#I'm so tired and desperately want to draw

[tactical-jellyfish]

The Mistakes That Have Been Made

Part 2.5 (bonus for the people. I think you guys need some good soup, from moi <3)

Warnings!: Angst, angst, and more angst. Reader will be MAD sad for most of this. Poorly-practiced, unhealthy polyamory. Reader will experience a LOT of gender and body dysphoria over the course of this (though I will do my best to keep it gender-neutral throughout, bear with me), but there WILL be comfort over that.

The team dynamics of the 141 have always been messy, ugly things, but this is ugly. You wouldn't wish it on anyone, really.

When you'd walked back to your own room, you'd heard Soap railing the daylights out of Gaz, cussing your name beneath his breath as the other sergeant groaned, high and throaty.

As awful as this feels, at least he's not doing that to you.

Johnny's always been a bit of a... rough bed partner, you know that, he's so eager to get into the heat of it that he never gives himself the time to warm up or cool down. Tends to be so enthusiastic that he doesn't offer much aftercare before he falls asleep, either.

Still, walking past Gaz's room brings back memories of that nasty, sick feeling that follows every intimate experience you've ever had.

It's the feeling that your body is somehow wrong, too tight in some parts and too loose in others, like the very existence of your form is a contradiction that just can't stand a second longer.

The way you hold your laptop shifts, pressing the metal into your chest to somehow remedy this ill. How? You're not sure. It doesn't work very well.

You try to shake it off as you open your door and sit on your bed, but the moans still breach your walls.

God, since when did Gaz sound like that? It feels like it's choking the air out of the room.

You put your best effort toward minding your own business, but you felt like you were losing your mind a half-hour into that endeavor, and instead thumped your fist on the wall, loud enough to send the message. Learning how to sign and trying to ignore... that was simply not a feasible task.

The moaning and creaking stops shortly after, and the sigh you heave is like no others, though you know damn well those two will definitely be pissy with you tomorrow.

Finally.

Plastic buzzing against the "wood" of your nightstand (shitty plywood painted white, as is standard issue) draws your focus away from that, if only for a second.

Heyhey! Do u wanna train together tmrw?? I think you'd do good if you took it easy w/me 😊 <33

The rubber and plastic of your case isn't all that comfortable in your hands, but you hold the magical little glass box in your hands anyway, peering down at the screen before chuckling to yourself.

Why should I?

Is your reply. It doesn't strike you that it might have been a bit on the nose, or that Gary might have read it differently, until the text bubble appears and disappears several times in a row, and you re-read it.

Oh no, you sound like an absolute asshole.

Sorry. I do want to, I just wanted to tease.

He's typing for another few seconds, before the bubble disappears one more time, and it starts to make you panic. More than you want to be panicking over him.

Don't be mad please, I'm sorry. I want to train with you.

How the mighty have fallen.

Look at you, desperately prostrating yourself before a rookie because you're absolutely moronic, praying that he'll offer you a reply. Whatever happened to four times the love?

Fuck. Don't think about that.

im not mad, ur fine just thought you might be a little grouchy from the meds or smth, wasnt sure if i should ask

You breathe a real sigh of relief at the returned messages, already more than tired by the day, but slightly soothed as you look down at the blue light of the screen, and send your last message of the day.

I'll see you at 0630. Goodnight.

A little red heart appears over your message, in the top left corner of the rounded bubble.

You plug in your phone and try to ignore how something in your chest squeezes at being deemed worthy of making plans more than two hours in advance.

It's a shockingly new thing, but goodness does it feel good, even if it brings on a sting of a more somber feeling.

Gaz and Soap sure as fuck didn't do this. Ghost either. You never expected Price to do that for you in the first place. Did they just... not think you were enough to make plans for? Was this pity?

You try to shake off the feeling as you bunch your blankets around your body, allowing your tired form to sink into the mattress and rest. The morning will clear your thoughts.

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[girlnadian]

(humble kenwatter voice)hi can you put the omz mask on seawattgaming this drabble request season

sorry i held this hostage for one months. forgive me. i hope you like this patented "everything only gets worse for kenadian forever" moment even though it is dreadfully late. blood and temporary character death warning

724 words // divider

When certain things happen in the present, Ken will find himself reminiscing on the past. His memory isn't what it used to be—hasn't been in a handful of years, now—so things aren't always clear, but he still likes doing it: finding cause and effect, identifying patterns, being able to trace the through line of where he was to where he is now.

Not for the first time, Ken realizes that it doesn't matter how often he reflects. Being aware of his actions has never changed the outcome. It all feels like fate playing a cruel joke.

Looking at Seawatt has never been hard for him before. It shouldn't be hard to look at Seawatt.

"Why," Ken's voice croaks dangerously, "why are you doing this to him?"

The mask tilts Seawatt's head. It's a sickening color against the glow of Seawatt’s skin, too-pale and nearly-green and jarring against the pure white of his robes. It almost makes Ken laugh, how out of place it all feels—he traces the through line over and over and it still doesn't lead him to why, why, why on earth would the Omz Mask give a fuck about SeaWattgaming? What does Seawatt offer it? It can only be to hurt Ken. Well, it's working; Ken wants to scream.

"You left him out for me," he– it says. Seawatt can be uppity and arrogant, but he doesn't have it in him to croon like that. It's an unnatural cadence for him, like it doesn't fit right in his throat. Ken anticipated the blow, but it still hurts.

It's always his fault and he's so tired of putting people in danger. Seawatt doesn't deserve this. If anyone is innocent in all this, it's Seawatt: he's a bystander at most, dragged off of the sidelines only by his association with Ken. If Ken hadn't started this, if Ken had been a better person–

It's Seawatt's hand that reaches out to him. Ken prickles but can't find the resolve to bat it away.

