowd when you finally spotted the back of his head looming above the rest. You walked briskly toward him, on a war path, headed toward a war the other party didn’t know they were a part of.

“Michael.” You almost let out a slight giggle over the bewildered look on Michael’s face as he spun around, mid sentence, to look at you. “Am I interrupting?” You raised an eyebrow with a smile.

“Why are you here?” Michael bit out.

“No ‘hello’?”

“Are you hurt?”

“No, I just wanted to see you.” You smiled again, sickly sweet as you looked around him at the blond woman he has previously been talking to. “Hi!”

“Hello?”

You were just about to reach your hand out and introduce yourself when Michael grabbed a hold of your arm, stopping you in your tracks.

“Dana, I’m taking my break.”

“Break? Robby, since when do we have breaks? I-”

“Fifteen minutes.” Michael cut her off as he hauled you along, practically dragging you as he made his way into a quite hallway and into an abandoned office, the door slamming shut behind you.

“What are you doing here?” Michael hissed lowly, still gripping your arm.

“I just wanted to say hi.” You said innocently.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“And why not?”

Michael sighed, running both of his hands through his hair as he looked at the ground.

“I matter. I deserve to know. To be here.” Your voice broke slightly, repeating the mantra that always echoed in your head. You matter, your matter, you matter.

“This is where I work.”

“Obviously.”

“You can’t be here.”

“And why not? You never tell me anything about your job, about the people that you work with! Why can’t you bring yourself to tell me about the place you spend 60 hours a week?”

“I-”

“Why don’t I deserve to know?” You whispered, looking up at him with hurt swimming in your eyes.

“It’s not about deserving. It’s just… complicated.”

“What’s so complicated? Don’t you love me?”

“Stop it.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want this. I don’t want you and this shitty, shitty place to be connected in any way.”

“And why not? What’s so wrong with me?”

“Stop pitying yourself. Everything is not about you.”

“It’s obviously about me since you have to hide me from this whole world of yours.” You threw your hands out in exasperation.

“I can’t take this, not today. You shouldn’t have come here.” Michael said the words with finality, not wanting you to keep talking back to him. Not now, not here.

“Fuck! I’m sorry, okay? But can’t you see I’m fucking dying here?” You started to raise your voice. “I just feel like an insignificant spec in your fucking life because you can’t tell me more than whether it was a good or bad day at work? I mean, what the hell, Michael? This isn’t normal. This isn’t what two people in a relationship should be doing. What makes it so hard for you to tell me about your life? Do you-”

“I just don’t want the shit here to become shit at home, too!” You paused as Michael yelled the words back at you. “It’s just… too much sometimes. And I thought if I could just… keep you away from here for once then maybe this would last, because I want this to work. I really want this to work. And nothing has worked before. It always ends. Always. In a shitty way, because of this shitty place that I just can’t-”

“Oh…” You didn’t know what to say, biting your lip as you looked around the small broom closet. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I should’ve… told you- how I felt.”

“Yeah, you should’ve.”

“I love being a doctor. I love my job. It’s my purpose, but it’s just so fucking hard sometimes and I… couldn’t let this ruin us. Not us. Everything else but us.” Michael raised his hands to cup your face, letting his thumbs run across your cheeks.

“I love you, kid. You know that, right?” He looked deep in your eyes as he said those words. You had always loved Michael’s eyes. They were comforting in a way you had never experienced. Looking into them you felt at home. Safe.

“Hey, you know that right?” You nodded. Of course, you nodded because all you had ever believed was that Michael would love you. Did love you.

“I love you, too.”

“Yeah? Good.”

You motioned to your chest, a two curled fingers running down your sternum.

“Love you too much.”

“Don’t think that’s a thing, sweet girl.” He pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek.

“Yes, it hurts. Sometimes.”

“In your chest?” He looked down at you with amusement as you pressed your face into his chest, nodding in admittance.

“Hurts there for me, too, sometimes.” Michael chuckled as he embraced you tighter. “Aren’t we a bunch of fools?”

“You are. You’re a cranky old man that can’t just tell the person he lives with how he feels.” You mumbled into his shirt and Michael laughed again over your words.

“Guess I better work on that.”

“You better.” You hugged him tighter before letting go so you could reach up to kiss him. It was a special kiss. A kiss that spoke more than words could, filled with emotions you couldn’t always quite put your finger on.

Michael kissed you back with just as much passion, peppering a rapid succession of kisses to your lips. Eventually, teeth were almost clashing as both of your hunger grew. You needed to feel close to him, as close as a person could be with anther. You needed to feel him between your legs or you felt like you would die if you were to go without it. Here lies the body of you, whose desire drove you to your early demise; death by lust, forever cursed to feel the pulsing ache between your legs and crave the touch of another, never to be satisfied again by your own.

But you weren’t there yet. Salvation would be delivered onto you this day. Michael was frantic in his movement as he pushed up your shirt so that your breasts became bare for him. He didn’t wait, not even taking a second to admire them, before he let his lips attach themselves to your nipple. He sucked it into his mouth, running his tongue over your stiff peak, earning himself a moan from your mouth.

There was a need in Michael that he had only ever felt with you. You didn’t know it but he had craved your touch for years before he felt it. So he had earned this. Had earned your love. He always had a craving for you, needing to feel you in every way he could. He couldn’t hold back as his hands explored everything that they could. He needed to make it right, to let you feel his love.

Michael’s hand had travelled up along your legs to the apex of your thigh. He made contact with the delicate string of your thong and you gasped into his mouth as he tugged it down your legs so that he could run his fingers over your pussy. You were so wet for him, completely having drenched his fingers in all that was you.

He worked you open slowly, slipping one finger inside of you gently. You clenched around him, becoming even tighter than what you already were.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” Michael groaned out into your ear as his lips travelled up and down your neck.

It didn’t take him long before he slipped another finger into you and you couldn’t help the moan that slipped out. He stretched you out slowly, making sure you would be ready to take him. All of him.

“Shh…” Michael hushed you, placing his free hand over your mouth in an attempt to quiet you. Your breath came out in short pants against his palm as you tried to control yourself.

Michael curled his two fingers in a come hither motion, stroking your silky walls to bring you closer to the pleasure you craved so much.

“Gotta be quick, sweetheart, but let me taste you.”

Michael dropped to his knees before you, urging you to take a seat on top of the desk behind you, causing some paperwork to fall to the floor, before parting your legs even more so that his shoulders could fit between them. He held your skirt up, bunching it around your hips with his eager hands before digging his fingers into your thighs, hauling one of them onto his shoulder, and connecting his mouth to your sweet cunt.

The quiet sounds of your breathless moans was intoxicating as he suckled your clit into his mouth before flicking his tongue over the stiff nubb.

Your knees fought against his shoulders as your hand came to cover your mouth, willing any sounds to stay inside of you as you bit down softly in an attempt to control yourself.

You fought to keep your eyes open as your hips moved up and down in a desperate attempt to grind your aching clit against his mouth and nose in search for that perfect sensation that would drive you over the edge.

Your hand slid into Michael’s hair, gliding through it before grasping a firm hold of it as a wave of pleasure ran its course through your body.

Michael had already made you come once when he slid his fingers into you, continuing his ministrations on your clit with his mouth. His movement were much rougher than what they had been before, thrusting them into you expertely, hitting that sweet spot of yours that he knew so well over and over again.

Your back arched into the air and mouth fell open at the overstimulation. It was excuisite.

“Oh, oh, Michael. I’m gonna cum.” You whispered desperately. “Oh, God.”

You clung to his arm in an attempt to hold on to any sort of sanity but it was all for nought. Both of your hands flew to your mouth as your whole body started to shake.

Michael tried to hold you as still as he could but never let up as he flicked the tip of his tongue over your clit again and again and again. He worked you through your orgasm, never relenting as your silent whimpers spurred him on. You had such a tight hold on his hair that it made him groan, sending a wave of vibrations through you that caused you to gasp. He only stopped once your whimpers had grown in volume to a steady whine of pleas.

“You’re such a good girl.” Michael praised as he came up, pressing a bruising kiss to your lips. “You gonna let me fuck you, sweetheart?”

“Yes! Please, Michael.”

Michael took a step back so that he could unbuckle his cargo pants, popping the button open before pushing them down his hips enough to let his stiff cock slap up against his taught stomach, balls hanging heavily. He spread the wetness of you that still coated his fingers over the head of his cock, giving himself a couple of pumps in preparation.

“How badly do you want this?” It might as well have been a rhetorical question for Michael knew the answer to that question very well. But he wanted to hear you say it. He wanted to hear your pleas as you begged him to fuck you full of himself. He wanted you to whine for his cum, to drive you so insane that you would begin to speak in tongues as the tip of him would repeatedly rub against that sweet spot inside of you.

“So badly,” You were practically breathless; completely lost just from the sight of him that you would never ever get enough of. Michael loved to see you like this, so disheveled, so fuckable.

“Tell me how badly you want it.” He breathed out the command.

“I need you to fuck me, Michael, I need you to full me up, please…” Your tongue ran over your lips over the sight of precum leaking from his tip, remembering how he tastes.

Michael stepped closer, caressing your jaw as he continued pumping his dick. Michael pressed a sloppy kiss to your before the head of his cock teased your entrance, gliding through it to coat itself in your wetness before slowly beginning to stretc you inch by inch. His dick was to thick and long that you wondered if you could even take it all. The slow drive of his hips into you was driving you wild until, finally, Michael’s hips met yours as he bottomed out and the tip of him was nestled snugly against your cervix.

Michael stopped for a moment to let you acclimate, but only for a moment as he could not bear any more. He drew himself out all the way until only his tip was inside of you. You were desperate to feel all of him inside of you again so you wrapped your leg around his waist, urging him to push forward back into you and fill the emptiness that his dick left behind. Michael grinned and sank into you again.

“Shit!” You cried as Michael drove the air from your lungs as he pounded into you. He never stopped or slowed down, continuously pulling almost all the way out and driving back into you again and again in a steady rhythm. Michael admired you as your eyes fluttered close, tits bouncing with every thrust. Your pussy pulsed and trembled around his thick girth, pulling him in deeper and deeper.

He grabbed your hips tightly, sure to be felt the next day, before continuing to pound into you in earnest. The desk rustled with every rut of Michael’s hips. As much as you tried to stay quiet, moans were slipping out of you and Michael attempted to silence them by kissing you. You let him swipe his tongue along the inside of your lips , swallowing your sounds before they rang through the air.

Michael drove into you harder and faster, unable to control himself from plunging deeper into you. You felt too good, too hard to resist. He should know better but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck,” The words tumbled out of your mouth and Michael could feel you coming closer and closer to your end as your walls tightened around him. And just when you thought that you were about to cum, Michael pulled out of you, leaving you whining for him.

Michael guided you up from the desk, turning you around and forcing your front against the desk. He let his hands slide over your ass, spreading you open for him so that he could admire you. You were glistening, folds completely soaked and puffy.

“Please, Michael.” You pleaded, needing him.

“So greedy, honey.” Michael tutted before sliding back into your pussy so effortlessly.

Michael fucked you with slow, deep strokes to begin with, relishing every little squeak and whimper that made their way past your lips as he made you feel so good. He put his hand around your neck, forcing your upper body back so that he could tilt your head up. He wanted to see you as he pounded into you. He wanted to watch as your face twisted in those throes of passion.

“You like that?” Michael chuckled as he saw your eyes almost roll into the back of your head as he hit that soft, spungy part inside of you.

“You fuck me so good.” You babbled.

His hips picked up the pace, cock beginning to hammer into you, his balls swinging, slapping your clit. Your fingers dug into the desk bellow you, releshing in the pain as your hips were driven into the wood repeatedly.

“I’m gonna fuck you so full, fill you up until your dripping with me.” Dirty words tumbled through Michael’s lips, praising you and the way you felt.

“You gonna cum for me?” It was so quiet that you barely heard it. “You gonna gush all around my dick, honey?” One of Michael’s hand came forward to rub quick, tiny circles at your bundle of nerves.

