#and i kinda didn’t want to do that this year. i DID want to do something

[rizzanon]

Babysitter

a damian wayne and batsis! reader oneshot ft. jon kent | m.list

Summary: your brother forces you to take him and his bestfriend along with you to wherever you’re going

You had a plan. A flawless, well-thought-out, foolproof plan.

Step one: Move quietly.

Step two: Avoid creaky floorboards.

Step three: Do not alert Damian Wayne, resident bloodhound.

You had your hand on the doorknob, your shoes were on.

You had one foot out the door. No one in sight. Freedom just within reach—

“Going somewhere?”

Your whole body froze.

Goddamnit it.

You knew that voice.

You closed your eyes, inhaled sharply through your nose, and prayed to whatever higher power was listening that maybe—just maybe—if you ignored him, he’d disappear.

No such luck.

A second voice, softer but just as damning, followed.

“Uh, I told him we should just let you go, but…”

You sighed. Of course.

With a slow turn, you met the unimpressed stare of Damian Wayne, standing in the dim hallway like the world’s smallest, most judgmental security system. His arms were crossed, his expression far too smug for someone who had no business being awake right now. And right beside him, slightly hunched and looking far too apologetic, was Jon Kent.

You stared at them. They stared back.

Finally, you spoke.

“I knew I should’ve left through the window.”

Jon winced. “Sorry. Again, I did say we should just let you go—”

“But he didn’t,” you deadpanned, shooting a look at Damian.

Damian tilted his head, unbothered. “Because you’re sneaking out.”

You scoffed. “I am not sneaking out—”

“You’re leaving without me. That’s the same thing.”

“It is not—”

“Semantics.”

You groaned louder. “Oh my God, I hate you.”

“Likewise,” Damian said flatly.

Jon, still watching this exchange like a confused referee, hesitantly raised a hand. “I feel like I should stop this.

At the exact same time, without missing a beat, you and Damian both turned to him and snapped—

“You stay out of this.”

Jon immediately took a step back, hands up in surrender. “Ah. Alright.”

You dragged a hand down your face, inhaling slowly before fixing your glare on Damian again.

“So,” you said, voice strained, “what do you want, Damian?”

Damian ignored your question. “Where are you going?”

You deadpanned. “Out.”

“Out where?”

“It’s none of your business.”

Wrong answer.

“Tt. Incorrect. It is my business, because you’re taking us with you.”

You blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You heard me.”

“No, yeah, I heard you. I just don’t think I should have.”

Jon stepped in, looking a little apologetic. “Sorry, he kinda roped me into this,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

You gave him a flat look before turning back to Damian. “And why, exactly, would I do that?”

“To accompany you.”

“Why?”

“You require supervision.”

You stared.

“…I require— Damian, I’m older than you.”

“By an unfortunate number of years, yes.”

You inhaled sharply, clenching your fists. “I don’t need supervision, you little gremlin.”

Jon cleared his throat. “To be fair, I think he means he needs supervision.”

You stared. “You require— Damian, you’re forcing me to babysit you?”

“Tt. Babysit is a strong word.”

“That’s literally what’s happening.”

“I prefer guardian escort.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Yet here we are.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, inhaling deeply before muttering, “Where’s Alfred?”

“Out.”

“Dick?”

“Busy.”

“Tim?”

“Comatose, most likely.”

“Cass?”

“Training.”

“Jason?”

“Wouldn’t care.”

Your eye twitched. “And Dad?”

Damian raised an unimpressed brow.

“…Right,” you muttered.

Jon shot you another apologetic smile. “So, uh… that just leaves you?”

You let your head fall back with a long, suffering groan. “You are not going out with me.”

“And you’re supposed to be grounded.”

“That’s why I’m sneaking out, dipshit.”

There was a brief silence.

Damian let out a long, dramatic sigh, like you were the most exhausting person alive. “You continue to delude yourself if you think you’ll be able to succeed in sneaking out.”

“I hate you.”

Jon cleared his throat. “Um—”

Your expression softened immediately as you turned to him. “Not you, Jon. You’re fine. You’re good. Damian’s the problem.”

Jon blinked. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a tiny, bashful smile, cheeks just a little pink.

“Oh. Uh. Thanks?”

Damian, meanwhile, squinted. “What the hell?”

You ignored him, turning back to Jon. “See? This is how you behave, Damian. Maybe take notes.”

Damian’s scowl deepened. “I am nice.”

You snorted. “To who?”

“To you.” Damian snapped, like it was obvious.

Jon let out a tiny, poorly suppressed laugh.

You shot him a look. “Jon. Don’t encourage him.”

“Sorry,” Jon said, not looking sorry at all.

Damian scoffed. “So where are you even going?”

“Out.”

“Not without us.”

You stared. “No. Absolutely not.”

Damian just blinked.

Jon shuffled a little, fidgeting with the hem of his sweater. “I mean… if you don’t want us to come, that’s okay, I guess…”

And there it was.

The puppy-dog eyes.

You winced.

Damn it.

Jon Kent had mastered the art of looking genuinely dejected, and it was so unfair.

You hesitated. Pressed your lips together. “…It’s not that I don’t want you to come, it’s just—”

“Great,” Damian interrupted. “Then let’s go.”

You groaned. “That’s not what I meant—”

“You’re not exactly convincing me otherwise.”

“I will fight you.”

“I will win.”

Jon coughed. “This feels counterproductive.”

You shot him a betrayed look. “Jon. I thought we were friends.”

Jon rubbed the back of his neck. “I do want to go, though…”

Your eye twitched. You knew he was being genuine. But damn, he was dangerously good at making you feel so mean. You sighed heavily, staring at the ceiling like it held all the answers.

“I hate being the responsible one.”

Damian smirked. “Then be irresponsible and take us with you.”

You snapped your head back down to glare at him. “That’s not how this works, moron.”

Jon stifled a laugh.

Damian just tilted his head, completely unfazed. “Yet here we are.”

You clenched your jaw. Closed your eyes. Took a very deep breath.

Then, begrudgingly—

“Fine.”

Jon brightened. “Really?”

You shot him a look. “Not like I have a choice, apparently.”

Damian’s smirk widened, victorious.

“But there are rules.”

You pushed the door open, already regretting everything. “One: No causing trouble. Two: No running off. Three—” You turned sharply to glare at Damian. “No murder.”

Jon blinked. “That has to be a rule?”

You looked at him, dead serious. “You’d be surprised.”

Damian scoffed. “You act as if I lack self-control.”

“You literally tried to stab a man at the grocery store last week.”

“He cut in line.”

“You pulled out a knife, Damian.”

“And?”

Jon looked as if he was used to this.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “You are literally going to be the death of me.”

“Unlikely,” Damian deadpanned.

Jon patted your arm sympathetically. “It’s okay. Breathe.”

“I don’t want to breathe.”

“Understandable, but necessary.”

Damian scoffed. “Are you done yet?”

“Oh, I’m done,” you muttered, pushing open the door. “So done.”

And with that, you stepped outside, the two boys following close behind.

This was going to be a long day.

The night air was crisp, Gotham’s usual symphony of distant sirens, honking cars, and murmured conversations blending into the background as you walked down the quiet streets. The dim glow of streetlights cast long shadows across the sidewalk, but your focus was on the two boys trailing beside you.

Jon was practically buzzing with excitement, barely able to keep himself from skipping as he shot off rapid-fire questions.

“So, what were you going to do?”

You hummed. “What do you think I was gonna do?”

Jon tilted his head. “Go fight bad guys?”

You chuckled. “Nope.”

“Scout for intel?”

“Nope.”

“Secret mission?”

“Jon,” you laughed, ruffling his hair. “Hold your horses, kid. We’re doing nothing of that sort. Not when I’m around.”

Jon pouted but grinned anyway, adjusting the sleeves of his shirt. “Well, then what are we doing?”

Before you could answer, you caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of your eye.

Damian.

The boy had taken two steps to the side, eyes locked on the nearest alleyway, looking entirely too ready to vanish into the night.

“Oh, hell no.”

You reached out, snagging the back of his hoodie and pulling him to a halt.

“That goes for you too, mister,” you said, voice firm.

Damian let out an audible groan. “Tt.”

Jon blinked, confused. “Uh—what exactly was he about to do?”

“Disappear into the shadows”

Jon turned to Damian, frowning. “Dude.”

Damian merely sniffed, looking vaguely offended at the idea that he of all people needed babysitting. “I was merely about to scout the area for any dangers.”

You gave him a flat look. “We’re on a sidewalk, Damian.”

“And?”

You exhaled sharply. “You are not ditching me.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You were.”

“Tt. You have no proof.”

“I have a brain.”

Jon held up a finger. “Technically, that’s not proof—”

You turned to him, exasperated. “Jon.”

“Right, right, sorry.”

Damian crossed his arms, unimpressed. “So, what are we doing?”

You just smiled.

Luxurious. That was the only word for the place you were in.

Soft, ambient lighting filled the space, casting everything in a warm, golden glow. The gentle sound of water trickling from an ornamental fountain mixed with the low, soothing hum of instrumental music playing from hidden speakers. A faint scent of lavender, eucalyptus, and something faintly citrusy hung in the air, lulling your body into relaxation almost instantly.

You let out a slow sigh, sinking further into the plush lounge chair as the nail technician expertly shaped your nails. Across from you, Jon was already wrapped up in a fluffy white robe, a cooling face mask spread across his skin, and a woman massaging his shoulders. He looked blissful.

Damian, on the other hand, was sitting stiffly in a massage chair, arms crossed, looking like he was being subjected to cruel and unusual punishment. His expression was set into a deep scowl, but you didn’t miss the way his shoulders had started to relax under the therapist’s touch—albeit reluctantly.

You smirked, wiggling your fingers as the technician moved on to buffing your nails. “Well?”

“Tt.”

Damian’s eyes were shut as if that alone could block out his misery. “You dragged us to a spa.”

You grinned. “I treated you to a spa.”

Damian let out another Tt.

You turned to him, amused. “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you’re not enjoying this.”

Damian scowled. “I don’t see the point.”

“The point,” you drawled, stretching your legs, “is relaxation.”

“I don’t need relaxation.”

“You literally live with Bruce Wayne. You need it the most.”

Jon let out a snort of laughter.

Damian shot him a glare. “Shut up, Kent.”

Jon just grinned wider, looking far too content. “Nope.”

You chuckled, letting your head fall back against the chair. “Face it, Damian. You like it here.”

“I hate this.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I loathe you.”

You didn’t miss the way his shoulders had slowly started to loosen.

Or the way his scowl wasn’t as deep as before.

“You love me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

Jon let out a happy sigh, sinking deeper into his chair. “I knew you had a good plan.”

You shot him finger guns. “Always do.”

Jon chuckled, then suddenly let out a little noise of contentment as the massage therapist pressed into his shoulders just right. He melted into the chair, the sheer bliss evident on his face.

“Aww,” you cooed, reaching over to gently pat his head. “Look at you, kid. Living the life.”

Jon made a happy little noise in response, fully leaning into the massage.

Damian scowled. “Are you coddling him?”

“Yes,” you said immediately.

Damian scoffed. “Ridiculous.”

You smirked. “Oh, I’m sorry, would you like to be coddled?”

Damian’s entire face twisted into disgust. “Absolutely not.”

You laughed, nudging Jon. “See? He’s jealous.”

Jon barely opened one eye, too relaxed to care. “Yep.”

Damian turned his glare to him now. “Shut up, Kent.”

Jon just smiled. “Just saying the truth, Damian.”

“You wish.”

You stifled a laugh, watching Damian attempt to shrink further into his chair, clearly regretting ever coming along. You were definitely going to remind him of this later.

The spa had been a fantastic idea—well, for you and Jon, at least.

Damian? Not so much.

At first, he acted as if he were enduring actual torture. When they tried to give him a robe, he scowled as if they’d offered him poison. When they led him to the massage chair, he sat down stiffly, arms crossed, eyes darting around as though expecting an assassination attempt. The moment the massage therapist placed their hands on his shoulders, his entire body locked up.

“This is unnecessary,” Damian muttered as you and Jon stifled your laughter.

“Oh, absolutely,” you said, leaning back as a technician buffed your nails. “Completely unnecessary. That’s why you’re staying right there and relaxing.”

“I am always relaxed.”

You and Jon shared a look.

Jon, his face already covered in a cooling mask, turned toward Damian. “Dude, your entire body is clenched like a steel beam.”

“Tt. I am merely prepared.”

“Prepared for what? A surprise attack by the scented candles?” you teased.

Damian glared at you, but then the massage therapist hit a particular spot on his back, and you swore you saw his soul briefly leave his body. His lips parted slightly, eyes fluttering for a split second before he forcibly locked himself down again, pretending nothing had happened.

“Oh my god,” you grinned. “You liked that.”

Damian turned his head away, nose upturned. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

But he did shift ever so slightly to let the massage therapist work deeper into his back. You and Jon exchanged victorious smirks but wisely didn’t comment further.

Well—except for Jon’s quiet, “Told you you’d like it.”

Damian kicked him under the table.

After a tedious amount of time, Damian had finally let himself relax. Not entirely—he was still Damian, after all—but enough that he no longer looked like he wanted to eviscerate someone.

Jon, meanwhile, had been living the dream since the moment you arrived. You’d made sure to book an extensive package for him, complete with a massage, a face mask, a manicure, and even a foot scrub.

The problem?

Jon’s Kryptonian genes.

The poor spa technicians had no idea what they had signed up for.

It started when they tried using a gua sha stone on his face.

The second they dragged the tool across his cheek, there was a horrifying screech—the sound of something hard scraping against something impenetrable.

The esthetician froze, blinking at the gua sha in her hand.

Jon winced. “Uh…”

Then she tried again. More forcefully.

SCCCRRREEEEEEE—

Damian cringed as the sound echoed through the room, making your ears ring. “That is unbearable.”

“I—I don’t think it’s supposed to sound like that,” Jon said weakly.

The esthetician, determined, switched to a jade roller.

The exact same thing happened.

“Okay,” the woman murmured, frowning. “We’ll, uh, circle back to that.”

Then came the body scrub.

Which was supposed to be exfoliating.

Except the scrub was doing nothing.

Jon, ever the polite one, just smiled sheepishly as the technician literally pushed down with all her strength, trying to get some kind of reaction.

“…You don’t feel anything?” she asked, breathless.

“Uh.” Jon paused. “I mean. It’s kinda nice?”

Damian looked deeply entertained. “This is absurd.”

You nudged him. “You’re absurd.”

“Tt.”

Then came the nail buffing.

Oh, the nail buffing.

The technician tasked with filing Jon’s nails was genuinely putting her whole body into it. You could see her arm muscles flexing as she went back and forth, desperately trying to shape his nails with an emery board that had already worn down to nothing.

At one point, she wiped her forehead. “Are you sure you’re not wearing, like… armor?”

Jon laughed nervously. “Nope, this is, uh, all-natural.”

The woman blinked. Then, deciding to just accept that reality was being weird today, simply nodded.

“Alright,” she said. “We’ll… figure something out.”

Jon beamed. “Thanks!”

You patted his head. “Good job, buddy.”

Jon grinned. “I think this is nice.”

And truly, it was. You were finally getting a break, Damian had sort of warmed up to the experience, and Jon was having the time of his life.

It was peaceful.

It was relaxing.

It was exactly what you needed.

So, of course, something had to go wrong.

The peace was shattered by the sound of screaming outside.

Your head snapped toward the spa entrance just in time to see a group of civilians running past in a panic. Then—explosions.

And the unmistakable whir of something mechanical.

You bolted upright.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

Jon was already standing, ripping the robe off and revealing his Superboy costume underneath.

Damian, meanwhile, pulled a full Batman move by seemingly materializing his utility belt and weapons out of nowhere.

Before you could even say anything, the two boys were gone—leaping straight out the spa’s open balcony.

You turned to the wide-eyed spa staff, letting out a long sigh.

