#*withering from being touch starved*

[dalishthunder]

I am now accepting cuddle buddy applications

[anglbunny]

BEING MAD AT CHOSO

fluff, choso being pouty, no warnings

You haven't spoken to him in three hours. Not one word. Not even a glance. And Choso is unraveling. He's following you from room to room, dragging his feet like a Victorian child ghost, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands, expression full of regret and panic.

“Babe… Please.”

“I didn’t mean to eat your leftovers. I forgot they were yours.”

“I was hungry and you always say I don’t eat enough—this is your fault, technically—wait no—WAIT COME BACK—”

You ignore him. In his defense, it wasn't his fault, you never directly mentioned the food was yours or not to eat it..

He audibly whines. Five minutes later, you hear a soft knock at the bathroom door. “Baby? Can I come in?” nothing “…I brought you Takis.”

“I’ll feed them to you one by one like a servant if you forgive me.”

“…I’ll even let you paint my nails again.” he pauses, chewing his lower lip, "you can make my hair again and um.. we can wear matching hello kitty clothes.."

Still nothing.He slumps dramatically against the door like he’s in a music video. “I can’t live like this. I’ll die. I’m withering. You’re actually killing me right now—” You open the door just a crack. “Did you just say you’re withering?”

He straightens. Brightens. Perks up like a flower getting sunlight. “You spoke to me.”

“I missed your voice. Say something mean again, I don’t care. Just say something.”

You sigh, arms crossed.

“I told you not to touch my dumplings.” He nods, remorseful. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll buy you twenty dumplings. I’ll be a dumpling if that helps.”

“…You’ll be a dumpling.”

He shrugs. “For you? I’d be anything.” You’re trying so hard not to laugh. But his eyes are big, his bottom lip is out, and he’s offering you hot chips and undying loyalty. How can you stay mad? You step out. He immediately wraps his arms around you like he’s been starved of touch for years.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into your shoulder. “Please never give me the silent treatment again. I literally saw my life flash before my eyes.” You snort. “I was only mad for, like, two hours.” He pulls back to look you in the eyes, dead serious.

“Longest two hours of my life.”

TL: @samm1e13 @syleepy @werfiedeii @mikemsmm @yanderebluelockfan @cyberheartrebel @arwawawa2 @valexqpt @snowsilver2000 @mitsurisupporter @meikstv @ravenbc @mihyas-dieehefrau @laslowchan

A/N: haven't wrote anything fluffy in a minute

ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.

Masterlist

[savvymantis]

Could I ask how Ratchet, Bulkhead, Wheeljack and Optimus would react to their human s/o sighing dramatically near them and saying “Sitting here. Unkissed. When will it end?..” just silly fluffy stuff with the big robo guys!! 

Also do you have a character limit on requests?? If the characters listed is too many could you do just Bulkhead and Ratchet?? Thanks!

Living for Loving

I am assuming this is the TFP universe. Feel free to resend the ask if I'm wrong tho!

Ratchet:

Ratchet sighs, tired optics trailing to where you're laid out on the nearby couch. With everyone out on patrol, he's left alone with your antics, freed now that the embarrassment of an audience is gone.

You give him your saddest face, cheek squished against the couch arm. "Humans need affection to live, you know."

Ratchet scoffs. "Please."

"It's true!" You say with a pout. "Several studies have been done on the necessity of companionship and affection needed in the creation and sustainability of a healthy individual."

The rush of words, while sounding correct, still strike Ratchet as something you just made up to cajole kisses out of him. Even if you are being honest, the kids all smothered you in hugs before they left, so you're not dying just yet from lack of attention.

"Ratchet!" You whine to him, and his antenna twitches. "Please? I'm sitting here so unkissed, unloved! Do you even care-!?"

A squeal escapes you as two large servos scoop you up. Ratchet grouches, low grumbles in a language older than the human race itself, but his intake brushes over your cheeks. You smooth your own hands over his face, peppering warm metal in smooches.

And despite the show of irritation, there's an audible hiss as he relaxes into your touch, air rushing from his pent-up frame like a sigh of relief.

Bulkhead:

"So you want me dead?"

Bulkhead wilts. "You know it's not that, sweetspark."

"Then why must I lie here?" You lament, fake hitches to your little voice sending stabs right into his spark. "Unkissed. Unloved. Dying, when my beloved is right here, refusing me life's simplest pleasures?"

Bulkhead doesn't know what to do with himself. He's already late for patrol, that plus Miko has been demanding a joyride today. He really needs to leave the moment he's done refueling, and kissing you would mean waiting for the energon to leave his intake, so he doesn't hurt you. He doesn't have that kind of time.

He throws back his energon. "Energon is dangerous for you."

"And my withering away isn't!?" You demand, up into a squeaky register now. Bulkhead sulkingly shuffles past you towards the washracks. "I just want my goodbye kiss!"

"Bleh." Bulkhead spits out the water, the taste of energon washed away. He turns to you, and finds you standing now, reaching for him. Bulkhead lifts you up, nuzzling into the soft press of your lips.

"Be safe."

"Always."

Wheeljack:

"Woe is meeeee!"

Wheeljack flicks a digit along his datapad, scrolling through endless mission briefs and rules. It's boring, but he has his reasons for actually trying to do his work right now.

"Jackie, you're killing meeeeee!"

Wheeljack stretches, holding the pad above his head so he could recline and keep reading.

"You want me dead! You want me neglected and starving and dead and buried and gone-"

"You done?" Wheeljack asks you, but you just turn your nose up.

"No. You also want me suffering." With a huff, you nod to him. "Now I'm done. Can I have my kiss now?"

Wheeljack laughs heartily. You're too cute for your own good, the way your cheeks puff out when you're mad at him, eyes big and watery as you whine for his attention. It feels good to be wanted so desperately, but it feels even better to dangle kisses just out of your reach to hear your dramatic complaining.

"I'll die without my kisses." You warn him.

"That sounds interesting. Mind if I watch?"

You're already wiggling off the berth. "That's it. I'll get my kisses from Smokescreen instead."

"Wait!!"

Optimus:

For all the time he's spent, emotions buried beneath duty and the need to appear strong, Optimus is surprisingly receptive to your playful wallowing and dramatic lamentations. His smile brushes against the warm softness of your bare stomach, low rolling chuckles vibrating his chassis as you daintily throw your arm across your head.

"I have never been so neglected." You cry, despite how Optimus kisses along the bend of your hips. "Oh, when will my big strong mech return from the war?"

"I will always return to you." Optimus murmurs, your giggles gracing his audials.

"You return but yet I still lie here, without smooches." You stroke a hand over his crest, grinning when he gazes up at you, optics soft and adoring. "You enjoy seeing me laid so low?"

"In some situations." Optimus says, taking advantage of your momentary bashfulness to seal your together in a smoldering kiss. "Has that quelled your agony?"

"Nope." You say, popping the P so he laughs. "Gonna need, hmmm. . . twelve more." Optimus kisses you again, pulling back to see you nodding sagely. "Twelve. . . probably more, though."

"You may have as many as you want."

"Yay!"

[eviesaurusrex]

tale as old as time | X. Riorson

Xaden Riorson x Aurelia Melgren (OC)

summary: Usually, he’s the dangerous, unapproachable wingleader in public, but since a few days, Xaden Riorson can’t bare to be apart from Aurelia Melgren.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: none really, mentions of past injuries, dragons, Xaden being touch-starved after admitting his feelings, Xaden’s shadows, Tairn being Tairn, two idiots in love, childhood friends-to-lovers, not entirely proofread

author’s note: Lately, I really am all over the place with my writing for fandoms lol. This could turn into a series of oneshots if people are interested—I can also switch this up into a typical reader-insert starring YN, just let me know!

divider by @enchanthings-a

It started right after Threshing.

First, she almost didn’t heed it no mind, not even realizing a change in his daily routines. Sometimes, she felt his eyes lingering on her whenever they passed one another in the hallways of Basgiath on their way to classes or formation in the morning. Other times, she felt him walking closely next to her, the backs of their hands brushing against one another, letting sparks of electricity travel through her bones, dancing on her skin.

All of those incidents, Aurelia categorized as mere blips in reality—undoubtedly enjoying them, but knowing they would not be present for the remainder of their days at the War College.

But then, the shadows started to act up.

Rea knew how masterfully Xaden wielded his signet, being in total control of it; she had watched him train with Garrick and the others and had even gotten a taste of his skills herself. So, for them to act up all of a sudden as soon as she was near a particularly dark corner?

Highly unlikely.

The day on which she woke up with one of those shadowy, smoky tendrils almost lovingly wrapped around her wrist like a delicate bracelet? She knew something had shifted, that something was certainly different than prior to Threshing. And she started to notice more and more:

Xaden casually walking down the hallway of her dorm floor by utter coincidence when she opened her door to head out for breakfast? The way his hand almost naturally found its spot on the small of her back, resting heavily and comfortingly there until they reached the door to the dining hall, his fingers pressing softly into the fabric of her uniform before letting go?

His long-lingering glances across the tables atop the leader platform now so obvious, she had to be blind (or dead) not to notice them?

The way they sat in comfortable silence on the parapet on a particularly starry night because he knew how much she loved stargazing? Hands brushing against one another on the withered stone, one finger wrapped around the other’s? The heavy feeling of his gaze on her profile while she watched the spectacle in the dark-tinted sky in awe and wonder?

She really had to be blind not to see it.

On this particular morning, Aurelia cradled a cup of coffee between both her hands, eyes focused on the dark-haired wingleader as he ate his scrambled eggs while being in deep conversation with Garrick. Taking a revitalizing sip, she patiently waited, smiling softly as Tairn seemed to wake up and growled in her mind. “Your thoughts of the wingleader disturbed my sleep, Stormy One. Keep this up, and I might not be inclined to continue to tolerate him near me.” The Melgren rolled her eyes at that. “Oh, please. I wouldn’t wager my marital bliss because I keep on fantasizing about incinerating the rider of my mate,” she shot back with a humorous tone down their bond, still letting her smile like a fool.

It was exhilarating to be chosen by a dragon, and Aurelia was sure she would keep on grinning like an idiot until the day of her last ride.

The black dragon huffed into her mind. “First: The bond of mates is far more superior to the human concept of marriage, girl. And second: Do not dare think of your last flight—already. We have years upon years, Stormy One. Your skills are too refined to be wasted on an early death. Instead, continue to dream of the rider who is now staring at you—it’s far less insulting.” It was almost as if Tairn chuckled deeply as her eyes fell on Xaden again, watching his onyx eyes soften ever so slightly as he reveled in the attention she granted him.

A small smile danced across her lips as she took another sip of her cooling coffee, her eyes never leaving his handsome face, remembering his whispered words after Threshing when the healers had worked on her bruised and battered body, thinking she wasn’t conscious enough to recall any of it. Until the day before, she had accounted those words to the delirious state she had been in due to the blood loss, but now, with the shadows accompanying her and the expression on his face? The evidence of his shift in person toward her? Aurelia was sure she didn’t dream up his confession.

They held each other’s gazes locked until most of the cadets had left for classes and training, and only then did the woman rise and leave for Battle Brief herself, waiting for him in the hallway. Leaning against a wall, she had her arms crossed loosely in front of her black-clad chest, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as he finally made his way out as well, spotting her instantly. Xaden walked over to her with long, purposeful strides, graceful and lethal as ever, fingers gently twitching as his stare fell from her eyes, raking over the lower part of her face.

“How are you feeling? Is the soreness bearable?”

His question was asked quietly, his voice soft and filled with a warmth barely anyone would receive within these walls, and that knowledge made the butterflies in her stomach whirl like a tornado. He had always been soft to her, ever since their first meeting as children, and he had continued to be like that until they had been separated by fate. Perhaps he still was the boy she once knew—just buried beneath everything he had to be for everyone else.

“Good. Better. It still somewhat aches when I get up too fast, but other than that…” She trailed off when his hand crept closer and touched the spot right next to her navel where she had been run through with a sword during Threshing, a scar now left behind. “But…,” she started again, making him look her directly in the eyes, a teasing smile creeping onto her lips. “I would feel much better if you’d explain this.” And with that, she pulled one of her arms out of their hold across her chest, holding up the wrist with the shadow still in place.

She watched Xaden swallow, eyes lingering on the black, translucent bracelet before he stared down at her again. A hand rose and softly wrapped itself around her fingers, pulling her hand close until it landed on his chest, right above his steadily beating heart. It pushed all the air out of her lungs; her breath hitched as she witnessed the vulnerability the fearsome wingleader showed her at this particular moment.

Xaden watched her intently as he murmured: “Do you mind it? Do they… disgust you? Bother you?” Without having to think about it, Aurelia slowly shook her head, never leaving him out of sight. “Why would you think that? I think they’re beautiful. Immaculate. Watching you wield them is like watching art,” she confessed, still slightly breathless, eyes wide with curiosity and… doubt. Did she never show him what she thought about him, about his talents and skills? Perhaps it had been drowned out by everything happening around them, and a pang of guilt settled in her chest. “Art, hm?” Blinking, Aurelia watched his smile grow, and the guilt lessened for now, making her slap his broad shoulder playfully. “Don’t tease me about my choice of words.”

The Riorson chuckled quietly before his arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her flush against his high-towering form. “So, you want an explanation?” His voice had turned into a raspy whisper, and all Aurelia could do was to nod, eyes enthralled by his gaze, her heart beating against her ribcage, trying to escape. “I wanted to make sure you’re all right, Rea, day and night, when I’m here and when I’m not. I wanted to feel close to you at all times, reminding myself every hour of the day that you’re still here, with me.” The fingers pressed against his chest gripped onto his uniform, burying themselves into the midnight black fabric, holding herself up at his steady confession. “Threshing made me realize something I have forgotten for a while: I cannot lose you. I cannot live without you, Aurelia Melgren. If you wouldn’t have made it, it’s safe to say I would have succumbed alongside you. You…” He took a steadying breath with closed eyes before he bent at his waist, coming closer and closer until their foreheads were gently pressed to one another, onyx black crashed against periwinkle blue.

“You are the keeper of all that I feel, of all that I am. One word and I will never speak of it again. One word and I will lock everything away, remaining your friend as I have always been. But…” And with that, he pulled her even closer. “But if your feelings have changed over the years and I was too stupid or blind to see it… Please, tell me and put me out of this… this… misery.” His voice broke at the last word, and it almost hurt her physically to hear his suffering she never knew about.

When has everything between them changed? Aurelia knew when it had changed for her—years ago during a sparring session with him and Garrick back in Aretia when no one had thought about needing to separate. Yes, her father never liked her association with the Riorson’s, but her mother had been from Tyrrendor and called Fen Riorson one of her oldest friends. And on that day, when Xaden had beamed at her proudly for shooting her first arrow successfully, she had known and protected that little secret of hers until… today.

Softly, almost lovingly, Aurelia let the tip of her nose rub against his, staring into his deep eyes and seeing all the emotions she had always hoped to witness on his face, swimming there, freely visible. “Perhaps stupid, perhaps blind, perhaps a bit of both,” the Melgren chuckled, making him roll his eyes at her but turning serious for this particular moment. “You were never just a friend to me, Xaden. You were never just my most trusted companion and confidant—there was always something different between us. I felt… safe with you, protected even. I could be who I was, not the one others desperately wanted me to be. I was… free. You gave me freedom.”

And freedom was the one thing Aurelia had longed for her entire life.

Xaden stared at her unmoving; he almost didn’t dare to breathe when one of her hands cupped his cheek, the pad of her thumb caressing his cheekbone.

“I have always loved you, Xaden Riorson, and I will always love you until my last dying breath as a dragon rider. If you’ll have me…—”

She couldn’t ask the question, not with his lips crashing against hers without restraint, without fear. He was as wild in his claim as he was in his fight, making her his then and there, incinerating every trace of every other man she had allowed to touch her in her life. He unraveled her in a dark corner and put her back together, infusing her with love, passion, and freedom with every move of his lips, with ever raspy sound escaping his throat when her fingers tangled themselves in his dark strands, tucking him closer and closer, until they where almost one.

With a gasp for air, Xaden parted with a heavy breath, chest heaving and heart galloping under the palm of her hand. “If I could, I would make you a Riorson on the spot,” he mumbled, lips pressing kisses to her cheeks and her swollen lips with utmost tenderness. “Slow your dragons, love,” Aurelia’s chuckled words followed. “Let us survive this death sentence of a War College first before we enter a far less superior bond they will most definitely mock.” The man started to grin at her words, pulling her close into his chest. “Did you already get that lecture, hm?” Nodding, she gently pushed back his hair, trying to make it presentable again. “Oh, I have. And I imagine there will be more coming sooner rather than later now that we…” She didn’t dare say the words, but Xaden wasn’t as hesitant—not in the slightest.

“Now that we are in a relationship, mo chroi? You can say it—the title won’t bite you.” Shoving him away, Aurelia showed him her tongue, but letting him take her hand in his, allowing him to hold onto it. “Whatever. Those dragons are menaces, and I’m afraid he will take over the fatherly talk in lack of a present father to do that. And I’m not sure what alternative I would prefer.” As if Tairn had only waited to share his input, his voice echoed through her mind. “I do not know what you dare to imply there, Stormy One, but mind you, I would only propose exceptional measures in order not to procreate ahead of your time. We have goals to accomplish, rider, battles to win, wars to end. No time for… frolicking with your shadow wielder.”

She couldn’t hold back the laugh at the growled words and let go of Xaden’s hand in order to wrap her arm around his waist, claiming her spot at his side, his arm instinctively snaking around her shoulders. “Tairn warned me not to frolic with you, shadow wielder,” she explained at his cocked eyebrow and smiled with closed eyes as he bent down to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “I will keep that in mind, but don’t you think I won’t put my hands on you, Stormy One.”

Walking beside him felt good. Freeing. Empowering. It got into her head, she thought, but it did not matter. She had rarely felt this wonderful.

“Has Sgaeyl spilled Tairn’s secret?” Xaden chuckled humorously as they walked the empty hallways toward Battle Brief. “She did—unintentionally, I think. But it is fitting. You are a tornado, a force of nature to be reckoned with. And with that dragon at your side now? With me? We will be unstoppable, love.” Teasingly, Rea nudged his hip with hers as they stopped in front of the massive double doors leading into the largest classroom Basgiath offered. “Do not over-exaggerate, Xaden darling. You sound like you have an appetite for conquering the world,” she whispered as he bent down again, lips ghosting over hers. “Oh, I have an appetite for many things, mo chroi. And I’ll show you each and every single one of them.”

Kissing Xaden, Aurelia silenced him with flushing cheeks before opening the door to slip inside the now-settling-down cadets. She intended to make her way down toward her usual seat next to her best friend, Merope. Xaden had different plans, though.

