#I'm physically and mentally going insane for this man

[bk-4-trash-fire]

Me when me.. me when ven.. me eh.. me when venti

Not to be a venti kisser but i bet he wears sweet flavored chapsrick and his lips are really cute and i may or may not want to kiss them rn

[welcometogrouchland]

I will feel so tired that it's like my atoms are coming undone and I'm being made unreal...and then I will have a little chocolate treat and for 15 minutes I am whole and present again. Then the horrors

[caninecowboy]

i'm growing stronger >:3

[liinos]

the way my head is spinning trying to plan out my fucking day today... i need to stop agreeing to things and also my neighbors need to stop having their dogs eat and go out and such at the same time

[simpjaes]

okay but drunk sex with Jay where you're completely sober but he's drunk out of his mind and the nasty, perverted, desperate side that he keeps hidden is getting revealed by the second cuz man cannot keep it in his pants ( yesterday's pics did something so carnal to me I'm afraid)

Your normal every day boyfriend Jay is no where to be found tonight. With his hands grabbing harder, his kisses that are bruising, his deep and almost concerning gazes at you.

You'd have thought though, that after getting him in the car to come home, seeing as how he's so fucking gone on that whiskey, he would have simply passed out upon touching the first soft and sleepable surface at home.

Well, it seems the alcohol doesn't make him drowsy like it would any normal person. Here he is, showing you what his hands wanted to do to you all night, kissing you harder, harder, harder. Everywhere, until his lips almost sting any surface of your skin he's already gotten his mouth on.

It's the way he fucks that really has you thrown for a loop though. On any other night with him, he'd be lending you the comforting, sweet, and perfect experience of being his pillow princess. Honestly, he does just about everything for you save for the times he's tired, and needs to simply lay back and be ridden.

You're still being a pillow princess, per se, but...it's not because he's trying to spoil you. It's because you couldn't do anything aside from just taking it, even if you wanted to.

He's not restraining you physically, but mentally you've gone insane over how he's loving you right now. Hard presses, plunging in and out of you at a pace he'd never given to you before. Whispering slurred dirty talk, showing how desperate he is for you. Drooling at the corners of your mouth when he kisses you, sucking on your tongue, licking your cheeks. Just going absolutely feral for everything that is you when he's in this state. You're in a daze at it, blindsided that Jay has a side like this to him when, normally, he's calm and collected. He's always got you in mind and his pleasure comes second. This time though, his pleasure comes first. And fuuuuck, you need to tell him how much you like this because if anything, when he's chasing for his release, yours seems to come even faster without any effort on his part. After all, you've gotten off twice already and you still don't think he's noticed.

[formulawolff]

"my hero" - m.v.

pairing: social worker!reader x max verstappen

word count: idek tbh (i’m posting this on my lunch break hehe)

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, max in bf mode, long distance couple, cursing here and there, mentions of mental health, mentions of mental health disorders, mentions of physical health, yada, yada, yada

a/n: i know i said i was working on requests but this idea would not leave my brain all day. i couldn't stop thinking about it so i had to write it. (it's def a little self-indulgent) i hope y'all enjoy!

"ah! there you are. i can see you now!""

a giggle bubbles up in your throat, your lips forming a wide smile, "hi baby, how are you?"

he shrugs, the image distorted for about a millisecond. he comes into frame once again, slightly pixelated. however, you can make out the sleepy grin plastered across his face, and the twinkle in his eye as he looks into the camera.

max verstappen, three time world driver’s champion, is on facetime with you, donned in nothing but a black cotton tee and his boxers. you can tell from the background that he’s in his motorhome, settled in his room.

his hair is a disheveled mess, sticking up haphazardly. he more than likely just got out of the shower, as the fabric of the tee clung to his toned frame. underneath his eyes were two faint circles, the skin slightly puffy.

yet, here he was, calling you at god knew what hour just to hear the sound of your voice.

"tired. very fucking tired."

"i can imagine so," you nod, typing along at your laptop, "what time is it there?"

he hums, leaning over his phone, "it's about eleven thirty?"

"max!" your eyes widen, "you need to get some sleep. it's qualifying tomorrow!"

"and?" he counters, arching a brow, "i wanted to hear how your day went. from your messages, it seemed like it was quite eventful."

"i'm just wrapping up my notes now," you exhale, your shoulders slumping slightly, "it was a long day."

"i can imagine my baby," he coos, settling underneath the covers, "tell me all about it."

"i can assure you being a case worker is not nearly as riveting as a formula one driver," you snort, shaking your head, "you go first."

"nope," he was not budging, his attention still fixated solely on you, "tell me about your day, and then i'll share about mine. it's only fair."

"well," you wrinkle your nose, glancing over the open document on your laptop screen, "my day started with one of my clients experiencing a small crisis. she was without food so she called me, asking if i could take her to the nearest pantry. while i was with her, another client of mine called asking if i could transport him to his appointment.

i probably could have, but he reached out to me only fifteen minutes before his appointment time. i received my new staffing form today. i have a couple of clients who are in need of housing so i had to make some calls to some local agencies."

"and how did that go?" you can't help but feel heat flourishing into your cheeks at the intrigue laced in his tone, "were you able to make some progress?"

"not really," you inhale sharply, "housing is really difficult to find right now. it's sort of like when your tires are giving out, but you need them to last a few more laps. you have to remain hopeful so that you can keep pushing."

“i like that analogy,” he fights a yawn, but continues regardless, “that’s a good one. i’m going to use that.”

“as long as you credit me,” you muse, clicking your mousepad as you finalize your note, “how was practice today?”

“so-so,” he chirps, “i missed you a lot today. thought about you nearly every second of the practice session. you’re flying out next week, right?”

you nod, shutting your laptop, “yes. i’ll be leaving wednesday evening and catching a late flight. hopefully when i land, there will be this insanely handsome dutch man waiting for me.”

“is that right?” max’s dimples appear, causing your heart to skip a beat, “i’m hoping that my good luck charm arrives safe and sound. i can’t wait to see her.”

“counting down the minutes are we?”

“you have no idea,” carefully, he plucks his phone from his makeshift stand, bringing you closer into the bed with him, “will you stay on till i fall asleep?”

at his request, there’s a tug at your heart. fuck, if only you were with him. then he would have been able to lay on you until he dozed off. his head would have been snuggled into uour collabone, your hands tangled in his hair, playing with it as his chest steadily rose and fell.

if only you were there. if only you were an influencer or a model. if only you could take work with you, dropping everything to fly all over the world. if only you weren’t separated by time zones, where you had to carefully coordinate facetime calls.

if only you weren’t long distance, then maybe you wouldn’t feel like this.

if only.

“hey,” max’s voice is merely a whisper, “are you okay?”

your lower lip trembles, tears welling up, threatening to spill over. there’s a choking sound, as you attempt to suppress a sob.

yet, it was too late. they were streaming down your cheeks now, your hands instinctively shielding your face.

“baby,” max murmurs, “what’s going on?”

“this shit sucks,” you shake your head, the words strained, “i hate that i’m not with you right now. i hate that we’re long distance. i hate that i have to stay here and—“

“but your clients need you,” his tone is delicate, “you’re the one person they can count on when everything else is going to shit. they need you like i need you. i can tell you had a long day baby, but i’m here. i’m here for you, no matter what.”

“i-i love you,” you manage to sputter out, wiping your cheeks, “i love you, max.”

“and i love you more than you’ll ever know,” in the frame, a pillow is held against his chest, “i’m even cuddling this pillow right now pretending that it’s you.”

“i can’t believe you fell in love with some plain girl from the states,” you sigh, resting your head against the couch cushion, “out of everyone in the world, you happened to fall in love with me.”

“you’re not just any girl from the states,” for a moment, you’re shocked at the firmness in his tone, “you’re my girl. it takes someone special to do what you do. you’re my hero baby. i aspire to be as strong as you.”

“i love you,” the corners of your lips curl into a quaint smile, ���am i really your hero?”

“of course,” it doesn’t even take him a second to respond, “like i said, you’re the strongest person i know. you inspire me.”

“i can’t wait to see you,” you murmur, taking note of the way his eyes were drooping, “i’ll stay on till you sleep, my love. it seems like you need it.”

“hey,” one eye opens, barely a slit, “i know this shit sucks right now, but we’ll make it. okay? one day you’ll get to come home to me and tell me all about your day rather than calling. it’ll be worth it. i promise.”

“i hope so. i love you, maxie. sleep well, my love. i’ll be there before you know it.”

“try to have a good evening,” you could barely make out the statement, as he was beginning to doze off, “just end the call when i’m asleep. i’ll message you in the morning.”

“i’ll be here,” opening your laptop, you prop it against the screen, “goodnight, maxie.”

“night, night, baby.”

as sleep takes a hold of the dutch driver, you remain on the call, opening youtube. cautiously, you click on one of your favorite videos. it’s a montage of all of max’s wins, starting from the 2016 spanish grand prix.

the video begins to play, the volume carefully adjusted so that it doesn’t wake him.

as your gaze shifts to your phone once again, you can’t help but hear his words ringing in your ears.

one day this would all be worth it.

and one day, max verstappen would be able to be with his hero.

every single day for the rest of his life.