"He's easy to control," Seawatt's voice drops into a murmur, quieter and quieter the more his body crowds into Ken's space. "Me and him, we want the same thing."

"You and Seawatt?"

Ken thinks Why the hell am I talking to it? a little too late. The body hums.

"You," it says.

A flash of emotion runs through Ken all at once, white hot dread and anger that makes all his fur stand on end.

"Shut up."

"He wants you desperately. Do you know that?"

"I said shut up!"

"But you just want to play," Seawatt's hands have found Ken's wrists. Ken's claws flex against his own palms until he draws blood—it runs down his wrist until it hits the barrier of Seawatt's fingers. Ken hisses, ears pinned back, teeth bared in a snarl that gets louder with every word, as if he can drown it all out. He won't– he won't let this thing do this, take this moment from Seawatt, he won't, he won't–

But Seawatt has the advantage in height and weight. The mask has no qualms holding Ken in place until he bruises, and Ken isn't going to hurt Seawatt any more than he needs to. He only knows one other way to shut Seawatt up.

"Even though he's in l–"

Ken jerks forward, knocking their teeth together in a kiss that's all ache and no kindness. The noise that startles out of Seawatt's body is a yelp, squeaky and genuine and Seawatt, not the Mask, so Ken pushes harder.

It's hard to maneuver around the porcelain, but Ken tilts his head as best he can to stop the other from pulling away. His wrists are free a moment later—Seawatt's hands end up on his lower back, instead. Ken believes, more than anything, that it's Seawatt touching him. He digs his fingers into the fabric over Seawatt's torso.

"I'm sorry," Ken whines. I'll make it quick.

There's blood on Ken's hands and the front of his hoodie, but it's worse on Seawatt. It spills over his dark skin and stains the white and gold of his clothes. The gash in Seawatt's throat is shaped like Ken's claws. Ken leans forward to press a kiss against it and gets a mouthful of copper for his trouble.

When the body drops and despawns, Ken sinks to the floor alone.

[aiko-kpwc]

Yeah if you guys wanna request for your oc to be drawn, a pride icon thingy, or even that thing where you give me a name and I turn it into a drawing, just yeah- head to my ask box or smt-

[jiffy-jeff]

uhhhhh sry for disappearing i was travelling and thus away from my pc. here's dash, lake, nightmare and abyss

fun fact the HK lineart is a 6 pixel airbrush and pretty easy I highly recommend

[thornheartless]

Feeling very out of place with people, the world. I don't know. Like I talk too much but end up being quiet at the wrong times.

[teenytraveler]

hi guys i'm still alive btw work's just been kicking my butt cause i've been working over time for over 2 weeks now pls don't forget about me i just don't have the time nor energy for art rn :((

[sevenswansinatrenchcoat]

As someone who has been involved in running/setting up quite a few grassroots organisations, I just wanna say a few things that I don't think people on the outside always realise

1. The organisation is probably run by about 3-5 people. If you want to help them out please do

2. If the org is not being as inclusive as you'd like, you're welcome to bring it up but also think about if you can help facilitate that. Accessibility is such a difficult thing to hit every box on for small/grassroots orgs and we're often trying our best and having to compromise on things like

Price

Ability to hire sign language interpreters

Finding venues that are accessible by public transport and wheelchair accessible

Basically, be nice to people organising local stuff, just cos we've got an Instagram page and an email address it doesn't mean we've got a massive team! A lot of stuff like this is volunteer run by people like you and we're doing our best!

[weed-cat]

[the-acid-pear]

I'm hitting rock bottom <- dude whose belly aches so fucking much because he ate pork.

[hoziersong]

do you mind if i ramble in the tags about my weird relationship with making art in fandom for a second

[league-of-simps]

Cannot stop thinking about virgin!Tomura and I'm losing my mind.

Virgin!Tomura gets an ounce of kindness from that pretty person who just joined and he clings onto that interaction because it makes him feel different.

Virgin!Tomura who, during a meeting, sees you sitting up and notices your shirt riding up in the back. His tired eyes glancing down to your exposed skin, face growing hot. He wonders how your skin would feel under his rough touch... would you squirm if he just reached out now to feel you? Would you tell him to stop? To move lower? He had been zoning out so hard Kurogiri had to draw him back in.

Virgin!Tomura trying to keep his composure as he catches you leaving the League's shared bathroom in a pair of pajamas. It was a pair of shorts and a T-shirt but holy fuck did this sight of you stir something in him. He retreats back to his room, slamming the door behind him, breathing heavily. Your legs. Fuck. Your legs.

Virgin!Tomura leaning back against his door as he desperately pumped his cock with a tight fist, trying to imagine how pretty your moan would be if you'd let him sink his teeth into your thighs. He wanted to taste you. To mark you as his. To keep you in his room, lapping at your cunt like a thirsty dog.

Virgin!Tomura finding your name dying on his tongue as his cum spurts out onto the floor in front of him. His climax hitting him so hard he has to quickly steady himself on the door knob. In his haste to not fall, the door knob is decayed, effectively locking him in his room unless he either decays the door as well or gets someone to open it for him.

Maybe he could get you to open it for him.

[brainddeadd]

needy and exhausted channie

smut

bang chan is exhausted, horny and desperately needs to be fucked, but he really can't be bothered to do anything.

you sit over his lap, as he leans back, arms up, hands behind his head, his eyes watching you move.

"what you doing baby?"

in response you push your hips down over his hard cock. his eyes roll back and his hips buck.

"baby, I'm too tired to please you."

"channie, if you want me to get off, i will. but if you want to cum, i'm more than happy to help, to do all the work."

he closes his eyes and sucks in a deep breath.

"you don't have to, baby."