Your legs tremble as you cum, back arching and toes curling in pleasure. The way you grew tighter around him made him hiss as he forced himself in again and again, chasing his own release. White, hot, searing pleasure runs through him as he finally cums, emptying himself deep inside of you, his jaw clenching and neck straining as he bucked into you. Michael groaned, making sure to pump himself completely empty, making sure you would always feel his love, deep inside of you.

Michael didn’t care that you so clearly looked like you had just been fucked, practically staggering your way out of the E.R. as quickly as you could whilst his colleague's shared quiet laughs. He didn’t care that Gloria would most likely catch wind of it and hand his ass to him. He didn’t care because he loved you. Devastatingly so. Love was his salvation.

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

Love Abbot with all my heart but i’m feining for more robby 😭❤️ i wanna request a hurt/comfort fic where reader lashes out at robby because she’s having a rough day or was dealing with a case that was kinda personal to her? Or maybe they have a really bad argument at work? Thank you 🥺✨

Black Scrubs, Red Lines | Pairing: Dr. Robby x Physician!Reader

The hospital lights never turn off. They just dim slightly, like the building itself is trying to fall asleep but keeps remembering someone might code at any moment.

You're still in your scrubs. Still covered in dried blood and sweat and the acidic sting of failure. The girl couldn’t have been older than sixteen. OD. Fentanyl, maybe cut with something worse. You got her pulse back once. Lost it again minutes later.

And now she’s just another line on a clipboard. Another mother screaming into the void.

You're not crying. Not really. You’ve done this long enough to stay functional. But you’re not okay either, and the worst part is that you could’ve handled it — maybe — if Robby hadn’t come in running his goddamn mouth like nothing had happened.

“She coded twice,” you’d snapped, standing over a tray of discarded syringes. “I know,” he said carefully, hands in his pockets. “But we’ve still got six more post-op in recovery and—” “Jesus, Robby. I’m not asking you to care, just act like it matters.” “Don’t do that.” “Do what?” “Weaponize it. I’m not the enemy here.”

You’d laughed bitterly. “Sure. Just the guy giving me a lecture while I’m still covered in a teenager’s blood.”

You hadn’t waited for a response. You walked out before you could say something worse — like how her face reminded you of your cousin. Like how the last OD you saw didn’t make it either. Like how you still dream about the ones you couldn’t save.

You’re on the floor now, in the locked staff break room. Back against the sink, legs pulled up to your chest. The sterile tile presses cold through your scrubs. Your fingers are twitchy. Like your body’s still in fight mode but there’s no one left to fight.

Then there’s a knock. Gentle. Twice. You don’t move.

“It’s me,” Robby says quietly from the other side.

Your throat tightens. You swipe at your face and stare at the floor. “Go away.”

Silence.

Then, his voice again: “I can. If you really want me to.”

You don’t answer. You don’t know the answer.

A soft click — the door opens slowly. He slips in, closes it behind him, and lowers himself to the floor across from you. Not too close. Just enough to remind you he’s there.

For a while, neither of you speak. You can hear someone’s monitor beeping faintly down the hall. A cart squeaking. The world continues turning, unaware of how sharp your insides feel.

You don’t look at him when you finally say: “She reminded me of someone.”

He nods slowly. His voice stays low. “I figured.”

You wrap your arms around your knees tighter.

“My cousin. Same age. Same look in her eyes when she came to me the first time. Told me she’d stop.” You breathe in hard. “She didn’t.”

You let the words hang. If they hurt, let them. It feels better than holding them in.

Robby leans back against the opposite cabinet. His shoulders are tense, but his face is open. Tired, but open.

“I didn’t mean to be cold,” he says after a moment. “I just… I compartmentalize. Sometimes too fast.”

You glance up. “Yeah. I noticed.”

There’s no bite in it now — just tiredness. He hears the shift and softens.

“I wasn’t trying to minimize what happened. I just didn’t know how to help without making it worse.”

You exhale through your nose. “You didn’t make it worse.”

He raises an eyebrow gently. “Could’ve fooled me.”

You shake your head. “I just… I was already cracked open. You were the first person I saw after she died.” A beat. “It wasn’t fair. I know that.”

He shifts closer, slowly, like approaching a wounded animal. You don’t stop him.

“Hey,” he says, voice dipping to something fragile. “You can break around me. You know that, right?”

Your breath catches. “I didn’t want to break at all.”

He offers a small smile. “You’re allowed to.”

You close your eyes for a second. Let the weight of it settle. It’s a rare thing — being seen. Not just professionally, not just as someone competent or capable. But like this. Raw. Human.

You feel his hand near yours. He doesn’t touch, just hovers. Waiting. This time, you close the distance. Your fingers graze his. He links them gently, warm and steady.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“Me too.”

You sit like that for a while. Two tired doctors on a hospital floor, hearts frayed at the edges. Somewhere down the hall, someone laughs. Someone cries.

You just breathe.

And for the first time that day, your chest doesn’t ache from it.

[eraserbread]

nanami and pregnant resided sensually feeding eachother in bed would fix me 🙏

→ pregnant!freader, feeding, malewife kento, mention of drinking, sfw

the air smells like curry, the fans are on high, and the windows are open. It's mid-fall, right in the peak of your third trimester. swollen ankles, painful stretch marks—all of it—have you bound back to the bed.

kento has been cooking dinner most nights; tonight, he made curry. he is the perfect husband, coming home straight from work with no time to settle before diving into caring for you again. he does it with a nonchalant smile on his face, willing to dive to the dirtiest ends of the earth to dote on his pregnant wife.

he steps into the room with two bowls cradled in his hands. hair all disheveled and work shirt falling off the bone. kento's never cooked so much in his life, you do all of it because you love to. now, he's standing at the stove with a furrowed brow, scratching his head as he tries to read your chicken-scratch recipes.

"yum, what do you have there?" you're mumbling, sitting up as he rounds your side of the bed. it's been hard to focus on much at this stage, too—reading was harder, and your mind kept getting lost. all you could really focus on now is the sound of music, the thought of your baby, and scrolling endlessly on sites to buy things for her. a few days ago, you two settled on a name. kento chose it; he wanted to name his daughter nanami rin.

"ah. curry. " he's quirking a brow, making a flustered look you don't see often on him. "c-chicken. pork, too, and some nuts. used that base you had in the fridge, you'd know better than I would."

"thank you for taking care of me," you whisper when he crawls into bed, a pair of chopsticks between his teeth, pulls off his shirt, and loosens his pants. he'd not usually be so careless, but he did have a drink while preparing your dinner and was so ready to be on your skin.

"thank you for carrying our girl." the first place he kisses you is against your loose cami, right above your belly button. then, he moves to your sternum, nuzzling his nose against your heart. his chopsticks are in his hand now, digging into the fleshy part of your thigh unintentionally. "dinner's the least I can do."

you spend a moment looking at him, tracing a finger over his cheek. he's at the perfect vantage point to kiss, but he doesn't. it's how you know his demeanor is off, you thumb at his bottom lip. "bad day at work?"

"no," he sighs, sitting up to fetch the bowl he was planning on giving you—the bowl with most of the meat and vegetables. kento always makes sure you eat well at this point. "well, I was just worried about you... any day, now."

he's scooping in your porcelain bowl, grabbing the perfect bite to present. gently, you smile into it, taking the utensils between your teeth. flickering eyes, kento watches it disappear behind your lips, it makes him smile. "how is it?" he asks, sucking the chopsticks clean after you to try his cooking.

"it's good cause i meal prepped for it."

"would just be a base in the fridge if I didn't finish it."

"yes, kento, and you did so well." he's giving you another bite, a slight shake behind his hand. you reach forward and grab it, giving him stability to guide between your lips. "mm, here. you try it." you sit up a bit too fast for comfort, but you hide the lightheadedness enough to feed kento a bite, smiling like an idiot when he lets you. "'s good?"

"tastes like your curry." now, he's leaning in to kiss you, big hand tangled in your thigh, forming wells in your skin. you kiss him back, tasting the strong, pale taste of alcohol on his breath.

"that's what you taste like." you're speaking against his lips, smiling when you tell him, "and alcohol. one more kiss and I'll be drunk."

"don't speak like that, you've got my baby inside you. she's far too delicate for those jokes." that hand on your thigh trails back to your jutting belly. his grip is real -- like he's not afraid of touching you, but still so gentle with how he cradles the weight of her.

you're swimming with affection, whispering, "i love you."

[talaok]

How it was

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: After Abby's attempt at Joel's life, he's in the hospital, and while you try to navigate through the difficult feelings having almost lost him bring up, his mind seems to be on a much different, inappropriate, thing.

Warnings: talk of Joel almost dying, mentions of blood. Smut| oral sex (m receiving), attempt at fingering (lol), talk of f receiving oral, and Joel's dirty mouth.

a/n: i haven't watched the new episode yet bc im tired of crying but what i can tell you for sure is that did not happen, my baby is fine and ellie has never been happier.

"Well good mornin' to me"

You were bent over the armchair tidying what had transformed into your bed for the past ten days when you heard him.

His raspy morning voice had you turning around with a smile.

You let go of the blanket in your hand as you walked closer to his bed.

The rising sun was filtering through the windows of the hospital, illuminating his upper body with a golden light.

His face was still bruised and swollen and they hadn't yet taken his stitches out.

A bittersweet feeling filled your heart every time you looked at him, every time he winced as he sat up, every time you watched him struggle to walk for more than ten steps... it hurt, and yet it filled you with joy.

He was alive- he'd come so very close, the closest he'd ever come to the end of it all, and he had survived- he was still here, with you.

"Good morning" you beamed, taking his hand in yours as you sat on his bed "How're you feeling?"

He smirked, but you felt him squeeze your hand tenderly "Would feel a lot better if you turned around and showed me that view again"

You could only roll your eyes, chuckling softly.

"Really baby, you feeling any pain? You need something?"

His lips formed a soft small smile as he brought your hand to his mouth to leave a kiss on it.

"'M great babygirl, dontcha worry"

You very much doubted he was great, but you nodded nonetheless.

He never wanted you to worry, which was silly, because there was nothing else you did these days besides worrying.

"Now c'mon, give me some sugar"

"Joel" you protested immediately "I don't wanna hurt you, let's at least wait to see what the nurse says about the stitches"

You talked as if your protests had ever been anything but futile, as if the moment he gave you those sweet puppy eyes and his honeyed voice called your name you weren't already leaning closer.

"I don't care if it kills me darlin', just give me a kiss"

You stopped dead in your tracks, your mouth an inch from his, your breathing one with his.

"don't joke about that"

You knew it was just a stupid joke. But nothing was really a joke anymore, not since you witnessed him being carried into Jackson unconscious, his bloody face beaten to a pulp, his body so close to being lifeless... you knew that image would haunt you for the rest of your life.

"'m sorry, doll" he apologized, his eyes looking into yours with all the care and love inside him "'m here" he promised, squeezing your hand.

You closed your eyes for a moment, holding back the tears threatening to spill.

"Don't scare me like that ever again"

Your tone was serious, matter of factly, because it all was true. You knew, with terrifying certainty, that if anything like that were to ever happen again, you wouldn't survive it.

"I won't" he murmured, your hand in his the only thing grounding you "I promise you, darlin'"

There were so many more things to say, so many things you had to talk about, so many feelings, fears, and hopes bubbling inside you, and yet all you could do at that very moment was press your lips to his, kissing the man you'd feared losing forever, just to lose yourself in him.

The kiss was sweet, soft, tender even.

You didn't wanna hurt him, his lips were still cut and his cheeks were still bruised.

But despite it all, the feeling of kissing him was exactly the same. If there was one thing that hadn't changed, it was the way he made everything else disappear, every hurt, scare, and sadness dissipated into thin air when his lips were on yours- when his stubble grazed your face, his hands held you, his scent hugged you tight...

It always became just you and him.

And then Joel groaned in pleasure, and in what you knew from experience to be frustration.

Your mouths were still connected, just as your hands, only his tongue was now sloppily tasting you deeper, as his other hand, his injured, tired hand, found your thigh, slowly traveling up and up until two of his fingers infiltrated between your thighs, rubbing your cunt through your jeans.

You couldn't help but huff a laugh.

There he was, bedridden and barely alive, and he was still trying to get in your pants... quite literally.