“Boys being boys, am I right?” You forced a smile, desperately trying to cover up the awkwardness of the situation. “They’re die-hard fans for action. Can’t help themselves.”

For a brief moment, the room was silent as the estheticians exchanged confused glances.

Then, in the most awkward and abrupt way possible, you scrambled to grab your purse, fumbling around as you threw an absolutely ridiculous sum of cash onto the counter—enough to more than cover the treatments, plus a hefty tip for the staff that definitely deserved more than a little credit for surviving this spa chaos.

The technicians just stared at the money, stunned into silence.

You didn’t stick around for questions.

You bolted after the two boys—still wrapped in your robe, your hair tied up in a towel, and your face mask half-finished.

You were praying—praying—that the day would somehow not end up on the news—though you knew full well that was already a lost cause. But hey, at least you were going to have one heck of a story to tell.

You finally made it to the street corner, and saw Amazo-tech robots rampaging through the streets, blasting apart cars and sending civilians running. Jon was in the air, flying between them, lasers shooting from his eyes as he took them down one by one. Damian was on the ground, expertly maneuvering around, slicing through the robots’ weak points.

You were impressed.

But you were also trying not to yell at the two boys.

Because Damian was still wearing his spa robe over his Robin suit.

And Jon still had his facial mask on.

“Just once,” you muttered to yourself, laughing despite the absurdity. “Just once, I want a normal day out.”

But then again, in Gotham, that was never going to happen.

The Batcave had never felt so… tense. The lights flickered above, casting shadows that seemed to mirror the dark expressions of the adults standing before you. You, Damian, and Jon stood side by side, feeling the weight of their scrutiny.

Bruce was standing at the forefront, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his eyes narrow and calculating. Alfred, behind him, looked as if he were about to take away all your privileges for the rest of your lives. Clark had one hand over his face, clearly trying to stifle an impending headache, while Lois had her fingers pressed to the bridge of her nose, fighting the urge to explode in frustration.

The silence stretched on, suffocating. Then, finally, Bruce spoke, his voice quiet but stern.

“So,” he said, voice level. “Would you care to explain yourselves?”

Before you could even open your mouth—

“It was her idea,” Damian said immediately, pointing at you.

Your jaw dropped. “Excuse me—”

He met your glare with a simple, “You were the adult in charge.”

You gaped at him. “Oh, so now I’m the adult?! When I was paying for the spa day, you were more than happy to—”

“Tt.”

“Don’t you ‘Tt’ me, you little shit..!”.”

Bruce let out a long, suffering sigh.

Jon cleared his throat. “It all worked out, though. We saved the day, didn’t we?”

The adults all exchanged a look, their faces unreadable for a moment. Lois then shakes her head and pulled out her phone, tapping something before showing the screen.

It was a photo.

A civilian had snapped a very clear picture of the battle—showing Robin, still in his spa robe, kicking an Amazo-robot in the face while Superboy, face still covered in a facial mask, was mid-air punching another.

It was already trending.

Jon looked at it.

Then, sheepishly, he shrugged.

“…It was nice...?”

Clark just let out a hearty chuckle.

“Well, it’s a memorable way to save Gotham. At least you three enjoyed yourselves.” he said, earning a small chuckle from Lois.

Bruce closed his eyes, clearly questioning his life choices. He rubbed his temples as Lois and Clark just share a look. “….We will discuss this later. Go and get yourselves cleaned up.”

It’s safe to say that your grounding just got a whole lot longer.

i had this as a scene to write for undoing fate but it didn’t quite fit into it as much as i’d like it to so it became a oneshot outside of it instead (completely unrelated to undoing fate but you can imagine it happening between chapter 7-9 when they’re posted lol) but hope you guys enjoyed this 🫶

taglist (open): @k1arar3 @kingshitonly @rainnyydaysworld @ceridwyn3 @darkfaethedestroyer @blueiones @strwberryglass @lithiumval @thephantomdanny @eli-mayhaveatencats @rockyeatrock @dreaming-of-the-reality @shirp-collector-of-fixations @gneepgnorpsneepsnorp @skerbablo @dind1n @gwyneveire @yukixies @kristalag @greantii | ask to be added <3

[slut4thebroken]

Bunny

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Emmett x reader

Summary | You like riding him a lot 🐇

Warnings | Smut, large age gap, daddy kink, pet names, praise, size kink, riding, crying, creampie, did I mention age gap lol, overstim, aftercare kinda, established relationship.

Words | 1.4 k

Notes | Guys I actually love the dialogue in this so much lol

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Kinktober | day 23: riding

Emmett’s large hands held onto your hips tightly, no doubt leaving bruises. You bounced wildly on his lap, mostly being assisted with his hands, but still doing some of the work by yourself. 

You loved fucking him like this. If you looked down, you could see his thick cock bulging your stomach each time you sank down on it. You liked being able to ride him as fast and eager as you wanted— when he actually allowed you to control the pace. 

But you also liked how much this position really accentuated the size difference between you and Emmett. He was tall and strong, and you just looked so tiny sitting on his lap. Honestly you looked tiny next to him in most positions, but for some reason, this was one of your favorites. 

You liked how he’d snake his hands around to roughly squeeze and grope your ass, helping guide your movements and occasionally spanking you. You liked the way your breasts would bounce along with you— Sometimes he’d pull your torso down and suck on your nipples or kiss you, letting you continue eagerly riding him. 

However, you especially liked when he took control— when he lifted you up and down on his cock, not letting you control the speed at all as he just used you like a sex doll. It took practically no effort for him guide you up and down, fuck you deep. Usually that turned into him holding you still and snapping his hips up into you while you cried out, barely able to take the intensity. 

You liked when he’d force you to sit all the way down on his cock, forcing it in deep until you could literally feel him in your guts. Sometimes he’d hold you there and rub your belly, feeling how distended you were from his cock. 

“See how deep I am, baby? You take it so fucking good.” He moaned, making you whine impatiently, trying not to squirm too much so you wouldn’t get punished for being ‘disobedient.’ 

“Such a good little girl… Always trying to please your old man, huh?” He said proudly. His hands snaked up from your belly to grope your tits, completely engulfing them with how big his hands were. You mewled and rocked your hips a little, wanting to just continue riding him already. He let out a low groan and slapped your tits a few times, not enough to hurt you, but enough to make you jolt and whimper at the feeling. 

“Show me how much you want it, doll.” He smirked. When you finally got his permission, you immediately started bouncing on his cock. Your mouth dropped open in a silent moan and your brows scrunched together at the intense feeling, but you didn’t stop— you didn’t even slow down. “That’s it… Bounce on my fucking cock, bunny. Ride it good.” He chuckled at your eagerness, making you whine, but increase your efforts regardless. 

“S-So big…” You choked out through a whimper, mewling desperately. You started panting and his hands roamed all over your body, squeezing and groping greedily. 

“That’s right, baby… But that little cunnie can take it, huh?” You nodded dumbly and he chuckled again. 

You still remembered the first time you took his cock. It was almost a year ago now and Emmett had planned a very special day for you, full of romantic activities before finally taking you home. You were so eager by that point— desperate to take your first ever cock… and he was more than willing to give it to you. 

He ate you out and worked you open on his thick fingers until you came, then he mounted you and lined up. You were so scared, but Emmett kissed you and assured you it would only hurt for a bit. 

When he finally pushed in, you had cried and whimpered, barely able to take it. But he wasn’t deterred. He kept forcing his thick cock inside you and popped your cherry, whispering sweet nothings in your ear while you cried. 

“Shh, babygirl… You can take it.” He murmured, kissing you to muffle your sobs and pleas as he started thrusting slowly. Despite the pain, knowing you were giving him so much pleasure made it all worth it… Afterwards, Emmett took a bath with you, made you some food, then cuddled with you the whole night. You were sore in the morning, but he ate you out again to make up for it. 

You’ve gotten better at taking him since that day, but you still struggled quite a bit. However, you’d grown to love how it felt being split open on his thick cock, forced to take every single inch as your walls stretched obscenely wide to accommodate him. It was satisfying in a way— knowing you were pushing yourself to your limits, but successfully pleasing him in the end. Feeling him come deep inside you was a reward like no other. 

“Keep bouncing, bunny. Ride it nice and good…” He gruffed, finally gripping your hips, deciding you needed help after you started getting lost in thought. He bounced you faster, barely even giving you a chance to follow his order on your own. You cried out at the sudden change in pace and intensity, grabbing onto his forearms to steady yourself. 

“Wanna come...” You mewled, whining at the warm feeling of arousal pooling in your belly. 

“Yeah? You wanna come on daddy’s big cock?” He cooed mockingly, but you still let out a strangled moan at the name he used. 

“Please, daddy.” You nodded desperately, still trying to bounce on your own even though he was controlling almost all of your movements now. 

“Go ahead, babydoll.” You could’ve cried when he actually gave you permission and didn’t draw it out more to tease you, like he normally did. 

“Thank you!” You gasped out. Emmett held you in place above him, then started rapidly bucking up into you, fucking you hard and fast, sending you barreling toward your orgasm. You reached a hand down to rub your clit, struggling to hold it steady with how hard his thrusts were jolting your body. 

You finally fell over the edge with a loud moan, hearing him grunt at how tight your pussy clamped down his cock as you came. “Good girl…” He groaned, making you whine. 

You had no choice but to ride it out fully, and when the pleasure finally faded, you still had no choice but to take it. Emmett was growling and grunting, sounding almost feral as he rapidly snapped his hips up, chasing his own orgasm. Tears brimmed in your eyes from the overstimulation and you whimpered pathetically, trying to pull his hands off his hips so you could escape the painful pleasure, but he was far too strong. 

“Quit it.” He snarled, getting angry and frustrated by your attempts to resist. “You can fucking take it.” You shook your head to protest… which was clearly not the right response based on the way his eyes darkened before he started fucking you harder. “Take it, you little brat.” He growled, warning you. 

“Please come, daddy!” You whined, barely able to get the words out through your hiccuping sobs. 

Emmett let out a guttural, animalistic sound at your plea, only getting more worked up. Eventually though, he finally slammed you down on his lap, impaling your tender pussy on his cock. His balls twitched with each rope of come that shot out of his cock, painting the walls of your cunt white with his sticky seed. 

“That’s it, doll… Take all of daddy’s special cream deep in that greedy little hole.” He groaned, riding out his orgasm. His hips were still bucking up, instinctively trying to bury his cock even deeper, and his fingers were digging into the flesh of your hips painfully. “What do you say?”

“Thank you, daddy.” You whimpered, finally able to relax a little now that the painful stimulation had ceased. 

“Good girl. Give me a kiss, baby.” You obeyed, whimpering when his cock shifted inside you as you leaned down to kiss him, making him groan. “Such a good girl…” He murmured against your lips, and you whined quietly again in response. “Let’s get you cleaned up, doll.” He finally pulled back, then gently lifted you off his cock, moaning at the way his seed gushed out of your gaping, swollen pussy. Then he carefully picked you up in his arms and carried you to the bathroom to run a bath for you. 

[urperfectcinnamonroll07]

Valentines

requested?: no pairing(s): Simon 'Ghost' Riley x afab!reader genre: fluff, smut warning(s): unprotected sex (not promoting this, wrap it please), soft sex, reader being a hopeless romantic, ghost not knowing what to do whatsoever on valentines, kinda oc reader (only for favourite animal, if you dont like it you can change it), oral (f recieving), face sitting, cowgirl, multiple orgasms, not proofread (and is so fucking rushed, im sorry) summary: 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘰𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦... word count: 1.9k a/n: happy valentines everyone! spending it alone yet again, but its okay because we have a whole ass ghost fic with soft sex and valentines. hope everyone has a lovely day wherever you are, even the single people and the people with partners (i am not the latter). i also promise that i am almost done the alex volkov and happy go lucky reader fic, so it should be out over the weekend, i js wanted to give you a valentines special as i did last year (my first ever fic i think), either way, it is almost done! remember to eat and drink something, love yas, mwah! (honestly, i apologise in advance because this was so rushed so ya'll could have a valentines special out on valentines, so i am so sorry ya'll if this is shit) -Cilla

simon never got the point of valentines. it was just people in love celebrating their love and showing it through overly expensive flowers and chocolate, what was the point when people showed they loved each other every day? maybe it was the way he was brought up, or maybe it was the fact he had just never found the right person to celebrate with, or maybe he wasn’t built that way.

well, that’s what he thought, until you. you made your way into his life, all flowery and bubbly, but most of all, ever-loving. you loved almost everything. animals, nature, sweet treats. but most importantly, you loved him.

honestly, you hadn’t been together for long. you had started dating a few days after valentines the year before when johnny had managed to get him a blind date with someone who he thought simon would like. your date was a few months before valentines, but you didn’t decide you had liked each other until a few days after valentines.

simon didn’t not like you, he just thought you were too good for him and a girl like you should date someone who wasn’t like him, someone who hadn’t seen the harsh terrors of the world and someone who wouldn’t wake up from night terrors almost every night. but you didn’t care about all that and fought for him, going on date after date until the two of you eventually became romantic partners.

so, you had both never celebrated valentines together and simon honestly didn’t know what you wanted. he knew your favourite animal was an otter, so he got you an otter teddy to add to your collection, but other than that, he didn’t know. you had insisted you didn’t want anything or much, but he wanted to spoil you the way you deserved.

he had been on deployment for a few months prior to valentines, and he was coming back the day before. that was how he had managed to get you a teddy. he was sure you would love it. as soon as he got home, he hid it somewhere he knew you wouldn’t find it (up a height). and spent the day with you (and inside of you), catching up with what he missed while he was gone.

you both went to bed together later that night after watching a sappy romance movie which simon had complained the whole time (you were sure he truly loved it) before you went off to bed and he was inside of you once again. once you had fallen asleep that night, he had managed to book you both a table at your favourite restaurant before letting you curl against him and went to sleep as well.

he woke up first the following morning, immediately untangling himself from you to go and retrieve the things he had gotten you. it wasn’t much, but it was quite expensive, which he knew you would yell at him for, but he didn’t care. he wanted to spoil his girl.

“happy valentines, lovie” he smiled when you woke up. you sat up immediately, wiping the sleep from your eyes and smiling. he hugged you as you hugged him back.

when you both pulled away, he pulled the otter teddy from behind his back, your eyes went wide and your face broke out into an even wider smile.

“oh my god, si, thank you so much, i love him!” you took him from him softly and held him up to your chest which was still bare from the night before. “i think i’m gonna name him olly”

simon smiled at you. it was something he had always admired about you, how you always managed to stay positive even when the world had turned to shit. simon was stiff as you hugged him again. you could tell it was somewhat awkward for him as he had never celebrated valentines before, so he didn’t really know what to do.

he also pulled out a small ring, and you got him a new watch as well as a chain with the both of your initials on.

you were both in bed afterwards, sharing soft yet very intimate kisses. his hands were all over you while yours were resting on his shoulders.

they were soft and small until the kisses started to get more deep and passionate. you shifted so you were straddling his thighs. you were both still naked from the previous night, so you didn’t have to do much. you whimpered softly into his mouth as you grinded down on him.

you could feel him beginning to harden beneath you as you continued to grind down on him, your slick beginning to coat his thighs. he pushes you away.

“I want you to sit on my face” he says bluntly, his eyes lidded and full of lust. you bite your lip softly.

you were insecure enough to not want to crush him, but then again you had also done it before, so you knew it wouldn’t be that bad. you moved up the bed until you were straddling his face.

he grabbed your thighs and pulled you all the way down. his mouth latched to your clit, sucking and licking as he licked a stripe up your folds, shoving his tongue inside of your hole. you moaned and whimpered softly as he did so, gripping onto his hair as he did so.

he licked and slurped you for all you’re worth, making you moan and whimper. you ground down against his face, wanting as much friction as he could give you. you threw your head back as he did so. simon held your thighs down against his face so you wouldn’t move away, sensing you were getting close.

“oh god, si- m’ gonna come” you moan out, continuing to grind against his face as he kept slurping your cunt up as though it was his last meal, eventually adding a couple fingers and curling them inside of you, making you moan harder and louder. yeah, you were definitely going to come now.