"i want to."

he stares at you for a minute before moving his hands to your hips and pulling you along his cock.

you smile and lean down to press a kiss to his lips before pulling away and lifting your weight enough to pull his cock from his pants and move your panties to the side.

"baby-"

"i stretched myself earlier. i'm ready for you."

chan groans at that and moves his hands to your hips, helping to steady you as you slowly sink onto him.

"shit baby, so tight."

you start rocking your hips over his cock once you've adjusted to his size. he leaves his hands resting on your hips as you ride him, his fingers flexing over your skin as the pleasure takes over his senses.

you lean down to kiss him, only pulling away in time for him to push your shirt off and latch his lips to your nipple.

"fuck channie."

you start to ride him faster, pushing his shoulders back as you lean on him for leverage to strengthen the force of your bounces on his cock.

"off off baby." chan pushes you up and over onto your back, leaving you to frown in confusion as he pulls off your underwear.

"channie?"

"wanna have you under me. gotta-" he trails off as he pushes his cock back into your pussy, his torso coming up to cover yours, as he cradles you in his arms.

"love you baby, love you love you love you." he's babbling and almost incoherent, rutting into you desperately.

"i love you, channie."

he whimpers and pulls up, kneeling before you and pulling you to meet the force of his thrusts.

"need you to cum baby." he's begging, and presses his thumb to your clit.

"fuck." you're slurring your words and helpless to do anything other than ride out the orgasm chan draws from you, moaning when you feel him push his cock in as deeply as he can and his warm cum flood your pussy.

chan let's his body fall forward and rest on you.

"i love you."

"i love you, channie."

[number8bciate]

I couldn't let myself forget you.

Set in season four, so spoilers ahead for that. This is based on episode five, I believe.

Cw: Lila and five in episode Five :P

You and five hadn't known one another long, a few years at most, but in that short amount of time, he had found himself growing quite attached to you. He wouldn't admit it outloud. That's just the kind of man he was. He didn't need anyone, but no one could understand him. He couldn't explain it either because he would sound just as insane as the people he had been investigating, but then there was you.

You were too nieve for your own good, but part of him loved you for it. It meant that anything he told you in your head made sense.

"Wait- that was our stop." Lila and Five spoke at the same time, pressing their hands and cheek against the door of the train as they tried to manipulate the train into going back but the platform that they needed to be on just got smaller and smaller and smaller.

Year one

Five thought about you all the time. When he was getting shot at, he thought of how you might bandage his wounds if he got hit or how you would scold him because he was in a dangerous situation. He sat down in the train station, watching Lila as she ate, wondering if she had been having the same thoughts about his brother, or if maybe she was thinking of her kids. He hated the fact that the memory of you was the only thing that kept him going, that kept him trying to get back home, not his family, but you... to be honest, you felt like his family now.

Year Two

"What's that?" Lila asked, peering over the older boys shoulder as she cut his hair for him, trying to catch a glimpse of what had been occupying his thoughts for the last few weeks. He shielded the book from her view, smacking it shut to ensure that she wouldn't see the contents. "Come on, Five!" She pressed, leaning over his shoulder, trying to grab his book, she thought it was harmless, he did not.

"Lila!" He yelled at her, with a different kind of tone in his voice, he was desperate, clearly, he was grieving too and she knew that but she was only trying to lighten the mood a little.

Year Three

Five had now filled three separate books with something in them, Lila wasn't sure what it was, but every time she tried to ask, she got a response not too far off a rabid dog that was protecting it's property, she knew it was important, which was why she wanted to know, which was why she waited until he was dead asleep to try and find out what it was one last time.

She skimmed through the pages that were mostly filled with useless words that made no sense put together, but Five's handwriting had never been the best anyway. She flipped through each page. Only one thing was recurring, and it was a random drawing of someone she knew but didn't know from where.

Year Four

The both of them were growing tired. It was hard to keep running and running with no sight of the end. Five knew Lila was fed up. He understood why, but he couldn't give up, not when he knew that you were still out there waiting for him because he knew you would be.

Year Five

"Hey Five." Lila leaned onto Five, both of them trying to find some sort of warmth between them as the cold metal of the train station dug into their backs. He hummed softly, looking around the room, trying to see if there was something they had missed. He knew there wasn't, but he thought he'd try anyway. "You know that greenhouse, the one with the strawberries?" She started, leaning her head fully on his shoulder now. He nodded, not willing to speak because he knew what her next suggestion would be. "How about we stop there for a few days? I- I know we've - I know we need to get home, I'm just... tired." He understood. Of course he did. He had been through this before, but the time before, he was all alone.

"Sure." He said softly, turning to look at the stacks of books that he had filled, he thought of you, and realized you'd want him to take a break, you'd beg him to, and so he decided he would go, but only for a few weeks.

Year Six

Five walked into the green house, looking at Lila and then the berry bush she was tending to. She tossed one strawberry at him, then another, then another. "If you keep that up, we won't have any left for the winter." He smiled as she threw one more and turned to her as she began walking towards him. She tripped up in a few watering cans that had been discarded on the floor, and he caught her just before she was able to hit the floor.

"Oh- sorry." He noticed the blush on her face, then felt his cheeks begin to heat. His hand rested on her cheek, cupping them and rubbing his fingers over her soft flesh, then he looked to the strawberries on the floor and pulled away, running to the stack of books on the table and joting down a few notes. "What just happened?" She walked over to him, her arms crossing as she leaned against the wall.

"What do you mean?" He asks, slamming the book shut and poking it into his bag. He turned to her, noticing that she had a slight pout across her face.

"Whatever that was." He stared at her for a while, shrugged his shoulders, and walked away.

Year Seven

"I'm going out to look for some more scrap metal."

"What happened to the stuff we already had?" Lila asked curiously, looking the boy up and down. He rubbed his fingers over the braclet in his pocket, the one he had made.