[loganhowlettshousewife]

Okay relating to a recent post, cleaning up Logan after a fight/mission? Maybe you have a kit ready to go when you hear him return, put his favorite pjs on a fluff cycle so they're nice and warm for him. You clean off any blood (maybe a few remaining wounds if it was BAD bad), and wipe down his claws. Maybe shower together, letting you run your fingers through his shampooed hair before getting cozy for the night

I just wanna take care of him

you! you get it!!

comfort

summary: you take care of logan after he comes home from a mission.

cw (treating this like ao3 tags): blood, wound tending, non-sexual intimacy, nudity, not proofread at all, english isn't my first language so beware, reader has hair, i'm pretty sure this is gender neutral but i'm a girl so i may have accidentally added something gendered without realising idk. this is very soft! you can say this is out of character for logan but i believe he's actually a big softie and just wants love!

word count: 1619

logan comes home to you sitting on the couch reading a book. or, well, you’re trying to read, but it’s hard to focus on anything when logan’s out on a mission. you know he can’t die, his regenerative healing factor pretty much guarantees that, and yet there’s still an irrational spark of fear that lives in you, lighting a fire in your heart every time he gets called away by the x-men.

every minute that passes is a dagger, every new star that appears in the sky a reminder of how long he’s been gone. missions for the x-men can be mere hours or last for days, you remind yourself, and time has nothing to do with how dangerous it is.

though logan typically only gets chosen to go on the dangerous missions. he’s not the one they ask to convince new, young mutants to go to the school. he’s too harsh, too jaded.

you immediately drop the book when you hear the sound of the door lightly creaking open. you’re on your feet in an instant, there to catch logan when he falls into your arms, sweaty and bloody and tired - not as much physically, he has insane stamina, but mentally.

“missed you,” he mumbles into your hair, tucking your head under his chin.

“missed you more,” you reply.

you stay like that for a few minutes. you both need the comfort. early on in your relationship, logan would refuse this type of comfort after a mission, claimed he didn’t need it, he’s fought and killed his entire life and never had a sweet thing like you to take care of him when he got back. but you did, you needed to know he was there, with you, a physical presence, proof that nothing terrible had happened to him.

secretly, he revelled in those moments. now, he trusts you enough for those feelings to be spoken out loud, whispered reverently between “i love you”s, declarations of affection and faith. you’re the only one who’s ever been able to get him to open up this way, to verbalise his feelings instead of swallowing them down.

“you’re covered in blood,” you comment, running a hand down his chest.

he shivers, “most of it’s not mine. but they got a few shots in.”

you hum, pulling back to take a better look at him. his shirt is torn in a few places, and in the middle of his chest are multiple neat, round holes in the fabric, small marks showing where bullets pierced his skin. the wound itself has healed, but the blood remains, a visual reminder of the pain your boyfriend was feeling not so long ago.

he may heal quickly, but he still feels pain, feels agony, and your heart shatters at the way others seem to forget that, so quick to put him in the line of fire. he’ll be fine, they say, and while that may be true physically, there’s only so many times a man can play human shield before he breaks.

“let’s get you cleaned up,” you say, the next part of your routine for when he returns from missions. 

it’s a dance you’ve almost perfected, the way he wraps his arms around your waist and you have to walk to the bathroom with him clinging to you. 

he sits down on the closed toilet seat, closing his eyes and letting you do all the work. his claws come out next, stained with the blood of those he harmed and killed, yet you trace them softly all the same. they protect you - he protects you, really, and so you’ll always be grateful for them, even when logan considers them a curse, a stain upon his existence, turning a man into a monster.

you grab a washcloth and dampen it, wiping meticulously at each sharp blade, from his knuckle to the pointed tip of the adamantium. soon, the washcloth is stained a dirty red, almost brown in its appearance, and the metal gleams brightly under the bathroom lights.

there’s an ease to his posture when he retracts his claws, so slight a difference that no one else would have noticed. he told you once that he can feel the blood remaining on his claws when they pull back into his skin, that it’s an uncomfortable reminder that he’s hurt people, that he’s a killer.

he doesn’t clean them himself, says the reminder is necessary. you disagree, and so you took to wiping them down yourself every time he came home after any sort of fight.  

there’s a small spot of blood between each of his knuckles where the claws pierce his skin, the tiniest bit of red that welled up before the cuts could heal themselves and you wipe that away too. then you lean down to press soft kisses to his hands, the part of himself that logan hates most.

he sighs, a shaky exhale leaving him at the sight of you lowering onto your knees to worship him, to prove your adoration.

any other time that would be enough to turn the mood of the evening into something much different, but he isn’t willing to give this up quite yet, this soft intimacy that’s always felt so foreign to him, a type of love he’d convinced himself he would never get to experience.

“i’m gonna go throw our pajamas and a few blankets into the dryer. you can get the shower going in the meantime, ‘kay?” he agrees easily, of course, and you lean up to kiss him, slow and soft.

pulling away is almost physically painful but you manage. you find the fluffy hello kitty pajama pants you originally bought for logan as a joke as well as the matching set you bought yourself and grab the blanket that sits at the foot of your bed, throwing them into the dryer to warm them up.

he sleeps naked most days, a blessing for you, but on his more difficult days he likes to cuddle up to soft, plush fabrics. besides, you like to think that the silly pajama pants bring him comfort, a reminder of your love for him, that you’re thinking about him even at the most inopportune of times.

he’s in the shower when he returns, the water tinged pink as it slides down the hard, muscled planes of his body. you’re quick to undress and join him, stepping under the hot water, feeling it soak into your hair and skin.

“you’re gorgeous,” logan says, grabbing onto your waist with his large hands to pull you to his chest. he brushes your wet hair out of your face. “can’t believe how lucky i am to have you. what did i ever do to deserve you, sweetheart?”

“you don’t have to do anything to deserve me, logan,” you say, “just being you is enough. and really, you do so much for me. every day.”

“loving you is the best thing i ever did,” he admits, “i’m gonna continue to do whatever i need to keep you. wanna be with you until i die.”

you’ve had conversations like these before, usually always in moments of vulnerability, often coming after devastation and horror. he doesn’t say these types of things in the light of day, but he doesn’t take them back later either. they just stay, floating in the air between you.

one day, you think, you’ll be able to have a real conversation about the future with him. it’s a goal to look towards, but he’s not quite there yet, and you’re okay with that. you’re content with what he does tell you, praise that he marks into every inch of your body.

you use your body wash to clean him, knowing he’ll smell faintly of you afterwards, and the possessive part of you is pleased. your hands tangle in his hair, scrubbing the shampoo into his scalp. his head is tilted down so you can have better access. 

it gets harder to finish cleaning him as his body leans into yours, two magnets always seeking each other. 

you exit the shower before him, allowing him a few more seconds under the water pressure to pull the last remnants of tension from his form. you pat yourself dry and then hurriedly grab the garments you’ve thrown into the dryer, stepping back into the humid bathroom as logan turns off the water.

the adrenaline has made way for bone-deep exhaustion, and so you help logan dry off.

it’s peaceful, quiet, as the two of you finish your nighttime routines. he brushes his teeth and watches you do your skincare routine, unwilling to go into your bedroom if you’re not by his side.

he falls asleep before you, for once. typically, he struggles to fall asleep, worried about the nightmares that plague his slumber and the possibility of harming you while unconscious. it’s nice to see him sleeping peacefully, the stern lines of his face flattening into a soft tranquillity that only you get to see.

you can feel your eyelids growing heavy but you need to watch him just a little longer. so you fight the darkness that wants to pull you under, focusing on the hand you have placed on logan’s chest, the way you can feel the steady rising and falling of his breathing, the way his warm skin feels against the palm of your hand. 

“i’ll always come back to you,” he’d told you once when you had expressed the worry that seizes hold of you whenever he’s away for long.

you’re smiling when you fall asleep, those words replaying in your mind. he’s home, with you, and as long as he comes home to you everything will be okay.

[mrpenguinpants]

Low Battery Warning - Touch Starved HCs

— If he goes too long without you by his side, he starts to get irritable and too frustrating for anyone to deal with. For the sake of everyone, please remember to recharge your battery before leaving for extended periods of time.

— Tartaglia, Kaveh, Ayato, Alhaitham, and Dottore

Semi Part 2 For Dottore: Ttorschlusspanik [Masterlist]

I JUST WANT TO WRITE WHIPPED MEN OKAY? What do you mean I have to write a part 2 for two different fics??? I'm honestly surprised I managed to finish this. Also, ALHAITHAM NATION REJOICE, YOUR BOY IS HERE AND I CAN FINALLY MAKE A BANNER. I wasn't going to write him (I'm a kaveh stan) but now that he's here...

Tartaglia

While Tartaglia is the most favored to work with compared to the other Harbingers, that's only by a very slim margin. The closest you'll get to death is when the man gets bored and randomly picks someone to fight, but they usually make it out alive. Maybe a couple weeks in the medical bay and a few broken bones but they aren't dead for the most part. He's also the youngest and therefore the most easy-going even if he's a bit childish. He's a soldier first so he knows the pain of listening to someone verbally beat you down and not having the power to do anything back. But he's still a person at the end of the day and after so many people messing up and delaying his work, he's starting to get irritated. First, it was someone spilling tea onto important documents that he just finished signing, then the Fatui agents stationed near Jueyun Karst being defeated by some no-named treasure hoarders, and then finally being held hostage in his own office because the Liyue Qixing wouldn't leave him alone. God, he slumps over his desk, he just wants to go home and see you!

By the time he finally stumbles through the door, you're already passed out on the couch. He can't blame you, it's very late into the night and he would probably be more upset if you forced yourself to stay awake just to welcome him home. But he can still pout that he was taken away from you for so long, he didn't even get to see you all day. That's borderline torture. But he supposes he can forgive you since you look so cute bundled up in his red shirt. If he happens to take a picture or two that's for his knowledge and eyes only. So he easily scoops you up into his arms, taking a couple seconds to just stand there as he basks in the comfortable weight before he takes you to bed. Just for tonight. This will be the last time work takes him away from home for so long.

It lasts for two weeks. Usually, Childe could hold himself together, he's been away for far longer, but the fact that you're right there and he can't hold you is driving him insane. By the 14th day, Childe is ready to snap his pen in half and hurl it at the next person that comes through that cursed door. He doesn't though because it's usually Ekaterina, the only one that has the balls to talk to him right now, and she deserves far more than she's paid to deal with. But he's touch-deprived and tired. Even Zhongli with his infinite amount of patience advises him to sort himself out before inviting him out to lunch next time. He tried to deal with it on his own, this isn't the first time he's felt claustrophobic, but after the fifth Hilichurl camp he doesn't feel any better which only makes his mood sour further. He might even beat Scaramouche in how short-tempered he is right now. There's heavy air wherever he goes and whatever carefree persona he usually has on is thrown out the window.