“mhm” he grunts against your pussy, sending vibrations that made you jolt. “come for me then” he mumbles against your cunt, the vibrations were making you go absolutely feral, making you feel more sensitive by the second.

it only took a few more sucks and curls inside of you before your juices were splattered all over his face, simon wasn’t complaining as he just slurped everything up as though his life depended on it. he continued to ride you out what felt like your longest-lasting orgasm ever.

he moved you down his body so you were back sitting on his lap, he wiped your juices from his chin, a shit-eating grin on his face as he did so. you watched too intently as he did so. you clenched around nothing, your ovaries feeling like they were about to explode with how horny you felt at that moment in time.

he smirks and props himself up on his elbows.

“gonna need you to ride me now, lovie” he says, it sounded condescending, and from your previous position over his face, your thighs wouldn’t last long before they gave out. he must be a mind reader at this point, because he then added “oh don’t worry, lovie, i’ll help you”

it was almost subconscious in the way his hands moved to your hips to lift you onto his hardened cock. the tip was red and already leaking pre-cum. he was always massive, no matter how many times the two of you had sex, you would always need a few seconds to adjust to his size. as he slowly lowered you onto him, you had to bite your tongue to stop you making a guttural sound.

it took you a few seconds to adjust to his size, bearing in mind you had last had sex less than 24 hours ago, and began moving your hips slightly. it started off with just rolling your hips on hip, rolling them in soft circles to get yourself going at first, but then you began to bounce softly.

simon’s hands stayed on your hips the whole time, helping you bounce on his cock. simon was never usually a vocal person in bed, but he always loved when you rode him with him helping you, so that’s the only point in which he would become vocal. he was letting out the occasional grunt and groan as he bounced you.

it was beginning to be him doing all the work, you doing nothing and letting him lift and slam your hips back down on hip. his pelvis was getting soaked with your juices as your cunt squelched with his large cock. it was full trying to accommodate his full length.

you were beginning to get tired and simon knew this as you were putting less and less effort into bouncing on his cock. he began to start moving his hips upwards to meet yours when they were going down, making him hit a whole new place inside of you, making you yelp at first.

you then started to moan louder as his length was hitting that sweet spot inside of you over and over, making your cunt squelch louder as well as your moans that reciprocated the volume of your pussy.

he had a smirk on his face the entire time, but his smirk got wider when he decided to reach a hand down to play with your puffy and overstimulated clit, making you jolt and whimper. you were getting closer and closer with each passing moment and you knew at some point you were going to come, you could feel it and simon could feel his orgasm coming on.

he continued to meet your downward thrusts with his upwards ones, making you make sounds you didn’t know you could ever make.

the rubbing on your clit and simon’s cock repeatedly hitting that oh-so sweet spot inside of you was too much. the knot was forming in your stomach and it was tightening fast.

“it’s okay lovie, let go, come for me” simon says, it sounds strained and you could tell he was close too by the way he looked down at where the two of you met then threw his head back. “fuck, you’re so gorgeous” he says with his head back before looking at you with his hooded eyes.

that was all it took for you to come completely undone for him. letting your hips come down one more time before throwing your head back and clamping so hard down on him that he could have sworn you resembled a vice, but he didn’t mind because that was what made him come too, spilling his white-hot cum all over your velvety walls.

you came down from your highs not long later, panting and reaching for each other’s embrace.

simon picked you up with him still inside of you and only pulled out when you reached the bathroom. he sat you down on the toilet, leaving for you to for you to do your business then helping you wash your hands before running a bath for the both of you.

“i got us a table at that place you like” he says softly as he helps you get into the bath first before climbing in behind you. you smiled and thanked him, saying he was perfect. you leaned your head back against him, on his chest.

maybe simon didn’t mind the overly expensive flowers and chocolate if it meant he got to see the love of his life happy.

[playboysturns]

I don't know if this is a request or if it's just me wanting to share this extremely specific idea, but imagine Chris and the reader dating in secret for a LONG time and the news comes out on the internet, the reader starts getting hate and in every video there is someone commenting something like "Why did he choose to be with her?" and she simply responds to the comment with a video of her and Chris to the sound of "Pepsi" by Lana Del Rey (I don't know, this sounds really funny in my head)

drabble #1 'my 🐱 tastes like pepsi cola'

summary : Chris and reader finally make their relationship public to their fans on valentines day.

You met the triplets when you both moved to LA at the same time. It was easy to talk cause you were all youtubers and the four of you quickly became close since you didn’t know many other people in the city.

Chris and you hooked up when he was hanging out at your house, later confessing his feelings to you which you mutually shared. The both of you decided to take it slow as neither of you had been in a relationship before.

All your friends knew, it wasn’t a secret and there had been times where they had almost slipped up saying that you were both together.

You were seen hanging out with the three of them many times but fans had chalked it up to you being good friends with them, though none of you ever directly posted each other on your tiktok or youtube.

Chris wanted to keep your relationship private from the fans and you agreed since you both had seen first hand how they reacted when the triplets were friends with women. At this point though you been dating for a little over 2 years now, and finally decided it was the right time to share it with your fans.

“Wait why am I nervous” you giggle looking once over at the tiktok Chris was about to post. it was a video using the low life audio, it started with Chris laying on the couch singing the ‘sniper sniper sniper’ bit then the camera flipped to you show you straddling him lip syncing the ‘wifey wifey wifey’ part.

“Why? you look good,” Chris grips your hips, you were still in the same position as the tiktok.

“I don’t know what to caption it,” you hand Chris his phone watching him type a caption then showing it to you.

‘my valentines for the past 2 years ❤️🪄’

“Okay good, should I post it now,” You smile, both nervous and excited.

“Babe just press post,” Chris mutters from beneath you and you do just that putting his phone on silence and placing it on the coffee table.

“Right, no going on our phones for at least an hour,” you say Chris nodding in agreement. He picks up the remote to put on a movie whilst you lay down on top of him to cuddle.

“What the fuck!”

You move your head from the tv as Nick runs up the stairs from the front door his phone in hand, quickly followed by Matt.

“What?” Chris asks, Nick rolls his eyes before showing you his screen which was the tiktok you had posted.

“Kid we were literally at the In-n-Out drive through, then Nick screamed so loud I almost shat my pants,”

“It was not that loud so chill,” Nick puts his hand up.

“Not that loud, Nick I nearly rear-ended the car in front,” Matt replies, sternly.

“What else was I meant to do?” Nick rebuttals, stalking over to where you and Chris were laying.

“Not fucking scream? Acting like we didn’t know that they were dating the whole time” Matt sits on the couch.

“I mean it’s lowkey a monumental,” you feel Chris’ voice vibrating beneath your head.

“Exactly! we could’ve had a little heads up about it? Like my mentions are going fucking insane,” Nick huffs, turning his attention back to his phone. “The comments are like, kinda crazy right now so I wouldn’t check them.”

Now you were curious, sitting up you grab your phone that was besides Chris’ on the table quickly go to the tiktok on his account.

COMMENTS

y/n and chris sturniolo dating ⌕

@ sturnluvr : ain’t no way 💀

@ babysturns: are we skipping over the fact he put 2 years?

@ chrissgf : no hate but why would he choose her out of everyone…

↳ @ y/nclips : coming from an acc w no posts!

@ chrissturngirlfriend : i’m literally sobbing wtf

@ freshchris : do they do it 🥺

@ quenlinblackwell ✓ : MY PARENTS YESSS

@ stuniolosuperfan : fuck it atp matts wife and kid jokes may be real

↳ @ mattybswife : they are 😊 revealing myself as his wife ❤️

↳ @ mattsturnsbm : @ mattybswife tell him that the kids miss him 💔

@ princessy/n : what the fuck is wrong with the comments

@ strombolitriplets : i’m crying wtf do they even talk about 😭

@ madisonbeer ✓ : i love you both 🤍

@ sturnioloclips : TWO YEARS?

@ y/nswife : THIS IS AI UNTIL Y/N POSTS ON HER ACC!!

↳ @ princessy/n : yk damn well.. 😭

@ sturniolofan1 : someone tell me this is an early april fools.

@ user18274730 : wait cause they’re actually so cute wtf

You comb through them laughing, honestly you thought the reaction would be worse. Chris on the other hand was reading the comments over your shoulder.

“Fuck. I’m sorry about them,” Chris apologises, kissing your shoulder.

“Baby it’s fine. I thought they’d be way harsher” you turn to look at him, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“But your fans are so supportive.,” Chris sighs sadly.

“They’re just going to have to grow up and get over it,” Nick says turning his phone off to watch the movie on the screen.

You were both getting ready to go to sleep.

It had been a few hours since you had posted the video, and though you were fine with the response it was clear Chris was still a little upset.

“I want to turn the comments off,” Chris says scrolling through them, you sigh taking the phone from his hand. “Or at least respond to them.”

“There’s no need to turn the comments off or respond to anything,” you take a look at them yourself, the tiktok had blown up already having a million likes.

“But there is, you’re literally the most important person in my life and they can’t even respect it,” Chris throws himself onto his bed. “They’re asking why I would choose you when you’re the one that’s out of my league.”

“Okay we’ll do this then,” you click to video reply ‘@ chrissgf : no hate but why would he choose her out of everyone…’ selecting an audio before sitting next to Chris on the bed.

“What are you doing?” he watches in confusion as you put both of you on the camera.

You smile as you start the tiktok ‘my pussy taste like pepsi cola’ blares from his phone. You lipsync the song causing Chris to smile before the audio ends.

“There now they know,” you grin, Chris taking his phone to caption it before posting.

‘She tastes better than pepsi 😛’

notes from me : ik this wasn't super specific if it was a request but it got me thinking! this is my first time writing anything in a very long time so please bare with me, im sorry if the spacing is wrong this was just a quick write for the request. thank you @oceanabyssal

Happy Valentines Day! 💋 - playboysturns

[chelseaknoo]

Valentine’s Day with Eminem

Eminem x Reader

Caution: semi-sexual content and Marshall’s baby fever <3

Note:sorry it’s a day late! And any era of Eminem you want!

For the past two years, you and Marshall had been together, and despite his usual tough-guy exterior, you knew how much he loved you. He showed it in his own way—whether it was pulling you closer in his sleep, always making sure you were safe, or spoiling you just because he felt like it.

With Valentine’s Day right around the corner, you wanted to do something special for him. Marshall wasn’t the type to get overly sentimental about holidays, but you knew he’d appreciate the thought, even if he acted like it wasn’t a big deal.

After weeks of planning, you finally settled on the perfect gifts—a luxury watch, custom jewelry designed specifically for him, and, of course, a fresh pair of sneakers. You knew he had more shoes than he could ever wear, but the man had a weakness for them, and you loved seeing his face light up when he got a new pair.

The packages sat neatly wrapped in your closet, hidden from sight. You were excited to give them to him, but Valentine’s Day wasn’t here just yet.

One evening, as you sat on the couch scrolling through your phone, Marshall strolled into the living room, his brow slightly furrowed as he looked at you suspiciously.

“You been actin’ sneaky as fuck lately,” he muttered, flopping down next to you. “What the hell you up to?”

You smirked, locking your phone. “What makes you think I’m up to something?”

He narrowed his eyes. “’Cause I know you. Every time you try to hide shit from me, you start actin’ all innocent like that. What is it? You plannin’ some kinda bullshit prank?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, Marshall. Not everything I do is about messing with you.”

“Mm-hmm,” he grumbled, still unconvinced. “I swear, if you put hot sauce in my coffee again, I’m dumpin’ your ass.”

You rolled your eyes. “That was one time, and you deserved it.”

“The fuck I do?” he shot back. “I ain’t do nothin’ to you!”

“You called me a brat all day just because I didn’t wanna watch Scarface for the hundredth time.”

Marshall scoffed. “First off, Scarface is a goddamn classic. Second, you are a brat, and third—” He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes narrowing again. “Wait, why are we talkin’ about that? Don’t change the subject. What are you hiding?”

You smirked, leaning in closer to him. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “I don’t like that.”

“You’ll live,” you teased, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before standing up.

He grabbed your wrist, pulling you back onto his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist. “Nah, see, now I really wanna know,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck.

You laughed, pushing at his chest. “You’re not gonna distract me.”

“The fuck I ain’t,” he muttered, nipping at your skin lightly.

You rolled your eyes again but couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered. He really did have a way of making you melt, but you weren’t about to give in that easily.

“Marshall,” you warned playfully.

He sighed dramatically, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Fine. Keep your little secrets. But if I find out you got me some corny-ass matching couple shit, I’m tellin’ you right now, I ain’t wearin’ it.”

You bit your lip to hold back a smile. “Not even if it’s really cool?”

“Not even if Jesus himself came down and told me to put that shit on.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

He groaned, tightening his arms around you. “Fuckin’ hate waiting.”

“Too bad,” you teased, kissing his cheek again before slipping out of his grasp.

Valentine’s Day was coming soon, but for now, you’d let him suffer in suspense.

-

You stirred awake to the faint smell of coffee and something sweet—pancakes, maybe? Your brows furrowed as you turned onto your side, reaching out, only to realize the other side of the bed was empty. That was unusual. Normally, Marshall stayed in bed as long as he could, clinging to you like a damn koala.

You rubbed your eyes and sat up slowly, your hair a mess and your body still heavy with sleep. Just as you were about to call out for him, the bedroom door pushed open, and there he was—your grumpy, foul-mouthed boyfriend, holding a tray of food in one hand and a massive bouquet of deep red roses in the other.

"Happy fuckin’ Valentine’s Day, baby," he said, a smirk tugging at his lips as he made his way over.

You blinked, still half-asleep. "Marshall…?"

"What?" He quirked a brow, setting the tray down on your lap before plopping onto the bed next to you. "Look at that, I ain't completely useless. I ain't burn the fuckin’ kitchen down or nothin’."

A slow, sleepy smile spread across your lips as you looked down at the tray. There was a plate stacked with pancakes—heart-shaped, even—alongside crispy bacon, eggs, and a cup of coffee, just how you liked it.

"You… made this?" you asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Well, no shit. You see anybody else in this house?" he scoffed. "I ain't about to let some random motherfucker come in here and cook for my girl."

You chuckled, picking up a piece of bacon. "I mean, I wouldn’t put it past you to have Paul do it."

Marshall snorted. "The fuck would I look like, callin’ Paul at six in the morning talkin’ ‘bout, ‘Yo, come make my girl some breakfast’?"

You laughed, shaking your head before glancing at the roses. "And these?"

"These are also for my girl," he said, handing you the bouquet. "Real as hell, just like you."

Your heart swelled, and you traced your fingers over the soft petals, inhaling the fresh scent. He wasn’t the biggest romantic, but when he did things like this, it meant even more.

"You really went all out," you murmured, looking up at him.

He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, well… you deserve it."

Your chest tightened at his words, and you set the roses down beside you before leaning over to kiss him. He cupped the back of your head, deepening it, his other hand slipping under the covers to squeeze your thigh.

"Mmm," you hummed against his lips before pulling back slightly. "This is really sweet, Marshall."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, trying to pull you back in. "Eat your damn food before it gets cold."

You smirked. "You just don’t wanna admit you’re a softie."

"The fuck I do," he grumbled.

"Making me breakfast, getting me flowers…" You tilted your head. "You gonna write me a poem next?"

He deadpanned. "You want me to?"

You burst out laughing. "No, no, I’d rather keep my ears intact."

He narrowed his eyes. "You a real fuckin’ comedian, huh?"

You winked, picking up your fork. "Only for you, babe."

He shook his head, muttering under his breath as he leaned back against the headboard, watching you eat.

-

After finishing your breakfast, you leaned back against the headboard, completely satisfied. “Damn, Marshall,” you said, dabbing your lips with a napkin. “That was actually really good.”

He smirked. “The fuck you mean ‘actually’? Like you expected me to fuck it up?”