"I have no clue." He walked out of the house and back to the train station. He grabbed a few wires, tugging on them before he slipped and dropped his flashlight down onto the tracks. He looked both ways, just to be safe and climbed down onto them. "What's that?" He thought out loud as he grabbed a book he had never seen before. He climbed back up onto the train platform and opened the book. "That's my handwriting." He pointed out to himself as he read what was throughout the pages, figuring out that it was their way home.

"What's that?" Lila asked, sitting down next to him.

"A way home." He said simply, flipping through more of the pages, everything inside of his head clicking together like it had been obvious the whole time. He shook his head in disappointment in himself.

"Wait, what?" Lila asked, chasing after him as he ran back to their house and packed up his bag. "Should we think about this first?" She suggested.

"Think about what?" He asked, stuffing the books into his bag as he changed into what he had been wearing the day they had left.

"That- Maybe this is a trap of some sort? Set by the older, uh? Younger? You." She followed him around the house, trying to keep his pace as he charged out the door.

"I'm willing to take the risk, why aren't you?" He turns around. She almost smashed right into him.

"I am. I just think we need to consider the fact that this could be a trap." He understood her concern. Some people would rather not take the risk, there was a chance that this was a trap, and that they would die.

"Stay here if you want, I'm going." He decided and made his way back to the train station, her following closely behind him.

When they returned, it had only been an hour or two, you were sitting in between Allison and Luther and bounced your leg nervously, wondering where Five could have gone. Lila, walked in through the door followed by Five who's eyes searched the room until they landed on you. You jumped up out of your seat and ran over to him, wrapping your arms around him and holding him close. He nearly cried, as much as he hated to admit it, his eyes welled with tears, feeling you pressed against him was something he didn't think he'd ever feel again. "I wasn't gone that long." His voice shook, but only slightly as you pulled away from him to check him for any injuries, because you knew how careless he could be.

"It was too long." You smiled though, no matter how pissed you were at him for not returning your calls or texts, you were just glad he was alright.

He looked around the room again and stuffed his hand onto his pocket, feeling the braclet that he had forgotten about. The two of you walked to the center of the room, you sat down where you had been and five remained standing, you glanced over to Lila who had a distant look in her eyes as she looked at her husband and then you looked back to five, who was now standing right infront of you, playing with something in his pocket.

Everyone's attention was brought to him as he cleared his throat, he knew it was sudden, and he knew he would jump off the side of a cliff if you happened to not reciprocate his feelings, but he dropped down onto one knee and pulled a bag out of his pocket. Allison, who was now sitting up straight with a face full of surprise gasped at the sight if her oldest brother on his knee.

"I- Jesus. Uhm." You looked to Lila who, unlike before, was now focused on Five, but it wasn't that unusual, right? Besides the fact that her face held signs of jealousy and sadness, it wasn't weird at all. Your heart fluttered when he held out his cupped hands towards you, his eyes pleading with you to take the bag that was in them. "Y/n.." He spoke carefully, as his cheeks began to redden as Allison's reaction threw him off the piller of confidence he was once standing on.

You nodded, ready to hear what he had to say, you hands grabbed the bag but remained in their place, trying to soothe the old man's nerves as he worked up the courage to speak. "Will you give me the honor of.. marrying me?" You squealed and jumped out of your seat, pulling Five to his feet and you kissed him. "Will you?" He whispered to you this time.

"Yes I will." You kissed him once more.

Once the excitement settled down, and the bracelet sat proudly on your wrist, you noticed the bag that your fiancé had brought in with him. "What's that?" You asked, pointing to the bag. He bit his lip nervously and pulled a few of the books he had filled up the bag. Revealing the contents to you. The words didn't make sense to you either, until you saw your face, the soft brush strokes that he used to draw your hair and your eyes, you had never looked so beautiful.

He kissed your cheek and whispered into your ear, his lips brushing against them. "I- I couldn't let myself forget you."

"You remembered I like strawberries." You pointed out, you ignored the way he flinched when you had mentioned it, but he ran his fingers over the words and nodded softly.

"Of course I did."

[entitled-fangirl]

Cheeky.

Gwayne Hightower x wife!reader

SMUT 18+

Summary: the reader gets tired of Gwayne's smart remarks.

Warnings: fingering, teasing, sub!Gwayne, uhhh, idk kissing and cursing?

A/n: based on an ask!!!!!! I'm rubbing my hands like a fly for this one. It's good

Masterlist

.........................................

"Gwayne, please," she huffed lightly as she walked past him.

The man's attention immediately shifted to her and he began to follow her into their chambers. A smirk pulled at his lips, "To what do I owe the pleasure of your sweet company, dear wife?"

She paused and looked at him, "Why do you only mock me?"

His brows furrowed, "What?"

"You only speak to me with snide remarks and a quick tongue," she said as she put her hand on her hips. "It was charming at first, and now it grows tired."

His gaze softened immensely as guilt drew in his gut. "Do you truly think I intend to mock you when I do so?"

"Perhaps." She considered his question. "I… I do not know."

"Dear wife," he cooed and took her hands in his. "I only jest at you because I love your smile so. Your laughter is greater than the greatest music the finest musicians play." He rubbed his thumbs across her knuckles. "I apologize if you ever believed I thought ill of you."

She leaned forward and place a small kiss onto his nose, "I want you."

His cheeks turned the color of his hair as his eyes widened, "W… What?"

She whispered lowly. "I need you."

His usual smirk returned as his eyes turned to confident. "My wife grows wet at my kind words, does she?"

She reached up to the back of his head and pulled his lips to hers, kissing fervently.

Gwayne pulled her waist to his, their bodies now flush against one another. "Is that a yes?" He panted against her lips.

"Kiss me, Gwayne Hightower, or I shall find another to."