It's Zhongli who clues you into how bad Childe's demeanor has gotten, the rascal looks horrible both physically and mentally. Despite the consultant and Childe being on friendly terms, you don't really know the man that well. But he doesn't seem like the type of person to lie so you thank him for the information and make your way to the Northland Bank. To be honest, you've been feeling the effects of not seeing Childe as often as you usually do. You know his work can get so hectic that it keeps him cooped up in his office but it's been a while since you've even seen that fluff of ginger hair. He usually doesn't want you near his work considering how it might put you in danger, but if he isn't taking care of himself then what kind of partner would you be if you didn't help?

Even outside the building, you can feel the effects of what Zhongli talked about. All the agents look like they're on their last legs, there's a gloomy atmosphere surrounding the building even though the sun shines brightly across Liyue harbor, and you can vaguely hear an annoyed Harbinger scolding someone. As soon as you set foot into the building Ekaterina nearly tackles you off your feet. Desperately thanking you for coming and looking at you as if you're the Tsaritsa herself.

As soon as Ekaterina says your name, Childe whips his head around at such a speed that you're afraid his head might fling off as his eyes lock onto yours. You know Childe wouldn't hurt you, never you, but he's looking at you like he's about to devour you and you're suddenly very glad you've never been on the receiving end of his anger. He shoves the papers in his hands into the agent's chest he was probably reprimanding and marches over to where you are.

"C-Childe?" "S-Sir?"

Ekaterina mirrors the wary call of his name until he's finally in front of you and without a word, throws his arms around you. You stumble a bit under his weight but you quickly circle your arms around his back and hold on tight so you don't trip over your own feet. You can only imagine what it looks like for Ekaterina to see her stiff boss suddenly deflate in your arms. A pleased groan escapes from him as he basically lifts you off your feet just so he can hug you closer to him. You almost feel like a child's teddy bear with your legs dangling in the air trapped in a crushing hug. You know that your relationship with Childe isn't a secret but you both don't show any displays of affection, you don't even really interact in public in general, so this is pretty open for the two of you. Well, for you at least. You don't even think Childe is registering anything around him except that you're here.

"Are you okay милый?" you whisper into his ear, nuzzling into the side of his head that's nestled into your shoulder. Your snezhnaya is a little rough around the edges but from how he seems to purr you think he enjoys it nonetheless. "Although I'm happy to see you too, don't you think we should move so we aren't blocking the main entrance?"

He sleepily blinks awake and slowly starts to acknowledge that you're both very much standing at the bank's entrance with everyone shamelessly staring. He frankly looks like he doesn't care, people have working legs, they can walk around you both. But he also doesn't want anyone to find another reason to take him away when he's very comfortable.

"If you need me, don't," is the clipped order that rings out through the bank. You know he's heavily censoring what he actually wants to say but from how everyone cowers away, they can probably tell what would happen if they disobey him. They all give him a nod and a salute before he's picking you up, cradles you into your arms, and swiftly walks upstairs. With a kick of his boot, the door slams shut and he sinks into his chair, you seated pretty on his lap.

"Please never leave me, I think I might die," he groans, re-wrapping his arms tight around your waist. You can only sigh fondly as you gently run your fingers through his hair, rubbing small circles into his scalp and he melts into goo. As if you would want to leave.

Kaveh

You know Kaveh is a bit...eccentric to say the least. He always says what's on his mind and most of the time his thoughts are things he should keep to himself. Even you're not totally immune to his blunt honesty despite the fact he tries to watch how he phrases things when directed to you. He doesn't want to accidentally hurt your feelings, regardless if you know he means no harm. It's rather cute that for someone who doesn't care about what others think of him, he's a bit insecure around you. He likes you, really likes you, and he often finds himself plotting out what he's going to say hours before your lunch date with him. But as soon as you greet him with that charming smile and a brief hug, he turns into putty and whatever flowery language he conjured in his mind is swept away. The confident architect that graduated with honors is reduced to a red-faced mess of stumbling words. It doesn't help that you find it adorable enough to press a chaste kiss to his red cheek and he swears that he's going to pass out from a heat stroke.

He's both extremely glad and terribly conflicted that your love language seems to be touch. He loves it when you brush your fingers through his hair but it always lulls him into sleep so he doesn't get any work done. He loves it when you hug him tightly but then he never wants to leave so he doesn't get any work done. He loves it when you cup his cheeks and pull him into a kiss but then he goes in for seconds, then thirds, and so on that he doesn't get any work done. If he went into alchemy rather than architecture he would dedicate his life work to studying why you have the touch of an Archon that compels him so. But he didn't and now that he's drowning in debt, he really needs to concentrate and finish his work before the deadline.

So now he has the painful task of trying to find an extremely polite way of asking you to leave him alone without you taking offense and breaking up with him. He would be devastated if he couldn't see your loving gaze on him again. But the situation is dire because as soon as he sees you, all he wants to do is curl up in bed with you in his arms. Preferably forever but he'll cross that bridge when he gets there. But every time he tries to bring it up it only takes one look from you for him to stutter and wave off his words. He tries to pep talk himself and every single time he claims that this will be the day that he, very politely, pushes you off, it ends with him melting into goo and waking up the next day with all his untouched work judging him from the table.

It gets to the point that he begins to air his grievances to Alhaitham of all people. To be fair, he doesn't expect the scribe to listen to a word he says and if he did, it would only be because Kaveh needed to pay his share of the rent. But he's pleasantly surprised when you pop up with a guilty smile and that Alhaitham explained his circumstances to you. He tries to clear up the situation, he has no idea what Alhaitham said specifically but it must have been put in the worst way possible, but you take his hands and he shuts up immediately. You give him a light giggle that melts his heart and you tell him to call for you once he's completed his work.

It was the worst decision he's ever made. Second to moving in with Alhaitham. Maybe his judgment of you being an angel was a lie and you were secretly the devil from how often his thoughts were plagued by you. He could draw a circle and think of your eyes. He knows that he's smitten in your presence but he didn't expect that to double when he's suddenly alone. His only motivation is that as soon as he's finished, he'll be able to see you again. But his mind and his work bleed together and he ends up drawing your face instead of buildings and pipes.

He ends up locking himself in his studio and slowly deforming into slime with how awful he's taking care of himself. Alhaitham has to pry him from the table only for Kaveh to flop in his arms that the scribe gives up and hauls the corpse over his shoulder and makes his way to your home. Kaveh still needs to pay his share of the rent so he's not allowed to die before then.

When you opened the door you weren't expecting Alhaitham at your doorstep with Kaveh over his shoulder. He doesn't seem to want to be in this situation either because it looks like he's two seconds away from throwing your boyfriend across the room. But he manages to reign everything in front of you and quickly explains Kaveh's situation, dumping said man into your arms, and telling you to fix it. You shoot him an apologetic smile that he waves off, it's not like it's your fault, before turning around and making his way back to his own home.

"Kaveh?" you whisper gently against his ear to not startle him. It only takes him a second to register your voice before he's perking up and beaming at you. He easily shifts positions so you're in his arms instead. Twirling you around and using the momentum to tuck an arm under your knees and smoothly picking you up, somehow supporting your entire weight in one arm while the other closes the door. Sometimes you forget that Kaveh is really strong despite his lean stature. He is a claymore user after all.

"Darling! What are you doing here?" Kaveh questions while he makes himself at home. If only your living space was big enough for him to store all his work otherwise he would have moved in with you by now.

"Alhaitham mentioned that your recent commission was taking up all your time and you weren't taking care of yourself. Are you alright?" you ask, wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself while Kaveh takes his shoes and coat off. In these types of moments, no matter what you do or say he'll refuse to let you out of his arms. If he has to live with one arm then he'll gladly do so just so long as his other hand is wrapped around you.

"Never better," he replies with a smile. He's obviously lying given the dark circles under his pretty red eyes but the soft look he sends you is enough to tell you that right now, he's never been more comfortable. It makes you a bit flustered to have such an intense gaze on you but Kaveh is always forward with his affections and this isn't any different. With you in his arms, there's nowhere for you to run to when he tilts your chin down and brushes his lips against yours.

"Be still for me..." he whispers, the vibrations of his voice tingling against your skin as both of your eyes slowly close. Only for the moment to shatter by loud knocks on your door. You both jerk apart and turn to the disturbance with varying expressions. You're a flustered mess while Kaveh scowls as if the door offended his entire life's work. He finally sets you down on your feet and gives you a quick peck on the cheek. Before marching to the door, flinging it open, and telling the man on the other side to shoo before slamming the door in his face. Unless the world is ending, don't knock.

Ayato

To say Ayato works hard is an understatement. There are several nights when he's glued to his desk rather than resting in bed. Such are the woes of him being forever dedicated to his duties as the Yashiro Commissioner. On days when there are big events and everything needs to be perfect, he's nearly inconsolable that Thoma weighs how much he can get away with if he knocks Ayato out with a frying pan. His pondering doesn't go far because even though Ayato looks like a corpse from the lack of sleep, he'd probably knock Thoma off his feet before the housekeeper could even raise his arms. Ayaka has better luck but she's only able to drag him away for a few minutes before he points in a random direction to divert her attention before disappearing as soon as she turns back. It's just something everyone is aware of and they try their best to support Lord Kamisato. But if it starts to look really bad, like Ayato might drop dead at any second, then you're called in. The last defense and their ace up the sleeve. Not to brag or anything but you have a spotless record and you intend to keep it that way.

It only takes one word from you to have the dignified and cunning Ayato turn into a scared rabbit. His name. None of the wary calls of Lord Kamisato, a dismissal of his titles, and certainly not your affectionate terms of endearment. It always brings the temperature of the room to zero and Ayaka has to double-check that her cyro vision didn't accidentally activate. Unlike Thoma and Ayaka, you're not soft on him and you set your foot down when it comes to his extremes. One of the many reasons he fell in love with you but it's coming back to bite him now. He hates seeing you unhappy, doing anything possible to wipe that frown off your face, but when it's him that's making you so displeased he can't help but look like a scolded puppy.