His hand snatched hers, and without uttering another word, the tall man tugged her after him, making his row scoot up a seat to create room for her next to Garrick, who watched the interaction with gleaming interest. His cheeky grin was oh so prominent, Aurelia hit his cheek with the flat side of her quill, shaking her head slowly, almost threateningly. “Don’t you dare utter a single word,” she whisper-hissed at him, cocking an eyebrow when he dared to open his mouth, watching him reconsider his next move. “I just wanted to say I told you so, but whatever.” Grinning triumphantly, Garrick winked at her, chuckling when her hand hit him multiple times on his shoulder. “You are unbelievable,” was all she huffed in slight annoyance, forcing herself to look in front, trying to ignore all the stares and the whispers at her new spot. They seemed to increase in volume when everyone bore witness to Xaden Riorson moving his hand in her direction, grabbing her thigh under the small table each seat had sat in front of it, squeezing it tenderly, and leaning in her direction.

“Forget about them, all of them. It doesn’t matter what they think, okay?” He knew her too well, but in their case, she couldn’t give a fuck. Leaning closer herself, Aurelia pressed a lingering kiss to his jawline—it was the only part of his handsome face she could reach without making a fool out of herself—and smiled with a teasing gleam in her eyes. “You won’t get rid of me that easy, Riorson,” the Melgren promised, making him hum in contentment, his hand settling heavily on her thigh—and it would stay there for the remainder of this class and every other they shared.

“I intend to keep you, Melgren. I intend to keep you for a very long time.”

Thank you all for reading! Please consider leaving a like, a comment, and a reblog. Tell me your thoughts about this fic and/or ideas for potential new fanfictions ♡

[izzih22]

Could u write something about azzi trying to do homework and Paige keeps bothering her so she kicks her out of the room but Paige gets upset and once azzi finishes she has to get Paige to not be mad at her anymore

Just Five More Minutes

Note: It’s A long one😱

Azzi was locked in.

Glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose, hoodie sleeves pushed up to her elbows, textbook open beside her and a half-empty mug of coffee at arm’s reach. Her laptop sat in front of her, cursor blinking on a half-finished paragraph, and her brain was chewing through the last pieces of a paper that had already eaten her alive all week.

She didn’t even notice the door crack open.

“Azzi…” came a singsong voice. Soft, dramatic, already full of trouble.

Azzi exhaled without turning. “Hi, babe.”

“Whatcha doing?” Paige asked, even though it was obvious. She padded into the room in thick socks and a sleep shirt that hung halfway down her thighs. Her hair was pulled up messily, like she hadn’t even tried to tame it after their night practice.

“Working,” Azzi said simply, eyes still on her screen.

Paige leaned on the desk, draping herself over the edge like she might melt into it. “Still? I feel like you’ve been doing that for years.”

Azzi finally glanced up. “It’s been forty-five minutes.”

“That’s basically a decade.”

Azzi’s lips twitched. “Baby, I really need to finish this.”

“I need to cuddle,” Paige replied immediately, placing a hand over her chest like she was genuinely heartbroken. “I’m touch-starved. I’m wasting away.”

“You literally laid on top of me for like an hour earlier.”

“That was hours ago,” Paige said. “You’re being cold now. I’m feeling rejected. Abandoned. Betrayed.”

Azzi bit her lip, trying not to smile. Paige was pouting, full-blown bottom lip out, eyes big and wounded, like a puppy that had been kicked out in the rain. It was almost unfair how cute she could be when she wanted something.

“Five more minutes,” Azzi said gently. “Seriously, I’m almost done. Let me just finish this paragraph, then I’m all yours.”

“Five minutes?” Paige echoed, horrified. “You’re telling me I have to go back to that cold, empty bed alone?”

Azzi’s fingers kept typing. “Yes.”

“Oh my god. You’re heartless.”

Azzi smiled to herself and shook her head, trying to focus, trying to ignore the way Paige was now walking behind her chair, lightly dragging her fingers across Azzi’s shoulders. A warm shiver shot down her spine.

“Don’t,” Azzi warned softly.

“I didn’t do anything,” Paige said, all innocence. “I’m just appreciating my girl. You’re so smart. So focused. So sexy when you’re grinding like this.”

Azzi let out a breath through her nose. Paige leaned down, arms sliding around her from behind, lips brushing the shell of her ear.

“Come to bed, pretty girl.”

“Paige, seriously—I’m almost done.”

“Mmm.” Paige kissed her neck, then her shoulder. “You smell good.”

“Paige.”

“I’ll be so good. I’ll hold you real close and not even try anything—unless you want me to.”

Azzi groaned and turned her face away from the kisses. “You’re the worst.”

“You love me,” Paige mumbled into her hoodie.

“I do,” Azzi admitted with a smile. “But right now, I need you to leave so I can finish.”

That made Paige pull back a little. “…Like, leave the room?”

Azzi turned in her chair, finally facing her. “Yes.”

Paige gasped like she’d been shot. “You’re kicking me out?!”

“You’re distracting me! I’ve re-read the same sentence six times!”

Paige clutched her chest. “I’m literally just standing here loving you. Is that a crime?”

Azzi gave her a look. “Out.”

“But what if I wither away out there?”

“You’ll survive.”

“I won’t.”

Azzi was already nudging her toward the door. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Only because I love you so much and you’re denying me physical affection,” Paige said as she was gently shoved out of the room. “This is abuse.”

“Five minutes!” Azzi said, pointing at her watch. “Then I’m all yours.”

The door shut.

And silence fell.

Azzi sighed and sat back down, smiling to herself. Paige was ridiculous. Loving, annoying, beautiful, ridiculous. Azzi loved every second of it, even when she was trying to be serious. Especially then.

She finished her paper ten minutes later.

When she opened the bedroom door and peeked out, the apartment was dark except for the soft glow of the TV in the living room. Paige was curled up on the couch under a fuzzy blanket, arms crossed, pointedly not looking toward the hallway.

Azzi padded over in her socks and leaned on the edge of the couch.

“Hey.”

Paige didn’t move.

“Paige.”

No response.

Azzi leaned in closer, poking her. “Seriously?”

“I’m grieving,” Paige muttered. “My girlfriend told me to get out and left me to die alone in a cold hallway.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, fighting back a laugh. “You were on the couch. With snacks.”

“Emotional snacks.”

Azzi climbed onto the couch and crawled straight into Paige’s lap, wrapping her arms around her neck and burying her face into the crook of her shoulder.

“I missed you,” she whispered.

Paige tried to hold onto the drama, but the second Azzi cuddled into her, it crumbled. “You smell like lavender and printer ink.”

“You smell like popcorn and jealousy.”

“I’m not jealous. I’m wounded. Deeply.”

Azzi kissed her jaw. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m in love.”

Azzi pulled back just enough to look her in the eye, her expression softening. “I mean it. I’m sorry I kicked you out. I was trying to focus. But now I just want you.”

Paige tilted her chin up, smirking. “Oh, now you want me.”

“Always want you,” Azzi whispered, pressing their foreheads together.

Paige leaned in, brushing her nose against Azzi’s. “Then come prove it.”

Azzi grinned, then kissed her. Soft. Long. Full of apology and affection and comfort.

And when she pulled back, Paige tugged her even closer and whispered, “I forgive you. But you have to stay here now. Like, permanently. No more work. You’re banned.”

Azzi laughed, nestling herself deeper into Paige’s lap. “Deal. Just hold me.”

“Already on it.”

They sat there for a while in quiet contentment, Azzi tracing lazy circles on Paige’s arm, Paige humming under her breath. It was warm, and perfect, and deeply them.

And when Azzi tilted her head back just slightly and whispered, “You’re still annoying,” Paige kissed her collarbone and smiled.

“Yeah. But you love it.”

Azzi nodded, eyes closing.

“I do.”

⸻

By the time Paige stood up from the couch — Azzi still wrapped around her like a sleepy koala — she’d already made up her mind.

“No more homework. No more abandonment. You’re mine now,” she announced, carrying Azzi bridal-style toward their bedroom.

Azzi, half-asleep already, blinked up at her. “I was in your lap for twenty minutes.”

“And it’s still not enough,” Paige replied solemnly. “My love language is you being clingy and only paying attention to me forever.”

“You’re impossible.”

“You chose me.”

Azzi smiled as her cheek pressed to Paige’s shoulder. “Yeah. I did.”

The second they got to the bed, Paige dropped them both into it dramatically, bouncing once on the mattress and pulling Azzi down with her in one tangle of limbs and laughter.

Azzi tried to roll away to fix the covers, but Paige wrapped around her again like an octopus. Arms around her waist, one leg hooked over both of Azzi’s, face tucked into her neck.

“Trapped,” Azzi whispered, even as she melted.

“Safe,” Paige corrected, her voice low and teasing.

Azzi tried to reach for the light, but Paige just mumbled, “Leave it. I like seeing your face.”

Azzi tilted her head. “Even when I’m this tired and my hair’s a mess?”

“You’re still the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” Paige said, without hesitation, brushing a knuckle down her cheek. “You know I’ve been in love with you since you had fake glasses and didn’t know how to use dry shampoo.”

Azzi giggled into Paige’s neck. “That’s a terrifying era to reference.”

“You were still hot.”

“I had FAKE glasses.”

“I have no shame.”

Azzi turned slowly in Paige’s arms until they were face to face, inches apart, their legs tangled under the blanket.

“Do you really get that upset when I ask for space?” she asked softly, one brow lifted.

Paige smiled sheepishly. “Not really. I just like it when you make it up to me after.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow.

“Oh don’t look at me like that. You know I’m dramatic.”

Azzi laughed. “And clingy.”

“Mmhm. And hopeless.”

Azzi leaned in and kissed her slowly, their foreheads pressed together, the kiss turning lazy and familiar and warm.

They stayed like that for a while — kissing, whispering, laughing into each other’s skin.

Paige’s hands wandered, but not with urgency. Just with affection — a thumb running up Azzi’s spine, a palm on her waist, her lips dragging softly across her collarbone, her voice low and teasing: “Can’t believe you kicked me out like that.”

Azzi, blushing now, mumbled, “Paige.”

“I could’ve perished.”

“You had popcorn and a heated blanket.”

“It was emotional popcorn. You wounded me.”

Azzi rolled her eyes and then rolled herself right into Paige’s lap, straddling her hips as Paige blinked up with open admiration and a little surprise.

“Am I forgiven yet?” Azzi asked sweetly.

Paige whistled. “Damn. You might be.”

Azzi leaned in, forehead resting on Paige’s again. “You’re so dramatic. You know I don’t like being away from you either.”

“Then stop working so hard.”

“Then stop distracting me when I am.”

“Impossible.”

Azzi kissed her again, this one deeper, and Paige’s hands found their place on Azzi’s hips, anchoring her like she always did. Like Azzi belonged there.

She did.

“You’re my favorite distraction anyway,” Azzi whispered against her lips.

Paige grinned, pulling her down so they were chest to chest.

“Good,” she whispered back. “Because I plan on annoying you forever.”

Azzi smiled, nuzzling into her neck, and whispered back, “I know.”

⸻

Morning came slow.

Golden light leaked through the blinds, cutting gentle lines across the sheets and the curve of Azzi’s bare shoulder. Paige was still, not because she was asleep, but because Azzi was wrapped around her like she always was in the early hours — one arm tossed across Paige’s stomach, her face buried in the crook of Paige’s neck, lips slightly parted as she breathed slow and steady.

Paige didn’t move.

Didn’t dare.

This was her favorite part of the day. When Azzi was warm and soft and still dreaming, trusting her body against Paige’s like it belonged there. Which it did. Always.

Azzi stirred slightly, breath tickling Paige’s collarbone, and Paige smiled.

“Still asleep?” she whispered.

A groggy hum answered her, followed by a small, muffled, “What time is it?”

Paige twisted just enough to glance at the clock without moving Azzi. “Too early.”

“Practice?”

“Not for two hours.”

Azzi made a noise that sounded like a mix between relief and protest, then nuzzled closer, if that was even possible. Her leg slid between Paige’s, her hand curled gently in the fabric of Paige’s shirt, and she let out a sleepy sigh.

“You’re clingy in the mornings,” Paige murmured, grinning.

“You love it,” Azzi said without opening her eyes.

“I do.”

They were quiet again for a while, the kind of silence that only exists between people who know everything about each other. Paige’s fingers lazily traced patterns on Azzi’s back, slow and aimless, and Azzi hummed again.

“You finished your paper, right?” Paige asked.

“Mmhmm.”

“So I get you all day?”

“Until bio readings.”

Paige groaned. “I’ll take what I can get.”

Azzi cracked one eye open, then blinked sleepily up at her. “You’re dramatic.”

“You kicked me out of the room last night. I’m allowed.”

“I sat in your lap for like an hour after.”

“And I still didn’t recover.”

Azzi snorted softly, lips brushing Paige’s skin. “You poor thing.”

“I’m delicate.”

“You’re six feet tall and built.”

“Emotionally delicate.”

Azzi pushed up slightly, resting her chin on Paige’s chest, still half-asleep but amused now. Her curls were a mess, one side flattened from sleeping so close, but Paige just tucked a stray piece behind her ear.

“You’re beautiful,” she said, completely serious now.

Azzi blinked slowly. “You’re only saying that because I didn’t make you sleep on the couch.”

“No,” Paige said, brushing her knuckle down Azzi’s cheek. “I’m saying that because it’s true. And because I love you. Even when you banish me.”

Azzi smiled, slow and sleepy. “I love you too. Even when you won’t let me finish a sentence.”

“Fair.”

They stayed in that silence again — the quiet before the world starts moving too fast. Azzi lay fully on top of Paige now, their legs tangled, Paige’s arms wrapped securely around her waist. There was no rush.

“I have a plan,” Paige said suddenly.

Azzi groaned. “No plans. Sleep.”

“Hear me out.”

Azzi sighed, eyes closed again. “Fine.”

“We skip class.”

Azzi didn’t react.

“We call in a fake emergency.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Dog allergy.”

“We don’t have a dog. At least not here.”

“Not with that attitude.”

Azzi cracked a grin but didn’t open her eyes. “What’s the real plan?”

“We stay in bed all day.”

“Mm.”

“Cuddle.”

“Mmhm.”

“Kiss.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Eventually get up for snacks.”

Azzi laughed quietly. “Now that sounds like a real plan.”

Paige smiled, tugging her even closer. “Perfect. Operation: Don’t Leave This Bed. Starting now.”

Azzi kissed the underside of her jaw, then settled back down with a little hum of agreement. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And in love.”

Azzi yawned, soft and quiet. “You win.”

“I always do.”

Azzi was already drifting again, and Paige didn’t blame her. This bed, this morning, this moment — it was peace. It was theirs.

She kissed the top of Azzi’s head.

“Five more minutes,” she whispered.

Azzi, half-asleep, murmured, “Then snacks?”

“Then snacks.”

[seriiousgiirl]

seriiousgiirl

𝐼𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 — 𝒢𝒽𝑜𝓈𝓉𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝑔

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ݁𝒿𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝓈𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓍 𝓉𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓇!𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇.⊹ ₊ ݁.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 . ⊹ ₊ ݁. alternate universe - canon divergence, post-silent Hill 2, angst and fluff and smut, touch-starved, redemption, grief, mourning, psychological trauma and horror, mutual pining, James adopted Laura, age difference, smut, vaginal sex, rough sex, rough kissing, aftercare, daddy kink, James deserves his happy ending, James is desperate and pathetic, based on the Silent Hill Games and mostly the remake

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ 𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 . ⊹ ₊ ݁. James is pathetic once again.

❛ Part 1 ⋅ Part 6 ⋅ masterlist ⋅ ao3 ⋅ requests ❜

➜ ┊ a/n: Hello dear readers, I hope everyone will love this new chapters! Once again, I don't have enough words to describe how touched I am for your support.

Also, I already said it, but my requests are open, and I love a lot of fandoms, so if you like my writing it would be with pleasure!

➜ ┊: chapter 5/?.

“How’s your new medical dose working, Mr. Sunderland?”

James stared down at the nurse, her voice breaking through his haze of memories. Her smile was wide and sweet, too sweet, as if she didn't know that every time he walked into this place, a little part of him withered. Her uniform was too bright, the walls too clean, the lights too harsh. Everything felt wrong in hospitals—had felt wrong ever since Mary and Silent Hill.  Mary had spent so much time in places like this, the sterile smell of antiseptic clinging to everything, the endless beeps of machines monitoring her slow decline. The sight of her frail body hooked up to wires, her once lively eyes dulled by pain and fatigue, haunted him. He’d hated watching her slip further and further away, hated how helpless it made him feel. 

The hospitals were a graveyard for hope. 

The nurse, unaware or uncaring of his inner turmoil, continued leading him down the long corridor. Every step felt like it was echoing in his head, like the ticking of some inevitable countdown. Her shoes clicked sharply on the polished floor, and with every click, James felt the weight of the place closing in on him. It wasn't just Mary anymore—it was him. He hated these appointments because they made him feel like he was in Mary’s place now, like the sickness had transferred from her body to his mind.

That’s what it was, after all. Mary had been physically ill, but James knew he was sick, too—mentally. 

And that scared him more than anything. 

He clenched his fists inside his pockets, trying to focus on something other than the tightening in his chest. The walls were lined with posters about health and mental well-being, all of them blurring together in a haze of meaningless words. James wasn’t sure how long he’d been feeling this way—restless, broken, angry. He was doing his best to hold it together for Laura. For her, he had to keep moving, keep showing up to these appointments, keep taking the medication that dulled his thoughts just enough so he didn’t lose control. 

He had to. Only God knew what he might do if he didn’t. The memories of Silent Hill still clawed at the edges of his mind, the weight of his actions, of his guilt, always there, just under the surface. 

They reached the end of the corridor, and the nurse stopped outside a door, turning to look at him with that same smile plastered on her face. He could feel her eyes on him, assessing, waiting. He hated it, hated feeling like a patient—like someone broken who needed fixing. “Mr. Sunderland?” she repeated, knocking gently on the door before turning the handle. “The doctor will see you now.”

James stepped inside, the familiar dread rising like bile in his throat. The doctor’s office wasn’t much different from the rest of the hospital—sterile, white, and cold. He could see the file with his name on the desk, his life reduced to a few pages of notes and medical jargon. He hated that, too—how clinical it all was. There was no way to explain what was wrong with him, not really. No dosage of medication could fix the things he’d done, the things he’d seen.

As he sat down, the doctor's soft murmur of greetings barely registered. James’s gaze drifted to the window, the gray sky outside mirroring the weight inside him. He wasn’t here because he wanted to be. He was here because he had to be, for the last piece of his life that still made sense. 

“James.” The doctor’s voice was calm but probing, pulling him back to the present. “How have you been feeling on the new dose? Any noticeable changes?”