You giggled, stretching before glancing over at him. “You said you wanted to take me out, right?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, running a hand through his short blonde hair. “Figured we could do somethin’ nice since it’s Valentine’s Day ‘n’ all.”

You grinned. “Aww, look at you being all romantic.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t push it.”

Laughing, you hopped out of bed and stretched again. “Alright, well, I need to get ready.”

Marshall gave you a look. “How long we talkin’? ‘Cause if it’s some two-hour bullshit—”

Before he could finish, you cut him off by playfully shoving him toward the bedroom door. “Go do something productive while I get dressed.”

“I was doin’ somethin’ productive—sittin’ here lookin’ at my beautiful ass girl,” he shot back, smirking.

You shook your head, laughing as you finally managed to push him out and shut the door. Now it was time to get ready.

Thirty Minutes Later

“Babe!”

You heard Marshall’s irritated voice from the other side of the door.

“Yo, what the fuck is takin’ so long? We goin’ out today or next Valentine’s Day?”

You smiled to yourself, carefully applying the last touch of gloss to your lips. “Be patient!”

“Patient? I been sittin’ here for thirty fuckin’ minutes! You better be comin’ out lookin’ like a goddamn supermodel or some shit.”

You smirked at your reflection. Oh, he was definitely going to eat his words.

Finally satisfied, you strutted over to the door and swung it open, stepping out dramatically.

Marshall, who had been leaning against the wall, looking down at his phone, glanced up—and instantly froze.

His blue eyes widened as they slowly traveled from your head to your toes, taking in every damn detail. You were wearing a form-fitting, deep red mini dress that hugged every curve just right. The fabric clung to your body like a second skin, accentuating your waist and hips. The plunging neckline showed off your cleavage, and the thin straps left your shoulders completely bare. The dress stopped mid-thigh, revealing your smooth legs, paired with sleek black stilettos that made them look even longer.

Your makeup was flawless—dark, sultry eyeshadow, long lashes, and your lips painted a soft glossy red to match the dress. Your hair cascaded in perfect waves, framing your face effortlessly.

You smirked. “Well? Supermodel enough for you?”

Marshall blinked, his mouth opening slightly before shutting again. He looked you up and down one more time, then dragged a hand down his face.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ.”

You giggled, stepping closer. “Is that a good ‘Jesus fuckin’ Christ’ or a bad one?”

He scoffed. “Oh, it’s good, alright. Good enough that now I don’t even wanna go nowhere.” His hands found your hips, pulling you in. “Matter fact, how ‘bout we stay our asses right here?”

You rolled your eyes, pushing at his chest. “Nope, you said we’re going out. Let’s go.”

He groaned, but reluctantly let go, stepping back. “You doin’ this shit on purpose,” he muttered, shaking his head as he grabbed his keys.

You smirked, picking up your clutch. “Maybe.”

“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath as you both walked to the car.

Once outside, Marshall opened the passenger door for you, but just as you were about to get in, he grabbed your wrist.

“Hold the fuck up.”

You turned to him, confused. “What?”

His gaze darkened. “This dress—where the fuck is the rest of it?”

You burst out laughing. “Marshall—”

“Nah, I’m serious. This shit barely covers anything,” he grumbled, eyeing the way the fabric stretched over your curves.

“You’re being dramatic,” you teased, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“Dramatic?” he scoffed. “Nah, ‘cause I already know muthafuckers gonna be lookin’ at you, and then I’ma have to beat somebody’s ass.”

You giggled, sliding into the seat. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“I ain’t jealous,” he muttered, slamming the door before walking around to the driver’s side.

When he got in, he cut you a side glance, still frowning.

You smirked. “If it makes you feel better, I only care about your eyes on me.”

Marshall grunted as he started the car. “Damn right you do.”

You shook your head, still smiling. The night hadn’t even started yet, and it was already entertaining.

-

After getting into the car, Marshall still hadn't gotten over the dress you were wearing. He kept throwing glances your way, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel as he drove.

“I swear to God, if one muthafucker even thinks about staring at you too long, I’m knockin’ his ass out.”

You laughed, adjusting your seatbelt. “Marshall, relax. I dress like this for you.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, well, I don’t like sharin’.”

You smirked, reaching over to rest your hand on his thigh. “Then maybe you should take me shopping and pick out what you like.”

Marshall gave you a look, raising an eyebrow. “Shopping?”

You nodded innocently. “Mhm. You said it’s our day, right?”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Aight, fine. But if you think I ain’t keepin’ an eye on what the fuck you’re buyin’—”

You grinned, cutting him off. “Let’s go before you change your mind.”

At the Mall

Marshall should’ve known this was a bad idea.

Not because he didn’t want to spoil you—he did. Hell, he’d give you the whole damn world if he could. But damn, the way you were tossing clothes into the shopping bags like money wasn’t a real thing? Yeah, that was starting to fuck with his head.

“Yo,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he eyed the price tag on one of the bags. “You tryna make me go broke?”

You giggled, slipping your arm around his. “Marshall, you have millions.”

“And at this rate, I’ma have zero.” He sighed dramatically, watching as you picked up another outfit. “What even is this? That shit ain't even enough fabric to be called clothes.”

You held up the tiny lace lingerie set with a smirk. “Oh, this? It’s for later.”

Marshall’s jaw clenched, and he snatched it out of your hands, tossing it over his arm before grabbing your wrist and pulling you close. “You are wearin’ this for me, right?”

You batted your lashes. “Who else?”

His blue eyes darkened slightly before he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You know what? Fuck it. Get whatever the fuck you want. Just remember, you wear this little shit outside? We fightin’.”

You laughed, kissing his cheek. “Noted.”

By the time you were done, Marshall was carrying way too many bags, grumbling under his breath the whole time.

“Fuckin’ ridiculous,” he muttered as you both walked toward the exit. “Why you need this much shit?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” you reminded him, smiling. “You said you wanted to spoil me.”

“Yeah, but damn.” He shifted the bags in his arms. “Next time, I’m takin’ you to Target.”

Lunch Date

After dropping the bags off in the car, you and Marshall headed to a nice little restaurant nearby.

As soon as you both sat down, Marshall leaned back in his seat, stretching. “Aight, now this part I don’t mind. Food? I can get behind that shit.”

You smiled, flipping through the menu. “Oh, so you don’t mind spending money on food but clothes are a problem?”

“Damn right,” he muttered. “Food don’t make me question my fuckin’ bank account.”

You giggled, shaking your head before deciding on what you wanted. When the waitress came over, Marshall ordered for both of you, making sure you got exactly what you liked.

Once the food arrived, you could tell Marshall was in his happy place. His entire mood shifted the second he took that first bite.

“God damn,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. “This shit good as fuck.”

You laughed, watching him practically melt into his seat. “You act like you’ve never had a meal before.”

He shrugged, taking another bite. “Shit, I ain’t sayin’ that. Just sayin’, whoever made this needs a raise.”

Smirking, you picked up your fork and held a piece of food out to him. “Here, try this.”

Marshall raised an eyebrow. “You tryna feed me now?”

“Come on, don’t be shy,” you teased, wiggling the fork in front of him.

He rolled his eyes but leaned in, taking the bite. He chewed for a moment before nodding. “Aight, I see you. That shit good too.”

Smiling, you wiped a little sauce from the corner of his lip with your thumb. “You got something—”

Before you could pull your hand away, Marshall smirked and suddenly took your thumb into his mouth, sucking it clean.

Your eyes widened slightly, heat rushing to your face. “Marshall!”

He chuckled, letting go. “What? You wiped it off. I just finished the job.”

Shaking your head, you picked up a fry and held it up. “Here, your turn.”

Marshall smirked, but instead of taking it with his hands, he leaned forward and took it straight from your fingers with his mouth.

“You are so dramatic,” you muttered, laughing.

He chewed and winked. “You love that shit.”

After finishing your meals, you both sat back, completely full and content. Marshall took a sip of his drink before glancing at you.

“Aight, what’s next?”

You smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He narrowed his eyes. “See, now I’m worried.”

You giggled, leaning over the table to kiss him. “Relax, babe. The day’s not over yet.”

Marshall sighed, running a hand down his face before mumbling, “I got a bad fuckin’ feelin’ ‘bout this.”

You just smiled. Oh, if only he knew.

-

The night had finally arrived, and Marshall had been quiet for most of the drive, the soft hum of the car's engine filling the spaces between you two. The city lights flickered outside as you both made your way toward your dinner destination, but you had something to share before it all went down.

"Hey," you said, breaking the silence and shifting slightly in your seat to grab the bag you had stashed beside you.

Marshall glanced over at you, brow furrowed. "What?"

You smirked, reaching into the bag and pulling out the small box with the watch you’d bought for him. "I got you something. For Valentine's Day."

He raised an eyebrow, looking over at you in surprise. "You didn’t need to get me shit," he grumbled, but his tone softened as his curiosity grew. "You know I ain't about all that gift shit."

You shrugged, holding the box out to him. "Yeah, well, I wanted to. So just take it."

Marshall hesitated for a moment before taking the box from your hand, his eyes lingering on you as he carefully opened it. Inside, a sleek, expensive watch glimmered under the interior lights of the car.

"Yo... what the fuck?" he muttered, his eyes going wide as he lifted the watch. "This... this shit’s expensive as hell, babe."

You just smiled. "You deserve it. You’ve been working your ass off."

Marshall laughed, shaking his head. "Damn. I don't even know what to say." He let out a low whistle, admiring the watch before slipping it on his wrist. "You're gonna make me feel guilty for not getting you something that costs this much."

You waved him off. "You already spoil me, Marshall. It’s not about the price."

Before he could respond, you reached into the bag again, pulling out more boxes. "And there's more."

He turned his head toward you, an eyebrow cocked in suspicion. "You serious? You get me more shit?"

You chuckled softly, handing it over. "You’ll see."

He opened it slowly, his expression changing from confusion to shock as he revealed the custom chain—his initials carved into the thick gold links, designed with care and made specifically for him. Then the expensive sneakers, which also blew his mind.

"Goddamn..." he whispered, clearly impressed. "This is... this is fuckin' next level."

You grinned. "I figured you’d like it."

"Like it? Babe, I fuckin’ love it." His voice softened, and his gaze turned to you, his usual tough demeanor melting away. "You didn’t have to do all this, though."

You shrugged, feeling a little bashful at the sincerity in his eyes. "I wanted to."

Marshall smiled, shaking his head. "You're something else, you know that? Thank you." He took a deep breath, looking down at the watch and chain once more. "I feel like a damn millionaire now."

You laughed. "You *are* a damn millionaire."

"Yeah, but this... this is a different kind of flex," he said, the grin on his face growing wider. "I’m not tryna show off, but damn, I look good."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile. "You always look good."

He shot you a playful wink before pulling into the parking lot of the restaurant. "Alright, now it’s my turn to take care of you."

You glanced around at the fancy cars parked in front of the restaurant, feeling the anticipation building up. "Where are we going?"

Marshall parked the car, turning off the engine. "It’s a surprise."

You raised an eyebrow, but before you could say anything else, he was already getting out of the car and opening your door. "Come on, let’s go."

You took his hand as he led you toward the entrance of the restaurant, the warmth of the night air brushing against your skin. The moment you stepped inside, you were hit with the unmistakable scent of luxury—wood paneling, rich leather seats, and the soft clinking of silverware.

The hostess greeted you both, giving you a nod as she checked the reservation list. "Mr. Mathers, your table is ready."

Marshall smirked, glancing over at you. "I told you I got this."

As you followed her to your table, you couldn’t help but notice the view—this restaurant had a balcony seating area that overlooked the entire city. The lights below looked like a sea of stars, and the atmosphere was quiet, intimate.

The hostess pulled out the chair for you, and you sat down, still in awe of the beautiful setting. Marshall slid into the seat next to you, his eyes scanning the area as he looked satisfied with himself.

"Damn," you whispered, taking in the view. "You really went all out, huh?"

"Only for you," he said, his voice low and genuine. "I told you, I’m makin’ tonight special. You deserve it."

You reached across the table, taking his hand in yours. "I don’t need fancy stuff, Marshall. I just need you."

He squeezed your hand, his thumb running over your skin as he looked at you with a soft smile. "Yeah, well, I want to give you more than that. I want you to know you’re the best thing I got."

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across your face. "You’re not so bad yourself, Slim."

He chuckled at the nickname, leaning back in his chair. "Guess I got a soft spot for you, huh?"

"Guess so," you teased, leaning forward as you eyed the menu. "So what are we ordering?"

Marshall scanned the options, but you could tell he was still lost in thought. He stared at you for a moment, his gaze lingering before he looked away. "I’ll let you pick. You know what you like."

You raised an eyebrow, grinning. "Are you serious? You’re not even gonna help?"

He leaned in, his voice lowering to something more playful. "Hell no. It’s your night. I’m just here to enjoy the view."

-

You couldn't resist. There was something so satisfying about pushing Marshall’s buttons, especially when he was already feeling the weight of the night’s lavish surprises. The waiter stood at your table, waiting patiently for your order. Marshall was leaning back in his chair, trying to look casual, but you could see the tension in his shoulders. You decided it was time to have some fun.

"Alright," you said, flipping through the menu one last time. "I’ll have the lobster bisque as a starter. And, uh, the Wagyu beef, medium-rare, with a side of truffle fries."

Marshall's eyes widened as he leaned forward, clearly about to say something.

"Also, throw in the foie gras. Gotta go all out, right?" You grinned, knowing full well he’d start to get worked up.

Marshall’s mouth hung open for a second before he snapped it shut, glancing at you with a mix of disbelief and amusement. "You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me," he muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing. "I’m tryna treat you right, and you’re gonna hit me with that shit?"

The waiter, trying his best to be polite, wrote down your order and nodded before walking off to place it in the kitchen. Marshall turned his attention back to you, looking like he was about to burst.

"You really gonna make me pay for all this?" he asked, an amused yet annoyed look crossing his face. "I mean, I get it, it’s Valentine’s Day, but fuck. What’s next, a bottle of 200-dollar champagne?"

You chuckled, leaning back in your chair, enjoying the show. "Maybe," you teased, trying to hold in your laughter. "Why not? You only live once, right?"

Marshall shook his head in mock disbelief, his hands running over his face as if he couldn’t believe the audacity. "You are somethin’ else, you know that?" His tone was half exasperated, half impressed. "I swear, you’re gonna bankrupt me before this night’s over."

"Yeah, well, I like to live dangerously," you said, still grinning. "You knew what you were getting into when you started dating me, Marshall. Don’t act all surprised."

Marshall let out a deep sigh and rolled his eyes. "Fuckin' crazy," he muttered under his breath, though his lips were still curling up at the edges. "You really are a pain in my ass."

"Yeah, but you love it," you teased, giving him a wink.

"Love it? Hell, I’m just tryna keep my bank account from catchin' fire." He paused, glancing at you sideways with a smirk. "But... I guess you do look good enough to justify it. Maybe."

You laughed, raising an eyebrow. "Maybe?"

"Alright, alright," he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "You look damn good. I’ll give you that. But don’t push it, alright?"

The waiter returned soon after with a basket of freshly baked bread and a bottle of sparkling water, which you immediately ignored, still grinning. "The bread looks good, but I’m holding out for the good stuff," you said, leaning forward, clearly relishing the moment.

Marshall grabbed a piece of bread, tearing into it with a sigh, clearly trying to calm himself down. "I swear, if you order another thousand-dollar meal, I’m gonna fucking lose it."

"You’ll be fine," you said nonchalantly, enjoying every second of his misery. "It’s not like you’re gonna go broke over this."

"Don’t jinx me, babe," he shot back, shoving a piece of bread in his mouth. "You’re making me second guess every damn decision I’ve made tonight."

You leaned back in your chair, taking a sip of the water. "Relax, Marshall. You’re not gonna die from a fancy dinner."

"Well, if I do, I’m blaming you," he said, taking another bite of bread. "I told you I didn’t want any of this shit. But here I am, gettin’ sucked into your ridiculousness."