"Joel" you chuckled.

He didn't answer, instead, he only compelled his head to lean forward to deepen your kiss as his hands started fighting with the button holding your jeans together.

The angle was uncomfortable and he was very clearly struggling, but you just sighed into his mouth, silencing your amusement.

It took about a full minute for him to unbutton your pants, but once he finally did, he slid two of his fingers beneath the fabric as quickly as he could, which wasn't a lot given the position.

You obeyed his silent command to spread your legs, but even as his fingers reached your clothed slit, he couldn't do much more than try to caress your pussy.

"Baby" you murmured with a smile as he desperately tried to pleasure you "do you really think now's the time?"

"yeah," he breathed without missing a beat.

Just then his fingers drew higher and came in contact with your clit, making you stifle a soft moan.

But the jeans were too damn tight, and he really had no space to work with.

"take 'em off"

You couldn't help but grin.

He had not changed. Not one bit.

"Joel I can't exactly take my pants off in here right now"

He groaned, his big brown eyes pleading you.

"why not?"

You laughed as you took his wrist in your hand and started leading his fingers off of you, to which he protested with a frustrated noise deep in his chest.

"Because baby... not only is the door open" you said, glancing at it " but anyone could come in at any moment"

He groaned, his hand on your thigh now.

"That never stopped us before"

He earned himself a pointed glare with that one.

You weren't gonna be caught pantsless as your barely alive husband fingered you. No way in hell.

"Then put a sock on the handle or somethin'"

An amused snort left you at that.

"This is hospital baby, not a frathouse"

Those deep brown, expressive eyes of his were completely shadowed with lust- the man was desperate.

Ten days of no sex and he was already looking like a deprived, starved man... not to mention the fact that he had begun to touch you inappropriately on day two.

He almost died, and instead of wishing to watch the sun rise again or listen to birds chirp in the morning, all the man seemed to think of was pussy... yours specifically.

"please sugar"

Goddamn, those damned puppy eyes.

Those two words were all you needed before you got up and started towards the door.

You heard him groan behind you.

"You're gonna leave your man layin' here blueballed?"

You laughed softly as you closed the door, hoping to god that the nurses would get the hint and not come in.

You didn't answer, you just walked back to him, watching his eyes sparkle with excitement once you took the blanket off of him.

How the man still looked hot in a hospital gown was something that needed to be studied.

His left leg, where he'd been shot, was bandaged completely, while the naked right one showed off his hairy thighs, which made warmth spread low in your belly... yeah maybe you'd missed sex too.

Silently, your hand went to the skin that was covered by the very hem of his gown, slowly trailing up and up and up until you cupped his hardening manhood through his boxers.

"fuck" he breathed, struggling to prop himself further up on the bed to get a better view.

You raised your eyebrow, shooting him a look- the last thing you wanted was for him to hurt himself.

"You've got to listen to hear if anyone's coming and warn me if that's the case, ok?"

He nodded mindlessly, his sole focus on your hand stroking his dick.

"yeah- sure" he murmured, urgency and need straining his voice.

Yeah, you were fucked.

Nonetheless, you hiked his gown up and pulled his underwear down- his cock was hard as a rock and you hadn't even done anything more than put your hand on it.

You bent over, looking to the side at him as you slowly, oh so slowly, started kissing his tip.

He twitched in your hand as your tongue darted out to kitty lick him, precum leaking from him just in time for you to taste it.

You were looking at him with those godforsaken sexy eyes you'd get as you finally wrapped your mouth around him, and Joel... Joel was in another universe already.

He groaned, shifting his hips up with a painful grunt as you hummed around him, starting to bob your head as you fit more and more of him inside your mouth.

"Fuck me-" he couldn't help but moan "fuck that feels good darlin'"

He strained his neck as his head fell back against the cushions, his eyes shutting close as his tip hit the back of your throat, making you gag.

He was fisting the blanket so hard his knuckles were white as chalk, and his breathing was so erratic that he was half sure the doctors would run in at any moment because the monitor would pick up him having a heart attack.

"Jesus Christ" he groaned.

Your mouth felt better than anything on this earth at the moment. You were sucking him so tight and god but you had him so deep inside you.

"Just like that" he breathed, watching your eyes water as you forced almost all of him down your throat.

It had been four years and you still couldn't get all of him in- at this point you'd given up trying- He was just too damn big.

"so good for me sweetheart" he grunted, observing his cock go in and out of you "Such a good girl-fuck"

Your hand had found his balls, massaging them tenderly- which meant Joel was pretty much done for.

"Goddamnit-- I'm gonna- I-"

He erupted, filling your mouth with his spent before he could even finish the sentence- and you were more than happy to swallow it all up.

He was breathing heavily, watching you with half-lidded eyes as you smiled up at him, before tucking him back in his boxers and putting the blanket back on top of him.

All sounds from outside suddenly filled the room again, reminding you of where you were... and what you'd just done.

"What did I do to deserve you?" he asked, smiling as you reached his side again.

"beats me" you teased, leaving a quick kiss on his lips.

He groaned from deep in his chest, his hand coming up to stroke your cheek.

"We still need to take care 'f ya darlin'"

"no, we don't" you immediately shook your head.

A side of his lips twisted into a smirk as he got an idea.

You didn't wanna take off your pants, and it's not like he could much to change position given his state, so that meant only one thing...

"Sit on my face"

And yes that idea made you hornier than you already fucking were, but unlike your husband, you still had some sense of decency left in you.

"I'm scared to hurt you when I kiss you and you think I'm gonna sit on your face?"

He looked at you for a moment, trying to figure out if there was any way he could convince you- unfortunately, the results came back negative.

"A man can dream" he sighed as he guided you down for another kiss.

"Let me get a taste at least"

Your lips parted in stunner- he really was desperate today.

"Jesus baby" you huffed, your mouth betraying you with a smile "H-how am I even supposed to do that, you really shouldn't force your hands to struggle too much, it could be bad for-"

His eyes sparked with mischief as he murmured "There ain't nothing wrong with yours though, ain't that right sugar?"

Heat crept up your face as you understood, but seeing the unadulterated need in his iris, the strain in his voice as he whispered 'Just a taste'... in seconds your own hand was in your panties.

"This is dirty..." you murmured, eyeing the door as your fingers delved between your folds, gathering up your slick.

"we've done worse" he breathed, his eyes only on what was happening beneath your jeans.

The worst part was that you actually had.

You swallowed thickly as you pulled your hand out of your pants, guiding your glistening fingers to Joel's mouth.

He wasted no time opening his lips, sucking greedily on your digits, a groan rumbling from deep in his throat at the taste.

You bit your lip, watching the scene unfold as you pressed your thighs together to relieve some of the burning pressure.

He would have probably gone on for god knows how long if you hadn't pulled your fingers out of his mouth.

His cock was hard again and he was goddamn tired of being in this hospital bed.

He wanted to go back to his old life. To his house, his wife, his daughter.

He wanted to get back to waking you up in the morning with his tongue between your thighs- not... this.

So he brought your head down, guiding you for yet another kiss that overflowed with all the hopes and dreams he had about it all going back to how it was.

"fuck me-" he groaned in between desperate kisses "I miss our life- I miss... shit babygirl, I your pussy"

You laughed softly into his mouth before leaning away, a devious spark in your eyes.

"Tell you what...I'll wear a skirt tomorrow" you murmured, ghosting his lips "and I think the weather might be a bit too hot for panties"

The groan he let out at that caused a nurse to worriedly rush in.

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

TORN - Chapter 4

Synopsis: One night, that’s all it took for Josh and India to fall for each other. One night was all it took for her life to turn upside down. She thought she had found the one. Then he had told her the truth… he had someone waiting for him… someone whom he had betrayed to be with India.

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

All OC Characters belong to me

Warnings: Manipulation..

Talisua Fatu could never be disappointed in her four children. Whatever paths they chose, they succeeded and made a name for themselves. None ever found trouble with the law—they were upstanding citizens, reflecting the values she instilled in them. So no, she could never be disappointed in her children. 

But in this moment, she didn’t know how to feel as she looked at her second eldest. 

“You’re marrying Janae?” She asked, eyebrows pinched together in confusion. 

Across the room from her, Josh nodded, his eyes cast downward, focused on the marble countertop. “Yes,” he replied, and Talisua inhaled a sharp breath. 

Why? She wanted to ask. Why would you want to do that?! She wanted to yell at him, demand to know what spell Janae had cast over him.

But instead, she said nothing. She just stared, her jaw tight, her mind reeling.

Josh shifted under her silence. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“No, you don’t,” Talisua said. Don’t get her wrong, she loved her grandchild Micah. She would never wish any harm or pain to him, but Janae? Talisua never trusted her, not since the first time Josh brought her home. 

“How does she feel about Egypt?” 

Josh inhaled a sharp breath, his shoulders tightening. He couldn’t bring himself to look up. 

“She don’t…” He started, his voice wavering. “She don’t really want Egypt around.” 

Talisua’s heart clenched. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but her voice remained calm. “Come again?”

“Not unless I have full custody.”

Talisua blinked slowly, her heart heavy as the words settled over her like fog.

“Full custody,” she repeated, her tone measured but laced with disbelief. “And you think that’s right?”

Josh flinched, finally lifting his eyes to meet hers. The guilt in them was unmistakable.

“I ain’t say it was right,” he murmured. “I just… I don’t know what else to do, Ma’. If I don’t, Janae’s gone. She said she’s taking Micah and leaving.”

“And what, you’re just going to let her use your child like a pawn?” Her voice trembled now, not from anger but heartache. “Micah is your son, Josh. He’s not leverage. And Egypt? She’s a baby. An innocent baby who already lost her father for months. Now you’re going to take her from the only person who's never left her side?” Talisua stepped around the island and gently touched his arm. “I raised you better than this.”

He swallowed hard, the sting of her words cutting deeper than any lecture.

“I know,” he whispered.

“Then act like it,” she said, placing a hand under his chin and lifting his head to meet her eyes. “Trying to do right by Janae doesn’t mean you have to do wrong by Egypt, or her mother.”  

“She wants me to choose Ma,”  Josh said, his voice barely above a whisper. “She told me it’s either her and Micah or Egypt. That’s the deal.”

Talisua’s eyes searched her son’s face, looking past the guilt to the fear beneath it. “That’s not a deal, Joshua. That’s a demand. And love don’t come with ultimatums.”

“I can’t live without my son.” 

“So what happens when Egypt grows up and asks why her father never fought for her?” Talisua asked softly, but the question hit like a blow.

Josh flinched, his body going rigid as he stared at his mother. “Don’t do that, Ma’. I think about it every day.”

“Then think harder,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “Because this ain’t about Janae. It’s about your children. All of them. Micah, Egypt, Jeremi. They’re watching, Josh. And one day they’ll understand every decision you made.” Talisua sighed. “You’re not a bad man, Josh. But you’re about to make a bad decision. And I won’t stand by and watch you sacrifice one child for another.”

“So what do I do?” 

Talisua’s heart softened as she heard the pain in her son’s voice. She could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the weight of the world pressing down on him. She’d raised him to be strong, to think before he acted, but in this moment, it seemed like the choices before him were too much to bear.

“Go see Egypt,” she said quietly. “You’ve spent so much time trying to fix things with Janae, trying to make her happy, that I think you’ve forgotten about the little girl who needs her father just as much. Maybe more.”

After his talk with his mother, Josh raced back home with one thing in mind. He had to be a better father to Egypt. It wasn’t fair that Micah and Jeremi got him at full capacity while Egypt had been sidelined, only getting the pieces of him that were left. She deserved more than that. 

He parked his car and stormed into the house, breezing past Janae, who immediately stood from her seat on the couch and followed up the steps to their bedroom. She watched as he grabbed his duffle bag out of their closet and started to pack. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked, her voice laced with irritation.

Josh didn’t even look up as he rifled through his drawers, tossing clothes into the bag with swift, sharp movements. He wasn’t in the mood for this. He wasn’t in the mood for anything.

“I’m going to see Egypt,” he said flatly, his voice tight with resolve.

Janae scoffed and walked over, blocking him from entering the bathroom to grab his toiletries. 

“Nae, move.” Josh sighed. 