James rubbed his palms against his jeans, trying to think of what to say. What was the point of explaining? The medication didn’t change anything, not really. Sure, it dulled the edges, kept him from spiralling too far into the nightmares, but the weight was still there. The guilt. The grief. The memories of Mary’s final days still haunted him, and now…now there was everything else.

“Same as always,” James muttered, keeping his eyes fixed on the window. “It takes the edge off, but...”

He trailed off, unsure of how to finish that sentence. It wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

The doctor nodded slowly, jotting something down in his file, and James felt that familiar frustration building again. None of this would help—like it hadn’t helped Mary. None of this would take away the memories or the guilt that gnawed at him like a festering wound. The doctor’s voice cut through his thoughts again, calm but firm. “You’re doing this for your daughter, right?”

“Yes,” James nodded slowly, the weight of the conversation pressing on his chest. "I need to be stable for Laura," he muttered, almost as if he were trying to convince himself as much as the doctor. He didn’t like talking about it. Didn’t like admitting how fragile his grip on things really was. 

But Laura—she needed him, and that was all that mattered… Right?

The doctor, however, leaned forward in his chair, his expression unreadable as he studied James for a moment. Then, in a calm but pointed voice, he interrupted, “Maybe you should be doing this for yourself first, James. Have you ever considered that?”

James opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He stared at the doctor, feeling caught off guard, like the ground beneath him had shifted suddenly. For himself? The thought sounded almost foreign in his mind. What was the point of doing it for himself? Why would it even matter?

His mouth closed again, his throat tightening with the weight of unspoken thoughts. The silence in the room stretched, the question lingering in the air. James hadn’t considered himself in a long time—his needs, his well-being. It seemed almost selfish, like a luxury he didn’t deserve. 

Apart from Y/n. 

He had taken everything from you.

“I…” he finally managed, his voice quieter now, hesitant. “I don’t know what good that would do.”

He shifted in his seat, discomfort gnawing at him. The idea of taking care of himself first felt wrong, unnatural even. His life had revolved around others—around Mary when she was alive, and now around Laura. He barely recognized himself anymore, much less thought about what he needed. The mere suggestion seemed ludicrous.

The doctor’s gaze didn’t waver, his calm persistence chipping away at the walls James had built around himself. "You’re still here, James. Still alive. That has to mean something, doesn’t it? You can’t help anyone if you’re not helping yourself." The doctor let out a long, tired sigh, leaning back in his chair as if the weight of this conversation had become too familiar, too routine. 

“It’s always the same with you, James,” he said, his tone gentle but edged with frustration. “I’ve been seeing you for years now, and there’s been so little improvement. It’s starting to become... alarming.”

James felt his chest tighten at the words, a cold ripple of anxiety spreading through him.Alarming. It echoed in his mind, drawing him back to another time, another place—the same hollow, clinical speeches they had made about Mary when it became clear she wasn’t getting better. That same hopelessness. That same finality.

His pulse quickened. The room seemed to close in around him, the doctor’s words blurring with memories of those sterile hospital rooms, the beeping machines, the pitiful way the nurses would smile at him as if they knew there was nothing left to be done. A lost cause. They had treated Mary like that toward the end, and now they were starting to look at him the same way. He couldn’t bear the thought of it.

James’ breath hitched, panic gnawing at the edges of his composure. He tried to stay calm, gripping the arms of the chair as if grounding himself physically would somehow stop the rising tide of fear inside him. But the more he tried to control it, the more his thoughts spiralled. The idea of being a lost cause, of being considered beyond saving—it was unbearable. It felt like a death sentence, only this time it wasn’t just physical. It was his mind. His soul.

“I’m not…” he started, his voice shaky, the panic evident in his eyes as he looked at the doctor. “I’m not dying. I’m not—" His thoughts raced, but the words wouldn’t come out right. He couldn’t find a way to explain how much that idea terrified him.

The doctor leaned forward, his expression softening as he noticed the change in James' demeanour. His brow furrowed with concern as he held up a hand, his voice gentler now. “James, it’s okay. Breathe.” 

James struggled to rein in the panic, his breathing shallow, his hands trembling slightly. He couldn’t get the thought out of his head—the idea of being doomed, of wasting away the way Mary had. It had consumed him once, and now it was rearing its ugly head again.

“I’m not saying you’re a lost cause,” the doctor said quietly, his voice firm yet reassuring. “I don’t think that. I don’t want you to think that either. You’re not Mary, James. This isn’t the same.” He spoke slowly, as if trying to guide James away from the edge of that dark spiral. “You’re not going to die like she did.”

The doctor’s words started to pierce through the fog of panic, though James still felt on edge, his heart pounding uncomfortably in his chest. He stared at the floor, struggling to push the thoughts away. 

“You’re here,” the doctor continued softly. “You’re still here, still trying. And that’s what matters. But you’ve got to stop thinking of this as something you can just push through without taking care of yourself.”

James nodded stiffly, still shaken, but the panic was beginning to ebb. He wasn’t entirely convinced, but the doctor’s words had slowed his racing mind. 

The doctor extended his hand, his palm open and expectant. "Your journal, James."

James hesitated for a split second before reaching into his bag and pulling out the worn notebook. It was a simple thing, its pages filled with his scribbled thoughts and confessions, the only place where he could vent the swirling chaos in his head without restraint. His hand shook slightly as he handed it over.

The doctor accepted the journal without a word, flipping it open to where James had left off. For a long, agonising moment, James just sat there, staring at him. The silence in the room felt heavy, the soft rustle of paper the only sound breaking it. James’ heart thudded in his chest, the anxiety from earlier still coiled tightly within him. The doctor’s brow furrowed as he read, his eyes scanning the pages carefully.

Then, suddenly, the doctor paused, his finger lingering on a particular entry. His eyebrow raised slightly, and James’ stomach lurched. He found it. The entry James dreaded anyone would see, the one where he had let his shameful thoughts spill onto the page like a confession he could never voice out loud. He had been reckless, letting the memory of you consume him to the point where he couldn't resist anymore. And now, it was there in the doctor's hands, in black ink.

The doctor didn’t look at James right away. Instead, he flipped back a few pages, then forward again, as if comparing something. Finally, he spoke, his tone neutral, almost clinical. “So, a new name has appeared,” the doctor remarked, glancing up at James briefly. “It’s always been Mary, Laura and you. But now… Y/n?”

James’ throat went dry. He swallowed hard, his eyes darting away, his hands curling into fists on his lap. He felt exposed, as if all his dirty secrets had been laid bare, the shame gnawing at him like a festering wound. His mind raced, remembering that entry, the way he had let himself go completely, jerking off to thoughts of you, and how disgusted he’d felt afterward. It was a moment of weakness, a release of the sexual frustration he’d kept buried for so long. And now the doctor knew.

James braced himself for judgement, for the inevitable look of disappointment or maybe even disgust. But when the doctor spoke again, it wasn’t what he expected. “Well,” the doctor said, leaning back in his chair with a hint of surprise in his voice, “at least you seem to be making some progress… when it comes to your sexual frustration.”

James blinked, caught off guard. He hadn’t expected that. He stared at the doctor, unsure of how to respond. Progress? How could that be considered progress? It felt like a violation, a betrayal of everything he had tried to bury deep inside. The doctor’s gaze softened, his expression more thoughtful than condemning. 

“You’ve spent a long time suppressing those urges, James. It’s no wonder they’ve started to come out in... different ways. But I don’t think it’s something to be ashamed of. Not entirely, at least.”

James opened his mouth, then closed it, unable to form a coherent response. The shame was still there, clawing at him, but the doctor’s unexpected reaction had thrown him. "Y/n..." James began, his voice rough, but he couldn’t find the words. He wasn’t ready to admit what you meant to him, not to the doctor, not even to himself.

"You’ve been carrying a lot, James. Maybe it’s time to stop punishing yourself for simply being human."

The doctor flipped through James’ journal again, settling on another entry. His eyes scanned the page before he began reading aloud, his voice even and steady. James’ stomach churned as he recognized the date.

“‘Y/n came over today,’” the doctor began. “‘I made some pizzas for Laura and her. Laura seemed excited—she always is when Y/n’s around. It’s like her presence lights up the whole room. I hadn’t seen Laura smile like that in a long time. Y/n… she’s good for her.’”

James shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his jaw tight as the doctor continued.

“‘It wasn’t just Laura, though. Y/n has this way of making everything feel... easier. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like just being near her makes things warmer. She laughed at one of Laura’s jokes, and for a moment, it was like the weight on my chest wasn’t so heavy. Like maybe things could be okay for a while.’”

The doctor paused, glancing at James. “She sounds kind. Thoughtful, even.”

James clenched his fists in his lap, his gaze fixed on the floor. He didn’t need the doctor to remind him of how good Y/n was. He knew. But that wasn’t the point.

The doctor continued, his voice a little softer now, as he read the next part. “‘I should’ve kept my distance, but I didn’t. After Laura went to bed, Y/n and I ended up too close. It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. I pushed her away before it got worse, but... I felt bad about it. Guilty, even. I don’t know why. Maybe because I wanted it. Maybe because I needed it.’”

Silence filled the room after those words, thick and suffocating. James’ heart raced, the memory of that night playing vividly in his mind. He had pushed you away, yes, but only after he’d let it go too far. Only after he’d felt the spark of something he knew he had no right to feel.

"It’s clear you care about Y/n, James. That much is obvious. But what’s more telling is the guilt you felt afterward. You’re punishing yourself for something natural—something human." The doctor commented. “You’re allowed to move forward, James,” the doctor said softly. “You’re allowed to let yourself feel, even if it’s difficult. You don’t have to keep punishing yourself for every moment of warmth you find.”

But James wasn’t sure he believed that. The shame ran too deep, tangled in his grief, his guilt, and his fear. 

The doctor leaned back in his chair, giving James space to breathe. “Y/n seems to care about you and Laura. That’s something worth considering.”

James nodded slightly, but his mind was far from convinced.

The doctor flipped to the most recent entry in James' journal, his brow furrowing slightly as he began to read. James could barely sit still, his chest tightening with every second that passed in silence. He knew what the doctor was about to find, and the shame weighed heavy on him.

“‘I can’t stop thinking about it,’” the doctor read aloud. “‘That night with Y/n… how I pushed her away after everything. It was too much. Too close. But now, I can’t stop feeling like I made a mistake. It’s eating me up inside. I felt like I had to push her away, but now... all I want is to bring her back.’”

The doctor’s voice remained steady, but James could hear the shift in his tone, the careful consideration of every word as he continued. “‘I felt guilty because it wasn’t supposed to happen like that. But I can’t pretend anymore. I need her. I can’t deny it—I want to be close to her. I’m tired of fighting it, tired of pretending that I don’t care. But what kind of man does that make me? I pushed her away, but now I just want to apologise. I need to apologise, because I need her, and I can’t keep pretending that I don’t.’”

The doctor let out a quiet sigh as he finished reading, closing the journal with a soft thud. James could feel his pulse pounding in his ears, every word of that entry now hanging in the air between them.

“You’re being honest with yourself here, James,” the doctor said, his voice gentle but firm. “You’re acknowledging your feelings, your needs. That’s not a bad thing. In fact, it’s progress.”

James swallowed hard, his throat dry. Progress, again. That’s what the doctor called it, but all he felt was shame. How could needing Y/n feel like progress when it made him feel so weak? So desperate?

“But it’s the guilt,” the doctor continued, “the guilt that’s keeping you trapped in this cycle. You want to be close to her, but you’re punishing yourself for it at the same time. Why is that? Is it because of Mary?”

James flinched at the mention of her name, the familiar weight of her memory pressing down on him. “I... I don’t know,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe.”

The doctor leaned forward, his gaze focused on James. “You need to figure that out, James. You’re allowed to need someone. You’re allowed to want someone in your life. But until you deal with the guilt you’re carrying, you’ll keep pushing her away, and you’ll keep punishing yourself for wanting something that’s entirely natural.”

James nodded, though his mind was far from settled. The words in that journal were raw, real, and terrifying. He couldn’t deny what he felt anymore—he was needy, desperate even, and he hated himself for it. For wanting something he couldn’t have. For needing you.

The doctor turned a few more pages, his hand pausing as he reached the end of the journal where the pages were blank. His brows knitted together, and he hesitated, his eyes flicking back up to James. “When do you think this last entry was?” the doctor asked, his tone soft but concerned.

James pinched the bridge of his nose, already feeling the frustration bubbling up. “I... I don’t know. Maybe three days ago?”

The doctor’s face hardened as he shook his head. “It wasn’t three days ago, James. It was six.” He sighed, closing the journal with a soft thud. “You’re losing track of time again, and that’s not good.”

James felt a heavy wave of dread settle over him as the doctor’s words sank in. Six days? He ran a hand over his face, trying to remember, trying to piece together the blurred fragments of the last week, but it was like reaching into fog. Time slipped through his fingers more often than he liked to admit, and here it was happening again.

The doctor leaned forward, his gaze piercing. “Tell me, James—what happened these last six days? Where have you been?”

James clenched his jaw, trying to pull something—anything—out of the haze in his mind. He remembered the hotel, remembered Y/n, remembered how he pushed you away again. And the guilt, it had been suffocating him since. But six days? What had he been doing in all that time?

“I don’t know,” James muttered, his voice low and strained. “I... I think I just stayed home. I’ve been looking after Laura, I think. Just trying to keep things together.”

The doctor’s expression remained stern, though there was a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. “It’s more than just keeping things together, James. You’re slipping, and we’ve been down this road before. You know that when you lose track of time like this, it means you’re dissociating again.”

James swallowed, his throat tight. He hated hearing it said out loud. Dissociating. It made him feel like he wasn’t even present in his own life, like a passenger watching from the sidelines while everything fell apart around him.

“And what about Y/n?” the doctor pressed gently. “You wrote about her, about how you wanted to apologise. Did you do it?”

James nodded slowly, his face showing deep struggle as he spoke, “Yes… I went to apologise. It was the day after class when Laura forgot her maths book.”

The doctor’s eyes narrowed slightly, urging James to continue. “And how did it go? How did you feel?”

For a moment, James hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. “It felt… good,” he admitted, almost reluctantly. “To apologise, I mean. I realised I had been acting like a jerk with her. She didn’t deserve that. And for a second, I thought maybe I could make things right.” The doctor nodded, waiting, but James’ expression shifted. His jaw tightened, and his voice dropped as he continued, “But then… then I took advantage of her.”

The words hung in the air like a heavy weight, the silence thick with shame.

“I pleasured her in the classroom,” James confessed, his voice barely above a whisper now. His fists clenched in his lap as he struggled to make sense of it, to come to terms with what he had done. “And with a second thought, I realise… I didn’t even ask for her consent. I just… I just did it.” James’ breath hitched, his mind racing back to that moment. He had been lost in the heat of it, the need to feel something, anything, to escape the crushing weight of his guilt. But now, looking back, he wasn’t sure if he had crossed a line.

The doctor’s eyes narrowed slightly, though he remained calm, taking in James' words carefully. "You... took advantage of her?" he repeated, the weight of James’ confession sinking into the space between them.

James nodded slowly, his hands gripping the edge of the chair, knuckles white from the pressure. "I didn’t even think. It just... happened," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I went to apologise, but then everything spiralled. I—God, I didn’t even ask her. I just... I didn’t give her a choice." His voice cracked on the last word, and he shook his head as if trying to shake away the guilt crawling beneath his skin. “I truly don’t know,” James muttered, his voice breaking. “I think she wanted it. She didn’t say no, but… but I didn’t ask. I didn’t stop to think. I just… I just took. And now, I feel like I’ve made things worse. Like I’ve dragged her down with me.”

For a moment, the doctor was silent, his fingers steepled as he watched James closely, the gravity of the situation settling between them. "James," he said, his voice firm yet still measured, "you’ve made significant progress in recognizing your actions, but this... this is dangerous. You’re stepping into territory that could destroy what little stability you’ve managed to build—for yourself and for Laura."

"It felt wrong," James admitted, his voice strained. "But at the same time, it was like... like I couldn’t stop myself. I needed her in that moment, and I just—" He broke off, clenching his fists as a fresh wave of guilt washed over him. "I hurt her, didn’t I?"

The doctor sighed softly, leaning back in his chair. "You crossed a boundary, James. And that’s something you’ll need to address, not just with her, but with yourself. You’re carrying so much grief, anger, and guilt—those emotions have nowhere to go, so they manifest in ways that are harmful to you and those around you. What happened with Y/n might have been about more than just desire. It might be about trying to fill the void you’ve been living with for years."

James nodded weakly, the doctor’s words ringing uncomfortably true. He thought about Mary, about the years of frustration and loss, about how much he had bottled up since her illness and death. And now, here he was, unravelling in front of Y/n, dragging her into his mess because he couldn’t keep his emotions in check.

"You need to confront what’s really going on inside you," the doctor continued. "You’re not just dealing with sexual frustration or the need for intimacy. You’re dealing with unresolved grief, anger at yourself, anger at the world... and it’s clouding your judgement."

James pressed his palms to his eyes, trying to block out the reality of what he had done. "I didn’t mean to hurt her," he said, his voice rough. "I didn’t—" James let out a shaky breath, his heart pounding in his chest. He wasn’t sure he had it in him to face Y/n again, to admit the truth of what he had done. But the doctor was right—if he didn’t confront it, it would fester, eating away at him until there was nothing left.

James swallowed hard, his throat dry as he prepared to admit more. "That wasn’t everything," he said quietly, his hands fidgeting in his lap. "After that day… I didn’t stop. One day, I called her and booked a hotel, and then it just… started. We began seeing each other. Regularly."

The doctor looked at him thoughtfully before commenting, “Y/n must be very patient, James. She seems kind, and forgiving if she continued seeing you after that initial incident.”

But James shook his head. “That’s the problem. The more I saw her, the worse it got. I… I started having these nightmares again. Vivid. It’s that… that thing.” His voice trembled as he spoke, the weight of his confession dragging him down. "That red pyramid thing from my nightmares... it's back."

The doctor’s eyes flickered with concern as James pressed on, his voice thick with dread. "I would dream of that creature, taking advantage of her. Of Y/n. It would… it would hurt and abuse her, and I’d just be there, watching, unable to stop it." His hands clenched into tight fists, the memories of those nightmares making his skin crawl.

James paused, staring at the ground as if lost in those dark, haunting visions. “And the more I felt at ease with her, the more unbearable the dreams became. It felt like I was losing control, like I was watching her suffer in ways I couldn’t handle.” His voice cracked with the weight of his fear.

The doctor remained quiet, letting the words spill out of James, not interrupting him.

“Last time,” James continued, “I couldn’t take it anymore. I pushed her away. I acted like an asshole, rude and cold… just to make sure I hurt her feelings. I wanted her to hate me, to stop coming around, to make it easier for both of us.” His head lowered, his face twisted with guilt. “I left her there. She didn’t deserve that, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t keep dragging her into my mess. I thought if I made her leave, it would stop the nightmares. But it didn’t.”