You smiled smugly. "You love it. Don’t lie."

He threw his hands up in exasperation, but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Alright, fine. I love it. But damn, you’re gonna make me broke doing it."

"Hey, at least I’m worth it," you said, giving him a wink.

"Yeah, yeah," Marshall muttered, shaking his head as he reached for the wine list on the table. "You better be worth it, or else I’m putting my foot down."

You leaned over the table toward him, your smile widening. "You wouldn’t dare."

"Try me," he shot back with a smirk, raising an eyebrow. "You know I’ll do it."

As the conversation continued, the food started to arrive, each dish more expensive and extravagant than the last. The lobster bisque came out first, and it was rich, creamy, and perfect. Marshall hesitated for a second before taking a bite.

"Okay," he said begrudgingly. "This actually tastes pretty damn good."

"I know," you said, taking a spoonful yourself. "Told you."

The next dish, the Wagyu beef, arrived, perfectly seared and looking like it belonged in a five-star restaurant. You cut into it with ease, savoring the flavor. Marshall just shook his head, staring at the plate in disbelief.

"You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me," he muttered. "How the hell is this worth that much money?"

"Because it’s amazing," you replied with a grin. "It’s like the best steak you’ve ever had, but a hundred times better."

Marshall finally dug into his steak, pausing for a moment before looking up at you. "Alright, I’ll admit it. This is... fuckin’ delicious."

"Told you," you said smugly.

As the night went on, you both fed each other little bites of the various dishes, laughing and teasing each other along the way. You'd fork a piece of your steak and hold it out for him to eat, and he'd do the same with the truffle fries. You could see him start to relax, though he still had that playful edge to him.

After a while, Marshall leaned back in his chair, his arm casually resting on the back of yours. "You’re a handful, but damn if you don’t make this fun."

You rested your head against his shoulder, content. "And you love every second of it."

"Yeah, yeah. Don’t get cocky," he grumbled, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.

As the night wore on, the atmosphere at the restaurant was starting to feel a little different. The balcony where you were sitting had a great view of the city, but with that view came a lot of attention. You were halfway through your meal when you noticed the first pair of eyes lingering on your boyfriend. Marshall didn’t seem to notice at first, but as you looked around, it became obvious that people were staring, some of them even sneaking pictures and videos on their phones.

You sighed and glanced over at Marshall, who was still focused on his food, though you could tell something was starting to bug him. He could sense it too. His brow furrowed, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Fucking hell," he muttered under his breath, his gaze darting to a couple sitting at a nearby table, their phone held up just a little too obviously in his direction. "Do these assholes have no shame?"

You tried to shrug it off, giving him a small smile to reassure him. "It’s fine, Marshall. Let them take their stupid pictures. We’re here to enjoy the night, right?"

But that didn't seem to calm him down. His jaw tightened as he leaned back in his chair, clearly irritated. "Yeah, I get it. But it’s like, can’t a guy just have a fucking dinner without being treated like a damn zoo animal?"

You could tell he was starting to get worked up, so you reached over and put a hand on his, squeezing it gently. "I know, but this is what comes with the territory, babe. You’re Eminem. People want a piece of you."

He shot you a look, his eyes narrowing with frustration. "I don’t give a shit about all that. I just wanna eat my fucking food in peace."

"Yeah, I get it," you said, trying to calm him down, "but they’re gonna do it anyway. Might as well not let it ruin the night."

Marshall leaned forward, shaking his head. "It’s just annoying, man. Every time we go out, it’s like I’m fuckin’ on display." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You’d think they’d give me a break, especially on a night like tonight."

"I’m fine with it," you said, leaning in close. "I’m used to it by now. It’s not a big deal. Let them stare. They’re not important."

Marshall shot a glance at you, his lips pressed into a thin line, clearly still frustrated. "I just don’t like it. Makes me feel like I’m some fucking animal in a cage." He turned back toward the table, but you could see the tension in his shoulders. "I want to be here with you, not with a bunch of fucking strangers watching me eat like I’m some kind of freak."

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his over-the-top reaction, but you understood. Being in the public eye like he was, it was no surprise that sometimes he’d get sick of it. Still, you didn’t want it to ruin the vibe of the night.

"Okay, okay, I get it," you said, smiling as you reached for your glass of wine. "But how about this? Let’s just enjoy the meal. If they wanna stare, fine. But you and me, we’re gonna have a good time tonight. Just us."

Marshall looked at you for a moment, his eyes softening slightly. "Yeah, yeah. I guess you’re right. I’m just so fucking tired of it sometimes." He let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing his face with both hands.

"I know, babe," you said, squeezing his hand again. "But let’s not let them ruin our night, okay? We deserve this."

He gave you a small, reluctant smile, his mood lightening just a bit. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Fuck 'em."

You chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "Exactly. Fuck 'em. They’re not important."

Just as you said that, a couple at the next table discreetly took another picture, trying to be sneaky about it. You caught them and shot them a pointed look, but the couple quickly turned their attention back to their own conversation. Marshall noticed it too, and his lips twitched in amusement.

"See? Told you," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "Fucking ridiculous."

"Don’t let them get to you," you said, smiling. "They’re just fans. They’ll get over it."

"Yeah, well, I hope they do before I fucking snap," he grumbled. But even though he was still irritated, you could tell his mood was lifting a little.

The waiter came back around to check on you, and Marshall put on a strained smile, though you could tell he was still agitated. "Yeah, we’re good," he said, though his voice lacked the usual enthusiasm. "Just, uh, you know, dealing with some bullshit over here."

The waiter smiled politely, unaware of the tension. "Of course, sir. Is there anything else I can get you?"

Marshall shook his head, his grip on his wine glass tightening. "Nah, we’re good for now. Thanks."

Once the waiter left, you turned to Marshall, trying to make him laugh. "You know, if you just smiled at them, they might stop."

Marshall shot you a side-eye, his lips curling in a sarcastic smirk. "You want me to smile at them? Like a fucking puppy?"

You burst out laughing. "Well, it might help."

"Yeah, well, fuck that," he grumbled. "I’m not here to entertain anyone. I’m here with you." He finally relaxed in his seat, his mood starting to shift as he took a deep breath. "Sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to be a dick. Just... sometimes I wish I could have a night out without all this shit."

"I get it, really," you said softly, reaching across the table to touch his hand. "But we’re here now. Just focus on me. I don’t care what they’re doing."

Marshall’s eyes softened as he looked at you, his earlier frustration fading. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

Eminem leaned back in his chair, eyes sparkling mischievously as he glanced at you. You’d been enjoying the rest of your meal, laughing and joking around, but his demeanor had changed. You could tell something was coming.

"Alright, baby," he said with a sly grin, leaning toward you. "I’ve got one more surprise for you."

You raised an eyebrow, feeling the excitement bubble up. "Another one? What is it?"

He just shook his head, a little smirk playing on his lips. "Nope. You gotta trust me. Close your eyes."

You narrowed your eyes playfully at him, not quite believing him. "You’re not gonna make me do something weird, are you?"

He chuckled. "Nah, I wouldn’t do that. Just... close your eyes. Trust me."

Rolling your eyes but smiling, you obeyed, closing them and folding your arms on the table. Your heart started beating faster as the anticipation grew. "Alright, I’m trusting you," you said, your voice a little shaky with excitement.

"Good. Keep them closed."

You could hear the slight shuffle of movement, the sound of footsteps, and then a long silence. It was killing you not knowing what was happening. You felt a nervous laugh bubble up inside you. "Marshall, what the hell are you doing?"

But there was no response. Only the sound of people quietly whispering in the background. You felt a sudden shift in the air, a tension that you couldn’t quite place.

"Okay," Marshall's voice broke through, soft yet full of confidence. "Open them."

You hesitated for a second, unsure of what to expect. Slowly, you opened your eyes—and your breath hitched in your throat.

There he was, kneeling right in front of you. Marshall. Your Marshall. On one knee. And in his hand was the most beautiful ring you’d ever seen. Your heart immediately pounded in your chest, and your eyes stung with tears.

"Shit," you whispered, feeling the tears start to well up.

He laughed softly, the sound a mix of amusement and something deeper—something you couldn’t quite place yet.

"You know," he started, his voice growing serious, though there was still that familiar playful tone, "you’re the most annoying fucking bitch I’ve ever met."

You laughed through your tears, wiping your eyes quickly. "What?!"

"You are," he said with a smirk. "You drive me fucking crazy."

Your lips parted in shock, and you almost laughed, trying to push back the tears. "I—"

"But..." He paused for dramatic effect, his gaze never leaving yours. "You’re also the most smoking hot woman I’ve ever seen in my goddamn life. You’re beautiful as hell, and yeah, you’re an annoying bitch, but I don’t wanna spend another fucking day without you."

Your chest tightened as you fought back more tears. Marshall wasn’t exactly the type to spill his emotions, but when he did, it was always raw.

He took a deep breath, steadying himself as he continued. "You drain my fucking bank account, but I don’t care. I’d spend every fucking dime just to see that smile on your face." He paused, his hand shaking slightly as he held up the ring. "You’ve made my life better, and I’m ready to make you a fucking promise. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I’m asking you to be mine... forever."

Your eyes were brimming with tears now, and you struggled to find your voice. "Marshall, I—"

The crowd around you was now murmuring, a few people filming the whole moment with their phones, but you didn’t even care. It felt like it was just you and him, in that moment, the world fading into the background.

"You’ve been my fucking rock through all the bullshit, and I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you," he continued, his voice growing a little more intense. "I’m a fucking mess, but you’ve helped me put myself back together, piece by piece. So, yeah, I’m a stupid asshole sometimes. But I’ll be the best fucking man I can be... for you."

A single tear slipped down your cheek, and you wiped it away quickly, trying to steady your breath. "You’re not a mess," you whispered. "You’re everything."

Marshall gave you that trademark smirk of his. "So, will you marry me, you crazy ass woman?"

You paused, your heart racing, your mind spinning. Everything around you was fading—just you and him. You looked down at the beautiful ring in his hand, and then back up at him.

"Yes," you said, barely able to get the words out. "Yes, yes, yes!"

The room erupted into cheers as Marshall slid the ring onto your finger. You couldn’t believe it. You didn’t know what to say, so you just threw your arms around him, pulling him in for a kiss. It was rough, filled with passion and love, and you could feel the relief and joy flooding through him.

"I fucking love you," he muttered against your lips. "Don’t ever forget that."

You smiled through your tears, your heart full. "I won’t. I love you too."

-

Once you and Marshall got back to your place, the whole day felt like it was still buzzing through the air. The car ride home had been quiet, but it was a comfortable quiet, one that said more than words could. Marshall's hand had been on your thigh the entire drive, and every now and then, he’d glance at you with that knowing look that made your heart skip a beat.

You knew he was excited, not just about the day, but about the life he was promising you. And hell, you were excited too. Everything had been building up to this moment—this moment where he was finally yours, and you were his.

When you walked through the door, you didn’t even bother with small talk. You wanted to keep the night going in the best way possible. "I need to change," you said, already pulling your coat off and walking toward the bedroom. "Don’t follow me," you added with a teasing glance, knowing he’d be on your heels in an instant.

But this time, he listened.

You closed the bedroom door behind you and slid the lingerie you’d picked out at the mall earlier that day from the shopping bag. It was a black lace set, the kind that was sexy as hell but still had that mysterious, classy edge. You smirked to yourself as you undressed and slipped into it, checking yourself in the mirror. It was tight in all the right places, hugging your curves and accentuating your figure. You weren’t even going to lie, you felt fucking amazing.

You could hear Marshall out in the living room, probably pacing back and forth, anxious to see you. The anticipation was almost suffocating, but in a good way.

When you finally opened the bedroom door, his eyes immediately locked on you. He was sitting on the couch, leaning back with his elbows propped up on the arms, but when he saw you in that lingerie, he froze. His mouth parted in shock for a second, and his eyes traveled over every inch of you like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

"Goddamn, baby," he muttered under his breath. His voice was low, hoarse, like he was struggling to form the words. "You are a fucking masterpiece."

You walked toward him slowly, swaying your hips, loving the way his gaze followed every movement. "You like it?" you asked, your voice dripping with confidence, a little playful but still needy.

"Like it?" Marshall snorted, his lips curling into a smirk as he leaned forward. "Babe, I don’t just like it, I fucking love it. I can’t wait to fucking tear it off of you."

You laughed, stepping closer to him until you were standing between his legs. "You don’t have to wait much longer, Marshall."

His eyes burned into yours, and you could feel the heat rising between the two of you. He grabbed your hips and pulled you closer, his breath heavy against your neck. "I swear to God, you’re gonna be the death of me," he grumbled, his hands moving up to grip your back, pulling you even closer until there was barely any space left between your bodies.

"Yeah?" you teased, your voice soft as you let your fingers graze through his hair. "What are you gonna do about it?"

"Shit," he cursed, his hands slipping down to grab your ass, pulling you flush against him. You could feel how hard he was already, and you bit your lip, your heart racing. "You’re fucking mine," he growled. "God, I can’t wait to make you mine forever. I’m gonna marry you, you know that?"

You gasped a little, feeling the weight of his words settle deep inside you. You’d known it was coming, but hearing him say it, so raw and real, hit you harder than you expected.

"You keep saying that," you said, trying to hide the emotion that was creeping up on you. "You keep telling me how much you want to marry me."

"Because I fucking do," Marshall said, his voice filled with sincerity as he looked you dead in the eyes. "You’re it for me. I don’t want anyone else. I want you. I want to wake up next to you every fucking day for the rest of my life."

You felt your heart swell, your breath catching in your throat. It was rare for Marshall to get this vulnerable, but when he did, it made everything feel so much more real.

"You mean everything to me, baby," he continued, his voice soft but intense, "and I’m not going anywhere. I want to marry you and fucking spoil you. I wanna do all the shit I never thought I’d do, just to see you smile. You deserve all of it."

Your chest tightened with emotion, and you couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath. "I love you," you whispered, your hands trembling slightly as you slid them down to his chest.

"I fucking love you too," he murmured back, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. "And when I’m done with you tonight, you’re gonna know exactly how much."

-

Extra:

Marshall’s hands roamed over your body, every touch sending sparks through you as you kissed each other harder. His lips trailed down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. When he pulled away, he looked at you, eyes dark with desire.

“You know,” he murmured, voice thick, “we should have kids. Yeah, seriously. You’d look fucking amazing pregnant.” He smirked, his hands moving down to your waist. “I can already picture it. Your tits getting all full of milk, your body getting even more plump. Shit, you’d be even sexier as a mother.”

You couldn’t even respond, your mind too clouded by desire. His words only made your pulse race faster, and you could barely focus on anything other than how badly you wanted him. Your body was already overwhelmed, and you couldn’t do anything but let him continue, caught in the heat of the moment.

[aliwritex]

hi this is kinda weird request ig lol but since it's valentine's day could you make a franco fic where he goes to his bsf house (cuz she lives in monaco and he's in monaco now, at least was in this morning for business / might not be an important information but it could be an excuse for him to stay over at her house or whatever) and both are single so they're the only valentine option to each other ?

notes: i’m only an hour late i’ve seen people post kinktober in december have mercy 🙏🏽 this is also short but there’ll be part two with smut that’s how i’m choosing to apologize edit: changed the header to match pt 2

You thought another valentine’s day alone wouldn’t bother you so much – since it would be the 20th of your life. You had girlfriends over for dinner the night before and had planned to stay in on the 14th, do some crafts maybe and clean up the decorations from your ‘galentines’ dinner.

In fact, you were fine, you didn’t really mind till you opened up instagram and saw everyone getting flowers, then moved to tiktok for distraction and everything was valentine’s themed.

You just groaned and put on phone down, deciding to do something else, but just as you did it chimed. You picked it back up again, it was a text from your friend.