It doesn't take much for you to know that Ayato has overworked himself to the breaking point again. You understand his duties mean that he's going to be riddled with work but you're his partner first and foremost. You're there to care about Ayato, not the Yashiro Commissioner. And Ayato looks like he's falling apart at the seams. Heavy eye bags, pale complexion, and his body swaying back and forth before he catches himself from falling over. It pains your heart to see him like this and yet still push himself to keep going. So you take one, two, and three steps towards him to delicately take his hand in yours, rubbing soothing circles into his palm before intertwining your fingers together.

Unlike Thoma and Ayaka, he doesn't disappear as soon as you take your eyes off him. Just stands there and stares dopily at you while you issue orders to take over his work. God, you look so attractive when you're in control. It's been a while since he's seen anything but paper and ink but did you always look this beautiful? He's so glad he's going to marry you. Maybe he can force the elders to move the ceremony date up. Everyone in the room politely ignores the fact that Ayato is saying these thoughts out loud and how red your face has gotten.

He doesn't object when you pull him out of the room with you, blindly following you wherever you happen to lead him by the hand. As long as your hand is in his, he'll follow you to the ends of the earth if you'll allow it. It's a bit comical how the dignified Yashiro Commissioner recedes into himself and crumbles away into a love-sick man just by a simple touch. At much as it makes you feel a bit shy, it's nice to know that Ayato won't try and weasel his way out of your grasp and return to his work.

If anything he clings to you like an onikabuto on a tree. You have to waddle your way to the baths with an oversized blue-haired man refusing to let go and draping himself over your back. You know he's making this as hard as possible on purpose, just do you can dote and pamper him a bit longer before he succumbs to slumber and has to return to work. It dampens his mood thinking of the future but it's quickly ushered away by the warm water poured over his head. It's fitting that his vision is hydro because he fits himself into the space you provide as you begin to scrub his hair clean.

There's something meditative about having his hair washed by your hands that no one else can replicate. It's a luxury that he only receives when he works hard enough that his arms hang uselessly at his sides and his body slumps into itself. Soft and malleable, completely willing to bend and mold in whatever shape you wish. But your hands scrub through his hair gently, rubbing all the stress out of his body and never complaining. Right now there's nothing else that matters more than being here with you and you with him.

"I'm going to rinse your hair out. Close your eyes now," you softly say and he follows your instructions. The rush of warm water is soothing to his ears although it sparks something in his memory that momentarily takes him out of this romantic moment. He reaches blindly behind him to take your hand, rubbing circles into your palm to halt your actions.

"It's just occurred to me but aren't you supposed to be on a trip to Watatsumi island?" he opens his eyes to peer up at you, his long eyelashes tipped with water droplets reminding you of just how pretty Ayato is. It's almost a good enough distraction for you to forget why exactly you're here rather than speaking with Kokomi right now. Almost.

"I was but someone had to go and work himself to death again. You need to take better care of yourself Ayato. I don't want to see Thoma running across all of Inazuma just to drag me back because you can't seem to sit still for a few seconds," your frown deepens with each sentence. Your free hand that's not in his grasp is knocking against his forehead, albeit not hard enough to cause any actual pain. He only chuckles before pulling you into the water with him until you're sitting on the edge of the bathtub. His head lay comfortably against your thighs.

"Apologies." He's not sorry at all. "When you're not beside me I have to throw myself into my work or else I may go insane."

"Oh so now all of this is my fault," you huff exasperated but he can hear the undertones of how happy that sentence makes you. "Come on, you'll catch a cold if we stay here any longer."

"Mmm, indulge me," he mumbles into your skin, his eyes closing once again with a content smile on his face. He doesn't need to see to know that you have an equally fond expression.

"Oh, so now my lord wishes to relax?"

"Only because you're here."

Alhaitham

You know that your relationship with Alhaitham is unusual to onlookers. You're both polar opposites and yet somehow stumbled into a rather healthy and committed relationship. To others, Alhaitham is a talented and intelligent man. The perfect bachelor if it wasn't for his "extraordinary sense of individualism" that he doesn't pay attention to people around him. He's notorious for being hard to get along with that not even his handsome face is enough for people to sit around for too long. Meanwhile, there's you. A wandering traveler who takes work whenever anyone needs an extra pair of hands. You're a bit well-known for accepting any job that pays well regardless of how dangerous or weird it might be. But unlike Alhaitham, you're more than happy to make conversation and you're often seen conversing with scholars from every one of the Six Darshans.

To everyone's knowledge, it's you that's the clingy one. You always have a hand around his arm or throw yourself at him shamelessly. Everyone assumes that Alhaitham tolerates it because he never pushes you off but he doesn't reciprocate affection to the degree that you do. If only those nosy scholars could see him now. Your newest job has you traveling to the Chasm to help collect and study the newly opened area. While the Chasm is close to Sumeru, a series of mysterious accidents led the entire mine to be closed. With the Liyue Qizing gradually reopening the area there's a lot of ground to cover. Alhaitham doesn't care much for the details except that this means you'll be away from him for a few years rather than a few weeks. As soon as you told him the expected date you'll return his face instantly soured. It was so cute that you couldn't help but press kisses to the corners of his mouth until they lifted. But one thing led to another and you're now trapped underneath his strong figure for the past couple of hours with no signs of him letting go. Every day you're gone equates to one minute he gets to keep you here.

No matter how much Alhaitham wishes to make you stay, even going so far as to bribe you, you eventually gather your things, press one last kiss to his lips, and leave him in his too-quiet house. He doesn't want to admit it but as soon as he closes the door he already feels lonely. But he'll learn to cope and continue with his life. He's been through more challenging obstacles and made it through. It's only two years, 3 months, 14 minutes, and 58 seconds. Alhaitham sighs and leans against the door. He's not going to make it.

Everyone else is content to whisper behind their hands about how the scribe seems to be more hostile. While Alhaitham doesn't have the most friendly personality, he's still somewhat polite until someone gives him a reason to exit the conversation. But now Alhaitham can barely get two sentences in before insulting someone. He doesn't even mean to do it on purpose, it just slips out. A girl who happens to share your eye color is met with a backhanded compliment that she should eat more fish. A man whose skin color is just a shade lighter than yours is met with an irritated scowl before he could even say anything. It's only now that people start to miss your presence because anything is better than a walking warning sign.

It only takes a few weeks for him to crack. He's not usually this starved of attention but the knowledge that he won't see you for another two years has him itching at his wrists. While on the outside there doesn't seem to be any changes, he's perfectly calm and collected, but his facade breaks when he starts making rash decisions. When he heard that his senior Kaveh needed a place to stay due to his financial situation, he offered to live with him much to everyone and his own surprise. Even Kaveh suspiciously asks why Alhaitham is being so generous. He doesn't dignify it with a proper answer, only that he better get his situation fixed within the next two years or the scribe is kicking him out.

As the second year rolls past, it's Kaveh who brings up Alhaitham's sudden mood change. He seems...excited. Kaveh chalks it up to Alhaitham being happy that Kaveh is finally moving out but that'd be kind of low even for someone like Alhaitham. As someone who cares about the arts and romance, there's a certain care in how Alhaitham cleans the house. Every systematic movement is laced with a longing gaze. His wrists are rubbed raw that Kaveh has to physically step in or he might rub so hard he reaches the bone. But above all the dangerous aura around Alhaitham is replaced with something Kaveh can only describe as restless patience.

"Honey, I'm home!" your happy voice is accompanied by the loud slam of the door crashing against the wall. Kaveh is startled by a random stranger entering their house but mostly at the term of endearment. Alhaitham only lowers his book at your voice before going back to reading. A bit rude in Kaveh's opinion but he can see the small smile that Alhaitham tries to hide behind the pages of his book. It's not like you aren't a bit devious yourself. So you retaliate by plucking the book out of his hands, taking a quick glance at his page number before placing it on the desk.

"Welcome back. I assume your job went well?" Alhaitham sighs as you kick his legs apart, plop yourself down into his lap, and rest your head against his chest. If you weren't so enthralled by the masterpiece that was Alhaitham's physique, you would have laughed at how the blond-haired man seemed to stare owlishly at the scene. His eyes almost fall out of their heads when Alhaitham doesn't push you off, doesn't throw you over his shoulder, or even make the slightest hint of being irritated or embarrassed. He just places his hands around your waist, rests his chin on your head, and sends an icy glare to which the blond-haired man scoffs before excusing himself. It's not anything different from what he usually does to onlookers although this is you and you can tell just how weary he is. How deeply he relaxes in your hold as the tension melts from his shoulders. How his eyes search over your body for any injuries that you might have gotten. It does look like you got a bit roughed up during your stay at the Chasm. Your hair is cut shorter than he remembers, you've put on some muscle, and there are a few nicks and cuts running along parts of your skin that are visible. But none of that matters because you're here. You're finally here.

"Aww, Haitham did you miss me?" you tease only to quickly eat your words when he manuever's you sideways so he can pin your back against the couch. You're hit with a sense of deja vu back to two years ago when you were about to leave for this trip.

"The next time you take a commission that lasts longer than two weeks, I'm coming with you or you're not going at all," he grumbles as he tucks himself into the crook of your neck with no signs of leaving. You laugh now but he's dead serious.

Dottore

You aren't sure when it started but at some point, you've been labeled as "Dottore's Favourite". He always seems to be the slightest bit nicer if you happen to be there, his voice a smidge less aggressive, and a lot more touchy. He's a Doctor first so he doesn't want to be contaminated by whatever bacteria people have gathered. But with you, he always seems to have a hand on you. Either harshly pinching your cheeks like a child with a crazed grin whenever you mumble something he deems stupid or pulling your arm of out its socket as he yanks you through the hallways of his lab. You act almost as his shadow, permanently glued to his feet and forced to follow wherever he goes.