The doctor exhaled slowly, his face softening with understanding. “James, what you're describing… it sounds like your subconscious is trying to confront something deeper. Maybe it’s not just about Y/n, but about control. Guilt. These nightmares could be your mind’s way of punishing you for feeling like you don’t deserve her.”

James nodded numbly, but inside, he was reeling. He had been doing everything he could to keep Laura safe, to hold it together for her. But now, it felt like everything was slipping out of his control. Y/n had been his one escape, his one comfort—and now, he had destroyed that too.

“I’m scared,” James finally admitted, his voice barely a whisper.

The doctor nodded, his gaze steady but compassionate. “Being scared is completely normal, James. It shows that you’re aware of what’s at stake, and that’s not a bad thing.” He paused, letting the words settle between them before continuing. “But let’s take a step back and rationalise this. Deep down, you’re a brave man. Braver than you give yourself credit for.”

James blinked, uncertainty in his eyes as he looked up. The doctor’s voice was firm but encouraging. “You know what you want, even if it scares you. Think about it—when you realised alcohol had taken hold of you, you made a decision. You stopped, cold turkey, because you knew it was dragging you down. And since then, you haven’t indulged. That’s proof of your strong spirit. Most people would’ve faltered, but you didn’t.”

James clenched his jaw, feeling the weight of those words. He hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge the strength it had taken to quit drinking, but hearing it framed this way brought a flicker of pride, mingled with shame.

The doctor leaned forward, his voice softening. “But when it comes to your emotions, it’s different, isn’t it? There’s no simple fix. Still, you already know what you want deep down. You’ve made your decision, James, even if you haven’t fully admitted it to yourself yet.”

James swallowed hard, his heart pounding as he felt the truth of those words. He did know what he wanted, but the path to get there felt impossibly steep.

“The road ahead will be long and hard,” the doctor continued, his tone gentle but insistent. “Just like when you cut out alcohol. Guilt and grief have been your comfort for so long. They’ve been your constant companions, the last thread tying you to the past. Moving forward means severing that link, changing the routine. And it’s terrifying because it means letting go of what’s familiar, even if it’s painful.”

James stared down at his hands, his thoughts swirling. He had spent so many years cocooned in the comfort of his suffering, unable to envision a life without it.

“But moving forward also means sharing that vulnerability with someone else,” the doctor added, his words hitting like a quiet truth James had been avoiding. “And I think that’s where Y/n comes in. She’s been there, offering you something new. Something real. And it’s not easy for you to accept that, because it requires you to let someone else in, to share the parts of yourself you’ve kept locked away.”

The doctor let out a long breath, his expression softening further. “You’re brave enough to quit alcohol. You’re brave enough to do this too, James. But it’s up to you to decide when you’re ready to take that step.”

The doctor leaned back slightly in his chair, observing James closely. He could sense the internal conflict brewing beneath the surface, an invisible storm churning behind his stormy eyes. “You know, we talked about this woman, Maria, right?” he said, his tone steady but probing. “In our past sessions, we both agreed that she was—”

James swallowed hard, the name hanging in the air like a spectre, casting a shadow over the moment. “She wasn’t real,” he interjected, frustration colouring his voice. He felt a mix of resentment and acknowledgment rising within him. The doctor’s expression shifted to one of pleased understanding.

“Exactly,” the doctor replied, nodding with a hint of warmth. “She was a manifestation of your guilt, your grief—an anchor that kept you tethered to the past. And you’ve always pushed her away, never indulging in that fantasy. That shows remarkable strength, James.”

A flicker of recognition crossed James’s face, as if the doctor had peeled back a layer of his psyche to reveal something he had always known but hadn’t dared to acknowledge. He had fought against the allure of those internal fantasies, refusing to let them control him. But now, as the doctor continued, he felt the weight of a different reality pressing in on him.

“But now,” the doctor said, his voice gentle yet firm, “you’ve let Y/n take a part of your life. You’ve opened yourself up to her in ways you never did with Maria, and that’s a significant step forward. If you’re afraid of treating her like you did Mary or Maria, you have to remember this: Y/n is her own person, with her own desires and opinions.”

James’s brow furrowed, confusion and concern swirling in his thoughts. “But I—” he started, the words catching in his throat, a knot tightening in his chest.

The doctor held up a hand, silencing James gently. “You can’t know whether you deserve her or not. Your past experiences are not a reflection of who you are now. You’re not that man anymore, James. You’ve fought hard to break free from those chains, and you’ve come so far. Y/n is different, and she has the right to make her own choices in this relationship, just as you do.”

James's gaze dropped to the floor, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within him. Each word the doctor spoke felt like a mirror, reflecting not just his fears but also his hopes—hopes he had been too afraid to acknowledge. “What if I hurt her?” he finally managed, vulnerability seeping into his voice like ink spreading on paper.

The doctor leaned forward, his gaze unwavering, an anchor in James's turbulent sea of self-doubt. “What if you don’t?” he asked back, his tone softening. “What if you’re capable of giving her something real, something that’s not clouded by your past? You have to give yourself that chance. Otherwise, you risk losing out on something beautiful.”

James looked up, searching the doctor’s face for any hint of insincerity, any sign that this was just another platitude designed to comfort him. But there was none. Instead, there was understanding—deep, resonant understanding that penetrated the layers of fear and guilt he had built around himself.

“Every time you pull away from Y/n, you’re not just punishing yourself; you’re punishing her too,” the doctor continued, his voice steady. “She deserves to know you, the real you—not the shadow of the man haunted by his past. And you deserve to be seen for who you are now, free from those burdens.”

James felt a swell of emotion rising within him, a mix of guilt and longing. The thought of Y/n brought warmth to his chest, but it was quickly eclipsed by memories of loss and fear. “But what if she sees the darkness in me?” he whispered, the vulnerability spilling out like water from a cracked vessel. “What if she runs away?”

“Then she’s not the right person for you,” the doctor replied, his tone unwavering. “But if she chooses to stay, it means she sees something in you worth holding onto. You have to allow her the opportunity to make that choice.”

James leaned back in his chair, the weight of the doctor’s words pressing down on him like a physical force. The air in the room felt thick, saturated with the unspoken tension that had become a part of his life. He had spent so long living in a haze of self-imposed isolation that the idea of opening up to someone felt terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

“You’re standing at a crossroads, James,” the doctor said, his voice softer now, almost coaxing. “One path leads back to the familiar—the pain, the guilt, the solitude. The other leads to possibility, connection, and maybe even happiness. But it’s your choice. You have to take that first step.”

James nodded slowly, absorbing the gravity of the moment. His heart raced as he contemplated the risk involved in stepping forward. But deep down, beneath layers of fear and hesitation, a flicker of hope began to grow. Perhaps there was a way to reconcile his past with his present, a way to embrace both the light and the dark without being consumed by either.

Taking a deep breath, he looked into the doctor’s eyes, seeking reassurance. “I’ll try,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll try to make it work with Y/n.”

The doctor smiled, a mix of pride and encouragement evident on his face. “That’s all I ask, James. Just take it one day at a time. You’ve come too far to let fear dictate your choices now.” 

As they sat together in that small, sterile room, surrounded by the echoes of their conversation, James felt a shift within himself—a small but significant turning point. It was a long road ahead, fraught with challenges and uncertainties, but for the first time in a long while, he felt the weight of his past begin to lift, replaced by the flickering light of possibility.

───────────────

The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm, golden hue over the school grounds as children trickled out from their classrooms. James stood near the entrance, feeling strangely out of place, gripping a bouquet of flowers in his hand. He could feel eyes on him, parents chatting quietly while casting curious glances his way, and even a few teachers looked on with mild amusement. He swallowed hard, fighting the sudden urge to toss the bouquet and leave, but he couldn’t bring himself to move.

Then Laura appeared, bouncing out of the school building with her usual carefree attitude, her backpack slung over her shoulder. Her gaze immediately zeroed in on the bright burst of flowers in his hand, her brow furrowing in confusion as she approached. “Flowers?” Laura raised an eyebrow, her voice tinged with disbelief. “I never saw you buy flowers, James. Are they for me?” She stood in front of him, crossing her arms as if she already knew the answer and was daring him to say otherwise.

James felt his face flush with heat, utterly embarrassed. He hadn’t thought this through. His heart hammered in his chest, and he was all too aware of the curious stares of the people around him. He cleared his throat, avoiding Laura’s sharp gaze. "Uh, no," he stammered, shaking his head. "These… uh… these are for Y/n. To thank her for all her hard work, you know… teaching and stuff."

The lie felt flimsy on his tongue, but he pressed on, forcing a weak smile. Laura stared at him, her eyes narrowing, not buying his explanation for a second. He could almost see the gears turning in her little head.

“Y/n, huh?” Laura's tone was sceptical, her arms still crossed. “Since when do you give teachers flowers for teaching? You didn’t give Miss Roberts any when she was my teacher.” Her voice was dripping with suspicion, and James shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny.

He cursed silently under his breath. Laura had a way of cutting right through his defences with just a few words. He could feel himself faltering, unsure of how to continue without giving too much away. “I just… thought it’d be nice, that’s all,” James mumbled, trying to sound casual. “It’s nothing. Just… showing some of my appreciation.”

Laura’s eyes darted between the bouquet and his face, as if she could see right through him. “You’re acting weird,” she said bluntly, her tone matter-of-fact. “Is this about that time you made her cry or something? I heard you in your sleep…”

James’s chest tightened at her words, and he looked away, biting the inside of his cheek. It was a low blow, and even though Laura didn’t mean to hit him where it hurt, it still stung. He couldn’t forget that moment either—the way he had pushed Y/n away, the way he’d seen the hurt in her eyes when he acted like an ass just to protect himself.

“No, it’s not about that,” he said, more to himself than to her. He glanced down at the bouquet, the bright petals taunting him with their symbolism. It was supposed to be an apology of sorts, something small but meaningful, a way to show Y/n that he was trying, that he wanted to make up for how distant he’d been. But standing here, in front of Laura, it all felt incredibly foolish.

Laura huffed, clearly unimpressed with his explanation. “Whatever you say, James. But I think Y/n’s too smart to be won over by some dumb flowers.” She rolled her eyes, but there was a faint smirk on her lips, a sign that she was enjoying the awkwardness he was experiencing.

James sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he muttered under his breath. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of anxiety creeping up his spine. Was he making a mistake? Would Y/n even want these flowers after everything that had happened between them?

Maybe the flowers wouldn’t be enough. Maybe nothing would. But he had to try, didn’t he?

The scent of the flowers seemed to mock him, filling his nostrils with their sweet fragrance, a reminder of the gesture he wasn’t even sure how to complete. But as much as he wanted to flee from the situation, he also knew he couldn't keep running from Y/n—or from himself. One way or another, he would have to face you. And this time, he would have to do it right.

He only hoped that it wasn’t too late.

James cleared his throat, attempting to sound casual. "Hey, Laura… could you wait for me out here? Just for a bit."

Laura glanced up at him with a knowing look, then cast a playful smirk his way. “Sure, James,” she replied, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Take all the time you need.” She settled herself on a nearby bench in the school courtyard, crossing her legs as she took out her colouring book.

He could feel his cheeks burn, and he barely managed to give a stiff nod in response. “Right. Just... won’t be long.”

Heat rose in his cheeks, and he quickly looked away, embarrassed by her intuition. His grip on the flowers tightened, and his palms felt slick against the bouquet wrapping. He took a breath, steadying himself, but as he turned toward the door leading to your classroom, his stomach clenched. Each step felt like a shaky stride into the unknown, his heart beating in his throat.

He took a steadying breath, glancing back at Laura. She was already focused on her drawing, making herself comfortable on the bench, entirely unbothered by his lingering. The reassurance of her casual support was oddly grounding, but it didn’t ease the jitter in his steps as he turned toward the school building.

His heart thudded heavier with each step down the hallway, his mind racing through what he might say. How do you even apologise for the way I’ve acted? For pulling you in close just to push you away? But whatever happened, he owed her this face-to-face, his presence rather than just empty words.

James hesitated outside your door, gripping the bouquet a bit too tightly. The rehearsed words played in his mind like a distant echo: “Apologise. Tell her it wasn’t fair to keep her at a distance.” He had played out this moment in his head, every word planned, his intentions set. But standing here, about to step into reality, his mind began to spin. Every inch of him felt on edge, like his nerves were stretched thin. 

He breathed deeply, hoping to quell the tension creeping up his neck.

Finally, he mustered the courage and opened the door, only to feel his heart drop. There you were, just as he’d pictured, a radiant presence that drew his gaze without effort. You were leaning over your desk, focused on some papers, your fingers lingering on the corner of a page. For a split second, he thought this might actually go well.

But then you looked up, and the way your brows furrowed in surprise made his confidence wither. There wasn’t the hint of warmth he had imagined—no welcoming smile. Instead, your expression was one of confusion, even discomfort, as though he had interrupted something important.

Before he could gather himself, his gaze followed yours, and he finally noticed the man standing beside your desk. The stranger turned, eyeing James with equal confusion, his posture suggesting he was someone used to having your attention. There was a brief silence as the three of you took each other in, the air heavy with unspoken questions. The stranger’s eyes narrowed slightly, the shift in his stance subtle but unmistakable. His gaze flicked to the flowers, then back to James, as though he were trying to piece together what was happening.

James felt his grip on the bouquet tighten, the carefully selected flowers (based on your favourites, Laura told him) suddenly feeling like a foolish gesture. He cleared his throat, struggling to keep his composure. The apology he’d rehearsed slipped away, buried under the awkward tension filling the room. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He felt out of place, almost intrusive, like he’d stumbled into a moment that wasn’t meant for him.

The man’s voice broke the silence, calm but edged with a touch of formality. “Mr. Sunderland. Can I help you with something?” he asked, looking at James with a polite, almost dismissive expression.

James felt his mouth go dry. “I—I just came to speak with Y/n for a moment,” he managed, his voice a little too soft, like he was tiptoeing over broken glass. He glanced at you, seeking some kind of reassurance in your eyes, but you only looked back, your face still unreadable. “But... I didn’t realise you were busy. I’m sorry if I’m intruding.”

There was a moment where the man looked at you, waiting for a cue, maybe some indication of how he should handle James. But you didn’t give one, your gaze darting between them, leaving James feeling even more adrift.

After a moment you sighed and stood up, glancing at the man in the room. “We can continue this discussion later,” you said, giving him a soft smile. He returned the gesture, nodding in agreement. As he turned to leave, James couldn’t shake the feeling that there was an intimacy between you two that cut deeper than mere familiarity. 

“See you on Sunday for the movie, right?” He said before leaving.

When the man’s hand lingered on your shoulder for just a moment too long, a surge of jealousy shot through James, startling him. It was a sensation he had long since buried, one he thought he had forgotten how to feel. His heart raced, and he felt a heat rising in his chest. The sight of you and this other man made his stomach twist, a painful ache spreading through him that reminded him he ever had a heart. He had almost forgotten how intense jealousy could be—the way it could claw at his insides, leaving him feeling raw and exposed.

It was unsettling, almost suffocating, to think about you being with someone else, sharing your laughter and moments with another man. The idea sent his mind spiralling, and he fought against the intrusive thoughts that begged to take hold. It had been so long since he’d allowed himself to feel anything for anyone—especially someone as captivating as you. 

As the door closed behind the man, the air felt charged, thick with unspoken words and emotions. “James,” you said, breaking the silence as you turned to face him. He could see the confusion in your eyes, but all he could think about was how that other man had made you smile, how easily you had interacted. A part of him ached at the thought of sharing you with anyone, even if it was just for a fleeting moment.

“Um, hey,” he finally managed to say, his voice sounding strained. Your gaze held his, and in that moment, he felt both grateful and envious. Grateful that you were here, that you were real, but envious of anyone who could have even a piece of you.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your brow furrowing, and it made his heart race. 

“I, uh…” He hesitated, the bouquet of flowers suddenly feeling heavy in his hands. 

You shook your head, your expression turning serious, the playful smile fading quickly. “James, it’s really not professional to come to school with flowers. People might get the wrong idea,” you snapped, your voice sharp as you crossed your arms tightly over your chest. 

“And especially the way you made it clear that you wanted nothing to do with me”.

Your words stung, but it was the hint of anger in your tone that truly cut him. And James couldn’t shake the sight of the hickeys he had left on your neck as he took a glimpse of the delicious curve of your neck, a reminder of the intimacy that had turned into a mess of confusion and regret. But, the possessiveness igniting within him clashed against the storm brewing in your eyes. 

He cleared his throat, attempting to steady himself. “I’m here to apologise,” he asserted, forcing his voice to remain calm despite the unease bubbling up inside him. He needed you to see his sincerity. 

But before he could continue, you interrupted him, your frustration boiling over. “Apologise? You think that’s enough?” You stepped forward, fire in your gaze. “After everything? You can’t just come here with flowers and think you can sweep it under the rug! Do you even understand how hurtful that is?”

James felt his heart sink. The anger in your voice was palpable, filling the space between you with tension. “What do you want me to say?” he asked, his voice faltering. “I messed up, and I—”

“Damn right, you messed up!” you shot back, raising your voice—he never heard you like that, so angry and sad, it broke his heart. “You pushed me away, James! You treated me like I was nothing, and now you think a bouquet of flowers is going to fix it? It’s pathetic!”

The sting of your words pierced through him, and he felt a mixture of shame and regret swirling inside. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he managed, desperation creeping into his tone. “I just—I was scared.”

Before he could even process your words, your hand came up and slapped him across the face. The impact rang sharply in his ears, but it was nothing compared to the shame he felt. His head snapped to the side, and a silence fell between you both, charged with emotions neither of you could put into words The sting from your slap lingered on his cheek, and his throat tightened. He blinked hard, feeling his eyes water, not from the pain of the slap, but from the deep, aching remorse that welled up inside him. He deserved it, every bit of it, and he knew it.

“Scared?” you repeated incredulously, your eyes blazing with fury. “Scared of what? Scared of letting someone in? Scared of actually having to face your emotions? Because it sure looked like you were just fine when you fucked me like I was a whore!” Your voice shook with indignation, and James couldn’t help but flinch at your words.

He opened his mouth to respond, but the weight of your anger made it hard to find the right words. He could see you seething, your body tense with frustration. “I was trying to be nice to you, James! I wanted to help you, but you just pushed me away like I meant nothing!”

Your tone cut through him, and he felt the sting of guilt settle deep in his gut. “You’re right,” he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I treated you like crap, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Fix it?” you echoed, incredulity dripping from your words. “You think it’s that simple? You can’t just decide to ‘fix’ things when you’ve already hurt someone! You have to earn that trust back, and you haven’t even started!”