“wyd tonight?” “nothing i’m guessing”

“you don’t have to say it like that” “you’re alone too this year” you replied

“i just landed in monaco” “we should hang out, later tho cause now i need a nap”

You agreed on dinner, at your place – you figured all the restaurants would be too busy and you didn’t want to pass as a couple. So hours later you found yourself setting up the table for another homemade dinner in your tiny apartment.

Franco didn’t knock, he texted you that he was on his way and you told him the door was unlocked. So he caught you bringing the food to the table and called out your name softly to not scare you. It still scared you, but it’s the intention that counts. When you turned around he had a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine.

“I was feeling festive” he explained “also thought you deserved something since you’re the one feeding me”

“I missed you,” you moved to hug him and couldn’t help but enjoy inhaling his cologne and having his arms wrapped around your waist, “haven’t seen you since last year. You look-“ you stopped to take a look at him “tan”

It’s not that you had a crush on Franco, you just knew and acknowledged that he was a handsome man. And he smelled really good, always. The fact was, he was the only close male friend that you had so your brain was always confused about your feelings towards him. Certainly you’d say you loved your girlfriends and would do anything for them but it was different with him, you didn’t really know where to cross the line. Besides, your friends always say that someday you might just end up together.

“What a latin summer gets you. Can we eat? I’m starving and this smells amazing” he asked as soon as you let go of him.

“Yeah, yeah. Can you serve us and wait in the living room while I deal with the flowers? We can catch up while we eat “

Franco gladly followed your instructions and walked to the couch with two plates as you got your flowers sorted. It was really sweet of him to get you a bouquet, though you couldn’t help but think it was a bit uncharacteristic of him to do so. You had never hung out on valentine’s before, so maybe he was just, in fact, feeling festive.

You had to stop your overthinking by the time you were done with the flowers, so you served some wine and made your way to the couch.

Besides the crazy thoughts in your head, your friendship with Franco had always been easy. One of those that you can just sit and talk about everything, it came easy for both of you. So by the time you were done with dinner you had already been through a thousand different topics and you had your head on his lap.

“So, what has got you spending Valentine’s alone? Not even desperate girls begging to get dicked down?”

“Can’t I take the time to come see you?” he raised his eyebrows as he looked down at you.

“Oh, don’t flatter me. I’d rather it was someone else instead of you, too, so don’t feel bad”

“I didn’t wish it was someone else, I like being with you. Besides, I think we had a proper valentines, dinner, flowers, wine, we’re basically only missing one thing” he teased, but you didn’t catch it, too busy scrolling through netflix to find something to watch.

“The chocolate, right? I swear I hid a box from myself last week but I couldn’t find it earlier. Can you bel-“

“That’s not what I was talking about, ¡por dios!” he said, frustrated before bending down to kiss you.

You were in shock for a second, unable to move as his lips pressed against yours till he pulled away to look at you. Then you didn’t hesitate in sitting up and reaching back for the kiss. His hand reached for your face, pulling you closer and smiling when your lips brushed.

Your noses bumped before he kissed you again. You could almost taste the wine on his stained lips and it made you want more. So when your lips parted and interlocked you sighed against his, letting him kiss deeper and deeper into your mouth.

You hadn’t realized how much you actually wanted him till then but since you got a taste you couldn’t stop yourself. Your hands met the back of his neck, pulling him closer as his fell to your legs, guiding you to straddle him. In no time you were sat on his lap, making out, tasting each other’s mouths as you felt heat travel from your faces down to your cores.

[cloversplace]

“Pony was being dramatic!” “Darry only hit him once!” “You’re telling me Darry never hit him before?” “Johnny gets hit everyday at home and doesn’t complain!”

Shush. Just, stop for a minute. I personally think that Pony’s reaction to getting slapped was justified, and it angers me a little sometimes when people chalk it down to just him being a brat. Ponyboy already thinks Darry doesn’t want him around, Darry’s constantly on Pony for every little thing, being hard on him to keep him from getting taken away. Hitting him is one thing that would get Pony taken away faster than anything else, in doing this, Darry’s accidentally sending Ponyboy a message: He doesn’t just not want him around, he wants to get rid of him as quickly as possible. 

“Oh but Darry probably hit him a lot when they were kids!” EXACTLY. When. They. Were. KIDS. Darry 100% slugged Pony a couple times bc he was being a little shit, but Darry’s stuck halfway between being a father and a brother. He’s not just Pony’s brother anymore, he’s his guardian. Pony explicitly says that no one in his family hit each other, including their parents. Pony says Darry looks exactly like their dad, in that moment, Pony can’t imagine his father hitting him. If his parents had still been alive and his father had hit him instead of Darry, Pony would’ve had the same reaction. Pony’s in shock, when someone is hurt they go into fight or flight, Pony is a track star, and also kinda scrawny. (no offense Pony) He’s gonna choose to run instead of try to fight back. Because in his mind, if Darry hit him once, who’s to say he isn’t gonna do it again?

Now onto Johnny, yes Johnny has it way, way worse at home than Pony does. But he’s also used to it, it’s sad, but true. Johnny’s used to being hit by his parents, Pony isn’t. The first hits are always the worst. We see that in Tex and The Outsiders. There’s no doubt in my mind that Johnny acted like Pony did when he was younger, when he wasn’t so used to his parents hitting him. If Darry continued to hit Pony, Pony would eventually start to act like Johnny. Learn to take it. I also don’t think that Johnny was mad/annoyed with Pony for acting like he did. Maybe Johnny was a little jealous when Pony used to complain that Darry hated him. But that was before Darry hit him, Johnny’s probably a little mad at Darry too, being honest. Darry’s supposed to be the one holding them together. The one refuge most greasers on the East side have. Johnny probably knew deep down that Darry was scared and most likely felt bad and won’t do it again. But you still don’t hit people when you’re scared. Johnny has never been hit out of fear, every time his parents beat on him it’s out of anger. You hit out of anger, you fight back out of fear. 

So no, Pony didn’t deserve to be slapped. He wasn’t asking for it. They lost their parents less than a year ago. Darry is 20 years old for fuck’s sake! I bet some of you reading this right now are either older than that or only a year or two younger. 20 is arguably still a kid, and 20 should not be the age to take on two jobs, maintaining a house, and taking care of two teenagers, plus 4 other teens and oh, I don’t know, almost everyone in eastern Tulsa? That’s too much to ask of anyone. Even if Pony was being a little shit (which he usually is, but in the argument that night I would say Darry kind of instigated it more, at least in the book/movie) that still doesn’t mean he deserved the hit, or shove, in the movie’s case. 

Thank you for coming to my ted talk, I really needed to just put that out there. I’m seeing so many people ratting on Pony for the way he acted, especially comparing him to the way Johnny is treated at home. Which isn’t fair in my opinion. Thank u for listening! 💜

@natur3sf1rstgr33n @magefelixir @staygoldspiiderrah @marciavalance @sonnysimagination@polishravagingasexual @dairyfairyy @curtis-brothers-hug @penguinstuff @colequette@therealtwobit67 @far-away-from-tulsa @strxwberry-julius @fawning4leif @im14andivebeen14foramonth @chipperdipperr @stayruby @averagefandomist @johnnycademyschmookie @maxiebearz @totoroboiii

[leaderwon]

VALENTINE'S DAY WITH RI-KI!

Synopsis : Riki brews a thoughtful surprise in the form of a personalized coffee date, complete with a hand written love note hidden under your cup.

Warnings : Fluff, mentions of food

Wc : 2k+

Luna's Diary : aaannddd 2025 valentine's day is a wrap :3 tysm for reading :)

masterlist

Valentine's Day was always painted with hues of red roses and boxes of heart shaped chocolates. But for you, this year carried a unique charm, a touch of Riki's creativity and warmth. The morning sun poured into your window as your phone vibrated on the nightstand.

“Morning. Meet me at our usual spot at 11? :)” Riki’s text was short but filled with intrigue. You smiled, already imagining what he might have up his sleeve. The “usual spot” was a quaint coffee shop tucked into a corner street, where the aroma of freshly brewed coffee lingered like a comforting hug.

By the time you arrived, Riki was already waiting by the window. He spotted you instantly, his eyes lighting up as he waved enthusiastically. His tousled hair framed his face, and a grin stretched across his lips.

“Right on time” he teased as you sat down across from him. “I could say the same about you” you quipped. “What’s the occasion?” His grin widened. “What, I can’t just ask you out for coffee on Valentine’s Day without being suspicious?”

“You totally can, but I know you. There’s definitely a twist” you said, narrowing your eyes playfully. He laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Maybe, maybe not. But first, coffee.”

True to his word, Riki ordered your favorite drinks. The barista greeted him with a knowing smile, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was a regular conspirator in Riki’s plans. Moments later, your cups arrived, steaming and adorned with perfectly swirled foam art.

“Cheers to Valentine's Day” Riki said, holding up his cup. “To surprises, I guess” you added, clinking your cup against his.

The rich flavor of the coffee warmed you from the inside out. Conversation flowed effortlessly, filled with laughter and stories that made time slip through your fingers. Yet, there was an underlying excitement in Riki’s demeanor, like he was waiting for the perfect moment.

“So, have you made any Valentine’s Day wishes?” he asked, stirring his drink absently. You tilted your head. “Is that a thing?” “It is if you want it to be. Go ahead, make one.”

You played along, closing your eyes dramatically. “Okay, I’ve got one.” He leaned in, his voice low. “What did you wish for?” “Not telling” you teased. He pouted, but there was a glimmer in his eyes. “Fine. But I have something better than a wish.”

Riki gestured to your cup. Confused, you lifted it slightly, and that’s when you noticed it, a small, folded note stuck to the bottom. “What’s this?” you asked, heart racing as you peeled it off. “Open it” he encouraged, his voice gentle.

With trembling fingers, you unfolded the note. His familiar handwriting covered the paper, each word carefully crafted.

“Happy Valentine’s Day. I thought about getting you flowers, but I figured words last longer. So here’s this: You make every day brighter, and honestly, there’s no one else I’d rather share coffee and dumb jokes with. You’re my favorite person, the one who turns even boring moments into memories I never want to forget. You make my world lighter and happier in ways I didn’t even know I needed. Thank you for being yourself and letting me be by your side through it all. I hope I can keep making you smile, just like you always do for me.” - Riki

Emotion welled up in your chest as you read his words. It was simple, honest, and utterly perfect. “Riki” you whispered, looking up at him. “I meant every word” he said softly. “You’re kinda stuck with me, you know.”

You laughed through the tears threatening to spill. “Good thing I don’t mind that.” He reached across the table, his hand finding yours. The warmth of his touch was grounding. “So... did I beat your Valentine’s Day wish?” he asked with a mischievous glint. “You blew it out of the water” you admitted. “Good.” He leaned back, clearly satisfied with himself. “Now we just need dessert.”

“Is that code for more surprises?” “Maybe. But this time, you’ll have to wait and see” he said with a wink.

The rest of the date unfolded with sweetness, literal and figurative. You shared slices of cake, argued playfully over which flavor was better, and made a mess with whipped cream that Riki absolutely did on purpose.

As you left the coffee shop, the world felt lighter. Riki walked beside you, his hand intertwined with yours. The city buzzed with Valentine’s Day festivities, but all you could focus on was him.

“You know, this might be my favorite Valentine’s Day ever” you admitted. “Really? Even without the fancy stuff?” “Especially without the fancy stuff” you emphasized. He grinned. “Guess I’ll have to top it next year.” “Good luck with that” you teased.

Riki pulled you closer, his voice warm. “Challenge accepted.”

And as the day faded into evening, one thing was clear: love wasn’t in the grand gestures but in the thoughtful moments, the laughter, and the handwritten notes that lingered in your heart forever.

© @leaderwon 2025. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[widow1barnes]

Civil war! Bucky barnes headcanons~

The reader has been tasked with the mission to take care of a misunderstood, confused and wanted Bucky barnes.

• Steve asked you to hide him somehwere while they were all on the run so now your stuck baby sitting Bucky. But it’s not all that bad

•He’s quiet when you two first set off on your journey, but he stares alot.

Reader: “do you want something?”

Bucky: *blank stare before he shakes his head and continues to stare*

Reader: “ookayyy…”

•When you two arrive at a mobile that Natasha managed to find for you he INSISTS to sleep on the ground and won’t have it any other way.

•Never takes off his dog tags and sleeps really close to his cap and all his belongings

•You’ll gain a bit of trust over the couple days but after a few weeks you’ll wake up one morning and he’s gone. At first your like shit he’s don’t a runner on me but when you walk out side he’ll just be there with cans of food and a CD in his hand

Bucky: I bought supplies. And I thought we could put this in the- the uh- the thing.

Reader: The CD player ?

Bucky: yeah that.

•Always finishes every single part of his meal no matter what it is. My boy was raised good.

•back to the whole staring thing but he HATES small talk with a passion. Hell have non of that ‘how are you’ or ‘the weathers nice today’ it’s either a full conversation or just blank stares.

• when you two finally got the stations to work on the busted TV in the mobile you always caught him watching kids cartoons like looney toons, scooby doo mystery inc and others. He finds them entertaining like a child since he didn’t have them when he was a kid.

• He doesn’t know how to cook. Nu-uh not at all

• he has a guilt-fueled morning routine. He wakes up and immediately checks his hands and surroundings to make sure there’s no blood or weapons he might have accidentally drawn or used when he was asleep. Every morning he peeks into your bed just for a moment to make sure he didn’t go winter soilder and kill you. You’ve caught him peeking once or twice.

• when he gets more talkative he will tell you things he found out from newspapers that are outdated by like decades.

Bucky: “hey uh did you hear that that music group called the Beatles split up? It says it here on the papers”

Reader: “I-…no, no Bucky I didn’t know that”

• you tried introducing him to music from the 21st century like lady gaga, 1D, Britney, and others but he kinda just sat there confused until you turned it off

• From his years as the winter soilder he’s learned to nap ANYWHERE. You could find this man in the backyard, on top of the mobile you name it.

Bucky in wakanda headcanons next !

[beesonhoneytoast]

♡ valentine ♡

armin arlert x reader

a/n: i wanted to write a lil fic for my baby armin cos it’s love day!! i hope this isn’t too ooc for him ><

written to the lyrics of ‘valentine’ by laufey

cw: slightly jealous armin, weirdos tryna win your heart (and failing to do so miserably), friends to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff, kissing, swearing, armin is inexperienced (but bless his heart he’s trying his best), armin nerds out about the sea, aot spoilers ofc, armin spirals a lil, hurt/comfort(?), crying, reader is kinda a bully but in a lighthearted way, this is kinda somewhere between the events of the timeskip

word count: 1.9k

you hadn’t been one to accept affections just because.

so, when a random scout came to hit you up, you had to politely decline.

you would’ve liked to say that was the end of it, but they were persistent that you be their valentine for today. yuck.

“cmon, hun. why don’t you give me a chance?” they teased you.

“i said no thank you.” you repeated yourself, your tone slightly wavering with the discomfort that this person brought you. you had turned your body away from them, shielding yourself from their pestering.

i’ve rejected affections for years and years

just as they were going to make some sort of advance on you, you were suddenly being defended by armin arlert.

he shoved himself between you and them. “hey, piss off why don’t you? they said they aren’t interested. so if you really do love them, i suggest you respect their wishes.” he demanded them.

the words rolled right off armin’s tongue, like the spirit of erwin had possessed him, and urged him to say those words. the thought hurt to think about. it made him think he really was trying to replace erwin.

oh god, this was awful. how could armin think himself like that? like he could possibly be on erwin’s level—

“armin?” your voice cut through the cyclone of anxiety ransacking his mind.

now i have it. and damn it, it’s kind of weird

his ocean eyes quickly snapped to look at you. “y/n? are you okay? they didn’t hurt you, did they? i swear, if that dirtbag laid a finger on your pretty face, i—”

armin’s words caught you off guard.

he tells me i’m pretty, don’t know how to respond

“woah, slow down, armin. i’m fine. thanks to you. so don’t worry that pretty blonde head of yours too much.” you chuckled, patting his shoulder.

i tell him that he’s pretty, too. can i say that? don’t have a clue

armin’s face reddened at your assurances and your touch. his lips pursed and his head ducked down shamefully, his eyes fixed on the floor.

with every passing moment, i surprise myself

“you got a valentine, armin?” you asked him, walking off with the blonde trailing behind you like a lost puppy.