Janae stood her ground, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “You think you can just drop everything and go see her? What about us, Josh? What about Micah?” 

Josh felt his patience thinning. “What’s the issue? I’m tryna be a good fuckin’ dad and you tryna make it seem like I’m abandoning you and Micah!” 

Janae’s eyes narrowed as she stepped closer, not backing down. “You didn’t give a damn about being a dad when Egypt was born. Don’t act like this is some noble, selfless move now.” Her voice was cold, biting.

“I’m not gonna ask again, move.” 

She stared at him for a long second, the weight of his words hanging in the air like thunder before a storm. Then, slowly, she stepped aside, but not without one last barb.

“You’re making the biggest mistake of your life.”

Josh grabbed his bag and brushed past her, his voice low but firm. “No. I made that mistake already. This is me fixing it.”

Janae narrowed her eyes as she watched him pack the rest of his overnight bag. He said nothing else as he brushed past her and out of their room. She heard him walk into Micah’s room. She waiting until he came back out to start her mess again. 

“So that’s it?” she asked, voice low, laced with disbelief. “You kiss your son goodnight and just walk out like everything's okay?”

“Everything is okay.” He stressed. “You making me going to see Egypt a bigger deal than what it is.” 

Janae folded her arms, leaning against the hallway wall as Josh closed Micah’s bedroom door gently behind him.

“Everything is not okay,” she shot back, her voice sharper now. “You running back to that girl and her baby like you some kind of savior.”

Josh turned slowly to face her, his jaw tight. “That girl is Egypt’s mother. And that baby?” He pointed toward the floor as if Egypt’s presence could fill the space between them. “That baby is my daughter. Just like Micah is my son.”

“Oh, now she’s your daughter?” Janae scoffed, eyes flaring. “Where was all that energy when she was born?”

Josh scoffed. “I’ll see you Sunday,” he muttered and walked past her. 

Janae’s voice dropped, low and sharp. “And if you don’t?” 

Josh stopped walking and turned back around to face. “Why you making this such a big fuckin’ deal? You wanted me to get India to sign the papers right? How imma do that without going there?” 

Janes scoffed. “You think i’m stupid, nigga? I know why you’re really going to Dallas.” 

Josh looked at her like she had just grown three head. “Yeah… to see my daughter.” 

Janae gave a short, humorless laugh. “Nah. You going to see her. Don’t play me, Josh.”

“She’s Egypt’s mother. What the hell else am I supposed to do?”

Janae stepped forward, eyes hard now, but her voice stayed steady. “You think I don’t see it? The way you talk about her. The way your whole mood shifts when her name comes up. You didn’t move like this for no damn one-night stand.”

Josh’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. He knew India wasn’t just a one-night stand. He didn’t want her to be a one-night stand. 

“I could deal with a mistake,” she continued, arms folded. “What I can’t deal with is you pretending like she don’t still got a piece of you.” 

“Janae… i’m going to Dallas to see my child. That’t it nothing more.” 

Janae said nothing. She just watched him. Watched as he gripped the strap to his duffle bag. He cleared his throat. “I’ll see y’all on Sunday.” He hesitated before turning his back to her and walking down the steps and out of the house. 

Janae stood at the top of the stairs, her arms folded tightly across her chest as she listened to the sound of the door slamming behind him. Her stomach twisted with something cold and unfamiliar, a mix of anger, betrayal, and fear.

She didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.

She knew what she needed to do next. She needed to get India out of their lives.

Author's Note: Sorry this took so long. Now that graduation is over, hopefully I can start writing more! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and shit.. things are about to get messy 😬

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[tigertale]

I like the idea of an insatiable Kalim who wants a lot of kids/a large family of his own like his father. Written in 1 hour before getting discouraged, don't mind me

• F!Reader; Kalim

•〔　！ 〕Smut; breeding kink?; grammatical errors; not proofread

• 1.3K words

“L-Lord Kalim!” She called out in a meek voice, but it proved to be a useless plea that never truly reached his ears.

His hips rolled onto hers with quite the insistence, leaving her clueless and drenched with her own sweat as her body reached new temperatures. The way his cock dragged against the crevice between her legs… Even the layers of clothes separating them from one another were fruitless before his frantic, instincts-driven action.

He wanted it, now. The delicious taste of her flesh coaxing him deeper into his lust, the one eating him inside out and flushing his skin to a light reddish colour. He wanted to taste it, to devour it. It was his one and only selfish wish, one that not even Jamil or his close relatives could try to pry away from him. Once he had tasted it, the hunger never went away, and the gravity of this sin, of such a carnal desire, never quite settled in his mind.

She was right here, preparing a new set of pillows for the night since the previous ones had already lost their volume and softness after a mere week, almost as if teasing and tempting him to delve deeper into this need constantly scratching the back of his mind as a cry for attention. He was not one to settle for less than desired. An innocent habit that had his retainer fuming with anger and made her nearly tear up under the attention. Or was it because of his restlessness? Only the Great Seven knew, and she would rather let them know than to tell anyone else about how a small part of her truly enjoyed his clueless mind as he would rough her up for hours on end.

“A-Ah please stay, I'll be quick! I swear!” A meaningless response coming from him. She knew better than to trust him when he begged for it under the guise that it would be ‘quick’. She was tempted to roll her eyes, but buried her face into the crook of her arms, hands still tightly gripping the side of his canopy bed, the moment she felt his hands discarding her skirt and grazing her flaming hot skin. All this dry humping didn't miss the chance to make her more sensible under his touch.

They were in for yet another full night of him plowing inside her with how pent up he looked. Kalim’s stamina was actually something she feared, not that she would ever admit it out, as it was not the first time he had come to her and convinced her into having sex with him. But at this point it felt like mating, and the word made her shiver with a certain distaste. His father's love for these… nightly activities were not unheard of, if anything they were out for everyone to see, because who had more than thirty children?! And Kalim seemed to have inherited this very trait that made him as insatiable.

Her knuckles turned white as his leisure strokes between her wet thighs picked in speed, rocking her body back and forth and threatening to have her fall into the bed head first, his body following suit and crushing her under his weight. He might be cute, but his usual caring nature flew out the window the moment his dick got wet, and she had taken the habit of cursing him in a long distant ephemeral voice in her mind whenever he got too carried away. She would not let herself become a simple sex toy for him to cuddle until she heaved for a single intake of air, not again!

Although such convictions were hard to keep when he clumsily pushed against her clit in an attempt to gain more friction. Damn him. Damn this amazing man and his just as amazing cock drooling joyfully between her labia as he finally decided that it was time for him to fill her. Or feel her perhaps? The only thing she could think about was no longer his devilish-like stamina coming to bully her, but how he would soon help her with the growing ache inside her lower stomach.

Kalim! Oh sweet Kalim, she wanted to call out, but her voice became void the moment it reached her lips, the sharp thrusts inside her cunt morphing her thoughts into cutesy stars dancing in her eyes. She could only beg for him to go harder against her, and when he inevitably led their bodies tumbling into the sheets — the one thing she didn't want to happen merely minutes ago — she happily writhed under his even harsher administrations.

What is it that he was calling for with that distant voice of his? A child? Children? For her to become a mother? She knew better than to agree to such things with her status, although it seemed that he knew, or at least had a rough guess, about her weakness. That with a cock inside her, she became nothing more than a toy answering all his questions with that annoyingly euphoric, and almost drunken-like, tone. He wanted a child? Sure, as long as he would continue to plow inside her! Two? Whatever, she just needed him!

She might act like she was cautious at all times, and even critical of this airhead who had learnt to cherish life so dearly after so many assassination attempts, but she was no better than him. He might be a sucker for sex, lusting whenever he heard even the slightest innuendos at a party or felt the tiniest touch against his thigh when he got dressed up by some random servants, yet she was the fool always succumbing. Would she follow Kalim if he jumped off a bridge? She didn't know, but she was certain that if he jumped in his bed, she would follow him in a heartbeat.

Face crushed in a pillow, and his hand on the back of her throat as a leverage as his other hand kept her hips up for him to thrust into, she felt the crawling heat stealing away any sensation within her legs. They felt weak, terribly so, and she was thankful that he was there to anchor her, muffled moans leaving the spit drenched fabric as a mean to thank him.

Quickly though, at least faster than she would have liked, she felt the spasms coming into waves, from her cunt all the way up to her arms. Cumming was still such a foreign feeling that left both her mind blank and body aching with a sense of loss. Where was this feeling bubbling up inside her, and why did it disappear so easily? Not even Kalim’s continuous thrusts, as he tried to tilt over the edge too, managed to make up for this. Instead, her shallow melancholia mixed with a pleasurable pain that stretched her climax.

It didn't take long for him to come, his seed warming her insides as if to comfort her. It felt like there was more than usual, and the thought of getting pregnant appeared, but only stayed for a second. It disappeared the moment he removed his cock from her hole and sent his cum tumbling outside. But it was still hard. His cock she meant. It was still hard, and the moment he took her hips, turning her around for him to face her, she knew that he was not done. He never was, one single round not enough to satiate him.

Kalim's eyes were teary and matched his heavy breaths as he guided himself back inside her with no thoughts about even letting her rest for a moment. His short snow-like coloured hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, and so did his eyelashes as they batted and brushed against his hot reddish cheeks, trying to engrave the sight of her naked self in his memory.

Fuck, she just wanted to change these damn pillows of his.

[togeppy]

gentle touches ;

bodhi durran x reader

after rsc, bodhi helps take care of his girlfriend, getting her healed, washed up, and comfortable in his bed. ✧ : had to get at least one fic in for bodhi week on @empyreanevents, here’s day 6: soft bodhi!

Never before in your life have you felt so completely disoriented. You’re not sure how long you were in the torture chamber with your squadmates - has it been hours since you’ve seen been exposed to the outside world? Days? You’re in so much pain from RSC that you’re no longer sure where you’re injured, you just know that your body feels like it’s on fire, and you need to get yourself to the healers immediately. 

Your squadmates all headed in the direction of the infirmary immediately after being released, but with the daze that all of you are in, no one seemed to notice when you accidentally made a wrong turn and ended up separated from them all. The fact that your eyes are nearly swollen shut doesn’t help - you can barely see where you’re walking, completely unable to do anything but limp forward in hopes of coming across someone that can direct you to the healers. 

As you trudge forward slowly down the corridor, you can barely make out two figures approaching you head-on and you send up a quick prayer to Zihnal that they’re kind hearted enough to help you out instead of taking advantage of your situation. 

“RSC?” a sharp-but-familiar voice cuts through the silence, and you feel your nervousness subside upon realizing it’s Xaden, your wingleader, in front of you. For a moment, you think you’ve injured your head and eyes so badly that you’re seeing double, but with a few blinks to clear your vision, you realize it’s your boyfriend Bodhi standing next to him, the duo looking more like cousins than ever. 

You want to nod, but you’re in so much pain that you can’t even move your head forward enough to execute it. A gentle pair of arms wraps around you, holding you up, careful not to touch the areas where you’re visibly hurt. You’d recognize the careful touch anywhere, and your body sags into the man’s arms, letting him take the brunt of your weight. 

“What are you doing here, love? Shouldn’t you be going to the healers?” Bodhi asks softly, though you can hear how tense his voice is, likely angry from seeing you in this state. 

“Got lost,” is all you manage to get out, your voice raspy from the rawness of your throat. You’re severely dehydrated, and every single one of your senses seems to be currently impaired. 

“I’ll take her to the healers, you go on without me,” Bodhi says to Xaden. You can tell that he’s being considerate by trying to speak quieter than usual, knowing that you’re extra sensitive to sound. 

Xaden pauses before he moves to head off. “Sure you don’t need any help?” 

Bodhi shakes his head, “I got her, go.” Xaden nods and walks off, leaving you and the younger cousin alone in the corridor. 

“Are you feeling strong enough to walk, or would you rather I carry you?” your boyfriend asks, softly swiping your damp hair out of your face so that he can get a better look at you. 

As a rider, you want to be strong - you want to have the courage to have walked away from an interrogation, and walk yourself up to the healers to prove your worth. But, considering that you so quickly lost your squad, and the agony you were in making it this far, you allow yourself to be vulnerable and let the man you love take care of you. 