You wouldn't consider yourself exceptional at your job but you did know how to listen. Perhaps it was your blatant disregard for your lack of safety since your head was always in the clouds that let you do your job with a steady hand. You don't blame your college's, it's hard to work under so much stress. If you had to do quantum physics and whatever the hell smart people do with someone who could, and would, kill you on the spot if you couldn't tell him what 3567 x 438 was on the spot, you think you could have exploded and crumbled on the spot. But you were just the ditzy receptionist who twirled a pencil on her nose more than on a paper. The only thing you were required to do was make sure Dottore was never bothered and let him know if anyone important needed his attention.

You've seen the Regrator the most compared to the rest of the Harbingers. You don't know what a banker needs from a doctor but you're not about to ask. It's not your business and you aren't paid enough to care about what your boss does. Besides, for such a handsome face his presence creeps you out which is saying something considering there's a maniacal doctor that treats human lives like numbers on a stats page. But since you are his "receptionist" you have to make conversation with him. Most of your interaction extends to him asking if the Doctor is in and you politely saying that he's out. You both pointedly ignore the loud crashes and angry yelling from one of his segments behind the closed steel door.

Once again, you don't consider yourself exceptional at your job. You're just a lousy receptionist at a place that doesn't require it and who spends all their time spinning in the office chair than doing actual work. You're just as replaceable as any grunt in this hell hole. So when Tartaglia waltzes through the doors, blinking at you with his dead fish eyes, before nodding to himself and hauling you out of your chair you can only hope that Dottore manages to remember that he has a meeting with Pantalone at noon.

You're hardly gone for an hour. Tartaglia was just bored, bored enough to come to Dottore of all people, that he happened to spot you who looked equally as bored. He just roughed you up a little before he deemed you completely useless and a horrible fighter before sending you back on your way. Seriously, if he wanted a fight he should have just picked one of the skirmishers instead of a damn receptionist. Although you may have to reconsider your position because as soon as you walk back into the lab, a girl is throwing herself at you and demanding where you've been.

You don't get the chance to answer before she's hurriedly running down twisting hallways, down the stairs, and punching in codes so complicated it looked like she was trying to make music out of them. Whatever questions you have are ignored in favor of getting you somewhere as fast as possible. It begins to make sense when you're finally shoved into a room, the girl who dragged you all this way throwing herself onto her knees and begging for forgiveness for letting you wander off.

The lab is an absolute disaster. This isn't the organized chaos you're acquainted with but the aftermath of a manic episode you're familiar with. Glass shards dripping with fluorescent liquid, research notes torn apart that flutter around the room as faux snow, and one mad doctor in the middle.

"Where have you been?"

For someone who destroyed years worth of progress, he sounds oddly calm and collected. His deep voice is firm while he fiddles with a test tube of blue liquid, watching it slosh around before placing it onto a broken table. He barely pays any mind to the girl currently on her hands and knees, forehead pressed to the ground while she glares at you to say something.

"Out," is your reply. A casual shrug of your shoulders even though the Dottore's back is to you. He's not wearing his usual white coat. That's too bad, you think it looks kinda cool. Really goes with his bird aesthetic.

"Out...out you say. Out. Out. Out," he mumbles softly, each time he say's the word "out", he taps the test tube harder onto the table. The lull in conversation only makes the pressure of the room drop lower before the tension snaps and he hurls the test tube at the girl still on her knees. It's only thanks to your reflexes that you manage to grab the collar of her uniform and throw her back just as the test tube collides with the floor, the liquid melting away the concrete where her head was. You can only give her a nudge and a look towards the door for her to scramble to her feet and flee as far away as she can. The slam of the door behind her acting as the nail in the coffin as Dottore's body seems to slump in on itself.

"Where have you been?" he asks again, running a hand through his messy hair. He sounds and looks far more tired, his fingers twitching to reach out and hold you but his pride stopping him. So you push yourself and step forward into his space, reaching your hands out to cup his face and rubbing soothing circles into his porcelain skin. He doesn't lean into your touch but he doesn't push you away either.

"Getting tossed around by Tartaglia. He came by saying he was bored and I just so happened to be there," you say absentmindedly, twirling the long lock of blue hair that hangs off the sides of his mask. He responds by snatching your wrist, squeezing hard enough until your bones creak. "Were you worried? Did you think I ran away?"

He doesn't dignify your question with a response. Simply shrugging your hands off his face before he reaches up to pinch your cheeks, a familiar cackle vibrating from his chest.

"As if you would have anywhere to go."

———

[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@genshins1mpact @creatorofstars @xoneaboveallx @timmyitsmeeee @raingoesboomboom @duhsies @thegayrubberducky @openingssequence @onowie

[loveandmurders]

Imagine Michael Myers ruined your life. He killed your boyfriend and your friends because you were at the wrong place at the wrong time. You have been able to run away just in time, but he left scars on your body.

You couldn't stop watching them and you couldn't stop thinking about him. You used to be such a normal and mentally stable person, but then... You grew obsessed with revenge. You were a wounded animal desiring to wound in return.

So you started to plan out how you were going to kill the big and frightening Shape.

Imagine you completely change your basement for it to become the most perfect prison. You could easily tie someone there, and you could even more easily kill them without anyone to hear anything about it.

Transforming your basement was the easy part, then you needed to get Michael Myers out of the asylum and to trap him there. But you were smart, ressourceful and ready to murder him and to be covered in his blood.

You did get him out of the asylum by briding a few guards and nurses. You patiently waited for him to go back to his house, where you were waiting for him. Gosh, waiting was driving you even crazier.

Imagine taking Michael Myers by surprise; you shot him and hit him on the head. No matter how strong he was, he collapsed. You painfully pulled him to your car and brought him to your home. Whenever people heard Michael was out of his cell, they were hiding so it was easy for you to go unnoticed.

You were quick to bring him to your basement, not caring about the way his head was hitting one step after the other, or the way his shooting wound was staining his clothes. You were quick to tie him down with chains even an elephant couldn't tear apart.

And then you waited again. You wanted for the man to see your face before hurting him and killing him. You needed him to know who was hitting him.

Imagine Michael waking up in your basement, half confused of what was going on. He quickly understood he wasn't back at the asylum. He had no idea who you were, not that he cared. He simply wanted to kill you, to dismantle you and to forget about you. He didn't show his surprise when he couldn't break free from his chains.

"I'm gonna kill you so slowly" you darkly promised him and it made him completely freeze. He recognised your cold anger. You started to interest him.

You didn't try to guess what he was thinking; no one could understand him anyways. You just wanted him to suffer. You tried to make him scream, but you could slice his skin, burn him, break his fingers... and yet he wouldn't show anything.

Imagine getting so angry, you had to leave the room. You didnt want to kill without him to experience true pain and you wanted proof he was in pain.

It was then he hit you. Physically hurting him was useless. You needed to play with something so deep inside of him, that it would break him. You needed him to fall in love with you and then to put him back into the asylum, so far away from you, driving him insane.

You read about Stockholm Syndrome a lot. You fed Michael, you took care of his wounds, and then you would let him rot for a few days alone downstaires. You were alterning between abuse and some sort of "tenderness".

You were patient and it started to pay off. Whenever you were coming downstairs, Michael was instantly trying to get free of his chains, but not to escape, just to touch you. He couldn't think, all he knew was that he needed you more than oxygen. When you were around, he was behaving like a dangerous puppy trying to please you. When you were punishing him and leaving him alone in the dark, you were only feeding his obsession of you.

Imagine one night, you got a little bit tired and hence not being as careful as you should have been around a monster like Michael. You have come too close to him and you haven't moved quick enough. He caught your wrist and easily made you fall on his lap. You found yourself straddling him. You tried to move from him but his big hands were around your waist, keeping you close.

He had never wanted to kiss or to pleasure someone before, but he would be on his knees in between your legs if only you had wanted it. Him. He took in your scent and nuzzled in your neck as his hands softly slipped under your top so he could feel how soft and warm your skin were.

"Michael" you warned him and he froze "Let me go, or I'll be very mad"

Imagine the most dangerous of killers, twice your size and three time your strenght, letting you go. You saw the shadow of a pout on his face. He was so disappointed. Everything felt so cold without you.

You quickly went upstairs, not caring about the wounded grunts echoing in the basement as Michael was desesperate to watch you go. It was then you understood he was ready. He was ready to be put back in the asylum, far far away from you.

You went to work and when the night came, you joined Michael with some meal. You watched him eat and drink his water. You praised him before settling on his lap on your own accord, but you forbidad him from touching you. And even if he was struggling he obeyed as you moved closer. You didn't really know why but you kissed him, and he instantly - and yet a little bit clumsily - replied to it.

"You're gonna be a good boy to me and you're gonna have a little walk near by your house, okay?" you told him. Michael didn't understand why you would ask him to go "But then you come back. I want to see if I can trust you without those chains" you explained to him and he nodded.

Imagine playing with fire and removing his chains. He didn't care about the bruises littering his wrists and ankles. He only wanted to touch you. He had been love and touch starved his whole existence, and if his lack of empathy helped him to pretend it was alright, now he was in need of you. You allowed him to roam your body and to squeeze your flesh with want.

Soon enough you asked him to go and he reluctantly obeyed. He left your house with the only desire to come back to you. But before, he knew he had to obey to you like he used to obey his mother. He went near his former home - because his home was now you. You called the police on him.

He fought like a lion, but there were too many cops and doctors, even for him. He got shot with sedative. Next time he opened his eyes, he was back to his cell in the asylum. And he quickly lost it. Doctors had to intervene, to sedate him again and to tie him up to his bed as he was destroying everything around.

Dr. Loomis had no idea why the usually quiet man, was getting so out of himself. Nothing could calm down Michael, who was absolutely going even more insane the more time he was being away from you. He couldn't stand a world without your warmth and presence. You were a drug, the only thing he ever desired, the only thing that made him feel something.

Imagine missing the flash news about Michael Myers escaping the asylum, as you were asleep on your couch.