Her unusual teasing sent a jolt down Gwayne's spine. "You wouldn't dare."

She pulled back and her eyes lit with a playful fire. "I will."

His head tilted to challenge her.

She huffed and turned to the door, but before her hand could touch the handle of it, Gwayne threw his back against the door to keep her from leaving. 

"I won't let another man touch you while I still draw breath, little wife."

She noted the way his chest heaved and a desperation came through his eyes. "Then do not let them. Undress and get on the bed."

He stared down at her, contemplating if she was truly asking him to do such a task. "My wife wishes to make demands to me?"

She grinned and leaned against him. "Indeed."

He nodded, and his voice was unusually soft, "Then I will do as she asks."

He moves from the door and walks to the bed, pulling at his clothing as he did so. 

She watches him with lustful eyes as more of his skin came into her view. 

Soon, he sat playfully on the edge of the bed in nothing but his small clothes. He held his arms out, his smirk growing, "And now?"

She took painfully slow steps towards him, "You're a beautiful man, Gwayne Hightower."

He squints at her, "Are you stroking my ego?"

She stood between his legs and took his face in her hands. Their faces neared. "If I stroke your ego now, I'll get to do what I wish with you later."

He let out a chuckle, "Is that so?"

She nodded, "Every time."

He hummed, leaning up to try to capture her lips, but she pulled away by a mere inch. His lips part in disappointment, but he tried again. She pulled away once again.

He closed his eyes as a breathy laugh left his lips, "You're a tease, my love. What must I do?"

"I want my husband to beg for me," she finally admitted as she stood straight.

Pure surprise overtook his features which then morphed into adrenaline. 

"I can do so."

His hands grabbed her waist, pulling her to him as he began to kiss up her clothed stomach. "Let me make you feel good."

She let him, playing with the redhead's hair as he did so. He slowly stood as his lips moved up her body to her neck. 

"Please, sweet wife," he begged before sucking at her neck and smoothing it over with his tongue. 

A whine escaped her throat at the feeling and her resolve slowly began to fade. "Gwayne…"

She felt his teeth against her neck as he smirked, "Yes?"

She forced herself to close her eyes to keep herself from giving into him right there and then. She took a deep breath. "Beg me."

His breath faltered. He was sure he had broken her. 

He considered a thought before giving in completely and kneeling down in front of his wife, his hands holding her hips still. 

The way his eye observed her, taking in every square inch as if she hung each star in the sky made a familiar feeling rise in her stomach. 

His earlier teasing smile was gone completely, replaced with an admiring one.

She reached down and brushed her fingers against his cheek, to which he leaned into her palm happily.

"Undress me, husband."

He wasted no time. He stood and pulled at the strings of her bodice, his fingers more clumsy than usual.

Soon she stood in her shift and only then did she turn to him again. "On the bed."

He backed up and fell onto the bed when it hit the back of his legs. He pushed himself onto the mattress and waited in anticipation. 

She crawled onto the bed, straddling him as a wide grin broke across her face, "You've been good."

He moved to say something snarky, but nothing came out. He only laid there gawking like an idiot.

She trailed a hand agonizingly down his chest and stomach, leaving goosebumps in its wake, "Do you deserve a reward?"

He blinked blankly and nodded, still dumbfounded. 

Her hand on his stomach trailed up her thighs, taking the seam of her shift with her, revealing her skin to him inch by inch.

He only watched with glossed-over eyes. Her hand began to move between her thighs. 

She let out a high whine as she sunk a finger into herself and the shift dropped, leaving Gwayne with nothing to watch but her expressions. 

She pumped her hand in and out of herself slowly, letting out small whines and moans.

Gwayne cursed under his breath as he felt himself grow hard with no outlet. His hips jerked subconsciously, but she didn't notice. 

She continued, two fingers plunging in and out of her now and she willed herself to look at Gwayne beneath her as she did so, "It feels so good, Gwayne… oh… oh, fuck…."

He let out a frustrated grunt, "you evil woman…"

Soon, her head leaned back and a final whine came from her lips as the spring in her stomach snapped and she came. 

She panted as she removed her fingers from herself and looked down at him. 

He looked ready to flip her and take her with no remorse, but he was holding himself back. He told himself he would. But by the gods, it was hard to.

It was worth it now. His reward was coming. 

She leaned down and kissed his lips with a cheeky grin. 

"My reward?" He whispered lowly.

"You already got it." She smirked as she swung her leg off of him and stood from the bed on shaky legs. She wrapped a thin cloak around herself. "Stop being so cheeky with me in the future, Gwayne Hightower, and I may give you a real one."

He watched dumbfounded as she left their chambers.

.................................................

[luveline]

Ok what about a lil fic of Remus being snappy with his gf leading up to the full moon? Just some angst and then fluffy ending with them reconciling

thank u for ur request! —remus says something he shouldn't before the full moon, and later campaigns for your forgiveness with affection and a confession. fem!reader, 1.2k

Remus lays on the couch with his forearm pressed to his eyes. It's the day before the full moon, and he feels the hours approaching like a death sentence every time. You hover in the doorway, watching, unsure of how to help. He gets the same every month (or rather, every cycle). 

Irritable. So anxious he can't breathe properly, let alone enter conversation. 

You hate seeing him like this. Your Remus, who spends every moment you're together trying to make sure you're as happy as you can be. 

Cautious, you round the sofa to crouch by his face. You hold out your hand, trailing a gentle fingertip down the length of his arm, tripping over pinched skin ridged by scars. He's beautiful no matter what, but he gets insecure about how he looks every full moon. You know he thinks he's a monster. You've no way to prove it to him beyond this. 