“Need help,” you rasp out again, hands weakly going to grab ahold of Bodhi’s arms. 

He hums in agreement. “I’m going to pick you up, tell me if I’m hurting you at all, and I’ll stop.”

He crouches, slowly going to pick you up bridal-style, his hands moving slowly as he carefully watches your features for any sign of discomfort. With a few winces and small adjustments, he finally has you in his arms in a way that doesn’t cause you any more excruciating pain, and he begins walking towards the infirmary. 

Bodhi mutters quiet encouragement as he walks, seeing your face scrunched up in discomfort from your injuries. 

“Nolon’s going to mend your injuries and you’ll feel better soon, I promise.” he whispers, soft kisses being placed against your temple. All you can do is exhale in response, but you’re fairly sure your nose is broken, so even that sends a shooting pain across your face. 

You’re even more disoriented when you make it to the infirmary, the boy needing to do the explaining on your behalf. He places you down on a vacant bed near where your squad is being treated, and one of your squadmates looks over, newly mended. 

“Wondered where you went,” he mumbles, still loopy from whatever medication they had given him. “Wanted to go back but we weren’t really sure where we lost you. ‘M sorry.” 

You want to respond but you’re still in too much pain, so Bodhi gives the boy a half-smile on your behalf. 

While you wait for Nolon to arrive and mend your injuries, your boyfriend doesn’t leave you for a second. He sits at your bedside, gently stroking your hair to calm you down. He keeps you distracted from the pain by catching you up on what you’ve missed while you and your squad were secluded - you learn that you were gone for three days, and in that time Xaden has had some… romantic developments with Violet that Bodhi can’t help but laugh about. 

You wince as you laugh, your broken rib sending a jolt of pain through you, and Bodhi pivots the conversation so as not to hurt you further. After what feels like an eternity later, Nolon appears to mend your injuries. Bodhi holds your hand through it all, murmuring soft praises as your leg is mended, then your ribs, then your face. Your arms aren’t severe enough to warrant mending, so you’re left in a sling and sent on your way with instructions to rest for a few days. 

To say that you’re in a daze afterwards is an understatement - you feel like you could fall asleep at the foot of your bed. The weight of the last few days hangs heavily over you, paired with the pain of the torture and mending, just keeping your eyes open is a challenge in itself. Luckily, you have your boyfriend to help you back to your room, otherwise you would have stumbled around aimlessly for a second time that day. 

One arm looped around your waist, the boy begins leading you back towards the second-year dorms in the riders quadrant. Only when you pass the hallway where you’d normally turn to your room do you look at him confused. “We passed my room,” you mumble, your head snapping in the direction of your room. The sudden movement makes you dizzy, and you stumble slightly, only for him to hold you more firmly. 

“I know love, we’re going to get you washed up first, then we’ll go to my room to rest,” he responds, continuing to walk in the direction of the showers. When you arrive, he takes a peek inside to make sure there’s no one there before leading you in. He helps you sit on one of the benches, before glancing at the door. “Give me one second, I’ll be right back.” 

Too out of it to question anything, you follow his command, and before you can even wonder where he’s gone, he reappears in front of you with a towel, toiletries, and a fresh change of clothes. 

“Okay, let’s get you washed up.” 

“It’s okay, you’ve helped me enough today. I can take a shower myself,” you try to protest, moving to stand up, but you feel the blood rush from your head and dark spots flicker through your vision. You stumble, and before you know it, Bodhi’s arms are around you again, holding you upright. 

“Wanna try that again or are you gonna let me help?” he asks, a cheeky smile on his face, knowing you have no choice but to accept his aid. 

“Fine.” you concede, allowing him to help lift your tattered shirt over your head, and undress yourself fully to step into the shower. He turns on the water so that the warm temperature will soothe your aching muscles, and he guides you under the stream. 

You sigh as your body finds relief at its warmth, and you see your boyfriend grin out of the corner of your eye. He begins washing your hair, lathering it with shampoo, and you can’t help but shut your eyes at the feeling of his hands running through your hair, massaging your scalp. He hums a quiet tune as he works at cleaning you off, your body fully at ease in his presence.

When he’s finished with your hair, you open your eyes again as he begins scrubbing off the blood caked to your body. He lets you clean the blood from your face and your injured arm so that you don’t feel utterly useless, but when he can tell you’re too weak to properly clean your back and your legs, he takes over once again, his touch never anything short of wholly gentle. 

When you’re moments away from nodding off in his arms, he turns off the water and hands you a towel to wrap yourself in. You dry yourself off, and put on the fresh set of clothes - he’s picked pyjamas that are loose on your body so as not to strain your newly healed injuries, and you’re completely grateful at the consideration he’s given to making you as comfortable as possible. He helps you re-sling your arm, eyes never leaving your face for a moment, watching for any sign of pain.

Taking the toiletries from your hands, the boy loops his arm in your own uninjured arm, bringing you back to his room. 

“Lie down, I’ve got everything else handled,” he says as soon as you step past his warded door frame, moving to put the toiletries away in their proper place. You shake your head, pulling him towards the bed with you. 

“Tomorrow,” you mutter, voice now less raspy from hydrating in the infirmary, “Come lie with me.” 

Bodhi doesn’t protest as you lead him to the bed. You flop down onto the mattress immediately, earning a soft laugh from him. He gently lifts the covers, allowing you to clumsily wriggle in beneath them. He follows you in, and allows you to rest your head on his chest. He gently rubs your back as you lie next to him. 

“Thank you for taking care of me Bo,” you whisper, eyelids heavy as you’re finally allowed to rest, feeling safe after everything you’ve been through in the last few days, “Don’t know what I would have done without you.” 

“Good thing that’ll never happen,” he whispers back, a soft kiss being placed to the crown of your head, “I’ll always be here to take care of you.” 

You hum a garbled thanks as you nestle further into his side. “RSC was scary, but I got through by thinking about finding you after.” You’re not sure where the confession came from, but despite your delirium, you feel that you need him to know how much he helped in getting you through it all.

“I hated being apart from you and seeing you so injured.” Bodhi moves his other arm to pull you closer into him. “If anyone tries to pull anything like that on you in the future, they won’t make it out alive.” 

You let out a tired laugh, the exhaustion finally starting to pull you under. He can tell by the way that your responses start to slur together that you’re barely able to hold yourself together. 

“Sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.” He begins raking his fingers slowly and gently through your hair, knowing it’ll comfort you to feel safe enough to finally rest.

“You promise?” you ask, all too aware of the possibility of RSC nightmares plaguing you through the night. 

“Tonight, and always,” Bodhi whispers, placing another soft kiss on the top of your head. “Now rest, I’ve got you.”

[inafieldofstarflowers]

Obviously the first chapter of The Foxhole Court lays the groundwork/provides background for a lot of parts of the series (Exy, the Foxes, who Andrew is, hints at Neil’s past, etc.), but I think one of the most important (& honestly masterful) things Nora does in it is establish the relationship between Neil, Exy, and Kevin.

When we meet Neil, he’s literally on the bleachers in pain from watching the Exy court be turned back into a soccer field, because that’s basically a crime to him. While yes, this is a funny comment because it’s so deeply dramatic, the following explanation that it’s the one thing Neil has never been able to let go of through all of the identities he’s held makes it clear that Exy is something more to Neil than just a game; rather, it’s a symbol of his lost childhood, of the way things might have been if he and his mother hadn’t run. Still, Neil is torn about the idea of pursuing Exy, because his love for it is warring with his mom’s instructions not to play again in order to remain safe and under the radar.

Enter David Wymack with a contract—or, really, Kevin Day with a contract.

Even Wymack says that Kevin is the one signing Neil. Kevin, who Neil met once as a child, when they played a game of Exy together. Kevin, who has spent the years Neil has been on the run building his skills to become a star Exy player. Kevin, who has a career it is obvious Neil has followed closely.

At this point, Neil reaches two important conclusions:

He would be in danger of losing everything if Kevin remembered him, but he doesn’t seem to

The offer of a contract doesn’t matter, because Neil Josten isn’t real—no matter “how much he liked being Neil Josten”

And this is where (in my opinion) things get very interesting: as Neil thinks about the offer to play for the Foxes—& therefore with Kevin—he thinks that he doesn’t want to give up Exy because “It was the only thing that made him feel real,” and then follows this up with the thought that “[His] past was locked in Kevin’s memories. It was proof he existed, same as this game they both played. Kevin was proof Neil was real.”

Since Kevin was first mentioned, it has been in relation to his Exy career—his partnership with Riko, the broken hand that halted his career briefly, signing to the Foxes, the speculation about Andrew’s impact on that choice—because that is the thing about him that matters to Neil—or, perhaps more accurately, it’s the only thing Neil really knows about him. Neil’s concerns about Kevin remembering him are so loud that they can make it easy to overlook the fact that Kevin and Neil aren’t reunited childhood friends, they’re just people who essentially had a really fucked up playdate once.

The thing is, that day is the one with the biggest what-ifs for Neil, and as a result, Kevin is wrapped up in those what-ifs: for Neil, it’s become a question of if I had stayed, would I have reached stardom like Kevin has? Exy and Kevin, while not fully interchangeable, are certainly inextricably linked in Neil’s mind, and they are also both tied up in Neil’s dreams and regrets.

Why does this matter? Two main reasons: first, having this background shows us why Kevin is so important to Neil: no matter how much Neil doesn’t want to be Nathaniel anymore, Nathaniel was the one who was real. The only things at the start of the series that give Neil Josten that same feeling are playing Exy and Kevin Day.

Second, we are immediately shown that Neil’s perception of Kevin is not entirely trustworthy, because its foundation is one traumatic childhood event followed by a years-long parasocial relationship. And, while Neil certainly gets to know Kevin better as the series goes on and they actually start spending time together, there are many moments where Neil views Kevin through a lens that is too close to being “Kevin=star Exy player,” which results in him misinterpreting Kevin’s meaning (ie after Kevin learns who he is and Neil thinks he’s just concerned about their season even though Kevin’s telling him to run) or simply brushing over other parts of his personality (ie when he buys into the “Kevin only cares about Exy” idea some of the others have said). By making us aware of this early, Nora is preparing us to examine what Neil’s saying for bias by showing that he isn’t an entirely reliable narrator, and it’s done so well in just a few pages.

[lsunstreakerl]

Rico/Max first heat? Any verse is fine, but I would love FMF or canon

whoops! called you anon in the last post, sorry- goes to show my incredible ability to keep my ask box straight! anyways, this has somehow ended up longer than the first one. part two of omegaverse fmf, (part one) first with rico's POV, and ending with max's. 3.4k, explicit.

parings: rico verhoeven/max verstappen

relevant heads up: omegaverse, continuation of the dubious consent, max's incredible ability to misunderstand his relationship with rico, and criminal levels of down bad from rico.

Rico is frozen as his omega bites down. The snap of his scent gland between his teeth, and the rush of endorphins inside of him— Max is still snarling at him even with his teeth sunk into his neck, like a hound dog who'd snuck into the kitchens and stolen a chunk of meat.

His rut bears down around him, but it's controlled, a byproduct of Rico spending his entire life learning to weaponize it. It doesn't make him mindless, just sharpens his senses in a more animalistic way. He slowly lowers himself down onto Max, so that his psychotic little omega doesn't have to strain his neck as he gets Rico's blood smeared across his mouth.

He's rumbling again, because it's the only thing that's seemed to get through Max's heat brain. He hadn't wanted to tie him up, but he'd realized that Max had woven rope— and when he'd had the time to do that Rico has no idea— and the opportunity was too good to pass up.

He's not particularly interested in getting kneed in the balls again, even if Max is pretty enough to get away with it. His omega had fought viciously, really forced Rico to work for it. He's never participated in a mating run until now, and although he's watched friends go through the motions, he can't remember anyone mentioning their mates seemingly wanting them genuinely dead.

Max had been difficult to track. Once Rico had figured out he was using the river it hadn't been so bad, but finding the entrance and exit points had been a struggle, and then the cliff face—

Max's slick scent had slammed him in the face like brick. He'd momentarily lost control over his rut, and that had been just enough time for Max to slip away.