James felt a wave of frustration well up inside him, mixed with a desperate desire to reach out and bridge the gap between you. “I’m trying! I really am! Can’t you see that?” 

“Trying isn’t enough anymore, James!” you snapped, your voice rising. “You can’t just show up with flowers and think it’s going to make everything okay. You’ve broken things, and it’s going to take more than just an apology.”

In that moment, you were a storm, fierce and unyielding. James could see the hurt behind your anger, the way you wrestled with the disappointment he had caused. It pierced through him, and he realised just how deeply he had let you down—and how much he deserved it. 

“I—I know it’s going to take time,” he said, trying to steady himself as his heart raced. “But I want to put in the effort. I care about you, and I don’t want to lose you.” 

Your eyes narrowed, scepticism etched across your features. “You care? After how you treated me? What’s to say you won’t just push me away again when things get tough?” 

The accusation hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension crackled, and James felt the weight of your anger pressing down on him. He realised that he had crossed a line, and now he had to find a way back—if you would even let him.

James’s entire world narrowed to this moment, this fragile, painful second, where everything hung in the balance. The anger in your eyes seared him, a raw heat he knew he deserved, but it was the disappointment—cutting and profound—that struck him deepest. He hadn’t known it was possible to feel so exposed, like a light had pierced straight through every shield he had ever put up, and now he was forced to face what he really was.

Slowly, he opened his mouth, his voice raw and barely holding together. “I’m… truly sorry,” he began, struggling to find words to do justice to everything that had been roiling inside him since the moment he’d pushed you away. “Since that night, it’s like… I’m lost. Every single night, I lie there, alone, and all I see is you. All I think about is… how you feel beside me, the way your voice calms me, how much I want to be… better.” He choked slightly, but forced himself to go on. “And I know I hurt you. I see it. And I… hate myself for it.”

Each word was a weight being lifted, but it only uncovered more buried shame. His voice faltered as he said, “I don’t know how to be enough. Every voice in my head just… it keeps telling me you deserve better. That I’ll only end up pulling you down with me, that… I’m a broken man who’ll ruin anything he touches.”

He laughed, but it was hollow, dark—a laugh tinged with self-loathing. “I can’t even look at myself in the mirror anymore because all I see is a man who’s become… something ugly. Someone who doesn’t deserve to be around someone like you.” His voice wavered, thickening as his throat tightened. “All I see is a monster. Someone who’s past redemption.”

Then, as if he could no longer bear his own weight, James lowered himself to his knees before you. The gesture felt natural somehow, a desperate attempt to be as close to you as possible, even if it meant bringing himself to his lowest. He looked up at you, his eyes wide and filled with a pleading sorrow he couldn’t hold back, his gaze full of the vulnerability he’d fought so hard to bury.

“I… I can’t go on without you,” he said softly, his voice trembling. “Now that I know what peace feels like, even for a few moments, with you beside me… I can’t go back. It’s like you gave me a taste of something I thought was lost to me, and now the thought of not having you…” He swallowed, the words almost failing him. “It’s unbearable. I’m… begging you, just… don’t walk away. Don’t leave me in the dark. Please.”

He looked down, his hands clenched so tightly his knuckles were white, and he whispered, “I want to be better. For you, Laura. For… myself, even, if I can figure out how. But I need your help, I can’t do this alone.” His voice cracked, and he looked back up, his eyes brimming with raw, pleading desperation. "Please let me prove to you that I can be the man you see. I want to be the man you deserve. Just… don’t leave me here, alone."

For a long, heart-stopping moment, James held his breath as you looked at each other in silence. He saw the faint, lingering shadows of hurt in your eyes, and in their depths, a softness—a glimmer of something he hadn’t dared hope to see. Then, slowly, you took a step toward him, and James let out a trembling breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

When he felt your hand gently find its way to his hair, a shiver ran down his spine. Tentatively, he pressed his cheek against you, leaning his head against your abdomen, as if finding solace in the very nearness of you. The warmth of your touch was a balm, easing the wounds he’d long hidden from the world, and in that moment, he let himself collapse into the comfort of your presence. His arms wrapped loosely around your waist, as he rested there, seeking the peace he’d once thought was lost to him forever.

The silence between you stretched, gentle and unhurried, broken only by his steady breaths. He could feel the weight of everything he’d been carrying start to slip away, piece by piece, as he nestled against you, his heart finally slowing to a gentle rhythm.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, you spoke, your voice soft but steady. “I don’t even know why I’m doing all this for you, James. I… I don’t think I even understand it myself.” Your hand moved gently through his hair, grounding him in a way he hadn’t thought was possible. “But… if I don’t, I feel like I’ll miss the biggest chance of my life.”

Hearing this, James closed his eyes, a warmth blossoming in his chest that was foreign and achingly tender. He nodded, his head nestling against you, soaking in the comfort of your words. In that moment, he felt like a lost soul, clinging to the only light in a world of shadows, and he held you just a little tighter, as if afraid that you might slip away. The sensation was almost childlike, and he felt a tear slip down his cheek as he gave in to that sense of safety, that warmth he thought he’d never feel again.

Snuggling closer, he let out a quiet, almost inaudible whisper. “Thank you,” he murmured, voice muffled against you, his tone layered with reverence. For the first time, he felt like maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t as lost as he’d thought.

You let out a soft sigh, fingers still tangled in his hair, and looked down at him with a firm gaze. “James, if you ever push me away like that again, I swear, I’ll slap you harder.”

A flicker of humour and self-deprecation passed through his eyes as he nodded. “I deserved it,” he admitted, voice steady, acknowledging not just the slap but the wake-up call it had become. He pulled back, finding his balance again, and when he rose to his feet, you offered him a small smile before finally accepting the bouquet.

James couldn’t help the slight catch in his breath as he watched you, his heart lighter now, the weight of his earlier dread slipping away. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “Tomorrow, Laura and I… we’re going to the beach. It would mean a lot if you’d come with us.”

A blush crept up your cheeks, and he found himself captivated by it, warmth blooming under his gaze. The sight tugged at something deep inside him, something raw and tender. He had a sudden, powerful urge to lean in and kiss the flush on your cheeks, to feel the heat of it against his lips, to let it anchor him there, beside you. And when you nodded, accepting the invitation, his heart leapt.

A smile—a genuine, unguarded one—broke across his face, and before he could stop himself, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. He lingered there, letting the quiet moment say what he couldn’t put into words, and then pulled back, his eyes soft and warm.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he murmured, the promise of a new day, a fresh start, held between you.

[winterrrnight]

touch starved rafe getting the hug he’s so desperately needed all his life <3 a rafe cameron x reader blurb <3 inspired by this bot by the one and only @pearlzier ! <3 cw: minimal swearing, mentions of blood, rafe being anxious, hurt/comfort, intentional use of lower case

“oh man…” rafe breathes out, his steps unstable with blood covering his hands and tear stains on his face as he practically stumbles inside your room.

“I’m… I’m so fucked man… so so fucked…” he mumbles, his words rushed and frantic. you rush to your feet after getting up from the bed, watching how he nervously paces in your room, his fingers slipping into his curtain bangs and pulling on the roots aggressively.

“somethin’s… somethin’s seriously wrong with me and…” he hiccups, his gaze fixed on the floor of your room as he continues to pace, and you watch him with bated breath, your hand gripping on the edge of your bed to keep yourself supported as you watched him with wide, nervous eyes, “and I don’t know what to fuckin’ do…”

you let out a shaky breath, a breath only audible to your ears as you continue to watch his nervous pacing. in your time of knowing rafe, you’ve never seen him so… fidget-y. you can see how he keeps on reaching for his nails to chew on them, his other hand nervously rolling a certain patch of the hem of his shirt over and over again between his index finger and his thumb.

almost suddenly, he quits with the pacing. he stands there still in the middle of your room, his back towards you. he quits with the fidgeting too, his both hands now resting on his sides, the blood on his knuckles now starting to dry up, and you can see how subtly he is flexing his fingers.

a moment of silence passes over you two. you take in a deep breath and it lodges in your throat as you start to take small, silent steps to him. you stand behind him, so close that with a soft nudge to the back of your head, your nose will press into his back. slowly, you bring your hand up, and as if he’s the most delicate porcelain doll on this planet, you place your hand on his back.

his back immediately flexes, and you hear him take a sharp intake of breath. your hand doesn’t move, your fingertips just gently pressing into the cotton of his shirt. a moment passes over you two in complete silence, and when rafe doesn’t say anything to you, you take it as a small sign and press your fingers firmer into his back.

you start to softly glide your fingertips over his back in an up and down periodic motion, and you hear rafe letting out a strangled exhale. your eyes flicker over his shoulders and you see them relax ever so subtly, the tense posture of them slowly withering away.

you continue with the soft motions of your fingers and rest your forehead against his shoulder blade, taking in a deep breath. your other hand curls around his fingers and you ever so carefully intertwine your fingers with his, not caring if any blood from his hand gets onto yours.

“rafe…” you whisper into the still air of your room. your voice reverberates in rafe’s ears, and he lets out a soft hum.

“turn around please…” you murmur, your thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of his hand. he obliges, slowly turning around and you lift your head up from his shoulder blade. he looks in your eyes through his own bloodshot ones, and at that moment you know you’ve never seen anything more heartbreaking than tears in rafe’s eyes.

you hook your arms around his neck and pull him into a warm embrace. for the first few seconds, rafe is stiff. really stiff. it’s almost like he doesn’t know what to do. but you know you’re supposed to give it time. you gave it time and he was okay with you softly rubbing his back, he’s going to be okay with this too.

and okay he is.

his arms wrap around your waist and his face buries into your neck. his grip tightens, as if he’s afraid he’ll let go and you will disappear into thin air. he lets out deep, shaky exhales against the skin of your neck, as if trying so desperately hard to keep himself in control.

“i’m here for you…” you whisper softly, your fingers playing gently with the soft hair on the nape of his neck.

those words… those simple words seem to set off something in him nothing ever has.

tears start streaming down his eyes, and this time, he doesn’t let them restrict in any way possible. he lets the tears fall, years and years of anxiety, the pain of not being enough, the tiredness of working too hard to prove himself all falling down to this exact moment; the moment where he lets his walls crumble down.

sobs erupt out from his dry throat and he slowly slides down on his knees in front of you, his arms wrapped tightly around your hips as he nuzzles his face into your stomach, crying his eyes out into the fabric of your shirt.

you feel your heart ache at the sight, him hanging onto you so desperately, and you try to comfort him by threading your fingers through the silky strands of his hair.

it’s as if you can see the remains of his crumbled walls around his knees. you can see how he’s completely let himself go, how he’s letting his most vulnerable state come out, how he’s trusting you deeply.

now it’s up to you and only you to help him clear the rubble of the old walls and build new ones, ones which allow him to trust and be trusted, ones which allow him to love and be loved, ones which allow him to appreciate and be appreciated.

— —

I’m trying my hardest to get back into a proper writing flow, so for now, I hope you enjoy this blurb <3 this is something I’ve been wanting to write for quite some time 💗

[vashs-turtleneck]

Muted.

✧ Nimble-fingered bonus chapter.

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+ ONLY) Summary: A teasing night on a rickety old couch with your beloved typhoon. Pairing: Vash the Stampede x f!reader Word count: 2.8k Content: smut, pwp, Vash swearing a lot, teasing and possessive Vash, finger sucking, p in v sex, silly little ending. A/N: technically a bonus chapter with some similarities to the first one, but you don't really need to read the first one to get what's happening. also vash's hands continue to give me unholy thoughts :3

18+ ONLY, MDNI!

“Haah… That’s it, mayfly. Just like that. Keep going.” 

His shirt and jacket discarded, tossed somewhere on the floor along with all your clothes. His pants are pulled down to his knees, just enough to give you full access to his cock as his muscular thighs cushion your own, bouncing yourself on his lap, filling yourself over and over again with his throbbing cock. 

Vash shuts his eyes tightly and lets his head fall back against the couch, letting you see the bob of his Adam's apple as he moans and groans out loudly into the room. His angelic noises mix with the sound of the withered couch groaning beneath the two of you, feeling the whole thing shift and creak with your combined weight. 

“F-Fuck, mayfly. So fucking good," he hisses, his palms planted firmly on your hips as he helps you up and down on him, blunt fingernails digging deliciously into your soft flesh, just enough to leave little red marks that you know you’ll be wearing proudly for the coming days.

You lean forward slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his neck. 

“You’re being too loud, love. We’re gonna wake the whole place up if you don’t keep it down.”

With an almost frustrated growl, Vash raises his head and meets your gaze, those baby blues half-lidded and filled with a deep, almost feral lust you don’t often see from the outlaw. He’s hungry tonight, completely starved for you and eager to get his fill of your body, and you’re more than happy to give it to him. 

“Not like I can help it. You’re so– ah! – so fucking tight. You’re killing me here!”

“I just don't want anyone teasing us about this in the morning, or a noise complaint,” you say back softly, trying to soothe the typhoon, but gentle words aren’t enough to stop an oncoming storm. 

Vash puffs out a deep sigh. You’re right of course, he knows that, but you’re making it damn hard to care about the noise he’s making. His eyes fix themselves on you, on your body, wanting to take it all in, wanting to touch every part of you, to see every inch of you. Watching the sway of your hips as you ride his cock, admiring the softness of your thighs, the bounce of your breasts, until those piercing eyes fall back to your face, a mischievous glint hiding behind his stare. Your body is perfect, like it was tailored just for him to explore.

“Then we better find a way to keep my mouth occupied." 

Vash’s hands run up the sides of your body, tracing your curves until he stops at your breasts. With his prosthetic palm, he gently squeezes your breast and rolls his thumb over your nipple. He brings his mouth to your perked little bud, kissing and lavishing his tongue over the tender skin before carefully catching your nipple between his teeth and pulling back lightly, only to dive back in and suck it into his scorching mouth. His other hand falls to the globe of your ass, squeezing your cheek as you bounce yourself on his cock. You feel his hand leave you before you feel a firm slap, making you yelp, gripping tightly and digging his fingers into the plush fat of your butt. He pulls and pushes you down onto his lap, forcing you into a slightly faster rhythm that has your cunt pulsing around him. 

“You are divine, angel. You know that? Makes me want to let the whole inn know that you’re mine," he groans as he parts his lips from your stiffened peak and keeps his eyes fixed on the way your face twists with pleasure. 

"You like it, don't you? Like the idea of everyone knowing who you belong to?" Vash grins at you as he feels you begin to writhe against him and your back arch from the sensation. His hand grasps your breast even tighter, his cold fingers massaging your nipple, squeezing it between his thumb and index finger, twisting ever so slightly and causing your moans to ring out in the room.

"N-No," you whimper weakly, but you feel your own body betraying you.

"Liar," he growls against the shell of your ear. “I can feel your pussy squeezing me, mayfly. I know you like it.”

He goes back to focusing on your nipple, and the way his tongue swirls over the tip of your breast has your breath catching, an uncontrollable series of pleasured whimpers escaping you as you fall victim to his loving abuse.

“V-a-ah-sh!”

His lips part from your nipple one more time with a quiet pop, running his tongue along his bottom lip and collecting the excess saliva around his mouth as he chuckles hoarsely at you. 

"You don't know what you're doing to me, sweet thing. When you whimper and moan my name like that, it just makes me want you even more," the outlaw purrs before he slaps your ass again, forcing out a groan out from deep in your lungs, your nails digging into the strong muscles of his broad chest.

“Look who’s the loud one now,” Vash teases, a wolfish grin splitting his face, clearly pleased with himself for making you lose control of your own voice. “Thought you were worried about someone hearing us?”

“It’s your fault,” you whine out with a pout, frankly a bit embarrassed that he can make you lose yourself so easily. 

“Hm,” he hums, that mischievous glint in his eyes ever present. “We better keep your mouth occupied too then.”

Before he can even give you a chance to respond, the fingers of his warm and calloused hand are already tracing your lips, kindly warning you before he shoves his two long middle and ring fingers into the warm channel of your mouth.

“Suck." His voice is so soft, yet his command is firm and clear.

Without pause, your tongue swirls around the long digits, hollowing your cheeks and inviting them in with your soft lips, rewarding you with moans from the humanoid typhoon. You can’t stop yourself from whimpering and moaning still, completely drowning in the pleasure of having both your mouth and pussy filled with nothing but him. His attempt at keeping you quiet is backfiring. 

“You’re still so loud. Having a hard time controlling yourself, mayfly? You're so cute," he coos, and you don’t miss the teasing tone behind his soft tone. “It's such a shame, really. You know I love hearing you, but I can't say I don't also love putting that little mouth of yours to good use.”

Vash leans himself back slightly, just enough to give him a full view of your cunt engulfing his cock over and over. He can see all of you, feel all of you– the way your pussy drools down his shaft and coats his thighs and balls with your mixed juices, the pretty white ring of cream you're leaving at the base of his dick, the subtle twitch of your hips as your core clenches around him. Then his eyes travel up to your chest, shamelessly watching your tits bounce with every little movement of your hips. His eyes don’t leave your breasts as he bucks up into you, pushing his cock so deep into you that you swear you feel the tip press a hot kiss to your cervix. The feeling makes you yelp in a mix of pleasure and surprise, jolting your body and making your breasts jiggle even more in front of his prying eyes. 

“Fuck. Look at you. Taking me all the way in. Good girl," Vash praises and smiles in a sort of reverence and satisfaction. “So beautiful, mayfly. So fucking perfect for me, just for me.”

His prosthetic leaves your breast, trailing down to the apex of your sex and rolling his thumb over your clit. The feeling sends a shiver up your spine, mewling desperately against the fingers in your mouth. Those long digits glide in and out, following the rhythm of your hips, teasingly pressing against your tongue and muffling the sounds of your sweet cries.

"That's my girl," Vash says quietly and shakily, his lips sliding along your jawline and peppering your face with tender kisses, his fingers massaging and pinching the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. His own hips start bucking against you, pushing his cock deeper inside you with each thrust. His tongue moves to your neck now, his teeth biting into it softly as he feels you moan out more. Your hips start to stutter against his, losing your rhythm under his merciless onslaught of pleasure.

“Ah ah ah, don’t get too distracted now, angel. Be a good girl and keep riding me,” he whispers against the column of your throat, chastising you and praising you all at the same time. “Focus, love. You've got this.”

Your hands clench against his chest, desperately trying to keep it together despite everything he’s doing to make you fall apart. You squeeze your eyes closed, willing every part of yourself into being good for him, steadying your hips and falling back into that euphoric rhythm that has you seeing white behind your eyelids. He’s being so good to you, after all. You want to be good for him, too. 

“That’s it. Fuck– yeah, that’s it. So damn good for me.”

He pulls his head back, keeping his eyes focused on his lap again, watching how your pussy sucks him back in every time you pull away.