"Hey, handsome," you say softly. "I know you're not hungry, but I made dinner anyway if you feel up to it. And I know," —you drop your voice to a near whisper— "I know you're not in the mood, but I'm here. I can sit here and stroke your hair in silence all night if that's what you want, my love. I'll do whatever you want." 

"Then leave me alone," he says. 

Half snap, half firm defeat. You wince at the ire in his voice. It won't ever be nice to have someone you love speak to you like you're getting on their nerves, but you know what it is he's facing. You know this is hard for him to cope with. You can forgive him for everything if he makes it through this in one piece. 

"Okay. I'm sorry. I love you, Remus." 

He turns his head toward the sofa cushions. 

You leave the room with a heavy heart. In the kitchen, you try to eat, but every mouthful makes you feel sick, your eyes welling with tears as you chew. You're hurt, he's hurting, and this really, really sucks. 

The smell of dinner starts to amplify the nausea. You grab your plate and carry it to the back door, scraping your leftovers straight into the rubbish. You wash your plate and leave it to drip dry on the draining board, your eyes burning. You sniff, wiping your nose in your sleeve. 

You're hoping desperately that Remus will come around before bed, but he stays where he is. Thinking he's finally found sleep and wanting to leave him to that blissful reprieve, you creep through the living room and down the hallway into the bedroom. Tears fall as you change into your pyjamas. You're so tired that you barely have time to cry yourself to sleep. 

You're not sure how much longer it is when you wake. A familiar hand cups your cheek. 

From the warmth of your skin, he's had his hand there for a while. 

"I'm so sorry," Remus says. 

You don't know how he knows you're awake. He must have been watching you long enough to spot the difference. Honestly, you're not sure you want to see him yet, because you love him so much, and it breaks your heart to be at the end of his disdain even when you know the cause. 

You struggle to see him in the dark. 

"I should never have spoken to you like that." 

Your eyes close of their own accord, exhausted and sore from crying. "You didn't mean it." 

"I wish you'd shout at me," he murmurs, sliding his hand over your ear. His thumb draws along the shell of your ear. 

"I'm too tired," you mumble. 

Remus' head shifts closer to yours. Sharing the same pillow, his hand falls to your shoulder, his arm wrapping around you, a firm bicep pressed to your front. 

You let yourself lean into it. His breath warms the space between your brows. 

"It's no excuse, but I… I can't think of anything else but the pain, sometimes. I get so angry about it, because I'm–" He stops short, swallowing audibly in the otherwise silent room. "I'm scared. But I would be a hundred times more terrified if I didn't have you, knowing you're there for me, unflinchingly, before and after it happens, it helps me get through it. It's not fair that you give me so much peace and I just… 

"I'm sorry, dove. I don't mean to take advantage of your… heart." He says heart like he's been winded. He hadn't sounded finished, but everything stops at that word. 

You force your eyes open. He's looking at you with an unspeakable amount of love, kind to keel you over if you were standing. His eyes are pitch black in the lack of light, irises melded with pupils, giving him an even sorrier gaze. You raise a sluggish hand to his where it rests behind your back and pull it back to your face. You miss his touch. 

"I love you," you say. 

"I know," he says, his jaw tensing in an attempt to stage off tears. "I love you, too." You watch them collect in the corners of his eyes, following one as it slides to rest in the dip of his nose bridge while he lies on his side like this. 

"So don't be sorry." 

"But I am sorry. I can't fathom why I think it's okay to treat you that way." 

"You don't think at all, Remus. I'm not being flippant, but you're busy worrying about the worst of it." You shake your head gently. His hand twitches against your cheek. "I don't blame you." 

"I know," he utters. 

You stare up at him as he sits enough to tower over you. His smile is sorry, in love and ashamed. You want to tell him how it doesn't matter, that it's okay, but you're thinking maybe you need him to say it first. 

"I'm sorry." 

"Remus, you only told me to leave you alone." 

"I need you to know that any other time, you're all that I want. You're everything. I couldn't ask for more than you. Please don't think I'm cruel," he pleads in a whisper. 

You lift your chin incrementally. "I'd never think that." 

His apology kiss is coddling. Like he's worried he'll hurt you, like he's holding back, he kisses you like you can't handle more than a chaste press of the lips. 

"I love you," he says into it. 

You lift your head to kiss him harder. You love him, and you won't break. You can be exactly as strong as he needs you to be, so long as love waits at the end of the night. 

"I love you." A huff of a laugh escapes him. "Does this mean I'm forgiven?" Caution has his joke falling flat.

You nuzzle your cheek against his, knowing you'd forgiven him just as soon as he'd snapped. "If you let me stroke your hair. Did you eat your dinner?" 

"I'll eat it tomorrow," he says. A white lie, you both know, but he slides down further under the sheets so you can reach his head. 

You card your fingers through his hair until you've both fallen asleep. 

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗟𝗢𝗣𝗛𝗢𝗕𝗜𝗔

　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N has suffered with an eating disorder for years, but lately, - because of the some "fans" and social media - her insecurities have been taking her to a more than dangerous path, which she couldn't get out without help.

WARNING: anorex!a, eating disorder, comparison, self sabotage, self hatred, panic attack, pure angst... PLEASE read with caution!

REQUESTED?: No.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Atelophobia; the fear of not being good enough.

This was one of the millions of fears and problems that haunted Y/N's mind. Her head convinced her a long time ago that she simply wasn't enough; for her school teachers, for her classmates, for her friends, for her parents, past boyfriends... not even for herself.

This led her to listen to what others said and thought about herself since she was very young, the desire to be perfect and within society's standards in all aspects of a human being consumed her; personality, thoughts, knowledge... body.

She was told all the time how she should behave, act, and be. She was just a child, but that didn't seem to matter to those who did it, clogging her up with responsibilities and comparisons.