He noses at Max's scent gland as he feels the teeth in his neck loosen. His omega is whip smart and fast, and a much better grappler, even in heat, than Rico had been prepared for.

They'll have strong pups, eventually.

He scrapes his teeth gently, more a warning than anything as he gets a hand down between Max's thighs, fingers dragging through slick. There's so much of it, a sweet scent that Rico would happily down himself in.

He gets one finger into Max, who's so loose and wet that he wonders for a moment if he's even noticed. The second one goes easily, and Max twitches underneath him, pupils blown wide, blood across his mouth.

Rico pushes his scent further, almost oppressively thick in the air around them as he gets a third finger inside, licking over Max's neck. His omega seems to appreciate that, if the way he falls into submission is any indication. His head tips back, jaw exposed as Rico feels him clench around his fingers, a soft whine escaping him.

He rumbles again, slowly working his fingers as he gets Max used to his mouth on his neck. Mating bites can be pleasurable— although Rico's is giving him a dull throb, either from the force of the bite or the unmatched bond.

It's fine. He doesn't mind being patient, if it means that Max feels secure. If biting Rico first is what he needed, Rico doesn't mind. He's only knotting Max here on the ground once.

He hadn't wanted to do it in the forest at all, but Karim had made a big fuss about tradition, and Rico doesn't particularly want to get into an argument with the head of House Verstappen. The man makes him uneasy.

He spreads his fingers wide, crooning lowly as Max twitches, blinking up at him. There's barely a sliver of blue ringing around his pupils, and he seems confused, like he'd expected more of a reaction for biting.

Rico really doesn't mind— he's had worse bites from the strays around the castle. His omega is far gone, tied up in the woods in heat, and Rico doesn't want this to take any longer then it has to, but he doesn't want to go too fast and hurt Max either.

There's the bare bones of a nest waiting for them back home, and all the materials Max could want. Martijn is supposed to be gathering scented materials from his own delegate to take back with them.

He mouths at Max's neck again, privately smug when his omega simply shivers, head tilting back to exposure his neck further. It's much better than the angry snarls or the terrified whining of before, and Rico's careful as he fucks him slowly with his fingers, slipping in his pinky as well.

He's not small by any means, and he doesn't want Max to be uncomfortable on his knot, which means he's checking that he's ready, even in heat.

Max whimpers softly, hips twitching. He's got his jaw clamped shut tight, a small act of defiance, but Rico doesn't mind. If he does his job right, Max will crack open underneath him anyways, cresting with pleasure through his heat. It's just another test.

Despite his self control, there's a tightness at the base of his skull, his rut hot in his veins. The thrill of the hunt had been deeply satisfying, but now he wants to take.

He shoves it back down.

Max's breathing is getting ragged, scent sweetening and spiraling as Rico finally gets his cock out, heavy and hot in his hand. He keeps his mouth on Max's neck, over his scent gland— he's going to bite when he knots him, to blur the line between the pain and the pleasure, make it as easy for his omega as possible.

He lets his teeth scrape over his neck, pushing his scent and rumbling at the same time, enough that Max instinctively relaxes as Rico slides inside of him. He'd debated going slowly or not, but with an omega in heat, he didn't want to take too long and risk Max hurting himself trying to get more.

Max yelps as Rico pushes halfway in one smooth motion, wiggling underneath him. He croons softly, sucking at Max's neck to distract him, deeply satisfied at the moan he gets for his efforts. Omegas are built for this kind of thing— they want to be submissive, even a volatile, slightly psychotic omega like Max. He's been lashing out because he's scared, and he thinks Rico is going to hurt him.

Rico just has to prove him wrong. All he has to do is bite him and knot him, and then they can head home, but Max is too far gone to explain that properly, which means all Rico can do is show him.

He rolls his hips, lips pressing against Max's neck. There's a soft gasp near his ear, his omega's scent curling around him. There's more pleasure to it now than fear, even if he's still bound underneath him.

Max's scent is all he can smell, all he can taste on his tongue, face buried into his neck like a man starved as he nips gently, pushing a few more inches in. His omega is taking him well, small little moans escaping him. He's forgetting to keep his mouth shut, slowly falling further as Rico fucks into him, and Rico can't smother the pleased notes in his own scent.

Max responds to it well, moaning loudly when Rico gets flush to his hips, whispering soft praise into his throat, pressing kisses to the thin skin below his ear.

"Alpha—"

Rico rumbles loudly, free hand mapping out Max's body underneath him, skimming his waist, his hip and his thigh. His other hand is still braced behind Max's head, and it hadn't budged even when Max had reared up and bit him.

His King's Guard likes to call him paranoid, but he has no interest in going to all this effort just for his lovely, batshit insane omega to accidentally smash his head into a rock.

Max is perfect underneath him, relaxed under his hands and on his cock, scent mellowing out slightly. It'll even out more when he's on a knot, and Rico can check him for injuries then. He wouldn't put it past him to have somehow collected an assortment in the process of the hunt.

He can feel his knot starting to form, catching at Max with each thrust. He's starting to squirm underneath him, eyes desperate as his scent goes rich with need, mouth dropping open in a low moan.

Rico rumbles, fitting his teeth lightly over his omega's scent gland as he keeps the same pace. It's doing it for Max, so he's not going to adjust it any, not when Max is finally pliant underneath him, pleased noises being worked out of him.

His knot swells, and he croons lowly at Max as he thrusts in one more time, and Max cries out, tipping his chin back, exposing the pale lines of his throat, the smattering of freckles.

"Alpha, alpha need it—"

Rico knows.

His teeth sink in as Max is flush to his hips, scent gland snapping under his mouth, and he can feel his omega convulse underneath him, moaning high and long. The bond is a physical feeling tugging him closer to Max's chest, kissing softly at his neck as they both come down from the high.

The rut is less oppressive in his head, enough for him to feel bad that Max is still bound. He works one hand around to deftly untie the knots, carefully sitting them upright. He's cautious to make sure he doesn't tug at Max at all, arranging him in his lap.

Max makes a soft noise, nose tucking into Rico's neck. His bite mark is still throbbing, but he knows now that's just from his omega's teeth— the mating bond feels solid between them.

There's exhaustion, the tiniest threads of anxiety, but they're fading by the minute, overshadowed by a deep contentment that must be from himself, and a fuzzy haze that must belong to Max.

He runs his hands slowly across his omega— his mate— searing for any nicks or cuts. There's not many besides the few scrapes across his face, and he relaxes.

By the time his knot starts to go down, in what could have been minutes or hours later, Rico has decided he would die for him.

Max had, at some point, started softly purring against his chest, and it had made him feel a starburst of emotions, too much for him to handle at once. It was the kind of feeling he would go to war over, if it meant getting to experience it again, and he'd contented himself with pressing soft kisses across his omega's hairline, down the bridge of his nose and across his cheeks.

Max had hazily blinked at him before dozing back off.

Now, he gingerly pulls out, fingers reaching for the scattered components of Max's leather armor as he begins to strap it back on. He's hoping he's remembering it all correctly. The mating bond has done wonders for his rut— it feels less wild inside of him, now that he has a focus on getting Max back home to their den. It's sharper, more targeted.

Max is still foggy with it, although Rico can feel the soft snares of awareness threading lightly through the bond. Max could snap to alertness if he needed to, but his instincts are soothed by the presence of Rico carrying him.

Rico presses another light kiss to his forehead as he checks that they're both as put back together as they can be, keeping Max close to his chest as he stands. He can smell the fires not too far away— it had been difficult to tell before, but now with his rut sharpened to a fine point, focused on taking care of his mate, they're clear as day.

Max is purring in his arms as they walk. He'd squirmed tiredly in Rico's arms before pressing his nose into his neck, hair brushing against his jaw.

The campfires finally come into view. Rico hadn't realized he was still tense until he relaxes, smelling his pack waiting for them. Max's people are nearby, and the smaller alpha— the one who'd given him a murderous glare when he'd initially sniffed Max to catch his scent— curls his lip in a snarl.

Rico bristles, his own lip lifting, showcasing a flash of fang, and something must alert Max through the bond— he rapidly blinks his eyes, struggling to fight back to awareness. Rico immediately forgets the smaller alpha, crooning lowly at his omega.

"Sorry, that was— it's dumb. We're fine, sweetheart. It's okay."

He can smell his pack on one side, cautiously approaching. They're wary of his protective instincts, even if they don't need to be. Rico trusts them with his life, and Max eventually will as well. The older alpha approaching, however...

He widens his stance, trying not to let any negative feelings push through the bond, even though he doesn't like the other man.

"I'm not coming any closer, Your Highness. He's yours now. I just wanted to ensure he didn't cause you too much trouble?"

Rico's jaw tightens. Max caused him plenty of trouble— that was what had made it wonderful. He's clearly not doing a good job of keeping his temper in check, because Martijn sidles up beside him, smiling pleasantly.

"Rico's got a tough gourd. No issues, really— or we would've heard him complaining the whole way back."

Normally Rico's willing to laugh at himself a bit, but he can't even bring himself to break eye contract with Jos, staring down the smaller alpha.

He lifts his hands, stepping back as he dips his head.

"Pleasure doing business, Your Highness."

Max catches a hint of Jos' scent in the wind, and Rico can feel a thread of anxiety ratchet up in his chest through the bond. It's more than enough to snap his already thin patience.

"You're dismissed."

He realizes a moment later that Martijn is projecting his neutral scent, keeping him less agitated. He waits until the northern delegate has set off before leaning into the beta gratefully.

"Thank you."

Martijn hums, tilting his head to get a better look at Max, curious.

"He gave you a good fight, huh? You look beat up."

Rico makes a face.

"Those thighs are not decoration— he's got a mean kick."

Karim snorts off to his left, and Rico tosses him a halfhearted glare as they pack their things.

"Did you get items for his nest?"

Martijn grins, patting a pack on the back of his horse.

"Yup! Nothing from his dad— the little alpha, Mick, said that wasn't a good idea— but some stuff from the rest of his pack."

He pauses, lips turning downwards as he looks at Max again.

"It's not much."

Rico can feel the pack bond in his chest trying to curl into the mating bond, the curiosity of his most trusted people. They love Rico, it only makes sense they'll love his mate, but they understand it might be slow going.

He nods, keeping Max close as Karim drapes a cloak over him in Rico's arms. Dennis is waiting next to Rico's horse, peering quietly at his omega, and then at the bite mark on his neck, snorting softly.

"He took a chunk out of you, kid."

Rico grins, preening.

"He really did— I wasn't expecting it either, I'd thought he was submitting."

Dennis grins, rumbling lowly.

"Good. About time you met your match."

The older alpha claps him on the shoulder gently, and he helps Rico saddle up, careful not to jostle Max too much. The sharp thread of anxiety from Jos' presence has faded, and Max is back to breathing into Rico's neck, soft puffs of air tickling his skin.

Rico feels settled with his mate in his arms, surrounded by his pack. They'd had to leave a few people to watch the castle, but his heart of hearts— they're all here. It's not entirely safe, not yet, not until Rico can get Max settled into his nest, coax him apart between the stalwart stone walls of his den.

Soon.

------

Max remembers bits and pieces. He remembers a mad dash through the woods, the icy cold of a river, remembers the spiced scent of rut— but he doesn't remember any pain.

He remembers being laid out in the dirt, and there's an embarrassing flash of memory he hopes isn't real of him begging.

None of that matters at the moment, because his heat breaks inside unfamiliar walls, panting as he comes down from an orgasm he barely remembers. His thighs are shaking, ankles hooked together behind a large neck, and he's sore, but there's large hands running soothingly across his legs, and despite everything that should be scaring him right now—

The fear just isn't there.

He swallows, legs twitching as he tries to close them. He expects the alpha between his legs to refuse, but he's surprised to find easy acceptance.

There's a solid weight in his chest that he doesn't recognize. It feels... nice. There's a certain warmth to it, and he realizes as the alpha shifts back up the bed that it seems connected, somehow.

His jaw cracks as he yawns, trying to put things together. He feels more settled in his own skin than he's felt in years, and he's—

He's in a nest.

The alpha watching him patiently is the King.