“um… no. i don’t really… know how any of that stuff works. nor do i think anyone is really interested in being my valentine. especially not after what happened.” armin admitted.

you turned at this. you knew that the decision to save armin’s life was not one made without minor cost. but as you heard it, it seemed commander erwin was already dead before captain levi could even make a decision.

you had also heard that in the midst of armin becoming a titan, he had eaten bertholdt and gained the powers of the colossal titan. he never wanted this. he never asked for this. but it’s happened anyway.

and it was up to you to accept him for that.

i’m scared of flies, im scared of guys. someone please help

“armin, look at me.” you guided his chin up, his big blues fixing on yours.

“what is it?” he asked you with desperation on his words.

“what’s happened to you during the fight against bertholdt and reiner was completely outside of your control. but you know what was and what i think was very brave and very selfless of you? your willingness to die for your best friends. and i strongly believe eren and mikasa would say the same.” you wanted to drill these words into his brain. you weren’t about to just let someone as sweet and intelligent as armin get away with this self deprecation of his. not ever.

prickles of tears gathered on armin’s lash line. his head shook and his hands held yours at his cheeks. “y/n, why… why do you do this? why would you tell me all these pretty words?”

you used your thumbs to wipe away his tears as they tripped over armin’s lower eyelids. “because…” you started.

you thought of everything armin had gone through in the last several years. from being bullied as a kid, losing his family, being drafted in the army, having to watch his best friend be eaten by a titan and thinking he was killed, then with what happened in shinganshina with the fight against the armored and colossal titans… yeah, there was no way you were gonna let armin self destruct like this.

“you’re not just gonna be abandoned because you went through things that happened outside of your control.” you told him.

your words clearly touched armin, judging by the tears that now streamed down his blotchy red cheeks. his shoulders twitched, and his hands balled into trembling fists against your sleeve.

“armin, are you…” you began, but armin’s next action would be one to silence your worries.

he used his grip on your arms to pull you towards his body, his lips meshing with yours in a moment’s notice. his eyes were squeezed shut like he was bracing himself for the impact. as though his decision was rash and he didn’t know what he was doing. no, that wasn’t it. it was more like…

like he was scared you’d push him away.

but who were you to push him away? you wanted to pull him even closer, but he would pull away from you before you could even act on your thoughts.

fear flooded his wide eyes. “oh my god, i am… so sorry, y/n.. i—”

nope. you weren’t about to hear it. you grabbed him by the collar of his uniform shirt, your lips silencing any qualms about his actions.

armin’s hands trembled against your shoulders awkwardly. he had no clue where to put them. adorable. just adorable. he was such a dork and you loved him. he was such a romantically awkward dork.

your romantically awkward dork.

once you pulled away, armin seemed astounded. he stared off into space, blinking wordlessly for a few minutes.

“i… i don’t… why did you… do this?” armin panted, shaking his head slightly with his disbelief.

you chuckled at his oblivion. “i think a certain three words are in order to sort of… clarify things.” you leaned in towards his ear, tucking a strand of his blonde hair back behind armin’s ear. “i adore you.” you whispered against the shell of his ear.

the little gasp armin emitted didn’t go unnoticed. “you… what?”

you leaned back to look at his blushing face again. “i don’t think i need to repeat myself, arlert.” you tutted.

‘cause i think i’ve fallen in love this time

red gradually painted his skin from the inside, a high pitched squeal leaving him. “uhh��� wow. okay… i’m… you… you…”

“you…?” you mocked him, the action lightheartedly intended.

“you… oh, you tease!” he whined, burying his face in his hands.

you cackled at his flustered mood, prying his hands from the hidden visage. “not my problem that you’re so fun to torment.”

“no fair, you’re so mean to me!” he whined, feigning hurt.

“yeah, i know. aren’t i just the worst? aren’t i your big bully?” you jeered, getting all up in his face.

armin pouts and crosses his arms. he was acting like a child. it was endearing, if anything. especially when he turned his back towards you.

“hey, now. don’t be like that, armin.” you scoffed, wrapping your arms around him from behind, not missing the little shiver of his body.

“be serious. why do you love me?” armin solemnly asked, turning back to you.

you exhaled through your nose at this, creating a sigh. getting to his heart would be hard. but you were willing to do it. “armin… you’ve gone through so much hardship over the years. but… that’s not why i love you. that alone would just be pity. see; you’ve always fought for what you believe in. you’ve fought for the livelihoods of your friends, your comrades, the commanders, strangers… and i can’t help but feel a sense of pride and affection when i look at you. the way you smiled that day on the beach; how you lit up at first sight of the vast, uncharted horizon we arrived on. you are intelligent beyond any means of comparison. your empathy and the grace you have displayed for others… your worry for even people like bertholdt who have committed atrocities. there’s just… so many things about you that i could say… so many attributes that i could admire… how could i not love you?”

the end of your monologue moved armin to more tears. a sob hitched in his throat.

you only offered him a sympathetic smile, not saying a word as you opened your arms to him.

armin was reluctant to accept this embrace, even though his earlier actions were bold. but he did eventually step towards you and allowed himself to receive your affection. he was tense, but he would soon allow himself to relax when he assessed the situation to be safe. he was safe. he was home.

you both haven’t the faintest idea of how or when, but you suddenly were slow dancing in one of the common areas, soft love songs playing on the gramophone.

then you found yourselves frolicking amongst the couples on the streets of this seaside town.

armin treated you with any sweet or savory treats you wanted, and you would find a peculiar little stand.

it sold bouquets of what you thought were flowers you’d never seen before.

but as you got closer, you realized they weren’t flowers; they were seashells.

you of course had to know of armin’s affinity for the sea, so it would be a crime not to get him one of them.

you were lucky you had caught armin in a moment where he was distracted and observing another stand, so you took advantage of his distraction to purchase one of the ornate bouquets and held it behind your back.

when armin turned back to face you, he immediately took notice of your hidden arm.

“y/n… what are you hiding from me?” he wondered.

“hiding? pfft, what would i be hiding from you?” you dismissed him in a way that intentionally made you so obvious. you just wanted to rile him up first, and pique his interest.

“y/n, come on!” he giggled, the little sound echoing in your brain like it was a song sung in an empty church.

“okay, pushy pants.” you submitted to his nosiness and presented the shell bouquet to him.

immediately he was hyperfocused on the present. “wha- a bouquet of… shells?” he furrowed his eyebrows at it, clearly struggling to see the fact that it was no ordinary bouquet. he took it up into his grasp and observed the different shells that formed the bouquet.

“those are worm snail shells… conus… miter…” god damn it, he was really gonna start nerding out and start naming all the types of shells here, wasn’t he?

you couldn’t help the little snicker that flew from your mouth.

“what?” armin whined defensively.

“you’re such a dork.” you shook your head laughing heartily.

“i know, i just love the sea…” he muttered sheepishly.

“but hey, there’s nothing wrong with that. i think it’s pretty cute, honestly.” you added, not giving him room to argue.

you made your way to the beach, armin still cradling his new shell bouquet against the crook of his elbow.

you both sat on the shoreline, your shoes and socks were discarded so you could soak your feet in the crawling waves.

now the sun was just sinking below the horizon line, so that it may rise for those on the other side.

for the people that you and armin longed to meet, who were now waking up for the day.

you wanted to know if they really would treat you as monsters and traitors who abandoned them for the titans to take.

but as for today… you’d rather not think too much on that.

you and armin shuffled so you were sat side to side on the soft sand of the beach, leaning on each other. your fingers intertwined together on the cool sediment.

i blinked then suddenly, i had a valentine…

story written by @beesonhoneytoast

characters belong to attack on titan: 進撃の巨人 © 2009

[ashes-writing-corner]

Well nevermind I guess I'm updating today yall XD

This is probably my shortest chapter to date but it's like really important and I kinda wanted to be it's own thing. I hope you guys don't mind lore dumps here but...wanted to give some insight to Orlok's backstory here. Hope you enjoy!

Taglist: @exactlyelegantwizard, @xenoanamorph, @hoeia-strigoi, @arwenkenobi48, @xanth420, @serpentdeath, @landlockedmermaid77, @uncensored-aj, @mypackpride, @whisperingwillowe, @sasksdemorg, @emimuart, and @fern-and-bone

If you wanna be added to the taglist let me know! Enjoy!!!! ^-^

Exile: A Nosferatu Fanfic

Chapter 8

I think I’ve seen this film before, and I didn’t like the ending…

He came so close, so close. Too close. Too close to spilling everything. It was so tempting, so damn tempting. But Orlok couldn’t let himself be tempted. He couldn’t let himself face everything. It was pain that led him to this. He would not let that pain infect her too, anymore than it already did.

His pain started all of this. His grief…

No. No it wasn’t his pain. It wasn’t his grief. It was his ambition. Then it was his grief. Then it was pain. An all consuming pain that he couldn’t dare speak of…

He had tried so hard. So hard to defy his own nature, his own being for his beloved Mirela. He loved her, loved her more than power, more than anything in all the worlds. His first true, real love. She loved him as well, but fearing for his well being, she only agreed to marry him if he gave up his sorcerer’s ways.

So he did.

For a time, anyway.

But nobody could defy their nature. Not him, not anyone. Mirela, his sweet, adoring Mirela, fell ill after giving him his greatest treasure: their child, a little girl Ileana. As hard as he tried to defy his nature, to escape his fate, It came back with a fearsome vengeance. Fate, God, whatever the higher powers who cursed him so, denied him his happiness, his future.

Mirela passed of her fever, and Ileana shortly after. Liev Orlok died with them, as he lost himself once more in his drive to find a spell to bring back his lost family. But no spell could resurrect the dead, at least not as they were. No Solomonari could bring the dead back to life. Despite everything, countless nights spent searching and going half mad with exhaustion and pain, all that he was was lost to him forever.

He had loved, and love only brought pain with it. He couldn’t save them. He had no right to mourn them. The rest of his days were spent in cruelty, returning to his previous dark ways in full force in an attempt to drown out that ever so present ache. He left Mirela and Ileana in the past, where they belonged. From their deaths to his own years later, he was only the Count, the Demon…nothing more. Nothing less.

But he couldn’t find his rest or reprieve even in death. His wicked ways, his power preserved what was left of him, and once again he was cursed by whatever higher, or perhaps lower, powers there were. Damned to walk the night eternally, to never see or even hear his loved ones again. It was less than what he felt he deserved but it was punishment enough.

And perhaps that’s what this place was. A place of punishment. A place to be reminded of all that he lost. It made sense, too much sense really. Hell? It may as well be at this point.

Orlok stopped in front of a door, one he never wanted to open again, to a room he never wanted to set foot into again. He was alone, the hounds were still with Ellen. His long fingered hand briskly touched the knob and then pulled back.

No…not today. Not this time. He couldn’t.

The vampire turned away from the door only to stop dead when he heard the soft cries of a baby inside. He knew those cries, reminding him of the fleeting time he had with his daughter. How he had tried to keep her alive and failed. The nights spent with her, trying to keep her little body warm as she suffered from illness. Her short little life had been nothing but pain, and he could do nothing to stop it, to take that pain away. All he could do was endure it with her, hoping his presence offered some sort of cursed comfort to his baby daughter. She passed early in the morning before sunrise, before he woke. He was in the room, but had left her alone. More or less, Ileana had died alone because of him.

Orlok shuddered, visibly shaken. It took a lot to unnerve him. As a solomonari, he had seen, heard of, and done things that would make many brave ones falter. But the voice of his late wife, the cries of his daughter…that was what struck him most.

The constant reminder of his failure was what unnerved him most. The little stuffed bear sat by the door when he looked again, as if attempting to entice him inside. It was slumped innocently, sadly, on the floor. He hadn’t placed it there…at least not that he remembered. Orlok growled at the thing, Not trusting it to be something real, though he’d held it many a time in those moments of weakness.

His daughter’s cries grew louder and the Count tore himself away from the door. He would not falter today.

Not today. Not ever if he could help it.

He was a monster. Monsters, he reminded himself, were not entitled to grief. Pain was their due, and it would suffice him as it had for centuries. It was bitter but it was the least he deserved. He kept walking away, the cries becoming distant in his ears until finally he was far enough away they couldn’t reach him. He breathed hard, closing his eyes tightly. Orlok felt a sharp, tight pain in his chest, and when he looked again, the little stuffed bear was in one of the chairs by the fire, still slumped over, sad and innocent.

“Îmi pare atât de rău iubiera mea…”

Short but kinda heavy! Hope you guys liked. If you enjoy this please feel free to like, comment, and reblog. If you wanna see more of my work please follow ^-^ thank you soooooo much guys ^^

[wordsmithwhumpsandfluff]

Overworked male character of your choosing got stomach flu when he's at work please? Thank you ♥️

Anon: Can I request a story where one of the characters got the stomach flu and got it really bad. They have a really high fever and are out of it and negative, and they don't want to eat or drink anything and they just want comfort, but everything that touches them hurts them and they're just emotional and in pain. P.S. LOVEEEEE YOUR WRITING ❤️

Oml, y’all have no idea how long this second request has been in my inbox… Since last YEAR!!

Kinda ironic that the ask attached to this fix is my most recent 😅

Anyway, enjoy this lovely mix of my oldest and newest requests!!!

————————————————————————————————-

All day, Oliver had been feeling. . . off.

From the moment he woke up, he just felt weird.

He was too tired to put together one of his simple-yet-cute outfits. He wound up—for the first time since high school SAT season—simply putting on a t-shirt and his largest pair of sweatpants. He even threw on a hoodie because he just felt chilly.

He still went to class, despite how he was feeling. He just had too much work to do and couldn’t risk skipping classes just because of a bit of tiredness.

Thirty minutes into his professor’s lecture, his head started pounding. His brain throbbed in his skull during all of his classes.

His last class was expository writing, and he wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in his seat.

Oliver was the last one out of the classroom. His backpack was full and heavy on his back, so he was carrying three of his books. He was practically swaying on his feet as he walked out of the building and to the parking lot.

He was driving back to his apartment, when he suddenly remembered he’d left several important assignments at Isaac’s place.

He groaned as he turned his car around. He wanted nothing more than to go home and fall asleep, but he needed to finish those assignments and turn them in. He had so much to do and so little time to do it all.

Isaac’s place wasn’t far from campus or his apartment, so he got there pretty quickly.

When Oliver got to Isaac’s apartment, it was late (the price of Oliver’s last class being a very late one) and he had no idea if Isaac was asleep or not since Isaac sometimes decided to sleep early. When he unlocked the door with his key and saw that the place was completely dark, he realized Isaac was asleep.

He thought about just getting his stuff later, but he was here now so he might as well just grab it and go.

Oliver shut the door quietly behind himself and tried to be as silent as possible as he made his way to Isaac’s living room where his stuff was.

As he was gathering his papers into his arms, a wave of dizziness hit him so hard that he had to lean against the couch to keep from collapsing.

Suddenly, his stomach felt like it was churning. Knowing what was about to happen, Oliver stumbled away from the couch, dropping his stuff on it, and ran to Isaac’s kitchen where he bent over the sink and retched loudly before vomiting.

He puked once. Then twice. And suddenly, the lights came on.

“Olive?” Isaac said. He was in his pajamas, but he didn’t look like he’d just been woken up.

When Isaac realized the state Oliver was in, his eyes widened and he cursed, hurrying to the kitchen and Oliver’s side. “Olive, what the hell—?”

Oliver dry heaved a couple times before spitting into the sink and mumbling, “I came over to grab my assignments. I thought you were asleep.”

“I was brushing my teeth,” Isaac said. Then he brought a hand to cup Oliver’s forehead, and he cursed again. “You’re burning up, baby.”

Oliver sighed as he closed his eyes and leaned into Isaac’s touch.