Imagine waking up to your front door being torn apart. You ran to your kitchen, grabbed a sharp knife and was ready to dialled 911 when you saw Michael coming into view.

He took a few more steps before kneeling down in front of you, showing you he was no threat to you, and more importantly that he was all yours.

"Oh. You came back home" you whispered to yourself as he wrapped his arms around your mid section.

He was indeed back home.

[theambitiouswoman]

I have been celibate for 3+ years & I wanted to share how this has helped shaped who I am.

Disclaimer: This is not me telling you what to do with your life and your bodies. It comes with zero judgement. I am of the belief that there is a season for everything, and we evolve into many different people in our life. I would be remiss if I didn't say that I definitely think it's a good idea to practice it. I do believe that psychologically, spiritually & emotionally having casual sex has a lot of negative implications for both men and women. However your beliefs around intimacy are purely up to you. Sex isn't bad, that's not what I am saying, but when you are having sex with someone you are absorbing their energy, and the energy of their past lovers too, so having sex with the wrong person can really ruin you.

Honestly the idea of anyone touching me if they do not meet my needs emotionally, mentally, physically etc absolutely disgusts me. I have never been of the type of let anyone "have me" but even more so now. Remember that when you start treating yourself differently, your perspectives and the things you are attracted to also start to change.

Maybe some girls don't understand this so I am going to say it. You do not have to sleep with a man for him to like you, love you, treat you well, or buy you things. If you haven't experienced this, you may not agree. But this is my reality and the reality of so many others, so yes it is actually totally possible.

I will say that the first year can be difficult but after that it gets much easier cause your mindset changes. I recommend taking that first year to really dive in and analyze your relationships, work on your wounds etc. Feeling lonely is something I see come up a lot, and while human beings are not designed to be alone, you should not feel lonely and that is probably a good starting point to work on with yourself if that is the case.

Anyway, these are some of the changes I have experienced:

1. Greater mental clarity and can focus more on personal goals, career & self development.

2. Reduced emotional turbulence. Creating better emotional balance and inner peace.

3. Realizing self love and self worth come from you, rather than seeking external validation. It reduces stress, increases self awareness & provides identity outside of others.

4. Higher standards, better boundaries. Intimacy is a choice, not a necessity. Being unable to control your lust is a weakness. Understand that falling in love purely through sex is lust, wounds and attachment / abandonment issues, need for validation, insecurity etc.

5. Insane increase to intuition.

6. Gives you control over your body and life. It allows you to be more selective about who you let into their personal space.

7. Increased creativity & passion to channel into art, projects, or other personal endeavors.

8. For those recovering from past trauma or heartbreak, celibacy can be a time for healing and self reflection. It offers the space to process emotions, heal old wounds and rediscover yourself.

9. No energetic enmeshments with toxic souls, which btw you are absorbing all of it. Grosses me out any time I think about it.

10. Even prettier than before (but i'm sure not entertaining toxic men and drama contributes to that as well)

11. People are even more drawn to be because of my strong sexual energy & pure aura.

[redsaurrce]

EYE FOR AN EYE

SUMMARY : He loves you to the point he is willing to give up his most precious thing- himself.. and an eye.

PAIRING : Student Jungkook x Fem!Teacher reader

WORD COUNT : 1,814

WARNINGS : YANDERE THEMES, OBSESSION, Gore, mentions of blood, mental illnesses, drugs, kidnapping, manipulation, words of profanity, suggestive, he is down BAD, don't fall for his tricks (you won't right?)

-

"Perfect As!"

"Model student"

"Topper of the school"

"Captain of the soccer team"

"Student council member"

And so on...

Jungkook was it all- for you. Everywhere your eyes laid, he was the perfect student anyone would dream to have in their class.

He was known for being the best and but not for being the bully because he wouldn't let them expose him, not when he almost has fooled you into believing that he was the best boy.. for you.

Well there's no fooling to it perhaps, he indeed is the best boy to ever exist in your life. Any man who'd dare to touch you is dead by the break of dawn, isn't he such a gentleman for protecting you?

Or told his parents (the owners of the school) about you so that you get extra benefits from the school? Isn't that so cool? Who would it do for you? It's none other than him.

Then why did you reject him?

"I am the best in everything, the girls are willing to sell themselves just to have a private talk with me, the teachers try their best to make a good impression on me to gain something, literally everyone wants to be friends with me or wants me and if you're worried of me being younger than you by 5 years ... That's no big deal at all-"

"Stop it Jungkook!" You were angry, "None of this justifies why you've kidnapped me!??And first and foremost, you're such a narcissist - so what if the girls want you? I'm not interested in you the slightest bit, I only ever saw you as a student, nothing more than that. Make a good impression? Why should I?"

"Oh so you're not worried about getting kicked out of school?" He raised his eyebrows.

You scoffed, "I've got more important things to worry about, I don't care about getting kicked out, I already have a list of schools who have offered me better salary than here."

"Then why didn't you leave yet??" He asked you, he was puzzled.

"Why should I tell you? Oh and- what's the meaning of this? First you drug me and bring me to a place I don't know where- how dare you lay a finger on me??!" You clenched your jaw.

"Oh dear oh dear, I care about every single thing related to you, morning, night, anytime of the day I think about you. When I see you- i- I feel so happy. My parents are happy about us Y/N! You are the perfect daughter in law for them, you are smart, brave, kind and bold- i love that personality of yours- i- I love you." He was not joking, you saw him physically shaking from expressing how much he loved you.

He was going insane.

You chuckled, "But I don't like you. You call yourself perfect but in my eyes I've never seen someone as flawed as you."

He started striding towards you and grabbed your chin roughly, "Yeah? I guess I couldn't really hide myself from you then. Then fix me, fix me the way you want me to." His grip on your chin loosens and he leans down, his face coming in the level of yours, "Shape me into the man you want me to be Y/N. I'll do everything you say-"

"Then leave me alone-"

"Shushh!" He placed his index finger on your lips, "Everything except anything that requires you to leave me."

Your eyes were filled with rage, "I will kill you."

"Now, now calm down, you will have plenty of ways to kill me Y/N, afterall getting your hands on my neck is a dream for me." He smirks and leans down to kiss you.

How dare he??!

Just when his lips were about to touch yours, you bumped into him with full power. Little did you know that you had accidentally targeted his left eye.

"BLOOD???" Your eyes went wide.

"AHHH!! YOU- I- I JUST- AAAHHHH" jungkook started screaming in pain.

Did you just make him blind??

"I-- I'm sorry." Tears started to well up in your eyes when you got a flashback of you accidentally throwing a sharp object in your brother's eye making his eye lose eyesight.

It was the left eye.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to do that- if- if you didn't come close to me this wouldn't have happened." You started crying.

"Ambulance - we need to call for an ambulance." You quickly grabbed his phone from his pocket and dialed the emergency number.

-

"Are you miss Choi Y/N?" You looked up at the source of the voice.

"We are from the police and we have received a police report against you." You looked at the pair and stood up from the chair you were sitting on outside the operation theatre.

"What kind of report?" You frowned.

One of them sighed and said, "For attacking one your students - Jeon Jungkook."

"What??"

"Did you attack him or not?" He asked firmly.

You shook your head, "It was self defence."

"Self defence you say?" He raised his right eyebrow, "I don't see any signs of violence on you?"

Your eyelids flickered, "I- I was drugged and taken to his place then he threatened to get intimate with me so I bumped my head in his face in self defence!"

"You were drugged?" He clicked his tongue and continued, "How about we run a drug test to confirm your statement?"

You nodded, "yes please."

...

After half a day of spending in anxiousness the police came back. "Miss Choi... rather than your blood, we found a drug in the victim's blood. How would you explain that?"

You were confused beyond anything, "H-how is that possible??"

"And we found those drugs in your possession."

"Bullshit!" You protested, unable to decipher wtf was going on.

Just when the police were about to take you away, someone screamed.

"Halt! I am Jungkook's mother and Y/N's mother-in-law. How dare you take her away? They only had a quarrel normal couples would have, my son got hurt in the process by mistake. About the drug, my son has some psychic problems and the doctor has recommended it. If my daughter-in-law wouldn't carry it for her husband then who will?? Do you want me to show you the prescriptions or what?"

What in the world was going on?? What is that lady saying? Mother-in-law? What? All of this was too much for you to take in so you fainted out of sheer stress.

---

You slowly open your eyes and let the light wake you up. You whimpered as you tried to get up only to find Jungkook sitting beside your bed on a tool with his head rested on the bed. He was sleeping peacefully with bandages on his left eye- suddenly everything that happened that day started to hit you.

"oh you're awake- thank god!" He woke up at the creaking sound with his eyes going wide.

You looked at him, "what- what about your eye?"

"oh right, I've already consulted with a doctor in the States, he said that my eyes will get better with an operation that'll cost millions of dollars but.... I'll be fine. " he smiled.

Did he just say millions of dollars???

"Ah and don't worry about my mother's gibberish, she did so to protect you. Right! Talking about my mother- your mother and brother came to see you yesterday.. you were out for three days you know?" He said with a worried face.

"They came?" You asked with wide eyes. You thought they'd hate you for what you did to your brother but it seems like you can still redeem yourself.. right? But how?

"I also noticed your brother had a left eye injury?"

"Oh uhm yeah he has." You gulped feeling extremely ashamed and guilty of yourself.

You felt like a curse to anyone who came close to you. You felt awful.

"You see, the offer is still there.. I can help you with your brother's eye operation too." He said with doe eye.

Your eyes sparkled up, "You will?? Then- then I promise I'll repay you with my hardwork-"

He laughed, "Y/N we're talking about millions of dollars here, even if you work your ass off for seven more lives, you cannot pay me back.. especially with a job like that.

You hated how he was right but even if there was slightest bit of a way-

"Marry me. And as a husband it'll be my duty to pay for my wife's brother." He placed forth his end of negotiation.