The realizations hit him at once, anxiety flooding his body, and before he can work himself into a proper panic, the weight in his chest settles. There's a pleasant scent in a room, a low noise by Max's ear, and he's having a hard time remembering why he would want to freak out about anything.

"Easy, Max. You wake up fast."

Max looks over at King Verhoeven, face flushing a vibrant red as he spots the bite mark deep into his neck. It's absolutely going to scar, and he's mildly afraid that he's about to be killed for it—

"Max."

It's not quite a command, but there's a low note of heavy suggestion, yanking Max from him thoughts as he instinctively bares his neck for his mate.

His eyebrows furrow, everything screeching to a halt. The woods, the river grass ropes, the bite, the knot.

He touches his fingers gingerly to his own neck, tracing the scabbed edges over his own scent gland.

"I thought— you mated me."

His voice comes out more incredulous than he'd like, and King Verhoeven tilts his head curiously, eyes sparkling.

"I did, yes. You gave a thrilling hunt, Max. And you've got some sharp teeth."

Max doesn't understand.

"But I'm a concubine."

The shock that rips through his chest isn't his own, and he struggles with it for a moment, grappling to get it under control before he realizes it belongs to Rico.

When did he think of him as Rico? Max can feel it through what must be the bond, the same way Rico must be able to have felt Max's heat break.

He scoots closer to Max, wrist pressing against his neck as he's scented thoroughly. The shock has turned to confusion, which has turned to a quiet anger.

"Who told you that?"

Max bristles.

"I didn't need to be told, that's just— that's how it works."

Rico leans forward slowly, pressing their foreheads together in a gesture that leaves Max feeling cracked open and raw.

"No, Max. You're not a concubine. I don't have any other omegas, I only— I only wanted one. A mate."

Max can feel that he means it. He makes a soft noise in the back of his throat, tipping his head down to nose at the mating bite.

"I, ah,"

He feels a bit embarrassed about it now, knowing there were no other omegas.

"Sorry for biting you so hard."

Rico rumbles lowly, and Max is surprised to find that the bond simply seems pleased.

"I wasn't expecting it, but... it's fitting. I like it for us, although I have to wonder, if you thought you were a concubine— why'd you bite me?"

Max flushes, deliberately looking away.

"I wanted to have something none of the others could get."

He keeps his voice soft, but his words ring true. Rico croons at him, affection dripping from his scent.

"There are no others, sweetheart. Just you, and you made your mark so thoroughly it would be impossible to miss."

Max still feels embarrassed about it. He startles slightly when Rico's palm rests between his shoulders, but he finds a pleased purr rising in his chest.

There's too much information he needs to digest, next steps to take, people to meet— but for now, he's content to curl in the nest with his alpha.

His mate.

[astrobolical]

I’ve taken a deeper dive into DC comics recently, and I have something I gotta say.

Guy Gardner just needs a chance to escape his past.

While his bowlcut and joke-character era are important, they were filled with throwaway c-rank hero antics and writers who, lets face it, didn’t like him. But he’s not as bad as people think when they hear the name Guy Gardner. He’s more than just that lantern Batman knocked out with one punch (which was deserved, but still).

The more I read about him or things he’s included in, especially more recent media, I’m awestruck that he doesn’t get at least a little more love.

So here are the reasons I think Guy Gardner is better than you think he is.

Upbringing

“I never took a punch that hurt as bad as any he gave me.”

Guy didn’t have it easy growing up. His father was an abusive alcoholic who berated and beat him daily for nothing, just because he was there, because he was “thick headed.” But despite everything he went through and the horrible upbringing he had to endure, Guy didn’t fall into the same cycle as his father did. Yeah, he has a bad attitude, he’s pretty cocky and he hides behind that bravado, but he never turned to villainy.

He became a social worker in older media, working to help people who are in his situation to escape it, like I’m sure he wished someone would have helped him. In more recent media it has been retconned that he’s a cop, which I like less, but he’s still a good one. He goes out of his way to help people and make their lives better, as best he can. No one walks away from that sort of history unscathed, so his aggressive persona is no surprise. But he’s a Green Lantern, and a hero despite it all.

Willpower & Strength

Just to begin with the fight pictured above, Guy took on that Yellow Lantern without his ring and nearly died, but he won. He has some of the strongest willpower there is, and the sheer bravado to back it up. His fellow Lanterns, mostly, know that while he’s problematic that he will get the job he’s given done. And if they don’t right away, they’ll soon learn it.

Guy very easily could have been who the ring went to over Hal, if it weren’t for Booster Gold’s time stream shenanigans causing him to be further than Hal was from the ring (which was how it was supposed to be, Booster was making sure things stayed how they were meant to). That’s all it came down to. Distance. He was also a candidate for John’s ring, but if I recall he was helping someone and lost out again.

And his creativity with his constructs and how quickly he can work with it is astounding.

(More on this topic also in Intelligence below)

Devotion & Reliabiltiy

“C’mon kid… can’t d-do this without you.”

Believe it or not, he’s a reliable partner both work-wise and in romance. He’s trusted to mentor new Lanterns, and is a high ranking Lantern himself for a reason. He’s rough around the edges, a little too forward, blunt and a tiny bit horny (…okay very horny) but all of that goes out the window when someone is in danger.

He cares for others despite how his persona may make it seem. He listens more than people think, and he understands others more than he lets on. A good example of this is actually in a silly comic about superhero dating. While he was showboating and being a bit of an arse, he retained every single thing she told him. (And for context, she was using him for an article about how BAD it would be to date a superhero— specifically him. Rude much?)

“Nothing’s gonna stop me from being at your side if you need someone or something.”

And to his partners he does show great care and love for them, even if he’d rather be seen as the tough guy.

So, yeah, despite it all there’s someone with a very large heart behind his attitude. He’s bold, he’s loud and far too confident, but you also know he’s someone you can turn to.

Intelligence

“I figured out the receptors in my brain I need to stimulate.”

This is one of the bigger points for me, because as much as he fucks around this man is incredibly intelligent. He’s been shown to deep dive into research, study and learn whenever he needs to. So much so his entire room was at one point a terrible mess.

But even more so this man was able to save himself from dying after being cut in half. I debated putting his in Willpower, but it’s more a testament to his quick thinking and knack for learning.

He was able to use his ring to recreate his lower body, which included all organs which functioned to keep him alive. Eventually he even perfected it enough so that it would take less effort to maintain. Then to stop himself from ever having to sleep (and his lower body subsequently disappearing and killing him) he figured out how to stimulate his brain with his power ring to release the chemicals he needed without actually having to sleep. He would have needed to figure this out within a day or two at most while dealing with the severe trauma he would have experienced.

So few people would have had the wherewithal to even save themselves to begin with, let alone trick your brain in such a way so quickly. And accurately.

And there’s so much more to his character than the shit end of the stick he was originally given. That’s not to say he isn’t an arrogant little bastard, but when people hear “Guy Gardner” they laugh, without realizing how much his character has evolved.

He’s able to be his bratty self, sing songs about his ass, showboat and still be a good person while maintaining that humour.

So yeah, I think more people need to give Guy Gardner a chance.

[merthurtrenches]

THIS! I can’t stress this enough!

Although the betrayal played a part in her character arc, Morgana WAS evil. Or let’s say, more of her father’s daughter. Yes she’s been wronged but her kindness was sometimes, I feel like selective. She was cunning ,opportunistic and manipulative under her surface but it was just a matter of time before it consumed her. She was waaaaayyy better than Uther of course and she was right to be scared too but she wanting to kill Uther was going a bit too far. Cause obviously Uther cared for her just as much as he did for Arthur. I don’t think Uther would kill her even if he found out.

And yes Merlin was putting his life on the line time and time again. He was a kid in a city that’d see him executed with a great burden and no one to TRULY guide him. Morgana was Uther’s ward and therefore her safety was secured. Merlin didn’t have that privilege.

And Morgana perfectly had the influence to make a change but she decided to betray Arthur instead. For the things he never did. You can’t tell me she was so pure of heart after all she did to Arthur and Gwen.

Gaius was old and paranoid by the fear under Uther’s rule. We can’t actually blame him for wanting to play it safe at his old age.

And the dragon as cryptic, vague and selfish as he is, he was right to warn Merlin about Morgana and Mordred. Because I feel like even if he wasn’t told about them, Merlin would still be paranoid as the time goes by. Cause well, if I was in love with someone the way Merlin was in love with Arthur, I’d be scared all the time too about some cruel joke of life would snatch them away from me. All is fair in love and war they said.

Also about Mordred becoming evil after Kara died, well Merlin had all the reasons too. He lost Freya, Lancelot, Will, Balinor all because, directly or indirectly as it was, Arthur. He had all the reasons but the love and devotion so powerful and beyond reasons that he stayed. (ARTHUR IT’S ABOUT DAMN TIME YOU COME BACK TO YOUR LOVE)

So, I've been reading this Merthur fic, and it nade me think about something that I think most people on the fandom would disagree on, but I would love to see if there are people who might agree with me.

Many people on the famdom think, that had Merlin told Morgana about his nagic when she confessed to hin about thinking that the fire that was in her room was caused by her doing magic, than it would've caused Morgana to stay good, and that Merlin owed it to her, to tell her about him having magic since birth.

Two things that I find wrong here: 1. I don't think that Merlin owed Morgana anything, especially telling her his most kept secret, one that could've ended up with him sentenced to death by the pyre. Merlin might've considered telling her, and yes, he was stopped by Gaius, but, still, Merlin was taught all his life that his magic should stay concealed, should not be revealed to anyone. Beacause if the wrong person found out, it could end in his death. That is a fear that could not go away fron a person. And yes, she might've been his friend at this point, but Merlin didn't want to tell anyone about his magic, beacause of fear for his life. And you can't blame him for not telling her about his magic. Heck, Merlin only told Arthur, his soulmate, at the end of the bloody series, and he cares more about Arthur's opinions on him, and hated lying to him more than lying to Morgana.

2. Remember the fact that Morgana almost killed Uther in season 1? She was starting to be less good at this point of the series, until she became the villan that we all know. What if Merlin would've told her, and then she could've decided to betray him when it fit her? If Morgana had this knowledge on season 3, even after the end of season 2, she would've made sure that Merlin woul've been sentenced to death by Uther. And I'n sorry, but I don't think that her knowing about his naguc, would've stopped her fron turning evil.

Would love to see if other people share my opinion, please comment.

[that-smallinjured-bowylamb]

Hello, nice person!

I’d like to ask for headcanons for Riddle, Deuce, Jade, Vil, Epel, Lilia, and Silver wherein they lose a bet with their lovely significant other and have to wear a maid’s dress that their S/O picks out for a week as payment for losing. If that’s too many characters for you to write or it’s too overwhelming, just Riddle, Deuce, Lilia, and Silver would be fine!

No pressure to answer this ask, take your time if you decide to write or feel free to ignore it! I just thought there’s no harm in asking!

Signed, 🫡🍞 (Soldier Loaf)

A/n: Hiii! Sorry if delayed! But ofc I'd love to put headcanons, Soldier Loaf !!! Lol, I was busy with my drawings, but I hope you enjoyed it! Oopsie, Loaf did you read my rules b4 asking?? Wheteves, I broke one of my own rules anyway 😔... 5 is the limit! I'll do the other ones in the next post (if I can)

💋🪽The winner takes it all, The loser gives it all💋🪽

Gender neutral, use of 'you'.

Characters: Riddle Rosehearts, Deuce Spade, Jade Leech, Lilia Vanrouge, Silver Vanrouge

Upcoming characters: Vil Scheonheit, Epel Felmier.

Genre: Romantic, fluff, relationship?? (Oops! I think you forgot to read the rules... it's okay! Riddle doesn't mind !! he'll let this slide :>)

Summary: He lost the bet, now he has to wear that maid dress you picked out for him. For a week straight. Oh dear.

Warning ⚠️: Grammer, OOC(?), my rules broke b4 I noticed it, not much to be warned abt except the use of 'you', Jade might be a little weird, slight cussy (my fav part of the day), it might be short, goodness there are a lot of unanswered asks in my inbox !!!