“Have you been sick all day? Did you go to your classes?”

Oliver opened his mouth to answer, but he only ended up puking again, bending further over the edge of the sink. The marble pushed against his stomach and brought up another stream of bile.

After puking for what seemed like forever, Oliver was finally empty. But he still felt nauseous and continued to dry heave.

“Olive, you’re done. You’re empty,” Isaac soothed, rubbing a gentle and steadying hand between Oliver’s shoulder blades.

“‘M sorry,” Oliver groaned.

Isaac smiled softly. “Don’t apologize. C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

Oliver finally looked up at his boyfriend. “I should get home,” he said. “I have to finish a lot of work, and I have to study and— and—” He couldn’t finish the sentence before another wave of dizziness crashed into him like a bus, and he swayed dangerously on his feet.

Isaac quickly steadied him and wrapped his arms around him. “Yeah, hell no. You’re staying here tonight.” And with that, he bent down and hooked an arm under Oliver’s knees, picking him up bridal style. Oliver was as small and skinny as ever. He was light and Isaac easily carried him over to his bedroom and laid him on the bed, tucking him under the sheets.

“Isaac,” Oliver groaned. “I’m serious. I have a lot of work to do, and—”

“You have plenty of time to do your work, Mr. Perfectionist. Right now, you’re sick. Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

Oliver watched his boyfriend run out of the bedroom. When he came back, he had an armful of stuff.

“Okay,” he said, setting the stuff down on his bedside table. He picked up a thermometer and sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at Oliver. “Under the tongue,” he said, holding the thermometer up to Oliver’s mouth.

Oliver opened his mouth and Isaac slipped the thermometer in. He stroked Oliver’s hair sweetly until the thermometer beeped. He took it from Oliver’s mouth and sighed when he saw the high number. He put the thermometer back onto the side table and grabbed a bottle of water and some medicine.

“Here,” he said, holding up the two pills and the water. Oliver sat up and swallowed the pills with the water before lying back down. Isaac set the water bottle down before going around the bed and climbing in next to his ill boyfriend.

Instantly, Oliver scooted closer to Isaac.

In response, Isaac pulled Oliver close to his chest. He could feel the heat rolling off him, and he worried even more, but he didn’t say anything. It didn’t take long for Oliver to fall asleep. Isaac fell asleep soon after.

— — —

At 2am, Isaac woke up freezing.

It took him a minute to realize all the blankets had been pulled off of him. It took him another minute to remember that Oliver was there.

He sat up and blinked sleepily at his shivering and pale boyfriend. Oliver had taken all the blankets, but he was still trembling.

Isaac pressed a hand to Oliver’s cheek and drew back instantly from the raging heat of his boyfriend’s skin. He was on fire!

“Shit,” he whispered, getting out of bad as quickly and quietly as he could and hurrying out of the bedroom. “Shit shit shit!”

Isaac got a hand cloth from the kitchen and wet it with cold water. He hurried back into the bedroom and carefully peeled the blanket away from Oliver. Then he gently but hastily shook Oliver’s shoulder. “Olive, baby, c’mon—baby, wake up. Wake up.”

Oliver groaned, but his eyes opened into thin, blinking slits.

“Hey, baby,” Isaac whispered.

Oliver wined and curled up onto his side in response. “My head hurts,” he mumbled in a weak voice.

Isaac sat on the edge of the bed again. “I know, baby. I know.” He took the hand towel and draped it on Oliver’s forehead. Oliver let out a pained whine in response to the sharp coldness.

“It’s okay, Olive,” Isaac whispered. “You’re okay. I know it feels uncomfortable, but the cold will help.”

Though Isaac didn’t think it was possible, Oliver started to shiver even more, despite the fact that it felt as if his skin had been lit on fire.

Isaac had no idea what else to do but wipe the cold cloth along Oliver’s face and neck. Isaac had to re-cool the towel a few times.

It was too late at night to call Keiko, which was the usual go-to option he and all their friends had when one of them was sick or hurt.

After re-cooling the towel for the fifth time, it was morning. Sunlight was just barely starting to peek through his blackout curtains, and Isaac quickly shut off his phone because he knew his alarm would go off any minute and he didn’t want to bother Oliver with his loud alarm that plays “Party in the USA” when it went off.

Oliver’s hair was damp and plastered to his sweat-slick forehead. The cloth didn’t seem to be doing anything, and Isaac only had one other idea of what to do.

“Baby,” he whispered, gently shaking Oliver awake again. “Baby, you need to get up. I need to get you to the bathroom—your skin is way too hot.”

Oliver groaned and tried to bury his face in his pillow, but Isaac was pulling him up into a seated position.

The world felt like it was tilting, and Oliver couldn’t even support his own head up. He was vaguely aware that he was moving, but he wasn’t walking, was he?

No, he definitely wasn’t. Someone was carrying him.

Suddenly, a light came on and Oliver winced, even though his eyes were closed.

Before he knew it, he was set down on a very cold tile floor. He opened his eyes and looked up at the person still supporting him even though he was sitting. “Isaac?” he mumbled. “What’s happening? It’s cold—”

“I know,” Isaac said, crouching down and peeling off Oliver’s sweaty clothes. Being naked only made him shiver uncomfortably. “But your fever is really high, and I need to cool you down.”

Before Oliver could completely register the words, he heard the squeak of the shower handle, and he couldn’t help but cry out in pain when the cold water hit him.

His teeth chattered and he shook horribly from the icy temp. Isaac continued to whisper soothing words while he touched Oliver’s cheeks and neck with cold, wet hands. The cold felt painful to Oliver. He even started to cry. Horrible, heart-breaking cries.

“It’s okay,” Isaac whispered. “I know it feels horrible, but it’ll be over soon. Just a little longer, baby.”

Oliver’s small sniffs turned into full on sobs and Isaac pulled Oliver into a hug, despite the cold water that started to pelt him and his clothes as well.

When Isaac turned the water off, they were both drenched, but Oliver was more soaked and shaky than Isaac.

Isaac grabbed a towel and wrapped Oliver in it. He dried off Oliver’s face and hair. The long, black strands stood at different, odd angles when he pulled the towel away.

Oliver was still crying softly. He was still sitting on the floor of the shower, so Isaac scooped him up and sat him on the toilet seat to finish drying him off as much as he could.

“I’ll get you some dry clothes,” Isaac said, crouching so he was at eye level with his boyfriend. “I’ll be right back.”

Oliver didn’t want Isaac to leave him alone, but he didn’t say anything as his sweet boyfriend left the bathroom.

It was only minutes before Isaac came back with fresh clothes in his hands. He helped Oliver out of the wet clothes, cooing as Oliver started trembling like a kicked wet puppy. The poor boy was still too out of it to even blush at the fact that his boyfriend was seeing him naked for the first time ever.

Once Oliver was in a clean t-shirt and shorts, Isaac once again lifted him. Oliver shut his eyes, trying to hide his face in the blonde’s chest as he was brought out to the living room. Isaac set Oliver on the couch, smoothing wet hair away from his face. “I’ll be right back,” he promised. “I just have to change the sheets real quick.” He left, and Oliver closed his eyes. He still felt awful, and his head wouldn’t stop pounding.

Isaac came back after several minutes, accidentally startling Oliver just as he was starting to doze off. Isaac, instead of picking Oliver up again, sat beside him on the couch, petting his hair with a concerned look. While gone, he’d changed out of his wet clothes too, and was wearing a different pair of pajamas, this one with pineapples printed all over it.

“Hey,” the blonde said softly. “Want some pomegranate tea? I’ll put extra honey in it, just like you like it.”

Oliver shook his head, eyes lowering to the floor. He leaned into the hand petting his hair, prompting Isaac to start gently massaging and scratching his scalp.

”What about soup instead? Or some fruits? You threw up quite a lot last night. You should eat something if you can hold it down.”

Again, Oliver shook he’s head. 

Isaac frowned leaning forward, and pressing a lingering, loving kiss to Oliver’s forehead. He was also checking how warm Oliver was, and though he didn’t feel as bad as he did before, it wasn’t much better. He pulled back and put his palm over Oliver’s forehead instead. “You’re still really warm. Maybe at least chew on some ice for a bit? It could—”

”Stop,” Oliver sighed, leaning to rest his forehead on Isaac���s shoulder, pressing his cheek against Isaac’s chest. Isaac realized that he was still shivering horribly.

Isaac let out a sigh, reaching for a blanket draped over the arm of the couch and forcing Oliver to sit up for a second so he could wrap it around him. Isaac pulled his cocooned boyfriend back against him, hugging Oliver tightly.

For about thirty minutes, Isaac stayed like that, hugging his feverish and sleeping boyfriend. 

Finally, when Oliver stirred awake, he pulled the blanket off of his head and looked up at Isaac. “Hey” he said in a sleepy voice.

”Hey,” Isaac replied softly, smiling a bit with his brows still slightly pinched. “How’re you feeling? A little bit better?”

Oliver nodded a bit, blinking heavily. “What time is it?”

Isaac pulled his phone out of his pajama pocket and read the time. “7:59,” he said.

Abruptly, Oliver’s eyes widened, and he seemed to fully wake up. Even though the feverish glaze never left his eyes and he was painfully pale. “Crap. I have to go,” he said anxiously. “I have, like, three assignments due today, and my first class is in thirty minutes. . .” Oliver tried to free himself from the cocoon, but between his exhaustion, his fever, and Isaac not letting go of him, he was forced to stay put.

“Whoa, chill,” Isaac said gently. “You’re not going to class today. You’re way too sick.”

Oliver looked at Isaac with wide, anxious eyes. “But—”

“Olive, you work too hard as it is. Don’t push yourself like this; especially not through such a nasty bug.”

Oliver felt his cheeks starting to heat, and he pouted. “My workload isn’t too bad. I just need to—”

“Baby, you’re taking eleven courses. And you’re on the college’s newspaper. I’ve told you before that you need to lighten your load; you work way too much, and you stress yourself out. I know you’ve always wanted to be one of the greatest journalists of all time, but you need to let yourself relax before you drive yourself crazy. And you need to relax now so you can get over this bug.”

Oliver didn’t deny anything Isaac said, because he knew it was all true. But he had to work hard. He wanted to be a writer at The New York Times. He wanted to become famous for his articles. He had to work harder and harder. He had too much to do and not enough time.

“One day, Olive,” Isaac said, running his fingers through his boyfriend’s longish black hair. “Just let yourself relax for oneday, please. After that, we can stress about your insane workload together. We can study together all night, every night, and not get any sleep while we work like our lives depend on it. Okay?”

For a moment, Oliver was silent. Then he smiled and laughed. Something about Isaac’s words just seemed so funny to his fever-cooked brain. And then Isaac started to chuckle, too.

When they both finished laughing, Isaac leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Oliver’s lips. “I love you,” he said.

Oliver pulled back a bit. “Don’t kiss me on the mouth; you’ll get sick!”

Isaac grinned, rolling his eyes and using the hand still tangled in Oliver’s hair to pull him forward for another kiss. “Like I care.”

[candyheartedchy]

It must be nice not having to bottle everything up.

[angelmush]

went to the state fair yesterday and tried so so much good food !!! my favorite things were the pickle lemonade (literally my favorite drink ever since i first tried it a couple weeks ago) and the fried pickles and the roasted corn. feeling like a true midwesterner after that :-)

[hana-bobo-finch]

erm…..posting about an OC via a rushed shitpost was not on my 2025 bingo card!! 😂😂😂😂😂😂get it??? 😂😂😂because his name is bingo??(GETS SHOT)

these are all things he has done or has attempted to do so consider this the full intro post for that freak for now. he’s still too undercooked to fully introduce but damn I love him

[judamars]

So I’m probably not that smart but I did take both psychology classes and sociology classes in college and they were a pretty big part of my time there.

I think in this particular situation, Gihun was the victim of what is called Operant Conditioning, which is the type of conditioning where a voluntary behavior is associated with a consequence.

By the time Gihun had reached Ilnam on his deathbed to confront him, he had already been conditioned by the games to believe that his impulsive desire to help others in need is something that will always be met with consequence. Ilnam kinda feeds into this subconscious thinking as well. You kinda see in both seasons how he still has feelings of guilt and shame, and even traumatic responses, from witnessing the death of others. (Flashback to the work strike (s1), dalgona dream (s2)). Because of his own personality, he is aware that he can make a difference by helping others when he sees they need help. That doesn’t change. But his apprehension when something goes gravely wrong as a result of such gets worse as the show progresses.

My theory is that the reason Ilnam and the Frontman actively use operant conditioning on him specifically is not because they don’t want him to stop helping people, they want him to stop helping THEIR people. The ones who join the games. The frontman has VIPs to entertain in a messed up capitalist system, and he knows that Gihun will stop at nothing to find him and attempt to put an end to it.

I also want to mention how Gihun had had three years since he left the games the first time to find them. But because he didn’t take that time to thoroughly process his trauma and to instead obsess over the source of it, he then became subject to the brunt of what PTSD/CPTSD can do to people, especially men. Specifically, i noticed symptoms such as intrusive thoughts, anxiety, feelings of guilt and shame, and hyper vigilance. But im sure there’s more.

Now just as a PTSD survivor and someone who knows other people who suffer from the same thing, a common thing that happens with the disorder (if it’s not already known) is increased empathy.

PTSD survivors are more likely to show ten times the amount of empathy. That is both proven in a few studies provided by google, and is also kinda common sense. Studies were mostly done on adults with childhood trauma, however I still think it could apply to both Gihun’s games experience and his past. And sure, a PTSD survivor may also experience impaired empathy after trauma, but Gihun is definitely portrayed as showing increased empathy. Helping people win the red light green light game by yelling out tips, helping that eliminated player across the finish line, those are all definite signs of increased empathy. As for seeing his best friend die, it does leave the question of whether that will either diminish this level of empathy or increase it. I do hope season 3 sheds some light on that, as the initial reaction cannot really tell you either way what his emotions will compel him to do in response.

One more thing I will mention about Gihun’s trauma, because I do think it’s interesting how he didn’t adhere to his own morals after the first set of games were over. I think he definitely saw the opportunity of confronting Ilnam and playing Russian roulette with the recruiter as ways to relive his trauma and somehow find a way to cope in those moments, specifically with the adrenaline rush of potentially putting a bullet in his head during roulette.

I could go WAAAAYYYYY more in depth about this but I feel like I’ve made this way too long already. I just definitely wanted to share this because I felt I could contribute.

All of my blabbing boils down to this, Gihun is a survivor of a deadly, capitalistic system that has put him through such intense trauma, that hasn’t really made him a different person per se but has just made his emotions and his impulses much more intense.

Also, here are some sources I reviewed, just to provide more information

someone smarter than me who knows more abt psychology needs to write abt gi-hun and the learned helplessness that the games instilled in him. i find the last episode of s1 so interesting bc i KNOW that pre-games gi-hun would've gone down to the street and helped out that homeless guy himself. bc pre-games gi-hun, despite his many flaws, was proactive and impulsive and deeply caring towards others. but post-games gi-hun just stays put and waits for someone else to do help the guy. bc the games taught him that even when he tries to help people, he won't succeed. and that trying to help people never works. i don't think it's something he would consciously believe but it got ingrained in him on a subconscious level.

i think by s2 he's started to find his will and strength to help others again, as evidenced by him trying so hard to end the games and by him helping that one eliminated player in red light green light. but i'm worried that him standing up and starting a rebellion only to watch his best friend die is gonna put him right back in that mindset of believing that he can't (and shouldn't) do anything or help anyone.

i also think it's so interesting how even though he has such a distaste for the games, he still mostly follows the rules. even the rebellion itself could be seen as part of the game. but i'm mostly thinking about how he could have saved that homeless man, or how he could have refused to play russian roulette with the recruiter, but he didn't. he thinks he proved il-nam wrong, but in a way he just proved him right by standing so high above that man on the verge of death, literally betting on whether he'd live or not while doing nothing to help him. he was a vip in that moment and he didn't even realise it