You gulped, "Why do you even like me? Why did your mother go to such lengths to save me? What have I even done for you to forgive me for hurting you like this but still want to marry me?"

"You see right through me Y/N. Remember how you were the only teacher who stood up for the corruption going inside the school, my father liked you since then.

Then when i was falling behind in academics- you gave me your attention when no other teacher did because they enjoyed seeing me crumble, they think I have a superiority complex so they wanted to see me go down."

"i did that as a teacher." You spoke.

"I dont care. I love you, Y/N. I like your boldness, your kindness, your smartness, everything of yours- I love it." I'm obsessed with it.

You sighed, is this how your life was going to be? You let out a deep breath, "Fine. Let's get married. You said you'll help with my brother's operation right?"

He instantly smiled so wide he hugged you at once, "Thankyou, thankyou so much Y/N, thankyou so much." He spoke through your hair and was shaking through the hug, you held him back to calm him down and he held on to you tighter.

You were kind, smart and bold but sometimes you can be dumb too.

Jungkook smirked.

He staged all of this to get you, how naïve were you. You couldn't tell how it was suspicious for your head to hit his eye to create that extreme damage.

He had injured his eye himself while moving forward with force when he saw your head was about to collide.

He predicted your every next move, as much as you could see through him, he wanted to see through you.

He used your trauma with your brother to get you, you can be dumb sometimes too.. right?

And he was ready to sacrifice everything for you, starting with his eye.

--

Ahhh welcome back after a long time babies 😩💗💗

[wade-fucking-wilson]

Just finished Deadpool and Wolverine WW3

So much to go over, so I thought I might try to convince you all to read it while I’m rabidly fixating.

For a Deadpool and Wolverine comic, I think this one is arguably the most intense, riveting, brutal, heartbreaking, and gay of them all.

SPOILER WARNING!!! I can't promise minimal spoilers since I'm going in-depth, so be warned that this is spoiler territory.

During this comic, Logan is almost drawn towards Wade. For a man who supposedly hates Wade's guts, he's more than willing to travel to Russia when Wade summons him. Once there, he finds Wade has been turned into a bloodthirsty cyborg to entertain the rich. As someone who's been experimented on himself, he naturally feels sympathy for what Wade has become and sticks around to help him.

After being dropped in the Russian wilderness together, Wade finally begins to snap out of his brainwashed state. He asks why Logan came to save him, to which Logan replies that he asked him to come. Wade apologizes for bringing him all this way and says that Wade was frightened when he summoned Logan. The question is, why Logan? Why did he call Logan when he was scared, and why would Logan come if he supposedly hated Wade?

Anyways, as the two trek through the Russian wilderness, Wade begins to physically/mentally weaken. So, of course, Logan does what any normal person would do; he cuts out a chunk of his leg for Wade to eat!! Cannibalism as a metaphor for love, anyone? He cares enough about Wade to feed himself to Wade, how fucking nuts is that?? Guys, friends don't do that for one another.

Later on, during an intense fight with some enemies (and a huge monster), Wade "dies." Logan genuinely mourns Wade. Once again, this is coming from the guy who supposedly hated Wade's guts at the beginning of the comic. I would say he mourns because his travel partner just died, but we all know it's more than that.

As he mourns (and fights for his life), Logan becomes aware that Wade has literally begun to regenerate on/in him and is connected to his back (Best I just show you the frame for this one)

(Kinda nasty; I'm sorry)

Weird Blob Wade explains that their blood mingling resulted in Wade regenerating while connected to Logan's body (possibly leeching off Logan’s energy??)

There's a few pages where they share a brain and body, which is INSANE. Like, I don't know if it can get much gayer than that. Truly. They have shared their bodies with one another (in a non-sexual way this time around), which I feel is more intimate than sex would have been in this situation.

The comic ends with Wade fully regenerating and the two going on a killing spree (classic), but not before Wade says this:

("When you say "@*** off" it sounds like "I Love You")

In summary:

Cannibalism is a metaphor for love

These two literally sharing their bodies with one another

The unrefuted fact that Wade and Logan are DRAWN TO EACH OTHER.

This comic is batshit insane, and I highly recommend it.

[the-anime-enthusiast]

pls shoto / hawks type of women

MHA CHARACTERS TYPE IN WOMEN

#2 Keigo Takami - Hawks

KEIGO TAKAMI - PHYSICAL

He likes his women a lil shorter 😌🫶 Like 5'2 - 5-6 buuutt will GLADLY take on a model height baddie ANY DAY OF THE WEEK "what's the point of wings if I can't use them to fly up and kiss you??" 🤧

AN ABSOLUTE ASS MAN he loves the legs, the butt, all of it and in between but besides be a total tweaker for a nice ass he has a special place in his heart for boobs 🫶 specifically b-c cups though 🌚 he doesn't know why but he likes a smaller size 😉

Siren eyes are his ULTIMATE WEAKNESS something about someone who looks so intense and like they're about to eat him alive bc hes so fucking annoying GETS BRO GOING 🤩 He can tease you all day any day but if you act like he's just another guy to you HE WILL CHASE YOU TO THE ENDS OF THE DAMN EARTH ‼️‼️

Sucker for dimples 😌 Loves to see some chubby cheeks with the cutest dimples 🫡 AND SMILE LINES OMFGGG 😍😍😍🙏🙏🙏 he doesn't even know what it is about them but it makes his heart SKIP A BEAT

He LUVS a sun kissed skin look 🌞 like a slightly tanned face with some redness left over from a sunburn, freckles starting to pop up everywhere HE LOVES IT 💥💥💥

Short and stout or tall and skinny he loves it all 🫡🫡🫡 Bro is NOT PICKY 😭 As long as ur face cute hell love you until hell freezes OVVVERRR BRO 🌚🌚🌚

KEIGO TAKAMI - MENTAL

Literally just someone he can vibe with 🙂‍↕️ If you match energy he will worship you like THE AIR HE BREATHES 😍 Just someone laid back and chill but also can have a fub time and a positive outlook on the future "pessimists are my worst enemy" was once scratched from an interview 🌚

While he loves an optimist and like minded folk realism is the most important thing he could ask for -- Someone who understands his job and the things he has to do 💯 (this stems a lot from the twice incident which i will touch on at the end of this)

Can we all admit he's fs got mommy issues ✋ he would die for a lady who will hold him in her arms at the end of the day and just let him exist in the peace and quiet of his home with her 🙂‍↔️

SMART WOMEN 😍 he loves someone smart, youre working to get ur PhD? SMASH‼️ A teacher ?? SMASH‼️ Literally any job or skill that requires emotional strength and a BIG BRAIN and he's weak in the knees 🤭

KEIGO TAKAMI - RANDOM

Blissfully unaware people who will lounge in bed all day reading a magazine then running up to him as he gets home from work peppering him will kisses is like a very specific want of his - 😭 bro just wants someone to love him fr ✊😔

Has a weird thing for teachers -💀 Anytime a girl is like "Oh yeah I never told you? I'm a Pre-K teacher!' his eye twitches and he feels like he's going insane 😶‍🌫️ (in the best way possible)

You're the only person he's ever told this or would let do this to him - but give him back scratches at the base of his wings AND HE EVAPORATES 🫠🫠

NERDS 💯💯💯 A secret fangirl???? He's never living it down. EVER. He'll bring you home limited edition, u released, ect ect merch for, not only him, but ALL THE TOP HEROES bc he gets first dibs from being so high in the charts 😌

Going of off nerds again, IF YOU CORRECT HIM ON SOMETHING (literally anything...it's concerning) HE GETS SOOO HOT AND BOTHERED he's never been able to figure out why but being out in his place by someone so intellectually advance does something to him 🧍‍♀️

THATS THE POST!! (but here's some end credits and comments rq 😉)

About the twice situation, although he recognizes what he did was wrong, he doesn't regret it, because it truly changed the tide and outcome of the war, and he needs someone who sees that and defends him whole heartedly ✋

ANYWAYS I HAD SO MUCH FUN DOING THIS REQUEST ‼️ I've never been a huge fan of hawks so it was SO much fun coming up with stuff and diving more into his character ‼️‼️ I hope y'all enjoy 😉

also...idk if y'all can tell... but I NEED HIM AND FUYUMI TO BECOME A THING PLEASE HORIKOSHI ID GIVE YOU MY LIFE (the head cannons have nothing to do with that shit it's all separate it just happens to line up VERY well) 😍

BYYEEEE THANKYOU ‼️

[sugarlywhispers]

@hitoshisbf I KNOOOW, I'M ASHAMED OF MYSELF. SHINSOU DESERVES ALL THE BLOWJOBS I MEAN THE LOVE♡

Lool, here it is~ c;

When you decided to call your man as you walked home from work, knowing he was at the gym at that hour, you expected anything. Music, loud noises, even people talking loudly.

However, you weren't expecting... that.

A grunted moan, followed by, "Hey, gorgeous... ugh... how's your day? Mmh..."

You stopped walking, mind trying to comprehend what you just heard.

"Umm, good?" You knew your tone sounded more like a question than an affirmation, and so did him.

Shinsou Hitoshi laughed in a breath, followed by another pant and a mmh that now made you press your thighs together. "Are you asking me, baby? Fuck..." and the sound of dropping a big weight was heard.

The sudden thought of him doing those noises while laying over you, your legs around his slim waist and fingers grabbing his strong biceps, his dick so deep buried into you that the only coherent thought would be "more".

And now you were definitely clenching, in need of him.

You slapped yourself mentally to gather your thoughts back together. Looking around to see if anybody noticed your sudden hornyness for this man that was driving you crazy.

A hand slides throughout your locks as you resume your walking, "Shit... Sorry I called, I just wanted to ask if you want some fuck, shit, no, I mean, if you want tonight some dinner, EAT dinner at my place tonight?"

The grumbled of his breathed laugh was felt in your spine, traveling tour whole body even though he wasn't physically behind you, "You said tonight, twice." Another pant.

You gulped.

Jesus, this man was...