“Squeezing me so damn tight. You’re so close, I can feel it,” he growls, and with one more gentle glide of his fingers over your tongue, he pops them out of your mouth, letting his hand fall to the plush of your thigh and giving it a firm squeeze. “Why don’t you let the whole inn know who’s making you feel so good, sweetheart?”

He’s right, of course. You’re not going to last much longer, and you can feel the heat rising to your face at his request. Such a dirty request from such a sweet man, but you’re in no position to deny him. 

“Vash…” you say in muted tones, and as soon as his name leaves your lips, you know that’s not what he wanted, a disapproving “tsk” leaving his lips as he clicks his tongue. 

“Louder. Who do you belong to?” he asks you again, carefully pinching your clit and making his desires loud and clear– he won’t let you off the hook that easily. 

“Vash,” you say again, a bit louder this time.

“Look at me," he breathes out, his scorching breath ghosting over your already burning skin. 

Your eyes flutter open, and at first, you can barely focus on him, your mind hazy from your oncoming orgasm. Those piercing sapphire eyes don’t so much as flicker from yours, regarding you fully and filled with nothing short of complete reverence, flooded with a primal, uncontrollable desire and an all-encompassing love for you – raging, yet serene. 

So this is what it feels like to be in the eye of the storm. 

“One more time, angel. Nice n’ loud. Make sure everyone knows you’re mine.”

His face is close enough to yours that you can feel his lips brushing against your own with every word he speaks, his fingers pressing firmly and circling your clit, turning you into a trembling mess on his own lap. 

“Vash!”

You cry out in your euphoric haze, letting yourself fall into the raging waves of ecstasy wrecking your body. Your core clenches down on Vash’s cock in your climax, your body begging for him to give you everything he has, just as you give yourself to him. 

“Y-Yeah– like that. Just like that, angel.”

He moans out in tandem with you, easing the pressure of his fingers against your sensitive bud and guiding you through your orgasm.

“A-Aah feels so good. S-Shit– I-I can’t– ’m coming!”

And with a sweet, broken cry of your name leaving his lips and echoing off the thin walls – a declaration to the heavens themselves of his love for you – his own hips stall, a delicious heat running down his spine as he spills himself completely into you, painting your insides white with his hot cum and leaving you feeling more full than you thought possible. He exhales a shuddering breath and eases the tight grip on your body, letting you slump down against him.

“I love you. I love you so much," Vash says breathlessly, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you to his chest, letting his face fall to your shoulder and resting his head against yours before peppering the side of your face with soft kisses. “You’re so good. Always so perfect for me, baby. I love you.”

You hum wistfully as he showers you with his tender affections, his touch so delicate and careful that it’s almost hard to believe this is the same man who was mercilessly teasing you and lovingly rearranging your guts mere moments ago.

“You okay, mayfly?”

You nod. “I’m okay, love,” you say back, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath, thighs still trembling against his own and shaky breaths mixing with his.

“Do you wanna keep going? Or do you need a minute? I can get you some water.” His flesh and bone hand comes up to cradle your face, tilting your head so he can kiss along your face the way he wants to. He’s barely recovered himself, and here he is concerning himself with your well-being. 

“I can– I want to keep going,” you reply, leaning your head into the palm of his warm hand.

“So eager, mayfly,” Vash chuckles against your cheek. “Good, ‘cause I’m not quite done with you yet,” he mutters hoarsely as his kisses turn more passionate again, his mouth focusing on the side of your neck, those sharp teeth gently nipping at your skin. “What do you say I get you off my lap and I bend you over this couch, huh baby?”

He already has you moaning again. He knows your body better than he knows his own, and he knows exactly what buttons to press to get you squirming on his lap again. Your response is a subtle roll of your hips, angling yourself so you can sink down onto him completely, and you can feel the groan he lets out vibrating in his chest. He may know your buttons, but you know his too. 

He pulls back from your neck, sapphire eyes drinking in the delicious sight of you. His lips part, but before he can speak, the sound of your heavy breaths is suddenly accompanied by a startling snap.

*Crack*

“Heh?” His eyes widen in confusion, your bodies stilling for a moment before you hear it again.

*Crack*

The surface beneath the two of you suddenly gives out, Vash’s hands instinctively wrapping around you and cradling the back of your head as you both fall back into the broken couch, its wooden supports having snapped under all the pressure. 

“WHAAGH– Eek! Ouch ouch ouch!” Vash whines from beneath you as he absorbs most of the fall.

“Oh god, are you okay? Are you hurt!?” you exclaim, cupping his face in your palms, your eyes darting between him and the wreckage surrounding you both now. 

No way that just happened.

“Ehh… I’ll be fine. My butt might be a little sore later though,” he groans, trying to sit up slightly. “You're not hurt, are you?”

“No, not at all. I'm fine. I had a big strong plant man to keep me safe.”

“What a relief," he sighs.

You two are awkwardly positioned now, Vash somewhat stuck in the wreckage of the broken couch as he keeps you safely planted on his lap, and you can feel his dick still twitching inside you.

“Hold on. Let me get off you. I'll help you up,” you say as you try to pry yourself off him. You try to find a surface to grab and pull yourself off of him, being careful with the bits of old, broken wood surrounding the both of you.

Yeah, this is gonna cost a pretty penny. That paired with how you just cried out his name so loud that it absolutely carried through the thin walls of the inn has you flushing a deep red. There’ll be no hiding what the two of you were doing when you have to tell reception about their broken couch. 

“Mayfly..?” Vash mutters, his big blue eyes looking up at you with a sheepish look on his face, his lower lip wobbling and sticking out in an adorable little pout. 

“Yeah? What’s wrong?”

He has tears forming in the corners of his eyes, cheeks flushed in… embarrassment?

“I think… I think there’s a splinter in my ass.”

a/n: picturing Vash with a little bandaid on his butt. Also guess Vash and couches don’t mix well (sorry)

divider.

[wileys-russo]

NOOOO now we need a pt 2 of cough medicine with a grumpy reader because alexia has passed the cold to her and alexia dressing up in the nurse outfit to surprise her…

lil sequel to this ! suggestive content at the end cough medicine 2.0 II a.putellas

"mi princesa i said i was sorry!" your girlfriend groaned as you scoffed and reached to grab the bottle of water on the coffee table in front of you.

"sorry doesn't make me not sick alexia i warned you!" you grunted ou in annoyance, pushing away her hands which attempted to massage your shoulders.

"bebita in my defense-" your girlfriend started, accent thick as she spoke english but the withering glare you shot her had her wishing she'd mumbled it in spanish and out of your earshot as she fell silent and your attention returned to the television.

"can i get you something?" the catalonian asked sweetly as you ignored her, tucking your knees up to your chest and pulling the blanket to your chin. "mi amor do you need anything? tissue, cough medicine, tea, soup, a hug?" your girlfriend smiled hopefully as you shot her a blistering side eye.

"for you to leave me alone." you grumbled, sniffling and wiping your nose with the sleeve of your hoodie. you'd even refused to wear one of alexia's and thats when she knew you were perhaps just a touch beyond the normal level of grumpy you became when unwell.

though really alexia knew it was her fault. you'd at first been strong and held quite firm to the no kissing rule when she was sick last week, needing to still be viable and healthy to look after her as well as work from home while you did so.

now to the average bystander they'd not know the true nature of your girlfriends incredibly clingy tendencies, but when her walls were down and it was just the two of you she melted like a icey in the sun, crawling on top of you.

if you didn't react fast enough she'd grab your arms and wrap them around her, tucking them up the back of whatever was covering her torso, the blonde mumbling into your neck she wanted back scratches and you'd often tease that if she got any closer she'd be inside your skin.

then when alexia was sick it was even more dire that she have every possible ounce of your attention and touch. so as the hours ticked by and you'd still held firm that her lips weren't to touch yours and she not get too close, her attempts to break you down also doubled.

unfortunately to your own detriment you also found yourself feeling a little touch starved, and the more effort alexia made to getting you to crack the closer and closer you stepped toward the edge.

but over and over you warned her that not only did you have to work but you had a music festival with your friends on the weekend you needed to be in fit and fighting shape for.

spoiler alert, a night of consolation kisses to cheer up your incredibly pouty and miserable girlfriend who was informed she'd not be fit enough to make the squad this weekend meant it was needless to say you weren't going to the music festival now.

it had been frosty for the last two days since.

you'd even gone as far as to put up a pillow wall as a compromise for not kicking alexia out of the bed much to the constant whining and apologizing and groveling and begging and pleading you were far too tired and unwell to give into.

"mi vida. por favor i do not know what else to do, i have said over and over i am very sorry!" alexia groaned again, collapsing into the sofa beside you, thumping into the cushions and hazel eyes burning holes into the side of your head.

"i told you, leave me alone." you huffed, well aware you were now bordering on overreacting but your dampened state of well being and the fomo of watching your friends all have fun at the festival without you was making it near impossible to move on from that.

with one final sigh and pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before you could push her away alexia did as you asked and left you be. and with the warmth of the blanket and your inconsistent temperature it didn't take long before you drifted off.

when you woke up it was to an all too familiar smell, lifting your head groggily and peeking over the back of the lounge you could see your girlfriend with her back to you in the kitchen.

you hadn't made a single noise but alexia could feel your eyes on her as she glanced over her shoulder and threw you a smile which you didn't return, though you also didn't turn away, resting your chin on top of the sofa and watching her as she cooked.

"are you making your soup?" you rasped out after awhile, unable to ignore the overwhelmingly alluring smell wafting closer and closer. "maybe." alexia grinned coyly as you rolled your eyes and flopped back down onto the sofa.

"not in the mood for cute." you quipped with a huff, stretching your arms out behind your head and tuning back into the spanish soap opera your girlfriends sister had gotten you shamefully addicted to, though alba never ceased to tease that you needed the subtitles on.

you glanced up when you heard someone clear their throat, looking up at your girlfriend for a fleeting moment as she stood before you and placed down two bowls of soup on the coffee table before your gaze returned to the television

but then when you realized alexia had done an outfit change, your head snapped back so fast you near gave yourself whiplash.

"hola bebita." she purred with a suggestive smile as you sat upright and covered your mouth with your hand, taking in your incredibly athletically built girlfriend in all her glory.

her glory being the ill fighting barely covering nurses costume that was yours which was sitting taunt against her muscular body.

given the fact it was made in your size and not hers, and she easily stood two and a half heads taller, she looked like one wrong move would have her bursting out of it like the hulk.

and so you did the only thing your body could do in the moment taking her in and the way her thick quad muscles had the garters wrapped around them about a millisecond from snapping, you collapsed backwards into the sofa clutching at your stomach, body heaving with laughter which rang around your empty shared home.

the reaction was clearly not what the taller girl anticipated as her mouth formed a small o and she crossed her arms, the way the sleeves ripped as she did so only making you laugh harder.

"hey! this was supposed to be sexy, not funny!" alexia protested with a huff, your head shaking to and fro as you tried to stop laughing for a moment so you could get a word out.

"cariño its not funny!" alexia groaned, a slight blush coating her cheeks as she shuffled closer. "oh mi amor you're forgiven. you're so forgiven!" you pulled your phone out and wiped a stray tear, snapping a few photos as your girlfriend gasped and tried to cover up.

"well this was not what i wanted but i am glad to at least see you smile again." alexia gave in with a shake of her head, moving to sit down beside you so you could both eat, grateful to hear her favorite noise once more as your belly laughter subsided into giggles.

but right as she did a strange noise sounded and your hand once more flew to your mouth, alexia now near naked beside you as the entire back of the ensemble ripped clean in half, your eyes raking over the taunt tattooed and tanned skin of her back.

"don't." alexia warned seriously, a pleading look in her eyes as you lost it again, sagging into her and clutching at your stomach as the sounds of your laughter filled the air. "amor!" alexia whined, clearly embarrassed as her hands flew to cover her own face.

"are you comfortable?" you teased, sitting up on your knees beside her once your laughter had settled, wrenching alexia's hands away from her face with a raised eyebrow. "no." your girlfriend mumbled with a huff and a roll of her eyes.

"so now you understand how it feels when i dress up for you." you hinted, eyebrow raising even higher as alexia sighed but nodded. "i have more muscles! it hurts more." the girl huffed, bottom lip jutting out into a slight pout.

"thats what you're going to take from all of this? ale i just forgave you, don't piss me off again." you huffed smacking her chest lightly as the corners of her mouth curled upward slightly.

"why not? it is what you are taking from this, no?" the slight smile turned into a full on grin now as she settled back into the lounge a little more clearly making an effort to flex her biceps and upper arm muscles as they sat folded behind her head.

"still not in the mood for cute. and thanks to you i'm sick, so if it was sex you were angling for putellas...think again." your hand smacked gently against her cheek a few times with a wink.

though before you could reach for your food your back was flat against the sofa and your girlfriend hovered over you, settling herself on her knees between your legs.

"you know bebita, there is still a lot i can do for you while you are unwell. but only if you are feeling up to it!" a singular finger trailed down your bare leg, her smirk widening at the goosebumps which arose in response.

"well you are a nurse, and it would be wrong of me to assume i know what i need better than a nurse." you smiled, alexia raising an eyebrow as she sunk a little lower, a few kisses trailed up your leg as you hummed, already feeling better as they got higher and her large hands gripped your thighs pushing your legs even further apart.

you sighed in pleasure and tangled your hands in her hair as her chin rested on your abdomen, looking up at you with a smile as she played with the hem of your shorts, t-shirt pushed upward and a few kisses placed to your stomach as your eyes fluttered closed and your shorts suddenly dissapeared.

"let me make it all feel better princesa."

[discomxcabre]

drain you

viktor x transmasc reader (t4t)

cw: angsty smut, dom!viktor, overstimulation, fingering, subdrop, sprinkle of gender dysphoria, aftercare, banter, mention of switching, smoking, hurt/comfort, cuddling in a dry bathtub, reader needs therapy, titled after a nirvana song

summary: viktor drains you and then refills you again. (he basically takes care of you when you're having a sub drop)

note: this req is from so long ago it's pathetic ><

hodný chlapec = good boy

nádech, výdech = breathe in, breathe out

jde ti to skvěle = you're doing great

art by @petitesieste, edited by me

First, he storm-tossed you by dipping his fingers in your hole and finding the sensitive spots. And his face showed that grin you always saw when he got hit with the awareness of control.

Your fingers hurt from clutching the sheets.

After this, his starved mouth met your folds, and you let him indulge in your depths. You dripped on his tongue, offering him your liquid. Your legs were shaking, but he held your thighs and what was between them, he ate till the bones were bare.

Then, he filled you with the glass length he measured for your inside. All that time, he spent lying between your open legs, not bleeding the limited energy out of his body.

And now, he drained you with tides of his unsatisfied cunt rubbing you where it impacted. And like these tides, you came again and again, drying a little and returning to that state, again and again. It returned and soaked you, again and again.

How many times have you came? The mattress was ocean abyss. Made of slick, sweat and tears.

You were a resilient man, indeed. A steady pillar was what the people's eyes saw in you. But not Viktor. In that unbreakable shell lied a pearl available only for him.

You let him open you, knowing he craved drops of control his frail physicality deprived him of.

He dyed your mind the color of air, and dipped you in the ocean, controlled by the will of his currents.

Despite the rest of his small body being cold, his core felt warm. Viktor rubbed your growth with his, quietly whimpering and putting on an accomplished smile every time you ejaculated waters onto his thigh and trembled under him. You were prepared for him stroking your head, while making you lick it off his thigh. He held you in place by his shoulders.

You felt small in the vast waters, despite being so much stronger than him. And you could always drop him off yourself, but why? Not now, at least.

Viktor praised you by tangling your fingers with his and putting up your hand to kiss it.

“Hodný chlapec.” He whispered. Your hand was trembling between his fingers.

Viktor’s clit pulsed evenly and grinded on yours so precisely, like he calculated every move. Typically calculating to create, now doing it to destroy you. Playing with your holes for an unknown time, just to stimulate his for when arriving to the finish. You hissed and Viktor stroked your cheek, covered in sweat and tears. You leaned to the touch, whining like a deprived cat.

He dripped down your growth, seeing your eyes watering and wet lips parting. You squirmed, or at least tried under Viktor’s pelvis and his lithe hands that grabbed your wrists and pinned them over your head. You were a tough man that had handled the delicate and precise fingers that spent their time tinkering and now could handle the cunt that nourished itself off your disarray.

Until you didn't.

Until the pleasure withered out, leaving just pain that made your body quake.

You gasped for air, splitting all the waters out of yourself. You pulled yourself up with your hands, as if you actually were saving yourself from the death by drowning. And trickles of sweat dripped down from your soaked skin.

"Ah-, fuck." You breathed, tears streaming down your cheeks. "Hydrangea..."

Viktor stopped, but you were still covered in salt.

“Do you wish to stop?” He said with soft voice that pulled you to the shore.

“Yes, please.”

“Okay.” A quick, innocent word, as he slid himself down your thigh. But you were still shaking, barely breathing. Tears dried on your cheeks and formed in your eyes.

“Miláčku…” His words were a light in the water. “Breathe with me.”

You focused on his breath – loud and manual, coming out of weak lungs. You tried to replicate it. But your body was still a puddle after everything he’s done. You swallowed air.

“Nádech, výdech.” He knew his mother tongue was an anchor for you. “Jde ti to skvěle.” He whispered, stroking circles on your chest.

Your chest was rising and falling, evening its tides, as Viktor murmured Czech words between his lips.

Viktor put on his boxers, grabbed his cane and stood up. After lighting up his cigarette, he threw you your sweatshirt and boxers. But your muscles were liquid, like the tears quietly flowing down your face. Viktor wiped them off with the sweatshirt.

Slowly, your shaking hands dressed you in the clothes. You sat on the bed. Your sight disturbed before you and your mind felt heavy. Viktor stroked your head and looked at the bed – a pond.

“You might be a bit dehydrated.” He sat down and handed you a glass of water from the bedside table. Sipping from a straw, you laid your head on his sharp, narrow and bare shoulder. Viktor, unlike you, was wearing just his boxers, not even braces.

“Do you need anything?” He said, stroking your head. “A bath, perhaps? You smell horrible from all this sweat.” He chuckled.

“Well, you’re guilty.”

Viktor only snorted in response and blew out cigarette smoke.

“Yes, I’d like a bath.”

Viktor stood up, steadying himself on his cane. With the other hand, he helped you stand up. Your legs wobbled.

“Ah, fuck.” You landed on a wall. “That’s your fault too, Viktor.”

Viktor sneered, leaning on his cane. “Do not pretend you didn’t enjoy how I destroyed your hole.”

“Next time I’m destroying yours.”

“I would be happy to agree.”