One thing led to another. Her desperation to be the best at everything started to include her own body. "Fat" was the first word people used to describe her. She had no control over the situations around her, but she had control over her weight.

Y/N was always the biggest girl in her class, and her classmates seemed to love reminding her of that; often being excluded from work groups, forgotten in groups of friends, or not chosen in any team during Physical Education classes.

Until the year when everything changed. During the school vacation, she decided to change, intending to return to school as a new girl. The new cycle started well, Y/N saw a nutritionist, cutting out all fatty foods from her routine and consuming only healthy ones. She started going to the gym daily, doing the recommended training time. All of this led her to lose a significant amount of weight.

Soon, the vacation was over, and with that, the negative comments from her classmates were replaced by positive comments. Girls asking what she had done to lose weight like that, searching for advice and seeing her as a miracle. Boys saying how changed and prettier she looked.

How could she not fall in love with her own illness?

So, that made her feel good. Too good... her mind began to yearn to become thinner, more beautiful, just to hear more from others. And then the healthy diet and the one hour training at the gym were no longer enough for her. She needed more if she wanted to be better.

Y/N then intensified her training, staying at the gym for 2 hours per day, doing more reps with more weight. She crossed out several foods from the list of permitted that her nutritionist had made, choosing for herself the ones she thought were ideal, until it had almost nothing left.

Her brain self-sabotaged so that she wouldn't go out with her friends, because they would definitely want to eat somewhere and she wouldn't be able to.

She no longer participated in family dinners, creating excuses so as not to be forced to sit at the table and eat.

Her mind convinced her that she wasn't thin enough to satisfy her boyfriends' sexual and non-sexual desires, which made her pull away during or at the beginning of any relationship she had until the guy got tired, or she simply ended it.

She spent hours on the internet, searching for sensational diets that reduced daily calories to 500 or less, promising extraordinary weight loss. In addition to getting on the scale at least 4 times a day, hoping for a miracle every time she looked at the numbers.

Y/N replaced her eating schedules with random hobbies like drawing, learning a new instrument, or picking flowers from her garden to make flower crowns, occupying her time and mind.

Some things scared her, her period hadn't come in months, clumps of hair fell out every time she ran her hands through it. Her vision went dark at least 3 times a day. Her body shivered from the complete cold of her insides, and her stomach hurt more than usual.

But she had to suffer them alone since she had no one to talk to about, always alone.

Until Y/N met Matt.

Matt was the boy who made her want to get better. He encouraged her to look for a hospital that fit her preferences, where Y/N finally began to receive psychiatric and psychological care.

Her diet changed for the better, into foods that Y/N saw as safe. She did not abandon the gym but reduced the weight and time, maintaining her training just for the health of her muscles, as she had lost a lot of lean mass during her worst moment.

The calculator in her head finally stopped. Her eyes started seeing food as just food and not as the enemy. Her stomach craved for all the snacks she loved, and she finally ate them, without feeling guilty.

Matt was so thoughtful about her entire situation, having suffered himself with extreme anxiety from a young age. He could tell he understood in parts what it was like to live with a mental illness.

So he helped her maintain her healthy diet and eat all her daily meals within her limit - often opting to eat together in their room, since he knew the trepidation Y/N still felt about doing it in front of other people.

Matt praised her in every possible situation, trying not to be extreme but to show his intense love and support for the girl. All of that was helping her a lot.

Until it wasn't.

Y/N and Matt never hid their relationship from the public, the girl knew how famous her boyfriend was and how difficult it could be to keep their relationship hidden, they would be seen together at one time or another.

So it wasn't surprising that the girl appeared in some of the triplets' pictures sometimes, and that's what happened that Friday.

As usual, Nick posted a photo dump on the triplets Instagram to promote the publication of their new car video, and one of the photos was of Matt and Y/N, specifically one in which the two were sitting on the couch in their living room, the girl had her legs draped over Matt's thighs, while his tattooed arm wrapped tightly around her waist, huge smiles decorating their faces.

It was a cute photo, but apparently, that wasn't what fans thought.

While Matt and his brothers were in the kitchen, preparing healthy snacks - a habit they built through the girl, but which in the end helped everyone -, Y/N was lying on her bed in the room she shared with Matt, wrapped in too-warm covers, holding her phone with her right hand while her left hand wrapped around her stomach in an almost painful grip.

Her thumb scrolled through the comments screen beneath the post. Almost everyone there talking about her picture with Matt.

"Matt can do so much better than her"

"I really don't know what he saw in her"

"She's going to end up crushing him like that"

"I'll pay for the gym for her if that's the price for Matt to have a worthy girlfriend"

And so on, it was as if they knew all of Y/N's weaknesses.

Some fans of them could be cruel when they wanted to, and Y/N knew this by heart since seeing Nick crying several times because he was body shamed, or when she noticed Chris being quieter than usual after reading comments saying how loud he was and how that was unbearable.

Her heart was crushed every time she saw Matt suffer in silence until he couldn't hold it in any longer and finally cried in her lap for hours after reading people saying how insignificant and quiet he was in the videos.

Even though a huge mass of the fandom loved them with all their hearts and took care of them as much as the distance of a phone screen allowed, it still wasn't enough to swallow the hate comments.

But when it came to Y/N, more than half of the fandom turned against her. Maybe out of envy, but it was obvious that the girl didn't see it that way. She was convinced that they were right.

Her heart tightened as if someone was crushing it with their bare hands. The air seemed to escape her lungs, and the lunch she ate hours before seemed to want to go up her throat. Her fingers trembled as she held her stomach, feeling everything she had and didn't have there. Her eyes began to water, her lips quivering from the tears that wanted to escape.

Y/N quickly moved her finger to the back button, hoping to break out of the horrible cycle she was about to enter. A loud sob escaped her lips when, upon finally leaving the post, her feed reloaded, and a picture of a model that Y/N followed and admired appeared.