"Dinner and fuck, sounds like a plan to me, bub."

You almost tripped. "I didn't..."

"Oh, yes, you did... And I'm definitely gonna have my way with you," his voice sounded breathy, but his flirty tone was there. Torturing you like he always did.

Fuck. You want him so badly it's making you go insane.

You bit your lower lip looking around you to see if there's enough people paying attention or close enough to hear what you're about to say.

"If you can make those sounds again... you can have desert first."

You could picture his side smirk, breathy pants as he completely stops what he's doing, and said, "Deal."

[strangersteddierthings]

February 2

rating: T cw: period-typical slurs, mild violence prompt: Love is protection

The punch doesn't land. Michael stands frozen before him, arm raised to swing as they both turn towards the shout on instinct.

Eddie watches in slow motion as Steve Harrington sprints down the alley towards them as if summoned from Eddie's fantasies directly, determination on his face. The world returns to its regular speed as Steve reaches them.

Steve takes hold of Michael's arm at the same time Eddie feels himself stagger back several feet from where the new altercation is happening. It's not a conscious decision to put some space between himself and Michael, he's too busy watching Steve use his momentum to make Michael spin with him, or risk getting his arm broken, to think too much about what his body is doing.

Steve lets go of Michael suddenly, which sends him slamming into the wall of the bar Eddie and he had exited just minutes before.

"Come on!" Steve shouts, suddenly in front of Eddie and grabbing him by the wrist, dragging him down the alley until Eddie gets his feet under him and then they're both running. Steve takes a right, and even though Eddie's van is to the left, he follows. He can come back for the van and might actually prefer to. He doesn't want Michael to see what he drives.

They run a few blocks down before ducking into a different alleyway. It's not necessary, this much distance and the hiding. Michael wouldn't give chase. Eddie knew from experience that they rarely do, the men that don't like hearing no.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks, immediately assessing Eddie for damage. His shoulder kind of smarts from when Michael shoved him against the wall, there's a dull ache from his scalp where his hair had been yanked at, and he thinks if he takes off his jacket there will be a mark on his upper arm where Michael grabbed him when Eddie changed his mind and tried to leave, but physically that's it. Mentally, though?

Mentally, Steve just rescued him from a man that could be his twin, so that's got to be telling. Well, twin is a bit of a stretch. There were no moles dotting Michael like constellations, no signature hair swoop (though hair length was almost a perfect match), and his butt was far too flat but there's no way to deny he was a stand in for who Eddie actually wanted. Michael was even a jock, given what little Eddie and he had spoken about before heading outside to smoke, or so Eddie had thought.

So, all in all, is Eddie okay? No!

"Yeah. Yeah, fine," Eddie says.

"That guy threw you into the wall."

The adrenaline is fading, and shame replaces it. Why is Steve here? How much of what happened did he witness? "And I'm fine. Thanks for the assist, but what are you even doing here?"

Steve frowns at him. "I was- I just, just was checking in on you. You weren't answering the phone and Dustin was-"

"But how are you here!? How long have you been here?" Eddie interrupts, "how did you know where to find me?"

Steve takes a step back, puts a little distance between them. "I just drove around until I saw your van."

Eddie blinks at him. "You drove around Indy, searching for my van. How- what?"

"Yeah! And lucky I did," Steve says, like the idea of searching all of Indianapolis for one van isn't insane. "That guy was gonna kick your ass if I hadn't shown up!"

"He'd of gotten a few good punches in before I got away," Eddie waves off Steve's concern. "Not my first rodeo, Stevie."

"This happens often? Why do you keep coming back!?"

"Why does the faggot keep going to gay bars? Gee, I don't think we'll ever know, Steve," Eddie sneers, defensive for no reason. He hates that he does thing. That he lashes out at people just concerned for his safety. Steve just threw a guy into a wall for daring to try and punch him, why can't he just be grateful?

Steve scowls, "why're you being a dick to me? What the fuck did I do?"

Eddie lets out a sigh, "Nothing you don't usually do."

Steve throws up his hands and marches in a circle, apparently too frustrated for words and Eddie hates how smitten he is. It's adorable. Steve's anger is cute, and that's the problem. That's why he was at that bar, a gay bar, in the first place. To wallow in his unrequited love and maybe get off with a stranger he could pretend was Steve if he squinted and it was dark.

And now the man he is hopelessly in love with has come and saved him, once again; this time from a man who wanted something Eddie wasn't going to give in an alleyway at 3:30 in the afternoon, who didn't take "no" well, and everything had escalated from there.

"What do you want me to say, Steve? Thank you for protecting me? Thank you for always managing to show up exactly when I need you? If so, thank you!"

"Why does it bother you that I care if you're safe or not!"

"Because it's you!" Eddie screams.

Steve's eyes widen and his lips part in shock, a look that morphs into hurt. "I... see. I- let me walk you back to your van and I'll get outta your hair."

Eddie hates that he's hurt Steve, because he's an asshole that lashes out. He knows that whatever conclusion Steve's come to in his mind is wrong. He knows that Steve is blaming himself, trying to find out where he went wrong but he didn't. Eddie did.

"Not yet. Please. If Michael's still there I don't want him to see what car I get into. Y'know. Just in case." Eddie doesn't say it to get sympathy points, but he watches as Steve softens anyway.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course."

They wait in silence, and Eddie hates how tense it feels. But he made this bed.

-

Continued with tomorrow's prompt.

@steddielovemonth @nburkhardt @i-less-than-three-you @afewproblems @skepsiss

[vulpisnocturna]

Hey there! Glad to see you're back! ♥ Since you say you want headcanon requests... How would all our Uchiha's (mostly Itachi because I'm such a simp for him, but also Shisui, Sasuke, Madara, Obito and Indra and maybe Indra respond if their lover was confirmed to have been captured by enemy forces on a mission or during a war? And how would they respond if/when their lover was recovered alive but showing severe physical and mental damage from the torture they'd endured?

Hey my lovely, happy to be back 🤍

Uchiha reactions to a captured/PTSD suffering S/O

Itachi:

- would absolutely infiltrate enemy lines and retrieve their S/O, without sparing torture on the enemies. This man would torture them tenfold for every injury his S/O was subjected to. He would break their minds with Tsukuyomi and leave no survivors

- would be gentle and patient with his S/O, and it would break his heart to see them so broken after what happened to them. As a pacifist and someone who has a deep hatred for conflict and war, he would be furious and mournful that his SO has to live with the scars of the cruelty of the world

- He would definitely be the type to soothe his SO after nightmares, go for a walk in the moonlight with them to release pent-up stress, and generally be more protective of them. He would inform himself on how to best deal with panic attacks and try to therapise his S/O

- Itachi’s advice and “words of wisdom” may be of comfort but they may also fall flat because he tends to speak from a place of rationality more than emotion, and as a walking embodiment of PTSD, he’s one to talk. But hey, he is quite wise, and he means well.

Obito:

- Would literally go absolutely batshit crazy if his S/O was kidnapped and held hostage by the enemy. Cue the Rin flashbacks. Would destroy the world, burn it to ashes, go to Hell and back and make it rain blood. …Literally. He would be on his most unhinged, insane behaviour

- his SO should expect to never leave his side after that. He will be overprotective, like they are an infant who is at risk of dying with every breath

- would have nightmares about what happened and it would enrage him and break his heart to see his S/O broken by what they endured.

- wouldn’t know what to say or do to console them, except promise to always protect them and never let it happen again

Madara:

- you don’t fuck with Madara’s S/O. If you do, there is an incoming cataclysm your way. He would destroy their lineage for daring to hurting his loved ones. Would definitely worsen the war in an attempt to get revenge

- would be helpless in the face of dealing with PTSD. Madara is a strong person, who grew up not really learning how to express his feelings, and therefore, he doesn’t know how to deal with them

- would be the type to stand a few feet from them, stiff and awkward and boiling with fury and sorrow inside at the sight of their S/O hurting, but somehow, he can’t come up with anything worthwhile to say. Will probably say something like “it’s over now. It won’t happen again” and that’s it

Indra:

- oh boy, you messed up. His S/O is like his most prized possession to him, and no one can take that from him and break one of his things. Takes it more as a personal insult rather than anything else. Will kill everyone who disrespected him like that

- will probably be saddened but also frustrated by his S/O’s inability to get over what happened

- “it’s over now. No point crying about it”. He doesn’t mean to be cruel, but it’s just a matter of stating facts to him.

- what, his S/O doesn’t trust him to keep them safe or something? Do they doubt his strength?

Shisui:

- would definitely activate the other side of Shisui. Would efficiently and ruthlessly kill everyone who sought to hurt the person he loves. He would be there in a second

- the safety and comfort of his S/O after such a horrible ordeal would be his priority. A bit like Itachi, he would always be there to offer comfort, a shoulder to cry on or a distraction in difficult times to follow

- However, unlike Itachi’s therapy sessions, he is more the type to try to lighten the mood and lift his S/O’s spirits. He would make it his mission to make them laugh and keep them happy, sometimes to the point of stifling them and making them feel a little alienated

- if he’s asked to have a serious conversation about what happened, however, he is very serious about it, and very protective and comforting

Sasuke:

- cue a revenge plan. He is not joking around. This man has lost every single person he loved, and if his S/O is abducted and tortured, he is there in the span of 0.1 second raining hellfire on the people who dared hurt a person he loves

- This man is like a big ball of PTSD, and not the best at comforting and offering advice on how to heal. It’s taken him years, a self-discovery journey, an obsessive friend beating him up and exploding his arm to heal. Expect him to be there like a silent presence hovering around his S/O like a cat sensing something is wrong with their favourite person but not knowing what to do about it

- would wake them up from nightmares and sit with them in silence to calmly listen to them vent and cry. Sasuke is a very emotional person underneath, but he thinks he needs to be strong for his loved one, to be a safe haven but mostly an anchor to rely on

- would be terrified himself of losing his S/O again, and therefore be quite overprotective (he stalks his S/O secretly wherever they go)