He let you lean on him, and this way you two went to the bathroom. The light switch clicked under Viktor’s hand. The glow pierced your eyeballs. You squeezed your eyes shut.

“Can you-”

Viktor only nodded, as if reading your thoughts. The bathroom changed back onto the comforting gray.  

A thing in you told you to do it – you sat in the empty bathtub, still clothed. Maybe you were just too tired to undress. The cold of the armature surrounding you felt weirdly comforting. You were hiding in it like a fish in the rocks.

Hiding, from what?

Viktor wanted to say something. But your breath shortened, and his grin faded. Just now, it hit you, the feeling of your chest having been spread open and drained of all blood. Air scratched your organs. You have opened yourself for Viktor to relish and now felt the pain. But… you agreed to this, didn’t you?

That’s why you couldn’t pinpoint the reason for another round of tears running down your face. You hid your face in your hands.

Viktor called your name.

“Hm?”

“Are you alright?” He was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, with cigarette in his hand.

“I don’t know… I don’t know what is happening.”

Viktor left the cigarette in an ashtray you have bought him. He put his healthy leg in the bathtub, then the other, kneeling between your ankles. His cold hand stroked your cheek and made you look at him, with your red eyes.

“Do you need something?” His voice was full of concern, with a scatter of self-disappointment. “Did I-”

“No!” You interrupted, tears staining your cheeks. “It’s not about you, I promise… It’s just me being hysterical and irrational.”

Words from your mouth made you want to tear off your skin, but that was just a fact – despite all your metamorphoses, right now you were a hysterical and irrational thing.

“You’re a human and humans are irrational creatures.” He said, getting closer. His face maybe centimeters from yours, and the distance gradually minimizing.

You felt his eyelashes stroking your forehead, and chapped lips kissing your tears. You wrapped your hands around his small torso and pulled him closer to yourself.

Viktor nuzzled his nose into your shoulder. Despite his body being so cold, he gave you such warmth.

“Oh, Viktor… If you knew what you make me experience.” You started. “As tough as I may be, you of all people make me feel so weak. But like, without a danger. Like I can open you my ribs and let you caress my insides, knowing you won’t rip anything out…”

Viktor lifted himself up, scrunching his nose. “How did you come up with that metaphor? Were you watching something in darknet?”

You giggled between tears. “And I don’t think they fully closed yet.”

“Your darknet tabs?”

“My ribs…” You laughed feebly. “I'm still not quite in the real world. I need time, and you. Come here Vik.”

Viktor laid on you again. You focused on his body weighing on yours, and a light pain caused by your shoulders uncomfortably pressing against the bath surface. But it was bearable, grounding even. And Viktor was here. Here, on your chest, pinning you not to let you swim away. Like an anchor. One of your hands traveled to his soft, brown hair, the other on his bony back. The world gradually became real, as real as your partner’s love and patience for you.

Your body became real too. Your skin sensed Viktor’s bony hand sliding under your shirt, landing on your ribcage and floating with your rising and falling chest, at the same time feeling your heartbeat. Your lungs were breathing air, heart beating, and your stomach was grumbling.

You tapped Viktor’s back to get his attention.

“Let’s order pizza.”

“That comes from your funds.”

[dazed-and-confused23]

Dear Hearts and Gentle People 7

Pure Indulgence 2

Summary: The only way Cooper wants any part in sharing you is if he's in charge. Hancock is fine with being ordered since he gets to be the one between your thighs. You're just along for the ride.

Pairing: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard x Female Reader / John Hancock x Female Reader

Warnings! Drinking and Drug use. Threesome. Smut and power dynamics? Blood too. Jesus this feels sinful.

Masterlist. Part 2 -> HERE

You lay on your back, head pillowed in Cooper’s lap, eyes glassy and heavy from the hit of jet Hancock had pressed to your lips on the way up the stairs of the Old State House that Hancock calls home. Cooper's scarred fingers have threaded themselves in your hair, keeping you still for the other ghoul that lays between your thighs. Your legs have been shoved up, knees swaying and twitch in the air.

"Don't be such a pussy, John," Cooper rumbles from behind you, and reaches down to pinch your nipple harshly, and he smirks when you sigh and bow off the bed, seeking more, "My girl likes it rough."

Hancock humms, and the subtle vibrations against your clit make you buck up, but John is stronger than what his lanky stature made it seem, and keeps you held down with ease. He abandons your throbbing bud with one last lingering suck, and sinks his teeth into the flesh of your thigh, making room for his hand to sneak up and shove two fingers into that beautiful, wet cunt.

Cooper watches, dark eyes focused on the way you wither and shake under the onslaught of having both of them touch you. The hand that John isn't using to finger fuck you with pushes your hip down, and he can't help but find the entire sight hot as fuck. He shifts behind you, pushing you forward so that he can bend down and seal his lips against your own in a furious kiss full of teeth and tongue. The cowboy bites your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, and the groan you make when he cleans the red liquid has his cock twitching in his boxers.

"Let a man enjoy his meal. Ain't every day that I get something as sweet as this," Hancock murmurs and flicks the tip of his to gue through your puffy folds, gathering the slick pooling from your cunt and lapping it up like the starving mutt he is.

Your mind is slow and muddled, a fantastic mixture of alcohol, chems, and blazing arousal that you lose yourself in.

"Curl your fingers up - heh, yeah, jus' like that," Cooper orders when he pulls away from your red smeared lips. Your eyes clinch shut when the tips of his fingers brush against that spongy spot hidden within your core. A broken sound of pleasure falls from your lips, and your thighs quiver when John does it again.

"Look at that, better than the smoothest hit of jet," Hancock drawls and cocks his head up to look at the other ghoul, lips twisting in a sardonic smirk, "Can I fuck her now, Sir?"

It irks him to call the other man that, but John wasn't one to pass up good things, and neither did Cooper it seemed like. So it wasn't too much of a loss.

Cooper’s grin is nasty, and he reaches out to hold the other ghoul by the jaw, the tips of his fingers digging into Hancock's jaw, and rumbled, "Ask nicely."

If John were still human, he would have blushed at the display of dominance. Instead, he grinned just as meanly back and hissed.

"Please?"

Cooper laughed, then released the other man, leaning back against the headboard in satisfaction. You squirmed under them, lips twisted up in a pout at their attention drifting away from you. Your cowpoke snickered, and waved a hand at John.

"Hurry it up, boy. The lady's gettin' impatient."

Hancock doesn't need to be told twice. He sits back on his knees and grabs his dick, and scoots forward to drag his cockhead through the mess between your legs. You whine in want, hips shifting, and looking for release. John angles himself and then slides inside your fluttering pussy with a long groan.

"Fuck," He snarled and buried his face in the crook of your neck, hips jumping forward as you clench around him. John gets lost in the feeling of your cunt, and you wrap your legs around his hips, meeting him thrust for thrust.

"She feels good, huh, John. Nice and tight like a goddamn vice," Cooper snarls above you, and the ghoul between your legs jerks a nod, his brow furrowed, and you turn your head, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses along his heated skin.

You nip his neck, tongue soothing the hurt, and you squeeze your legs around his hips, pushing him ever further. His cock brushes against that spit inside you again, and you see stars, mouth dropping open as you pant out nonsense.

It's over for the mayor when you bite him again, and then he hears your sex rough voice growl in his ear.

"Come inside me, John. I wanna feel it."

Hancock comes with a muffled shout, his shoulders shuddering as he pumps you full of seed. Your cunt greedily sucks him in, and he is left a panting mess when while you wither and cream around his cock. He doesn't get to enjoy it for long before Cooper is shoving at his shoulder.

John reluctantly pulls out and rolls to the side and watches as Coop takes his place and slides home. His teeth bared in a savage grin as he wraps a hand around your throat, leaning down and looming.

"My turn now, Sweetheart. Hope you can keep up."

[demolitionsweetheart]

Relationship headcanons

Tails the fox x Reader

(Written as mobian but is pretty general)

Request: Can I get a Movie Tails relationship head cannon please? Just say he's aged up if you think he's to young please. Thank you, have a good day or night depending on time zone.

A/n(please read!): I LOVE YOU. I'm so obsessed with tails rn he's sooo cute and I loved making these because I already have so many for him! ALSO, I know you said movie tails but I couldn't find good pictures so I used tails from sonic boom, BUT IT'S STILL MOVIE TAILSSSK(tho can apply to boomm). Hope that's okay :) soo sorry it took soo long btw. .

ও In his crush phase it's painfully obvious... At least to others. He would try to be impressive or brave around you but just crashes and rants or stumbles. He would know even the most specific things-your waist measurement, your sweetener preferences, your period cycle(if applicable ). It's honestly a bit pervy but it's cute how hard he falls <3

ও Tails definitely keeps anything sentimental. It could have your faintest scent and it would go in his little shrine thingie for you. He's a bit obsessed... Looking up to you in every way so everything you do is amazing. You could hit him and he'd justify it. Literally the most useless thing you could tell him is more important than anything anyone else had to say. He's very lost.

ও He's always making you inventions for any drawbacks you have, even small ones. He would try complimenting you in hopes that gets his point across but in the early stages he's just too flustered. Super dramatic with Sonic/knuckles or Maddie when he completely screws something. Over thinks everything when he said the wrong thing or didn't manage to confess even a tribute.

ও  When he finally confesses it's definitely not straight up. He'll give you some charm along with the sweetest words, praying the message lands.

ও The first couple days of dating are awkward on his end but so adorable. Wouldn't know when or how to hold you hand, when it was okay to hug you, how to kiss you, if it was appropriate to nuzzle you with his snout only a week into dating... He'd get flustered at simple cheek or forehead kisses(giving and receiving). For a while he was pretty touch starved :( he just didn't know how to ask and got nervous when you sat so closely.

ও Definitely the bottom in the relationship. You could walk all over him and he'd ask you not to stop. If you're jealous and call him something degrading like 'mutt', 'puppy', or just 'perv' he's not offended-hearing that is like a guilty pleasure of his in a non sexual way. When you warm up, he's very clingy and craves attention both physical and verbal, Even head pats :3

ও Eventually does start requiring affection to get through the day and is very dramatic when neglected-sighing loudly to get your attention, flopping onto furniture like he's been betrayed, or poking your shoulder every five minutes just to remind you that he exists, acting like he's withering away without you attention, only to perk up the moment you give him a kiss or ruffle his hair. His tails are a dead giveaway too-swiching happily when he's being spoiled, but drooping or giving the occasional flick when he thinks you've just forgotten all about him.

ও He has adamant cuddling habits. Doesn't matter if he's big spoon or little spoon he just loves being so close. He'll drape himself over you just to get you to give him cuddles but then He especially loves having his muzzle against your tummy and hug your waist. His tails will either wrap around your arm/leg or subconsciously swoosh out of content. He's nuzzling into you constantly and whines when you have responsibilities... So cuddle sessions often end with both of you passing out.

ও He's not jealous with close friends, but the second someone he's semi unfamiliar with is too short comfortable and touchy with you he's irritated. He's visibly upset, ears angled downward, lips pulled together in a little pout. He'll try and solve it either by trying to impress her or with PDA.

ও His love language is all over the place. He loves everything-gift giving, words of affirmation, quality time, acts of service, and physical touch. He's like a puppy and will do all the acts of service and gift giving for you to satisfy him either with your presence, touch, or praise.

ও Panics when you cry. He immediately wants to fix it so when it's something he can't it's hard to find comfort. When he can't fix it he'll just hold you, a little upset and conflicted with himself he can't stop your pain but he still there for you. regardless, he still promises he'll fix it ˃̵ᴗ˂̵ when you start to calm down he'll distract you with inventions or cheesy flattery. When he's the reason you're upset he's all on edge thinking about everythinggg he could have done and how he can fix it. He will do anything to make it up even if he just did something silly like forget to give you good morning kisses｡>_<｡

ও He's so hopelessly, head over heels in love, it's almost pitiful-though he'd never see it that way. Every little bit of affection you give, he treasures it :3 Your scent clings to his fur long after you've gone, and he'll bury his snout in your sweater or scarf just to feel close to you again. He could stare at your face for hours and still feel like he's barely scratched the surface of how lovely you are. Your tail, your voice, even your lashes keep him daydreaming the wholee day till he gets to see you. Why would he ever look in any one else's direction when he has you. No matter how much time passes, you still make his chest squeeze like it's the first time all over again :3

Requests are open still.. I am so sorry about the slow posts I've just been soooo busy. But please more tails requests!

Thank youuu

[suku-enthusiasts]

Heian Era Pt I || s. ryomen

❛ ❜ sukuna ryomen x f!reader || modern au

❝Growing up with the pink haired boy, it was no surprise when he put a ring on your finger when you both turned eighteen. The young man Sukuna Ryomen Itadori knew your dark life at home with your family, desperately trying to take you away. Until he is sentenced to 10 years of prison for keeping true to his vows… “I promise you with all of my being, I will protect you in anyway I have to, til the day I die.” And protects you he does…❞

cw ; mdni • 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol/weed. hurt/trauma. family trauma. consent/non consent. smut . anxiety. death.

pt II… pt III 🔥

main masterlist | series masterlist

“Do that thing with my hair, woman,” Sukuna muttered gruffly, eyes shut as he lay beneath the shade of the great willow tree, the wind shifting its long branches like silk threads above the both of you. You didn’t respond right away—just smiled lazily from your place beside him. Then, scooting closer, you draped your thigh across his waist and ruffled his soft, pink hair. “Oh, you are my big ol’ child,” you cooed teasingly, fingers slipping gently into his roots, making him hum like a purring cat. “I am no child,” he huffed, though his brows relaxed beneath your touch, lips twitching. “But I will put one in you, though.” You laughed softly, tracing the sharp line of his jaw. “As if that hasn’t been attempted twice before.”

Funny thing was—he only ever came inside you those two times. The truth? Neither of you truly wanted children of your own. The world was cruel. Life was fleeting. And there were already too many abandoned children left to wither in the rot of it. You two chose to gather the lost ones. Raise them. Feed them. Mend them with a love neither of you had been given. And so you asked him, the first time he buried himself deep inside you, to always pull out. Always. “My love?” you murmured, crawling over him until you sat atop his lap, knees caging him in, his arms falling loosely at his sides as you settled. “Ugh… why must you mount me like I am some beast of burden,” he groaned dramatically, acting as if your weight might crush him. You pinched his side, earning a grunt.

“Do you want children, my love?” you asked gently, peering down at him. “No,” he answered immediately, not cruel, just blunt. “You don’t want them. Why would I wish for what you don’t?”

“But if I did want one?” Sukuna let out a soft, winded sigh, stretching his arms out across the grass with his eyes closed. “Then I would want one. I want whatever you want.” You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his temple, your chest aching with the quiet, constant devotion in his words. “We already have wild ones anyway,” he added, smirking. “You scoop up strays like a cursed cat mother.” He reached out, poking your belly button like he always did when he wanted to make you laugh.

“Mama! Mama! Mama!” a small voice squealed. You turned just in time for Itsu, the little boy you found half-starved in a ravaged village months ago, to leap into your arms—naked and muddy from playing in the river, your perfect little heathen. “Oh, my sweet boy,” you laughed, clutching him tight. “Papa?” he asked, pointing at Sukuna with wide, curious eyes. Sukuna jolted. “Papa?!” Before the man could even protest, Itsu wriggled from your arms and ran to Sukuna, planting a wet kiss on his cheek before taking off again like a whirlwind. “That heathen!” Sukuna barked after him, cheeks tinged pink. “That was precious,” you said softly, lying down on his chest again, resting your ear over his heartbeat as the wind rustled the willow tree above. You fell asleep like that—warm, full, content.

And you never woke up.

It had been months. The coughing. The fatigue. The blood you discreetly wiped from your mouth. You never told him. You didn’t want to worry him. And it was too late for medicine, anyway—this was a thousand years ago. No tests. No hospitals. Only time and silence and prayer. Sukuna didn’t notice until it was too late. He awoke beneath that willow tree to the smell of iron.

Blood.

Your blood.

It soaked his chest. Pooled in your mouth. Dried around your lips, which still curled faintly in a peaceful smile. “Hey,” he whispered, shaking you. “Hey—wake up. Stop joking. Stop it—woman!” He shook harder. Nothing. His roar split the forest. It echoed down valleys, rippling out through the wind, so loud that even those in faraway villages paused, looking toward the hills where the willow tree wept. Uraume came running. They found their master on his knees, holding your lifeless body to his chest. They watched as the king of curses—the beast feared across generations—cried like a child, rocking your body in his arms, whispering apologies into your hair, wailing against your cold skin, and then he stopped. He laid you gently on the ground, and used every last drop of his cursed energy to destroy the core that kept him alive.

When Uraume reached him, he was gone. His arms wrapped tight around you. Your head buried into his neck. His face stained with dried tears.

They buried you as one. No one could separate you.

In the afterlife, there was nothing.

Just a void. Gray and still.

Sukuna was curled on the ground, weeping silently. His body trembled with a grief that had followed him through every lifetime. He had failed to keep you alive. And now he was cursed to live with that forever. “Why are you on the ground, my husband?” a soft voice asked. He looked up, breath catching. There you were. Radiant. Alive. Skin glowing like gold. Eyes warm with love. “You must’ve been so sad,” you whispered, crouching down beside him, running your fingers through his hair again. “Where… where are we?” he asked, voice hoarse. “I’m here to take you with me,” you smiled. “We’re going to be born again.”

“I’m a monster,” he whispered, his body shaking. “I don’t deserve peace.”

“Our creator doesn’t see you as a monster,” you whispered, wiping his tears away. “And neither do I. Come. Let’s go.” You stood, holding out your hand. He took it, rising to his feet, and you went. Together.

Through every lifetime.

Over and over.

Finding one another in new bodies. New lands. New names. Falling in love all over again. Always ending in one another’s arms.

And always beginning again.

Because no matter the century, the curse, the form, or the pain—

You were his.

And he was yours.

[mommyownsmee]

She smiles—soft, knowing, like she already understands everything I’m about to say without me ever needing to say it. And then she presses her lips to mine, and suddenly, there is no world outside of this. It’s just her. Just me. Just the quiet, aching gravity pulling us together, inevitable as the tide.

My hands drift to her sides, fingertips ghosting over the soft curves of her waist, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath my touch. She sighs into my mouth—quiet, breathless, open—and I think I might die from it. And then she tilts her head, her lips breaking away from mine, dragging slow over my jaw, down to my throat. Again. Again. Again.

Each kiss lands like a bruise waiting to bloom, like she’s sinking herself into my body, like she wants to leave something of herself behind.

Fuck. Am I dying?

Because it feels like it—like I’m falling under, unraveling, being pulled apart seam by seam with nothing to hold onto but the press of her mouth against my skin.

My fingers slip into her hair, gripping, desperate, needing something to anchor me before I dissolve completely. Her breath is hot, the slide of her lips against my neck slow and deliberate, pressing, claiming, pulling me apart with nothing but touch.