Riddle Rosehearts

Okay so maybe he shouldn't have accepted it, but he did anyways, I mean, your his s/o, of course, he'd accept your request. So when he lost? Never had he ever felt so much embarrassment. And the fact he had to wear a maid dress for a week.

Dear rose, he loves you, he really does. But what in the great queen of hearts are you making him out of this? What is the purpose, rose...

Please don't look at his face, he's clearly normal. No, he's not red, please stop teasing him already. If he hears his dormmates laughing? OFF WITH YOUR HEADS!

The view could only be for you, no one else. It'd be embarrassing. But hey, at least he looks adorable in one! It's those long skirt maid outfits, nothing too sexual. It's cute.

Yes, he does the thing. The heart thingy idk what to call it omg. BUT HE LOOKS SO HUGGABLE WITH HIS POUTT AKSJSJDJD

WISJDJJDNSKSJDNSNKWNDKDKSJBDCKJSNDKDJDJ-

Deuce Spade

Okay, so what he didn't expect was you to come by, ask him if he could play a game with you, it was a challenge, but he didn't knew. So, when you explained the rules, he was fueled to play. But the fact you were better than him in that game? Baffling. The fact he also had to wear a maid dress for a week was mad embarrassing. Are you and Ace trying to humiliate him behind the scenes???

The whole week he had to wear a maid dress to school, my bro looked less intimidating with the scowl. Oh, but the outfit was meant for you so dw, your lucky he loves you.

....Just don't expect him to wear that ever.

OMS NO HES NOT GOING TO SERVE YOU-

Jade Leech

Oya. You're quite brave, nagging him to play a silly game of yours. But, as you wish, dear~

As you explained the rules and how it works (buy let's say you were vague on some parts) I'm not sure how you fucking manage to make THE JADE LEECH LOSE but, whatever method works. So when he lost, he sighed. (<-he lost on purpose but he don't know what's coming)

Then you told him to wear a maid dress for a week. Aren't you brave? The fact your asking your boyfriend, no, a literal LEECH, to wear a maid dress?

Fuck yeah he's doing it, I mean he's a butler so why not switch the roles a little bit? So here he is, wearing a silly maid outfit he wasn't meant to wear (but have you seen those fanarts of him wearing it? Damn, he might be better than me) and yes, he is, at your service. Order him however you'd like.

And then he gets cuddles. Bc why not, love, love, soft Jade. (<-I will wait for the day someone tags me in a soft Jade fic lmao/hj)

Oh, but don't think you're off the hook, [Name]. It'll be his turn to win next time you ask. Fufufu~

Lilia Vanrouge (hi Hana 🩷)

Just know he might've been the one that asked you to play a challenge with him ngl. Knowing this guy is known for mischief, why not he play a little game with his precious bat, hmm?~ ♡

So when you agreed to play the game with him, he's excited, for very obvious reasons. Placing down the rules, getting prepared, and strategizing on how to win, you've managed somehow.

Anddd, after maybe 4-6 rounds non-stop (<-at the game) he... lost? Well, isn't this surprising? I wonder what you'll make him do!

In comes your devious plan to make him wear a maid outfit for a week. Well, what a peculiar challenge, but if that's what his precious bat wants, then he'll do it! All for you!~

So he comes to school the next day wearing a maid outfit, everyone is glancing at him, some mistaking him for a girl and tries to flirt with him, but no, he goes: "Ah, my apologies, but this is only reserved for my lovely s/o!~ So sorry, but, I am taken, by yours truly!" *Skips away with the truffle layers just bouncing* I swear his maid outfit is soo adorable I can't-

He shows up to your classroom all dressed in the outfit and was like, "Look! Look! Don't I look adorable???" Yes, you are Lils. No need to barge in during exams 🎀

But, nonetheless he just floats over you with the cute outfit (did I mentioned if the maid outfit had ribbons on the skirt?)

Yeah, that week wasn't him getting flustered, it was you. 🫶

Silver Vanrouge

So he fairly lost because he either didn't focus or just almost dozed off and was too late to do it the last second. He sighs and embraces for the dare that might embarrass him.

An smirking Lilia, dumbfounded Sebek, and astonished Malleus was all looking at Silver.

Wearing a maid outfit.

"...HUMAN! WHAT IS THIS!? WHY ARE YOU WEARING A MAID OUTFIT?? DO YOU KNOW HOW EMBARRASSING IT'LL BE FOR WAKA-" "Phahahhahahaha! Oh, dear Silver- *Wheeze*" "...How peculiar..." the three of them were laughing on the inside [<-except his father- Lilia, though] man, why must you do this to him?

He sleeps around campus the whole week he wore the outfit, it was embarrassing sure, but he's glad you were smiling at your own antics. You're lovely, and he'll let you do anything as long as you aren't hurt or sad by it.

He wonders if this is worth it, though. Oh well, it is. You smiled at it, he smiled at you. That's all that matters. Now, he'll just dream about his and your future together. Even in this outfit...

The End.

Enjoy this pic of Rook with hangers that he's using for practice. Idk what this guy is on.

[inqti]

Off duty Caleb. A night with Caleb

Pairs: MC/fem reader x Caleb

Genre: fluffy, gf/bf Caleb and mc, long distance relationship, slight smut??, yearning Caleb of course

Note: The picture credit to the owner. I’m so sorry I couldn’t find their username. It’s on X but l lost their name T_T. Also if any of it is inaccurate I'm sorry in advance. I'm still adjusting to learn about each LADS persona. (4 months player LADS player T_T I know I'm so late to the game)

Caleb whose working as a colonel barely had time to eat his own meal would put on a leave for a day just to visit his lovely girlfriend that’s been living in Linkon, his sweetheart he’s been adoring and cherish since his childhood.

Caleb who had the key to your place easily access whenever he came to visit. His visit time usually at night when you are in your beauty sleep. And his reason? It’s easier to surprised you.

Caleb who still had his colonel uniform on, not even bother to take it off, because he knows you like it on him, carefully sat by your side as his hand gently brush off the strain of hair from your face.

“Pipsqueak… I want to see your pretty face, please?” He would whisper these phrase every time he came to visit you. And of course he never fail to wake you up from these sweet whisper and sensations effect he always had on you.

Caleb would either surprised you with a back hug beside your bed or completely hover above you waiting for you to wake up for him to finally get his chance to do all the things he’s been wanting to do while being away from you.

“I miss you so much pips..” he spoke this words like it’s his daily routine he couldn’t skip when he dipped onto your bed beside you giving a big spoon hug. He would always whisper this into your ears and his hands would creep up underneath your shirt and automatically cupped your boobs giving you a massage like it’s his duty. You couldn’t help but to moan to his touch, and he loves it every times.

Caleb would flipped you over with his evol just so he could get a good look on his sweet girlfriend and give you a small kiss on your forehead and slowly he would go down to your eyelids, your nose and your lips. And gently move down to your neck sucking on your sensitive spots that he knew so well.

Caleb wouldn’t mind you sitting right on him or he’s hovering above. All he wants is to shower you with affection even if it’s just for the short night visit.

Caleb would take this chance to have his way with you, and you? Of course you would let him has his way but with a condition where he had to beg for it.

“Please honey? I want to see you…all of you, every inches of you. I haven’t seen you in such a long time.” he would give you that yearning look in his eye, the puppy eyes where you couldn’t resist when he wanted to something from you either it's a kiss or stripping of your clothes by his own hands.

Caleb would let his dog tag that you’ve given him before he left for college years dangling it down when he hover above you to show who is his ownership and who he belong to.

“Laid down for me honey, be a good girl and spread for me yeah? Yeah.” he would sweet talk you, coax you, praise you until you are all weak to him and surrender to him.

Caleb who would try to restrain himself at first, trying to be gentle with you but of course his he ain't no much better than those weak solider himself.

Caleb would whisper those sweet nothing words for you while he's being relentless with you, making you cry out his name, moaning, begging him to be gentle yet that's seem to only fuel him more.

"Pips...I love you so much" "God...I love you pipsqueak." "You're Mine...mine only pips. I'll make sure you'll remember it" "I'm sorry pips I can't hold back" "I love you I love you...say that you love me too"

Caleb would leave kisses and bite mark on every part of your body claiming you are his. In return he would let you leave your love bites on him too, and specially his neck area he'd love it when you show him your passiveness over him claiming him as yours.

Caleb would give you kisses and hug after your intense session with him and a quick clean up for the after care.

Caleb would wake up early to clean up the mess from last night and made breakfast for you whose still in your beauty slumber

Caleb would give you a breakfast in bed and help you ease out your soreness after keeping up with his relentless action and his high sex drive that made him went on round after round.

And of course he would make a call to your work place to put you on leave for sick day knowing your condition that you wouldn't be able to walk properly.

[cloudcountry]

*shaking* Auburn! auburn we need some platonic BFF headcanons! Im craving! you can literally pick whoever you want or randomise it

SUMMARY: being best friends with tohma, luca, zenji, and lyca.

COMMENTS: i loved writing these because i have very very Large platonic feelings for these characters. like i love them so much theyre my everything.

TAGLIST: @as1iiiwhaa @astralsocfactory

Being Tohma’s best friend means being able to keep secrets. He won’t tell you everything he’s up to, but you will hear more than most, and you need to be able to keep that under wraps. Trust that everything he does is for your sake.

If you happen to have any medications that you need to take, he will set reminders in his phone to make sure he texts you about it. This will happen more and more depending on how forgetful you are.

Tohma is a very caring best friend, actually. I know most people see him as the type to do his own thing, but I don’t see him that way at all. You need space, he’s giving it. You want to talk, he’ll give you all of his attention.

Heaven forbid you’re in danger. He’ll jump to your defense faster than you can blink, uncaring if he gets hurt in the process or not. You can yell at him all you want, he’ll still do it again. You’re precious to him, and he needs to protect that.

Speaking of protectors, Luca is just like Tohma in that regard. He’s more likely to get lost in it though, stabbing the anomaly over and over and over until it’s a pile of bloody gore on the ground if it tries to hurt you.

If anything, he views himself as your older brother. It doesn’t matter if you’re older than him or not, you’re his sibling figure now, and he needs to protect you in the ways he wasn’t able to protect his brother.

Be prepared to be spoiled rotten despite your protests. It’s partly because he cares about you and partly because Luca just really doesn’t understand normal price ranges for gifts...you’re gonna have to take him to a convenience store or something.

He’s the type of friend to call you good morning and goodnight if you’re far apart from each other. Even better if the two of you can do group calls with Kaito, since he and Luca are pretty much a package deal at this point...

Being Zenji’s best friend means sitting in with Haku when he films the music and stories Zenji creates. It means getting a front row seat to all of his absolute genius, and you’d better praise him just as much as he praises you!

It may be alarming for some of Hotarubi’s students to hear your voice and the rumored haunted biwa / doll just chilling on the docks. It’s alright though, you’d much rather have Zenji know that you’re unashamed of being around him than keep up your reputation with general students.

Be prepared to have songs composed about you and characters based on you. When you’re close to Zenji, he won’t hesitate to scold you if you’ve done something he thinks is bizarre (ahem ahem, like something Haku would do, for example) but he does adore you to bits and pieces, even the more scandalous parts!

Easily one of the best people to go to for love advice. He’ll never judge you for your taste in partners and will encourage you to confess to them as soon as possible!! He wants nothing more than to see you happy. <3

Being Lyca’s best friend means being on the same level as Subaru. I hope you’re ready to take on that responsibility—people will begin to avoid you because of your connection to him, and you need to be someone who is ready to defend him.

As you would expect, being so close to Lyca will get you closer to Subaru as well. He really appreciates everything you do in looking out for him, like during the mission Professor Moby sent them on when the staff cut his cheek...he heard all about the earful you gave them.

Honestly, Lyca won’t really understand why you get so emotional over him. He understands getting angry, but if you’re the type to cry when you’re pissed he’ll be confused. He’s doing his best, though—Lyca will hold you until you calm down. It works for him, so it must work for you, right?

While he eats, Lyca gets a little overzealous, so you’ll have to clean up his face more often than not! He doesn’t mind it so much after a while, and will eventually get to the point where he presents his face to you after he’s finished a meal. All you had to do was tell him that it’s not condescending, and that this is just how people care for each other.