Comparison was her biggest enemy.

Negative thoughts about herself began to pollute her mind, everything around her becoming a fog. The sounds coming from the kitchen became muffled to her ears. Y/N's right hand - which was holding her phone - was gripping the device in such a way that her fingers turned white. Painful sobs escaped her mouth as her eyes remained fixed on the woman's perfect figure.

Why can't I be like her?

The longing for the sensations she felt when she starved hit her chest hard. The desire to want to be as thin as before - or more - filled her.

It didn't take long, and soon, the bedroom door was slowly opened, Matt's silhouette appearing behind it. His face was lit up with a smile - probably because of some joke his brothers made - while his right hand held a plate with two sandwiches.

His cheerful expression was replaced by a frown of concern. Matt quickly closed the door with his feet, walking towards the bed, haphazardly placing the plate on the nearest bedside table before sitting down on the mattress.

His hands flew to Y/N's waist, stopping over her own hand that was squeezing her skin with a force that was sure to leave it bruised.

The girl seemed to wake up from her trance, lifting her head and meeting Matt's calming - but worried - gaze. She cried harder as she imagined what her boyfriend would be thinking of her now.

Automatically, her mind started to play her current state, messy hair, swollen and red face, skin wet with tears, eyes half closed and mouth open, allowing sobs to escape from there.

"M-Matt-" Her sentence was cut off by a sob, her eyes closing tightly.

Matt took a deep breath, trying to process what to do next. His left hand - the one that didn't cover hers - slowly took the phone, taking it out of his girl's death grip. He glanced briefly at the screen, automatically understanding what was happening before locking it and putting the device aside.

He moved his body so that it was closer to hers, resting his hand on her spine and guiding her until she laid her head on his chest, caressing the area below his fingers.

Matt felt his heart break with every tremble that rocked the body beneath his caused by the sobs. If he could take that pain away from his girlfriend, he would.

"It's okay, baby, let it out. I'm right here." He cooed, his fingers caressed the tangled strands of her hair lightly, stroking the area while moving his upper body back and forth, slowly calming his girlfriend.

"Ma-Matty-" Y/N's voice was weak, wobbly from the pain in her heart.

Matt removed his hand from hers for a few seconds, stretching it to the bedside table - where the plate was -, taking the bottle of water that Y/N always filled before going to sleep. He opened the lid in one quick movement, bringing it close to his girl's face.

"Come on, my love. Sit down for a moment and take a sip of water. Please." The boy asked in a soft voice, helping Y/N straighten her posture before bringing the bottle closer to her lips, helping her take a few small sips of the contents.

He closed the bottle after making sure she was satisfied, placing it on the mattress before turning his attention to Y/N again. He brushed away the strands of hair from her face, tucking them behind her ear.

"What if they're right?" She asked in a whisper, catching her bottom lip between her teeth in an attempt to keep from crying.

"No, they aren't." Matt's tone was convincing, as if he was absolutely sure of what he was saying. "You are not worse than others because of your weight. You look great as you are. Your body is perfect, do you know why? Because he's healthy enough to carry you around and take care of you." The boy held her hands lightly, stroking the back of her fingers gently as he looked into her eyes. "The recovery journey is not easy, I remember the words your psychologist said to me when we had that session together. I imagine your head when you see clothes getting tighter, and these comments certainly make you want to give up, I know you, baby."

He paused momentarily, watching her reactions carefully.

Y/N knew that, recovery was hard work. Not wanting to die was hard work.

"Recovery is not a race. You don't have to feel guilty about taking less or more time than you originally thought or having relapses from time to time. This is part of the process, and I want you to understand this. You are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen in my entire life. When I look at the most beautiful things, I remember you. In the pink tulips of the flower shop across the street, in the Cassiopeia constellation, in the bees that fly in our garden and in the greenest tree I have ever seen." Y/N let out a tearful laugh when she heard him mention the tree, knowing his immense love for nature. "Because you're pretty like them."

"I-I'm sorry." The girl whispered, sniffling then lowering her gaze in shame. "I... I saw the photos that Nick posted, and there were comments..." She shook her head, closing her eyes tightly.

"Oh baby." He leaned slightly over Y/N, sealing his lips over her warm forehead. "If you want to apologize, let me do it. If you went through this now, it was because of me."

"No, Matt. It was never and will never be your fault." Y/N shook her head, wiping her eyes momentarily with the sleeve of her - his - hoodie, sniffling slightly before taking one of Matt's hands, intertwining their fingers. "You don't control people, much less through the internet. They will always talk a lot because they are behind a screen that protects them, but that will never be your fault. I would rather go through this a thousand times and have you with me than never have you again."

"I understand." He paused momentarily. "Please, don't let it get to that point again while you're alone. If you see something that upsets you or makes you feel bad, turn it off instantly and call me. I want to be there to help you. I want to be there for you." The brunette asked, staring at her eyes.

Y/N sighed, nodding her head and leaning slightly closer to him, resting her forehead on Matt's shoulder, exhaling the softening scent and perfume that exuded from the fabric of the hoddie on his body.

Her eyes burned from the tears she shed, closing them tightly to prevent more from falling, her heart still feeling sore from everything.

"If you want, we can contact that psychologist again, the one who helped you throughout the process at the hospital." Matt lowered his head, bringing his face closer to the back of Y/N's head, pressing his lips against his girl's hair, closing his eyes as he felt the warmth of her body close to his. "I want to attend some sessions just like we did last time, so I understand how I can help you this time."

Y/N felt her heart warm instantly, her free hand snaking to Matt's thigh closest to her, stroking the covered skin lightly.

"Okay."

Matt loved Y/N more than he loved himself, and he would make sure that she understood that she wasn't alone anymore.

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