And my body reacts before my mind can catch up—arching into her, trembling beneath her, silently begging for more. Then, suddenly, the words are there, spilling out between gasps, raw and unfiltered and far too much.

“I love you.”

A confession, a declaration, a truth that has lived in my chest long before this moment. Maybe it was something she already knew, something I’ve been screaming into every look, every touch, every wasted second I spent waiting for her to come back to me.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

I press it into her skin like a prayer, like I’m trying to carve it into her bones, like I need her to feel it the way I feel it—undeniable, unbearable, everything.

Because it is the truth.

Because it has always been the truth.

And if love feels like dying—like the slow loss of self, the dizzying surrender, the aching devastation of belonging so fully to someone else—

Then let me die like this.

Let me fade beneath her hands, beneath her mouth, beneath the weight of what we are.

But then she presses her lips against mine, and suddenly, I am breathing again. She pulls me back into my body, drags me back into the world, wakes something inside me that I thought had withered the moment we let each other go.

And I let her. I kiss her back, deeper this time, slower, pouring everything into it—every moment we lost, every ache, every unanswered question I ever whispered into the dark when she wasn’t there to answer.

I want to erase every scar that made her believe she wasn’t enough, wasn’t worthy, wasn’t meant to be loved the way she deserves to be.

So I kiss her harder.

I grip her hair tight enough to make her gasp, to remind her that she is real, that she is here, that she is mine.

Because of everything we’ve been through.

Because of everything we lost.

And then—I wrap my hand around her throat.

Not to hurt her. Never to hurt her.

To make her feel the weight of this, the weight of me, the weight of all the years I spent starving for her.

To remind her whose air she’s breathing.

Always.

[fattorimunin]

Rupees Don’t Grow on Trees

The setting sun dragged its slow steps, sinking beneath the horizon like the weary travelers themselves, staining the sky a deep golden red, flecked with streaks of violet clouds in the distance.

Dust-covered and drenched in sweat after a brutal battle in the forest, the group finally reached a half-decent inn on the outskirts of a city after crossing a desolate old stone bridge. The surrounding area was barren, and the inn's faded signboard was barely legible, but inside, there were drinkers, women, and even children.

The rusted iron sign creaked in the evening wind, as if whispering a silent warning.

But no one cared. Everyone was too tired and desperate for a hot bath.

"Beats sleeping in a tree," Legend grumbled as he dropped onto the doorstep. His fingers were still trembling from the aftershocks of weapons clashing in combat.

"And it's cheap," Wild added, looking half-starved. His eyes were fixed on the fragrant aromas wafting from the inn's kitchen. Days of relentless travel had left him surviving on scraps.

"Something about this place feels off," Four said, his violet eyes gleaming warily as he glanced at the flower pots lined along the windows, most of them withered.

"No one's smiling, no one's talking. There are women and kids, but their expressions look... stiff."

"Maybe they're just tired. Like us," Twilight patted his shoulder and pushed the door open. A smear of black dust was left on Four's clothes where Twilight had touched him, but none of them minded. At this point, they were all dirtier than pigs in a pen.

The innkeeper, a short and chubby man with an overly enthusiastic smile, provided them with two rooms, hot soup, beds that looked clean enough, and a pot of strong-scented tea for each room.

"Thanks. Finally, a decent night's rest," Sky mumbled, rubbing his eyes. The moment he slipped on a clean shirt after bathing, he collapsed into bed, softly snoring almost instantly.

Night fell completely. Everyone was so exhausted they relaxed more than they should have.

Hyrule was the first to wake.

The night was still heavy, his head pounding as if someone had bashed a pot over it all night. Blinking, he noticed the room was too quiet.

"...Guys?"

He stepped outside the room and realized the entire inn was deserted—save for them.

Their bags had been rummaged through, rupees and even some gem-encrusted tools gone without a trace.

"Guys! Wake up!"

He skipped over Sky and began desperately shaking the others. They slept unnaturally deep. Even slaps didn’t wake them. It wasn’t normal.

Poor Hyrule nearly broke down until he splashed a bucket of water on the eldest member—Time—finally getting a reaction.

As Time groggily sat up and took in the chaotic scene, his brows knitted so tightly they could crush a mosquito. Without a word, he grabbed another bucket and began splashing the rest awake.

Everyone, now drenched and dazed, had no choice but to face reality.

"They must've used some kind of sleeping powder. Blown in through the windows while we were asleep."

Hyrule pointed to traces of white powder along the windowsill.

It explained everything. As a hybrid, the drug hadn't affected him as strongly, allowing him to wake first.

"We got robbed?!" Warriors dumped his pack upside down. Half his gear was gone. The others scrambled to check their belongings.

Legend stared at his empty hand, wailing, "Three months of rupees! They even took the ring I was wearing!"

Chaos erupted. Wild discovered someone had even taken his spare underwear. Why? No one knew.

It wasn't their first time being robbed. But it never got any less frustrating.

"I swear I put my rupee pouch under my pillow..." Legend growled, face twisted with resentment.

"That innkeeper was definitely in on it. That smile was too creepy."

"At least we're still alive," Twilight said dryly.

Wild munched on a rice ball to calm himself, mumbling about his missing underwear.

"You still have food?!" Warriors turned, eyeing him.

"Give me a bite, please. My stomach's eating itself."

"Nope," Wild said flatly, stuffing the rest into his pocket. "Last one."

"It won’t even fill you up," Sky muttered. "And I saw it roll around on the ground."

"Three-second rule," Wild replied between bites.

"Focus," Time barked, now fully geared up and clutching his still-untouched sword. "We need Wolfie's nose. We don't have time to waste."

Following Wolfie's trail, they moved quickly until the city's silhouette emerged in the distance.

"There's a market up ahead. A big one. They probably took our stuff there to sell."

Four pointed to a sign near the entrance.

"We can’t draw attention," Time warned. "This isn't our turf. No trouble."

Twilight muttered, "Tell that to Legend."

"Hey! I didn't even get a chance to cause trouble last night!" Legend stomped.

"All I want now is to find that innkeeper and—"

"Cuss out his entire family line?" Four cut in.

Legend: "...How did you know I was going to say that?"

By the time they reached the market, the morning rush had begun. The lively scene momentarily distracted them.

Just as Hyrule described, the place was chaotic but full of energy: rows of vendors shouting over each other, smells of spices and grilled meat mixing with sweet fruits in the air. Musicians played on corners. A troupe performed fire tricks and tightrope walks.

"Move fast. Before our stuff is long gone," Time murmured.

"Listen up. We’re broke. Not a single rupee. Worst case? We earn our way out. You all have skills. Use them. Find a way to make some rupees"

His gaze swept across the group.

"Pup, Sky, Wind—you’re with me. We’ll hunt the thieves. The rest of you, start earning. Even a little helps. We can't afford to be stuck here."

They split up into the crowd.

"Maybe I can set up a stall. Treat bruises and such. What do you think?"

Hyrule, the team’s healer, quickly found direction. He glanced nervously at the noisy market and looked to Legend.

"Go for it. Traveling healers are rare. Ones that don’t sell fake potions? Even rarer."

They gathered a few old crates and set up a modest stall. Legend scrawled a sign:

"Injury Treatment – Fast & Painless!"

Business was so-so. Legend was just helping with payments and crowd control, and honestly, he enjoyed the peace… until a drunken man staggered over, slammed the table, and scared off their current patient.

"Hey kid, look at this leg! I fell yesterday, can’t walk, hurts like hell!"

Hyrule didn’t even get a word in before the man plopped down on the medicine box, nearly crushing Hyrule’s hand.

Legend’s brow twitched. Then he opened his mouth.

"Maybe what you broke wasn’t your leg. Maybe it was your brain."

"What did you say?!" The man reeked of liquor, his voice like a broken forge bellows.

"I said, drunk in broad daylight, barging into a healer’s stall like a boar in a shrine. You should head to the butcher’s. Let someone check if your brain’s been pickled and served cold."

Legend pointed at him with precise venom.

"You little—"

Legend planted a foot on the crate, leaning forward with a grin sharp as a blade. "Yeah, I said it. And I’ll say more. You try anything funny, and I’ll make sure your legs and the little thing between them never work again. Next!"

The man froze, caught a glimpse of Legend’s cold violet eyes and his hand already on the sword hilt—and burst into tears.

He stumbled away, legs jelly, trailing something suspiciously wet.

Nearby vendors stared, then erupted into laughter.

"That mouth! Kid, you make a living off this?"

Legend rolled his eyes. "No, I—"

"Open a stall! I’ll pay to have you cuss out my clingy ex-fiancé. He won’t stop showing up!"

A vibrantly dressed woman bounced over, eyes gleaming.

"You serious?"

"Twenty rupees. Very serious."

Five minutes later, Legend stood beside Hyrule’s stall. Behind him hung a scribbled sign:

"Cussing for Hire – I Say What You Can’t. Loudly."

When the ex showed up five steps from her stall, Legend let loose:

"If you had even a shred of shame, you wouldn’t be buzzing around like a fly for the third time this morning. Even dogs know how to read the room. You? You look like you were born with your umbilical cord strangling your brain."

"One more step and I’ll yank that wig off and parade it around this market like a prize—see if people think your bald head deserves applause!"

Gasps, then laughter. The man fled, holding his scalp.

The woman beamed and slipped five more rupees and a meat pie into Legend’s hand.

Hyrule stared, slack-jawed. Legend had just earned twenty-five rupees… for yelling.

Then another furious woman stormed over, clutching a wilted bouquet.

"What’s your rate? I want him annihilated."

Legend raised a brow. "Who? Details first."

"My ex. Three years together. He proposed to me while flirting with our neighbor behind my back. The neighbor apologized—said she didn’t know he was taken! Tell me that’s not textbook scumbag!"

Legend nodded. "Certified. Where is he?"

"Over at the apple stand. Red cloak. Probably scamming another girl right now."

"Deal. Twenty rupees. He won’t show his face again."

He adjusted his clothes, walked into the crowd, and called out in a voice that cut through the market:

"Hey! Red cloak! The one smiling like he borrowed his lips from a cucco! Maybe stop stinking up the air. That sweet talk you’re using—didn’t you copy-paste that last week too? Or did you finally run out of recycled lies?"

The man froze. Legend smiled.

"When you got engaged, was your brain swapped for a toilet bowl? Three years of love flushed like garbage, and now you're strutting around like a prize cucco. Those flowers you gave her? Rotten now, but still more sincere than you ever were."

"You live by your groin and think with it too. Go home. Look in the mirror. Ask yourself if that face is worth three wasted years. Leave now and I’ll forget I saw you. Stay, and I’ll make sure no vendor here sells you so much as a rotten apple."

Silence. Then laughter exploded. One vendor even dropped his skewer.

The man fled.

The woman cheered and gave Legend another meat pie.

Legend took it silently. Four, walking past with crates, looked at the laughing crowd, then at Legend.

He quietly decided to set his stall somewhere far, far away.

[ppnuggiex]

　　　　　　OCTATRIO x gn reader

　　　　『　azul ,, jade ,, floyd ,, gender neutral reader 』

　　-> taking interest in their mer form

　　— fluff ,, sfw ,, crack ,, vulnerability from jade and azul ,, floyd being a pain in the ass

　　— some headcannons and writing blurbs for octatrio <3 they mean sm to me . might make dating hcs of them but genderswapped ,, or like dating them but theyre girls yknow ? 😭 i stumbled across some oneshots of them as girls on ao3 and now im becoming addicted to fem azul 😿🙏 also made little divider things <3 i kinda like them but they wouldnt become transparent 🤬🤬 so theyre just white n stuff 😞😞 as always enjoy and feel free to request :D

| • getting azul to trust you enough to show his merform took quite a while ,, a lot of patience and reassurance but it was worth it in the end

| • long tentacle arms expanding and curling with himself ,, flexing suction cups and reaching afar to stretch

| • face tinted red ,, glasses covering his eyes as he glanced downwards ,, his lips turned out in a pout as you gazed at his form

| • he was so sure you'd be disgusted ,, tell him never to contact you ever again ,, leaving him there in shambles with his heart broken

| • yet it never happened ,, rather the opposite instead ,, your eyes wide with excitement but voice soft and calm as to not spook azul more than he already was

| • a small " may i ?" with your hands outstretched towards him ,, ready to examine him as much as he'd let you

| • he'd only nod slowly ,, arms curling within himself once again and eyes darting around all over to ensure no one was near to see the sight before him ,, or in case he needed a quick getaway

| • azul is quite touch starved and touch sensitive ,, not used to having someone's hands over him in any sort of form ,, other than in violent means

| • how gentle you treat him ,, as though he were to wither away under your touch ( which he did feel like doing )

| • everything down under his consent ,, and his supervision of course ,, your brain and curiosity end up satiated ,, pressing a small kiss to azul's cheek in thanks for this memory

| • treasuring every touch you can get ,, reassuring azul that he's quite a beauty rather or not he thinks so ,, and last but not least a thank you for allowing this ,, for letting him trust you this much and that you would never break said trust

-

        cool to the touch yet smooth ,, your fingertips roamed over one of his appendages . azul sucked in a breath ,, eyes fixated on your fingers and awaiting for any depricating comments from your lips . though he never expected you to smile and whisper praises to him . " you're quite beautiful , azul ." it was small and short ,, yet it meant a lot to him . " i do absolutely adore the gradation from black to purple here ,, its quite lovely if i say so ." you murmured under your breath ,, eyes raking over his form as you played with the suction cups on the underside of his appendage .

        your eyes glanced back up ,, meeting azul's as they took in every movement of yours . " thank you for this azul ." you whispered ,, hands leaving his tentacle to wrap around his neck as you coddled against him . " i understand how private this is for you ,, how important it is . i really appreciate this azul ,, i'm proud of how far you've gotten ." you whispered against him ,, eyes still holding his as tears welded up in his soft iridescent gaze . his arms slowly wrapped around you ,, chest heaving as he tried to keep his composure around you . yet the more you sung genuine praise ,, the more his heart clenched in his chest and the faster his tears started to roll down his face .

        he allowed himself to bury his face in your neck ,, soft cries being blocked against your skin as your hand rubbed against his back ,, lips pressing kisses to his shoulder as you let him be vulnerable . " its okay azul ,, go ahead and let it out . i'm here for you ,, i promise ." you said ,, feeling his tentacles creep across your skin to wrap themselves around your torso . just this one moment ,, this shared memory of yours ,, he let his walls down and let you in ,, the vulnerability of his current state . your lips pressed another kiss to his shoulder ,, hearing his sobs start to die down as you rest your head against his shoulder .

| • its not often that hes surprised or caught off guard ,, like in this instance for example

| • he has caught your gaze before whenever he happened to be in his more natural form ,, how your eyes would eye him up and down

| • yet you never said a word about it once ,, keeping all your thoughts to yourself ,, all your secrets locked away

| • jade had gotten curious himself ,, curious of what you thought of him in this state ,, though he was never self conscious about it once

| • it didnt bother him whether or not you liked his natural state more than his more humane one ,, it wasnt of his concern to know or need that information

| • and it surely settled that way in his mind ,, at least until he got closer to you until eventually you both ended up together in a relationship

| • he couldnt contain the thoughts clouding his mind ,, it was near impossible to put a lid on them ,, as they would come back in a mere few hours to haunt him again

| • so when you asked to see his merform ,, he was quite ecstatic ,, caught offguard yet it wasnt an ask he would refuse

| • with the two of you in one of octavinelle's pools ,, alone together with jade in the water floating about ,, you on floor of the room with wide eyes and a smile ,, jade contemplated the emotions he felt

| • somewhat vulnerable ,, yet not in a bad way he supposed ,, watching as your eyes gazed all about him before you asked if you could touch him

| • his heart may have fluttered at that ,, but he wouldnt allow you to know that ,, eyes lidded as he swam closer to the edge of the pool and letting you feed your curiosity

-

        your hands reached out to the finals where his ears wear ,, stroking one softly with your thumb as jade laid his head in your lap . " enjoying yourself pearl ?" his sultry voice asked ,, mismatched eyes gazing into your own as he allowed you to fuel your curiosity . " yes ,," was all you could muster out ,, allowing your hands to trail over his scales coating his neck ,, collarbone and dragging down his arms . he was muscular ,, though not as much as jack was . you could still feel the flesh as your fingertips glided alongside his upper arms ,, digging in gently before moving on .

        jade could feel his heart pick up pace slightly ,, eyes widening slightly as your eyes shined ,, enthralled and mesmerized by his luxurious scales . you didnt notice ,, too busy being entranced at the gradation of his scales ,, eyes glazing over little nicks and scars he's gotten over the years .

| • similar to jade ,, hes been in his more natural state around you ,, noticing your staring and has teased you for it before

| • he'll call you out on how rude it is to stare before grabbing you off the ground and dragging you into the pool with a loud giggle

| • " shrimpy's so silly ! if you wanna look or touch ya just gotta ask small fry ,," he'll remark as he rubs his cheek against yours with his long body coiling around you

| • even then it takes you a while to finally ask ,, a gentle night at the beach during sprink break having mustered up enough courage to ask

| • floyd didnt mind ,, enjoying your flustered state as he allowed you to rub your hands on his scales

| • who knows he may try to get you to itch a spot for him that he cant reach ,, or splash water onto your face with his tail

| • he'll laugh as you grumble about ,, trying to wipe the water away only to be met with even more water ,, this time using his hands instead of his tail

| • when joining him in the water you have to be careful of what you do ,, after all if you do try to run from his grip he'll only take it as indication that you wanna play chase

| • like a snake he'll slither within the water ,, hands reaching out to grab at you and pull you close to him

| • on days he happens to be more chill for the time being he lets you gaze all over ,, not bothering to call you out on your obsessive staring

| • its moments like these that you can observe floyd in his beauty ,, rather than trying to escape it

-

        " floyd !" you grumbled as he splashed water at your face ,, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut . " for five seconds can you not splash me ?" you asked. he could only shrug ,, dorky smile on his face . " shouldn't have been starin' ,," is all he'll say ,, waiting for you to open your eyes only to splash you again . at that moment ,, you didnt care anymore and lunged forward at him ,, arms wrapping around his neck as you tried to splash water into his face as payback .

         unfortunately for you ,, he'd already dived underwater and dragged you along with him without warning . when you let go and resurface ,, he's at the other end of pool laughing at your flailing arms . " for one minute can i admire you ?!" you huffed ,, glaring over in his general direction as you swam towards the ledge of the pool . it doesn't take long until hes coming up right behind you ,, grabbing at your waist and bringing you back to him . " all you had to do was ask shrimpy ." he'll say as he floats along his back ,, you ontop of him and in his arms as he lets you look him over with adoration in your eyes .